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moonlightndaydreams · 2 months

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Little Deaths | a ghostly ot8 story

MDNI 🔞 this is an adult story!!!

La petite mort. ‘the little death' is an expression that refers to a brief loss or weakening of consciousness, and in modern usage refers specifically to a post-orgasm sensation as likened to death.

fem!reader x ghost!Skz

Your driver abandons you at a creepy mansion that turns out to be haunted by 8 cursed, horny ghosts. Their mission is your pleasure.

Word count: 6.8k

Content Warning below

CW: ot8 are ghosts, drugging/intoxication of reader, seduction?coercion?, sexual acts with ghosts, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m & f), vaginal and anal penetration, blow jobs, double pen in 2 holes, double pen one hole, restraints, rough sex, spitting, it's basically a gangbang, sub reader, there is a part where a cock alternates between readers vagina and anus - this is not recommended irl, choking, name calling, pet names. The sexual acts in this story are not meant to reflect how things work irl.

a/n: this story isn't a love story, like I often write here on this blog. It's basically self indulgent ot8 porn. It's my first oneshot that features all 8 members fully, and it was actually so hard to write. I considered posting this story on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark where I write my unhinged shit, but it took so much energy and thought, that I wanted to keep it over here with my other oneshots of similar length.

I hope you enjoy this oneshot. If you do, please let me know your favourite part, and consider a reblog. x. Sorsha.

“Ma’m, I think we need to stop the car, this weather is just making it too hard to see.” your driver called over his shoulder. The rain outside was falling harder than ever, and with it being the dead of night, and on a windy deserted road, you knew he was right. It wasn’t safe.

“But where on earth do we stop?” You replied, trying to see out of the window.

“I think I’ve taken a wrong turn.” He said in a shaky voice. “But… I think I’ve found somewhere we can pull over.”

You leaned around to look between the two front seats of the car, and could just make out the shape of a mansion ahead of you. Your driver pulled the car to a stop in front of the dwelling. “Should we go knock on the door?” You wondered, but your driver was getting out of the car and pulled out your suitcase.

“I think so. I could barely see the road.” He insisted.

You let out a big sigh and climbed out of the car. From what you could tell, the mansion was enormous, and very old.

Stepping up to the front door you saw there was no doorbell. Just a big brass knocker. “You know,” you turn to your driver who plonked down your suitcase beside your feet. “This feels a lot like that Backstreet Boys music video. The one with a haunted mansion.” You gripped the knocker in your hand and knocked three times and waited. “You know, Backstreets Bac-“ You turned to your driver but he was running back to the car, jumping back in and driving away. The fucker!

“Hey!” You yelled after him, but he was gone.

The big front door creaked open, capturing your attention. A young man with fluffy long blonde hair peeked his head around the door.

“Oh my goodness!” You wailed. “I…it was raining…and…well…my driver…he’s just left me here.”

The young man looked at you curiously. “Come in out of the cold.” He smiled warmly. He immediately put you at ease.

“My name’s Felix.” He said picking up your suitcase.

“Y/n.” You replied following him into the mansion. It was quite dark, but you could make out that you were in a large entry hall, with a grand staircase in the centre.

“You will need to stay the night.” he stated. “I’ll take you to your room.”

“Stay the night?” You turned to him. “But I just need to make a phone call, have someone come collect me.”

Felix shook his head. We haven’t any mobile reception, and the landline is down. Due to the storm.”

You frowned.

“Plus,” he began as he started up the stairs. “No one should be driving in this weather.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. He was right. You followed Felix up the winding staircase and along a dimly lit hall. The place was creepy. It felt deserted and cold. Such a contrast from the man leading you to your room. Felix seemed so warm, like sunshine. Why would someone like him live here?

“Here we are.” He opened a door at the end of the hall. “You will be staying here. I’ll bring you up some supper and a cup of hot…chocolate. Yes, hot chocolate.” he rambled. “Please-” he gestured for you to enter the room and placed your suitcase on the floor beside you.

“Feli-?” you turned to the blond man, but he was gone. Weird. “Felix?” you called and popped your head back out into the hallway. But he had completely disappeared. Vanished into thin air.

Despite the cold emptiness of the mansion, your room was stunning. Even if it did look like it came out of a haunted house movie. It had Victorian gothic themed decor, with a huge bed that had four thick posts, and the bedhead itself was a feature piece. It came almost up to the high ceiling. Dim lamps around the walls illuminated the room. The entire space was grand and of another time.

“I suppose I could spend the night here.” you patted the bed. The bedding seemed freshly cleaned, and you noticed there was no dust on anything. It was like whoever lived here was expecting a guest. Was Felix the only one here? You wondered as you opened your suitcase and pulled out your silk nightie.

Your sleepwear seemed far too vulnerable and sexy for such a room and as you climbed into the giant bed, you had thoughts of some beast coming and ruining you in your sleep. Maybe you’d need to stay awake just to be safe?

Knock knock.

You pulled your knees to your chest, and your heart began to pound. Someone’s come to rape you and murder you. Your mind had really spiraled over the past ten minutes.

“Y/n? It’s Felix. I’ve brought you some food and a a-drink.”

You scampered over to the door. “Fel-” you started. But again no one was there. How was he so quick?

On the floor at your feet was a tray with a slice of cake and a big mug of hot chocolate. You took the tray back to your bed. You were hungrier than you thought, practically inhaling the cake within a minute.

You turned your attention to the hot drink, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It was delicious. Rich, creamy, with a hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. You took another sip, allowing the warmth to wash over you. By the time you had drunk the last of it, you were feeling floaty and fuzzy, almost like you were drunk.

All thoughts about your safety left you as you snuggled down and fell asleep.

Your core ached as you felt your body buzz and swirl. Sensations of cool hands all over your body, caressing your legs, and your breasts, making you moan. More. You needed more. Whatever this was, you had to have more or you’d die. Your body felt hot, like it was on fire, and you needed the relief of the coolness that was caressing you.

The sensation moved up your inner thigh, while elsewhere on your body it wrapped around your neck. More across your stomach and breasts. It reached the top of your inner thigh and, ‘oh god yes, touch me there’, slipped inside of you. You felt like you were writhing on the bed, back arching off the mattress. But then it seemed you couldn’t move at all. It was like you were being held down. You tried to cry out, the pleasure becoming unbearable, but your mouth was filled with the same coldness that was inside your pussy. Again, your body cried ‘More’. You needed more. The cool sensation then filled you deeper and deeper and stretched you open, fuller, wider than ever before. Your throat felt full too, and you were certain you were going to choke. Your dreamy vision blurred further until you were seeing white, and the tension in your body reached breaking point. A surge of cold energy filled you and your core burst with a relief like you’d never experienced in your entire life. Your walls squeezed and pulsed around the coldness inside of you.

Your eyes flung open. Your chest was heaving. Your body was hot. Your cunt still fluttering. Fuck. That was some dream. You ran your hands over your body, down between your legs. Your panties! They were gone. You sat up abruptly, your eyes darting around to locate your missing underwear. There they were, at the far corner of the bed. Torn. What the actual fuck?

“You did that to yourself, you know.” a voice said from the corner of the room.

“Huh?” your eyes shot to a man sitting in the shadows in the corner.

“We didn’t touch you.” he added.

You were confused. “We?” you arched an eyebrow, trying to calm your racing heart.

The man disappeared, startling you, then reappeared sitting on the edge of the mattress.

You pulled your knees into your chest. “How the fuck did you do that? Who are you? What are you? How’d you just do that?” you cried shrilly.

The man smiled, his dimpled cheeks and kind eyes making him appear non-threatening. But that didn’t mean he wasn't a psycho killer. A magic psycho killer.

“Here, have another hot chocolate.” he passed you a mug.

The hot chocolate. You scowled at the man. “You drugged me!” you hissed.

The man shrugged. “It’s an ancient remedy. We needed to know if you were compatible with us.”

“Compatible? Compatible for what? What do you mean, ‘us’? You and Felix? What does this drink do?”

“Shh..babygirl. It’s okay.” he hushed you. “The drink merely relaxes you and unlocks what you crave most. I promise it wears off within twelve hours. The drink you had earlier was only one eighth the strength of this one here.” he pointed to the drink in your hands.

You brought the drink to your nose and inhaled. It smelled irresistible, and you resisted the strong compulsion to drink it down. “But why do you want me to drink more? Couldn’t you tell if I was compatible or not from…”

“You are compatible. It was clear the moment you called for us.” He said simply.

Your eyes widened. “Called for you? But I don’t even know you.” you whispered.

“The coldness you felt.” he leaned closer. “On your body. Inside your body. That was us. You could feel us even though we hadn’t touched you.”

You held your breath.

“We could feel you too. We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness. It wrapped around us.” he whispered.

You whimpered. He, they, could feel you? You bit your lip. “So why drink more?” you arched an eyebrow. “If you know I’m compatible with…whatever this is.”

“Because what I’m about to tell you might be,” he sucked in a breath. “Overwhelming.”

You locked eyes with this stranger and carefully took a big gulp of the hot chocolate. You immediately felt a sense of warmth flow through your body and pooling in your core.

“You see, y/n, we’re ghosts.”

You just stared at him. “What?” you laughed. “Just ‘cos you did some magic disappear-reappear thing before, I don’t believe in-”

The man in front of you turned translucent. Fuck. Your mouth fell open. You could still see him, but his colours were muted, and he wasn’t….solid.

“You’re a fucking ghost?” you choked. This wasn’t happening. Surely the drink has some kind of hallucinogen?

“Y/n, allow me to introduce you to my brothers.” he gestured for you to look around the room. Gradually, seven young, translucent, men emerged from the shadows.

“Holy shit!” you whispered and swallowed hard.

“My name is Chan.” the dimpled mad said. “And here we have Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung.” he pointed to three of the men who waved at you. ‘And over there we have Suengmin, Jeongin, Minho, and you’ve already met Felix.”

“Sorry I drugged you.” Felix blushed and lowered his gaze.

“May we come sit on the bed?” the one named Hyunjin asked. “We won’t touch you unless you ask.” he added.

Why did that something to your insides?

You nodded and the ghost men gathered around and hopped on the bed. That’s when you noticed they were all quite young and very handsome. And they were all wearing the same thing. A gold and black silk bathrobe.

The words of Chan resounded in your head. “You called to us”, “We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness.”

You pulled the blanket up higher and stared at your drink, considering whether or not to drink more if it was going to help you relax.

“W-what did you do when I called to you?” you asked in a small voice.

“We came straight away.” Another man said. Seungmin, you think.

“We watched you, kitten.” Minho smirked.

“You were so receptive.” Changbin added.

“Your body begged us to fill you, squeeze you. Fuck you.” Hyunjin said silkily.

“But you didn’t… touch me, right?”

“No, babygirl. Like I said, your body showed us what you craved most. We didn’t touch you. I promise. But we could feel you.”

“But why do I crave you?” you were confused as to how this could even be happening.

“We think it’s part of the curse.” The chubby cheeked boy, Jisung, said. “Every so often a woman will stumble upon our mansion. We give them a drink,” he nodded to the cup in your hand, “to see if they’re compatible. Sometimes they just sleep soundly.”

“Those ones aren’t compatible.” Seungmin chimes in.

“And some, like you, are receptive.” Jisung continued.

“Compatible.” Added Minho.

You looked around the room. So you craved these… ghosts? Sexually? Was this a trick? You thought about your dream and how incredible it felt to be consumed by whatever it was that was touching you. Would it feel like that?

“What happens when you find a compatible woman?” You were almost afraid to ask.

“We have to pleasure her.” Chan said flatly.

Your eyes flicked to his.

“And what happens if you don’t?”

“We get tortured.”

Your eyes widen. “Tortured? Why? By who?”

“I think we need to tell her the whole story.” Said Jeongin.

Chan rubbed his chin. “Hmm, you’re right.” He took a moment before he spoke.

“Y/n. When we were alive we were… a harem. Or reverse harem, I suppose. We had our Mistress whom we served… sexually. She wasn’t right, in the head. She went mad. She didn’t want us to age, to get older. So she hired a witch who was meant to concoct a spell that would keep us young for eternity. The spell was not only to keep us youthful either, but also bind us,” he looked around at the other men. “To be sex slaves forever.”

“But it went wrong.” Exclaimed Jisung. “It killed us. Now we’re young, dead, sex slaves forever.” He looked down at the bedspread.

The mood in the room suddenly dropped and you could tell all the men were in a moment of reflection.

“So,” you started slowly. “When a woman comes along who subconsciously requires your… services… then you are bound to fulfill her needs?”

They all nodded.

“Our bodies naturally respond. It’s intoxicating.” Hyunjin said softly. “All of us are aching for you.” His hand reached out and touched your arm. Cold. Cold just like the sensation in your dream.

“What if I say no? What happens?”

“We won’t touch you.” Chan states.

“But we’d be in pain until the next compatible woman comes along.” Said Felix.

“The urge and desire won’t dissipate until we have found another compatible woman.” added Seungmin.

You considered everything they just told you. It was wild. It was far-fetched, and absolutely unbelievable. But here you were. On a bed with a room full of ghosts. Ghosts that were horny for you. You should say no. But you couldn’t. It seemed you were horny for them too.

They were alluring. Tempting. Could they make you feel the way you did in your dream? They weren’t even touching you then, supposedly, and you wondered what it’d feel like to have them really do those things to you, and more.

You took the cup to your mouth. “What happens if I drink this stronger version?” You looked at Felix.

“It will relax you. But more importantly it shows us what your body truly needs to be sated, and who want to do it to you.” Said Changbin.

“There’s no hiding if you drink that. You won’t be able to hold back.” Minho smirked.

“And everything will feel more intense.” Added Jeongin.

“Babygirl.” Chan gripped your arm. “You need to give us your permission. Will you let us pleasure you… fuck you until you can’t take any more?”

You bit your lip. “Yes.” you whispered, and gulped the entire drink down.

“That’s it, baby.” Clapped Jisung.

“I knew from how hard she came earlier that she’d be up for this.” Seungmin added.

“She’s just drank the whole thing. Chan, that was full strength.” Felix was horrified.

“Means she’ll be pliable, we can do anything.” Seungmin said slyly.

“Well, anything she wants.” Corrected Changbin..

“She’ll want us to do absolutely everything. I can tell. This one’s a fucking freak.” Said Minho.

You immediately became lightheaded. And hot. So fucking hot. You threw the blanket off and started clawing at your skimpy nightie. “Hot!” you cried. “So hot.”

Ice cold hands came to your body, ripping the garment from you, leaving you naked, on fire, your skin burning. “Please!” you cried, searching for the cool relief of those hands.

A hand wrapped around your leg, dragging you into the middle of the mattress. More hands started to explore your body. Firm, freezing, so relieving against your scorching skin.

You opened your eyes to find that all eight ghosts were surrounding you on the bed. But they weren’t translucent anymore. They appeared as real as living men. “Touch me.” you sobbed as your eyes darted around to each of them.

“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Whispered Jisung.

You didn’t know whose hands were who’s, but there were so many on your body. So cooling to the skin. A hand cupped a breast, while another pinched your other nipple. Your legs were spread wide and a frozen cold tongue pressed against your pussy.

“Fuck!” you cried out and looked down to find Jisung sucking on your clit. “Fuck! Feels so good.” you panted.

“How does she taste, brother?” someone asked.

“Like pussy.” he groaned. “I fucking missed this taste.”

While your eyes had rolled back into your head from the intensity of what was happening, you felt your arms being pulled above your head, and soft velvet ropes were tied around your wrists. You looked up behind you to see Minho tying the other ends of the ropes to the headposts. “Kitten likes to be tied up.” he winked at you.

Meanwhile, Jisung had peeled himself away from between your legs and Hyunjin was kneeling between them, gazing at your pussy. Just the way he was looking at you and licking his lips made your cunt gush. He noticed and swiped his finger over your dripping arousal, then took his finger to his lips. He proceeded to wink at you, slip off his robe. With the most deranged look you’d ever seen on a man, he lifted your hips to line your entrance up with his cock, and slammed you onto him. His cock felt like a hard block of ice. Thick, hard, rigid. But so relieving inside your searing heat.

He was so strong, he wasn’t even thrusting. He was simply making you fuck him. The binds on your arms were pulled taut every time you were fully impaled on him.

“So pliable.” Jeongin said as he leaned down to suck one of your nipples.

“Like a fucking ragdoll.’ Seungmin mused. “Look how her eyes roll back every time he fucks into her.”

It was so hard to focus on where everyone was and what they were doing. All you knew is that you needed them to touch you. You needed Hyunjin to keep doing whatever he was doing. He felt so long, so deep, and after a while the sharp coldness eased off and his cock started to feel more warm. More alive. You weren’t sure whether your body was warming him up, or if he was cooling you down.

Your core tightened, your orgasm was approaching fast. As if on cue, a finger landed on your clit, and rubbed hard, rough circles on it.

“Please…please…I’m gonna…I…I…so close..” you cried and babbled.

Hyunjin thrust you onto you harder, digging his fingers into your flesh, and the fingers on your clit became more forceful.

“It’s okay, Hyunin’s gonna make you cum.” Chan cooed.

A sudden powerful surge of cold energy exploded inside your cunt, causing your walls to automatically contract around it. “Holy fucking shit!” you panted. “I’m…fuck!!!” your walls clenched tighter than they ever had before, and you were coming so hard you thought your body had split apart. It felt as though your entire pelvic region was pulsing around Hyunjin’s cock. It lasted so long, maybe an entire minute, and by the time you came down, you were sobbing. Hyunjin leaned over and took you in a deep kiss before slipping out.

“No! No!” you cried out. You were too empty now. Your body relaxed into the bed when a few sets of lips soothed you through kisses to your body. “More.” you whispered softly.

“Shh. You’re gonna be plenty filled tonight, baby.” Jisung whispered in your ear, before he hooked his hands under your arms and dragged you so your head hung off the edge of the mattress. He opened his robe to reveal his delicious cock, and you immediately opened your mouth for him. He smirked as he pushed his cock into your warm, wet mouth. He too was was ice cold, but you noticed he began to warm up quickly.

“Baby likes to choke on big cocks, huh?” he snarled. “I never expected such a perfect little lady to turn up on our doorstep tonight.” he pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat. You couldn’t breathe. But you didn’t care. Right now being filled with cock was more important to your survival than air.

“Fuck. You can see it pressing into her throat.” Jeongin hissed. He was setting himself up to fuck you now.

“If you put your hand on her neck, you can feel it.” Jisung said excitedly.

Jeongin reached up and pressed his hand to your neck, squeezing your throat and making Jisung feel so much bigger. He pulled out to let you catch your breath, and then he was stretching your throat out again.

Jeongin twisted your lower half so you were on your side from your waist down. He straddled your bottom leg, pinning it into position, whilst lifting your upper leg to rest on his shoulder. He pressed his hips, pushing his cock into you, and immediately started fucking you fast. He was hitting you so deep that you were certain he was pushing your cervix deeper and deeper into your body, and the way Jisung seemed to be pushing deeper and deeper into your throat, you thought they would eventually meet up in the middle.

Your hands were guided to wrap around two rock hard, ice cold cocks. You had no clue who they belonged to. You didn’t care. All these ghost men were fuckable. You wanted to touch and feel every single one of them.

“Grrr…I’m fucking coming.” cried Jeongin.

“Let’s cum in her at the same time.” Said Jisung.

Then you felt it. The same as with Hyunjin. The cold surge of energy, filling you up from both ends. Your back arched off the bed as you came again. Your hands squeezed around the cocks you were holding. Cries and hisses rang out around the room at the sight before them.

“Good girl. So fucking good.” Purred Jisung as he eased his cock from your mouth.

“Noooo!” You cried. He leaned down and kissed you. Baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good later. I already know what you’re gonna want me to do.” He winked.

Jeongin was gone too. The dicks in your hands also gone, and you whimpered at so much loss. You didn’t have time to cry for too long when you were suddenly dragged by your feet further onto the bed and flung into your stomach. “You’re such a filthy little slut, pup.” Seungmin laid against you, whispering nasty words in your ear. He’d grasped your arms, holding them both behind your back with one hand. Your hair was plastered on your cheek, and he spat on it before pushing your face against the mattress below.

“Please-” you choked.

“Oh, my slutty little pup. I know exactly what you want. But I wanna hear you say it for the whole class to hear.”

How does he know? You wondered to yourself in your delirious state. Seungmin pressed the length of his hardness against your ass.

“Please…fill my ass.” You sobbed. A collective hum spread around the room at your admission.

“That’s right.” Seungmin pressed his tip against your rim. You still weren’t used to how cold their cocks were to begin with. “Such a slut wanting me to put it in without loosening you up first.” He spat on the side of your face again, his saliva sticking in your hair. You needed him to hurry. You needed him to fill you. You were so fucking empty.

Seungmin’s cock breached your rim as he pressed his body further on top of you. The stretch felt overwhelmingly satisfying, while the coolness of his cock soothed the sting. The feeling of being trapped beneath him, arms held tight behind you, the feeling of helplessness intensified your need for him to penetrate you.

Finally, his hips met the curve of your ass cheeks. “Such a tight little hole. He grunted as he started to grind against you. “Not sure how tight it’ll be by morning.” He whispered low in your ear. He started with a slow, steady pace, allowing your body to warm his cock. “Harder…harder.” You mumbled into the mattress.

Seungmin growled and fucked into you, pressing your face further into the mattress. It felt like he was fucking you forever, yet not long enough. You were mumbling and dribbling all over the bed. Then, the familiar feeling of what seemed to be their orgasms, filled you once again, making you come hard. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you were already desperate to have someone fill it again.

It was as though Minho read your mind, and as soon as Seungmin dislodged himself from your ass, he was dragging you to the otherside of the bed. He stood on the floor and pressed your legs up into a mating press position and drank you in with hungry eyes. “I love watching my cock sink into a pussy.” He said. “Watch with me.”

You looked down just in time to see his cock push inside of you. “Kittie’s hungry.” He smirked as you sucked in his entire cock, and glanced up at you. “Does it feel good?” He asked.

You nodded fervently. “Yes! So good.” You squeaked. He cocked an eyebrow. “What about your ass?” He pulled out of your cunt and pushed fully into into your ass.

“Fuck! So deep. So fucking deep.” You cried. This position allowed Minho to reach the deepest part of you. He fit your cunt so well, but, oh fuck, he felt incredible in your ass too. You wanted him to fuck both hol-

“You really are filthy.” Minho said disbelief. He pulled out of your ass and plunged back into your pussy.

You knew, you really knew, that this wasn’t a good idea, but you wanted him to do it so fucking bad. And he knew! He knew what you wanted. They all seemed to know. You didn’t have to say a word and they knew all the filthy things you craved.

You glanced around you to see some of the others had gathered around to watch Minho fuck your pussy, then your ass, then back to your pussy, while he held you still on the bed.

“Look how her holes stay open waiting for him to put it back in again.” Felix said mesmerised.

Despite your delirium, you had an idea. You wanted someone to finger fuck you when Minho was in your ass. He pulled out of your cunt once more and as he pushed back into your now gaping asshole, Changbin slipped two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s it, Bunny. Binnie’s fingers stretch you good don’t they?” He purred.

Your hands flailed around looking for cocks to jerk off, relieved to find Felix and Jeongin in your hands. “My mouth! Need someone in my mouth.” You whimpered.

“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Cooed Jisung again. “Chan, you should fill her mouth. She’s begging you.”

“Yeah Channie, you haven’t felt her. She’s fucking incredible.” Seungmin encouraged.

Yes. You wanted Chan in your mouth. “Please.” You were crying because you wanted it so bad. Chan straddled your chest and pressed the tip of his cock against your lip. “Open wide, babygirl. Daddy needs to make you choke.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pushed his cock into your mouth. “That’s it. Suck on it.” He pushed deeper.

Minho picked up his pace, slamming into your ass at an alarming pace, and Changbin was digging into your g-spot aggressively. You were feeling so used, but at the same time so special.

“Changbin’s got four fingers in you, baby. You should see your pretty little holes.” Jisung panted as he fucked into his own hand.

Chan gripped your hair and started to fuck your throat at the same rhythm as Minho was fucking your ass. You didn’t know why taking their cocks down your throat was so incredibly arousing, but it was. You couldn’t get enough. It was almost like you didn’t need to breathe when they were in your mouth, and you wondered if it was some weird ghost magic.

You were pinned down and held still as they forced another orgasm out of you. How much more could your body take? You hadn’t even fucked all of them yet. You started to feel drowsy and your eyes fluttered closed. Chan withdrew his cock from your mouth, and some saliva dribbled down your chin.

“Babygirl.” He stroked your cheek. “Are you okay? You need to wake up for us. You still need more to be sated.”

Minho and Changbin pulled out of you too and came up to check on you.

“We can’t keep doing this if you’re asleep, pretty lady.” Felix stroked your hair and gazed down at you.

You opened your eyes and grinned with a fucked out expression. “Why am I empty?” You whispered.

“Atta girl.” Chan slapped your face, pulling you out of your sleepy moment, and just like that you were ready for more.

“Come ride me, bunny.” Changbin coaxed you over by gripping his cock and pumping it a few times. You licked your lips and crawled towards him, and a few hard slaps landed on your ass as you did so.

Changbin had a thick cock. Maybe the thickest you’d ever seen. You threw a leg over him and reached down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both sighed in relief as you slid effortlessly onto his thickness and immediately began to roll your hips. “Fuck, yeah, bunny. Still so tight, even after we’ve fucked you open.”

You grinned down at him as you found a rhythm with him rolling his hips up into you in the most delicious way. “Kiss me.” he sighed, and pulled you down on top of him and captured you in a deep kiss. You melted against him, as he cupped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. You panted into Chanbgin’s mouth. “You want Felix at the same time?” he whispered. You nodded.

Like clockwork, you felt the mattress dip behind you. “It’s okay, love. Lixi’s gonna help keep you feeling full.” he positioned himself behind you and lined himself up with your ass.

Although your ass had been stretched by two cocks already, Felix was met with some resistance due to Changbin already filling you up so good. But Felix persevered, pressing and pushing until he was fully seated inside of you.

A few of the other men gasped at the sight of seeing you filled like this.

“Felix,” said Changbin. “You know what she wants us to do. Are you ready to give it to her?” Felix grabbed hold of your hips, pressing his fingers into you hard, and began to fuck you with hard, sharp thrusts. He snapped his hips quickly, forcing you to cry out in choked sobs. At the same time, Changbin gently rolled his hips up into you. The difference in technique and pace was driving you insane. The feeling of both your holes stretched like this was overwhelming. They were going to break you into pieces. You were sure of it. You were crying and sobbing, eventually collapsing onto Changbin and letting them fuck you dumb. Drool was dribbling out of your mouth onto Changbin’s shoulder, and you felt like you were losing your sense of consciousness.

“P-please…please…ruin me…fuck me…feels s’good…so deep… full.” You babbled.

“She’s so dumb from cock. Look at her. Eyes unfocused. Drooling.” Minho observed.

“Her cunt is gushing around Binnie too. You all know what she wants next, don’t you?” Jisung winked at Chan.

“C’mon fellas. Fuck her harder. She’ll fall asleep if you’re too gentle.” Minho snickered.

Both Changbin and Felix doubled down, both finding a matching rhythm, and slamming into your holes. Even though you knew what to expect from theirs orgasms, it still hit you hard, taking you over the edge with them. The three of you were a trembling mess by the time they pulled out of you.

“Pup, show us your pretty used holes.” Seungmin requested. You happily obliged by leaning your head into the bed, ass in the air, and spreading your cheeks with your shaky hands.

Whines, whimpers, sighs, and mumbled “fucks” filled the room as they all gazed hungrily at your sloppy, used holes. “Fuck, I wish I could ejaculate. I’d cum all over that ass.” sighed Hyunjin.

“I’d fucking cum in there and watch it ooze out.” added Minho.

“Babygirl.” Chan had laid himself on his back, leaning against the pillows. “My turn to feel your pussy. I’m out of patience.”

You sauntered over to him, and kissed him. “Turn around, babygirl. Show ‘em how you ride reverse.” You straddled him, reverse cowgirl, and swallowed up his cock whole. Chan’s cock was ice cold like the rest of the men, but he was much, much bigger. He stretched you out like you were made for him. “That’s it. There you go. There you go.” he cooed once you planted your feet into the mattress and used your legs as leverage to bounce yourself up and down his length.

All eyes were on your hole swallowing Chan’s cock, and then sliding up to reveal just how wet and slippery you were. Hyunjin was lying on his stomach watching everything curiously. A few of the others were pumping their still hard cocks. You even noticed a couple of the men were translucent again.

You eyes landed on the one man you hadn’t fucked yet. Jisung. He looked at your pussy desperately, like he was in pain. He needed you. He looked up, locking eyes with you, and in an instant, he crawled over to you. “Hey baby. You ready for me?” he grinned.

“I am.” you whimpered.

“Okay, lean back on me…that’s it.” instructed Chan. “Let’s push your legs up. Good girl. That’s it. Make room for Jisung.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you and rubbed his cock against your clit. “Please.” you plead. You watched as Jisung pushed against your entrance, beside Chan, and when the tip slipped in you cried out. “Fuck.” you squeaked. “It’s so…fuck…the stretch…it’s” your hands gripped onto Jisung’s arms to hold yourself in place as Jisung pushed further into your cunt.

Jisung’s cock was cold, where Chan’s had warmed up and the difference in temperature allowed you to feel the two distinct penises that were inside you.

“I’m gonna push all the way in now, baby.” Jisung pushed his hips hard, and with your pussy so wet, it gave way just enough for the rest to slip in.

“Fuck, it’s so tight.” Jisung’s eyes squeezed closed.

“Full…S’full.” You groaned.

“Stuffed full of cock.” Seungmin admired.

The other men had gathered around and watched in awe as they watched your pussy being fucked by two cocks at once. Chan continued to hold your legs up out of the way while he fucked you from below. Han leaned over you as he snapped his hips as vigorously as your cunt would allow.

‘’Open.” demanded jisung. You opened your mouth for him and he spat into it before crashing his mouth onto yours. Apparently ghosts don’t ejaculate, but oddly enough they have saliva.

“This what you wanted, babygirl?” Chan nibbled your neck. You answered with a whimper.

“You love being stretched like this. Filled so deep with cock?” Jisung said, panting. “You don’t have to say anything. We already know. We know how after this you want us to all take turns double penetrating you.”

You moaned in agreement.

“One in the pussy…one in the ass. Or two in your tight cunt like right now.” Jisung pressed his mouth against your ear. “Maybe even two in the ass?” he whispered. “Maybe we should get everyone to pair up ready?”

You yelped, and clenched tighter around the two men.

“She likes that idea.” Chan chuckled.

“Well it’s her idea, remember? We’re the sex slaves.” Jisung grunted as he pushed in as deep as possible.

“Good thing our erections last so long. Our pretty Babygirl is so needy. Lucky we're here to take care of her.”

Your body felt floppy, like they could bend you and stretch you however they wanted, and your body would accommodate. All of your attention was focused on the sensation in your core. You felt so full. Their cocks reaching deep inside you. What state would it be in when they’re finished? You didn’t care because after this you wanted them to do it all again.

Jisung changed his angle to concentrate on your g-spot, causing your body to start shaking. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. You were a helpless, sobbing mess, needing to come, but not wanting to yet.

Minho and Felix moved closer, one on either side of you, and took hold of your trembling legs, freeing up Chan’s hands.

Subconsciously, your hands found their cocks and you started to jerk them off.

“You gonna come with us, babygirl? I can feel you’re so close.” Chan encouraged as he wrapped a hand around your neck to choke you.

Jisung sat back on his knees and began to rub your clit as he and Chan continued to abuse your pussy with hard, relentless thrusts.

You threw your head back, wanting to cry out, but with Chan’s hand squeezing you, it turned into a gurgling sound. Hands groped at your tits, most likely Minho and Felix while they held your legs. You felt the tip of a cock on your cheek, and Chan turned your head so you could open up for Changbin.

You couldn’t hold on any longer.

“That’s it, babygirl… let go.” Chan whispered.

“Come for us.” Hyunjin said. Words of encouragement resonated around the room.

The tension inside you snapped, setting off your orgasm. Your cunt clamped down, causing Chan and Jisung to come too, moaning and cursing under their breaths. The force of both of their cold energies extended your orgasm, thrusting you into a new realm of pleasure. It had you pulsing, squeezing, shaking, and then squirting all over their cocks.

“Fuck, she squirted so much! Like a fucking faucet.” Someone growled.

Changbin came in your mouth, and with Chan still choking you, it heightened the feeling of your orgasm and you squirted a second time.

“Good fucking girl.” Purred Chan as he continued to roll his hips into you.

“She’s the most compatible we’ve ever seen.” Noted Jeongin.

“We’re gonna pull out now, baby.” Jisung stroked your cheek. You grasped his arm and shook your head.

“No! Need more!” You sobbed.

