#starting the new year................ WITH LOTS OF WORDS!!

[nichuuu]

Paper Houses

Cho Miyeon x M reader

(1st instalment of The View Between Villages)

Word Count: 18k+ Special thanks to @defmaybe for helping to draw out the best version of this fic.

(All the details? Really? Oh wow. Okay…)

(I’m gonna dissociate myself from this so… “you” is gonna appear a lot. Don’t sweat it cupcake—you’re not actually the one in this mess. 

It’s just a bad habit of mine, that’s all.)

--

(You’re lucky. You get the sweet start to it all. For what it’s worth: sweetness is a fucking deceiving concept when you have rose-tinted lenses.)

“You know: out of all the men I’ve dated, you cook the best.”

You raise an eyebrow as you flip the grilled cheese in your skillet. Frankly, there’s nothing to be impressed about over grilled cheese and tomato soup. Cheese sandwiched between two evenly buttered slices of bread, grilled till golden brown and served with a side of hot tomato juice in a bowl. Literally everything has been prepared for you and packed neatly into some package in a grocery store. All you did was heat it up and add a few of your own ingredients.

“Is that a compliment or a flex?” you ask, turning your gaze away from your skillet momentarily to look at Miyeon as she replies. Her face isn’t gonna add value to her answer, but you just like looking at her. She is hot after all. 

She scoffs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Jeez… Can’t a woman compliment her boyfriend in peace?”

You’ve had this conversation before, but you like to entertain her.

“This woman can’t,” you tell her, making sure she can see the smirk on your face as you turn back to the sandwich. You wave your spatula in the air as you speak, almost like you’re referring to PowerPoint slides. “She’s too weird about everything. Never take her seriously.”

“Oh, so we’re just gonna call me weird and neglect the fact you keep your butter in that?” she exclaims, pointing at the butter bell on top of your fridge. It was a Christmas gift from your mom last year, and even though you did think it was weird at first, you have not gone back to keeping your butter in blocks. 

“You keep my fucking butter bell out of this,” you warn, and it’s half joking and half serious. 

(No one fucks with your butter bell.)

Miyeon chortles. You don’t need to look at her to know that she’s raising her hands in the air when she says, “jeez man. Didn’t know you guys were tight like that…”

And it’s stupid exchanges like this that make you appreciate her company by bounds. It’s lonely in the apartment when she’s out being famous; really nice to have her around for the holidays, albeit for a short time. It’s been a while since she’s been back. There’s much to catch up on over an 11 am brunch. You don’t know why she’s up so damn early today, cause normally you guys sleep till the late afternoon, then go figure out what to eat for dinner before lazing around in the apartment.

So with cheese falling from the corner of her lip, she gives you the latest developments in her life. Then it’s your turn, and you're glad to say that nothing’s really of interest in either of your updates. That’s usually for the better: sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your lives are pretty bland.

“You know,” she says as she wipes her mouth. “I might just keep dating you for your food,” she tosses her tissue onto the dining table and lets out a sigh. “Fucking delicious.”

You scoff and sip on your coffee. “Bet you told that to all the guys,” you reply wryly. “Probably gets them real excited, huh?”

She grins. It’s cheeky, mischievous, maybe even a little naughty. “Not telling.”

“You don’t tell me a lot of things,” you chuckle, and you’re low-key unsurprised to hear a little bit of unintended bitterness in your voice. “Not that it matters or anything… I just value communication.”

Oh, you’re petty. So fucking petty that it makes your skin crawl a little.

Miyeon’s unfazed. 

“Don’t get your tits in a tussle, pretty boy,” she muses. She folds her arms and leans into the table. “You’ll know more when I trust you more. For now: I’ll give you information as I please.”

And you kick yourself because you forget she can be a bit of a handful herself.

“Ugh, what will I ever do with this mysterious woman?” you smirk, resting your elbow against the table as you lean in as well. To be perfectly clear: you’re not mad at her. Her secrecy just bugs you out a little, and she knows it. “Such little knowledge on such a hardened beauty… must be tough to really crack her open and figure her out.”

You love her eyes, and you love to make them roll (in multiple contexts). They kinda gleam as she tilts her head. “Fine… I’ll give you something since you’re so damn desperate,” she drums her fingers against her cheek while her chin nestles itself into her palm. “What I’m about to give you is gonna change your life in so many ways. It’ll probably redefine your whole damn existence.”

You express your interest by leaning in a little more. Miyeon checks her six—like she isn’t in the comfort of her own home—before leaning in. She’s all clandestine. You have no idea what for. 

“You ready?” she checks. And you know she isn’t expecting an answer, but you nod nonetheless. She checks her left and right for good measure. You never know: maybe your lamp is listening.

“I’m aching for cock right now.”

And you guys don’t even make it to the couch.

It’s on the floor next to your table where she has your face in her hands, and she’s kissing you aggressively. She’s properly kissing you, and it makes you knock the back of your head against the floor a little, but it’s really not too big of a deal. 

She lifts her lips off yours and smirks. “For the record: it’s your fault that we aren’t fucking on the couch.”

“Yeah, and I actually paid rent early for once,” you shoot back sarcastically. “And would you mind helping me clean the yacht I most definitely own on my luxurious salary? Thanks a bunch, honey.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. She knows you’re full of shit, but she’s full of the same shit as you. Form a shit pile or something, maybe even a shit mountain if you feel like it. You could really go on for a while about how you two can talk for hours, but that’s not the main event.

The real deal comes when she has her hand beneath the waistband of your pants, slithering down to the very thing she aches for. She has that smile on her face, the one that kinda says “Oh I’m gonna love this” or “you’re gonna love this” or maybe even both. There are ways to distinguish the messages by looking at her eyes, but you’re a little too lazy to go figure it out right now. And before someone calls you a bum, you can’t help it: she has her hand on your cock and a piercing gaze trained on you. How about you try and focus on discerning implicit messages when there's a hot woman touching you in the right places?

“How are you hard already?” she asks, a hint of a giggle in her tone as she presses your shaft against your body. There’s barely any space down there, yet she makes it work so easily. “I didn’t even, like, do anything yet.”

“Well,” you hum, just as she starts to squeeze your member, appling that toe-curling pressure to your tip and smiling as you strain a little. “I can kinda see your tits through your shirt.”

Miyeon raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t even look at her shirt. “Oh?” and she starts to pump. “I didn’t notice that…”

“Totally,” you grunt. “Like how you don’t notice that your shorts are barely shorts?” you continue, but there’s something more bugging you. “And at least pull my pants down if you’re gonna jack me off, would you?”

Miyeon snorts, but compiles nonetheless. She gets your pants and boxers off with ease. It’s one swift motion (it’s practiced grace really), and she gets back to the task at hand before she was so rudely interrupted. 

“What does seeing my tits have anything to do with you?” Her motions are languid and fluid, steady and flowing like a stream. She doesn’t need to look. She doesn't need to guess. She knows you like the back of her hand. “Does it turn you on? Excite you?”

You have it in you to roll your eyes before they shut. “Stop asking these fucking ridiculous questions.”

“It's a basic inquiry.” She laughs in this aloof tone that you know is paired with the most devious of smiles. “So you won’t let me compliment you and you won’t let me ask questions? Tsk. Chivalry is dead.”

Miyeon goes a little faster, adds a twist of her wrist. This is just her hand, mind you, and it’s already ruining you in a way that only she is capable of. The tender touch of Cho Miyeon is something no woman you’ve met could ever replicate, and it takes you to places that you can only visit with her. Those fingers are magic, that mouth is magic—hell, everything about her is magic. 

“Please,” you manage to quip past the jolts of magic being sent through your system. “We both know that you have the answers to all the questions you just asked.”

She giggles—playfully, you might add. This is all a part of the game you play with her; this is the way Miyeon’s cookie crumbles. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Who cares?”

You care: not a lot, but enough to make this as humorous as you want it to be. You kinda only give two shits because it lets you be kinda petty with her, but not that you externalise it or anything. You just have it pent up in you for the fun of it.

“Anyway,” she muses, halting the strokes of her hand to your cock. “Have I told you about how much I wanted you to fill me while I was filming?”

You take a moment to breathe. “No… But do tell.”

And gets to that, but not before ridding herself of her shirt first. By technicality, it’s your shirt, but it shrunk in the dryer at some point, so it just became hers. She gets into the details, the nitty gritty; tells you exactly what she’s imagining during the filming of her Music Video all while you kind just sit there and ogle at her chest. She takes her time, covers the stuff that you don’t really need to know but it’s kinda hot to know — things like “ugh, I needed you to bend me over the hood of that car and just fuck me at that point…” — because you admittedly get off knowing that she ever thinks about you that way and… God, you’re rambling aren’t you? Still pretty fitting though: it’s the way Miyeon talks when she’s thinking nonsense.

“Ugh. Now I’m wet,” she mutters. She speaks as if it’s your fault that she went on rambling about her fantasies with you. “You know you make me like, really horny right?”

“Oh no… Whatever will I do?” you’re really just rolling with it. Not because you want to, but because you want to get this bit where you tease each other over and done with. It’s kinda like marinating meat in the way it makes the sex a little hotter. Truthfully: you’re aching for her. Really: you want nothing more than to just get her pinned beneath you and writhing on your wooden floor. 

And frankly? You could do all of that right now.

So it’s with a bit of grace (and some dexterity) that you flip the positions: now you’re kneeling over her while she is the one that lies on the floor, if that makes any sense. Miyeon isn’t shocked by your sudden movements, more so delighted by the fact that you finally gave in to your carnal urges and just went for it. She smiles, knowing full well that she’s done something that's gonna give her that fuel she needs for the week. You know: sex that’s the opposite of soft; some shit that fulfills some wild thoughts. 

“Gotta say, you’re quicker than usual,” she has that cocky smirk on her face. You wanna wipe it right off her face, and you know just how. “Normally you’re all talk, no– Oh…”

You like that it really only takes a finger pressed against her panties to shut her up. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make her shut her eyes and shut up for a moment. The spot you press on is damp, soaked in that sweet slick. Gently, you trace the outline of those swollen folds. “You were saying?”

She has it in her to laugh—a breathy chortle. “Fuck you.”

“I’m working on that,” you fire back. Your cock twitches a little when you see her jolt in response to your touch. Your finger pressed down on that one spot that makes her weak, and it really works wonders: an airy gasp slips past those thin, luscious lips. The number of times you’ve kissed those lips swollen is not a number countable with 10 fingers.

Miyeon sighs, and it’s a mix of pleasure and frustration in her breath that humors you. She relaxes into the floorboards, her hips rock, her cunt rubs against your fingers. She's searching for some friction — sweet release in lewd movements. You let her move for a bit, watch her shake like the bough of a willow tree as she pleases herself against your fingers. 

“Enjoying yourself?” you quip. 

“Yeah..” she hums. “Passing time while you’re still not taking these shorts off me.”

Of course… How could you be so forgetful?

You stop for a moment to help her wriggle out of her clothing. It isn’t one of her most graceful moments, but it quickly passes. The shorts join your pants on the floor. Her panties are pink — not that subtle shade of pink or even like a darker version of pink. It’s Barbie fucking Pink.

“So we’re feeling loud today, huh?” you ask, letting your finger trail the lacy parts of the fabric. Miyeon smiles.

“Sana gave them to me,” she explains, not the least bit sheepish that her damp spot is visibly darker than the rest of her underwear. “Hope this doesn’t affect you in your work or anything…”

You feel the corner of your lip turn up. “No, no… Of course not,” you assure her, all while you let your hand slip between the fabric and her skin. You can feel her shudder, then you feel the heat of her cunt at the tip of your fingers. “You caught me on the right day actually… Pink’s in my rotation of favourite colours this fine morning.”

“Right,” her voice has a lilt. It’s shuddering a little too. “I knew that… Definitely had that in mind.”

You laugh. Your index fingers slip between her folds. She moans. 

You lower yourself, capture a swollen, taut nipple in your mouth. The sweet suction you deliver makes her gasp. Her hand finds itself in your head.

It’s all quite rhythmical, almost like a routine for the two of you. The way your bodies react to each other feels so natural that you think it might just be second nature at this point. You know her body: you’ve memorised the dips and curves and tender spots; the hot spots, the warm parts and the best parts. She knows you—the way you think, the way you talk; the way you play with her and the things you want to do with her. It would be safe to say that you guys practically have PhDs in the subject of each other, but that’s not a fair statement because you’re both a little more complicated than you let on. That keeps the sex exciting; it makes you crave each other a little more than last time. 

“One or two?” you whisper, letting your finger dip in and out of her lips and getting it all wet in her slickness. She takes a moment to think, or maybe she’s taking a moment to really soak in the teasing. Either way: she takes some time to reply. 

“Two,” she shifts herself a little lower, her clit pressing into the base of your middle finger. It makes her sigh — a low, kinda sonorous escape of air through her lips. “I hope you trimmed your nails this time.”

“That last time was a minor mishap,” you admit. You kinda want to pull your hands out to double-check, but you’re too mired in the moment to assuage your worries. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.”

She beams like the damn sun. “Good. I like it when you’ve got the reins.”

And that makes you suck in some air through your teeth. 

(God, does she know how to try you on.)

Your digits push themselves inside of her. They’re wrapped in her tight warmth, snug as a bug in a rug or whatever. You love the way her abs kinda flex as your fingers introduce themselves to her insides. It makes the best parts of her pop. Her chest rises a little more than the last time, her breaths becoming a little longer and more drawn out as your fingers explore her like always. The way she jolts when you get to that one spot at the roof of her pussy tells you that she has been primed and ready for this moment, loaded up like a shotgun and the trigger is really just any part of you that makes her cum. It could be your fingers, your tongue, your dick, your thigh—any part of you that can get her to that sweet high. Of course: you’re more than happy to assist. And so your mouth latches itself back onto her breast, tongue licking and swishing and flicking the swollen nipple atop her small yet generously sized breast. You relish the way it feels in your hand as you cup it—not too firmly and not too gently—and give it a squeeze, enjoying how the flesh spills out a little between your fingers but still fits in the palm of your hand.

“How do you only get better at this?” she hisses through her teeth. “I mean, I just saw you last week but… Oh god…”

You remove her nipple from your mouth. “Art is honed. This is art.”

She laughs, then throws her head back to let out a moan. “Well I’ll be damned,” her eyes close as she speaks, resting themselves for a bit so that she can enjoy the feel of your fingers in the best part of her slick. “Paint me like one of your French girls then.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

You can’t track the exact moments where she starts to blue screen on you, but you can guess it's somewhere between you pinching her nipple and when you slide a third finger into her. The pressure, the stretching—it’s, like, everything she wants as of right now. She lets out this choked-up cry that you like to hear, the supple curve of her back growing more defined as she arches just a little more. She doesn't hold back, she never does. When you’re making her feel good, you can bet some good money that she’ll let you know. She’ll find her own way to express herself, be it through sound or action or words—sometimes a combination of all three. 

The way she feels around your fingers—delicate squeezing and sweet pressure around your digits as they stretch her to new lengths—is nothing short of enthralling. You can feel her pulse around you, the dull throb of her heartbeat as it beats for the sole purpose of getting all that blood rushing into the right areas. Your hand is kinda messy, fingers coated down to your knuckles in the sweet substance from her heat. Miyeon starts to writhe, squirm. A whine leaves her mouth. It’s followed by another, and another, and another—keeps going till the whiny stream ends with a guttural moan. 

Her legs close around your wrist. Her throat bobs.

“Mmph… baby…” her hand flails a bit as she tries to search for you. She catches your shoulder and her nails dig in. “Your mouth… I want your mouth on me.”

You always loved how forthcoming she is. 

“Miyeon…” you drawl, and this next bit is really just for the fun of it. “What’s the magic word?”

She laughs softly through the pleasure, lets a smile grace your eyes. She doesn’t fight it; she wants it—wants you. She just wants you in any shape or form. Any version of you will do; she’ll take all the different sides of you in a heartbeat. All she needs is you. “Please.”

You’ve never found so much delight in hearing that word. Kinda makes you want to hear it again.

“I can’t hear you,” your thumb presses down onto her clit. Her thighs start to twitch. 

“Please!” she yells that magic word in the form of a shout this time. Your cheeks hurt from how widely you’re beaming.

You retract your fingers. They come up to your mouth so you can taste her off of them. She’s nothing short of delicious, and you can kinda tell that she knows it because she’s smirking as she watches you clean off yourself.

“How are we feeling about the samples?” she has that proud gleam in her eye. “Pineapple’s been in my diet as of late… Just wondering if anything’s different.”

You smack your lips. “Picking up on a little tang here… Can’t be sure though.”

Her hands slide down to her hips, thumbs hooking into the band of her panties and pulling them down her thighs. “No worries. There’s more where it came from.”

The gall of this girl is insane, you’re thinking, smirking as you assist the journey of her underwear down her slim, milky legs. Like all your other clothing, it’s tossed aside. 

Miyeon spreads thighs, bends her knees so that her feet are flat on the floor.  You get in position, let your palms slide down her body with careful consideration: run your hands over the sensitive parts of the stomach, skim that one portion of her inner thigh that makes her shiver. She watches—waiting and anticipating while failing to keep her excitement off her face. 

She is glistening, swollen and plump to your eyes, kinda far ahead considering that you just used your fingers. She’s eager, unashamed and more proud than embarrassed about her arousal. Her legs shift a bit. She looks at you, a fingernail between her teeth as she exhales sharply when your thumb traces the outline of her pussy, careful in its endeavor as you feel the muscles around her slick tense up in response. Oh she’s so damn impatient right now, but she lets you get away with all of this because it gets her off a little harder; the teasing is just part of the show and the climax will probably follow pretty soon, fast and hard

“You’ve been looking forward to this, huh?” you remark, watching as her eyelids flutter when you put a little pressure with the pad of your thumb. 

“Mhm…” she replies. It’s a low hum, one that resonates in her throat rather pleasantly. “You have no idea…”

You laugh. Your eyes roll towards the ceiling then set themselves back on her. “Please… We both know I have some idea,” you stop your thumb on her clit, and you begin to draw small circles around it. “You did tell me” —and you have to pause for a bit to use your other hand to press down on her pelvic area, stopping her from jolting her hips up to get that sweet sensation of your thumb rubbing her swollen nub. She whines a little, a soft plea following suit— “about all the things you wanted to do with me.”

She desperately tries to shift herself, press herself a little more against you. The smooth wooden floor hinders her, the lack of friction failing to aid her. Her brows furrow. She’s frustrated. “Yeah, well, if you know what I want so much, why aren’t you fucking getting to it?”

You wink. “Relax. I’m just letting the meat tenderise.”

“Oh shut it you fucking—  Mmmph!”

And the way you part her with your tongue, it’s like she’s butter and you’re a hot knife slicing her open. You're slow with it, and you don’t stop when Miyeon’s thigh stiffens against your palm, or when she squirms a little and almost got your tongue derailed from its track. You know what makes her tick, what makes her hit the octave and gets her nice and messy for you. If anything gets Miyeon going more than actually fucking—it’s definitely gotta be when you get your tongue on her folds. 

“You’re never gonna let me finish my sentences, are you?” she laughs breathily. You watch her abdomen as it rises and falls together with the quick breaths she takes.

“Dunno…” you nuzzle your face in her folds for a little, giving her time to say whatever she wants for a bit. “You did say that chivalry is dead.”

From your bottom up view of her, you can tell that she just rolled her eyes. “No comment. You won’t let my finish it any— oh my fucking god.”

Now it’s the flat of your tongue against her clit that stops her dead in her tracks. Her juices have begun to lather your tongue in their addictive taste, drawing you into her just a little more with each lap of your tongue. You suck on one of her folds, then your tongue is inside her, and she moans, her hand finding a spot on the back of your head that she can grip on to. She calls you crazy, calls you baby, runs her fingers through your hair. Your tongue dips in, circles, laps; your nose brushes against all the right spots of her skin and it draws out these almost sob-like, quiet sounds from her chest and she’s… Fuck, she’s amazing.

“I might take a while,” she whispers to you. You call malarkey, but play along nonetheless.

“Fuck yes,” your tongue swipes the entirety of her in a long, broad stroke. “Please, by all means princess. Take your time,” you don’t think you could ever sound as enthusiastic as you did right now. She pushes you down a little harder onto her slit, and you delight in how she squirms when you push your tongue a little deeper between her folds.

Her nails start to dig into your scalp a bit, and she starts pushing you down onto her cunt a little more.

“You know,” she speaks with this half-whisper-half-gasp, the type of tone that tells you that she’s fighting to stay in control of her own body. “I— mmph… Sometimes I lock myself in the changing room and just get off to the thought of you eating me.”

You suck on the other fold that you neglected earlier. “Oh yeah?” and you get a finger inside of her. She cries out, abdomen flexing deliciously as she turns pliant under the pressure of your finger getting a hold of that sweet spot. You can feel the heat—it feels like your skin is gonna melt. “Bet you get off real hard to it, maybe even harder than you will in like, two minutes.”

“Two?” she tries to sound a little defiant, but her voice is cracking and it’s really not working out in her favour. Your finger is barely pushing up by the way, yet it seems like she’s got thousands of pascals of pleasure weighing down on every part of her being. “Don’t put yourself on a fucking pedestal… I am nowhere close.”

You hum in reply, saving your energy to suck on her clit. And it’s almost like she’s spring-loaded in the way her thighs clamp around your ears immediately after. Her fingers eat into your scalp, a light, searing pain growing across your head as you kiss her right fold, then her left. You can tell that there’s liquid burning heat running through her body, spilling all over her. Miyeon tries to hold on, tries to prolong this for a little more by getting her nails deep in your scalp. But she’s falling apart, coming undone with each second.

“Baby.”

“One minute left,” you put your lips back around her clit. Her head thumps against the floorboards.

“I—can’t.”

“Ugh. Hate it when you lie.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Just fucking cum.”

And she ruins herself. She loses sense of the world for a bit—convulsing and twitching on the floor while you continue to lick her. No cry leaves her mouth; a strained, choked up phonic gets caught in her throat and refuses to dislodge. Her back arches, her thighs flex. Her world fades for a bit. 

Give or take: she takes a minute or so. When she gasps for air, you know she’s come back down to earth. You welcome her with a kiss to her abdomen as you rise up. Her cheeks are rubicund—flushed and making her glow as she smiles at you. She softly captures your cheeks in her hands.

“Okay,” she huffs, taking deep breaths as she strokes your face with her thumb. “Out of all the men I’ve dated: you can cook and eat the best.”

“Twenty dollars says that you’ve said that to at least four guys,” you muse. “Maybe five if I’m generous.”

She closes her eyes for a moment. Inhales. Exhales.

“Hand on my heart,” she uses one hand to push some hair out of her face. “I’ve only said this to you.”

Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance.

You willfully let yourself be blissful because you can.

--

(Then fast forward a little. Maybe like, three hours? Or however long it takes for you to have a nap and a shower to get ready to go out.)

“Are you seriously going out in that?”

And you have to stop at the door. You know that tone all too well.

“What is it this time?” you grumble, turning around to face the bed so that she can get a full biopsy of your outfit. It isn’t a bad outfit in your honest opinion, and you’re no stranger to horrible (unintentional) attempts at making fashion statements. Colour-blindness is a hereditary curse; it’s not your fault that you can’t tell that this shade of blue doesn’t work with that shade of grey and whatnot. “I swear I wore this a week ago and you said nothing.”

Miyeon slips out from under the covers. In your T-shirt, she saunters with purpose and urgency as she makes her way over. She stops in front of you and takes your tie into her hands. “It’s either you lose this tie or do something else to this already god-forsaken outfit.”

You consider the options for a hot minute. You’re kinda proud of this outfit—it took a lot of time and vetting through Miyeon to get it planned out and everything. The tie was kind of a staple piece—as important as the shirt or trousers. To hear that (in essence) you looked like shit admittedly dealt a blow to your ego, but why be petty when you can be cavalier?

“Whatever,” you reply, making no effort to stop her from trailing a nail up your shirt. “I couldn’t really care less about how this woman perceives me tonight. Not even into her anyway.”

Miyeon chuckles. The finger on your chest wraps itself around the top of your tie. “That’s an option as well,” she adjusts the knot, though it doesn’t look like she’s doing it to make you look better. “But can I give you one more alternative?”

“By all means, princess.”

She tugs on your tie, pulls you close. Your lips are just centimetres away from hers. You get a whiff of her scent. She’s using the shampoo you bought her. 

“Stay home,” she makes sure that her voice is kinda breathy, tickles your face as she lets the phonics dissipate into warm air. “Skip the date. You have a smoking hot girlfriend to fuck anyway.”

Oh and it takes you just about everything to stop you from grabbing her by the face and just kissing her. It's so easy: reach forward, get her face (or waist) in your hands and just smash her lips against yours. You know she’s thinking the same thing; but she’s waiting on you, anticipating what you’re going to do next. It’s a sick little game the two of you play, but it’s fun as hell and really doesn’t get boring in the near future.

“You know what my mom would say…” you begin, and you know she’s gonna stop you.

“Say you're sick”—bingo motherfuckers. She owes you five bucks—“tell her that you got the cold and so you can’t show up.”

“Expended on that one… And the work emergency one too,” you regretfully inform her. “And no: I will not be telling them that we’re actually a thing—“

“Cause you want to protect me and blah blah…” she interjects yet again, her fingers moving up and down, closing against her thumb in mimicry of a mouth moving. It’s petty, kinda frustrating—but it’s Miyeon. She’s a handful to deal with at times, but at least she’s your handful to deal with. “Been running the same jig for a little too long, tiger. I know your game.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’m a one-trick Pony and my carrot is you. What’s new?”