“I thought she was meant to be satisfied by now.” Said Hyunjin, confused.

“It’s like the more we give her, the more she needs.” Observed Felix.

“We have to keep going until she’s satisfied.” Confirmed Minho.

“What a fucking shame.” Sneered Seungmin as he approached the bed and pulled Jisung out of your cunt and lined himself up.

A/n: I have similarly unhinged oneshots and drabbles that you may enjoy on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark .

General Taglist is open for both blogs.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @chansbabyg @kangnina @vanillacupcakefrosting @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @newhope8 @jehhskz @weareapackofstrays @bethanysnow @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows

Again, my tag links have been messing up. 😫😫

#skz smut #skz x reader #skz ot8 #han jisung smut #skz oneshot #bang chan smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #lee know smut #chan x reader #han jisung x reader #changbin x reader #seungmin x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader

2K notes · View notes

palajae · 3 months

Text

my name. | nishimura riki

PAIRING ▸ nishimura riki! x reader

GENRE ▸ detective! au, fantasy! au, high school! au, s2ls, romance, fluff, angst, humor, SLOW BURN

WC ▸ 15.6k

SUMMARY ▸ you supposedly get transported to a different world, where you encounter niki. apparently, you already existed here. note: past tense. so now you’re stuck in an alternate universe and technically, you’re supposed to be dead.

AKA after facing the truth, you come to the realization that someone was definitely trying to kill you.

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of death!!!, a murder mystery/whodunit, profanity, mentions of suicide, depictions of murder, a few curse words, violence, blood, dead bodies, some gorey stuff, kissing, nothing too harsh, excuse any typos/misspellings...

wow... i can't believe it but it is finally out... it's been a long time coming lol. with losing several family members and hospital visits over the past year, i wasn't sure if this was ever going to get released. thank you all for your endless (fr) patience and support. happy reading ❤️

a faceless figure stretches out a hand towards you.

you squint but for some reason, you still can’t make them out. the longer you stare, the more you realize it was a person—a blurry vision of a faceless boy. considering the matching uniform to yours, he must’ve gone to your school …was he your classmate?

you frown. you’ve never seen anyone like him in class before. you stretch out your arm, fingertips barely grazing his-

the sound of the school bell ringing causes your eyelids to fly open. you groan, yawning and getting up from your seat by the window by default.

it wasn’t a nice nap—just one that left you feeling groggy, unsettled, and strangely incomplete.

you pack up your stuff quietly and leave the classroom alone, not bothering to look for your friends. as you walk down the stairs, you hear your classmates chattering about the weather.you glance outside.

it was a dreary, unwelcoming kind of rain—part of the reason why you fell asleep earlier in class—and you suddenly feel the urge to get home. as soon as possible.

you weren’t sure why, but it wasn’t just raining. it started to pour, especially hard, on this spring day. you want to think that was what made your mood all miserable and forlorn.

not to forget the fact that you didn’t have an umbrella, leaving you no other choice but to throw your hood on and tighten the strings of your hoodie over your school uniform. not exactly the most stylish look, yet it was comfortable enough for you.

you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion, but you felt out of place, like for some weird reason… you didn’t belong here. like you belonged out of this circle, away from this life and world.

that feeling always came up when it started to rain, and you always tried your best to suppress it. but it was particularly strong today.

you shrugged it off though. those “phases” weren’t uncommon, right?

though you made it halfway out the school grounds by yourself, hyein and hanni catch up to you as you walk. you give them a half-hearted smile, “hey.”

it doesn’t take much for them to notice your off behavior. hyein eyes you.

“you okay, y/n?”

you debate internally, reminding yourself that they’re your friends. you can trust them, rely on them. you’re allowed to do that. even more so, aren’t you supposed to do that?

but the words that come out of your mouth suggest otherwise. you shrug, “it’s nothing. it’s just been a weird day, you know?”

they share a glance before turning back to you, sympathetic smiles on their faces. hanni pats you on the shoulder, “yeah, we get it. you should get some rest at home, y/n. we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“be careful on the way back! the rain doesn’t look like it’s stopping soon.” she calls out before they continue, leaving you behind—still as soaked as ever.

you wave before sighing, gripping the straps of your backpack tighter and making your way towards the train station. the sound of the rain almost makes you fall into a daze as you go about your way. all your school stuff and clothes were definitely getting soaked, which probably meant an oncoming cold, but you could’ve cared less.

the only thing that mattered was going home and sleeping off this weird feeling, so it could become tomorrow and you didn’t have to be in this situation anymore.

the train station is strangely busy, you figure the downpour was making everyone go home sooner. you bypass several people, almost getting your soaked and stained shoes stepped on several times. all while muttering quiet “excuse me’s” to practically everyone and anyone who cared to listen.

after what seemed like ages, you manage to make it to your train. although, the large crowd surrounding the entrance effectively prevents you from getting anywhere.

you mutter a curse, trying to navigate through the waves of people. you just barely get on before the doors begin closing. letting out a huff in relief, you lean back against the door and slowing yourself a moment to close your eyes in peace. all the seats were obviously taken at that point, so you had no choice but to stand. that’s fine—you end up drifting off anyway.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. or why you feel even more exhausted when you wake up. but the robotic voice announcing your arrival makes your eyes automatically flutter open. you feel your body getting pushed and shoved around as everyone tries to get out all at once.

so you grit your teeth and tug down your hood further until you can finally get out. you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings, too focused on not getting knocked to the ground. when you finally stumble out of the crowd onto the station platform, you try to collect yourself while shaking your head. then you frown,

wait a second-

something solid knocks into you from the side, a rough oof! escaping out of their--mouth?

you’re knocked onto the ground, bottom first. pain shoots into your palms that tried (and failed) to catch your fall—and obviously, your butt as well.

you groan, eyes flashing in annoyance at your unknown assailant. looking up, you stop at the sight of the… boy in front of you.

you really have no idea why, but a question immediately pops into your head—

have you met before?

you don’t voice it, but it lingers in the back of your mind. the boy—as far as you can tell, he looks around your age— simply stares at you. he’s in a strikingly similar uniform.

a flicker of recognition passes in his eyes before you watch his expression grow flabbergasted. he continues to stare at you for a solid minute, while you only stare back in confusion, still on the floor.

“it’s rude to stare, you know.” you finally state with a furrowed brow as you quickly gathering your bearings.

his only response is a blink.

it's like the two of you are frozen in time, everyone else getting drowned out in the moment.

you frown, narrowing your eyes at him. “hello? did you hear me?” you repeat yourself and this time he snaps out of it.

“y-you’re not supposed to be here.” he gets out shakily, looking around while his hand runs through his dark locks in distress. you cross your arms, “what do you mean? this is my stop…”

you falter when you remember what you saw earlier. when you got off the train, you took a quick glance at the signs and posts. yeah, this definitely wasn’t your stop.

that wouldn’t have been a huge issue- if it wasn’t for the fact that you never missed your station, no matter the circumstances.

“no!” he exclaims and you flinch at the outburst. the boy glances at you again, and this time you involuntarily shiver at the unreadable look in his eyes.

“you’re…. you’re supposed to be dead.”

your mouth drops open.

“what a great first thing to say to someone you just bowled over. not even a sorry..” you mutter off, suddenly finding the strength to get up and wipe your hands.

the boy takes a step back away from you. curiously, you take one forward, towards him. he gestures a hand at you almost aggressively.

“you’re dead. you died. i swear-“

you hold out your hands in half desperation and half exasperation, “i dunno if this is some dumb prank or something i missed, but i hate to break it to you. i’m not dead. i’m literally right here in front of you. i think i would know if i died or not. i’m-”

again, that feeling of being out of place washes over you. this time it steals your breath away.

the strange boy shakes his head. “there’s no way. i know exactly who you look like.”

his next words make your blood run cold.

“you’re exactly like y/n y/l/n—who died a week ago.” he looks you up and down again, hands curling into fists.

“who are you? and why do you look just-?”

“because that’s who i am? my name is y/n! now, if you would excuse me.”

you hold up a hand, you didn’t have the time or patience to deal with weirdos on the street. it did struck a little odd that he knew your name, but then again he must’ve gone to your school and heard of you somewhere. the only thing that unsettled you was his reaction.

it just seemed too real, like he couldn’t have been that good at acting.

he grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving. all he does is shake his head again like he’s just trying to reassure himself. you’re about to protest, so utterly confused at what’s happening-how you missed your stop and why this strange boy is saying that you’re dead. none of it makes sense.

his face looks pale and grim, and you’re sure yours look exactly the same. “you can’t be y/n. and yet, here you are right in front of me.”

“i will scream like a little girl for help if you don’t let me go at this-“

“p-please. this isn’t a joke. you can’t be here. we need to get out of here—where everyone can’t see you.”

before you can even splutter a response, he drags you off.

you can call me niki, his words echo in your head.

his name rolls off your tongue unfamiliarly. in his states of panic—to which niki kept slapping himself and you kept denying that you were a hallucination—

you ended up introducing yourselves and deciding to find a better place to discuss. more like, niki decided. you soon began to regret that decision.

all you wanted to do was go home, but this persistent kid you’ve never seen before wouldn’t let you or your conscience go. maybe it was the weird feeling from earlier, but you have the urge to at least hear him out. but when you walked out of that train station behind him, everything was wrong.

you don’t know how to describe it. it was right but… at the same time, it wasn’t.

to begin with, you ended up at the wrong station but it led you to the right street to get home. the streets name were the same, but the stores weren’t.

and the bus stop—the bus driver that had worked there for fifteen years, the one you had greeted for fifteen years, suddenly became an entirely different person. he never missed a day, no matter what occasion it was.

things weren’t right and you had no idea what was going on.

following niki, you get lost in your thoughts. you shake your head, clapping a hand over your forehead. maybe… you’re just in a weird dream. a really realistic one, because none of this made sense. it wasn’t raining anymore either, which would’ve been fine, excluding for one tiny detail: the streets were completely dry. judging by the strength of the rain earlier, it really shouldn’t—no, it couldn’t have dried up that fast.

It wasn’t physically possible.

you could easily navigate your way around this area because you lived here all your life. and yet, it felt like you didn’t live here. not when this random stranger (only on a first name basis) keeps insisting that you died.

niki—or whoever—leads you to a very familiar library, the same one where you spent hours studying for your finals. you head in, feeling a bit better hearing the familiar entrance chime. you walk ahead of him to take your spot by the back corner. the fact that this place was essentially the same gave you some comfort.

niki seems surprised, but he doesn’t say anything, only taking the seat across from you.

“okay.” you start, glancing at the boy with wary eyes.

“if whatever bs you’re spewing is true, explain.”

he raises his eyebrows.

“me? explain?”

you nod and he scoffs, “i think you’re the one who should be explaining. after all, you’re the one that’s supposed to be dead-“

“i’m not dead.” you grit out, rolling your eyes.

“okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender, “but you still need to talk.”

you sigh, rubbing your temples.

“what do you want me to say? that i got soaked, took the train home, overslept, and then missed my stop? then, i bumped into a weird boy-”

he shoots you an offended look, which you ignore.

“-who keeps telling me that i died. oh, and the more and more i stay here with you, the more wrong everything gets?” you barely get the last word out before niki leans in, eyes focused intently on you.

the closer he gets, you more you begin to malfunction. you unconsciously hold your breath, alarm and confusion evident in your eyes. his hand reaches out, slowly, to your head. your body freezes.

his fingers catch a drop of water at the tip of your hair. “sorry. that was bothering me.”

you exhale, glaring at him. “are you serious?”

“yeah. are you?”

“no,” you deadpan, “i’m a ghost and i’m haunting you. of course i’m being serious!”

he gives you an unconvinced look and you roll your eyes, “i’m y/n y/l/n. we live an hour away from the capital. my house is two blocks away in the neighborhood with the broken fountain, and right now we’re at the library that doesn’t open on thursdays.

you harshly tug off your suddenly dry hoodie, displaying your school uniform.

“and by the looks of it, we go to the same school.”

his eyes widen as he leans in closer to study your uniform. you shrug away, caught off guard. then you frown, “but i’ve never seen you before at school. how do i know that you’re not some imposter? that you somehow stole a uniform to get something from me?”

he rolls his eyes while you gaze at him suspiciously.

“obviously not, because that’s dumb.”

you scoff.

“i live here. why would i go through all the trouble to steal a uniform to get something from you? besides, what would i need from some-“

he glances at you and you tense,

“-kid like you? you’re the one who came out of the train looking so suspicious, it’s like you appeared out of nowhere,” he counters.

you place your palms flat on the table, “okay, it’s obvious we aren’t getting anywhere. we both don’t have answers and we’re not even close to one. all i know is that i’m alive,” you shoot him another look, “and that i somehow ended up here. now, can i go?”

there’s a brief pause before niki speaks up, slowly. “i already told you, you can’t be seen. come with me. and keep the hood on.”

you roll your eyes. who was he to boss you around?

he grumbles something along the lines of- “don’t want to be seen walking around with a dead person.”

the only reason you listened was partly due to fear that you would lose your way in this familiar, yet unfamiliar place. except, you know exactly where he’s taking you. because it’s the same neighborhood you live in.

“wait,” you call out, “this is where i live.” you point to your house, and niki grimaces.

“i know. there were police here for days.”

you stop, unsure of what to say or do. police? at your house? when?

you stare at your supposed house, suddenly dark and empty. what in the world happened?

“come on,” niki calls out and you move to catch up. you’re starting to think niki may be telling the truth.

soon enough, you make it to an unfamiliar house about a street down from yours. as niki unlocks the door, you take the opportunity to study him, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen him before. but when he turns to you, you clear your throat and look away.

“this is my house,” he tilts his head while opening the door.

you like the fact that it’s messy. it felt much more homey because of that. it was also a lot bigger than yours, filled with fancy and intricate things. to which you assume this niki guy has more money than he has yet to admit. he tells you to wait in the living room, and he soon returns with a stack of books.

you pause, “yearbooks?“

he nods, “yeah, our school’s.”

strangely enough, most of the covers are different than yours at home.

but everything else is the same, like the name and logo. he pulls out this year’s yearbook and flips through before stopping at a page.

“that’s me,” he points to the picture of him and you tilt your head, frowning.

“huh. so we are in the same year. but i’ve never seen you in my yearbook—or at school before. i swear i would’ve seen you at least once before...”

you rub your temples, this whole situation was making your head hurt. none of it made sense. you study his picture, why in the world did he actually look good in his yearbook photo? your eyes shift toward his name,

nish—

he turns the page before you can finish reading, only to get distracted by seeing familiar classmates in your yearbook. niki stays silent as he flips through pages and you continue to point out your friends and classmates and stare in wonder at the unfamiliar ones-

ones that you’ve never seen before in your life but somehow their faces are printed on the page, in the same grade and same school as you.

just like niki. you were actually speechless.

eventually, he stops flipping eventually and looks at you. you catch his eye and glance down at the page, immediately catching on. you breath hitches.

“no way—”

“—and there’s you.”

it is you. you can confirm, it’s a photo of someone who looks exactly like you. but… it’s not you.

almost everything is the same, your face and clothes. your hair was cut shorter, and your smile wider for the picture. you were even wearing makeup, for crying out loud. you can only stare at the photo.

according to niki, this you is dead?

you look up at him, stomach churning. what in the world was going on?

the silence lasts until niki finally speaks up with a hesitant tone. “i might be tripping, but have you ever heard of… alternate realities?”

you shake your head firmly, “don’t even get me started on that-“

he cuts you off, “i know, i know. but just hear me out.”

you have no choice but to internally whisper a quiet plea of help. he scoots closer,

“wouldn’t it make sense? there’s really no other explanation. maybe it’s because i watched that spider-man movie recently, but you being from another world would explain how you’re alive right now—when in this world, you’re dead. plus, all the similarities and differences that you mentioned can be chalked up to different timelines—the butterfly effect and stuff like that.”

you don’t know what to say.

could it actually be?

what other explanation could there be?

“please say something,” niki mumbles and you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“okay. okay. fine. say the whole multiverse crap is true. then how did i even get here? how did i—”

you do air quotations,

“—switch dimensions to another world?”

niki shrugs, “no idea.”

he scratches his head, “it’s weird to think about but i mean, maybe there’s a reason why you came here.”

his voice suddenly gets lower and you shiver, “you know, the timing’s a bit weird that you showed up right after the other you passed away.”

you clear your throat, “let’s not think about that right now. we should probably focus on the whole me being dead thing, right?”

“what?”

you glance at him questioningly, “what?”

niki raises an eyebrow. “what’s there to focus on? you died.”

you don’t have to rub it in my face, you mumble under your breath.

“shouldn’t we be focusing on how to get you back to your world?”

you roll your eyes, “sure, but still, i kinda want to know how i died? i think i deserve to, you know, so maybe i don’t make the same dumb mistake back home.”

“-if you ever get home,” he corrects and you huff.

“whatever, just tell me. we don’t even know if your dumb alternate reality theory is right.”

“okay,” niki rubs his hands nervously and you wait in anticipation.

“well, it actually happened last thursday.”

you swallow. why was your heart rate picking up?

“at school. on, uh, the rooftop. no one witnessed it, and the cctv was broken so we don’t have any exact answers. but from what I’ve heard,” he gives you a cautious glance,

“the police are about ready to call it a suicide.”

at first, you think you misheard him. but the hesitant gaze and pause proves you otherwise.

at first it doesn’t hit you. but then suddenly you feel sick to your stomach. your hand grips the table for support as you try to take it all in.

you?

a suicide at school?

what about your family, your friends-

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head. “i… i would never-“

you slam your hands on the table, “i know myself. i would never do that.”

his face is grim and sympathetic, which you can feel the dislike churn in your stomach at that. “i’m really sorry… that’s the current situation. it kinda blew up at school, but everything’s still so recent that nothing is confirmed yet.“

unspoken words linger in the back of his head, that he questions if he should say it or not.

that niki really didn’t know you that well, that you were just another classmate of his. one that he passed in the halls without a second glance back. that the you in his world-

was just a stranger to him.

yet seeing you, desperate and alive, right in front of his eyes. he doesn’t know what to do or say. so niki watches you bury your head in your hands. and he waits.

it’s only a couple of minutes later that you look up. his face morphs into one of surprise when he sees your determined expression.

“niki,” you state carefully and he nods, waiting patiently.

“are you sure that i-i did it?”

you can’t bring yourself to say the word but niki gets it. he sighs,

“no. no one’s sure. but from what i’ve heard, the police haven’t found any other motives so… a suicide seemed most likely.” the more and more niki talked, the more unsure he got.

your face hardens.

“so there’s no proof? the police aren’t doing their freaking job and investigating?”

his eyes widen—surprised at your sudden outburst—and you sigh, voice falling to a whisper.

“did i really commit suicide? and why do i care so much?”

something warm falls over your hand and you jump, glancing up.

even for only a split second, his hand covers yours in a sympathetic attempt, “i’m sorry y/n. i wish i had answers but i really don’t know…”

despite the awkward look on niki’s face and overall awkward situation, his words strangely comfort you.

you bite your bottom lip. “i-i have to get to my house.”

he stiffens, “what?”

you stare at him, eyes sharp, “if no one else is going to do something, i at least have to.”

you need to. for yourself.

niki scoots closer, “y/n, you can’t just-“

“i know. but i need to know. something just-ugh,” you rub your face in frustration, “something doesn’t add up. i have to check. it’s like i can feel it deep within me.”

he sits there wordlessly. when you don’t get a response, you stand up. niki splutters, “w-where are you going?”

you cross your arms, “without or without you, i’m going to my house.”

he slaps a hand to his face in frustration. “just how stubborn are you?” he mumbles. you hear it and yet you decide to ignore him.

“thanks for the help i guess,” you give him a (weak) half-smile before turning towards the door

“wait! you’re being serious?!”

his desperate voice calls out and you internally debate if you should listen to him or not. slowly, you turn back around, “yeah. do you need something?”

“no, but you do— a plan. especially since the police closed off your house for investigation. plus, most of the evidence would have been taken already.” he clasps his hands together behind his back.

you shrug. “okay, and? i’ll still find a way. i have nothing to lose. i’m not even supposed to be alive.”

he groans loudly and you raise an eyebrow.

“idiot. i’m trying to say that i’ll help you. i-i want to help you.”

“i didn’t ask,” you raise your hands in mock surrender. annoyed, niki puts his hands on his hips.

“sure, but i know plenty of things you don’t. this is my world. so, are you gonna accept or not?”

“you wish you did,” you retort, yet you can’t help the small smile that grows on your face, “but… i would appreciate it. just be grateful that i’m accepting your dumb theory from a spider-man movie as of right now.”

niki gulps at the sight. it was the first time he saw you smile since you met. at least, the first smile he saw from the you of an alternate universe.

“whatever you say,” he holds out a hand,

“miss imposter.”

you take it gladly, harshly. “don’t call me that-“

“my name is y/n y/l/n.”

you spin around in niki’s chair, having went up to his room to figure out your so called master plan. niki (respectfully) offered to let you stay in his room for the length of your “visit.”

to which you almost punched him.

but he explained that there were no extra guest rooms and you were still technically dead, so hiding in his room was the best bet as to not raise any questions. you could take the makeshift bed in the corner of his room as to not raise suspicion. you were surprised yet grateful.

“i’ll grab extra blankets and pillows. and i’ll sneak you food and whatever you need.”

“what about clothes and toiletries?”

he yawns, “easy. i’ll steal some from my sisters.”

you feel bad, but you realize you have no other choice. you were literally stuck here.

a part of you still wondered if this was a dream. a horrible one, at the least. but while you were stuck here, might as well make the best of it. niki graciously offered and you had no choice but to accept. you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“so basically, i’m like a secret pet you’re hiding from your parents?”

“technically… yes,” niki rubs his hands together, and you can only watch the mischievous expression grow on his face.

“but i like to think that you’re like eleven. you’re different—you’re special, like her.”

you hold back a laugh at the words.

clearing your throat, you try to play it off. “from stranger things? your world has that show too?” he lets out a scandalous gasp and this time you giggle.

“of course, dude. what kind of world would i be living in if i didn’t have stranger things?”

“apparently a horrible one,” you snort.

after the whole living situation was sorted out, you returned to your investigation.

“so you’re saying the police taped off my house for further examination?”

“uh, yeah? that’s how it works?” he raises a brow.

you stuck your tongue out at him, “okay, smartass. then how do we get in?”

“clearly, there’s only one way: sneak in.”

“i don’t think this is a good idea?” niki whisper shouts at you and you shush him.

the sun was barely setting. if anyone knew you, they knew you really couldn’t be deemed as patient of any sort.

niki watches you struggle up the tree in your backyard.

obviously, going through the front door was a no go. luckily this house looked pretty much the same as your house, at least from the outside. you knew your parents weren’t home judging by the darkness. you wondered if they were staying with other family.

or were they at work? so soon after your death?

you grimace, now was not the time to be getting in your feelings.

the best (only) option was jumping the backyard fence and going in through your bedroom window. leading to your predicament now.

you exhale heavily when you find a place to rest, gripping the tree with all your might in hopes that you don’t fall

you glance down at niki.

“can you make it?”

he scoffs,

“easy.”

it was easy— easy for you to watch niki struggle to get up to your point.

you were sort of scared the tree wasn’t going to support both your weights, at the way it was trembling slightly. niki makes it though, by the time the sun is well down.

you can see him sweating heavily and your nose scrunches in amusement,“easy, huh?”

“yeah, for you just standing there and watching me. we don’t have all day, grandma.”

“don’t call me that,” you mutter while stretching out towards your window.

niki’s eyes widen.

“be careful, y/n.”

“i got it,” you stretch out a leg to the ledge and your sweaty hands begin to slide from the bark, most likely from exertion.

without even thinking about it, niki places his hands around your waist to stabilize you. you don’t notice in your concentration to not fall to your death. you certainly didn’t want another dead you.

your foot clicks the lock, and with a grunt you’re able to push the window open.

“you got it?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, clumsily making your way in. you reach out a hand for niki and he takes it, maneuvering his long body in through the small window.

finally, you can breathe.

it’s the first time you have the luxury to desperately wish that you were home right now. your real home. you certainly didn’t mean this home, the empty and cold looking one locked up for the police’s investigation.

after catching your breath, you get up to examine your surroundings. you weren’t not sure what you were expecting. this was the other you’s room.

all you can think is, at least this y/n was much cleaner than you.

a part of you feels like you’re invading someone’s privacy. but then you realize that it’s literally your own privacy that you’re invading, with the addition of niki. you actually can’t believe the absurdity of the situation.

at first glance the room looks pretty normal, an average teenagers room. not what you expected for yourself, but there’s not much you can see. you turn to niki,

“there’s no shot we’ll get caught right?”

he gives you another sympathetic look, “we’ll keep a look out for the police, but i heard your parents were busy with your other family and funeral preparations, so it wouldn’t be them catching us.”

“oh.”

the air feels so glum, you clear your throat to move on. “guess we should look around?”

he nods and begins to snoop around.

“wait,” you call out hesitantly.

niki cocks his head and you cough awkwardly.

“it’s still my room, so like, be careful with what you look through.”

he rolls his eyes. “yeah. i got it.”

you gaze at the photos on your shelf, displaying your happy family and friends. it just made you acknowledge how precious they were. it made you miss your friends and family at home even more.

you’re appalled at the books you read. you shake your head, seriously? you take out one of the books-

“ten days to love,” you voice aloud with disgust written across your face.

you weren’t one to judge, but what kind of cheesy romance novels were you reading?

niki opens your closet and you turn at the sound. your eyes widen-

wait a second,

your closet with clothes? possibly including…. more personal things?

you dash over in desperation, praying that niki hasn’t already seen something that he shouldn’t.

“don’t!”

his wide eyes meet your panicked ones, shocked at the sudden change of events. he doesn’t move until you push past him, blocking the door from his view.

“you didn’t see anything, right?” you stare at niki desperately and he furrows his eyebrows.

“no? am i not supposed-“

“no reason. just being cautious. we can, uh, open it together.”

you carefully examine your belongings inside before deeming it safe for niki’s eyes. you let out a sigh of relief.

he gives you a weird look and you shoot him an exaggerated smile.

“you can proceed!”

he mutters something under his breath as you continue your search on the other side of the room. it didn’t seem like there was anything of importance on the shelves. but, after careful examination, you see a glimpse of something. pushing past some folders, your face morphs into a stunned one.

you pull out…

a pink teddy bear with hearts? why would this be in your room?

and even more so, why was it hidden?

niki calls out your name and you turn around. your mouth drops open.

“a box of chocolates?“

he scoffs, “yeah. stuffed behind some clothes in your closet for some reason.”

“it’s not even the good brand,” you mutter.

niki laughs, “maybe you had secret admirers from school?” suddenly, you give him a suspicious glance.

“what makes you say that? you sure you weren’t one of them?”

he side eyes you, “trust me, you wouldn’t catch me within five feet of you at school.”

you walk over to shove his arm and he only laughs harder. you huff, suppressing a smile on your face as you turn away. but you keep niki’s comment in the back of your mind.

after a solid thirty minutes, you can feel your resolve waning. there was no sign indicating that you felt suicidal. at least, none that you found after the police probably scrounged through everything. some stuff was suspicious—

like the teddy bear and chocolates. and some lavish perfume and makeup in the drawers. that just wasn’t your style. but you supposed this world’s you was just different.

just because you weren’t particularly into those things didn’t mean another you couldn’t be.

“did i have a diary? what about my phone?”

niki frowns, “the police would’ve taken it. it’s their evidence now.”

you suddenly get an idea, and it’s probably wasn’t a good one.

“hey, niki?” you call out. he hums in response.

“what day and time is it, currently?”

“uh…” he checks his watch, “sunday. 8pm. why?”

“when does the police station close?”

dummy, most people would say--why would the police station be closed?

luck seemed to be on your side, because you knew especially well from complaints by locals, that your local police station did actually have a curfew. and you could only hope it was the same here.

niki scratches his head, “in ten minutes? why are-“

his mouth drops open, “no. no. no.” you shrug and he shakes his head adamantly, “y/n, there’s no way that we’re going to sneak in.”

you dust off your hands, “i’m all ears for any other ideas you have.”

you have him at that and he falls silent. after a couple moments, he speaks up albeit hesitantly. “well… i might have a way.“

you grin. “onwards, then.”

“wait, so how did you manage to get access again?”

he coughs, “my friend jungwon is the son of the police deputy chief… so i may have called in for a favor.”

“he managed to sneak in with his dad’s keys and get the files to my case?” you finish.

he nods.

“illegally?”

he nods again.

you tap your chin, “would we get arrested if we got caught?”

he shrugs, “probably.”

“good thing i’m not from this world.”

perhaps secretly hanging outside this jungwon’s house was not the best idea, either. he rolls his eyes before offering the file to you.

“do you want to open it?” to your surprise, his voice comes out quite comforting and soft.

you gulp, “i guess i should.”

you feel sick for the second time that day. luckily, the photo didn’t show too much. not that it made it any better. it was still you, dead.

you had to look at yourself and imagine yourself in that situation. you cover your mouth and niki immediately takes the file away from you. he watches worriedly as you shake your head.

“i’m fine. i-is there anything else your friend managed to get?”

“are you sure?”

“yes.” he doesn’t protest anymore at the tone of finality in your voice.

niki pulls out a bag with your name on it. taking a deep breath in, you open it. you shuffle through some things hurriedly until niki speaks up.

“hold on a sec,” he softly places a hand on your arm to stop your actions.

“we should be careful. someone could notice that we tampered with the evidence so we need to be very careful when putting things back. plus, we have to give it back to him as soon as possible—we don’t want them noticing that your stuff is missing.”

you curse, “that’s right. we can’t risk taking anything.”

“then what?”

you pinch your nose bridge, “we snap pictures and hope it’s good enough. unless we want to take another field trip here.”

you manage to snap a few pictures and go through a few things. you catch a glimpse of your diary and flip to the most recent page. it was about a week and a half ago, and-

it wasn’t finished. you skim through it, reading boring stuff about how your day was and how you met-

you squint.

the rest of the words were scratched out, harshly, with a black marker. seeing how it was getting late and dark, you can’t make out who’s name it was even with your phone flashlight. you wonder, could it be-

your thoughts are interrupted by niki.

“y/n, i think we need to hurry and head home soon. the longer we stay out, the greater risk we’re at for getting caught. oh, and i found your phone.”

he holds it up and the extremely glittery case makes your eyes hurt. you eye it. heaving a deep breath, you prepare yourself to open your phone.

but when you click the power button and nothing happens, you groan. you try again, and again, holding it down for seconds but the screen remains black.

“the phone’s dead.” you sigh again and niki bites his lip.

“maybe we should give up. we can ask jungwon another time,” he suggests

you nod wearily and he closes the box. as he gathers everything, opening his phone to text his friend to come back out, you glance at the time. it was quite late for a school day.

“that’s right, you have school tomorrow?”

he groans, “yeah. i guess you’ll just have to stay home in my room. no one will go in while i’m at school, so you don’t have to worry.”

you nod, “okay.”

it felt weird knowing you were supposed to be at home, in bed and preparing to go to school yourself the next day. instead, you were stuck in another world—in a stranger’s room, forced to hide since you were supposed to be dead.

were you considered missed at home? did anyone notice? call the cops?

more like, if anyone cared?

while you get ready for bed in niki’s bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror.

yes, you affirm, you’re alive.

you’re staring back at yourself, dressed in one of niki’s oversized shirts and basketball shorts.

but the image of your dead face flashes in your mind and you immediately squeeze your eyes shut. you breathe heavily, hands planted on the sides of the sink.

everything’s fine. you will get back home. things will figure themselves out. you’re okay. you’re breathing and-

a knock on the door makes you jump.

“y/n? everything okay?” niki’s voice sounds out hesitantly, “it seemed like you were taking a while so-“

the door swings open.

you stand there, face emotionless. he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. niki tries to keep the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head, but it won’t seem to go away.

“goodnight, niki.”

you slowly walk over to the temporary bed he’s set up on the floor for you. he blinks,

“night, y/n.”

it’s surprisingly comfortable, or maybe you’re just so exhausted you don’t seem to care or question anything anymore.

you hear light footsteps padding to turn off the lights.

in the darkness, your eyes close. but your mind is awake.

you know his is too, judging by the sounds of quite shuffling every couple minutes or so.

“niki?” you say quietly.

another shuffle.

“yeah?”

“this may sound weird, but have you noticed anyone that looked particularly sad?”

there’s a pause.

“about you?”

“yeah, but not like the typical sadness. like, anyone who seems to have changed drastically after hearing about me? let’s say,” you swallow, “any guys or friends of yours who seemed particularly upset or affected?”

niki rolls to the other side of his bed so that he faces you, but in the darkness he can only see the outline of your figure. “y/n, what are you trying to say?”

you tug the covers over yourself a little tighter.

“nevermind, niki. have a good day at school tomorrow, and don’t worry about waking me up. you won’t be able to.”

“wasn’t planning on it,” he snorts.

you fall asleep with a faint smile still lingering on your face.

the next day at school, niki struggles. he struggles when it’s supposed to be another normal day, and all he can think about is you.

especially about what you said.

niki never paid much attention before to his surroundings, there was no reason to. but now he keeps an eye open.

he eyed anyone who passed by your locker, empty desk in class, anyone who mentioned your name. but the fact that you mentioned guys specifically, made him confused.

why did it matter if a guy was upset? a lot of people were shocked and sad at the news. niki shook his head. he didn’t get it.

meanwhile, you stayed at his home.

thinking.

thinking about yesterday. somehow everything that happened was all just yesterday. you took the train and ended up here. then you found out you were apparently dead.

you spent what felt like hours scrolling through the photos you took and waiting for niki to come home. all while eating snacks that niki left for you graciously.

you don’t even know what time it is when you hear the door begin to open. you scramble to your feet before realizing that there was a chance it wasn’t niki.

you go back to your hiding spot, shrinking underneath the covers. next thing you know, the bedroom door flings open. you tense.

however, a call of your name allows you to let out a sigh of relief. you hop up, “niki!”

he grins, looking rather cute in his ruffled school uniform, backpack slung off one shoulder. you stop yourself, horrified at your thought. at your face falling, he cocks his head. “what’s wrong?”

you laugh awkwardly, “nothing! nothing at all!”

he gives you an unconvinced look but doesn’t press further.

“you must’ve been bored without me.”

that was the niki you’ve come to know (in the span of a day or so). sarcasm drips from your lips as you laugh dryly, “sure.”

but you knew he was right and he knew it too.

“i spent the day looking through the pictures, but i couldn’t find much else,” you frown.

“same here. today was pretty normal, no one seemed any different than usual…”

“i mean, the mood has been somber ever since you,” he pauses, “left. but nothing out of the ordinary.”

you seemingly deflate, but niki perks up. “i talked to jungwon and he said he’s going to try and get your phone next time. we can only hope that someone charges it or that we can charge it ourselves.”

you nod, “that’s good.”

“but, don’t you have work to do? what about your family?”

you realized you didn’t see or even hear of them yesterday.

“oh, they usually stay late at the dance academy—me included. but my grades haven’t been good recently, so they’ve been forcing me to go to home and study…”

you tsk as niki gives you a sheepish look.

“you know, while we’re waiting, i’m not too bad at studying myself. what do you need help with?”

niki rolls his eyes, “thanks, but no thanks. i don’t need another person on my back about my grades.”

instead, he falls back onto his bed with an oof.

“don’t worry, i’ll manage. let’s just talk about our next step.

“step? as in, my case?

“yeah,“ his eyes glint, “i have an idea.”

you were starting to believe he was getting more invested in this than you were.

“okay—shoot.”

what was the worse thing he could suggest?

“we should sneak you into school-“

your eyes practically bulge as you gape at him. “excuse me? weren’t you the one saying i was going too far with sneaking into my own house and you want me to do what?”

niki gets up, placing his arms on your shoulders to calm you. strangely enough, it did.

“hear me out first—we sneak into school at night, bust open your locker, and see what you have. that’s better than waiting for jungwon.”

“don’t you think the police would have already looked through my locker?

“well, he looks around nervously, “as far as i’ve heard, the police were already mostly convinced the case was closed and didn’t care to check. but, what can i say? rumors are just rumors.”

you purse your lips. what did you have to lose? being in a different world made you much more reckless than you would have ever thought. but that didn’t mean you were going to be stupid about it.

“fine.”

niki winces at your tone, but you speak up,

“how in this stupid multiverse crap am i going to break into my own locker? and with cameras all around school?

he smirks and you raise an eyebrow.

“i didn’t miss a whole chem lecture for nothing—“

confused, you give him a look as if to say, what in the world are you talking about?

“who said we had to know the combination?” he takes out a pair of keys form his pocket.

you gasp in awe, clasping a hand over your mouth.

you gaze at him with wide eyes for a second, causing him to look at you questioningly.

“you’re actually being smart...”

his confused expression immediately changes to one of irritation.

you stand up straight again, “how did you even get those keys? and what about the cameras?”

he winks and you glance at him, trying to remain expressionless. if there was anything you noticed, it was that niki was actually quite attractive. it made you wonder if he was popular at school…

“it’s a secret. don’t worry about it.”

“you sure have a lot of secrets, niki. like, is niki even your real name?” you squint accusingly.

niki chokes on his spit, “how in the world did you know?”

you falter. “huh? it isn’t?”

he clears his throat, “anyway, i have to get up early for school tomorrow.”

you eye him but decide to let it go. niki shrugs, “usually i’m up playing games, but you look like you need the sleep with those eye bags. you aren’t surprised.

“tomorrow night,” he says shortly after. “i’ve got a plan—you just have to trust me.”

turns out said plan was dumb, but you really had no other choice.

niki made some lame excuse to his teachers about staying late to study- and his teachers, being utterly shocked that he offered to study, immediately agreed to let him linger.

meanwhile, niki would sneak you in, wearing one of his old uniforms that was too small for him so that just in case, no one would question anything. along with one of his totally inconspicuous baseball caps to hide your face and hair.

you sigh, you couldn't believe you were sneaking into school through the boys bathroom. you groan while maneuvering through the window. niki shushes you, causing you to stick your tongue out at him. he raises his hands playfully and you resist the urge to smack him.

on your way to jump down from the window, your left foot gets caught on the ledge. you stumble forward, expecting to be met with the revolting bathroom floor face first. instead, perhaps now was the time to thank the universe (in this case, his universe?) for niki’s quick reflexes.

he inhales, catching you by catching and pulling you towards him instead of the ground, essentially into his arms.

instead of faceplanting into the ground rather foolishly, you fall into his strangely soft and warm chest. you let out a barely discernible squeak, unable to respond due to the pounding of your heart.

after a couple of seconds—that felt like forever— niki lets you go with a shake of his head.

“my god y/n, i had no clue you were this clumsy. please don’t ever do that again.”

please don’t ever make me sneak into a nasty teenage bathroom again, you wish you could retort.

you shake your head quickly, lips pressed thinly together. don’t get distracted, you remind yourself. “yeah-thanks. let’s uh, just hurry.“

you don’t have time to wonder what would the consequences be if you got caught by cameras or anyone else while niki leads you down the familiar hallways.

“how do you know which one’s my locker? i thought you said we didn’t really know each other?“ you eye him suspiciously.

he scoffs, “don’t get too excited. mine’s just a couple lockers down so i was bound to see you at your locker by some point.”

he hands you the keys and you gratefully accept—your hands slightly trembling. you didn’t know what to expect.

niki watches from behind, and you can feel his warm breath on you occasionally, causing you to shiver.

with a slight click and creak of the rusty locker door, the locker opens. you hold your breath at first glance. it’s…. normal?

normal as in any average high schoolers locker one would expect. what catches your eye first are a couple of photos of you and your friends.

on deeper inspection of yourself (it was still weird to imagine and even weirder to see) you see a twinkling, intricate chain around your neck. maybe you were tripping (again, but mentally this time) or that necklace you had on seems really expensive?

“there’s no way,” you suddenly gasp and turn to niki with wide eyes.

“what?” niki starts to panic, “what is it?”

“am i actually loaded in this world?”

niki pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. “jesus, you scared me. i mean, you didn’t seem like it.. who knows where you got that super expensive, luxury brand necklace? it looks familiar…“

you try your hardest not to roll your eyes. of course, niki would know.

“how much are you talking?”

he taps his foot on the floor, “well, my mom and sister likes that brand. that specific necklace is specially made since it’s a seasonal limited edition, so it’s somewhere in the thousands-“

you truly forgot how rich niki’s family was, you think with a half joking tch and a shake of your head. niki glances at you, impressed.

“-whoever gave that to you must’ve really cared.”

you frown, “sure… or maybe i just really worked hard to get it for myself?”

he’s shoots you an amused look, “you wanted to get yourself the valentine day’s collection necklace?

“what?”

you feel your heart rate begin to pick up, “are you implying what i think you are?

“yes?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, “someone must’ve been really in love with you to gift you that. maybe your parents or friends?”

then niki pokes your side playfully, “-or a secret admirer?”

you don’t answer his question, regardless of if he was being serious or not. you peer into the locker again, “but where is it? it’s so valuable i’m certain we would’ve seen it in the police’s evidence…”

suddenly, niki grabs your wrist. that’s when you hear the footsteps. you turn to him with wide eyes as he mouths for you to hide. panicking, you look around in desperation before he pushes you—

straight into the locker.

your own locker.

you know you should be freaking out over getting caught, but you could only wonder—could this be considered a crime?

in the dark, stuffy locker, you see a glimpse of niki’s silhouette run past through the tiny openings of the door. just barely a second later, you hear more footsteps. squinting, you able to discern a familiar, yet weirdly unfamiliar guy. your eyebrows raise.

no way. park sunghoon was in this world too?

you hold your breath when you hear him call out, “is someone there?”

really, curse niki for shoving you in your own locker. yet it was also a smart move as no one could see into your locker, but you were able to see out.

“sorry. that was me, pres.”

it was niki’s voice.

you can barely see his relaxed demeanor appearing to face sunghoon.

“i was staying back to study and catch up on work—you know already,” he adds hastily.

sunghoon nods coolly, “i was just checking. making sure everything’s good before leaving.”

niki was a little too good at acting, you questioned how often he had done this to those around him. he fake salutes, “i promise to clean up after i’m done. no need to worry, class president.”

“alright, see you later.”

you have a sigh of relief as sunghoon turns to leave.

but you swear, for a split second, his expression changes as his eyes fall on your locker.

your heart rate picks up. did he notice you?

however, sunghoon leaves without a second look back.

you frown—what was that?

after waiting a minute to be safe, niki quickly lets you out. only to be greeted by your displeased face and crossed arms.

“that was the only thing i could think of in the moment!” he immediately defends himself.

“seriously? i could’ve-like-“ you trail off and niki smirks.

“see? nothing bad would’ve happened.”

“doesn’t change the fact you stuffed me in my locker. it’s not even mine, for crying out loud.”

“whatever. just be glad you didn’t get caught by park sunghoon, our school’s super rich, smart, and handsome-“

“i know him from my world. he’s irrelevant, let’s continue on.” you wave him off.

you can’t help but compare him to niki. niki was way more genuine and… boyish in a way? he felt real. you preferred that. not to mention he had a much more tolerable presence, you supposed.

everything else in the locker was useless. random crappy notes, perfumes and hand lotions, along with the pictures you already inspected were the only things that decorated your locker. no sign of that ridiculously expensive necklace.

you rub a hand over your face in exasperation. “that’s it…”

one thought still lingered in the back of your mind. where was the necklace?

“hey, y/n, i think we should get going soon. the lights are going to turn off soon-they’re automatic and we didn’t bring any flashlights.”

you sigh. next time.

it feels like you’ve hit a dead end. by the end of the week, niki has caught up on his studies. you were surprised to find that he was quite dedicated to school, even if it didn’t seem like it.

the days that niki came home with a pile of schoolwork and other duties, you went out to think—with one of niki’s hoodies and a mask on. but the times you spent with niki since you couldn’t go out much, mainly at night, were nice.

tutoring him at subjects he was struggling in, learning new dances together (and learning how talented he really was), simply being around him was enough to distract you from your impending crisis.

niki always came to keep you company and bring you food. you really were his eleven.

niki was gaming while you sat off to the side, watching him play. you admired his side profile, the shine from the bright computer screen enhancing his features, the furrow of his eyebrow as he focused.

he yells as his character dies and you can’t hold back your laughter, “you kinda suck-“

all of a sudden, you hear a knock on the door.

“bro, you good? i swear i heard another voice-“

the door handle begins to turn.

you and niki share a look of panic.

your first instinct is to dive and roll, underneath niki’s bed. you ignore the fact that it’s as dusty as you’d expect for a teenage boy’s room and hold your breath.

“mom said dinner is ready. also, what’s with all the noise? it sounded like someone else was in the room with you.” a girls voice—niki’s older sister, you presume.

“nope. just me.”

you cringe at the fact that niki’s voice is octaves higher. it wouldn’t be that much of a problem if his voice wasn’t as deep as it normally was.

“it was just probably the video i was playing.”

“…sure,” you hear his sister’s footsteps as she leaves and shuts the door behind her.

you let out an exhale of relief.

“y/n?” you hear soon after.

“under here.”

you turn to see niki’s head peeking down underneath the bed.

you meet his curious eyes. cute.

“jeez.” he holds a hand out and you gladly accept it, letting him pull you up with ease. huffing, you dust yourself off.

“jeez, indeed. who knows what horrors you’ve been hiding under there.”

“hey,” niki defends himself, “i’ll have you know i am a very clean person and don’t-“

“oh really? then what’s this?” you hold up the sacred item, jerking your hand back as he reaches out to snatch it.

“hey! haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

he lunges again as you laugh, just keeping it out of his grasp. however, you feel the bed frame hit your legs, and you gasp.

you fall back, niki over you on his bed. he must’ve underestimated his arm-span and overestimated yours.

niki lands over you with a soft grunt, eyes wide. you peer up at him wordlessly. his arms catch him, but it’s still so close you can feel his hair tickle your forehead.

is this what the movies mean when your heart… skips a beat?

niki snaps out of his trance, “s-sorry,” he hastily gets up. you cough, trying to dispel the stuffy atmosphere.

“so, uh, i had an idea.”

“yeah? what’s up?”

“i was thinking we look at the evidence again. i just want to double check something.”

“come on,” you take niki’s hand. it was habitual by this point.

“you got the charger, right?”

niki nods, taking it out of his pocket.

it was risky asking niki’s friend to retrieve the evidence for you again, but you needed to confirm your suspicions. or, hit a dead end.

when niki returns, carefully holding a plastic bag (and dinner, your grumbling stomach reminds you), your eyes zero in on one thing.

“thanks. i know it must be hard for your friend to sneak behind his dad’s back like that.”

“it’s fine,” niki shrugs, “i promised to buy him lunch for the next week.”

you snort as you take out “your” phone and plug it into the charger.

“okay. now we wait.”

niki looks at you expectantly, and you only stare at him back. subconsciously, a hand raises to your face. “is there something wrong?”

he shakes his head while looking away sheepishly, “nothing, nothing.”

you open your mouth to question him further, but the phone screen flashes. you scramble to open it. thankfully you were able to use your own face id.

as soon as you scroll through your messages, your stomach sinks. you raise a hand to cover your mouth.

“what?” niki jumps up, “what did you find?”

you open the photos app, which only confirms everything. you drop the phone, and that’s when niki sees it.

“oh my god.”

“don’t even-“

“i was secretly dating park sunghoon?!”

you cup a hand over your mouth. “i think i’m gonna be sick.”

niki scoffs, taken aback. “b-but how? you- and him-?”

you rub a hand over your face. “don’t ask me. but the valentines gifts and necklace were so suspicious, i started wondering… i just didn’t expect it to be him.”

niki notices the sour expression on your face.

“oh. you don’t like him?”

you shake your head vehemently, “bro, not even if he and i were the last two people on earth.”

you think about your world’s sunghoon and almost shudder. he was selfish, arrogant, could but would never keep a girl for more than two weeks. yet the whole class still loved him and you never understood it, never understood the appeal of him.

besides getting bro-zoned, niki relished your words.

“good to know.”

“i wish i didn’t,” you sigh.

but that was besides the point. you still didn’t know how it all added up. did sunghoon—unfortunately, your boyfriend in this world—have anything to do with your death? did he really get you that expensive necklace?

and as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t rule it out. thinking as rationally and fairly as possible, suicide was likely-as much as you didn’t believe it. you couldn’t rule it out simply based on a feeling. plus, his expression when he passed by your locker lingered in your mind.

“so, now what?” niki watches you carefully.

“you’ve heard of the saying, keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”

“yeah,” he cocks an eyebrow, “why?”

“well, i’ve got a task for you.”

niki has never spoken a word to your friend group in his entire life. the most he’s ever done was send a cold look their way and pretend not to know them out in public.

he had nothing against them—nothing against your choice of friends—but he preferred not to associate with your group. he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he just didn’t vibe with them.

and yet here he was, talking to your “friends” because you asked him to. he sighed, the things he did for you.

danielle looks him up and down with her arms crossed. “why are you asking about y/n? since when did you care about them?”

“please,” he sighs in exasperation, “i just need to know if anyone disliked y/n or was acting suspicious around them.”

haerin steps up, an annoyed frown on her face. “there’s no one. can’t you tell this is a touchy subject for us? now, leave us alone.”

she grabs danielle and walks off, angrily whispering into a distressed looking danielle’s ears.

niki wants to punch someone. besides the fact that surrounding people were catching onto his conversation and whispering about the interaction, he essentially got nothing out of it.

you were also at a dead end. after scrolling through hundreds of disgusting texts and photos of you and sunghoon, there was nothing remotely suspicious. plus, you had to give your phone back to jungwon soon before anyone noticed it was missing.

everything seemed normal. everything was normal. normal until this world’s you suddenly died.

the only lead you had was the missing necklace. and yet where were you supposed to find it? it could be anywhere—in the police’s hands, with sunghoon, most likely gone.

you couldn’t even go out on your own, you felt like a hopeless rapunzel trapped in her tower, desperately wishing for answers and freedom. it was starting to get to you. the stress, homesickness, and most of all, loneliness.

you throw your phone to the side and bury your face in your hands, trying your best to focus on your breathing. you almost don’t realize how long it’s been until you hear a faint call of your name.

“y/n? y/n, what’s wrong?” niki drops his backpack and rushes to your side.

his eyes carefully examine your body, checking for who knows what. you slowly lower your hands, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained face.

what scared niki the most was the lost look in your eyes, a deep and dark pool void of any emotion.

“niki… i don’t think i can do this anymore,” your words float out carefully, like a whisper of the wind.

“i’m trying my hardest, but it’s so frustrating. i miss my home, i miss my life. i miss myself.” as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel yourself break down. and right as you do so, niki reaches forward to wrap you in an embrace.

“i want to go home,” you whisper in an small voice.

his heart almost breaks at the sight. you sounded like a little kid—you looked like you were a little kid again, as small and curled up you were when he found you. in his eyes, he saw a lost child looking for their parents, their guidance and their own light in the world.

he resolves to never be the cause of your pain again.

niki holds you for the entire night as you cry and drift off to sleep.

you wake up with a headache and a dry throat. you feel hungover, although you’ve basically never drank alcohol before.

somehow, you’re not sure exactly when, you ended up in niki’s bed. as soon as you’re able to sit up, your eyes fall on the clock on the bedside table.

11 am. niki must be at school still, you note.

you wonder what he’s up to, if he was being a good student while you were stuck all alone at his home, skipping your own school. you wonder what life is like back at home. did time even pass?

niki heads home as soon as the bell rings. he wanted to see you, to comfort you and reassure you. he wanted you to be okay.

when he knocks on his own bedroom door and there’s no response, he frowns. all there’s left is a pink sticky note on his desk.

went out for fresh air. don’t worry and don’t look for me.

niki immediately drops his stuff and runs out. he goes to the train station, the bookstore. he even goes back to school, for crying out loud.

he’s breathless and exhausted by the time he’s arrived back home. niki knows his family won’t be back. it was competition season, which meant the busiest time of the year for the other dancers. you were the sole reason he attended school at this time of the year, studying hard instead of skipping and dancing 18 hours each day.

he’s scared.

niki hasn’t felt this feeling in a long time—he can only recall the time where he was six and went to disney world. his older sister was pressuring him into riding one of the larger roller coasters, and he felt that sickening nausea fill him as he looked up at the towering structure.

he almost gives up. he basically has, until he notices something strange. his balcony door is unlocked, and he always kept it locked for safety purposes.

tense, niki reaches out and slowly turns the handle. what greets him is certainly not what he expected.

you sit on the balcony railing, hanging over the edge quite precariously with your feet swinging. one slight mistake and you would fall.

you stare down at the passing cars, cloudy and dreary skies showing you it was soon to rain.

niki stares at you, and you turn around at the sound of the door to stare back, not a single word exchanged.

then you finally break the eye contact, glancing down at your stilled feet. “i wasn’t going to do it.”

he silently moves closer, hopping next to you on the railing as well. “okay.”

you don’t see the tender way his eyes travel over you. your voice is quiet as you speak up, “you don’t have to say anything.”

“okay,” niki repeats.

it’s not said in a sarcastic way. it’s not sad, either. it’s just..... soft. soft and understanding enough to make a blanket of comfort fall around you, to make it known that niki’s presence is here by your side.

suddenly, the rains starts and niki asks if you want to go down. you slowly nod and he helps you safely off the railing before opening the door for you guys go out in the rain.

the rain doesn’t stop.

and niki doesn’t stop either. he grabs your hand, dragging you along with him haphazardly.

“where are we going?” you ask breathlessly.

“out. like most people our age. we’re still kids.”

“wow, i had no idea,” you mutter sarcastically.

he holds back a smile of relief. good to know you were still your usual self.

“you need a break. you’ve been so caught up in this case, you need to rest.”

“but-“

“come on,” he leads you on, “relax. it’ll give you a clear mind, so we can come back with a fresh start.”

you’re hesitant until he pulls up at an arcade. “what if someone sees me? what if they-“

niki places a finger over your lips, silencing you. “we’re here to have fun like everyone else and not give a crap about anything else. now, are you gonna play or are you gonna get your butt kicked by me?”

a challenge was a challenge.

you laugh at niki’s rambunctious side, yelling as he tries to cheat during competitive games and fight over the better toy gun.

“just so you know, i technically won.”

you playfully shove him, “in your dreams. you’re just saying that because you don’t want to-“

you get cut off by the loudest (and most embarrassing) grumble of your stomach. you both look down at your stomach. you look back up, petrified.

niki almost cackles, “i guess that’s a sign.”

“it’s not my fault i fell asleep before eating yesterday,” you pout.

“what do you want to eat?”

“anything. i’m serious.”

niki watches with a fond smile as you quite literally inhale your food.

“eat any faster, and you’ll make a new record.”

you flip him off as he laughs, putting more food onto your plate from his. you can only watch wordlessly, feeling your heart warm. after you finish eating, niki takes your hand again. you glance at him questioningly.

“there’s one last thing i wanted to do,” he mumbles while avoiding your gaze.

“how’s this one?”

you scrunch your nose in distaste at the sight, reaching to place red devil horns on niki’s head.

“i think this one fits you more.”

as he grumbles, you laugh.

“fine, but i get to choose yours.”

he ends up picking a frog headband for you—which you complain to no avail. his reasoning was, “you remind me of a frog. like the princess and the frog.”

you splutter, “but that means-“

“yes. i’m the princess.”

“obviously,” he adds.

in the photo booth, you sit awkwardly. niki cocks an eyebrow.

“i’ve never done this before, so…"

instead of teasing you like you originally assumed, niki only brings you closer. he wraps an arm around you while posing for the camera. you’re frozen, even as the countdown starts. you can barely manage a smile as the camera flashes.

“what now?”

niki glances at the screen, “we still have three more pictures. what poses do you want to do?”

you’re at a loss for words.

niki leans closer again. he makes a half heart with his hand as he looks at you expectantly. “how about a heart pose?”

“o-okay.”

you never felt so suffocated in that photo booth. and yet, you’ve never laughed harder. you’ve never been so happy in your life with someone else.

“hey, this photo came out good!”

“but what happened to the first one?”

you both lean in to get a closer look at the photos that printed, and you end up feeling niki’s breath on your cheek.

it was warm. it was nice to have someone so close to you and still feel comfortable. it was nice to know you were close enough to someone to feel that way.

it was something you had never felt before.

“..-y/n?”

“huh?” you snap out of your trance.

“i said, you can keep this copy.”

you look at the pictures and then at niki. “what? no, it’s fine-“

“i said keep it,” he forcefully shoves the photo into your hand as he quickly heads over to the cashier to pay.

you stand there for a minute, looking at the photos. you guys looked happy. you guys looked good…together. like you were a real couple, or something. you internally chide yourself while taking off your headband. what a silly thought, you brush off.

on the walk back home, you feel utterly satisfied, humming as you match your pace with niki’s.

“when we arrive, i’ll let you in through the back, just to be safe.”

“whatever you say, mr. responsible.”

he ruffles your hair and you swat his hand away in annoyance.

that night was the first night you’ve felt content. almost like you could stay here—like you belonged. you stare up at the dark ceiling, reflecting on the days events.

“niki?”

you hear his bed shift. “yeah?”

“i just wanted to say thanks. for everything. you’ve been providing everything for me, all while helping me on my case. i’m grateful for everything. i don’t know how, but i promise to pay you back one day.”

“what’s with the sudden sappiness?” his tone is teasing, but light. he clears his throat to add, “but yeah, of course.”

“i dunno, i guess i’m just not used to this type of treatment back home.”

“what? what do you mean?”

even in the dark, you can feel inquisitive stare on you.

“i mean, i’m usually left on my own since my parents are working. and my friends, well, they’re nice and all…”

“but you don’t feel a true connection?” he finishes, and you roll over.

“yeah. i don’t really know what my friends are like in this world. who even are my friends? do i even have any?”

niki grimaces.

“uh, yeah. i don’t know if they exist in your world, but have you heard of danielle? and haerin?”

“nope. what are they like?”

he shifts again, and the bed creaks. “you see, i don’t really talk to your friend group. it’s nothing personal, i just don’t want to associate with them.”

“dang, maybe it really is just a me problem, in every life too.”

you hadn’t thought about hanni and hyein since you got here. but danielle and haerin were two new leads. a new start, perhaps.

now that you had more information from niki, you started your research again. specifically, insta-stalking.

your specialty.

niki hands you his phone with a suspicious look when you casually ask for it. you pray he doesn’t hear the sound of blood rushing in your ears or the pounding of your heart.

as he goes to do his night time routine, you quickly tap on the instagram app and search up danielle’s name. it doesn’t take long for you to find her account since niki followed her. checking to make sure he didn’t come out of the bathroom, you scroll through her feed.

and your heart stops when you see it. in the corner of a photo—a picture of her and haerin posing at school in front of their lockers.

that’s your ridiculously expensive bracelet on danielle’s arm. you’re sure of it.

you felt yourself grow nauseous as you quickly turn off niki’s phone as soon as you hear the door turn.

“hey, are you okay? you look like you just saw a ghost..”

you blink and smile, peeking at him innocently, although the dread grows in the pit of your stomach. “huh? no. what are you talking about?”

“what were you doing on my phone?”

you look away sheepishly, “trying to see if i could call my mom?” maybe niki’s acting skills were rubbing off on you.

“oh, and?”

you shake your head, a fake grim expression plastered on your face.

that night, you lay awake staring into the darkness. when you hear niki’s soft snores, you sneak over to his bedside table to retrieve the key. you know you shouldn’t, but you felt this was something you needed to do alone.

you feel like you’re on the edge of the cliff, about to jump into the water. the adrenaline filled you, you were right there-

it was so close.

the next day, you have to pretend everything is okay. you smile when niki greets you good morning, even peck him on the cheek when he tells you he has to stop by the dance studio for the night.

he visibly blushes, stuttering on his words, “w-uh, w-what was that.. for..?”

you shrug, “i’m just proud of you for getting your grades up. it’s your first time back dancing in a while so have fun, okay?”

he nods, beaming as he squeezes your hand goodbye. as he leaves, your smile fades. it felt too normal. it felt too right to imagine having a life with niki, like this everyday.

and knowing what you knew now, it was wrong. it was wrong from the start, and yet you couldn't help yourself fall even deeper. you had to get back into the right mental state. you couldn't keep deluding yourself.

it was time to confront the truth.

you can’t believe you’re sneaking into through the school boy’s bathroom again. the locker key safely stored in your pocket, you find danielle’s locker. the same one from the photo she posted.

this had to be the one. you can only hold your breath and hope as you unlock it.

you quickly scramble through all the stuff, looking for the shiny bracelet. you don’t find it, but when you go to close the locker door in defeat, a crumpled up piece of paper falls onto the floor.

you huff, taking it and opening it up. it’s a picture of sunghoon, you, and danielle, all smiling as you three posed for the camera. but it wasn’t just an ordinary picture—there was a big, red “X” scribbled over your face, with the words “finally done” written next to it.

and hearts next to sunghoon’s face.

horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth.

during a break at the dance studio, niki doesn’t expect to open his instagram app and see danielle’s instagram show up on his recently searched. frowning, he taps on the account. he never cared to pay attention to danielle, so why was her account the last thing searched up?

just out of curiosity, he scrolls through her recent posts.

and then he sees it. something that is so hard to miss. it’s so strikingly familiar.

he rushes home. when niki bursts through the front door, he doesn’t expect to find you missing. and when niki notices his old school uniform and cap gone, his heart drops.

you sit on the floor next to the lockers with your head buried on top of your knees. you’re sure you could get caught, but you don’t care.

the crumpled picture feels heavy in your pocket.

you stay there, staring at the walls until you see the moon shining brightly outside one of the windows. you haven’t eaten or drank anything the whole day. you’re not sure how long it’s been.

“y/n!”

great, now you were hearing things as well?

furious footsteps stomp towards you.

“why did you leave without telling me? you could’ve gotten caught-it could’ve been dangerous?!”

“n-niki?” your eyes widen.

before saying anything else, he pulls you up to your feet.

“why would you come to school without me?”

for some reason, his words sting. you cross your arms, “what? like i can’t take care of myself?”

he groans, “that’s besides the point! if someone saw you—“

“i don’t care! so why do you care so—“

a sound from down the hall cuts you both off. you turn to niki in panic and he curses. “the custodian comes on weekends to clean.”

you hold back a yelp as niki grabs your wrist and pulls you along in the opposite direction.

he pushes through a door and turns to the left. you don’t stop until you’re inside the.. natatorium?

“why are we-“

“there are no cameras here, unlike in the school building. i thought you would’ve known that.”

after he speaks, there’s an awkward silence.

niki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “well, are you gonna tell me?”

you feel the frustration flow through your veins, “and what about you? you tell me why i have to let you know my every location? why i feel like i can’t take care of myself, l-like a sick, old dog who can’t go anywhere or do anything? i’m sick of it all!”

“you don’t understand,” his voice raises, and you interrupt him, getting closer and closer to him.

“you’re right, i don’t. i don’t understand why you helped me in the first place. you say that you barely knew who i was, yet here you are acting like you care! like you cared about the dead me!”

at this point, his face is so close to yours, you can feel your breaths mix as neither of you back down.

“i do care! of course i care! about you, standing right in front of me!” he clenches his fists. your eyes linger on a single vein on his neck that sticks out due to the intensity. the fire burning in his eyes, your trembling voices, it all makes you falter.

you don’t know what you asked. you know the truth. niki always cared—more than cared. he always went out of his way to search for you, like the day on the balcony and today. he wanted to find you, he wanted to have you in his life,

you realize it now. to put simply, he wanted you.

and this was the first time you felt wanted.

you don’t know what else to do, so you lean in and close the gap to kiss him. and if anything, niki immediately pulls you closer to him.

when you break apart for air, his dark eyes still staring deep into yours, you think he’s gonna lean back in again. but you hear a faint voice sound, growing louder. your eyes both widen. the janitor.

without a second thought, niki pushes you.

he does it lightly, although it’s still enough to make you lose your balance, and for a second you stare back at him, betrayal evident before you fall backwards—

straight into the pool.

your eyes just barely peek open in the water, and then there’s a splash accompanying yours a few seconds later.

he easily swims to you, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his once more. it was a much different experience from just a few seconds ago.

you stay entwined like that together, eyes squeezed shut, until you actually can’t breathe anymore and you have to smack niki’s arm. you both rise to the top, heaving water and air.

after a few seconds of coughing and gathering your bearings, niki’s raspy voice fills the air.

“at least he’s gone. i’ve always wanted to do that.”

you roll your eyes, splashing water back at him in revenge for pushing you earlier. “seriously? after we got almost got caught? we could’ve drowned!”

you splash him again, “also, you could’ve given me a heads up!”

he grins, wiping the running water free from his face. “and where’s the fun in that?”

you shake your head in amazement, “you’re actually an idiot. i can’t believe you, niki.”

“an idiot who saved us from getting caught.”

after returning home together, you sit and enjoy the peaceful silence as niki dries your hair. your mind can’t help but replay the last few moments, from finding the picture at school to kissing niki, and then finally get pushed into the pool. specifically, the kissing part.

growing sleepy at the soft and warm feeling of niki’s hands running through your hair, you almost don’t hear him when he says, “all done.”

you thank him and he looks around awkwardly.

“what is it?” you squint at him.

“well, i wanted to apologize. i didn’t mean to make to feel that way. i was just really worried about you, and i felt hurt you didn’t tell me why you snuck into school again today. did you not trust me? did i do something wrong?”

you soften, eyes falling to the floor.