She chortles at that, and you take that moment to really get a good look at her because by god is she beautiful. Head-turner, eye-widener, heart-racer — not to be a bore, but again: it’s Miyeon. There’s a lot more about her that you could synthesize into words, but you won’t (not because you don’t want to or anything; but it’s more about the fact that you probably don’t have enough time to get someone to understand her.)

Cause here’s the thing (about her, you and both of you): she’s just as human as anyone, and that means she’s just about as complicated as anyone. You’ve got a story, she’s got her’s, and the two cross somewhere to form a midpoint before they start running parallel to each other before meeting again and running together and… You get it, don’t you?

No? Fuck. 

Okay. She may or may not be able to hold down a relationship; and you may or may not have been able to secure a relationship. You kinda get drunk with her over this revelation one night and you may or may not have joked over the fact that maybe you should get together. And then you may or may not have had the hottest sex you’ve had in years before you may or may not have realised that she’s the best thing to happen to you. It’s all kinda hypothetical to you cause you’re still processing the fact that this is all real. Still wondering if it’s a fling cause it’s only been about 3 months since this started.

(Calm down cupcake, no one likes a party pooper who prods on details in the midst of a story. It’s just… Ugh. The story behind how the two of you know each other is so boring and complicated—full of unnecessary exposition like this whole bit really. It hurts to retell it, so here’s a summary: she used to date your roommate, roommate moved out after they broke up, she stayed and hanged around you, here you are now. Fuck the details, there’s no room for it really. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.)

“Save the charisma,” she tells you, really putting on some breath behind her words. “I prefer it when you use it in bed.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now.

The kiss kinda blurs the line between passionate and sweet (if there even was a line to begin with). It’s quite aggressive, a little tender but also a wee bit emotional. It makes you a little bitter, but don’t get it twisted: you love this girl with all your heart and you’d do anything to stay with her. It’s just that you’d love—more than anything—to lose the shirt and pants you’re wearing to make out with her, and then let things flow as they do. Unfortunately, your parents really want you to meet this girl, and you have to get going or you’ll probably get cut from the will or something.

She tries again. “Stay…”

“Miyeon—”

“I fucking need you… Please.”

It’s just so fucking tempting…. But there are only so many lines you can cross before you find yourself in trouble with border patrol. And if there's anything you hate more than lectures, it’s lectures from your mother.  

Her lips graze yours, hovering just millimeters away. She wants to kiss you—bite your lower lip and pull you into an undoubtedly sloppy lip lock. That will end with your hand somewhere on her body that gets the ball rolling (and we all know where that ball goes). She has it in her to do it; she has the right, the means and the fucking autonomy (and audacity). She’s just waiting on you, seeing what happens when she plants the seed of an idea in your head and waters it a little. 

Unfortunately for her, you’re too damn terrified of your parents to let that seed grow.

“I‘ll see you later,” you whisper, albeit a little reluctantly. “Call me if anything comes up.”

She understands that she’s lost. Doesn’t stop her from giving you that kiss though. “Don’t keep me waiting tonight… I love you.”

Ugh. She’s one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

--

So get this: this woman that your mother found for you is possibly the most boring person you’ll ever meet. She’s beautiful and all, but she has the personality that has just about the same amount of flavour as food in the west before spices.

She spends the meal talking about her job, and you kinda just fix her with a hundred yard stare and tune out. You couldn’t give a shit about computer security really—never was and never will be into that shit. It doesn’t help that your phone is kinda blowing up at the moment. It’s buzzing all over your thigh in your pocket. Pretty trippy, kinda makes you wonder if Miyeon had just slipped one of her vibrators into your pocket.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom at some point. You’re not sure how long she’s been yapping your ear off for, but it kinda doesn’t matter. All you’ve gotten from this meal is really just a handful of nonsense and a migraine. 

Anyway: it’s in the confines of the bathroom store that you check on the ruckus in your pocket. The screen lights up and you find that the spasming of your phone was caused by a combination of posts from a news outlet and from Miyeon. She takes precedence over the news.

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I swear to you I have no idea what’s going on 

Miyeon//8:01 pm: I’m getting this at the same time as you

Miyeon//8:02 pm: I don’t know what’s happening. Please come home.

And the way you open your news app almost instantly makes you feel like you’re all too familiar with this. It’s not a headline, but it might as well be from the way it makes your eyes widen and your breath stop for a second. 

You blink. You blink again. 

The words don’t change. 

Suddenly, you have a valid reason to get out of this dinner.

(How you get home is a little fuzzy, but that’s not really the important part. 

What? The headline? Oh you know it, don’t you cupcake? It was literally the only thing on people’s minds for some reason, as if an idol dating an actor is something unheard of.)

“What the fuck?” you ask when you step through your apartment door.

She sighs as you remove your coat and hang it behind your door. “Look… I’m just as confused as you are—”

“An actor?” you interject. You’ll admit that it’s a little rude, but you’re really just trying to make sense of this as fast as possible. “How long have you known this guy?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t,” she huffs. “I swear to you, hand on my heart and the other on the bible, I am not in love with that man.” She says. “I barely even know the fucker, never talked to him in my life.”

It’s a little hard to look at her right now. You have lots of things to say; lots of feelings and lots of thoughts. If you’re really gonna be honest with yourself: you’re scared, hurt and a little confused. Miyeon’s good at lying—a little too good for your liking. Pair that knowledge with your insecurities, and congrats: you’ve just given birth to multiple insecurities. They’re like little demons running amok in your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

You can’t do this with her now. Not when all this is all so fresh and new. 

But she catches your arm as you try to walk past her. Her grip is firm, pleading. 

“Please,” she utters, letting her hand slide down your arm to let her fingers wrap around your hand. “Trust me on this.”

You want to. You really want to. And so it hurts you to ask, “Am I just another fling?”

You can see it in her eyes when she realises the motivation behind the question. She doesn’t take long to come to the epiphany—just a little less than a second before her eyes soften and her lips part a little. Her expression scares you. You want to run from this all together and leave it to another day, but God knows that you won’t be getting any sleep with this weight in your head. It’s comical, almost hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that it’s your relationship with her on the line.

You like to think that she can’t express her answer into words, so she kisses you instead. You’ll never know why she chose to kiss you, but it's sweet and so powerful that you can kinda live with that gap in your knowledge. You may or may not have teared a little, and you may or may not have melted into her lips a little too quickly. What you can say for certain: when you find yourself back in those eyes, panting with your face between her hands—the words ‘I love you’ escape your mouth faster than you can think. You don’t say it for the sake of it; you say it cause you mean it. You want her to know that you’ll fight for this relationship, that you’ll fight for her.

And it makes her smile. 

“I’m like, in love with your goofy ass,” she mutters, thumb tracing a path along your cheek. “So don’t you ever think that I’d drop you for some slick-back fuck face.”

That’s more than enough for you. Her smile is contagious as you hold her waist. “Crude. I love you, Miyeon.”

“Yeah. I heard you the first tim—”

Of course: you don’t wait for a finished reply to kiss her. It’s a practice, almost a common tongue at this point.

Miyeon lets her hands fall, gets her arms around your neck while you reacquaint your lips with hers. She’s lovely, fucking divine and maybe even a little addictive—straight up dangerous if you’re to sum it up. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being manipulated, and it’s really only for a second because she’s got her teeth in your bottom lip and she’s dragging them towards her. She wants more—more of you and less of this need to prove her love. She touches your chest, palm flat against your flesh as she deepens the kiss. Ignorance is bliss. Believing her is a sort of ignorance. Kissing her deepens that ignorance, makes you all the more blissful.

“I need you,” you breathe, unashamed by your blatant desire to have her right now. Really: you can’t get enough of her smell right now. “Please Miyeon… Let me be the only one.”

She smiles softly. She runs her fingers through your hair. “Baby, you already are.”

You press your forehead against hers. “I know. But can we just…”

You can’t really verbalise what you want out of this. You want Miyeon, but you don’t just want the idea and concept of her. You long for that connection with her, that union and that closure, not just some fleeting, superficial feelings. This woman is quite literally one of your dreams. It’s selfish to say this, but you want that security—something tangible to know that you’re really hers and she’s really yours, a piece of her that you can hold on to that helps rid your heart of those little demons. You hope she can understand this through your closed eyes.

And something about the way she fixes your hair tells you that she does.

“It’s okay,” she assures you, her other hand finding that one spot on your chest. It feels like it’s touching your heart directly, calming it. “I get it,” her fingers wrap around the knot of your tie, loosening it till it unravels completely. “You’re hurt and scared. Frankly, so am I.”

Miyeon wraps the tie up neatly in her fist. Her hands cross over each other as she reaches down to grab the hems of her shirt. It slips off her, a layer peeled away. Then the tie rolls down from her hand. 

“I want you to know”—she drapes the tie around her shoulders, the thin portion ever so slightly shorter than the broader portion as they hang on either side of those perky mounds—“I will do everything I can to protect you and us.”

She tosses the smaller end across her body, cloth flying over her left shoulder and dangling behind her arm. The broader end is wrapped around her neck—once, twice. 

Miyeon steps closer and takes your hand. The broad end of the tie gets slotted into your palm. 

“And even though I might have to be seen with him,” she coos, and she’s a little clumsy as she reaches for the thin end behind her, but she gets it on her second or third try. “Even though I might have to hold his hand in public,” she slips it between her skin and the loop she’s made, ties it off. “You should know: I am yours.”

She shocks you into silence as always. You know what she’s insinuating. You know that she knows what she’s insinuating. Your eyes search her for consent, and you find that it’s the only thing you can make out behind the veneer of a tender gaze. She checks the makeshift leash she’s made. It’s not coming off anytime soon.

You wrap some of the tie around your hand. Your fingers close around the silky fabric. 

(Just so we’re clear: the tie may look horrible on you, but she looks amazing in it.)

You pull.

And it’s just that. 

Clothes come off, lips meet, sighs fly through the room. Her hands explore you, grab you, pump you; your kisses find the best parts of her, the parts you love the most and the parts she loves attention at. The tie never leaves your hand, and you give it a tug or two when you get your digits in her on the couch. You’ll never forget the way she looks when her head is forced up just after it whips back, the glassy look in her eye as she begs for you, keens for you. Never in your life has anything this debauched been so intimate. You’ve never heard sighs out of you and her so luscious. 

“Princess,” you quite literally growl as you address her. It’s not necessary, but the squelching of your fingers in her slick brings out something in you—a part of you that’s wild and somewhat untamed. “I fucking love the way you moan.”

Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah? She husks, her eyes going half-lidded in pleasure when you get your fingers in the same, soft, tender spot on the roof of her pussy. “It’s all for you. Ngh— A-All yours…”

And you don’t know how you can not believe her at this point.

You pull at the tie. She almost straightens completely. You kiss her. Her moans send pleasant vibrations down your windpipe.

It’s all so perfect. And it somehow gets even more perfect when she cums—waves of heat burning through her system; eyes shut and mouth agape; hands around your neck and your name spilling from her lips in a mix of curses (that mostly contain the word ‘fuck’); body convulsing and twitching in ways that make a low grunt emerge from the depths of your chest as you watch her. She’s beautiful—your beautiful princess.

When it’s over, you let the tie go slack. She crashes against the couch, forcing air back into her lungs with deep breaths. There’s sweat on her face, her body. Your hand finds its place on her tummy as you place small kisses on the corner of her lip, her jaw. Her skin is moist and sticky.

“Have me,” and it’s more so of a demand than a request. “Take me. However you want, wherever you want,” she runs her hands through your hair, “You’re the only one I want.”

You let out a low hum. It lightly vibrates at the base of your throat as you catch her earlobe between your lips. 

“Has anyone told you how fucking beautiful you are?” you can’t help but ask. She searches your face or a minute, then she chortles.

“About half the world,” she replies. “But it means the most coming from you.”

(Oh… That line really means the fucking world to you.)

You kiss her, hard. It’s messy, sloppy, and at some point you guys are scrambling to get on top of each other. She wins at one point, and so she rides you—dropping and rising hard and fast on your cock like a lewd merry-go-round carriage. She’s relentless, letting your cock fill her while she blanks out and just lets herself cry and moan like you don’t have thin walls in your apartment. You let her please herself, throw herself down onto your cock again and again till you decide that it’s your turn to have some fun. The tie is your friend, and you use it to pull her real close to not too kindly hiss your instructions into her ear. 

You’d kill to see the look in her eyes again.

And so you have her against the nearest wall in less than a minute, her back flushed against it and one of her legs bent in the crook of your arm. She reaches between your bodies, grabs your throbbing shaft and rubs your tip against her slit. You feel the heat of her pussy—the desire and depravity that burn in her core. You can’t believe she’s yours.

“I’m gonna put this in me,” she narrates her course of action, all breathy and silky. “It’s gonna fill me, fuck me… Maybe even cum in me.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of ourselves here,” you whisper, your hand wrapping itself back in the fabric of the tie. “That last part? I dunno… Seems a little optimistic, don’t you think?”

She pushes your head in between her folds—not all the way, but enough to part them. “And why is that?”

You pop your hips, push yourself in a little more. She inhales sharply. 

“I only cum inside good girls.”

The smile that creeps its way onto her face is wicked.