“i’m so sorry, niki. i didn’t mean to lash out on you. of course i trust you, i just wanted to do something for myself for once. without needing your or anyone else’s help.”

you exhale, “the reason i left today was for this—“ you take the damp, crumpled picture and unfold it as best as you can.

niki’s hands fall to his side. “oh god.”

“it was danielle. she took my bracelet and i-i think she wanted my boyfriend. i know it has to be her.”

“w-what? but how?”

you shake your head. he goes to hug you.

you feel tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, but you won’t waste any tears on her. you pull back to look at niki, with a determined expression on your face.

“you have to catch her and make sure they get what they deserve.”

niki stares at you deeply, “are you sure? because if you are, i won’t stop.”

he wonders why you say you and not we.

at that, you falter.

“no. i never be sure because she is—was my best friend and i will always hold that guilt in me. but you have to do something about it.”

niki’s hold around you tightens, “and what about you?”

you smile, albeit sadly. “you know i can’t stay here, hiding away forever. i don’t belong here. i already existed in your world, and at some point, i have to leave soon. i can feel it.”

it was the same feeling as when you first came here. that day you felt off. the feeling that you don’t belong anywhere, but this time, you feel fulfilled. complete. like you were ready to go back home.

“it’s not something i can explain, but i know it,” you look at him with determined eyes.

and he looks back at you with pained ones.

niki is able to convince jungwon to get his dad to reinvestigate the case again. the picture is given up as evidence, and danielle and haerin are taken in.

the day they confessed out of guilt, you and niki celebrate by sneaking onto your school’s rooftop. the same place where it all started.

it’s a cold and windy night, but you could care less about getting sick. because it was your last day anyway.

you didn’t tell niki, but you had a good feeling—like the world was patting you on the back and saying, “you worked hard.”

the two of you watch the stars, snuggled up and reflecting on how your lives came to be like this. wondering how far away apart your worlds were.

you kiss niki’s cheek, wishing to remember the feeling of being in his arms forever. his scent, his touch, his warmth, you wish you could keep all of it. you smile at him, willing back the tears.

“there was a reason i bumped into you that day, of all people. there was a reason you came into my life, and i came into yours, niki.”

he bites his lip, “y/n... you changed my life. every day with you was better than the last.”

if this was a dream, you wouldn’t want to wake up. you trace his face, so it will remain ingrained in your mind forever, even when you go back to your world.

“what will happen when i leave?” you whisper.

“how will you even get back home?”

you shrug, “i don’t know how, but i know that i will.”

niki laughs, “that’s the y/n i know.”

as he kisses you once more, a star falls across the sky.

the next day, you find a ticket in your bag. a train ticket.

you don’t recall having bought one, and you don’t question niki. you only ask him to take you to the train station.

while walking hand and hand, you reminisce on the past month or so. “will we still remember this once you go back to your world?”

your body trembles, “i don’t know.”

“then… will i ever see you again?”

you don’t want to meet his eyes, because you know you’ll cry.

yes, you want to say. instead, you say, “ i don’t know.”

niki wipes a stray tear on your face. you don’t even know how you reached your stop already.

“this is it,” he says.

but neither of you move.

“don’t worry, even if i don’t remember you, you’ll always be in my heart. we’ll meet in your world,” he reminds you while the tears start falling down both of your faces.

“don’t forget that there’s another me out there to annoy you. you just need to search hard.”

you sniffle, playfully pushing him away as you furiously blink away the tears that blur your vision. you needed to soak up the sight of him as much of him as you could.

“i promise i’ll find you again.”

he holds onto you until the very end, until you slip out of his grasp once more.

crossing the platform into the train while giving him one last, slow wave was painful. the last thing you can think of is the fact that you never knew. you never asked for niki’s full name. his real one.

you never knew niki’s name.

and then everything fades into nothing.

that’s the last time niki ever sees you. the train passes by in a flash, blowing his bangs across his face while he tries his best to keep that fake smile on his face for you—all for you before you go.

then, you’re gone.

in those seconds as the train passes, niki knows exactly why he did it. why he helped you through all of it, through everything together.

all because you were there in class. you never looked at him, but he looked at you. he saw all of you, everyday—even if you didn’t know it. all your quirks and habits that he couldn’t help but find cute. you made his days interesting.

but he was the coward for never approaching you. that was his fault because one day, you weren’t there anymore.

and he had to pretend like nothing happened. on the outside, that’s how it was. even if he felt the slightest connection, tiniest pull towards you, you were still strangers.

you were strangers until you knocked into him on the train platform.

niki had to be selfish. he thinks it could have been fate that he saw you again, but now he’s just left with the lingering regret and feelings. those memories flash past like the train does. they come and go in the blink of an eye- a split second.

when the train is gone, niki frowns and wonders why he’s standing there.

he also wonders why it feels like there’s a piece of his heart missing.

after that, he attends your funeral in his world. it was an open funeral to everyone who wanted to come- classmates, friends, and him. niki didn’t even know you that well, but he get this unexpalaniable urge that he should go- he needs to go. he brings flowers and gets to see you one last time.

when niki sees the picture of your serene face, he can’t help but get this sense of peace, like everything’s resolved.

and then he’s free.

epilogue...

you sigh, trudging along the walkway on the way to work. looking at your surroundings, you were getting major deja vu. but at this point, you were used to having episodes like that.

there were many, many times where some things simply felt so familiar. but it was like your memory was wiped and you couldn’t remember why. some times you had flashes of an adventure, a feeling of mystery, a boy.

ever since some day in high school, it just happened. and from then on, you’ve always felt like something was missing. or wrong. you can’t tell. it became a part of you, to the point where you almost forgot about it. that feeling of misbelonging, being just out of reach. it’s strange, like a weird occurrence that makes you want to open your third eye or whatever to find out more.

even after graduating, it never left you.

you being so lost in your thoughts, fail to notice when you bump into someone coming off the train you were about to get onto.

“i’m sorry,” you quickly apologize, but you soon falter when you meet eyes with sparkling brown ones. weirdly enough, they draw you in.

they were familiar, you’ve certainly seen them somewhere. the moment lasts for a while, with the two of you standing still in the middle of the passway, staring at each other.

you slowly smile, extending a hand. “i apologize if i’m mistaken, but have we met before?”

he stares at you too, confused yet enthralled.

“i-i think you may be mistaken,” he starts hesitantly and you begin to apologize.

“are you sure?“ you quickly introduce yourself, “and you?”

you swore you were not such a desperate person, but you couldn’t help it, not this time and definitely not in front of this particularly alluring guy.

“me?”

he takes a quick glance at you before taking your hand with a small smile.

“my name is nishimura riki.”

first i wanted to say thank you for reading! this was a rough time coming, and i wanted to apologize for the long wait. this has actually been a wip of mine for years and i finally was able to finish it with riki after months and months of writing. this past year has been the worst one so far, but i'm just grateful to still be here. just feeling super appreciative for those who stuck with me and waited patiently. thank you. can't wait to see you guys again soon with the next oneshot (hint hint)!

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#enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki fluff #niki imagines #niki scenarios #nishimura riki x you #nishimura riki x reader #enhypen au

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toxicanonymity · 10 months

Text

needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel master list

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prequel), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6), but can read alone.

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous. He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it. He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable.

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you. Of course it would.

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too. He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun.

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you.

“Can I see it?” you ask.

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?”

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate. “Can ya gimme a second, honey?”

“Okay.” He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away. “Now?”

“No. Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make.

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it’s not how you wanna see it.”

“Why?"

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer.

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.”

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.”

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs.

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper.

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions.

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly. Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad. If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop.

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway.

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like. Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit.

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft.

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach. You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste.

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily.

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips. He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch.

Then, your lips wrap around the head. He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”

You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more.

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating.

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs.

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees. In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel.

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum. It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.”

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your teeth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop.

“Good girl,” he sighs and cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need. You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it. You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief. He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on. But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it. “Good girl, that’s real good, honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away. Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body. He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep.

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change.

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair.

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all."

"I know."

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all.

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs.

"You want a hand?"

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass. "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?"

You're quiet.

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.”

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit.

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.”

“Okay.” You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down.

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats.

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact. He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah,"

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs."

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit.

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper.

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip.

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.” You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you.

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.”

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say.

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that.

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper. You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good.

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time.

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes. His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty.

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer. He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.” You turn around and face him. “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath. He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.” He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod. He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. There's a virgin section on my joel master list right above the one shots. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

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freedomfireflies · 7 months

Text

Whiplash*

Summary: The second part to Knockout*

The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.

Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner.

You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.

You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.

You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.

But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.

So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.

You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.

It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.

Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.

3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.

You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.

There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them.

So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.

With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.

The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.

“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”

The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.

You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.

With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”

“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”

“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”

Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”

You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”

“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”

You feel your throat constrict. “What?”

His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin.

“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.

“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”

The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”

You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"

“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”

And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.

You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”

His brows pinch together. “What?”

“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”

His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”

You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.

“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”

Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”

“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”

He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”

“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”

There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”

I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.

“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”

“No.”

“What?”

He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”

“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”

He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.

“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”

He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.

He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park.

Like a real couple.

You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.

You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances.

Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.

The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor.

He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.

He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.

You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.

He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.

And you can’t help but let him.

“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”

He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.

He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”

You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”

Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.

There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.

After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.

“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.

“What?”

“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”

A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”

He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.

Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.

But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him.

“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally.

His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”

He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”

A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”

You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”

The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.

You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.

But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.

His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage.

You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”

However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.

“Harry…” you say again.

He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”

You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.

He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.

You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”

His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”

You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”

To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”

You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”

“Mm. I’m counting on it.”

Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.

He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.

“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”

You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”

“You’re not. Could never.”

“Hope you’re right.”

You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.

“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”

You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”

“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”

“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”

“I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.

He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”

His eyes remain on you.

“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”

“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”

You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”

His brows furrow together almost sternly.

“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”

There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”

You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”

“My turn?”

You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”

He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question.

“I don’t know.”

You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”

He hesitates. “Cher—”

“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.

“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”

And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”

You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.

“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”

You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince.

“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”

Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”

“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.

It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”

You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.

“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”

You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath.

But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”

You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.

He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

You have been ever since.

“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”

Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”

He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”

“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”

The silence is deafening.

His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”

It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.

You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.

But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.

“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”

The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.

“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.

“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”

You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.

Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.

“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”

“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”

You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”

“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”

He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one.

Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.

“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”

And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you.

You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.

And that’s when you realize.

“Does pain turn you on?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.

Your head spins. “Really?”

Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”

Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.

“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”

The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.

Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”

You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”

“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”

You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”

“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”

You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”

His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.

“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”

You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”

But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”

You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.

And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.

So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”

The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.

“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”

He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”

And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”

“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”

You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.

In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”

And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.

“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”

“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”

“Harry—”

“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”

He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.

And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.

“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”

The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”

You hesitate. “What?”

“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”

You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”

“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”

And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…

“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”

“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”

There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”

His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”

And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.

“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”

But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…

“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.

“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”

You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”

“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”

And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”

And you have no choice but to oblige.

You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.

He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.

“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”

“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”

He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”

“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”

“Yes.”

He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”

You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.

He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.

He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”

You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”

He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.

With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”

“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”

“But—”

“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”

You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”

And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”

You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”

You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.

“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”

You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.

You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.

But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”

When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”

“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”

This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.

He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.

His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.

“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod quickly.

“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”

“Yes…yes, Har, please—”

“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”

You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.

He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.

Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.

You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.

Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it.

The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore.

You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.

The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.

Then, he swallows you down.

“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you.

He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.

You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”

He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.

He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.

You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.

Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.

“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”

It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.

It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.

He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time.

The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.

“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”

“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”

And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.

You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.

The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement:

“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”

You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.

But all you really feel…is him.

“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”

You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.

“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”

He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”

“What? What do you need?”

Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer.

“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”

He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.

“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”

He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.

“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”

He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.

“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”

He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.

“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”

Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.

“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”

You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement.

“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”

Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.

He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”

You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”

“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”

What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”

“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”

You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”

“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”

You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”

“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”

An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good.

There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.

You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.

“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”

The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward.

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”

“Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”

“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”

You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy.

“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”

“Harry—”

“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”

The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.

“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.

He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”

You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise.

But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.

He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe.

“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”

“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”

Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.

During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.

You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…

You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy.

Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”

You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow.

His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”

You smile. “Always.”

“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”

He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.

But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.

“Mm?”

“…did you cum?”

He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”

“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"

“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”

You glance up, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”

The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.

He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.

“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”

You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”

A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”

You nod.

“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly.

“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”

“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”

You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.

You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you.

You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.

By the time you wake, it’s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before.

But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.

You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”

After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.

He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.

Which to your surprise, it is.

Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.

It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.

And you grin the whole way there.

It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.

Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.

“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.

You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all.

If he’d want you to.

A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.

Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.

Which you can only hope will be soon.

He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.

But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.

Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.

And that’s when you see him.

“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”

“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once.

Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.

But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.

“I see you finally found my girl.”

EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN

Next Part:

~ Reckless*

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~ Knockout*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

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undercoverpena · 1 month

Text

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

childhood besties!javi x f!reader

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)

warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

#javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javi peña smut #narcos x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier peña fanfic

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thebearer · 27 days

Note

please please please need a part two of the fight blurb 😭 what happens next 😭😭😭

should i make it into a full fic omg?? maybe?? lol

but on the real, i think that he would have to take a leave from the restaurant, which truthfully, everyone needed. this is just what broke him. the one time he actually tries to deal with his shit and not just blow up, get embarrassed, try to make it up, and repeat the cycle with no real change. i mean, you took his babies? anchovy and teddy. you're not returning his calls. richie, fak, and sweeps are alternating wellness check watches because they're terrified he's going to hurt himself, especially after the way he spiraled when he found your wedding ring.

he knows where you're at. he managed to become technologically savvy all of a sudden and figured out how to see your location, that you shared with him when you first started dating. fak wouldn't let him take his car. richie had put him on a full blown "psych ward type shit" lockdown until he "got his shit together, cousin".

"richie said-"

"-richie's a fuckin' moron, give me my fucking keys, fak!"

"carmen," fak frowns. "i-i can't."

so carmen walked. he walked to sugar and pete's house. nearly an hour walk through chicago. smoking so much he felt sick.

pete answered the door, face falling as soon as he saw carmen.

"carm, h-hey, man-"

"-where is she?" carmen wasn't interested on any sort of small talk, tunnel visioned to get to you.

"uh, i-i don't-"

"-pete, i really don't want you to fuck with me right now, alright." carmen took a deep breath, throat burning with tears. "i need to see- i-i need to see her pete." he couldn't bring himself to even say your name.

a tiny meow came from behind pete, anchovy skippering towards carmen with bright eyes, tail raised. it made carmen's jaw clench, tears blurring his vision. he knew you had to be close by. looking at the time, you were probably feeding teddy, maybe putting her down for a nap. he should have been more considerate, came later in the day, carmen thought.

pete looked at the cat, down the hall, then back at carmen. "carm..." pete hesitated, gripping the door, letting it shut gently, shielding something behind him. "you know i can't."

"what the fuck? pete that's- just let me in." anger surged through carmen's chest, trying to swallow it down. all he'd been was angry. angry and sick and distraught, a never ending cycle for weeks, just amplified by your leaving.

"you want to get her back? quit actin' like a goddam baby." richie sneered one night, just days ago, when carmen was especially awful and mean. "quit actin' like this isn't your fuckin' fault. like you didn't do this to yourself. take some fuckin' accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin' shit together. and maybe-maybe you'll get your family back."

carmen turned, running a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. keep himself from crying, from screaming, from pushing pete down and running back there so he could see you himself- throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

"pete, please? please?" carmen's voice wobbled, breaking gently. "please l-let me talk to her. just let me- let me tell her i'm sorry. don't-"

"-carmen?" sugar's voice came from behind pete. her face dropped, different than pete's, her's was angry. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"why do you think i'm here, natalie? huh?-"

"-oh, you've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here." natalie sneered, pulling the door open and stepping out. "pete, go inside."

"nat-"

"-i got it." natalie hissed, eyes narrowing at carmen. she waited until pete left, shaking her head at him. "you should be fucking ashamed-"

"-i am-"

"-mortified." sugar continued. "do you know what i came home to the other night? i came home to pete taking care of your baby because your wife came here sobbing- sobbing, because you screamed at her? what the fuck is wrong with you? huh?"

"i don't know." carmen's voice was tight, fighting a tremble. "i-i don't fuckin' know. i didn't- i-i didn't mean-" a tear fell, the final crack in his demeanor. carmen wasn't sure how he had tears left, how he could sob anymore. yet here he was, on his sister's porch, tears flowing again.

sugar didn't comfort him, didn't move, just watched him through glaring eyes. "please let me s-see her. let me se-ee teddy, sugar, don't-don't keep my kid from me-"

"-i'm not keeping your kid from you." sugar snapped. "i didn't take teddy away. you know who did? you. you did carmen."

carmen flinched, he knew it was true but it still stung. "i know you don't remember dad very well, but you're acting just like him." sugar sneered.

"and before you try and come up with an excuse-"

"-i-i'm not-"

"-i want you to know, that every day. every single fucking day, there's days i want to drink myself to sleep. that mj or maggie make me want to pull my hair out and scream, or pete does something that infuriates me, but you know what i don't do?" sugar stepped towards carmen, arms still crosses. "i don't yell at them, i don't drink myself incoherent, i don't fucking act like mom or dad because i know how that felt." sugar jabbed a finger in her chest, eyes holding carmen's gaze intensely.

"i know how that fucked me up, i know how it fucked them up, how it fucked you and mikey up too- how it fucked everything in our fucking life up!" natalie laughed humorlessly. "and the last thing, the very last thing i would want, is to do that to pete, to my kids, to anyone."

carmen felt sick and yet eerily calm all at once. his chest was tight, he was sure he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop listening. a damning realization- a shameful one.

"you need to make up your mind, right here, right now, before you see anyone else." natalie stepped back towards the door. "you need to decide if you're going to continue to be a selfish piece of shit, or if you're going to change. and i can tell you, change is uncomfortable- it's not easy. you have to fight for it every single day. but i would rather do that than not have my family."

she looked down at carmen, twisting the knob. "you decide that, then maybe- maybe you can see them." carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, not moving from his place on the porch, head in his hands.

fak showed up nearly an hour later, wide eyed and rambling about "how the fuck did you just leave? i was playing ball buster and-and then you're gone-"

carmen ignores him, sliding into the car slowly. "carmen?"

"you uh," carmen's voice is hoarse, staring straight ahead. "you said that, uh, that richie's got.... got someone for me to talk to?"

fak blinks, nodding slowly. "the therapist? yeah-"

"-take me there." carmen looks over at sugar's house. he isn't sure if it's his imagination or not, but for a moment he swears he can see you, peeking through the blinds.

"a-are you ok?" fak is worried, a little rattled at the sudden change. especially since carmen had been so adamant about not seeing "your stupid fuckin' therapist, richie, clearly she's no fuckin' good because look at you! you're still fucked up!" carmen's enraged words from days ago.

"no," carmen admits, throat swelling with a growing lump. "but, uh, i-i wanna be." he admits quietly, looking over at fak. "i gotta get my shit together, fak. i-i gotta be better for them."

fak doesn't deny it, doesn't console him. just goes quiet with a nod, driving away. carmen watches sugar's house disappear in the rearview, his heart aching, breaking, but he knows natalie is right. he knows he'll be back once he's better, that he has to be better. for teddy. for you. for your family.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #pete the bear #richie jerimovich #natalie berzatto #sugar berzatto #neil fak #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #dorothea “teddy” berzatto

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doitforbangchan · 3 months

Text

All Bark and No Bite - 14

Surprise!! Plz enjoy this early chapter as my thanks for your patience:)

please read the note at the end!!

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, threesome (mxfxm), kissing, grinding, fingering, spanking, oral (m & f receiving), subspace, public(?) sex, Dom!Chan, Sub!reader, SoftDom! Hyunjin, kinda Switch!Felix?, unbalanced power dynamic, biting/claiming, blood, cursing, pet names, crying, begging, fluff, angst

WC: 10.6 k

It was a surprise to you that Seungmin wasn’t in bed with you when you woke up, given how absurdly late you both stayed up last night. In fact he must have gotten up quite earlier than you, given his spot in bed was now cold. He was known to be an early riser but you had assumed he would sleep in at least once.

You rolled over groggily, barely able to make out the block lettering on the alarm clock beside the bed that read a glaring ‘11:56 am’.

Holy shit how did you sleep-in that late?

You shot out of bed in a hurry and clamored out of the room. You didn’t see anybody in the hall as you crept into the bathroom. After doing your business you were washing your hands when you took in your appearance. You attempted to flatten down your bed head after you splashed some water on your face. You were still in Seungmin's shirt, the garment falling to mid thigh and covering the panties you wore underneath.

You still didn’t see anyone when you went down the stairs, though you could hear humming coming from somewhere. Everyone must be partaking in a lazy sunday. You rounded a corner from the hall into the laundry room, and in your hurry ran into something. More like someone.

“Well good morning, puppy. Or should I say good afternoon.” Seungmin snickered when you ran into him.

“What are you doing?” You quizzed, steadying yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders.

“Nothing to worry your little puppy head with.” He tutted, you peaked your head up to look past him into the room and saw there were multiple piles of cleaned, and folded laundry.

“Minnie! How long have you been up? And why didn’t you wake me?” You demanded, stomping your foot.

He shrugged, his head leaning back and forth, “A couple hours maybe. And why would I wake you up? You needed your rest after I blew your back out yesterday.”

You laid a smack to his shoulder, “Don’t say it like that! You’re a heathen!” He only laughed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“Aww but you’re so funny. Yapping at me like this. Lemme handle it, just this once.” His other hand squished your cheeks together making you purse your lips. He gave you teasing kisses all over your face and to your lips.

“Minnie!” You attempted to protest through your uncontainable giggling, only half trying to push him off.

He hummed, “That’s right, say my name.” He gave you one more frisky smooch then released you. “Though, I think I preferred when you were screaming it when you were falling apart on my dick.”

You felt your face heat up and were unable to meet his eyes, so you looked down with a pout. “You shouldn’t say such things aloud.”

“Hmpf, why? It’s true. No sense in denying a fact, pup.” He pulled the collar of his shirt away, showing you the red imprints left by your teeth from the previous night. “ And from how deep this bite is, I’d say you liked it too.” He wore a proud smirk when you tentatively brought your fingers up to the wound you made on his otherwise perfect flesh. The beta let out a purr when you subconsciously leaned closer, and pressed your lips tenderly to the marred bite.

“I did like it,” you whispered when you pulled away. “What I don’t like is when one of my boys doesn’t let me do my part.”

“From my perspective you’ve done your part plenty.” he had a smirk

“You know what I mean. I need to help around the house, I need to take care of you boys. It’s literally in my nature. Please, Minnie?” You fluttered your lashes, trying to appeal to his sweet side.

He thought for a second then sighed, “Fine puppy. You win. You wanna help?” he asked as he backed up into the room. You nodded enthusiastically. “Then you can take this load up for me.” He hands you a basket full of neatly folded clothes.

You took it from his hands, “To your room?”

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head. “To Minhos.”

Seungmin swore he could see your heart literally sink.

“If it’s too much for you, I can take it to him..” He reached to take the basket back from you but you moved out of his reach.

“No, I can do it. It’s not a big deal.” You attempted to shrug in nonchalance, though you had a feeling he could see right through you. You gave him a shaky smile when he looked like he wanted to interfere. “It’s ok Minnie. Really. I’ll take it up there now.” You turned on your heel with a quickness.

He murmured something that you didn’t catch as you left the room, laundry in hand. A quiet be careful on his lips.

Your feet felt heavy as you trudged up the steps to Minhos room. Neither of you had spoken to each other since the fight you got into the day before. Coming up to his door you felt incredibly nervous, unsure if you should knock or just open it. You didn’t know if he was even in there or if he would be receptive to you if he was.

“Don’t be such a little bitch, Y/n.” You muttered, steeling your anxiety the best you could, and raising your fist slowly before giving timid knocks to the wood.

You held your breath as you listened for any sign of life, and it hitched when you heard a quiet “Come in.”

Fuck, he is in there.

You held the basket with one arm as you slowly opened the door, a quiet creek was the only thing breaking through the silence. Minho was laying on his bed, leaning against his headboard with a laptop on his lap. He lightly straightened up at seeing it was you who requested entry into his space. His cat-like eyes narrowed at you, then to the basket you held tightly in your arms.

“I uh- I have your clothes.” You stuttered lamely.

Minho gestured to his closet with his head, never taking his eyes off of you. “You can set it by the closet.” You nodded in understanding but didn’t reply. Initially the goal was to move in and out as quickly and efficiently as possible, but now that you're here in his space you found yourself taking timid apprehensive steps. Your body felt ridgid as he watched you. You would later blame it on the overwhelming tannin rich musk that permeated all around you for making you dizzy.

You were bent over setting down the basket by his wardrobe with shaky hands when he spoke again.

“Cute panties.”

You shot back up briskly and pulled your shirt down to cover you further. Somehow you had completely forgotten you didn’t have any pants on. You went to spin on your heels to hightail it out of there but you were met with his imposing figure standing directly behind you. You didn’t even sense his movement until suddenly he was right there. You put your hand on your heart in shock, a quiet gasp barely escaping.

“Why’re you so on edge?” His tone was mildly inquisitive, albeit a bit bored sounding.

You chose to ignore his question, instead asking your own “What are you doing?” You tried to keep your voice firm and you almost did if not for the small quiver in your tone. He didn’t respond, choosing to offer you a shrug before he abruptly grabbed your body and spun you back around. “Minho!”

The beta lifted his hand up to the collar of the shirt you’re wearing and yanked it down to expose your shoulder, his eyes zeroing in on the newest addition. He traced over the healing wound, feeling its ridges and divots. “This one is pretty deep. Seung has some sharp ass teeth.” He pressed lightly into the skin making you whine. “Careful omega, get enough of these and you may just make me jealous.”

Minho removed his hands and straightened your shirt out, then he spun you back around. “And why would you be jealous, Minho? You wanna take a bite outta me?”

He snorted as if amused by your taunt, “ Keep up your attitude and biting won’t be the only thing I do to you.”

You tilted your face up to try and glare at him, “You can’t scare me.”

“You wanna bet?”

There was an involuntary shiver when he repeated the menacing words he had said to you yesterday, causing him to smirk as if he had won some sort of silent battle.

“Thank you for bringing my clothes up. I think it’s time you scamper back to your rabbit hole like a good little bunny now, hm?” He patted your head and gestured his hand to the door you had previously come through. Everything about his tone was so condescending.

You just scoffed and stomped to his door, yanking it open and slamming it behind you. His laugh at your rage made you want to scream. You turned back towards his door, sticking your tongue out and flipping it off silently.

“What are you doin, baby?”

“AHH” You shrieked, quickly turning around to find Hyunjin behind you, now laughing his ass off. In fact he was laughing so hard he leaned against the wall clutching his stomach as he wheezed. His eyes crinkled and a tear threatened to fall. “Hyunjin!!”

“I’m- sorry- baby.” He said between his laughter, attempting to contain himself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah well…” You felt your face heat up as you avoided looking at him.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry, come er.” He started to feel bad about scaring you, even if it was an accident. He pushed off the wall and gathered you into his embrace. “Lemme make it better.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, his long hair getting in your face and tickling your nose. Then he slathered you in his wet smooches.

You giggled in his arms, attempting escape. “Ok ok I forgive you Jinnie.”

He stopped kissing you but didn’t let you go yet, “I was looking for you. Get ready, we’re going on a date.”

Your eyes widened and shined at the prospect, “A date?” Your voice was filled with excitement.

“Uh huh, a proper date for my girl. Wear one of those cute sundresses you have.” He kissed your lips tenderly then he let you go. “You have thirty minutes to get ready, starting….. Now!” He smacked your butt to send you into action.

You wasted no time, sprinting to your room to change your clothes. On the way you passed Chan who was exiting his office. “Woah where are you going, speed racer?”

“Gotta get ready!” You called as you continued on your path. You heard him start to follow you as you went into your room and trifled through your closet.

“Get ready for what, my love?” He leaned against the door jam as he watched in amusement as you fluttered around the room.

“Jinnie is gonna take me on a date!” You had a huge grin on your face as you compared dresses. “He said to wear one of my dresses but I have no idea what one would fit the vibe.”

“Hmmm, I say go with the white one. Makes your eyes sparkle.” He came up to sit on your bed as you held the blue one up to yourself, “Yeah that one suits you.”

“Mm, yeah you’re right it is very pretty.” You agreed, then began stripping your current pjs off.

Chans eyes met your bare chest and he let out a low groan, “ gotta warn a man before you go throwing your clothes off, makes me not wanna let you go with Hyunjin and keep you here all to myself.”

You giggled at him, “You’re cute.” You pulled your panties down and quickly pulled up a new pair. You squealed when his arms shot out and grabbed you, hauling you on top of him so you were straddling him. “Channie, I gotta get ready!”

“Hmpf, you’re breaking my heart here baby.” He threw his head back dramatically as if you had actually wounded him. “But I guess I could let you go for a while.” He acted like he was toying with the idea, his head moving side to side. “If tonight I get you all to myself, hm?”

“Promise, you can have me allllll to yourself, alpha.” You stuck your pinky out and he took it with his own, sealing your promise. “Now I seriously have to get ready, Hyunjin only gave me thirty minutes.”

“You’re six minutes late, baby.” Hyunjin was pouting when you met him outside after getting ready.

“I had like no time! What do you expect from me, I’m just a girl.” You threw your hands up comically, causing him to chuckle at your antics. It was only then you noticed the large basket and blanket he held in his arms. “Are we going on a picnic?!”

He laughed once again at your excitement. “Yeah, I thought we could take advantage of the beautiful weather.” He tucked the blanket under his arm so he could hold his hand out for you to take, which you did with no hesitation. “I know a spot not too far from the house.”

Hyunjin led you into the woods away from the house. As you got further and further away you came upon a clearing. More like a meadow, with pops of color exploding in a wild arrange of flowers that clustered the ground. It looked untouched by man, beautiful and vibrant. Like a secret hideaway.

“Oh Jinnie, it’s beautiful.” You put your hand to your heart as you admired the meadow. The way the tall grass swayed in the breeze, and the way the birds chirped excitedly was very mesmerizing.

“Yeah, it really is.” You were too busy staring at the beauty in front of you to notice Hyunjin was staring directly at you. He cleared his throat after a second, and nodded towards the field. “Lets set up around here?”

“Perfect!” You grinned, taking the blanket from him and you spread it out on the ground. It wasn’t a traditional red and white checkered one you would see in the movies; instead it was green and the print had little yellow bumble bees on it. “This is a really cute blanket, Jin.”

He blushed, setting down the basket on top of the corner before plopping himself down. “Thanks, it’s uh- it’s my go too when I come out here. It’s good for inspiration.”

“Inspiration hmm?” You inquired, sitting down beside him.

“Mhmm, for when I’m painting. This is kinda my go to spot.” He reached into the pack he brought and pulled out two small canvases along with some brushes. “I actually kinda thought we could maybe paint together? If you want to.”

“I would love to paint with you! Though I’ll warn you, mine won’t look even a fraction as good as what you’ll make.”

“Baby, don’t you know? Perfection can only make perfection.” You swooned when he leaned in to kiss you, cupping the side of your face in his big hand. You practically melted into him when he let out a purr of satisfaction. All too soon he pulled away, “ And you, my angel, are the definition of flawless.”

“You can’t say things like that.” You looked down, flustered by his sentiment. There was a distinct fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

“Why not, baby? Don’t you like it?” He was smirking, pulling paints out of the basket next then a covered platter of strawberries.

“I’m anything but perfect Hyunjin.”

“Why would you say that, y/n?” His smile dropped when he saw how serious your statement was. You looked away, trying not to meet his eyes. “Baby, hey, you can talk to me.”

You sniffled, finally meeting his gaze with a teary expression. “You all keep singing my praises, but I feel like all I’ve caused is drama and pain.” He looked like he was about to interject but you continued, “ Drama with my heat, drama with Minho, drama with Seungmin and… Felix. I know he’s hurting, Jinnie. I can feel it. A perfect person wouldn’t have let any of that happen.”

“Oh baby.” He pulled you into his arms, tucking you into his chest. “First of all, the situation with your heat was not your fault. It’s those fucking suppressants fault. Second, Min can be a dick sometimes, it’s a complex he has for not being born an alpha.” He began to pet your head. “ Thirdly, Brynn had it coming, she was a bitch and needed to be brought down to earth. And as far as Felix goes, this whole arrangement made by Chan won’t last forever. His power trip will end soon enough, it always does.”

“I try not to let it get to me, but it’s all piling up inside. There is so much guilt I don’t know what to do with it.” You wiped your eyes of the falling tears.