“Trust me,” her hand finds purchase on your shoulder, pads of her fingers digging into the muscle. “I’ll be the best you ever get.”

She puts her weight onto the leg in your arm. You slide into her.

And you both take a moment to enjoy the unity—the feeling of the two of you being joined as one; your out of sync heartbeats that feel like pattering raindrops around your shaft. You want to say something witty, a quip that will get a nice chuckle out of her.

All you can really manage is, “Fuck.”

And in response: “Talk less. Fuck more.”

You draw back, push in. There’s the sopping sound of your shaft going in and out of her, wet pushing into warm flesh. You groan. She sighs. 

Tight, hot, wet, divine.

And it goes without saying: when you pick up the pace, she lets you know that she loves the feeling—the stretching, the filling, the push and pull. It comes to you in the form of pure filth: words that have very little consideration for propriety and no room for decency, something along the lines of “I can’t believe you feel this good. I can’t believe this cock is mine” or “That’s it. Keep filling me. Keep fucking— Oh” or maybe even a mix of both. You can’t be certain, because between you and her, you both know that the undulating of your cock into her tight, creamy heat and the almost torturous pressure around your dick is taking you under by the second. It’s not hard to lose yourself in her when she’s basically a little piece of you. 

Like always, she let her pleasure be known through desperate noises and choked up words. “Keep going, please, fuck—don't stop,” and it sounds like it hurts but you know it’s the other way around. Her pleasure coated tongue makes the lust in her words undeniable, her half-lidded eyes ruining the argument that she’s in any pain whatsoever. You yank on her tie, her body curves closer. You need a better look at that face.

(Trust me, it’s a face you don’t want to forget. 

For lack of a better word: it’s porny as fuck.)

It's a blissful dance – the rhythmic, almost metronomical give of her thighs as you slide yourself home again and again steadily and firmly. The smacking of sweaty and sticky skins colliding is almost evenly paced, sighs and grunts filling the spaces between slaps. She follows your lead, rocks her hips accordingly, angles herself and adjusts so that she can feel you in the deepest parts of her cunt. You lift her leg a little higher, spear yourself a little deeper. You listen to your body, she listens to hers. You give in to your desires.

You don’t mean to blurt it. You don’t mean to make the sex more complicated than it already is. But it happens—it fucking happens and you can’t stop it. 

“I love you,” your voice is nothing more than a rasp. She feels so fucking good around you — squeezing, pulsing and doing every little thing that makes your jaw tighten and you legs tense. “I fucking love you, Miyeon.”

She holds your gaze, then smiles, then nods. She nods vigorously, enthusiastically. “I know… It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Your hand on the tie releases it from your grasp. You catch a bouncing breast in your hand, squeeze the tight and taut nipple with your fingers. The tie shakes violently like a snake writhing, bouncing and swaying with each firm impact against Miyeon’s skin. She mewls, pulls you in, kisses you. She lets herself come undone with her chest flushed against you and your hearts aligned as she lets the cries transfer from your mouth to hers. You pump yourself faster, harder, faster, harder. Your finger digs into the flash near her knee. Your blood is boiling, molten metal spilling over and washing over you—gold rush, acid flux, saturating you in this bliss that numbs you out. You can’t tell where your thrusts start and end. They’re blurred by the heat washing over your eyes. You can’t get enough. The way you fuck her—it feels relentless, merciless, a fire that only burns brighter and can’t be put out, fuelled by the heat of Cho Miyeon flushed against you and the sublime squeeze of her slick heat. Everything about this is hot; everything about her is hot. 

“Don’t you ever let me go,” she hisses. “Fuck— don’t ever leave. This cock is mine. You are mine.”

“Princess, I’d never,” you nuzzle yourself into the crook of her neck, pepper her nicely with kisses. “You. Only you.”

“Yeah,” and her breath is hot on the nape of your neck. “Cause I can’t ever fucking imagine anyone else filling me this fucking good. No one has ever filled me this good.”

And her fricatives feel like acid: Aqua Regia—melting straight through solid gold just to get to you. It makes you burn a little hotter, fuck her a little harder. Your heart burns at the thought of her; your brain melts at the sight of her—glassy-eyed and mouth agape while cock pumps her full of pleasure and want. She finds a spot on your shoulder, whispers her proclamation of love— “I love you I love you I love you— Fuck—”—before she buries her face into your shoulder blade. Her love is an animal call, cutting through the darkness and bouncing off the walls, reaching a soft spot in your heart that you hold for her. Nothing in this world is gonna stop you from turning her into a messy little fucktoy. 

It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe. She’s become your world, the only thing you ever want to think about. Anything that isn’t her tight little pussy is irrelevant; what isn’t her thin lips pressed against your shoulder is invalid; no pair of eyes will ever match the glassy, lust-fogged ones that Cho Miyeon possesses. Your pulse is rushing, your head is reeling, your face is flushing. You want her—all of her. You suck hard on the milky skin you’ve caught between your lips, marking her, claiming her. She has no qualms nor worries; she tilts her neck to give you better access to that lovely patch of skin that becomes your canvas. She mewls, presses her forehead harder into your body, grounding herself in the sensation of her skin on yours. 

“I’m gonna fucking fill you, Miyeon,” you drawl. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy and make a mess out of you,”

“Yeah, yes,” she’s barely holding it together at this point. “Please. Oh god please.”

Your hips move on their own now, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you pump yourself into Miyeon with the sole goal of piping her full of your hot seed. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into her in a mindless, fervent fashion, giving in to your desires and your depravity and fucking her like she’s a doll. You relish the feel of her skin in your palms; the feel of her hands pressed against your chest; the sheer, strained phonetic atrocities that rise from the depths of her throat. Your shaft glistens in the light of the room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her hot cunt, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weaker by the second. Miyeon cups your cheek, moans your name. You bury your nose deep in those silky locks of jet black hair. You need every last part of her to be close to you.

She's whimpering, eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; she’s a coiled up spring, a bundle of nerves waiting to be released. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, her throat bobs. She's coming undone, breaking a little more with each thrust of your cock. You know that she’s cumming before she announces it, and when you fuck her over the point of no return, it’s bliss.

Miyeon melts, head whips back and thumps against the wall, positively combusts on the spot and ceases to hold on to the last bits of herself. She lets herself fall through the pleasure, orgasm almost ripping through her system as she shakes in your grasp. She’s such a precious thing, yet she can look like lust itself when she’s busy cumming all over your cock and whining like her life depends on it. She’s tighter, wetter, even better to fuck. 

She really is the best you’ll ever have.

“Miyeon–”

“Just fucking cum.”

Your line; same effect. You fill her, make a creamy mess of her cunt because you can. You fuck her through it, push your load deeper with each thrust. Your cock pulses, spasms, shoots load after load after load into her pussy till you can’t take it anymore and jitter to a halt, and there’s nothing left but a filthy mess flowing out at the base of your cock where her lips are splayed the widest. It’s a sight for sure. 

(And there really isn’t a word for the moment that the two of you share in that wrinkle in time, that moment where it’s just all warm and fuzzy and you have your forehead pressed against hers.)

You cradle her in your arms, kiss her chest, her jaw, her lips. It’s tender, it’s gentle.

“We’ll figure this out,” she pants through closed eyes. “I promise you: you and me, we’re gonna figure this all out.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt it.

--

(Still here? Great. We’re getting to the good part. Get your special sock out or something.)

So the newest rage of the K-pop scene is the photo of Miyeon kissing him in a car.

It's a publicity stunt—the whole damn relationship. They are supposed to appear in love according to Miyeon, and it was his idea to kiss her. She never consented and he just did it. It’s a pretty lewd photo: up close and personal and all. You can see his lips on hers, his hand on her breast and they’re like, clearly getting it on in three. Pretty steamy if you do say so yourself,

(...)

Oh fucking hell. Who are you kidding describing this photo like you’re just viewing an artwork. It makes your blood boil, and speaking to her after seeing this photo feels like dancing to alarm bells when you feign ignorance and just talk with her like it’s a normal Wednesday. You’re gonna hurt yourself at this rate, but she really means too much.  

She told you that he forced his lips on hers, you believe her to the best of your ability. You kiss her, tell her it’s okay, that she’s doing what she has to do to protect the two of you. She says she’s sorry, that she feels like she’s failed you. You kiss her again—albeit a little half-hearted—and assure her once more that it’s okay. You want to nurse her pain, but you also have your own problems to deal with.

And as if this fucking actor hasn’t interfered enough with your relationship, he has the audacity to call during the make up sex.

Her phone starts to ring when she’s on her hands and knees on your bed, and you’re fucking her into the mattress like she’s some pliant plaything. There's a rage inside you that hasn’t been quenched, and you don’t realise that it’s bringing out that dark side of you till you spank her ass a little harder than you intended to. It doesn’t help that you kinda twitch when you hear her yelp, and it really doesn’t help when she tightens after the second spank. The phone only continues to vibrate next to her head.

“Baby,” she rasps. “My phone…”

“Pick it up,” you hiss. “Pick it up and let whoever the fuck it is hear how you’re being fucked like a slut.”

Degradation has never really been a kink of yours, but you know she’s kinda into it. Even so, you’re not calling her a slut because you consciously want to. You feel like an asshole for being angry, kinda hate yourself a little for not being able to accept that she’s doing what she needs to do. And then you kinda hate her for making you hate yourself and— Ugh. It just gets more complicated the more you try and rationalise it. You can’t stop the hot blood from coursing through your system, fuelling your firm strokes into her tight heat like you’re trying to inject all the hate in your body into her. 

Her hand that was once clawing at the sheets now reaches for her phone. You keep thrusting as she flips it over, keep thrusting as she shows you the caller ID, keep thrusting as she looks back at you with a gaze that says “are you sure?”. You hope she isn’t met by that dark look you often see when you look at yourself in the mirror after a new headline about them hits your screen. It’s funny how one person can flip the idea of make-up sex on its head—turn it from something so tender and beautiful to a spite-fuelled fuck fest that’s gonna make things more complicated. She hasn’t even picked up the fucking phone, but you can hear his sick voice in your head as you drive yourself deeper into her cunt, fuck her harder and faster than you knew you could. She’s in no state to answer the phone, yet her finger taps on the ‘accept call’ button. 

(She would’ve rejected it if she could, but she got into some deep shit the last time that happened. Must’ve been threatened or something for her to pick up the phone while she’s getting fucked.)

“Hello?” she does her best to steady her voice, and she’s doing pretty well considering how loud the smacking of skin against skin is. She presses the phone a little tighter against her left ear. You don’t intend on stopping. Let him hear her being owned by you for all you care. “T-This is a bad… a bad time.”

Damn straight it is. 

Your hand caresses the curve of her ass. You spank her again, making sure that it’s loud and it leaves a red patch on her smooth, creamy skin. She contacts around you, gasps a little as you bend down and pin her down with your weight on her back.

“W-What?”—and it feels like she’s talking to both of you. You hiss into her other ear. “I’m going to fuck you like this,” your voice is actually a snarl, a dark one. Your body is energized by the promise of taking and ravaging the helpless, prone woman beneath you, your words dripping with loathing and your thrusts brimming with spite. “I’m going to fuck you hard and rough, and you’re gonna keep him on the fucking line so he can hear it.”—“No I’m… Jogging.”

She’s terrible at lying. You let her know through each thrust—hard and deep, uncaring for her pleasure or her comfort or anything other than your need to bury yourself again and again inside her body. There’s the need to dominate her, the need to make her yours. You hope this guy can act like he doesn’t care that his supposed girlfriend is being prone-boned by another guy, act like he isn’t totally aware of the fact that Cho Miyeon’s body is never gonna belong to him at any point as long as you’re alive. 

(Keep this between us: but with the way you're going down on her, it feels like the message is being transferred to her and not him.)

You hear indistinct chatter. Miyeon bites down on her lower lip, undoubtedly holding back the stream of cries and sighs and lyrical monstrosities that threaten to burst forth. With her eyes she begs, challenges you to do more. You could be reading her wrong by like, a hundred percent. Doesn't matter, not when you can take every liberty with her body because you couldn’t give more of a shit. There’s more indistinct chatter on the other end of the phone; Miyeon says something along the lines of “no. Don’t buy the choker for me”. You give her a choker—raise yourself up and reach around her to wrap your fingers around her throat. Her whole body tenses when you apply pressure around her windpipe. In no universe does this guy not know what’s going on right now.

Cause she’s there—right there, all choked up and struggling to breathe while the fucker keeps yap-yap-yapping away like he’s some fucking guard dog. It irritates the hell out of you. At some point, he kinda has to hear a squelch or smack or two, maybe even a moan or a cry as well. But he stays on the phone, and not once does Miyeon ever have to address the question of whether she’s being fucked on the other end of the call or not. You thought you were ignorant, but this guy is a whole new fucking level of blissfully ignorant. It feels like his sole purpose is to drive a wedge between the two of you, to make you hate her because you hate him. Again: it’s kinda complicated to say exactly what it feels like to be in this situation. 