“I have a feeling that nothing I say is going to be necessarily helpful, but I hope you listen when I say you really are perfect, especially for our family.” Hyunjin pressed more kisses to your head. “If you have feelings you don’t know what to do with, why not try painting it out baby?”

You nodded against him, “ Is that what you do, Hyun?”

“Mmhmm, I find it really helps me get out what I can’t verbally express sometimes.”

You went to remove yourself from his lap and sat across from him, and he began to set up the painting supplies. “I’m not particularly good at art, so you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Baby you know if anyone was going to laugh at you it’s not me.” He chuckled and pat your knee. “And it’s ok if you’re not good, it’s all about expressing yourself.”

He handed you a canvas and you selected your brush, settling the canvas on your knees. You looked around for inspiration. There were a ton of different flowers you could choose from out here in the meadow. You wanted to make something cute, something meaningful.

“Ready, baby?”

You nodded with a smile, dipping your brush in the paint and beginning your masterpiece.

So maybe it wasn’t quite a ‘masterpiece’ but you did your best! It was legible and honestly, that was enough for you. Hyunjin had finished his long before you had, and had opted to admire you while you concentrated. He secretly snapped little photos of you with your eyebrows creased and your tongue poking out just slightly as you worked. It was now his new homescreen on his phone.

You placed the finishing touches on the art and held it up victoriously. “Done!” You only then noticed him lounging peacefully, done with his own. “Damn I didn’t know you were waiting on me, I’m sorry Jin.”

“Not a problem, love. I enjoyed watching my girl.” He sat back up, “ You’re cute when you concentrate on something.”

You looked down shyly, then back at him to see him grinning at how adorable he thought you were. “Just show me what you made.” You mumbled, changing the subject.

He laughed, “You got it, baby.” He grabbed his now almost dry painting, turning it around for you to see it. He had done a beautiful rendition of the meadow you sat in. It was literally picture perfect. It could have been a carbon copy.

“Wow Jinnie, that is incredible!” You leaned closer to look at the details. “How did you accomplish this much in such a short amount of time?!” You were bewildered.

He shrugged, “Eh I come out here a lot. Now show me what you made!”

“Remember, you promised not to laugh.” You pointed an accusatory finger at him, and he dramatically crossed his heart. “Ok, here it is.” You turned your canvas around to reveal what you had created.

It was a picture of a Bee, sitting in a bright purple flower. You had attempted to make a tulip but it came out looking more like a generic flower and the bee looked more like a yellow and black blob.

“Aww baby! It’s so cute!!” He gushed, eyes roaming the picture. “It’s a bee in a flower right?”

“Yeah,” You beamed, happy he knew what it was. “ I wanted to make something fitting for our time out here.” You gestured down to his bee blanket you both sat upon.

“You are too precious, love. I’m gonna hang this up in the living room for all to see!” He reached for your art but you pulled away with a giggle.

“It’s not that good Hyune, not nearly as good as yours. That's the one we should be hanging up, not this silly thing.”

“The only silly thing is your attitude. I know a masterpiece when I see one and this gem is top notch.” It was cute how he tried to hype you up. “Now give it here.”

He lunged for you suddenly, and since you weren’t expecting the ambush it caused you to drop your freshly painted canvas… face side down onto your white dress. You gasped when it fell from your hands onto the front of your dress. “Ahh no!”

“Shit! Baby, I'm sorry!” In his panic he dragged the painting down the front of you when he tried to move himself away, the bright colors smearing across the dress. “Fuck I’m making it worse!”

You looked down at the damage, seeing an array of shaded mixing onto the fabric.

“Hyunjin….” You were too calm for his comfort. He was expecting you to cry. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to wear this dress…” He missed the slow creep of your hand and the way it dipped into the blue paint that was still out.

“I know! First thing when we get back home I’ll scrub it out!” He grabbed a napkin and furiously began to wipe at the stain, deepening it instead.

“Actually, I have a better idea of how you can make it up to me.” You had an evil tone in your voice that made him look up at your face, just as you brought your hand up to smear the blue paint across his cheek.

He gasped and pulled away briskly, his eyes wide in shock at your actions.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his shocked expression. “Now we’re even. You look good in blue, Jinnie.”

“So that’s the game we’re playing, huh baby?”

“What?” You asked but were cut off when he flung the still dirty paintbrush at you, yellow paint getting on your arm. “Hyunjin!”

“Don’t dish it if you can't take it!” His laugh was cut off when you grabbed the bottle of red and squirted him with it, the color getting all over his shirt. He retaliated by wiping his hands through the mess on his shirt and lunging for you again, red hands wiping all over your sides.

You attempted to dive out of the way with a squeal, but only ended up laying on the other colors causing them to spill and cover yourself in them. Your hands lathered themselves in the offending paints and you rubbed them on as much of Hyunjin as you could reach.

The whole time both of you were laughing and shrieking as you were both getting covered in the substance. Somehow you got under him completely, and he caged you in. Your thighs were spread and he laid between them. His hair was dripping in purple paint, the color falling into your own hair. You could only imagine how insane you both looked.

“You are a little menace, aren't you?” Hyunjin was catching his breath from laughing so hard.

“You started it!” You protested, swiping his nose again.

He looked down between your bodies, “And now I’m gonna finish it. Looks like we only have one spot left to paint on you, doll.” He giggled and leaned down, capturing your lips with his own. You immediately threw your hands up to his shoulders, pulling him in closer. He let some of his weight fall on you gently, and rolled his hips into your core.

You whimpered against his mouth, and the sound spurred him on to do it again. Hyunjin's body rolled into you a little harsher, relishing in the sounds of enthusiasm that left you in return. You could feel his bulge growing in his pants as he teased it against your clothed core. “Jinnie. Want you.”

He nibbled on your bottom lip for a second, then licked the skin. “Oh yeah, Baby? You missed your Jinnie?”

“Mhm. Missed the way you feel in me.” You couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, the truth in them just spilling out.

“Fuck, gorgeous. The other boys are corrupting you. Turning you all dirty. You don’t even care we’re out here in the open.” His hands moved down to grip your thighs, his hot palms parting them even further as he ground down. “Turns me on so much.”

You were getting wetter by the second, your body reacting to him immensely. You let your hips buck into him as you searched for more friction. “Been too long without you, Jinnie.”

“Mm I know, omega.” He cooed, his fingers sliding up the sides of your thighs and to the hem of your panties. “Been waiting for you too, my love.” He pulled them down your thighs, exposing your glistening center to the outside air. “I can’t use my fingers on you since they are covered in paint. Do you think you could take me without me stretching you out, baby?”

You nodded rapidly. You were so wet you knew you could take him. “Yes Jinnie, I can take you. Can take all of you.”

He groaned as he drug his own pants and underwear down, his member slapping at his stomach from the force. He then bucked his hips up, causing his dick to slide through your folds and wetting his tip.

He went to line himself up to push in when you stopped him, “Wait!” He paused instantly, looking at you with wide eyes and his body rigid like he had done something wrong. “What about umm… protection?”

He visibly relaxed, “Had me scared for a second baby.” He chuckled. “Did you take your birth control yesterday and today?”

“Umm yeah, I did.”

“Then we’re all good. I checked with Channie Hyung earlier and he said since you're on a fast acting prescription I’m allowed to defile you in every way.” He had a smirk on his face.

“Oh.” You gulped, clenching around nothing.

“Though I will admit,” He began as he rubbed himself into you some more, on the precipice of pushing in. “ the idea of cumming on you instead of inside, really does something to me.” You groaned at his words. “Mm you want that, baby? Want me to mark your skin with more than just paint?”

“Yes Jinnie. I want it so much.”

“I’ll give it to you, sweet omega.” He rolled his hips at a perfect angle, sending his full length into you. Your back arched at the intrusion, and you pulled him flush against you. “Ngghh so tight, baby. Still so so tight around me.” You clenched at his sentiment. “Fuck, keep clenching like that and your gonna make me cum too soon.”

Hyunjin set a slow pace as he thrust into you, one of his hands held up one of your thighs and the other was pulling down the top of your dress to expose your bare chest to him. He immediately leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. He sucked on the bud for a minute then switched to the other one. You hadn’t worn a bra under the dress as it came with cups built in so there was no need. You were mentally high fiving yourself for making that choice.

You let out a loud moan when his dick snapped into you at the perfect angle, hitting the sweet spot within you. When he noticed he found it, he repeated that same motion over and over again. The pleasure was so good you started to shake with the impending orgasm.

Your slick was sloshing out of you with every movement, soaking the paint stained blanket underneath. “Oh my god, baby. I can feel you getting close. Can feel the way your body begs to cum. Let go, baby. Show me that beautiful sight I’ve been craving so much.”

At his permission, the band in your core snapped. You came with a wail of his name, “Hyyyunnjiinnnnnnn oh my god.” and you dug your fingers into the fabric of the shirt he still wore.

When he felt you clamp down on him, Hyunjin knew he was a goner. He stalled his hips for only a moment as he pulled out of you a mere second before releasing his essence onto your folds and lower stomach with a shudder. His eyes zeroed in on the bite marks on your shoulder and he lowered his mouth back to your chest where he laid his own devilish bite to your skin, right above your right breast.

You squirmed from the sensation, his emotions flooding through the bite into you. Though you could feel him break the skin, the pain didn’t come. Hyunjin wore his heart on his sleeve and now you were definitely feeling it. “Jinnie..” He let go of your skin, his breathing hard. “Jinnie, can I bite you now too?”

His eyes shone at your question, and the animal within him growled in response. With no hesitation he ripped down the collar of his shirt and presented himself to you. “I would never want for anything again, if you claimed me as yours, my sweet omega.”

You leaned up and first kissed the skin where his neck and shoulder met, running along it with your tongue before you sunk your teeth into him. Hyunjin twitched and moaned when you claimed him. He could feel how much love you had inside of you and he wanted to drown in it. He considered himself lucky to even be around you, but having the girl of his dreams bite him in return? Now he was just blessed.

You let go of him and licked the wound, stopping it from dripping. He brought himself up to hover above you now as he took in the state of you both. Both of your lips still marred in blood and bodies covered in an array of paint.

“That was insane.” You breathed out once you stopped panting, running your hands along his back.

“That’s how you make me feel, baby. Insane.” He pecked your lips with a gentle smile. Then he sat up and let you sit up as well. “I think we should probably get our shit together. We got a big mess to clean.”

You looked around at the mess you created. “Yeah you’re right. This may not have been our smartest idea.”

He shrugged, “It was fun though, yeah?”

You giggled, “So much fun.” You kissed his lips again, then began to clean up.

It wasn’t until an hour later that you both finally got back to the house. You had hoped to sneak in unnoticed by the rest of the pack, but of course it could never be that easy.

“What the hell happened to you guys?!”

And of course it was Jisung who noticed you both, exclaiming his question loudly for all to hear. The beta was sat outside on the porch with a bowl of ice cream in his lap, spoon hanging out of his mouth.

You cringed when you noticed him sitting there, trying to hide behind Hyunjin- whose face was burning red now. “Nothing, Ji. Pretend this never happened!” Hyunjin tried to shuffle past Jisung but was stopped at the door by Jeongin.

“Woah what the actual fuck did you guys do?!” The young alpha popped his head out of the door, hearing Jisungs initial inquiry.

You groaned from your place behind Hyunjin, stepping out to set a hand on your hip. “We had fun, that’s what happened.” You huffed, trying to hide your pure embarrassment.

Both of the other boys' eyes scoured your figure, taking note of the red hand prints on your upper thighs and the bite mark peeking up from your cleavage, though it was mostly hidden.

“Yeah, looks like you had a ton of fun, baby.” Jisung snickered, throwing his arm up to block the smack coming from Hyunjin.

You crossed your arms and stuck your nose in the air snootily, “Hmpf, laugh all you want. I have paint in places where paint should never be, so if you’ll excuse me I need to shower.” You stomped past the laughing boys, Hyunjin coming in behind you.

“You go on and shower up, love. I’ll take care of this mess.”

“Are you sure, Jinnie? I really don’t mind cleaning up.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I got it. You’re more covered than I am anyways. I’ll catch you in a while, ok?” He pecked your lips when you nodded in agreement. “Love you.”

“Love you Jinnie.” You made your way up the stairs and to your room to get some clothes.

“Is that my omega I hear?” Chans voice flooded your ears when he rounded the corner into your room. “There you are swee- woah baby what happened?” He paused his movements when he saw you.

You smacked your palm to your forehead with a sigh, “That’s everyone's big question. Jinnie and I did a little painting today. And we may have gotten carried away.” You gave him a sheepish grin.

“Uh huh, I can see that.” He approached you and grabbed your hand, spinning you around to see all the damage. “ I always knew you were a work of art, now it’s just been confirmed.”

“Don’t be corny.” You giggled, pulling him into a kiss. “I need to shower. I can feel all this paint drying on my skin.”

“Go hop in baby. I’ll grab you some of my clothes for you to wear.” He patted your butt to send you out of the room.

“Yes sir!” You saluted dramatically and skipped into his room and to his bathroom.

You missed the way he groaned at the title you called him, and the way he cupped his growing bulge through his black sweats. He couldn’t wait to play with you later.

You came back downstairs a while later, freshened up like the paint fight never even happened. Though, the light throb of your most recent claiming bite reminded you it was very much real. It was approaching evening, and you hadn't made breakfast so that means you could finally cook dinner for your pack.

Entering the kitchen you start rifling through the fridge and cabinets looking for what you can make. Luckily you found everything you would need to make pasta and a homemade alfredo sauce. You got to work quickly, feeling in your element as you cooked and prepared. You cut up some chicken as well as some veggies to throw in.

You couldn’t help but to think about what happened with Hyunjin. How he has said Channie gave him the okay to…Cum in you. How he now had permission to do the thing everyone had been so precautious of since Felix defied. You would have to clarify with your alpha later.

You were almost done with everything when you heard footsteps entering the kitchen. You could tell exactly who it was, since you were getting used to each of the boys you were catching on to how they each moved.

“Hey babycakes.” You were right, it was Changbin who came in. He must have smelt the food and come to investigate. “What are you cookin in here, gorgeous? It smells amazing, had me drooling since I pulled up the driveway.”

“Alfredo.” You answered, leaning back into him when he came up behind you. “It was one of my faves growing up. Where did you run off to today?”

He kissed the top of your head and put his hands on your hips. “I hit the gym with a new friend I met the other day at the diner. Next time you should come, baby. Build some muscle in these little arms.” He pinched your arm lightly in jest.

“I’ll think about it.” You hummed, squirming away from him. “ Maybe I’ll get swole enough to kick your ass.” You put your first up mock menacingly, shaking it at him.

Changbin laughed and grabbed your lifted fist, curling his own fingers over it, “Careful there, slugger. These things are already registered weapons.”

You winked, “Don’t you forget it.” You then turned back to your task. “Hey Binnie, can you please grab some plates for me so I can set the table?”

“Absolutely baby.” He got the plates from the cabinet and took them into the dining room. “Don’t worry about setting the table, I got it.” He said when he came back to get cutlery.

“Thank you Bin, that is very helpful.” You smiled at him, making his heart swell and the alpha within him purr.

“Anything for my omega.” He kissed your lips and took a bowl of pasta from your grasp, taking it to the table.

“Mmmm what is goin on in here?” Jisung was the next to come in to investigate, his boba eyes taking in the meal you had prepared.

“Just dinner, Ji. Actually it’s great you're here, can you please alert the rest of the pack that dinner is done and to come down to the table, please?”

“Of course my sweet lover.” He had a sing-songy voice as he skipped away.

It only took a few minutes before all the boys were gathered around the table and all serving up their food (after they all thanked you for making such a delicious meal, of course).

“So what are we thinkin, movie night?” Seungmin looked around at everyone as he suggested it.

Chan nodded, swallowing his last bite. “Yeah a nice night in sounds great. What do you think, my love?”

“Good to me! I just wanna chill tonight, I’m a little tired.” You stood to begin clearing empty plates.

Jeongin snorted, “Yeah I imagine you would be after your messy day with Jinnie.” He had a smirk, and laughed when you tried to pinch him as you picked up his plate.

“Messy? What happened?” Felix was confused, clearly distraught at being kept out of the loop.

Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Ah Baby and I just went on a little picnic date, that's all.”

“Are you suuuuurrrreeeee that’s all that happened Hyung?” The young alpha pressed teasingly. “Are you sure that you both didn’t come back covered in paint from head to toe, looking like you were mauled by a bear?”

“More like a ferret.” Jisung murmured, then broke into giggles when the alpha boy high fived him.

Hyunjin shrugged, though the blush to his cheeks gave away his lack of nonchalance. “What happens in the woods, stays in the woods. Right angel?”

You nodded, “Right Jin.”

“Even so, it sounds like Innie and Ji just signed themselves up for clean up duty. Ain't that right boys?” It was Chan now who said it, raising his brow and looking at the two guys expectantly.

They both sighed and began to clean up the table, knowing it wasn’t worth arguing over. Though it didn’t stop them from mumbling how unjust and unfair it was the whole time.

By the time the sun had completely set you all had gathered in the living room, watching ‘Harry Potter’. You were all starting with the first one and decided to watch at least one out of the series every sunday until all had been watched.

You were cozied up with Chan on the loveseat, with him holding you securely against his chest while you sat in his lap. Jisung was curled up beside you with your legs thrown over his lap. Hyunjin and Jeongin were in front of the loveseat on the floor, leaning back up against it and giving you perfect reach to play with their hair. Minho, Seungmin and Changbin all sat on the bigger sofa together.

That just left Felix in the recliner. Sat alone with a perfect view of you being touchy with the other pack mates. The beta tried to focus on the movie, he really did. And he almost made it all the way through- until he saw Chans hand slide up the side of your thigh to your bare hip and the shirt you wore rode up to show off a sliver of your panties. What he has missed though, was the flicker of the alphas eyes over to the younger boy as he touched you. By that point the need to touch you was eating him alive and he could no longer sit there.

The beta felt himself sniffle subconsciously, then he stood from his place abruptly, drawing attention from everyone else at the sudden movement. “Sorry, I’m not… I gotta go.” Felix apologized and ducked his head, speeding out of the living room.

You shifted like you were going to go after him, but settled back into submission against your alpha; as much as it pained you to do so, you knew you couldn’t help him right now. Chan was pleased with your choice, tilting your chin up to place a delicate kiss to your pouty lips as a reward for learning the lesson.

Everyone's positions in this room did not go unnoticed by the alpha. It seemed like everything fell perfectly into place for Chan when Felix had sat alone on the other side of the room. As he predicted, Hyunjin stood next to Felix to calm him down. Two down.

By the end credits Jisung was falling asleep next to you, his weight leaned on you. Chan was the one to wake him with a poke. “Hannie, I think you better head off to bed. You’re drooling all over the place.”

“Mmnm don’t wanna.” He grumbled in return.

Chan sent a pleading look to Minho on the other couch, the beta sighing then standing and coming over to haul the boy off of you. “Alright, come on Sungie. Let's get you to bed.” Min tried to haul the younger beta up but Jisung defiantly dead weighted himself so he couldn’t be moved. “You are such a child. Bin, can you help me please?”

The alpha came to help, grabbing Jisung up from the loveseat with ease as the younger protested sleepily. Together they took him up to bed (after Ji and Bin gave you good night kisses).

Chan laid a couple kisses on your arm, making you giggle. He then shifted his eyes quickly to Seungmin, hoping the beta would take the hint. Luckily he did. Seungmin stood with an exasperated yawn, “Man I am beat. I’m gonna head up to bed. Jeongin, let’s go.”

The alpha boy looked up confused, “Huh? If you’re tired, why do I have to go to bed?”

Seungmin huffed with an eye roll, “Dude don’t make me spell it out for you. Let’s go. It’s late anyways.” He grabbed Jeongin by his shirt collar and pulled him up with him.

“Fine, fine, hands off you ass!”

Both boys also gave you good night kisses before they went on their way up.

You had wanted to ask him about what Hyunjin said earlier, and now seemed like the only time. “Channie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my love. What’s on your mind?”

“Well..” You twiddled with your thumbs nervously. “When I was with Jinnie earlier today, he said you had given your permission to.. Umm.. fuck this is embarrasing. Did you say it was ok to cum in me now since I’m on fast acting birth control?”

He didn’t expect you to come right out with it, his shock making him chuckle. “Yes baby. That was my stipulation to the guys. No filling up my girl until you were on birth control. Luckily we got prescribed a good brand from the Doctor. He gave the okay so I did in return.”

You let out the breath you were holding. “Ok ok, cool. I’m glad I asked. It was killing me not knowing for sure. I mean not that I don’t trust Jinnie, cuz I do, with my life, but sometimes I can’t help but worry and after what happened last time you can never be too sure, right?”

“Baby, you're rambling. It’s ok, thank you for making sure. Good omega.” He petted you tenderly to calm you.

“Should we head to bed too Channie? It is getting late.” You suggested, willfully ignorant to his schemes.

“Nah, I’m not that tired. Wanna watch another movie?” You nodded in response, and went to move off of him now that there was more space to sit. He grabbed you and held you on him, “Where do you think you're going, baby? Didn’t we agree I would get you all to myself?”

“Yes alpha.” You suppressed a laugh at how cute he was. “I do recall something like that.”

“Exactly. Now you're staying right here, where you belong, hm?” He tickled your sides when you didn’t respond this time, making you laugh loudly. “C’m on omega, tell me when you belong.”

“On.. your.. Lap.” You managed to get out between cackles, his fingers only relenting when you answered.

“That’s right baby. Now since you were right, I’ll let you pick the next movie.” He grabbed the remote and handed it to you.

“Can I pick anything I want?”

“Yep, anything for you my love.”

You grinned evilly and typed in the movie you had been itching to watch.

“I can’t believe you’re making me watch ‘Twilight’.”

“You said I could pick whatever I wanted! This is what I want!”

Chan groaned in boredom for what had to be the fifth time since starting the movie. “Is this really what girls are into? Old men who stalk them and tell them they’re his ‘personal brand of heroine’ as if that shit isn’t creepy!”

“Channie, don’t act like what you say isn’t poetic like that too! You are just as bad!” You huffed.

The alpha checked the time on his phone discreetly, noticing it was nearing ten pm. Perfect. “I’ve never considered myself good with words.” He tilted your head slightly and started to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of content. “ Kinda always thought my romantic talents were laid in other ways.” You whimpered when he gave a harsh suck to your flesh. “Want me to show you, baby?”

“Out-out here in the living room?” You stuttered when his hands started to travel back under your shirt.

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, “It’s my house, I can have you wherever I want.” His rough hands slid up your sides and to your breasts under the shirt. He ran his thumbs across your nipples, toying with the hardened buds. Then an idea popped into his mind. “But you were set on watching this movie… So your gonna watch it.” He suddenly turned your body so you were sitting with your back against his chest, and your front facing the tv. Also facing the entry way into the room.

You gasped when he grabbed your jaw softly and made you watch the tv. “Channie, what…”

“Watch your movie, baby. Alphas got you.” He then tugged your shirt up and over your head, so now you sat there almost naked other than your panties. “Mm so pretty. Look at all these pretty marks on you, omega.” He sloppily kissed each one, at the same time he resumed his playing with your nipple with one hand. The other was toying with the hem of your panties.

You let out a quiet whimper when he tugged on the bud. Trying to focus on the movie was becoming a nearly impossible task. You could vaguely register what was happening, it appeared to be the baseball scene. Then he tugged harder. You couldn’t help the light grind of your hips at the sensation. Having his hands on you made you instantly wet, the slick accumulating quickly from your core. Your body naturally reacted to him this way, he could look at you a certain way and it could get you going. (A fact you would never share with him, less you feed his ego even more)

“Can smell you, ‘mega. You're leaking such a delicious scent.” He nosed your skin as he was totally engulfed in the aroma. It was so thick and syrupy, he was sure it was starting to drip from the walls. At his words you ground down again, feeling his thickness under your ass. “Are you getting impatient, baby? “

“Mmhmm” You only hummed in return.

He cooed, “ok baby, Alpha will play with his baby.” With lithe fingers he slowly pulled your panties down your hips and off your thighs, leaving you now completely naked on his lap. A string of arousal followed the fabric as they fell to the floor, Chan groaning at the sight. “Fuck love, is that all for me?”

“Uh huh. For you Channie.” You nodded rapidly, moaning when those same fingers ran their tips along your folds. Chan used his knees to separate your legs even further, putting your center on full display. He collected the slick that was dripping out of you, and brought the digits up to slowly circle your clit. You threw your head back onto his shoulder and shut your eyes at the feeling. You both could tell you were quickly falling into subspace, letting Chan take care of you completely.

In fact you were becoming so out of it, that you missed the sound of footsteps coming down the hall closer to the living room, and stopping before the threshold. Chan, though, did not.

“Come on out, Lix.”

Felix was coming back down for his nightly vitamin he takes every night at ten pm. He keeps it in the kitchen so he can also grab some water before bed. It was his daily routine. One he never missed. What he didn’t expect was to be bombarded with the thick scent he would know anywhere by now, and the enticing sounds of your little moans. He halted his movements in the hall, eyes wide and his hands suddenly twitching. He was going to turn back around and hightail it back to his room, but then Chan called to him.

Fuck.

Your eyes shot open as Felix slowly, and stiffly shuffled into the living room. “Lix? What-?” You went to cover yourself with your hands but Chan stopped you.

“Aww don’t be shy now, baby. It’s nothing Lixie hasn’t seen before, right Lix?” Chan continued rubbing at the bundle between your legs, now with more vigor and you couldn’t stop the moan. Felix merely nodded, his eyes shadowed in both lust and wanting. The twitching in his fingers got worse as soon as he raked his gaze over your spread pussy. “Doesn’t she look so pretty like this, all spread open and squirming?” Chans eyes were dark and his tone had a menace to it that was hard to place, it had both you and Felix whimpering.

“So pretty.. The prettiest girl in the universe.” Felix mumbled out, unable to take his eyes from the way your hole clenched at his words.

“Nggh Lix…” You whined subconsciously, hips bucking into Chans hand for more friction. Chan never took his eyes off Felix as he nipped on your neck.

“I can’t take this.” Felix’s statement came out as a pained whisper.

“Hmm? What was that Felix?” Chan asked, acting uninterested, and inserting a finger inside now making you groan louder.

“I… I can’t take this anymore, Hyung.” Tears sprung to the betas eyes. “This is torture- worse than torture. Not being able to touch the woman I love, while everyone else gets to as much as they please, it’s so painful Chris.”

“You want your punishment to end? You want to touch this beautiful omega?” Chan used his other hand to grab the front of your throat, pulling your body even closer to his chest, not squeezing; just holding. A dangerous reminder that he was in charge.

Felix nodded lively, mouth gaping at the sight “ Yes I’ll do anything.”

“Beg me.”

Before Felix even registered the demand, you started wailing “Please alpha please I need him.”

Chan laid a quick slap to your pussy, relishing in your hiss at the contact. You tried to snap your legs closed but Chan held them open as you shook. “Hush omega, you’ve begged enough. The men are talking. Go on Felix.” His fingers resumed their thrusting into your hole.

Felix locked eyes with Chans dark intimidating stare, and he theatrically lowered himself to his knees, clasping his hands together.

“Chan, Alpha, I am begging you, please, please, don’t keep her from me anymore. I’ve learned not to defy you again. Please Hyung.” Felix was hiccuping through his tears as he begged.

“Look at him, Omega. Down on his knees begging for even a taste of you. Begging for the saccharine sweetness that pours from you, the nectar only I can provide. Should I let him? Should alpha be merciful and give him what he needs, baby?

“Yes Alpha. Please.” you responded right away.

“You want her? You want her pussy?” Chan asked rhetorically, chuckling when the beta nodded and cried. “Come show her how much you missed her. Your punishment is over.”

Immediately you were swarmed by Felix, the beta wasting no time at all to latch his mouth over your dripping center, his tongue finding your clit with ease. His hands went to your thighs as he ground his face into you, wanting you as close as he can possibly get. Felix dug his fingers brutally into your skin, as if he was scared you would slip through his hands again. Chan removed his fingers from inside you and put them back onto your breasts, pinching your nipples.

“Fuck, oh my god, Lixie.” Now it was you who was crying, putting your hands into his hair and gripping the strands tightly. He moaned into you when you grabbed his hair, causing vibrations to travel from his mouth into you. You were already so close to your high at that point, that when he suckled your clit into his mouth with a harsh suck, you absolutely lost it and the band inside of you snapped. “Ngghhhh Lixie, Channie, ohmygoooooooood ‘m cumming, mmmmggghh.”

The tears never stopped falling from your eyes; the emotions inside of you being so intense it’s like a dam broke. This was the most emotional orgasm you’ve ever had. You were shaking and sobbing against Chan as Felix continued to eat you out, never relenting for even a second. The betas eyes were fluttering at the taste of you, becoming drunk on your slick. You were becoming overstimulated with the constant pleasure so you tried pulling up Felix's head. After a moment he lifted his face from you, gazing at you with intense lust in his blown out eyes and your slick covering his face.

“Mm good girl, such a good omega for us, huh? Wanna keep being a good little girl for us, baby?” Chan questioned while kissing your shoulders. His voice was getting rougher by the second, as he himself was being overcome with both lust and power.

“Uh huh, wanna be good for you both.” You pet the side of Felix's face affectionately. You had missed being close enough to appreciate his darling freckles. He preened at your touch, nuzzling into your hand.

Chan removed his hands from your chest, “Go ahead and get on the floor for me, baby. On all fours.” He helped you off his lap and to the floor to join Felix. Luckily the blankets that were laid out from the movie night were still here so you weren’t on the bare ground. You settled yourself as he requested, and he groaned from behind you. The alpha got up from his place on the love seat and onto his knees right behind you. “That’s a good girl, present yourself to your alpha.” He delivered a quick slap to one of your ass cheeks, admiring the slight jiggle of the flesh.

You yelped at the sting, “Alpha!”

“You can take it. I bet my spanks aren’t half as bad as Minnies, hmm?” He jeered with a snicker. He peered over at the beta, who by this point was rubbing his dick through his pj pants and biting his lip. “ I think our Lixie is feeling a little neglected, huh baby? He's waited so patiently for you.” Chan asked, leaning over to rub his sweatpants clad crotch against your ass.

“Yeah, alpha. Wan’ make him feel good too. Wan’ him in my mouth.” You mumbled through your whines, craving to be filled one way or another.

“Fuck,” Lix cursed, gripping himself tighter when you said that.

Chan chuckled, “Seems like he wants that too. What do ya say, Lix? Want her mouth?”

“Fuck, more than anything.” The beta replied hastily.

“Alright then,” Chan pulled down his bottoms, just enough for his member to be out. The tip was red and leaking pre cum, he had clearly been horned up for a while. He rubbed the tip through your folds, wetting his length easily with the great amount of slick you’ve created. “Go ahead Lixie, give her what she wants.”

Felix wasted no time in shoving his pjs down his thighs, finally feeling a little relief at no longer being confined. He came to stand in front of you, but before you could take him into your mouth he leaned down and gave you a devastatingly emotional kiss. He groaned low into your mouth, missing the way your lips tasted and felt. It made him start to tear up again. “Missed you so fucking much, baby. ‘M never gonna lose you again.” He whispered against your lips.

“Missed you too Lix- AH” Your sentiment was cut off by Chan pushing his length into you. You arched your back at the intrusion and dug your fingers into the fabric below you. The stretch of taking your alpha was immeasurable. “Shit, so big alpha.” Chan growled approvingly when you said that. You tried to refocus on Felix the best you could, though your mind was slipping further and further away with each thrust of Chans hips. “In my mouth, pl-ease, nee’ it.”

Felix took a small step back and positioned himself in front of your face, holding his tip a few inches from you. “Here you go, lovey. You can have it.” Your mouth fell open and you stuck your tongue out, licking the flushed tip and tasting his precum. You suckled on it for a second, then a particularly hard thrust from Chan caused you to take Felix completely into your mouth and down your throat, making you gag. The beta immediately threw his head back in pleasure, “Ffffucking christ oh shit. God, so warm and wet.”

Tears sprung to your lash line when Felix hit the back of your throat. Little ‘mmpfs’ sounds were leaving you from the rutting into your core, that quickly turned into gurgly muffled moans when Chan found your sensitive spot inside of you. Your thighs were covered in slick and it was wetting the alphas bottoms. He was letting out deep, raspy grunts each time he bottomed out. His hands gripped harshly onto your hips to keep you in place, as Felix began thrusting gently into you.

Felix ran his hand down your throat, feeling his length inside through your own skin. He gasped at the pressure he has created. He didn’t want to over stimulate you with double choking though, so he left it at that for now.

The beta held your cheeks with his palms as he wiped your tears, looking into your eyes with his glassy ones as if asking for permission to take you. You answered by sucking intensely on his member. That was what he needed, and he began to shakily fuck your mouth.