And you can imagine the moans she wants to let out. They’ll tumble out of her lips like water down a waterfall, and they’ll mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you lean back down to kiss her neck, stopping at one spot that you know will be good to mark her and sucking hard. It feels like getting back at her—doing all the things you want to do while she can't speak her mind freely (and you know how tortuous it is for her when she can’t moan while she’s being railed like this). You’re not sure why you would ever need to get back at her when she’s done nothing wrong, but I guess it helps to synthesise and dumb down the emotions you’re feeling at the moment.

“Tonight?” she asks. Then she buries her head into the sheets because she can’t hold back this moan that almost explodes from her chest. You’re not squeezing really hard around her throat, mind you—only enough to make her a little uncomfortable, like a tie has been wrapped around her neck. She's getting off on it though: her walls squeeze you a little tighter; her breaths become more ragged and short. Honestly, she's taking your cock so well, and you communicate this to her with a growl. It makes her shudder a hell lot. 

Her other hand clutches the sheets, spasms. She’s pliant, she always is, but it feels like you can wrack her tiny body with so much more pleasure as you keep a hand around her throat and keep your dick pumping in and out of her. You wish you had a mirror to see that pretty face warping under the heat of her lust. You kinda forget that she’s still calling him when she speaks again, cause she follows up with, “I can’t— I can’t believe…”

And if that damn phone call wasn’t happening, she’d be saying something along the lines of “I can’t believe that you’re fucking me this good”.

“Sorry. I got cut off,” she pants. “Yeah… It’s harder to hear me when I’m running.”

Now she's talking to you. The reply is to him, but she’s addressing you. You take her up on it, and the slapping and squelching start to ricochet off the walls and ceiling. What you’re doing should be considered as a whole sin in itself. Technically, it’s adultery, but you’re not too sure if you can even classify this as something that simple. This is jealousy, hate and love mashed into one—a mix of things that kinda shouldn’t go together when you have a woman who’s quite literally like putty beneath you. It doesn’t help that she's this hot, this tight, this wet. She’s straining her moans, and it’s so cute that you want to choke her a little harder. You don’t do it (just clarifying some doubts here), but you almost do. 

“R-Really?”—you’re almost certain that what comes next is gonna be addressed to you. You can imagine her signing your name off on it—”wow… That must be so fucking good.”

Bingo. Gotta say: she’s kinda smooth with it.

“I’m fine. Out… Out of breath” you don’t know how she manages to keep her voice steady. “Y-yeah… I’m gonna come… Don’t worry.”

You hope that she can hold on.

You don’t know how long more you fuck her for while she’s on the phone. It’s a blur; you kinda only see red and you’re still choking her out even after she hangs up. It’s only when she goes, “Oh, fuck, daddy—!” with this breathless, perverse, pleading tone and a voice that’s so loud; her body unable to do anything other than gasp and moan and urge you to really give it to her, and when she says “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” like you’re not doing just that (and only that) at the moment that she’s hung up on him. Now she has every facility available to focus on the rock hard meat she’s receiving. You feel filthy, like you’re doing something wrong.

But hey: the sex is hot and Miyeon’s kinda into it, so you keep going. You keep fucking her into the bed—the same way you would if you were fucking her against the wall or in the shower or against any flat surface, really. It’s twisted, it’s dark, it’s hot; the angle her body is at lets you drive yourself deeper and faster and harder into her wet, tight and hot pussy like you never have before. You’re experiencing a novelty, a new chapter.

(Caveat: is it kinda messed up that you call her a cocksleeve? Not really? Huh.)

“God Miyeon…” you feel like the voice that comes from your throat is not your own. “You’re such a good fucking cocksleeve for me,” and you may or may not be tightening the grip around her throat as you speak. “So tight and wet for me. You’re such a good fuck.”

“Oh daddy, fuck you’re so big and deep in me,” she gasps. She has lots to say, even though air is like a fucking luxury for her. She rarely calls you Daddy, yet she’s using her precious air to do so now. “Fuck, fuck me as hard as you can, daddy! Do whatever you want with me! Own me! Take me!”

You barely recognise the woman she’s become: depraved, sordid and one hell of a hot mess. You love it. It’s fantastic. Fucking fantastic.

And she falls apart under you not long after, writhing and moaning and twitching as this beautiful mess of a woman you’ve made out of her. You want to cum in her, really own her; but your thoughts are fueled too much by the hate in your heart that they're wilder than anything she can ever imagine. 

You pull out of Miyeon, your shaft glistening in the dim light. You get off the bed, pull her away with you. Her mouth opens to say something. You kiss her—shut her up. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention.

“You’ve gotten enough loads inside your pussy,” you husk. “Get on your knees. I want your mouth.”

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You push down firmly on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Miyeon on her knees with her pretty little princess face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you paint her face in a messy spray of cum. 

And you know what? You’ll do just that.

Of course, Miyeon perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth, grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other. The pace she launches into is hard and fast; blurring her chocolate hair and your vision—taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with rapid urgency while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, the seal sublime; and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. She’s gorgeous, even more so when she’s got cock in her mouth.

Your hand finds a clump of her black, sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. You push her head down onto your cock, pop your hips and start thrusting with firm, slow strokes. She exceeds every expectation you ever had, adapting to you, changing to please you. Your eyes shut involuntarily. Your brain blocks out all sensations that aren’t the wet, hot cavern of Miyeon’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. The backstroke is somehow even better, that pretty little mouth endeavoring to suck you right back in when you draw yourself back out. It feels like time stands still, but Miyeon’s still in motion, and she’s the one making you feel like all the natural laws in the world are being defied.

A small part of you knows that you have to see it happening in order to truly believe it’s all real, so you force your eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Smoky eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you, watering, projecting perverse pleasure with a gaze; hollow cheeks and a seemingly unhinged jaw to accommodate your length; spit leaking from the corners of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

“Fuck I—” is all you manage to say (or maybe ‘grunt’ is a better word) before your orgasm takes the reins to your body. It overwhelms your senses, but you force your eyes open to watch as you pull Miyeon off your dick just in time. Thick, glistening cum erupts from your tip to land on Miyeon’s face, on her cheeks and nose, painting her smoky features with pearlescent, warm ropes. You paint her face with your hot white seed, and it’s far from an elegant piece of art. She doesn’t look anything like one of the French girls she wanted to be painted like, but the look of utter lust on her needy features is still breathtaking—mouth open, tongue out, eyes closed in delight and bliss.

Ugh, she's one hell of a woman, isn’t she?

And when it’s all over, she takes your cock in her hand and licks off the drops that she’d been deprived of. 

“If you ever do that again.” you love the raspy touch to her voice. The lilt in it is doing wonders too. “I’m gonna make sure that you’ll be calling your mom the next time I blow you.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “Whatever you say, princess…”

The hate seems to fade. Your heartbeat slows.

Maybe this relationship is salvageable. Maybe you guys can last.

You talk to her about it afterwards and apologise sincerely. She says that she didn’t think much of it when it was happening. Then you guys are at peace again.

(What do you think? How long does the honeymoon last? A month more? 

Two?

Generous.

Try one. Fucking. Week.)

--

“Okay. Hands down: this is the best Jjamppong I’ve eaten.”

The growing pile of clam shells beside her bowl tells you that you did something right. It’s the first time you've made this dish, and there’s always that lingering worry that you fucked up somewhere along the way when you eat it for the first time. The soup seasoning is a little off in some places (you don’t know where exactly), but it’s nothing a dash of fish sauce and some chilli flakes can’t fix.

“I mean,” Miyeon continues, speaking between small yet generous mouthfuls of noodles. “You only get better and better at cooking. I don't know how you do it.”

You give a half-hearted smile. Your noodles have kinda gone cold by now: you’ve been stirring them around with your chopsticks for the past five minutes or so. Appetite has become a luxury for you these days, and it’s one of those days where a new article about him and her comes out, one of those days where you both agreed to put a pin on it and just enjoy life. “Well… It’s a lot of love and care, I guess.”

“You can say that again,” she smiles. “Thank you for making dinner. No one cooks like you.”

“Thank you for cutting scallions,” you say. “No one cuts them like you do.”

She laughs and waves it off, then takes another slurp of her noodles. “I honestly don’t know if I like your tomato soup over this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My tomato soups have always been the peak of my cooking prowess.”

“I really don’t know!” she tells you, grabbing another clam from the centre of the table. “This stuff is all smoky and tasty… It just feels like home and I—”

You drop your chopsticks into your bowl. Soup splashes onto the table.

“How do I keep living like this, Miyeon?” you ask. There are only so many pins in your possession and you feel like you’ve used all of them. “I’d love to sit here and talk to you about how I made this meal like everything’s okay, and this is just Thursday and maybe we’ll get ice cream later… But it’s not like that right now.”

Miyeon takes your hand in hers. 

“I can’t pretend like things are the same when everything’s… different,” you close your eyes, take a breath. “I love you, Miyeon. You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me and… I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You can hear her take a breath to start speaking. You really want to let her, but there’s too much on your chest. 

“I know you’re doing what you have to, for me, for us,” you want—oh so badly––to just bury your face in your hands right now. But once you do that, the tears will inevitably come and your ability to speak your mind will disappear faster than you can regain yourself. “But it hurts. It hurts to see you holding his hand, walking around and… and kissing him.”

Your heart stings when you see the tears welling in her eyes when you find it in you to look at her. The last thing you want is to see her in pain. This next bit hurts you even more to say, but you know that it’s better to tell her how you feel.

“I feel like I’m an open wound… and you're just pouring salt on me,” and you start to choke up a little. “I’m sorry to put it that way but—”

“No,” she interjects. “No. I get it… I-I understand.”

And for a moment, it feels like everything's okay for a bit.

Then she comes around the table to kiss you, and hell’s bells start ringing all over again. It hurts to kiss her, but it feels so right.

Miyeon leans into you. She kisses you. She pulls you close. She lets you run your hands across her body, down her back. You stand. Your tongue pokes into her mouth. One of you says I need you and you don’t know who it is.

And like when things were okay: you guys don’t make it to the couch.

You get naked. She gets naked. The sex isn’t about pleasure or thrill. It’s the aching within the both of you that drives your shaft into her cunt, rocks her hips as you fuck her. You quite literally make love with her, your strokes passionate and fervent; her cries are earnest and wanton, full of longing. For long moments when her chest is against yours, your hearts are aligned. You wish that you could fuse them together, take away the pain by making the two of you one singular person there on the floor. It feels possible when your dick is throbbing inside of her, pumping her slick with rock hard meat again and again and again.

But the thing that sucks the most is that you can’t do that. You’re two separate people with two separate problems that kinda overlap at the same point.

You have her bent over the counter, propped up on the kitchen sink—anywhere you could reach was a surface for you and her. And normally you’d be a bit of a party pooper about fucking on these surfaces, but today you really can’t give more of a shit. You want to feel like everything’s okay again, like you’re not fighting for your life to hold on to this relationship that’s being torn apart day by day, night by night.

And you may have pieces of each other deep within your souls, but they don’t seem to fit anymore.

When it’s all over and you’re panting against the dishwasher, reality hasn’t changed and you’re still torn. You have a wound that only you can heal through acceptance, yet you can’t find it in you to accept that this is the life you have to lead. You want to love her. You want it so bad. But you can’t find the will in you to love her when there’s another man in the picture, albeit that her love for him isn’t even minimally a concept. You can’t nurse her injuries either, and it hurts to know that as her delicate hands cradle your cheeks. Her touch is perfect, her breaths are soft on your skin. The two of you have tried so hard to make it work, yet you’ve only come so far. The solution to this problem is like thousands of hot fire pokers stabbing you simultaneously, and it only hurts because it’s the only way forward for the both of you. 

“Miyeon,” you can’t quite believe what you’re about to say. The tears streaming down your  cheeks aren’t making anything easier. “Let’s break up.”

(And this isn’t for pity: but you cry yourself to sleep after she leaves that night. Ain’t it fun being heartbroken? You would know how it feels, right cupcake?)

--

Three months, two weeks and one day (about 105 days if you really want to be fully accurate. Go write that down somewhere) pass uneventfully—and by that you mean, you never picked up any of the 138 calls that came from Miyeon. It would have been 140 calls if you hadn’t picked up two of them when you were drunk. But hey, she was drunk too. So it kinda cancels out… at least you like to think that it does. It does, doesn't it? Two negatives make a positive? 

(No?)

Ah well. Anyway,

(Okay, caveat, again: you’re thankful that she hadn’t showed up to the apartment once throughout this period. You’ve been stuck between your anger and a blame that you can’t face because you don’t know if you blame yourself or her or him. Drinking doesn’t help to lighten the ache in your chest, so you tried exercising: running, swimming, even pilates; you tried to pick up music—bought a guitar and everything. Your fingers still hurt when you play chords, and you’re considering giving up at some point; you tried to learn how to make those pain in the ass French desserts, and now you have a fire extinguisher permanently installed in your kitchen because you somehow managed to set fire to macarons; and you tried to write. That didn’t go well. 5 Wattpad users politely asked you to kill yourself. Not fun.