“I wish you could see how magnificent you are right now, omega.” Chans voice was gruff and raspy. “So fucking perfect the way you take us. Fuck, most perfect omega in the world.”

Perfect.

There's that word again. That's the second time today you had been called it, but honestly, right now as you float through subspace, you would believe literally anything they told you. You were so far gone and delirious you just moaned in agreement.

The corners of your lips were leaking drool, both areas of entry being so wet there was a loud sloshing sound that filled the entire room. The only other time you had been this soaked was on your heat.

Chan brought his fingers around your body and found your clit again. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he began to circle the nub. You were already so sensitive that it only took a few swipes of his fingers before you were orgasming. Your body began to spasm in pleasure and your wails increased, the vibrations shooting straight into Felix's dick.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum oh FUCCKK” The beta gripped your face and held you steady while he shot hot ropes of cum down your throat. He let go of your face once his shaking stopped, pulling out of your mouth swiftly. “So good, baby. Your mouth is magical.” He went to wipe the cum and drool that was on your face but he didn’t get the chance.

As soon as Felix pulled out of your mouth, Chan used one of his hands to push your head down into the blankets below. The change made your hips raise slightly and your back arch even more, letting the Alpha drive into you even further. “There we go, fuck sweet girl your even tighter like this, goddamn.” He was unrelenting in his powerful plunging into you. “Love you so so much, my baby, my omega.”

“Alpha, love youuuu.” You clenched at the way he said your presentation. He always made it sound so dirty. You loved it.

Your clenching on him was what he needed, the tightening threw him completely overboard. He growled deeply, the sound was a menacing rumble that emerged from the back of his throat. He shot thick ropes of his cum deep inside you. His knot inflated at the base and locked the two of you together. He rocked his hips a little more as he finished, the last few drops entering you.

For a second, all of you were silent - except for the collective panting as you all came down. You could feel Felix stroke your hair softly as Chan ran his hands comfortingly up and down your spine. Your face was still buried in the blankets below you, mouth open and breathing hard.

“Did so, so good for us Omega. Love you so much.” Chan began whispering praises as his knot started to deflate. Felix was now sitting on the ground and pulling your head up to rest in his lap. He wiped your tears and cooed about how much he loves you.

Chan was ecstatic, the night fell into place exactly as he wanted it too. Well, for the most part… There was one thing he didn’t account for.

That was a certain youngest Alpha who came down for a late night snack and stumbled upon the scene in the living room….

All three of you were so caught up in each other that no one noticed Jeongin walk in mid act. And not a single one of them could predict it accidently sending the alpha boy into an early rut..

Oops.

A/N: I know, I know it's a little late.... Unfortunately going forward this series will probably be updated bi weekly instead of weekly :'( i will be working a lot more in preparation for festival season! (Anyone going to edclv this year? 👀👀👀💃🏻)

Also, before anyone says it, yes i know thats not how birth control works,,,, it's a made up universe with made up rules :)

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

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wlntrsldler · 4 months

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bad for business | luke castellan

warnings: loser!luke agenda is strong with this one, insecure!luke because of reader's judgmental siblings but they get over it later on, suggestive content but nothing explicit, luke being happy and in love (we need more of this; i'm pointing the finger at myself, i need to write happy luke fics) aphrodite!reader x luke, in an alternate universe where the betrayal didn't happen

based on bad for business by sabrina carpenter

i. he's good for my heart, but he's bad for business.

"she's probably going to dump him soon, anyway."

"she's just doing it for the tradition, obviously."

"she's too good for him."

sometimes luke just wanted to tell them to shut up, but he's already on thin ice with-- well, everyone at camp. they weren't a fan of the smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, or the ugly scar on his face (this, wasn't his fault though. if anything, they should hate his fucking dad for giving him the quest in the first place), or the fact that he's somehow dating the most popular, gorgeous, and brilliant girl at camp.

you, y/n y/l/n, the favorite daughter of aphrodite. at first luke thought that you'd be just like the rest of the aphrodite girls (he's not one to perpetuate stereotypes, being the victim of it all his life, but the aphrodite kids always turned their noses up at him so he didn't feel too bad dishing it out), but then you smiled at him with your pretty, pink lips and luke knew he was a goner. he didn't stand a chance (not like he fought it too hard anyway)

you made an effort to remember his name, say hello to him when you passed by him, and you even went as far as asking him for his opinion on things.

"what do you think of this strategy, luke?" you asked, staring at him directly. the entire blue team was arguing loudly (luke thought their strategy fucking sucked and was a sure way for the ares cabin to, once again, demolish all of you, but he was going to keep that to himself) before your soft voice broke the noise. everyone stopped in their tracks because why the hell were you talking to him? asking him for his opinion?

he blinked, even looking behind him in case there was some other kid named luke that he didn't know about. when he finally realized that you were talking to him, he managed to stutter out that the plan was fine. you looked at him skeptically, penetrating the persona he put up with everyone, but decided not to push him anymore and simply nodded.

when the red team, led by the ares cabin, of course, handed your asses to you on a silver platter, you found luke at dinner and sat directly in front of him. chris, who was just as starstruck as luke that you were sitting with them, immediately scrambled off his seat and mumbled some half-hearted excuse to leave the two of you alone.

"so, spill," you said, planting your tray of food on the table. "what did you really think of the strategy?"

your conversation went from strategy to your life to his life to everything and anything until you two were the last two people left. he was glad when people finally got tired of gawking at you and him. (many in disbelief, all in jealousy that you decided to sit with him) you didn't seem to mind the stares, though, luke figured it was because you were used to it. it was hard not to stare at you.

luke thought that dinner was just a glitch in the matrix, that it was just some weird anomaly that would never happen again. he was just thankful that it happened; but then the next day, your perfectly manicured hand knocked on the hermes cabin door and you stood in front of luke with a timid smile on your face to ask him to train you in sword fighting.

luke got dressed at record speed. chris woke up after the third time luke hit his head under his bed when he was trying to find a semi-decent shirt to wear to your sparring session (maybe one that didn't smell too much like cigarettes). chris sat up on his bed, eyebrow quirked, with a teasing smile on his face.

as luke was racing out the door, he looked at chris, "don't start.''

chris threw his head back laughing, "i didn't say anything."

luke threw a pillow at chris with an oomph before rushing out to meet you.

the training sessions slowly morphed into sitting next to each other daily during meals, then into hanging out at campfires, until it got to the point when there wouldn't be a second of free time where the two of you wouldn't be together. luke could feel your siblings shooting daggers at him whenever he was alone, like a warning to stay away from you, but it's not like he was the one initiating things.

sure, he would follow you around the ends of the world if you asked (or even if you didn't, let's be honest here) but luke didn't want to test his luck so he just went with the flow. sometimes, he just wanted to talk to your siblings to set the record straight.

"look, i'm just as fucking confused as you are," he would say, "i don't know why she's hanging out with me either."

as much as he enjoyed your moments together, a piece of him still worried that you were just being nice. maybe you were this way with everyone. maybe he just likes you so much that he's making up these scenarios in his head.

he tried to talk to chris about it, but that proved to be the wrong decision because it's not like the boy had any experience either; he was pining over clarisse. the blind leading the blind, truly.

and then one day, while you and luke were sitting beside the water, after a long day of training, you looked over at him with an unreadable expression.

panicked, luke immediately straightened his back and twisted his body to face you. he wanted to reach for your hand to comfort you, but decided against it. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he cleared his throat, "what's wrong?"

"why haven't you asked me out?"

you would've thought percy summoned a cold wave to crash into luke with the way he was sitting there frozen. luke was looking at you blankly, like his brain was short-circuiting. it was a habit of his to blink and tilt his head to the side whenever he was shocked.

"huh?"

you were frowning now, "do you not like me? i'm sorry, i guess i was just reading the situation wrong."

"woah, pause," luke leaned in closer, inspecting your face to see if there was a punchline about to drop like it was a gotcha! moment and all of your siblings would come out from behind the trees to laugh at him. he found no sign of such a thing. "do you like me?"

"luke, i've been so obvious," there was a hint of embarrassment in your voice and luke wanted to kiss it away. your cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of red as you chewed on your bottom lip. "i thought maybe you liked me too, but i guess it was all in my head. i'm sorry-- forget i even said anything."

"yeah, i don't want to forget it," luke shook his head, now stumbling over his words. his brain was working again, sort of. "i like you, too. like really like you. sorry, you just caught me off guard for a sec."

"you do?"

"gods, i really really do."

you beamed at him and luke was so thankful that he was sitting because his knees would've buckled at your reaction and humiliated himself by falling face-first in the water if he was standing. he was especially thankful that he was sitting when you climbed onto his lap to make out with him until both of your lips were bruised.

ii. i'm mad for you, it's sad but true, and you know it. you're on my mind, you stole my life and it's showing.

word traveled fast after that. when you walked into breakfast with luke's arm around your waist, the whispers started. luke thought the staring before was bad, but this was on a new level. he felt the other aphrodite kids following his every move, poison in their eyes.

when you sat next to luke, impossibly close to him, chris' eyebrows rose in glee. he motioned to the both of you with his spoon, flicking drops of milk with the motion, "what's going on here?"

"i'm luke's girlfriend now."

luke nearly choked on the apple he was eating when he heard the words leave your lips. yes, he knew that you were dating now (his pathetically hoarse voice saying, "will you be my girlfriend?" after the hours-long makeout session the night before haunted his dreams last night; he wanted to keep his cool so bad, but it just wasn't possible when you were sitting on his lap, all pretty with your thighs on either side of his, lips glossy with his saliva instead of your typical lipgloss), but it was the first time he heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend. his girlfriend.

"nice," chris raised his hand up for a high-five, which luke was about to complete, but chris pulled his hand away, "not for you, dude."

you giggled and high-fived chris, making luke look between the two of you in bewilderment.

"what the fuck was that?" luke asked. when did you and chris get close?

"this is embarrassing," you started, looking down at your plate of food. you were dragging your spoon across the blob of oatmeal, "but i talked to chris about you last week because i was so sad that you haven't made a move yet. i just wanted to hear his opinion on things in case i was just being stupid."

"why didn't you tell me this?"

"i tried!" chris argued, laughing a bit when luke's face turned red, "plus, i didn't want to tell you that me and y/n had a conversation because i had faith that you'd make a move! i obviously bet on the wrong horse, though, because y/n made the move."

"oh my gods, i'm a loser." luke groaned, tossing the apple on his tray. he lost his appetite. "you mean we could've been together this entire time?"

you placed a hand on his thigh, making him turn his attention to you. you gave him a comforting smile that he quickly reciprocated. you gave his thigh a soft squeeze, "it's okay, luke. we can make up for lost time."

luke smirked at you, "tonight?"

"dude, i'm trying to fucking eat."

luke threw up the middle finger to chris' face before connecting your lips.

to luke's surprise, your relationship didn't really change much after putting a label on it. (the changes that did occur were that now he can kiss you freely, which he was thankful for, and that you were even more touchy with him, which he was extremely thankful for because he loved having you next to him at all times. he was so smitten with you.) he realized then how blind he'd been the entire time because you were so very obvious about your feelings for him, he was just too stuck in his own head to notice it.

he started being outwardly affectionate with you, gaining more confidence while he was on your arm. his favorite thing to do was to wrap his arms around your torso and bury his face into the crook of your neck. he loved hearing you erupt in giggles when his curls tickled your skin. he was drunk on you and you didn't mind one bit.

you even said that you were more attached to him than he was to you (he looked at you like you had three heads because it couldn't have been further from the truth.)

he took you on little picnic dates and made you jewelry that you wore proudly, and you wore his clothes (he would be lying if he said that his heart didn't skip a beat when you walked out of the aphrodite cabin sporting his hermes sweater) but above all, luke loved the way he could talk to you about everything. he told you about his mom, his dad, his doubts and his insecurities, and you listened. you would sit there, hands in his hair, while he laid on your chest. he didn't know the last time he felt safe, but with you, he always did.

iii. all of my friends think i've gone crazy, but they don't know me like my baby.

luke tried to ignore the fact that there were running bets from campers about how long you two would last, but it was getting to him. he'd heard it all; a week, two weeks, three months. he fought the urge to roll his eyes when he heard the jingling of drachmas being passed around when you and him were seen together after someone lost their bet.

it's been two months but people still believed that you two were going to break up soon. the idea of it made luke feel sick. he couldn't imagine a life without being yours anymore. truth be told, he was wholly yours the minute he met you, but after every kiss, every hug, every second with you, he was just falling deeper in love with you.

it was a little scary.

"hiya, baby," you greeted him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

you started calling him the pet name a few days into dating and luke actually whimpered when you did it the first time. you loved getting these reactions from luke and his little sounds (both innocent and not-so-innocent) only spurred you on. when he's with you, luke turned into this mush, always wanting to be held by you or touching you in some way.

"hi," he mumbled, leaning up to place a quick kiss on your lips.

you hummed happily before resting your hands on his back, "baby, you're tense. are you okay?"

"yeah," luke replied, but his furrowed eyebrows said differently.

"no you're not," you walked in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, "what's going on?"

luke sighed, "everyone thinks we're gonna break up-- or more specifically, everyone thinks you're gonna break up with me."

"do you believe that i'll break up with you?" you frowned, loosening your hold on him. "did i do something that made you think that?"

"no, no," he said, quickly. he pulled you closer to him, not wanting you to let go of him. "i just-- i dunno. everyone says i'm not good enough for you, and i know i'm not, and it's getting to my head a little bit."

you looked up at him, removing your hands from around him to reach for his face. you brought his face down closer to yours to pepper kisses all over it; his cheeks, his lips, his scar, his jaw. "i think you're perfect."

"you have to say that 'cause you're my girlfriend," he playfully rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop a goofy smile from forming on his face due to your kisses.

"yeah, i am your girlfriend," you reminded him, placing a longer kiss on his lips now. your lips moved together, making luke's hands wander to your lower back to push you closer to him. you pulled away, breathless, "listen to your girlfriend, baby. i'm not going anywhere so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

there were still moments when the voices of the other campers bounced around in luke's head, but you were always there to quiet them with your reassurance and your love for him.

eventually, people stopped talking about you and luke and accepted that you two weren't breaking up anytime soon (they were about six months too late, in luke's opinion). he even managed to win over your siblings later on (kind of; they still don't talk to him unless they have to but they smile at him now, but luke isn't picky; a win is a win)

luke was happy and in love and it was all thanks to you.

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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palskippah · 2 months

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Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

#sonic the hedgehog #my art #agent stone #doctor eggman #ivo robotnik #aban stone #coolest fanmade name #stobotnik #I'm so normal about my fanbabies #Ivania Robotnik is too obvious but also why not #Sofia Robotnik sounds cool tho #fankids #I gave up on coloring everything sorry #SONIC BOOM EGGMAN MY HUSBAND 🗣️🗣️🗣️#When I was a kid I watched that show just for him whwhw #pls pls pls receive this well i want to draw these villains in love more #eggman being in love with stone is my favorite thing in fics #he loves in such a weird way but it's okay Stone loves it

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hansensgirl · 2 months

Text

💸 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (3/3)

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!fem!reader.

chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, SMUT, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, control kink, jealousy/possessiveness, anxiety/fear, mild foreplay, vaginal sex, rough sex, praise, degradation, dirty talk, rough sex, mild choking, deceit, lying, drinking, creampie, manhandling (a bit), size kink (cock), alluded spying/stalking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~5.6k

author’s note. | series masterlist. after a million years, here’s the final part! i hope you enjoyed this series. please enjoy the final part and don’t forget to reblog. any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

Time drags by slowly, each minute feeling longer than usual. Perhaps it’s because you don’t do much anymore. You continue with your regular routine, though waking up and going to bed early isn’t necessary.

Ari visits often, taking you on drives along scenic routes you never knew your city had. He sometimes stays with you at home, watching a movie while you feast on snacks. Any time you’re graced with his presence, he comes bearing gifts.

The first present required much convincing for you to accept. It was a set of rings with elegant jewels that cost more than your life. The mob boss placed each one on your fingers and kissed the pads of your digits, his lips so soft that you can still feel them.

You keep the rings locked up in your drawer, buried under items a thief wouldn’t bother searching through. Wearing them makes you feel like someone you aren’t—his girlfriend. No, you’re just his… something, for now.

The day after Ari’s first gift, he arrived on your doorstep with another.

Whenever you see him, he is always put-together. He wears expensive suits, and his hair is perfectly styled yet effortless. He’s considerate, too, always asking about your eating habits and making sure you’re doing more than well while under his care.

The second present was a pair of shoes you had secretly been vying for whenever you got the chance to window-shop downtown. Ari sat you down on your couch and gently lifted your feet, slipping the shoes on as if you were Cinderella, and he was Prince Charming.

His touch remained gentle, although you knew he isn’t always this way with others. Sometimes, you think of what Ari does when he isn’t with you. Does he torture his enemies? Lurk in the shadows? Visit restaurants that are really fronts for more lucrative operations?

You push these ideas out of your mind when you realize they’ll do you no good, as the older man often says. He catches you zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts repeatedly. It’s not as if you’re overthinking about yourself; you just can’t help but worry about the arrangement you’re in.

Unlike the rings, you wear the shoes with pride and a twang of guilt. You’re supposed to be paying Ari back, yet here he is, spoiling you into oblivion. You don’t want to ask him why. You figure it must be mobster gentlemanliness, right?

It’s been one month since the arrangement began, and you find you’re settling into it well. Ari makes sure of this, smoothing over all the wrinkles and ensuring that everything is the way it should be—the way he wants it to be.

You wake up in peace, noting that it’s half an hour later than you usually set your alarm. You even linger in bed, trying to recall your terrifying dream about running from a man who posed as an ally at first. But you never escaped, and now you have to catch your breath. You barely remember what he looked like.

On your bedside table—which is brand new after Ari replaced your old one—is a piece of paper you know you didn’t leave. You grab it and sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes once you brace against the backboard.

You recognize the handwriting immediately. It’s Ari’s. You don’t question when he left it, although the older man didn’t visit yesterday. Something about a deal gone wrong made him busy. You told him you didn’t mind just so he would spare you the details.

The truth is that you did mind. You mind a lot, actually. You find yourself thinking about the mob boss almost every second of the day, like he’s some crush you hope you can have all to yourself.

*Princess,

I hope you slept nicely. Don’t tire yourself too much today. I’m taking you out tonight. Please answer the door at around 1:30. It’ll be one of my associates.

*Yours forever, Daddy

You smile as you re-read each word. You appreciate the beauty of his handwriting and the fact he took the time out of his hectic days to leave you a note.

Once the rose-coloured haze disappears, you focus on the contents of the letter. Butterflies fill your stomach, but they taunt and awaken your worries instead of making you lovesick. You haven’t gone out in forever—where will Ari take you?

You get out of bed, and instead of brushing your teeth, you begin to pace along the expanse of your small bedroom. You have nothing nice enough to wear out on the town—nothing to suit your counterpart, at least. You believe you’ll look like an utter fool next to the revered man.

You eventually will yourself to calm down. You eat a delicious breakfast and search through your closet. Nothing.

The morning bleeds into the afternoon, and before you know it, there is a knock on your door. It’s the same pattern Ari used before getting himself a key to your home. You recall the orders he left on the note and rush to open the door.

You’re greeted by the face of Curtis, Ari’s most trusted associate. You’ve seen him from time to time, often staring down the girl in charge of serving the men with drinks and cigars or cigarettes. Whatever vice they want, she offers it up immediately.

Curtis doesn’t say much, and neither do you. He hands you two heavy bags—a paper one filled with boxes and a garment one—and grabs the door handle, shutting it for you. The exchange is weird, but you know Curtis is just doing his job. You can only imagine what Ari would do if he found out one of his employees went against his rules.

The mob boss has told you about his jealous streak, but you would never reveal how flattered you are that he feels that way about you. Though you chalk it up to just being business.

You turn the lock into place and set the bag on the couch, sitting next to it. Another gift! You’re more excited than you’d like to admit. With slightly shaky hands, you reach into the bag and take the tissue paper out.

It’s white with little colourful circles that remind you of confetti cake, Ari’s favourite. You baked it with him one night, and it was delicious. You giggle at the memory of him covered in flour and cake mix.

You’re gentle as you unwrap your gift. The first box is sleek, and you recognize the brand name. You’ve only ever dreamed of affording their cheapest item.

The gasp that leaves you when you take the lid off the box is audible and would make Ari chuckle. Inside is a pair of heels that gleam in the low light of your living room. You take one shoe out gently and inspect the details. They’re a work of art—and they’re all yours.

You feel like a spoiled kid on Christmas morning, squealing and gawking at everything. You close the first box and reach for the next. This one is smaller but heavier. The outside is covered in what feels like suede or velvet.

You pry it open, and your jaw drops. Inside is a beautiful diamond necklace with matching earrings. You’re not sure what the price is, but you know it must be worth a fortune. Your fingers itch to touch the jewels, but you resist the urge.

It’s too much. You can barely breathe.

As if you’re being spied on, your phone rings when you abruptly shut the box. You search for the device briefly, succeeding just at the last few trills. It’s Ari.

You answer the call quickly. His baritone voice comes out of the speaker, sounding just like honey.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greets. You can hear doors shutting on his end, as well as the click of a lighter and the telltale squeak of his chair. “Hi, Daddy,” you sigh almost dreamily.

Ari exhales audibly, and you assume he’s smoking. The thought of his nasty habit makes you wrinkle your nose. “D’you get your gifts, baby?” he asks. “Yes—but I can’t accept them, Daddy, it’s too much,” you protest, glancing back at the boxes. You realize you haven’t opened the garment bag yet.

“There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when I’m spoiling you, honey,” he chides. You fiddle with the wrinkled fabric of your t-shirt. “And if I’m hearing right, it sounds like you’re telling me ‘no’…”

Your breath hitches. No, that wasn’t your intention. “I’m not—I’m sorry, Daddy. I just– I just don’t know what to do. I’m not used to this,” you express honestly.

You’re determined to never break his rules for the next few months. You’ve already completed one—which he celebrated with a deliciously home-cooked dinner.

The older man shushes you. “I know, baby. You don’t know what to do without Daddy, hm?” he coos. The words make you feel slightly embarrassed, but it’s true. He’s the only one that has helped you cope with your new—albeit temporary—life.

You let Ari claim the following few words. Whenever he uses that title—Daddy—it’s as if he snaps you out of some stupor, and you realize what you’re doing. But when you use it, it feels like second nature.

“Don’t worry,” the older man says, attaching your name to the end of his reassurance to really grab your attention. Ari successfully grounds you. “Just do what I say, baby. Alright? You don’t have to accept the gifts, but you’ll wear them tonight,” he further explains.

“Tonight?” you repeat. “Tonight. When we go out. I have a small get-together planned with a few… friends,” the mob boss clarifies. "You know, honey, this is gonna be our first night out. Are you excited?” Ari asks, his tone a bit more light-hearted.

Admittedly, you’re much less than excited. You’re nervous—scared. But you can’t tell him this. You don’t want to be a bother.

“Y– Yeah. Of course, Daddy,” you tell Ari. You have no idea what you’re going to do. “I’m looking forward to it, baby. I can’t wait to see you all dressed up,” he hums. He picked the dress for you especially, wanting his girl to feel like a princess. “Me too… Where are we going?” you question.

“My place. You’re gonna love it, I promise,” he says. You nod your head, although the mob boss can’t see you. Ari chuckles briefly. “I’ll give you a tour once the guests are gone. They’ll be nice, but don’t talk to anyone when I’m not there, ‘kay?”

You listen to him gladly. You wouldn’t even dare to look at his other mobster friends.

“I gotta go now, baby. Call me if you need anything, alright?” Ari abruptly says, sighing deeply as if frustrated. “Yes, Daddy,” you tell him. He blows you a kiss over the phone and hangs up.

You always knew that this day would come, but you never thought it would arrive so soon. You stand up on shaky legs and read the text message Ari sends. He tells you to be ready by 9:00, and you acquiesce. You just hope that tonight goes smoothly. And quickly.

The clock ticks closer and closer to when Ari said he’d pick you up. He texted you here and there, responses quick and well-rounded. You resist using your abbreviation and onslaught of emojis.

You take your time getting ready, making sure that everything is perfect. The dress fits perfectly and is absolutely gorgeous. You ignored the price tag, knowing it wouldn’t sit well with you on the ride to his home.

You can’t help but admire yourself in the mirror, though. You feel like the movie stars you’ve always admired in their grand pictures with even larger budgets for the wardrobe, establishing them as fashion icons.

Holding your clutch to your chest, your other hand lightly touches the diamond necklace. It’s a harsh contrast to the simplicity and lightness of your gown. The pink tulle is slightly sheer but leaves much to the imagination. You spin around a bit, too, emulating your childhood princesses.

There is a knock at the door. You take a deep breath and open it, greeted by the sight of Ari.

Ari and his handsomeness. Ari and all your fantasies and weaknesses. You smile at him until your cheeks hurt, but even then, you don’t stop. You rush to hug him, squealing as he lifts you off the ground and presses a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re an angel, baby,” he says once he puts you down. You preen under his careful gaze, his kind words. “You look so handsome, Daddy,” you honestly tell him. You admire the ruggedness he keeps despite his current elegance.

He grins, and the car ride to his place is just like this. You sing praises to each other when the awkward silence becomes unbearable. Ari does most of the talking, while his trusted driver keeps the partition rolled up as classical music blares.

The older man tells you all kinds of jokes. You stare out the window whenever he catches you looking at him. His large hands remain on your thighs while yours are crossed in your lap. So far, so good, you think to yourself.

The drive goes by quickly, and soon, you pull up to his lavish mansion. It is on the outskirts of the city, nestled between tall trees resembling a forest. Ari exits the car first so that he can open the door for you.

You thank him and turn around to marvel at his house. It takes your breath away. You've never seen anything like it. Before you can ask Ari a few questions about his home, he drags you towards the entrance, hand on the small of your back at first, until he decides to loop it around your waist and pull you close to him.

“Don't worry, baby. Just be a good girl, 'kay?” Ari husks in your ear, glancing at the associate who opens the for for the two of you. You simply nod your head, words leaving your mouth as you take a peak inside.

So many people. So many eyes—all of them on you.

You gulp thickly. Ari grabs a flute of champagne from a server’s tray, offering yoou one with a telling glace. You shake your head. Even with all the alcohol in the world, you wouldn’t be able to calm down.

Ari’s hold on your waist grows firmer as men approach and speak to him. Sometimes, he strays to your ass, and you end up choking on your spit each time he does so.

You don’t recognize anyone here, except for Curtis and the other associate that had brought you to Ari the day you reckoned your fate. Neither of them spare you a glance, and if they do, you don’t notice it.

You hold onto the mob boss tightly, scared of losing him. You wouldn’t dare speak to anyone if that happened.

“Everything alright, baby?” the older man asks, once again tilting his head down to hear you better. “Yup,” you breathe out shakily, looking around. You notice that Ari doesn’t return to his normal stature, and then he realize your mistake.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you’re quick to say, and he presses his lips together in a line. “It’s okay. Don’t let it happen again,” Ari warns. “Yes, Daddy,” you diligently repeat, and he presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

Someone calls the mob boss’ name. You turn to look at who the voice belongs to, and you’re greeted by the sight of a man with two barely-clothed women hanging off his arms. You can see it in their faces—the unhappiness, the fear.

Ari can sense how tense you are, and he can sense the way Daniel has been dying to push his buttons all night.

“Price,” the mob boss bluntly addresses his colleague. The other man—the one with a goatee and an ego bigger than the entire continent—simply nods. “Levinson. Nice party you’ve got… Even nicer girl, hm?” Arthur smirks.

You can feel the stranger’s eyes on you, drinking in your appearance. You hate that feeling. You meet his gaze and he leers at your brazenly, winking and darting his tongue out to lick his lips, the action too slow for comfort.

Ari clears his throat to interrupt the moment. Daniel directs his eyes to the older man before engaging in some ‘work-related’ chatter, while you choose to focus on the women he practically holds hostage. Aren’t you just like them? Treated with more class and manners, but how long will that last?

You want to leave, but you know you can’t, and that upsets you. You have no autonomy, and for some reason, this finally upsets you after about a month of living in Ari’s precarious arrangement.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be,” he suddenly ends the conversation, snapping you out of your reverie.

Ari drags you away from the watchful, prying eyes of others. You can barely keep up with his pace.

“W– Wait, Daddy!” you call to him, but he doesn’t listen. Ari leads you up a set of stairs, and the amount of bodyguards lessen with each step, until there is no one left except for you two.

“What was that? Hm?” the mob boss questions angrily, pushing you into his personal bedroom. No one else has ever been inside it before—not even his past girlfriends.

“I– I don’t understand,” you stutter, panting as you try to catch your breath. “Really? I saw you gawking at Price,” Ari disproves. You furrow your brows. “I wasn’t! I would never,” you promise, placing your hands on his chest to placate him as best as you can.

Ari doesn’t shrug off your touch, but he does look away from you. “Please, Daddy. You have to believe me,” you continue. Ari looks back to you, and he sighs. “Promise?” he asks.

There isn’t much light in the room, save for the lamps in the corners. But you can still see the darkness of Ari’s eyes, and while it should frighten you, you can feel your panties dampen at the sight.

“Promise, Daddy,” you repeat. For added measure, you press a kiss on his nose, ready to pull away with a smile. But Ari’s hands quickly grab your face, cupping your cheeks and keeping you in place. “Daddy?”

The older man doesn’t say anything. He pulls you close and captures you in a rough kiss. It appears to be passionate, yet it screams ownership. You don’t know the difference—how could you? It feels right, it feels like what you owe the mobster. At least part of your debt, anyway.

When Ari finally pulls away, you can barely breathe. He doesn’t say a thing, and neither do you. Instead, he pushes you towards the bed, and you fall back with an ‘oomph.’

“W– Wait, Daddy–” you start, trying to sit up. Ari shushes you, pushing you back down with a small motion once he climbs on top of you. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he pants, grabbing your body and flipping you onto your stomach. Ari manhandles you with ease.

You nod your head and try to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s all moving too fast for you. “Stay still. Let Daddy make his baby feel good,” he demands, his voice hard enough to will you to listen. You still beneath him.

“Attagirl,” Ari chuckles, pulling the skirt of your dress above your ass. It was already a bit shorter than you’d like, but now everything is exposed to him. The cold air on your ass makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver at the sudden cold.

“Fuck, this ass is perfect,” Ari growls, grabbing a handful of the supple flesh. He lands a sharp smack to your butt, and you gasp at the contact. It stings at first, but as the feeling dies away, you realize that you enjoy it. You grow shy with shame. “I’m gonna ruin you, princess.”

His words seem like a promise, but they sound like a threat.

“Don’t you think we should take it slow, Daddy?” you ask him, voice a pitch higher out of fear. Fear of him? Fear of his answer? “I’ve taken it slow, honey. I’ve been a gentleman,” Ari assures you.

He isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you agree with him. It’s only been a month. You haven’t known him that long.

“But this wasn’t a part of the deal,” you protest one final time. You’re quieter this time around, and Ari pauses in his tracks. There is silence for a few moments, until he speaks up. “It is now.”

That is all he says as he grabs at your panties, ripping the fabric off your skin. You gasp at his actions, and the sound turns into a lewd moan when his fingers find your folds.

“You’re soaking, baby. Like a little whore,” he coos, rubbing the pads of his digits up and down your wet skin. You shudder from the pleasure, squeezing your thighs together when Ari touches your clit. “It’s okay. Daddy loves his little slut,” he professes.

Your head spins from the pleasure, the confession, and the turn of events. Your voice catches in your throat when Ari rubs your clit, sending jolts of electricity throughout your body. He pulls sounds from you that you never knew you could make. They’re music to the mob boss’s ears.

Ari chuckles, as if in victory, when you begin to gyrate your hips to meet the movements of his hands on your pussy. He can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, and all he can think about is fucking you. He hasn’t stopped thinking about fucking you since he first saw you—and that wasn’t the day you went begging to him.

“Daddy,” you mewl, sending a rush of blood to Ari’s dick. “I’m here, baby,” he coos, picking up the pace of his fingers. His other hand plays with your ass, groping and lightly slapping the flesh as he brings you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night.

The older man makes you see stars. You’ve never felt this way before—not during the late, lonely nights under your covers.

The pressure inside you builds, and your pornographic sounds become louder. The squelching of your cunt nearly rivals your moans. “Fuck, you gonna come, honey? Gonna make a mess on Daddy’s hand?” Ari asks, his words coaxing you towards that brink.

You topple over and cry out, dripping hole clenching around nothing. As if your body is a separate entity that belongs to him, you involuntarily nod your head at Ari’s question.

“Shit. That’s it. Such a good girl,” he praises, the words going to straight to your head and making you smile through your pleasure-filled haze. You grip onto the expensive bedsheets and ride out your climax, grinding on Ari’s hand until the nerves of your clit become oversensitive.