One way or another, your thoughts would end up drifting back to Miyeon, and you’d have to sit in place and kinda stare into the distance for a little. And yes, you did question your choice to end things with her many times if anyone is asking. You kinda hate yourself a little for not trying to make things work, and you also kinda hate her for not insisting on staying to make things work. 

It took two of the three months for you to realise that you were both kinda in the wrong. But it’s already too late by then.

You couldn’t get a grip of yourself and fight off your internal demons; she couldn’t stop doing what she thought was right to protect the two of you. Net-net: it’s a loss for the both of you in the business of love. Now you have to look for a way forward through this grey-area mess that you’ve made, learn to live with the fact that maybe you guys just weren't meant to be in the grand scheme of things.

The updates on Miyeon’s relationship with that damned actor kept coming, but it stopped as of late. But for a while, they were all the rage for gossip blogs. Every now and then, a shitty title like “Cho Miyeon stuns with her visuals on her date” would pop up, and you have to swipe away quickly before you accidentally tap on the notification and see her holding hands with him. You’ll admit that you opened some of the articles just to get a look at her face, then smile to yourself for a bit before you fight the urge to punch the spot next to her where Squid Game wannabe is smiling. You’ve succeeded so far.

You kept away from Jjampong and tomato soup with grilled cheese too. It’s hard to take your butter bell down from the fridge without tearing a little, and the fish sauce and chilli flake panacea for food doesn't apply to a broken heart by the way (it’s just really salty and spicy. You don’t know what you were thinking. Probably drunk. 0/10, please, please, please do not try). The two dishes are too homely; their tastes remind you of her.

Okay. Let’s ‘anyway’ for real this time.)

Yeah, so uh, remember how you said that sometimes the news you give each other can be a little heart-attack-inducing, so it’s better that your loves are pretty bland? Yep… Sad to say that the same confirmed hypothesis still stands, even when you guys are on day 106 of your break up.

This time the news comes in another headline—and you mean like front page, breaking news headline—on Tuesday night. Wonderwall isn’t treating you too well. You’re pretty sure that your finger tips might be turning purple. Your phone buzzes next to you like crazy, just like it did that night, and it’s like having an iPhone seizure. You don’t think too much when you put down the guitar and pick up your device. 

And you only read the first six words to give yourself a valid reason to reset your miscall streak with Miyeon.

Idol Cho Miyeon Slapped In Public…

(The title was a lot longer than that. You should know it since you’re here in the first place.)

It’s in moments like this when you kinda wish that speed dial was still a thing. (I mean there's siri and all, but do you really have time for that right now?) In a blur of great clumsiness, you open your contacts and experience no difficulty in locating her number again. She’s on the top of your miscall list, so it really takes no wizard to figure this out.

You hate that she’s letting it ring for so long. Every brr brr makes you tremble a little more in your seat. If your mum could see you now, you’d probably get an earful for your bad habit of biting your nails.

She finally picks up the phone. It’s good to hear her voice. “Hey…”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Now you realise that in your hurry to check on her, you’ve yet to rehearse what to say to her. The debate between your head and gut almost tears you in two. 

“You okay?” you finally manage to blurt after some struggle. “I saw the news… Just wanted to check if, you know, you’re still up and kicking…”

You hear that familiar scoff from the other side of the phone. “Please. You know that it takes more than that to take me down.”

If your ears don't deceive you, you can hear a bit of a strain in her voice. She hates it when you jump to conclusions though, so you leave it as it is for now. “That’s… That’s great.”

And it’s silent again. If you were in the business of losing her interest, you’d be making crazy profits right now. Okay, better end this fast.

“Well uh,” you begin, stopping for a second to swallow some saliva to soothe your semi parched throat. “I guess—”

“Can I come over?” 

Like she always does, she shocks you into silence. Your throat dries up. Your mouth is the Sahara. 

“I… I miss you… if my miss-calls weren't clear enough about that,” she chuckles. You swear you hear a sniffle. “I’d like to see you again,” and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, “for closure of course… and maybe tomato soup?”

Your heart joins the debate between your head and gut. It wins.

Minutes later, your butter bell is open, a knife scraping out the last bits of creamy butter out of it so that it can be used to evenly butter the other side of your bread. You’re moving on instinct, with glee and excitement. You’re not sure why you’re happy. You’re just happy—happy that you’re gonna see her; happy that you can prepare this dish again without the knowledge that you’re not gonna see her when you turn. It isn’t till the doorbell rings that the joy fades, and in its place comes that familiar tension of a two tonne weight wrapped around your chest. 

You aren’t sure why she rings the door when you haven’t changed the passcode to the lock. If she’s trying to be polite? You appreciate it. If she just forgot the pin? Well… you wouldn’t put that past her either, really. Your gut, head and heart agree you that it’s most likely the latter, and you kinda have to remind yourself as you open the door that she's just as forgetful as anyone else.

“Hi,” you catch yourself staring at her. You don’t mean to look at her dress first, but it’s the first thing your eyes are drawn to; it's been a while since you’ve seen her in anything other than a t-shirt and shorts. The white dress she’s wearing is bedazzled out, the light that’s reflected off of it catching you and making you a deer in headlights for a bit. Then you snap out of it. Your gaze travels up to her face and… “You look… Fucking terrible.”

You love her eyes and you love to watch them roll. “Thanks. You look not bad yourself. Gained some weight?”

You try not to stare. You fail—horribly you might add. 

But in your defence, it’s hard not to look at the purple spot on her milky skin. 

Miyeon covers her cheek. She looks down at your feet like there's something really interesting about them. “Are you, you know, letting me in? Or are we just gonna keep standing here?”

You blink. “R-Right.”

And soon she’s settled into her usual seat, nibbling on some grilled cheese while you ladle out her tomato soup into a bowl. It feels like nothing has changed, but you know that’s not true. Both of you know that everything’s different, that you can’t just give her tomato soup and peck her on the cheek.

“So you play guitar now?” she catches you off guard as the bowl makes a small thunk against the table. It’s in the same spot she always places it, and you know because a woodring has formed in that area. You follow her gaze and see that she’s spotted your Fender on the couch. 

“Sort of?” you reply, a little uncertain in how to rate your abilities. “Just basic stuff, you know?”

She smirks and picks up her spoon, starts chipping away at her soup “So you’re finally digging up the singer-songwriter in you… Good on you, man.”

Again, you find yourself staring at the bruise. It’s a deep shade of purple, splotchy and a sight for sore eyes. From the looks of it, he hit her hard. There’s a burning in your chest—a mix of grief, pity and anger as you watch her eat her food. You wish that you could’ve been there to stop it. You wished that you could’ve just dated her under different circumstances so that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve gotten that ending you wanted. You don’t know how she’s ever gonna cover that up when—

“If you’re gonna get something for this thing, go do it,” she mutters. “Chivalry hasn’t died completely, right?”

You nod and scuttle off. It’s easy to lose track of how long you’ve been staring when you’re lost in your thoughts. Is it scary how this feels like just another conversation between you two? 

The ice pack from when she bought that ice cream cake was still in the freezer, and it’s chilly in your hands as you grab it and return to the table. She has finished her soup—not a single scrap left inside the bowl. She must be starving.

Her grilled cheese is half eaten in her hand; she stares into the distance as she chews. 

(And she’s as beautiful as she can ever be, by the way. A lot of people haven’t seen her the way you see her, and you’re kinda glad that you get to witness that tender part of her that she rarely shows to cameras. It’s… It’s hard to describe what it means to know that someone like her finds it this easy to be herself around you, but you know it’s an honour and a blessing.

But when you're looking at her with your rose-tinted lenses stripped away from you, the notions you hold towards vulnerability become contradictory, because on one hand you know that she’ll never hurt you the way she did, but on the other you know that she’s not the same person when she’s not around you. So at the end of the day, you’re just kinda left figuring out which side of her is the real her. Do you believe what the Cho Miyeon you know tells you? Or do you believe what the Cho Miyeon the world knows? It gets confusing, makes you wonder why she ever has to put up two fronts in the first place. 

Then again, it’s not exactly her fault: she does what she has to so she can stay afloat. No industry is free from dirt. Some are just filthier than others.

I guess what I’m getting at is that… she’s this contradiction in my mind. I want to believe her, but I can’t, yet I still love her like she’s just a regular human and our lives are just a little messy. I know there's this whole argument about the fact that idols are humans too and all, but I guess it’s kinda… undermined? Yeah—undermined by the fact that they can’t exactly lead ‘normal’ lives once they’re famous. Look at me, using these big words.

So I guess… I guess dating her was like the worst of all blessings and the best of all curses. Does that make sense?

…

Ugh. I’m blabbering. 

Sorry cupcake, I’ll get back to it.)

And maybe you forget that she isn’t your girlfriend anymore, or maybe you just kinda blank out in the moment, or maybe you just wanted to do it. For whatever reason: you call her name, and when she turns, the ice pack in your hand is gently applied against her face. You don’t think much of it for like, three or four seconds. But when her wide eyes finally register in your head, there’s a moment where your breath is caught in your throat. 

This is important, so you should know: the silence is fucking deafening. 

She swallows the bit of sandwich in her mouth. “I refused to sleep with him, and he hit me like a girl. Fucking embarrassing on his part,” and there’s that smile on her face as she speaks, the same one that she loves to flash your way when she told you that she loved you. “Barely felt it. Light work.”

You can’t resist—your other hand cradles her unblemished cheek. “Miyeon…”

She closes her eyes. She knows that tone you’re using, the one that’s like ‘don’t lie to me’ or ‘it’s okay, you can tell me’. “Look: when the man that loved you the way no one else loved you breaks up with you, nothing can be more painful than that,” she whispers. Her throat bobs a little. She furrows her brows as her eyes squeezed themselves shut themselves a little tighter. “And that man is you by the way…” her voice cracks, her eyes open, “don’t know if I was clear enough.”

And you kinda have to kiss her after that. It’s a good line… and she’s, like, smoking hot right now. She always is.

The familiarity of her lips against yours almost makes you melt. The ice pack drops from your hand, your palm taking its place on her face. You kiss her like you used to. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her. You kiss her like you want nothing else but her because you want nothing else but her. She’s home – Jjamppong and Grilled Cheese with Tomato soup — and you don’t ever want her to leave again.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, and you wipe the tear trailing down her cheek. “I should have never… We should have never—”

You shush her with your lips. She lets herself melt into you, her hands running through your hair the way she would sometimes when she called you crazy or baby. You don’t realise how much you’ve missed her touch till now.

“We were both wrong,” you tell her once you break away (rather reluctantly). “So how about we just call it a truce?”

She nods, and she does it enthusiastically. “If it’s cool with you…”

You scoff. “Why would it not be?” and your thumb gently caresses her bruise gently. You want to kill him, but you’ll save that for another time. “I’m the one who suggested it… Guess Chivalry is not all dead, huh?”

And it’s good to hear her laugh again.

“Come here you big idiot,” she giggles, and she kisses you again. 

Then you dive down to her collarbone when you can’t take it anymore. And the rest is history repeating itself.

You know: it feels like you’ve been picked up from the ground. Miyeon has come to get you… she's come to get you.

Maybe everything’s okay after all.

--

(And uh… The media covers the rest. What was it? Like, two weeks later? 

Ah whatever. You know what happens, don’t you? It’s pretty crazy, made headlines and all.

CUBE has some really good lawyers… And liars. Almost the same thing.)

--

“So that’s the story?” 

Nursing your third bottle of cider, you chuckle. You’d thought by fleshing out whole smuts in verbal form would have chased her away by now, yet here she is. Then again: she is an old friend of yours, so you guessed that she’d be rather adjusted to your bullshit. “Are you sure you’re an investigative journalist?” you question her, “I thought you’d ask something more along the lines of ‘what happens after?’.”

From across the booth seat, Chou Tzuyu shoots you a smirk. 

“The news covered it. Why should I pour salt into old wounds?” she admits. Her glass of wine swirls, manipulated expertly by her delicate fingers. “Anyway, I think I got… The main gist of it. Unless you have more information regarding the restraining order filed against you by CUBE, I have no further questions.”

You roll your eyes. No, you do not have any new information about why CUBE decided that you were a danger to Cho Miyeon, and you’ll never know if Miyeon knows either. She was out of town when it happened, and all she knows is what the news reported: you’re allegedly a stalker and hence a threat. You only know that she called and texted you frantically after, but…

You know what? Maybe you’ll think about this another time.

“You do know that, like, you're kinda bad at this right?” and you set your cider bottle aside, letting it join the almost empty whiskey bottle you bought yourself. You fold your hands and lean into the table. The world spins a little. “I don’t know why you’re prying, but I’m guessing that you heard something from the grapevine that you were itching to hear more about. Either that or you’re just… Could it be that you’re desperate to get something fresh, Miss Chou?”

She sips on her wine, leaves the question hanging in the air for a little as she swallows. 