Ari, unable to hold back anymore, pulls his fingers away and admires how they glisten with your slick. The sweet scent of your cunt fills the room, and he has the overwhelming urge to make you come apart on his mouth. But that has to wait for now.

The mob boss places his wet digits inside of his mouth, revelling in your taste. He makes a show of it, too, knowing you can see him in the mirrors that are in headboard of his bed. The sight his lewd—enough to make you throb in need and get wetter with want.

There’s a small voice in your head that sounds exactly like you. It tells you that this was never a part of the deal, that Ari shouldn’t be doing this. You find it difficult to listen to its reasoning, too clouded by lust.

You watch as Ari reaches for the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it so harshly that it breaks. In just a few seconds, he tears the fabric from your body. You gasp at the display of strength, not even having the chance to bid farewell to the dress.

Your nipples pebble from the cold air, and they rub against the bedsheets, sending a wave of euphoria through your body. “Daddy… Please,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together as your desperation for something grows.

“I got ya, baby. Daddy’s here,” Ari shushes you, mildly slurring his words. You barely even register that this is the first time Ari has seen you naked. In fact, he never should be seeing you naked.

Ari marvels at your body, although this isn’t the first time he has done so. You’re just so gorgeous, he can’t help himself.

The mob boss begins to undress himself, not caring open the buttons that fly as the fabric stretches against his toned muscles. The velvet suit—one of Ari’s favourites, which he can always get another of—ends up on the floor. The tendrils of hair fall from the gelled style he originally had, framing is face to make the man look more rugged than usual.

He pulls down the zipper to his pants and frees his hard, thick cock from the confines of his boxers. Ari gives himself a few strokes, letting a few beads of pre-cum drip onto your ass.

You arch your back just a bit, giving the older man better access and a better view of what’s his. Ari slaps his fat tip against your leaky hole, sliding it through your folds as he teases you. When he reaches your sensitive nub, your muscles twitch slightly.

You maintain a steady hold on the sheets, bracing yourself for the intrusion. You’ve had sex before, but it was so long ago and an experience that you gained nothing from. You’re always too busy to properly treat yourself. You can imagine that this’ll feel like your first time—only better.

“You feel that, baby? Hm?” the older man asks, bending over you. One of his strong arms is near your head, used as leverage to hold himself up. “Uh-huh,” you moan, feeling how Ari’s hard cock rubs against your pussy. *He’s so big—just like the rest of him.

“S’all for you, honey. You have no idea what you do to me,” he grunts, sliding his cock back to your hole. Before you can respond, Ari begins to push into your cunt, stretching you out slowly. You breathe through the entirety of the ordeal, moaning at the intrusion and the sheer filth of it all.

When Ari finally bottoms out, his heavy balls are flush against your clit. His dick is deep inside you—you feel so full. You take a few moments to adjust to his thickness, getting up onto your forearms so that you can look at Ari.

You tilt your head upwards and make eye contact with the mob boss. His usually blue eyes are blown out with lust—a dark look to him that you’ve never seen before. Ari leans over you even more, his cock still deep inside your wet pussy.

His dominant hands moves towards your neck, and he wraps his hand around your throat after shifting upwards, almost as if he’s holding your jaw. The action frightens you, but you feel no pressure being put on your airway.

It’s the control. The fact that you’re his, and he can do anything he’d like to you.

Before you can say anything, Ari begins to fuck you. He pushes and pulls his cock in and out of you. The mob boss hits your g-spot with expertise and turns you into a moaning, pathetic mess. Ari watches you intently, never once breaking eye contact as your mouth drops open in pleasure.

Your sounds are pornographic. You don’t have a moment to feel shameful about them, though. The noises that come from his skin slapping against yours is loud. So is the squelching of your sopping cunt.

“Daddy—so deep!” you cry out, going limp in his hold. It’s as if you can feel him in your guts. You babble like a baby, making Ari chuckle. He’s dreamt of this moment for so long, and it’s better than he could ever imagine. “Yeah? Wait ‘til I try that pretty mouth a’ yours,” he whispers in your ear, biting the lobe.

The thought of Ari fucking your face creates a lewd picture in your mind. You’ve never thought about it before, but the way you pussy squeezes his cock tells Ari what you think of the idea. Even if, deep down, you didn’t the mob boss to fuck your face, he would still get what he wants.

“Shit,” you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. The older man pummels into your relentlessly, practically abusing your cunt. Ari’s dick is coated in your slick, the smell of it and sweat filling the room. “This cunt’s cryin’ on my cock—you gonna cry, too, princess?”

You don’t really register what Ari is saying, so you just nod your head like the obedient girl you are. “Good girl—always such a good slut for Daddy,” he groans, looking down to admire how your ass ripples when his pelvis slaps against the soft flesh.

You cry out as Ari pumps into you relentlessly. You can feel the euphoria build up, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “‘S so much, Daddy…” you express through your moans, fuelling Ari’s ego. “Yeah? You gonna come all over Daddy’s fat cock, baby?” the mob boss asks.

Nodding your head, you topple over the edge of your climax. Your sounds become choked and grow even louder. Your pussy squeeze Ari’s dick, creaming around his hardness as you come undone. Ari marvels at the sight.

Your eyes squeeze shuts and your hold onto the bed sheets tightly. You’ve never felt such pleasure before—even at your own hands. It’s like Ari knows your body—and your entire being—better than you do.

“That’s it. Good girl, ” Ari growls, admiring how your leaky pussy just swallows his dick. The arch in your back is mean, but he loves it. He loves watching you take it. His once-innocent princess is now the older man’s whore. All his, forever.

The stars in your eyes dissipate as you ride out your high, coming down from it slowly but surely. It’s hard, though, as Ari is relentless in how in pounds into your cunt. “Who owns this pussy, honey? Hm?” Ari asks. He can feel his own orgasm building up, and he knows he cannot hold back any longer.

“You! S’all yours, Daddy. ‘M yours,” you mewl, and as if on cue, Ari shoves his hips forwards and he stills his movements. His heavy balls clench as he leans forward, completely covering your body with his. Ari holds onto you tightly, filling your pussy with his cum.

Ropes of his seed shoot from his tip and coat your inner walls, filling you to the brim until some of it leaks past his fat cock. He gives a few thrusts just to tease you, smiling when you whimper from the stimulation.

It’s so damn messy where the two of you are connected. Ari has the desire to clean you up, but he knows that your sweet-self wouldn’t be able to handle all that in one night. At least, for now.

When the older man finally catches his breath, he slowly pulls out of your pussy. A trail of his cum follows, leaking out and mixing with your juices. He rolls you onto your side gently, laying down next to you as he watches your face intently.

You have no clue what to say. You can’t even begin to wrap your head around what happened, especially as the haze doesn’t seem to leave any time soon.

A few moments of silence pass. Ari’s hand rubs up and down your arm, moving upwards to cup your cheek again. He drinks in very detail of your face and you watch him, too, just not with the same intensity.

“D– Daddy?” you quietly say, and his ears perk up. “Yeah, baby?” Ari responds. “What now?” you question. Where do you go from here?

“Well… I think you should get some rest,” he starts, sighing deeply and he seemingly fights back a yawn. You agree, but that’s not what you meant. “I’ll get you cleaned up, don’t worry,” the mob boss assures you.

“What about the deal?” you continue.

More silence, and the sound of Ari clearing his throat. The deepness of his voice remains as he speaks.

“I think I may have to extend it, honey,” he honestly tells you, words heavy with disappointment. You don’t really know what to think—you have no reaction, save for the small nod you give him. You’ve come to realize that whatever Ari wants, he gets. And he’s so damn greedy.

You drift off to sleep slowly, accepting your fate even though it was too late the moment you resigned and stepped into his office a month ago. It could be worse, you could be dead, you reassure yourself.

Ari stares at the ceiling and thinks about how time can fly. Soon, those promised months will turn into a year, and then even more. Just like he planned—just how it’s supposed to be.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #dark ari levinson #dark!ari levinson #dark ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #smut #lemon #dark #au #fic #series #chris evans #the red sea diving resort

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santacoppelia · 10 months

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Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #narrative analysis #character analysis #the metatron #and a casual Hamlet quote #just because I love Hamlet

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starfinss · 2 months

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ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇᴀᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇʟᴜꜱɪɴᴇꜱ — ᴡʀɪᴏᴛʜᴇꜱʟᴇʏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Genshin Impact

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Wriothesley + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 12,925

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After beginning work as a doctor at the Fortress of Meropide, Siegwinne decides you and the Duke are a good match, and will do anything in her power to get you to together, even if she has to take drastic measures.

Or, alternatively, Siegwinne adds a little something extra to the Duke's tea. Chaos ensues.

As soon as the suture needle so much as touched the man sitting before you, he was already flinching away.

“That hurts!” He cried, “please, doctor, be gentle with me.”

It was almost laughable, really. Monsieur Phillip was a hardened criminal, or so you’d been told. He was a career criminal, you remembered the Duke remarking, and he’d been sentenced to serve time in the Fortress of Meropide for a myriad of things, such as assault, and even attempted murder, but here he was, a hulking mass of a man, whimpering in pain at the slightest prick of a needle.

“Hush,” you said, tutting gently, “the quicker I start, the quicker it’s over. Now hold still.”

He flinched back again, eyeing the needle like it was out to get him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please try and relax. I can assure you, I did go to medical school.”

Before he could say anything else, you made the first stitch, carefully, but quickly enough so as not to cause him too much pain. Even with the numbing gel you’d applied, it seemed that the patient’s pain threshold was quite low. It usually removed enough sensation that any leftover pain would be no more than a pinch, but even with that, you could see tears beading at his lash line.

A hardened criminal, indeed.

You finished the sutures quickly before bandaging the injured shoulder and giving Phillip some care instructions.

“And,” you said, “no more getting into altercations about work times, okay?”

Phillip sighed, casting his eyes away from you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled, kindly. “That’s doctor to you.”

It wasn’t wholly unexpected. Men tended to have lower pain tolerances than women did. You’d given stitches to many people before, and when it came to whining, the men tended to be the most common offenders.

After Phillip left, you checked up on a woman who was resting in one of the infirmary beds, and after taking her temperature and walking away with your clipboard, you nearly tripped over Siegwinne, who had somehow snuck into your path without you noticing.

“Archons,” you exclaimed, a hand flying over your heart, “I need to put a bell on you.”

Siegwinne ignored your remark. “May I see the patient’s chart?”

You handed it to her. “The patient shows signs of improvement. Her fever has broken, and her delirium has started to clear up. She should make a full recovery.”

Siegwinne hummed meaningfully. “Very good. I was worried about that one. I am glad to hear she is healing well.”

You nodded, then turned, starting towards your desk, but before you could make it, Siegwinne called your name, making you pause.

“Yes?”

Her expression remained impassive, eyes curious, unsuspecting, and she tucked the clipboard under her arm as she closed the distance between you.

“Have you seen the Duke today?”

There it was. You didn’t know what you’d been expecting aside from this. Ever since Siegwinne had caught onto the fact that you’d developed a crush on the Duke, she’d tried to do everything in her power to set you up with him. In the beginning, that was all it was. A crush. It was a crush in the same way one would develop an infatuation with a colleague or schoolmate, based on their appearance or the limited positive interactions they had with them. It was no secret that Wriothesley was an attractive man. He was tall, and handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. You’d heard the whispers among female inmates and guards alike. You were not unique in feeling some form of attraction to him.

But to Siegwinne, your silly crush was an opportunity.

“You’re a good woman,” she told you, “and His Grace is always stressed. I fear for his health. I think you would be the right person to keep him company. You are a good match. Your influence and affection would do him much good.”

Siegwinne came to you with this a few months after you’d started work at the Fortress, completely out of nowhere, stunning you to silence. You had no idea how she’d caught on to your feelings, and when you expressed as much, she went into a rambling tangent about human behavior, something about the dilation of pupils, and how she’d been taking notes, and that was when you cut her off.

“Absolutely not.”

But nevertheless, she persisted.

Siegweinne’s matchmaking attempts rarely ended conclusively, since she tended to see things as a logical cause and effect, and did not at all fit the way any normal human would attempt to court another. They mostly involved putting you and Wriothesley into situations that forced you to speak or interact with one another, with little to no regard to how much said situations were an inconvenience to you. Her first attempt, as such, embarrassingly enough, involved telling the Duke you’d had some kind of accident with an inmate, and when he came to the infirmary to check in, finding you unharmed and working at your desk, all that ensued was a lot of confusion. You wondered why he’d come all that way to see you, and he was surprised to find you not laying on one of the infirmary beds.

But, what her attempts did do, was make the way you felt about Wriothesley, which was no more than a passing fancy at first, grow into something more.

And despite your best efforts, that only made Siegwinne latch on even harder.

“Hello?” Siegwinne said, shaking you from your thoughts, “I believe it is polite to answer a question when asked one, or have human customs changed?”

You brushed off her unintentional rudeness, instead answering what she’d asked you.

“No,” you said, “I have not seen His Grace today. He’s a busy man, Siegwinne. You know that.”

“Well, you should go see him.”

You sighed, leaning down to take your clipboard from under her arm, then crossing to your desk.

“I don’t have a reason to go see him,” you said, sitting down, “and like I said, His Grace is a busy man.”

She didn’t push after that, simply going back to work as you did yours, and you tried to put it out of your mind. You and Wriothesley were friends, you’d say. Even though you usually found yourselves meeting in less than normal circumstances, you were still fond of him. You enjoyed his frank, matter-of-fact personality, and dry sense of humor, and he seemed to enjoy your company as well. Your relationship was as casual as it could be between you and a man who was technically your boss, and friendly enough that you had conversations outside of work related matters. You’d never let Siegwinne know this, but her repeated and clumsy attempts at setting you up were not without some benefits.

That was fine, you supposed. You’d bonded over Siegwinne and her antics, and built a friendship over a shared love of tea, as well as an author you both enjoyed, among other common interests. But that was it. As much as Siegwinne, and, begrudgingly, you, would like to say otherwise, you and The Duke were only friends.

And, it seemed, as you settled into that fact quite comfortably, Siegwinne only grew more brazen in her attempts at Melusine style matchmaking.

Her latest attempt involved trying to shut you in a locked room with The Duke, which failed when Wriothesley produced the master key in order to open the door. It happened a little over a week ago, which made you nervous, because Siegwinne didn’t like letting too much time pass between her less than gentle shoves. You were almost completely certain that Wriothesley knew what was happening, he’d have to be stupid not to, though he hadn’t said anything about it. This was probably to spare you from any further embarrassment, which you appreciated.

The situation was hopeless. You knew that well. But Siegwinne didn’t, and that was beginning to become a problem. You didn’t know why you’d let her get away with this for the handful of months that you had, but maybe, deep down, you hoped that something would actually come from all her meddling.

And apart from that, you had a certain degree of professionalism to uphold. Wriothesley was your boss, and you were both his employee and his doctor. As much as you found yourself wishing otherwise, pursuing your feelings, even if that was an option, just wasn’t ethical.

But still, you could dream, you supposed. Dreaming was harmless.

“I need you to run an errand for me.”

You turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow at Siegwinne, who was staring over at you innocently, a thermos in her hands. You looked at it, then back at her, puzzled.

“Siegwinne, I’m not in the mood.”

She frowned. “To do your job? How unbecoming. I’m simply asking you to deliver this tea to the Duke. His Grace is suffering from a headache. I delivered some to him this morning, but the problem still persists.”

You glanced at the thermos again. “Tea? What’s in it?”

She immediately became defensive, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty for doubting her.

“Medicine!” She cried, “what do you take me for? I’ve brewed a painkiller into the tea. It should help with His Grace’s headache. If you don’t trust me, you can take a sip yourself.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why can’t you do it?”

Her brows pinched together in annoyance, and maybe a little indignance. “I have to go see a patient, thank you. A young man is complaining of nausea, and finds it hard to stand because of it, so I am going to see him in his cell. Now, will you bring His Grace the tea, or not?”

You sighed. In your own mind, your hesitance was completely justified. Siegwinne had tried to trick you into being alone with Wriothesley many times before this, but then again, if the Duke was actually feeling unwell, and you refused to bring him medicine, what kind of doctor would you be?

And so, you relented. With another sigh, you stood, snatching the thermos from Siegwinne’s outstretched hand.

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll be back as soon as I drop it off.”

If Siegwinne was disappointed by this, she hid it well. She simply nodded, then crossed over to her desk to busy herself with her medical bag. You glanced over a few more things at your own desk before scooping up the thermos and leaving the infirmary after calling a quick few words of parting to Siegwinne, who only nodded.

You shivered a little as you left the infirmary. Siegwinne tended to keep it warmer there, with a space heater sitting in the corner to combat the cold dampness of the rest of the Fortress of Meropide. It was better for the patients, she said, if they had somewhere nice and warm to rest and recover. You were fairly certain she also said something about humans and their preference for warmth, but that wasn’t important at present.

The clang of your boots against the metal floors rang out as you walked, head held high, thermos in your grip. The air smelled of iron and brine, a scent you’d grown used to in the time you’d been working in the Fortress. Artificial light cast everything in a sort of ominous hue, and the low strength of it left everything in partial shadow. It used to make you nervous, not knowing what hid behind them, using them like masks. Now you knew that whatever was waiting for you was something you could handle.

You glanced down at the thermos in your hands. It was warm, likely just brewed. There was no way Siegwinne would have you serve the Duke cold tea. The thermos was plain; unassuming. It was slate gray, probably stainless steel. You turned it over in your hands, studying it. It was just tea. You had no reason to think it was anything other than that. But with Siegwinne, you’d learned to expect the unexpected.

Absently, you stepped into the elevator to take you down to the administrative floor. The car jerked, and with a mechanical clank, began to move. You turned the thermos over in your hands again. It’s just tea. For the Duke. Your poor, ailing boss. You twisted your mouth. It was fine. There was no way Siegwinne would ever do anything to actually harm Wriothesley. You tapped your nails against the surface of the thermos, almost jumping from your skin when the elevator came to an abrupt stop as it reached its destination, jostling you where you stood and ejecting you from your tangled thoughts.

You sighed as you left the elevator, tucking the thermos into your arms and against your chest. Everything was fine. If Siegwinne took anything seriously, it was health. You’d caught her staring intently at you on many occasions, and when you asked her about it, she told you she was making sure you were healthy, in a very matter-of-fact tone, like it was obvious. She may be odd, but she wasn’t going to try and harm anyone.

As you reached the doors to the Duke’s office, you reached into the pocket of your skirt, digging out the key to the lock. Because of the Fortress’s status as a prison, it was only natural that important areas such as the office of the warden would remain locked. The only way to get in was if you had a key or if you were invited by Wriothesley himself. There was also the off chance that the Duke left the doors unlocked, but that was uncommon. Regardless, before you put the key in the lock, you raised your hand, knocking on the door with a great clang.

“Your Grace?” you called, though it was unlikely he heard you through the thick steel, “I’ll be coming in now. I have some tea for you.”

And with that, you pushed the key into place, twisting. With a grunt of effort, you pushed the doors open.

It was as you were opening the door that you heard him, calling to you. It was muffled under the mechanical clank of the doors, making you only vaguely aware of his call of your name, and you hurried to close the door to answer him. The lock clicked as you did, signifying that the mechanism had reset to its previous locked state.

You expected Wriothesley to call out to you again after your lack of response, or even possibly to come see you. It was unlikely that Siegwinne would send you on an errand without previously announcing your arrival. But instead, you were met with silence. You gripped the thermos more tightly, hesitating.

“Your Grace?”

You heard something else then. A soft intake of breath, only able to be heard because of the complete lack of noise, save for the quiet hum of machinery from beyond the doors. Then, you could hear him clearing his throat.

“Yes,” you heard Wriothsley say, from up the stairs, “up here.”

You sighed, relieved, as you made your way up the curving staircase and into the main office.

And as for things you expected to see, this was not among them.

Wriothesley was sitting at his desk, but he looked more than a little disheveled. His coat had been discarded, draped over the back of his chair, and his tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck. His waistcoat was also unbuttoned, as were the top two buttons of the dress shirt he wore underneath the garment. His gloves had also been removed, laying out on his desk beside an empty teacup. His hair was tousled, more than usual, and his face…

You furrowed your brows, suddenly concerned. His face was flushed, a deep pink settled in the apples of his cheeks, very evident against his usually pale skin. Breath, feather soft, expelled itself through parted lips, almost too quickly, as he looked over at you, brows pinching together, as if pained or troubled before the expression calmed. Wriothesley straightened, clearing his throat again, and he was hurriedly fixing his clothing, deft fingers doing up the buttons of his shirt, smoothing back over his hair.

His eyes fell to the thermos in your hands, lingering, before sliding up to your face.

You stared at him, your concern growing more by the second, and after a beat, you crossed to the desk, setting the thermos down.

“Your Grace,” you said, “I’ve brought you painkillers for your headache, but you look… May I examine you? You do not look like you’re feeling well.”

“Examine me,” he repeated, then took a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut before shaking his head, as if clearing away a fog. He swallowed, raking a hand through his hair, and it was then that you spotted sweat beading on his forehead.

“Yes,” you said, gently, already in doctor mode, “please, let me help.”

He cleared his throat, for what was probably the third time, and you narrowed your eyes. You were rapidly beginning to get suspicious in addition to concerned. There was something he wasn’t telling you. Absently, you found yourself mentally scolding yourself for neglecting to bring your medical bag.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he certainly didn’t look fine, “please, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve come all this way for me, so would you at least sit with me for a cup of tea?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. It was fine, though, you supposed. Staying around wasn’t a terrible idea. It would give you a chance to more closely study the Duke’s behavior, and try and figure out what the problem might be. And so, you stepped to the table off to the side, picking a clean tea cup from the collection displayed there.

“I don’t need any, really,” you said as you leaned over to take the thermos from the desk, “Siegwinne made this for you, for your head. I am happy to sit and talk with you, though, if you want me to.”

Wriothesley smiled easily. “If you like, I can brew you a cup from my personal collection of teas. What do you like?”

You flushed, feeling special, and you turned to busy yourself with arranging his cup of tea to hide the pink in your cheeks.

“You already know my preferences, Your Grace,” you said, over your shoulder, “just a cup of earl gray is fine.”

You heard shuffling, then the sound of a drawer being pulled open, and you knew the Duke was rifling through the collection of teas he kept stored in his desk. Shifting your focus, you removed the small travel cup attached to the top of the thermos, then unscrewed the lid. Immediately, you were hit with the scent of the tea. It was unexpectedly sweet, and sort of floral. It certainly wasn’t the Duke’s usual style, that was for sure. You took another lungful of it, and could make out notes of various medicinal herbs, including rosemary and feverfew, both known to help with headaches. You could also smell a hint of lavender. But there was still that floral, sort of rosy scent, undercut by the bitter, citrus aroma of the feverfew. It smelled a bit like rainbow roses; of petrichor and morning dew and sweet fresh petals. It certainly had herbs in it, some of which were known to help with what the Duke needed, but the combination of them that you were able to discern was puzzling to say the least.

You put it out of your mind, chalking up the roses to being there to help with the bitterness of the feverfew. With a sigh, you poured the steaming liquid into the teacup. It was sort of a deep rouge color, bordering on purple. A nice color, you decided, and not entirely unexpected with what was contained in the tea. You placed the cup on a saucer, then carried it, alongside the still half filled thermos over to the desk, setting them before the Duke. In exchange, he handed you the tea bag you’d requested, which you accepted gladly.

After you’d filled a cup with boiling water, which the Duke always seemed to have on hand in any nearby kettle, ready for a quick cup. You added the tea bag, as well as a few spoonfuls of sugar, then took your seat on the couch by the tea table.

Wriothesley’s face twisted as he took the first sip from his cup, seemingly troubled.

“It’s very sweet.”

You tilted your head. “Is it not to your liking? I’ll be sure to tell Siegwinne to tweak the recipe.”

Wriothesley waved a dismissive hand. “No,” he said, “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not my usual style, but I don’t dislike it.”

You nodded meaningfully, blowing over your tea once more.

“How are things over in the infirmary?” He asked, and you sat up straighter, engaged.

“Fine. The usual. I had a man who was scared of needles just before I came over,” you said, “I’d barely touched him before he was telling me to stop.”

Wriothesley laughed, amused. He took another swallow of tea.

“Oh, really?” He said, “Monsieur Phillip, I suspect? That man always gets into brawls, but is terrified of medical treatment. And he never wins those brawls. The gardes always have to pull the other guy off of him.”

You hid your smile behind your teacup. “I know,” you said, “Siegwinne is always scolding him when he comes in for being reckless.”

Wriothesley rested his head on a closed fist, thoughtful, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Maybe a few rounds in the Pankration Ring would do him some good,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t go putting any ideas in his head,” you said, “he might become a permanent resident of the infirmary if he starts entering into any matches.”

Wriothesley made a face, pale blue eyes moving to rest somewhere in the depths of his teacup. “Maybe he’d pick up a few things about proper combat, though.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Maybe, but at the cost of his health.”

You enjoyed this. It was hardly the first time you’d been invited to stay for tea, in addition to being personally invited to tea a handful of times before. Wriothesley’s presence was pleasant and inviting, despite his intimidating stature and appearance. His height dwarfed many other people, and you’d seen few as tall as he was, save for the Iudex, who was far more slim than the Duke was. Where Monsieur Neuvillette was tall and lithe, Wriothesley was broad and powerfully built. His sheer size alone, made only more prominent by the bulky coat he wore around his shoulders, was enough to intimidate anyone.

But despite that, he was an amicable and good-humored man, earnest and straightforward. He made you feel at ease, and your growing affection for him settled low and warm in the spot behind your heart.

His face was getting more pink, you noticed, with a start. You took another sip of tea, watching him closely. His brow furrowed, just briefly, and he was fiddling with the bands of leather around his throat, as if they were suddenly too tight. He shifted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Your Grace?” You said, and he seemed to snap out of whatever had overtaken him, regarding you with raised eyebrows and an expectant expression.

“Sorry,” he said, “what were you saying?”

You studied him, eyes narrowed, and he laughed, a little awkwardly.

“You’re doing that thing Siegwinne does,” he said, “the thing she does with her eyes. I don’t know how you replicated it so perfectly. There’s nothing wrong, I promise. It’s just suddenly kind of hot in here. Do you feel that?”

You shook your head. In fact, to you, the room was cold. Just as cold as the rest of the Fortress, save for the infirmary. It was the reason for the thermal lining in the pale blue overcoat of your uniform, the color that marked you as medical staff, as well as the reason for the thicker uniform fabric worn by the majority of the other general staff.

“No,” you said, and Wriothesley looked puzzled.

“Oh,” he muttered, puzzled, “I was warm earlier, but I’m starting to get… hot now. I don’t suppose that’s normal?”

You cracked a smile at that. “No, I don’t think so.”

A spell of silence passed before your mind snapped back to what he’d just said.

“You were feeling overly warm earlier? When did that start?”

Wriothesley furrowed his brows, considering your question before answering. He took another sip from his cup, then poured more of the contents of the thermos into it.

“This morning,” he said, “I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was maybe shortly after I had a cup of tea.”

You snorted, amused. “You realize how little that narrows it down, don’t you? You drink more tea than anyone I know, Your Grace. I need a measure of time, not cups of tea.”

He chuckled at that. “I apologize. I believe it was after Siegwinne delivered the tea she made for my head. Which is feeling much better, by the way. I think what I’ve been drinking while we’ve been chatting has helped kick the rest of it. I’m almost finished with the thermos.”

Suddenly, you made the connection.

Almost robotically, and with learned efficiency, you went over the contents that you’d smelled in the tea, along with their uses. Feverfew, maybe some lavender, and rosemary. All of those had various uses, though they all had one thing in common, which was pain relief. Finally, there was the rainbow rose. The petals and buds were used for medicinal purposes, and could be used as such, similarly to common red roses, for anything ranging from headaches to a sore throat.

Something was missing. Something was wrong. The scent itself had been off.

“The tea,” you said, “from before. Was it sweet?”

Wriothesley nodded, taking another gulp, and finally, pouring the last of the contents of the thermos into the cup. “This brew is sweeter, though.”

You stood, then reached for his teacup, bringing it to your nose and inhaling. You caught the same things as before, but as you mulled them over, something else clicked.

Siegwinne wouldn’t. Would she?

“It’s really hot,” Wriothesley said, and you could see the sweat beaded at his hairline, sticking the hair at his temples to his skin, cresting down his cheekbone.

You reached out, and when the back of your hand made contact with his burning forehead, he flinched, making a soft sound in surprise and alarm.

“Why is your skin so much colder than mine?”

Your skin wasn’t cold. In fact, your body was at an average temperature, kept warm by the layers of clothing you were wearing. By your own assessment, your hands were probably relatively warm. You frowned, reaching into your pocket and withdrawing your penlight, circling the desk to situate yourself closer to the Duke.

The way he was looking at you when you drew closer was strange. Almost hungry. Famished, ice blue hues swept over your form, and you watched as his hands, previously resting on the desk, folded in front of him, over his lap.

You moved closer, leaning halfway over to him, hand making contact with his face to tilt it towards you. He flinched at your touch, breath shuddering, and you studied his eyes closely before muttering a warning and shining your light into his face, instructing him to follow the light with his gaze.

“This isn’t… necessary,” he protested, weakly, and you ignored him. His pupils were blown wide, dark pits in the center of the sky blue of his irises.

“Mydriasis,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him as you switched off your light and pocketed it.

Your hand dropped from his face to just under where his jaw met his throat. You pushed aside the leather straps, just enough to access his pulse point, pressing two fingers to the spot. His heart was racing, quick and erratic, and you felt him shudder, breath heavy, his jaw setting tightly as your hands drifted across his skin, probing and searching. His skin was burning with heat, feverishly so, and coupled with the elevated heart rate, the blown pupils, and the way he seemed to flinch whenever you made contact with his skin directly, you could only make one conclusion.

“So,” you said, backing up to stand up straight, “this started after you had the first brew Siegwinne dropped off, yes?”

Wriothesley nodded. “It did.”

His voice. It had dropped several octaves in the time you’d been examining him, and you cursed the effect it had on you, coursing hot through your bloodstream. It felt so deeply unprofessional for a doctor to even think of her patient in the way the brief thoughts that fluttered through your mind suggested you do.

“Is it worse after this second batch?” You forced yourself to say.

He huffed a laugh. “You could say that.”

And it was then when you noticed, from where you were standing, that Wriothesley’s belt was undone. Rosy hues colored your cheeks as you yanked your gaze away.

“You need to tell me all of your symptoms,” you said, “spare no detail.”

Panic briefly flashed across his face as he crossed and uncrossed his legs.

“Hot,” he said, “I feel far too warm. Do I have a fever?”

You narrowed your eyes. He was purposely hiding the truth, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Yes,” you said, “but I believe it’s because your body is overheated and not because you're fighting an infection. I just said not to leave anything out, Your Grace, please tell me everything. As your doctor, I–”

“I’m… Archons, I don’t want to say it,” he paused, searching, almost frantically for something else to focus on. “What was in that tea?”

You swallowed, leaning back to rest against the desk.

“Herbs,” you said, “rosemary, feverfew, and lavender. All meant to help with pain and headaches. But I could also smell rainbow roses.”

Wriothesley brightened. “Yes, I thought that was what I tasted. It brings such a unique flavor to the table, don’t you agree?”

You fought a smile, endeared by him, but now was hardly the time. You needed to figure out what was wrong with him, not to discuss tea.

“Yes,” you said, “but it was strange. Too sweet. It only gets to that level when the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose are included alongside the powdered roots of a rainbow rose, in which case the combination can make–”

Oh. Oh.

As you were talking, it clicked into place. The scent, which you’d thought was much too sweet before, suddenly made sense. Sumeru rose must have been the final ingredient. It was flavorless when consumed, but smelled quite sweet. When combined with rainbow roses, the scent of the two grew overpoweringly saccharine. Unless diluted, it would almost resemble a syrup. If the rainbow rose petals were boiled alongside the powdered roots of the Sumeru rose, it could become a powerful medicine able to soothe a bad cough. But if the roots of both plants were powdered, the results were…

You cursed yourself for being so stupid. Of course, Siegwinne would see nothing wrong with this. Medicine was medicine, regardless of what the outcome of its ingestion spelled, so long as it got the desired result. To her, the suggestion of something unbecoming would be taken with great offense.

“‘Can make?’” Wriothesley supplied, and were already imagining the ways in which you were going to rip Siegwinne a new one.

“I need your symptoms. Now. I am a doctor, Your Grace, I promise I will be as non judgemental as possible, just please–”

“Damn it,” he interjected, face hidden in his hands, “I’m aroused.”

Anything you’d just been about to say left your mind, swept away by dread, because you knew what was happening.

Siegwinne was evil. You could already picture her expectant, innocent face, asking just how her little ‘experiment’ had gone, and it filled you with boiling rage.

Though, there was also the fact that she could simply be misinformed. Melusines had different reactions to some medicines than humans did, and it was equally possible that she simply thought that, if dosed with the tea, the Duke’s feelings for you, if he had any, would just be made more prominent. For her sake, you hoped it was the latter.

“Aroused,” you parroted, trying hard to stay professional and failing miserably, because this was unethical on so many levels, “tell me more about that.”

He made a strangled, startled sound. “You want to know more?”

You wanted to melt into the floor. “I need to know how strong the dose you’ve been given is.”

“Dose?!” He said, “of what?”

You refused to look at him. “When mixed together, the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose and a rainbow rose create a powerful aphrodisiac. I believe the first dose you received was a weaker version, and this one is much stronger.”

Silence followed as Wriothesley took in the information, then cleared his throat.

“Do you have an antidote?”

You raised your head to look at him properly. He looked almost haggard, the flush from his face creeping down his neck.

“There… kind of isn’t one.”

Wriothesley made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat, hands raising to card through his hand, and it was then that you noticed it. Now that his hands were no longer hiding it, you could see it, there, outlined against the dark fabric of his slacks.

He was hard.

A wave of suffocating, shameful arousal washed over you, and you forced yourself to look away, to ignore it.

You could only begin to imagine how he was feeling. The way you were feeling was nothing compared to him, his condition undoubtedly much more intense than your own physical reaction in response to his arousal, and you could feel his eyes on you as you scrambled to find a solution.

“What am I going to do then?” He asked, “it’s getting… I’m sorry, It’s getting rather unbearable. I tried everything. It’s impossible to ignore, and I know I can’t use my hands.”

You spared him a glance. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, “I was already trying that. It wasn’t enough.”

Oh. The unbuckled belt. His disheveled state when you’d walked in. He’d already been dealing with the effects of the first dose, or at least attempting to. The call of your name, as you were entering the office. The silence before he summoned you up to the second floor.

Fuck. He’d been thinking of you.

That had to be one of the hottest things you’d ever heard, professionalism be damned. Arousal rolled over you like a breaking wave, making you bite into your lower lip.

You knew what needed to happen. You knew the effects of this particular drug would take, and you knew that the only way to relieve his symptoms was either to very painfully wait it out or to… find relief. In this case, that entailed another person.

“You need to have sexual intercourse,” you said, “or you can wait it out.”

Wriothesley cleared his throat. “Wait it out,” he said, “right, I can do that. How long will that take?”

You twisted your hands together. “It… depends. You were likely given a pretty strong dose, even for someone your size. By my estimate, it would probably take several hours for it to work its way out of your system.”

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. “Great.”

You cleared your throat. “Do you have someone I could… call? A girlfriend?”

He snorted, as if amused by the idea. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

That would make sense, you supposed, if he was calling out your name, and not the name of another woman.

“We both know what Siegwinne is doing,” Wriothesley said, “not just with this, but for the past few months. I can’t pretend I’m not fond of you, and neither of us can pretend there isn’t something between us.”

It was like the ground dropped out from under you at the sheer brazenness of his admission. You stared at him, thunderstruck.

“You… what?”

A cavalcade of thoughts crashed together as you rapidly attempted to process what he meant by that, but he barely gave you any time before he started speaking again.

“Look,” he said, “if you don’t feel the same, I can accept that. I’ll wait it out, and we can pretend this never even happened. But if you do, are you even… slightly interested in um… helping me? Because honestly, I feel like I’m about to explode.”

Heat coiled low in your stomach, threatening to overtake you as the lovely rasp of his voice made any of your logical thoughts close to meaningless. This was so vastly unprofessional. He was your boss, and you were his doctor. But something dangerously close to want was settling neatly over that space you usually reserved, that you looked to for reassurance about your professional standing with the Duke, to tell you that your feelings for him, ever growing, were improper.

And when you turned, watching his face, the way his hungry gaze traced your body through your uniform, something in you snapped, and you threw caution to the wind.

Head lowered, face flushed, you swallowed your rationality and any remaining hesitance you had left.

“I suppose,” you said, “I could use my hands.”

Wriothesley’s body jolted in anticipation, and his eyes betrayed his hesitance, darkened to steel blue with lust as he nodded once, then once more.

“Hands,” he repeated, “yes, hands are good. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

You found it touching that he was at least trying to take your comfort into account, even when he was drowning in desire, and you took a slow step forward as he shifted, pulling his chair out enough to allow you room to situate yourself on the floor in front of him. As you took another step, he took his coat from the back of his chair and laid it at his feet, another gesture you appreciated.

Once you reached him, you knelt down between his thighs, and he watched you with burning eyes, flinching when your palms smoothed over his clothed thighs, jaw tightening. Medical curiosity echoed briefly in the back of your mind, taking note of just how sensitive the drug had made him to the simplest of touches, how he shivered as your nails grazed against the insides of his strong thighs.

Fuck, he was radiating heat. So much so that it was beginning to affect you, and you shifted back on your knees to remove the overcoat layer of your uniform, leaving you in the blouse and underskirt beneath it. Wriothesley’s eyes followed your motions with rapt attention, and when you moved forward again, settling, you felt him jolt when your palm met his leg once again.

This close up, you could see it, just how much he was straining against his trousers, his erection pressed against his zipper, and hesitantly, you cupped it in your hand.

The Duke gasped at your touch, fingers twitching where he’d curled them around the armrests of his chair, then tightening in a white-knuckled grip as you ever-so-gently squeezed. He twitched against your palm, and you removed his belt entirely, dropping it to the floor with a clatter before you were unfastening his button and zipper.

You palmed him through the fabric of his underwear, and you could already feel how big he was just from that. A sort of eagerness threaded its way into the burn of your arousal as you pushed away any remaining layers, pulling him free.

Fuck. He was so thick, and when you slowly wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely met. He was long, too, though you supposed it made sense for a man of his size. He was flushed red, painfully hard, and when you squeezed, you felt him twitch once more, his body tightening like a coiled spring. His hands tightened their grip on the armrests, flexing, and you felt his hips shift forward, unconsciously.

The first stroke made his head roll back, the sound he let out one of relief, just from that simple touch alone. It made you squirm in place, the sound of his voice and the stricken hitch of his breath causing the desperation of his arousal to bleed into your own building need. Precum was beaded at his tip, and you almost wanted to lean forward to lap it up, especially as more leaked out in response to the way you were stroking him in slow, even movements.

Heavy breath expelled through clenched teeth, followed by a low, low groan as your thumb found his tip, rubbing in slow circles, and it was then that you leaned forward, giving into temptation as your tongue pressed to the underside of the head of his cock in a slow lick.

“Oh,” he gasped, “oh, you don’t have to– oh, fuck.”

He cut himself off as you lapped at his slit, groaning through his teeth. He was already completely lost to pleasure as you pumped the base of him, and when you took him into your mouth, sucking on the tip, you heard him curse, a sound drawn out with a low, decadent groan.

“You said your hands– oh!”

Arousal was settling low and smoldering hot in the pit of your stomach, pooling between your thighs, and you whined as he whispered your name. You released him from your mouth, hands moving to rest on his thighs, and you dragged your tongue up and along the underside of his dick, gathering up any precum that had dribbled down. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his slacks, lips grazing the side of his shaft, and he repeated your name, louder, voice twisted with an urgency that made your blood sing.

It was embarrassing, just how quick you’d gotten like this, punch drunk on the reactions he gave you, the way his body reacted to your touch. It filled you with an addicting sort of power, one that threatened to overtake you if you weren’t careful. But right then, all you wanted was to add fuel to the ever growing fire. And, with the way he was breathing, rough and ragged and broken, you doubted he’d be opposed to that.

Your tongue flicked out, against the fold of skin just below his tip, and he tensed, crying out helplessly. When you finally took him in your mouth, fully, his head fell back against his chair, a feral groan tearing itself from his throat as your tongue pressed firm against him. Your hand moved from his leg to encircle the base of him again, squeezing and stroking in tandem with the slow bob of your head, and making the Duke gasp at the sensations.

When you sucked, just a little, Wriothesley babbled a string of curses, hips twitching up towards your mouth, and when you ducked down, bobbing your head, one of his hands flew from the armrest to the back of your head. You thought he’d push, or maybe take control, but all he did was lace his fingers into your hair, unmoving. His body shuddered under the roll of your tongue, under the press of your free hand to his stomach, creeping under the layers of clothing covering him, his skin fever hot against your own.

You took him deeper, and he twitched, hips jumping as you hollowed out your cheeks, drawing back before surging forward once again. You relaxed your jaw further as his hips bucked, and he muttered an apology, breathless and feverish. His head pitched back as you rubbed your thumb against his base, and he twitched again, sharply. When you looked up at him, through your lashes, he was gazing down at you with hooded, burning eyes. There was desperation in his cool blue hues, a wordless plea for anything, everything you could give him.

And with everything you had, you delivered.

You dropped your jaw, swallowing as much of him as you can, drinking in the sound of his breath shuddering, tapering off into a low moan. You sped up, gradually, and the sounds he made were so madly erotic that you found yourself aching to reach between your thighs and take care of your own growing need, but you could hardly focus on anything apart from taking him as deep as possible without choking. The sheer girth of him was enough to make your jaw sore, and when you moved forward again, he hit the back of your throat, making tears catch in your lashes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, drawing the word out with the sound, long and low and you kneened around him, making him curse and buck.

The hand not tangled in your hair raised to his face, balling tight, and he bit down on his fist, stifling his uncontrolled cries of ecstasy, eyes squeezing shut, brows pinching in concentration. He was trembling beneath your touches, twitching against your tongue, and when you moved back to suck on the tip, slow and indolent, the noise that left his mouth was nothing short of pornographic.

“Yeah,” he seethed, voice breathy, needy, “fuck, yeah, don’t stop.”

Not a chance in hell you were doing that. You clamped your thighs together, squeezing around nothing, and you knew you were soaked, evident in the way your panties were sticking to your skin, your thighs tacky with sweat and the soak of your own arousal. Your hand curled into a fist where it rested on his stomach, then flattening once more and flexing, searching for anything to anchor yourself. When you took him into your mouth once more, fully, he bucked his hips, groaning with no regard for volume. He was close, teetering on that edge, evident from the way his grip on your hair grew tighter, the way you could feel the muscles in his stomach tensing, and when you took him deep and sucked, he moaned, long and low, the sound almost forced from his fraying lungs. The sensitivity had to be maddening, you decided, and you’d use that to your full advantage.

Slowly, you pulled back, lapping at the leaking tip, hand working tirelessly at the base of him, and you barely had any warning before he tipped over the edge, back arching, breath all but leaving him. You shifted back in surprise, reflexively, and cum painted itself across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the seam of your lips. You closed your eyes in an attempt to keep anything from getting into them before you were hurrying to take him in your mouth, sealing your lips around him. His hand was fisting in your hair, and the sound he made, a low, breathless groan, was one of sheer, debauched relief.

You sucked, and he let out an obscene moan as you swallowed down his cum, hips jerking, the hand previously fisted between his teeth flattening against the desk, palm slamming down, just once, and you heard the rasp of wood under fingernails as he moved to grip the edge.

You slowed, working him through the intensity of his orgasm, as he twitched and throbbed under your touch, the sheer volume of cum surprising you. It leaked from your mouth, down your chin, and you did your best to swallow as much of it as you could. He slumped, boneless, against his chair, and when you moved to clean him with your tongue, you got to listen to the delightful sound of him gasping from oversensitivity.

“Fuck,” you heard him say, dazed and utterly breathless, “fuck.”

Slowly, you drew back, and his eyes followed you, breath hitching and gaze darkening as he took in your appearance. The sight of you, knelt before him, covered in his cum, was enough to make him groan aloud, cheeks flaring pink.

“Archons,” he said, “that has to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, breathless chuckle.

“Do you have a rag or something?”

He nodded, once, and you stood on shaking legs before leaning sideways against the desk, and he pulled you closer, gently wiping your face clean with a tissue before depositing it in the trash situated under his desk.

“How do you feel?” You asked, and he huffed what may have been a laugh, nearly disbelieving.

“That was… Incredible. But I’m still, um…”

You crooked an eyebrow, watching him, expectantly.

He looked almost guilty. “I’m still hard.”

Oh. Oh.

You weren’t completely surprised. You didn’t know if a blowjob alone would be enough to work the drug from his system, and clearly, it wasn’t. Not that you minded. Your own arousal was a steady pulse below your skin, working like a second heartbeat. Desire coursed through you, and you pressed your thighs together once more. You wanted it. You already knew that. You wanted him.

“Alright,” you said, and what was left of any phantom of resolve, or the shreds of your until recently professional relationship with him all but vaporized, “sit back.”

“You don’t have to,” he started, the protest as fragile as glass, but you cut him off.

“I want to. I’ve… wanted this– you– for a while. So please, Your Grace– Wriothesley. I want it all. If you’ll have me.”

That was all it took. With a low, shuddering breath, a signal of his rapidly fraying restraint, he was yanking you forward and into his lap, his fingers working the buttons of your blouse open, hurriedly shucking it down your shoulders once undone. He made quick work of the ties fastening your skirt to your body, and you briefly shuffled off of him to drop it to the floor, along with your stockings, before resituating yourself on his lap.

“If I’ll have you?” He rumbled, the low, rough ombre of his voice sending prongs of lightning down your spine, and he yanked you closer, mouth dragging along the curve of your jaw.

“How could I possibly refuse?”

And then, for the first time, he was kissing you.

His lips were burning hot against yours, and your fingers found his hair, threading into messy locks, nails dragging against his scalp. He huffed a sigh into your lips as he nudged his tongue between them, tilting his head to slot his mouth more firmly against yours, and when his tongue dragged against yours, you moaned, low and soft, into his mouth. He kissed you slow and deep, almost a juxtaposition to the way he was feverishly running his hands, large and calloused, down your body, and when his fingers grazed over the patch of nerves just where your lowest rib met the curve of your waist, you shuddered in his hold.

You could taste the tea he’d been drinking on his tongue, cloyingly sweet, and it was almost too much when mixed with the heady, spiced smell of his cologne. Everything about him was overwhelming you in the best way possible, rendering you pliable and soft in his hands. Fuck, Wriothesley needed his own warning label. It was almost funny, really, just how riled up you were when he was the one who had been drugged with an aphrodisiac.

His teeth caught your lower lip as he drew back, tugging, before he was diving back in, hands planted firmly on your hips, and you let out a stuttering gasp as he pulled you forward, his bare cock pressing against your stomach.

The way he shuddered at the contact was enough to make your head spin with arousal, and when you shifted forward once more, just to see what he’d do, the grip on your hips grew to nearly bruising.

“You have no idea,” he husked, low and rough, the very threads of his sanity slipping from between his fingers, “how hard you’re making it to hold back.”

His words shot straight between your thighs, and you rolled your hips again, loving the way he stiffened. You felt his palm, dragging slowly up your body, then finally moving to cup your breast through the fabric of your bra, squeezing. You arched your chest into his touch, his name whisper soft on your lips.

He unfastened your bra after some fumbling, his coordination clearly beginning to become impacted by the drug. Once the garment was discarded, he barely gave you time to breathe, and you gasped when his head dipped down, mouth dragging across the valley of your breasts, skating along the side of one before his lips found one of your nipples, drawing it into the heat of his mouth.

He groaned at the taste of you, indulgent, as he laved his tongue over your flesh, hands sliding up to grip your waist, holding you in place, allowing him to explore the newly exposed skin with his mouth as much as he pleased. He was strong, his grip like iron, but it didn’t prevent you from slowly rocking your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare cock, and the way he groaned into your skin was a sound of delirious pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, almost disbelieving, “fuck, I’m a lucky man.”

His tender words made your heartbeat quicken, and you squeezed him closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt, and you quickly unfastened them, pushing the cloth away to smooth your palms over his bare skin. Gently, you pushed him back against the chair you were both situated in to look at him, and the sight before you was almost too much.

You already knew he was muscular, that much was obvious by just looking at him. But beneath his clothing, among thickly corded muscle was a patchwork of scarred flesh. You’d known about some scars; three of them crept up over the collar of his shirt, partially hidden by the straps he wore around his throat. There was also a collection of them on his arms, and of course, the one under his right eye. The ones that were hidden wove their way across his chest like a roadmap, some of them faint, and others more prominent, pale threads across his already pale skin. You laid your palm against him, tracing the one closest, and he shuddered, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. Your fingers skimmed down his chest, to his trim waist, and when your thumb caught in the deep v at his waist, he let out a soft grunt.

One of his hands moved from your waist to your hip, squeezing the plush flesh, then migrated to the apex of your thighs, and when his middle finger rubbed you through the sodden fabric of your panties, a high, breathy whine tore itself from your throat. He pressed harder, and your back arched, eyes falling half-lidded when he circled your clit through the fabric.

Then, without warning, he was pushing the cloth aside, and the feel of his calloused finger dragging across your entrance was enough to make you jerk in his hold.

He dipped his head, forehead making contact with your shoulder, and it took you a moment to realize he was watching himself, observing the sight of his hand between your legs. When your hips twitched, he used his opposite hand to hold you steady, effectively forcing you to stay in place as he did what he pleased with your body.

“Please,” you whispered, and that was all it took for him to tire of his teasing, sinking his finger inside you with a slow, indulgent movement.

You gasped, the sound bleeding into a moan when his finger curled inside of you, and he pushed you down, forcing you to take him to the knuckle. You whispered his name as he curled his finger again, and when he added a second finger, you squeezed your eyes shut. He groaned at the sound it made when he thrust his fingers into you, the lewd, embarrassing schlick of you around him, and you had to take a moment for your jumbled thoughts to catch up with you. His fingers were so much thicker than your own, not to mention longer, and he was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. He thrust again, and you cried out, hips twitching, causing him to tighten his grip.

The curl of his fingers hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars, and when he felt the way it made you tighten around him, he began to abuse it with everything he had.

“Oh, Gods,” he groaned, “you’re so wet.”

You could do no more than gasp as his palm ground against your clit, and he held you there, forcing you to take it as he pressed in slow, maddening twists of his wrist before replacing his palm with his thumb.

It was arousing how easily he could manhandle you, and you had absolutely no desire to fight against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were getting close, embarrassingly quickly, and you could do nothing to stop yourself from hurtling towards that end, walls throbbing and contracting around his fingers.

One of your hands shot between you, encircling his thick wrist, and you weren’t sure what the purpose of that was, either to push him deeper or simply to find purchase, but you did know that your desperation made his dick twitch where it was pressed between you, forcing him to stifle a groan.

You convulsed in his hold, hips jerking in his iron grip, his name on your lips, and with a final press of his thumb against your clit, you came hard around his fingers, biting down into his shoulder, and he worked you through it with slow thrusts that made stars and celestial bodies dance across your closed eyelids. You called his name, urgent and drawn out, yet high and needy, and he replied with a groan of his own, his free hand flying from where he was holding you in place to wrap around his own cock, palming it, thumbing the head, forcing a moan from between his teeth.

You slumped heavily against him as you fell from your high, and when he withdrew his fingers, you let out a shuddering breath, the sensitivity sending your thoughts into nonsense. Your head was spinning, thoughts in a daze, and all you could feel was him as he panted for breath.

Seconds of silence, only interrupted by heavy breathing, passed before you rose on unsteady legs to discard your panties before you were settling over him once more, and he watched with hazy eyes as you shifted forward, pressing your bare cunt against the underside of his shaft in a slow grind. His mouth fell open in a silent cry, brows pinching upwards, the sensitivity clearly unbearable. Suffocating, maddening lust worked its way through your bloodstream like a toxin, and you knew he needed more, from the way his hips rutted up in halfway thrusts as you rubbed against him.

“Fuck,” he choked, head falling back as the tip of his cock caught against you, “I wanna–”

You rocked forward, and his entire body jolted, tearing a groan from deep in his chest.

“What do you want?” You asked, breathless, and he lifted his head to look at you, the fog of desire in his eyes downright sinful.

He yanked you close, trapping his cock between your bodies, and into a frenzied kiss, his restraint all but gone as he unabashedly moaned at the feel of your skin.

“I want,” he husked, mouth pressing open kisses against your jaw, and he stopped, breath hot against your ear, “to be inside you.”

Your breath left you in a rush, and you drew him into a deep kiss, one he returned with vigor, hands smoothing down your body to grab at your hips, pressing you forward and against him once more, and when you pulled back, his eyes were wild with desperation and maddening lust.

“I don’t have protection,” he said, and you shook your head, dismissing him.

“I’m on birth control,” you said. Siegwinne made the tonic you took, something she supplied even to female inmates to help with lightening periods. But right now, it would be used for its intended purpose. Wriothesley nodded as he took this information in, seemingly relaxing a little.

“Please,” he mumbled, and you blinked, surprised to hear him beg for anything, but you were hardly going to deny him, “I’m going insane. I need you.”

You took a shuddering breath as you shifted up, using one hand to brace yourself as you took his cock in your hand, pressing him against you. You both cried out in unison at the feeling, even the slightest whisper of much needed friction enough to make you feel lightheaded, and you felt his hands grasp your hips, urging you downwards.

You sank down, slowly, and even the tip of him was a stretch, a dull ache blossoming as you pressed closer. Both hands landed on his shoulders, breath heavy, and he groaned lowly at the sensation.

“Slow,” he said, fighting for control, “c’mon, you can take me. Relax, deep breaths.”

You nodded, once, as you did as he instructed. Your knees shuffled as you pressed yourself down, met with more resistance, and forcing you to stop, gasping for air. He was only halfway in and you already felt full, stretched to accommodate him. It was unfamiliar and new, and you weren’t used to this, but his grip was tightening, and with a deep breath, you thrust down, taking the rest of him in one quick motion.

The sting of the stretch danced across your frayed nerves like a livewire, and you grit your teeth, head slumping forward as Wriothesley let out a long, low groan, both of his hands rushing to your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place.

A string of curses left his lips as his head fell back, and you could feel him throb inside of you, so deep you could hardly believe it, stuffed full to the brim.

“Just– oh, or you could just take it all. Fuck,” he quieted, breathing heavily, before speaking again, “are you– did that hurt you? Are you okay?”

The pain wasn’t horrible, and you hesitated to even call it pain. It was just an ache, dull and unpleasant, but you’d been wet enough that taking him hadn’t caused you any actual damage. You sat still as you adjusted, the aching burn of the stretch rapidly fading into something maddening, replaced by a desperate need.

“I’m fine,” you said, voice strained, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, once, before drawing you close, linking your mouth to his in a kiss far more gentle than you’d expected. You felt him throb, and when you squeezed, you got the pleasure of hearing him groan your name.

“You’re so tight. Please, please– yeah–”

His head fell back as you rocked your hips, lifting yourself up, only to sink back down, and when you repeated the action, he groaned helplessly, a string of almost nonsensical praises spilling past his lips, only serving to make you want to wreck him even further.

Sheer, uncontained relief was tangled inextricably with every sound he made, his hands squeezing your hips as you took him again, and again, and again, and oh fuck, you felt like you were being split open, impaling yourself repeatedly on his fat cock. The burn from before turned into pure ecstasy, the stretch of him inside of you intoxicating, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you moaned out his name. He wasn’t even bothering to stay quiet, not that it mattered, nobody could hear from outside the heavy office doors, which was an advantage right then.

You keened as his hips rose to meet you, the base of his dick rubbing against your clit. You sank down, taking him fully, ejecting any rational or sensical thought from your head, grinding in deep, easy circles, and you could feel blunt nails digging into your hips as he held you in place, totally drunk on pleasure.

His grip eased as you slid back up before taking him again, and he was kissing you frantically, one of his hands flattening against your breast, rolling the nipple under the rough pad of his thumb, making you whimper into his mouth.

“Faster,” he hissed, pulling back to meet your eyes, “faster, ride me faster.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, using them as leverage to move yourself faster, arching your back as the new speed made you see stars, and you whined, burning pleasure shooting through you at the grind of his cock against your clit.

“Good girl,” he groaned, dizzy with pleasure, “yeah, just like that.”

You could feel yourself getting close again, and you groaned his name as you swiveled your hips. Your thighs were beginning to burn with the exertion, even with just the short time you’d been moving at this pace, and when he felt you shudder, his hands found your waist, helping you along.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Wriothesley panted, “that’s it, fuck me just like that.”

He was moving you with his own hands, easily, and you tried your best to move along with him, swiveling your hips whenever he bottomed out, and his head fell back in rapture, gasping for air.

Your orgasm was approaching fast, and you were helpless to its pull as you sped up, chasing after it frantically, the sound that filtered through your clenched teeth one of desperation. You felt like you were losing yourself, and when you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his throat, an unrestrained groan fell past his lips, his hips bucking up with enough force to make you see stars. When his thumb pressed against your clit, you tipped over the edge hard, stilling as you clung to him, sobbing his name into the curve of his shoulder.

You tightened to a vice grip around him, throbbing as your climax crashed over you, and you heard him growl at the sensation, hips bucking, still working his cock up into your messy cunt. Before you could even start to come down from your high, you were moving, and the frigid steel of the floor met your back, rapidly heating from contact with your skin. One of his hands gripped at your leg, tucking beneath your knee and holding it up, and then he was driving forwards, hips slapping against yours as he filled you once more.

He paused, shaken by the intensity of the sensation, before his head pitched forward, breath heavy, and he was thrusting again with a renewed vigor, nails digging into your flesh.

His name was the only thing on your tongue as he fucked you, so good it made you feel like your head was emptying itself out. His mouth found yours as he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearm, laid beside your head, giving him more freedom to do what he pleased with his hips. The base of his dick was rubbing against your clit once again, and you whined, squirming beneath him, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Wriothesley,” you gasped, head fuzzy, completely cock drunk as he broke the kiss to mouth at your neck, “deeper.”

He groaned, low and indulgent, and when his hips snapped forward, filling you completely, your back arched against his chest.

“Deeper?” he repeated, the baritone timbre of his voice lowered to an uneven bass, “you want it deeper? That what you want, gorgeous?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “please, give it to me.”

A low, rough chuckle was the only warning you got before he was thrusting forward, hips flush against yours, and he repeated the action, again, and again, and again, making you bite your lip to keep from wailing at the intensity of it all.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard him gasp, stricken, indulgent, “fuck, yeah, that’s it.”

It felt so good you could hardly think, and when you babbled his name, lust drunk and fucked dumb, he pressed soft kisses along the column of your throat, almost like a reward, a thank you for letting him do this to you.

His pace was growing sloppy, but he showed no signs of letting up, and in the back of your mind, you figured was probably just going to keep on going, even if he came. It was rapidly beginning to become far too much for you, and you moaned, high and breathy, when he rammed himself all the way in, grinding his hips before pulling out less than a quarter of the way, then thrusting back in. He was so deep, and you writhed under him, fingernails scraping against the floor before you were clinging to him. He was moaning, low and breathless, the way he was moving causing you to helplessly spasm around him, forcing you violently over the edge when the base of him rubbed just right against your aching clit.

You could feel tears, beading at your lashline as the sensitivity became maddening, but he wasn’t letting up, even as you arched and bucked and wailed beneath him, the intensity of your climax rendering you incoherent. He knew exactly what he was doing, just how to push every button he needed to, and you were halfway between deliriously begging for more or sobbing at the sensitivity.

A string of curses left his lips as he came, gushing hot and thick inside of you, but he wasn’t even pausing, even as his groans tapered into breathy moans from the way he was overstimulating himself. You could feel him, throbbing, pulsing inside of you as he filled you, uncaring of the way his cum dripped out of you. The sound of it, combined with the slap of skin against skin, was unbelievably lewd, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even think, let alone be any kind of embarrassed. If anything, it only drove you higher.

“Fuck,” Wrothesley cursed, low and broken, “I need it again, please, again– fuck!”

He shifted back, grabbing at your legs and pressing them down beside you, and you thanked the Archons you were flexible as he continued, leaning forward once he had you in the position he liked and taking your body with abandon. He was hardly bothering to hold back his strength as he hammered into you, and your head fell back against the floor with a soft thud, eyes rolling back.

You’d never felt like this before in your life. Your legs were growing sore, and your back was going to be stiff from the way he was fucking you into the floor, but you didn’t care, not as you got to listen to the way he was saying your name like a prayer, how he was caressing and kissing your body like it was sacred. Exhaustion was a heavy weight against the blurred edges of your mind, and all you could do was lay there and take it as he chased after what he so desperately needed.

It didn’t take long for him to grow close again, and he whispered your name as his end quickly approached. You yanked him into a kiss, which he returned with a groan of ecstasy, and then, with a final, deep, shuddering thrust, he was cumming. The force of it made his entire body tremble, and the sound he made was one of satiated, relieved bliss as he emptied himself out inside of you, the heat of him almost suffocating, burning you from the inside out.

His hips jerked with unconscious movements and spasms as he drifted down from the staggering height of his climax, his breath heavy, and he slumped, weakened, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. His mouth pressed lazy kisses against your skin, and you lifted a hand to run it through his hair as he finally, finally began to grow soft inside of you.

The two of you lay there, still joined, for what felt like hours, bathing in each other’s warmth and the afterglow of it all. His breath fanned across your skin, feather soft as he lifted his head to join your lips together, before he slowly pulled out, rolling off of you, dazed.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice hoarse, and you arched your back, flexing your body. You winced at the soreness. You were undoubtedly going to have bruises from how hard he had been gripping you.

“I’m fine,” you said, “are you–”

He snorted.

“Yeah,” he said, “that uh… that did the trick.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly. You didn’t know how you’d be able to stand after that, genuinely. Your legs felt like jelly, and a deep, all consuming exhaustion was settling over your senses.

“You think it’s gone?” You asked, “the drug, I mean.”

He looked at you sidelong. “I don’t feel uncontrollably horny anymore, so I’d say so.”

Wriothesley sat up, flexing his shoulders. He tucked himself back into his pants, and then he was gathering you into his arms, rising to his feet.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Taking you to the bath,” he said, “I have a bathtub, in my living quarters.”

You relaxed, settling into his arms. “Oh.”

His living quarters were attached to the office, through a door you’d somehow never noticed before. You were far too tired to take in any of the details of it, instead opting to close your eyes and rest your head on the nearest comfortable spot on Wriothesley’s chest, which he didn’t seem to mind at all.

He set you in the tub, and after the water was run, you were surprised to see him climbing in along with you. It wasn’t unwelcome, and seeing him completely bare was hardly a bad thing, and you were pleasantly happy when he began to gently wash you, and once he was finished, he tugged you back, settling you against his chest.

The bathroom was silent, save for the musical sound of running water, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes, settling into the comfortable atmosphere.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Wriothesley said, and you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“About being fond of you,” he said, “you’re… an amazing woman. I want–”

You leaned up, kissing him, and effectively giving him an answer to his thoughts. He sighed into the kiss, content, one large hand rising to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I guess Siegwinne succeeded,” you said, and Wriothesley smiled, amused.

“I guess she did.”

You stayed in the bath much longer than you expected, until the water became cold, and once that happened, Wriothesley whisked you off to the bed, tucking you under the covers after supplying you with one of his shirts to wear. You smiled when he joined you, now dressed in a pair of sweats, chest left bare, and curled up beside you, tucking you close to his chest.

Sleep came quickly after the lights were switched off, the exhaustion from before spreading over you like wildfire.

And, when he thought you were asleep, you felt him, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his body relaxing against yours.

BONUS:

You were agonizingly sore. Your stiff muscles had stiff muscles, and while Wriothesley was sheepish, and apologetic, and promised he’d treat you to dinner to make it up (which you would be taking him up on), it made walking back to the infirmary the next morning a little difficult.

What was even worse was the look on Siegwinne’s face when you entered, ruby red eyes knowing as she watched you approach.

“How’s the duke?” She asked, and you handed her the accursed thermos without saying anything.

“Fine,” you said, slumping down into your chair with a sigh.

She smiled. “Good. Are you seeing him again tonight?”

You turned, brows furrowed. “How did you know about that?”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Someone saw you leaving his office this morning. I suppose what I put in the tea worked a little too well.”

You stared at her. “Siegwinne, you put an aphrodisiac in his tea.”

She paused, concerned. “No I didn’t. I put a supplement to further enhance his desire for you. If we’re being frank, it’s closer to a love potion. Just to get rid of any inhibitions. It’s medicine. But it isn’t meant to cause anything like–”

You rolled back your sore shoulders. “Yeah, well, it did.”

Her face went pale, but she briefly covered it up. “I… suppose I miscalculated.”

You laughed, then. Really laughed. It startled Siegwinne, who stared at you with growing concern.

“It’s fine,” you said, “whatever, Siegwinne. At least you don’t have to keep going with trying to set us up. Focus your energy on making ‘love potions’ that aren’t aphrodisiacs in humans, okay?”

She flushed, quiet, then nodded, once, her eyes taking on a determined look. You were beginning to regret saying anything.

With a smile, and a good natured nod, she put her hands on her hips, ever the dutiful nurse.

“I’ll get right on that.”

Fin.

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