“Keep this between us: I can’t trust Shuhua sometimes,” she muses. “If I’m gonna write about this, I’m gonna have to make sure that all the information I’ve gotten from her can be corroborated,” she pushes a wisp of hair behind her ear. “And for the record: I am not bad. I do my research as thoroughly as anyone else would—enough to know that you are someone who tells the truth.”

“So you’re saying that you trust me as a source?” you can’t help but scoff. “Me, the very guy that got fucked over by CUBE? I could be bigoted and biased for all you know. Or even worse: I’m lying.”

She smiles knowingly. “Respectfully, you have too much… personal voice in this recount that I might as well write an autobiography on your behalf.”

And she stuns you into silence. It occurs to you that you're a little drunk, and you’re pretty sure that you called this woman ‘cupcake’ multiple times. You’re not too sure; you don’t even have half a mind to know what you’re doing or saying.

Tzuyu gulps down the rest of her wine before she rises from her seat. 

“I best be going,” she opens her purse and fishes something out of it. She hands you a card, an address and a phone number handwritten onto it in what looks like a felt pen. “If you want your story to be heard, give me a call… Or a text. Whatever strikes your fancy. I’ll need a version of this that doesn’t include all the fucking and your drunk blabbering,” she shoulders her purse and smiles. “Can’t promise that I’ll buy you a drink to make you talk again, but I can treat you to some really good Chinese dumplings. Maybe we can catch up a little too. It’s been a while.”

You stare at the card, tracing the hooks and curves that form numbers and letters. Your eyes fix back on her. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugs, and it’s not a “I dunno” type of shrug, but more like a “the proof’s in the pudding, open your fucking eyes” type of shrug. 

“I want to report the truth, and I know you well enough to know that you want that too.”

That's right. Another series. I know I'm doing everything but finishing up Beats Me, and you can go cry a river in my asks if you want. Just kidding, I love all of you, but I want to write what I want to write. Let me have my fun, would you? Also, for the record: I did not finish this 5 days after Beats Me 7. Beats Me 7 was finished before I vanished from tumblr for a bit. This has been brewing since December. You can thank long drives and Noah Kahnan for this.

Anyway, another big thank you to @defmaybe for being such a great sport and reading through the 39 page document that showed up in their discord DMs one fine day. This fic would have been full of typos and horrible grammatical errors if it weren't for them.

Stay safe, Nichu

[ovaryacted]

EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY

─ Joel Miller x fem! reader || WC: 10.9k (oops)

SYNOPSIS: Against your best judgment, you take a flight back to your hometown in Texas to celebrate the holidays with your hectic family. Amidst the chaos started by the people you shared blood with, Joel Miller is there to mend the pieces and more.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. No-Outbreak AU. Age gap implied. [Joel is hitting 50, reader is late 20s]. Primarily Best Friend's Dad! Joel Miller. Explicit Language. Alcohol consumption. Oral sex (m & f receiving). Unprotected Sex (p/v). Kissing. Admissions of feelings. Mutual pining. Toxic family household. Mentions of past cheating. Slight homophobia & fatphobia. Patriarchal & misogynistic views on women. Mentions of childbirth and marriage. Mentions of religious upbringing. Reader is originally from Arlington, Texas & currently lives in NYC. Reader is described to have hair, wear makeup, and wear feminine clothing. Reader is very close friends with Sarah Miller. Joel is a long time family friend. Lots of drama. We all hate aunt Evelyn.

➣ Disclaimer: This story includes ignorant language & bigotry that may be offensive to people (the word queer in this fic is used in an offensive manner). The dialogue in this fic is meant to highlight the toxic household the reader came from. I do not support such usage of language.

A/N: Happy belated holidays & New Years. This fic took me much longer to finish and that really pissed me off but I'm just glad it's done. Thank you to my prima @gothcsz for the proofread, and for holding my hand along with @joeloverture as I wrote this fic cause only you guys know how much of a stressor this was for me. I apologize for any typos or repeating words I did not catch and any warnings I forgot to add. Anyways, reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated!

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

When the message from your mom came through to invite you back home for the holidays, you felt hesitant to confirm your presence back in the very place you planned to escape from years ago. Yet, the burden of familial obligation overwhelmed you, planning out the last couple of days in December to visit your folks perhaps for what felt like the last time. The trip back to Texas was dreary and long winded, a packed four almost five hour flight from New York City to Dallas with a handsy, fidgeting couple in your row almost brought you to the brink of insanity if it wasn’t for your noise cancelling headphones being your saving grace. Thankfully, you slept for the majority of the flight, waking up once to get your free ginger ale and biscoff cookies as tradition demanded, and by the second time your plane was landing in Texas.

The temperature difference took you off guard, peeling off your thermal jacket and holding it in your arm as you grabbed your carry-on and called for an uber to your hotel. The safest option for you was to pay for a room in the city to avoid your mom bribing you to extend your stay longer than you wanted.

After a day of getting situated in your hotel room and sleeping off the lingering jetlag, you mentally prepared to meet your family after much time away in the East Coast. You meticulously planned out your outfit to be the perfect balance of sensible and formal, a sweater dress cinched with a golden belt by the waist, paired with black pantyhouse and heels to match. Your makeup was equally as tasteful, natural to not distort your face, but layered enough to hide your facial imperfections.

Bringing a bottle of wine as a “welcome back home gift”, you called another Uber destined to your hometown of Arlington, Texas, a different region entirely from the tall skyscrapers you’ve grown fond of in the Big Apple. Walking up the steps of the wooden front porch you’ve known for most of your childhood, nervous fingers reach to press the doorbell, fussing with the edge of your dress and tugging it down as much as it would allow. The moment the door opened, the facade that’s kept you safe all of these years turned on like an involuntary switch, now met with your mother.

“Honey! You’ve made it.” She instantly brought you in for a hug, giving the side of your cheek a kiss. “I hope the trip wasn’t too bad, it seems like everyone wanted to travel this year.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Plus, I brought wine.” You said to her, the smile on her face widening as she took the bottle happily, stepping to the side to let you in.

Holding your trenchcoat in one arm, you stepped into your childhood home and looked over the wall of family photos in the entryway, still in the same frames and spots as you last remembered. You stalled to look over one of the frames, a family photo that was taken back when you were a pre-teen, you could tell from the animal print leggings and shin-high laced converse you wore.

Oh, how the time flew by.

There was a bunch of commotion towards the living room, standing by the archway to spot other members of your rather hectic family. Some of your aunts and older cousins gathered around the television already a few glasses of wine into the night, currently watching something you didn’t care to pay attention to, critiquing the appearances of the women on the screen as a means to feed their broken egos. Thankfully, the family members with younger children weren’t here, the slightest bit of ease settling your nervous system at the thought of not needing to monitor children that weren’t yours. You got the rundown that luckily, your mom had downsized her usual Christmas dinners, most of your extended family opting to save their money and host their own celebrations closer to home. Less people to deal with, even better for you.

Your younger sister came down the stairs once she heard of your arrival, practically jumping on her toes and waiting patiently to have you spot her. You didn’t deny her the hug she had been waiting for since hearing you were coming back home, wrapping her arms tightly around you in an affectionate squeeze.

“Been a while pipsqueak. You've gotten taller since the last time I visited.” You teased her, taking in her slightly mature appearance as if it were the first time you were meeting her despite the facetime calls shared between you. Really, she was the only member of your immediate family you kept in touch with nowadays, the only person you’d want to speak to anyway.

“Yeah yeah, I can finally reach your shoulders.” She replied with a laugh. “Thought you’d bail out this time around.”

“Didn’t think it would be too overwhelming if I visited. How’s college going? Are they treating you alright in California?”

“It’s pretty good. Biology is pretty easy, but I have the absolute worst organic chemistry professor, thankfully me and the other students have a study group so I think I’ll manage. I’m still not used to California, being close to the San Andreas fault keeps me up at night.” Your sister’s irrational fear made you giggle, your head turning over your shoulder once you heard a familiar male voice through the walls of the kitchen, your father making an appearance as he reached into the fridge for what you could imagine was a beer.

“How’s dad doing?” You asked timidly.

“Well, he’s still a bit upset about you leaving after all of these years. I don’t think he’ll ever live that down, but for the most part I think he’s alright.” Your sister’s shoulders rose and dropped in a shrug, not wishing to press on with this conversation topic.

In the midst of asking about what your mother could be cooking, the doorbell rang and your name was called from the dining room to answer it. Parting away from your sibling, you reached for the front door knob fully expecting another distant relative on the other side of the threshold holding a pan of some dish as a welcome gift.

Instead, your eyes widened to see Joel Miller standing on your porch, holding a bottle of rum you knew your father liked. He was older than you remembered with more gray on his head and in the facial hair that accentuated his upper lip and jaw. The seasonal flannel he wore looked tighter across his broad chest, the thin jacket he layered on top only accentuated his wide shoulders and thick biceps. There were a couple more wrinkles on his forehead, some additional creases you counted on the side of his eyes, still as warm and brown as you last saw them.

He grows more handsome with age you’ve come to notice.

“Hey darlin’.” The baritone of his voice washed over you suddenly, smooth in your ear like honey. It took you a second to realize you’ve been blatantly staring at him before finding words. 

“Hiya Joel. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were coming by.” Moving to the side to let him through, you tried your hardest not to stare at the length of his back as he sauntered past you.

“Your mom invited me, heard you were visitin’ so I wanted to see you. Been a while.” The idea of Joel possibly missing you brought a flutter to your chest, but you swallowed it down with a calm nod of your head.

“Yeah, I haven't been back in a long time. How’s Sarah doing? She told me she couldn’t make it for this week.” Ah yes, the mention of his daughter and your childhood friend brought a sly smile to his face.

“She’s over in Chicago celebratin’ the holidays with her boyfriend’s family. Told me she’ll be back for New Years so at least she’ll get to see her old man for a few days. She misses you, you know?”

“She definitely told me that after apologizing for not being able to see me now. I bribed her to make it up to me with a really nice gift.” You both laughed amongst yourselves, the sense of familiarity you always got with Joel in particular made it easier to talk to him, even if it’s been some time since you’ve been back home. “You look good Joel.”

It slipped out before you could take it back, misinterpreting how that could’ve come off. Yet Joel, ever the considerate man, responded with equal amounts of charisma.

“You look good too darlin’.” There was a pause, a single breath that could’ve disrupted the vibe had you cared to look into it more than you’d like. Instead, your mother came to interrupt the minor moment you were having with your best friend’s father.

“Joel! So happy you could come by.” She embraced him much like she had done when you initially came in, with Joel wrapping one thick arm around her waist and holding the rum bottle in his other hand. “You brought a gift for Joseph?”

“Couldn’t come empty handed, wouldn’t be very gentleman like.” The three of you chuckled, but you caught the way he glanced at you as he spoke before looking at your mom again, your cheeks warming the slightest bit when he did so.

“He’d love it. Sweetie, why don’t you go in the kitchen and check on the rolls in the oven. Take this with you.” She hands you the rum bottle Joel had brought, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at the instant dismissal. Joel gave you another look over as you turned on your heels to head to the kitchen, checking over your mom’s cooking.

Your sister had come by to give you company as your mom paraded Joel around to your aunts and other relatives. Evelyn, your recently divorced aunt for the second time might you add, was eyeing Joel like he was a piece of meat, reapplying her lipstick and curling her hair behind her ear for a chance to have his attention on her. You and your sister snickered under your breath at her obvious antics, making hushed comments of your own as you poured yourself a cup of wine to sip on.

Your family have been preoccupied drinking away and making mundane conversation while you stayed behind to inspect the rest of your mother’s extensive menu, letting the bread rolls cool off and switching out their place with a fresh apple pie. Bending over to check on the pastry through the glass oven door, you watched the dough edges caramelize into a brown, oblivious to an additional presence in the kitchen with you.

“It won’t cook any faster if you glare at it like that.” Joel quipped, his voice startling you as your back straightened.

“No harm in checking, you know how my mom is with her cooking.” You stated, gesturing over to Joel’s almost empty glass. “You want a refill?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Joel handed you his glass, ignoring the feel of his fingers grazing yours as he passed it over. He watched you from the side of your face as you mixed him a rum and coke, just the way he liked, the way you learned he liked. “Learned some new skills in the big city?”

“Bartended for a few years to pay off the living expenses. Was a pain in the ass, but at least I can make a mean cocktail.” Your little jest made Joel chuckle under his breath, passing him his new drink. He took a tentative sip, offering a satisfied hum.

“It’s good. Remind me to give you a tip later on.” You playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head, refilling your glass of wine. “Your aunt, Evelyn if I remember, I think she’s tryin’ to make a pass at me.”

“Well, she is divorced, so it’s not farfetched to think she might want to shoot her shot while she can. She doesn’t tickle your fancy?”

“She ain’t really my type.” For some reason, you felt relieved to hear that from him, despite feeling a bit guilty for doing so. “Been sticking to myself, you know?”

“Right. I forgot you were sticking to the whole ‘single dad bachelor’ type of vibe.” He was smirking now, the appearance of a dimple on his cheek tugged at your chest. 

“So you’re saying I’m a bachelor?”

“If we’re being technical, yes you would fit the bracket, bonus points for being a girl dad too.”

“Well now you’re just butterin’ me up.” You knew you were, but you shouldn’t entertain it in that way, even if you wanted to. Acting nonchalant about it, you shrugged, sipping away at your wine once more.

“Listen, I’m just reiterating what’s been told in Cosmopolitan. Don’t shoot the messenger.” You rose your hands up in feign innocence, much to Joel’s amusement.

“I definitely missed you around these parts. Always were a funny one, smart too.”

“Now I think you’re the one that’s buttering me up.” You were having trouble discerning if or you were outright flirting with Joel or if he was simply being kind after some time away. For now, you’ll blame it on the wine coursing through your system.

“Maybe. Just bein’ honest with you.” He swallowed more of the mixed drink you made him, holding the glass in his large hand, struggling not to examine the way his thick fingers gripped around the cup. “Listen, do you mind sittin’ by me at the table? I’m feelin’ like an outsider and frankly, I don’t mean to upset your aunt if she realizes her advances aren’t bein’ reciprocated.”

“Sure thing, Joel.” You couldn’t blame him for the proposition, hell you wanted to ask if he could sit with you. Looks like you were both interested in doing the other a favor on just getting through the night in one piece.

“You’re the best.”

It was the last thing he said before leaving you in the kitchen, his words of praise bouncing around in your head as you continued to watch over the pie, knowing the dinner you dreaded was quickly approaching.

After a while, your mom had called everyone over to the dinner table, the red and gold table cloth matching perfectly with the white porcelain and silverware gracing the mahogany wooden table. Everyone was quick to find a seat, your parents sitting on the right end and your extended family fanning out on the opposite side. Joel had already found his seat right in the middle of the table, and you took your place beside him on the right with a thankful smile, your sister situated across from you.

“Come, let us say grace.” Your mother declared out loud, your mind blanking at forgetting how religion was such an influential part of your upbringing despite your personal qualms with it.

Everyone around you closed their eyes and bowed their heads, reaching for the person besides them to hold their hand. Joel opened his palm and gestured to his hand with kind eyes, clasping your fingers in his once he felt you. As your mom recited the prayer you’ve tried to forget since you had moved away, you focused more on the way Joel’s touch felt against your skin. He gave you a couple of untimely squeezes, his thumb caressing over your knuckles as you tuned out the sound of your mother’s voice, mind wandering to places where it probably shouldn’t go while being surrounded by your family.

“Amen.” You heard from your right side, the dinner guests echoing afterwards, quickly snapping you out of your day dream.

“Amen.” You muttered last, reminiscing the final instant Joel had your hand in his before he dropped it, leaving it on your lap.

The bowl of fresh butter rolls circled around the table, snatching one as you planned out the rest of your plate. You took your pick of what was laid before you, some mashed potatoes, macaroni salad, glazed ham, and a piece of turkey breast. You brushed off a slick comment you heard down the table aimed directly at you and your portion control. The faster you eat and finish your meal, the less you would have to entertain familial bullshit.

The table burst into conversation, your guests exchanging recent and old memories as they munched away at the contents of their plates. Trying your hardest not to humor any overly personal inquiries from your parents, you made small talk with Joel and your sister, talking about school and childhood stories. Of course, that was short lived by the time your mom chimed in.

“So honey, how’s the city?” You know the chances of this conversation heading in the wrong direction were high, but you would like to give your mother the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she actually cares. Maybe she’s changed.

“It’s good. Finished my masters, moved into another apartment further downtown. Things are going well.” You kept your answer general, thinking that maybe she wouldn’t pry too much.

“That’s nice, I’m glad you finished your program. But that sounds a bit lonely, no? What happened with that boy you were talking to before? Oh what was his name…Daniel? Derrick?”

Oh of course. Your fucking ex of 2 years.

“You mean Devin?”

“Yes Devin! I liked that boy for you.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes into the back of your skull.

“I liked him too before I found out he cheated on me with his coworker. You knew that mom, yet you always remind me of him as if he’s some saint.” The table had gotten a bit quiet then, and you swear you could feel Joel’s eyes digging holes into the side of your head. You didn’t care much to mention your ex, you’ve grown past the bitterness you used to carry and already made your peace with it. Apparently your mom was still hung up on the one individual from your past you would do anything to forget.

“Yes, well, you can always forgive him for that, I’m sure he’s learned from his mistake. I just don’t want you to be all alone in the city. You are getting to that age where you should be thinking about having a family of your own, to have people who can take care of you.”

Of course she was going to fucking say that.

Your achievements didn’t mean shit to your parents. It didn’t matter if you went to college and graduated top of your class or excelled in your Master’s program, getting an offer to work at one of the biggest corporations in the country at a supervisory position. They were always more focused on when you planned on popping out children of your own for their comfort, to reassure them that their lineage will be passed on. That has always been bullshit to you.

“I’m focused on work and my career, so I’m not really interested in planning for a family of my own.” It was a straightforward response, you think it would be enough for your mom to read the room but it never was.

“How long are you planning on only prioritizing your career hun? You’ll be alone your entire life at this rate. Surely you want to have kids soon, you can’t leave me high to dry. I want some grandbabies of my own!”

“I like my job, I like where I’m at, and a kid doesn’t need to be added in the mix. I’ll be alright.” Your mother forced a hurt expression, real enough for a stranger to think you caused her physical pain. She wore the mask of victimhood well, but you’ve learned to see through her facade since you were a child.

“That city life has made you selfish. See, I told you this was going to happen before you left us. You’ve been telling me you wanted kids since you were little and now you’ve changed your mind.” You bitterly sniggered under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. Your sister shot you a look of concern, already familiar with the combative direction of this conversation.

“I’m selfish for not wanting kids? For changing my stance on it from a thought I had when I was six? That’s rich.” Before your mother could respond, the nail scratching voice of your aunt Evelyn hit your ears, always so quick to criticize and taunt.

“You won’t find a husband if you continue to be so work focused.” Your pulse pounded in your ears at how dense she had always been, but you weren’t a defenseless child anymore, you had a mouth of your own. “If you ever want to get married, you should learn how you can contribute to the home, to cook and take care of your family, like me and your mom were taught.”

“Really? And how has that turned out for you? You’re on your second divorce from your personal cheating scandal, so maybe I’m doing something right.” You’ve trained yourself to bite back after experiencing so much nonsense from your family. Besides, you weren’t obligated to be anybody’s emotional punching bag.

“The only thing you’re doing right is tightening your waistband. If your education stopped you from finding a man, your appearance certainly will when you’re wasting your youth away.”

You had lost your appetite a few minutes ago, feeding off of the years worth of irritation you felt coiling in your gut, dropping your silverware on the table. Since you’ve left for New York, you put so much into changing the way you thought about things, to undo the traumas you’ve experienced your entire life and unlearn the very things your family indoctrinated you into since you were young. You’ve done the work, and now you realize just how ridiculous the people you share blood with truly are, minus your sister of course.

“And then you wonder why I don’t visit for the holidays.”

“It’s not like you visit anyways.” Your eyebrows furrowed at your father’s voice, tensely looking towards him and growing tense at what will come out of his mouth. “New York has changed you for the worst. I told your mother it was a bad idea to let you go over there, and now you won’t come back to Texas.”

“Well when you guys act like this during a time that should be about love and family, do you really expect me to come back here? Come back to what exactly?”

“You don’t abandon your family, not the people who raised you and brought you into this world.” Is he fucking joking?

“I didn’t ask to be brought into this world, and I didn’t abandon anybody. I went to school. I went to learn. To be somebody.”

“The only thing you learned is how to be ungrateful for the life you’ve been given, the life me and your mom worked hard to give you. And now you repay us by ending our family lineage.” 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“For the love of God, I don’t want children and I don’t care about getting married. Why won’t you get that through your thick heads?”

“Your responsibility is to continue the growth of the family, to be a respectable woman and a wife to a nice man. Yet you go to the city, doing drugs and partying, losing your faith and probably behaving indecently. Maybe you’ve become one of those queers, an even worse abomination.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at your father’s words, straining to keep them out of your head. Emotionally, you’ve already grown detached from the man you unfortunately shared blood with, and your time away from home along with the therapy you’ve gotten has shown you just how much pain this man has caused you.

You knew better than coming back home. There was nothing left here for you. And there was nothing else left for you to say.

“Woah, Joseph. That ain’t the way to talk to your kid, c’mon. You don’t say those things to anyone, much less to her.” Joel chastised, holding one hand up in your defense and the other landing on your lap, sensing the angry trembles washing over you.

“Ain’t no kid of mine acting this ungrateful in my damn home! She’s free to leave and go back to her city if that’s what she wants.” Holding your head high and standing up, your chair scraped against the wooden floor, shooting daggers of hatred directly at your father.

“Fuck you.” The words came out of you so vehemently you couldn’t take them back, not that you wanted to. Your other family members gasped around the table, closely watching the showdown between you and your parents.

“Apologize to your father right now!” Your mother had definitely lost her mind, but it came as no surprise that she’d instantly coddle your father instead of giving you the support you needed since you were a little girl.

“I won’t. But I’ll do you a favor and go back to my lovely city. You can all go fuck yourselves.”

Not bothering to look back and hear the additional comments from your bigots of parents, you grabbed your jacket and swiftly threw it over you, taking your purse and heading for the door. Before you fully stepped out, you went into the kitchen, taking the bottle of rum Joel had brought and the apple pie, covering it with a plate and forcefully slamming the front door.

Slumping on the porch bench, you dug into your purse to find your phone to call an Uber back to your hotel. Right as you opened the app and began typing your hotel’s address, the front door opened and closed again, finding Joel now standing by the entryway.

“You alright?” He asked, walking towards you to sit beside you on the bench, his presence easing you in ways you desperately needed at the moment. You hid your emotions well, but you knew it was a matter of time before you broke down to release your storming emotions.

“I will be. Just trying to get out of here really.” You weren’t as bubbly as when you first came home, sagging into yourself and face frozen in a neutral expression despite your eyes telling a whole different story.

“Let me drive you back. It’s the least I can do after watchin’ you go through that.” You should’ve expected him to want to help you out, he always did when things at home got too much to handle.

“It’s alright Joel, I can just get an Uber. You shouldn’t have to leave because of me ruining everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anythin’, and I don’t really have plans of stayin’ with your family, not after how they treated you. I’d rather make sure you’re okay.” He squatted in front of you with a grunt, knees popping as his hands went to sandwich yours, an act of kindness you took graciously. “Please, let me drive you away from here for the night, somethin’ for your peace of mind.”

“It’s a bit more than a thirty minute drive to Dallas.”

“I don’t mind the drive. I’ll do it if that means you’re somewhere comfortable.”

You knew he didn’t have to do that, you could pay the $75 late night fee to find your way back to Dallas and be left alone for the next few days, thinking about whether or not you should pay more money to reschedule your flight back to New York earlier than you had anticipated. But Joel was here, offering you the generosity you had been deprived of for so long, you knew there was no other convenient choice.

“Alright, I’ll appreciate the ride.”

In the next few minutes, you found yourself in the front passenger seat of Joel’s truck, carrying the apple pie you stole in your lap and the bottle of rum securely by your feet. He played some music to try to mellow you out over the 30 minute drive back to Dallas, your phone ringing a few moments later, seeing your sister’s contact picture pop up on your screen. Sliding your thumb on the green phone button to answer the call, you held the phone to your ear, answering all of her sudden questions.

Hey. Yeah I left. Yeah yeah I’m fine, promise, nothing I can’t handle. Yes I’m safe, Joel’s taking me back, Ubers were too damn expensive. Of course I took the damn pie, they didn’t deserve to eat it after that. Sure, I’ll try to save you a piece and you can pick it up tomorrow. I’m not mad at you, you know how they get, I didn��t want you to get involved with them in my defense, I can handle them now. I probably won’t be back for the rest of the break, but we can hang out before I leave and you go back to Cali. Yeah, I’ll let you know. I love you too pipsqueak, stay safe.

Joel did you a favor by keeping quiet for the entire drive, staying focused on the road and taking the fastest route to the city. You weren’t necessarily in the mood to talk anyway, stuck in your head and tuning out the music playing in his car, thinking of other solutions to the mess of your night. Time flew by so quickly, Joel had begun pulling into the driveway of your hotel, putting the car in park and turning off the radio momentarily, bringing your attention back to him.

“Thanks Joel, for getting me out of there. I’m sorry for what happened, for my family acting the way they did.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, family gets messy like that, I get it. It’s not your fault, just a shame they behaved that way durin’ the holidays.” Even if you didn’t ask for it, you appreciated his compassion. You just hoped the next thing you said didn’t ruin your current circumstances.

“You know, I didn’t eat much at dinner, and I have an entire apple pie and a bottle of rum to myself. Want to grab a bite and share it with me?”

You didn’t know what exactly you expected in his answer, but the small smile creeping on his face was all you needed to know you were in the clear.

“I wouldn’t mind some pie.”

After driving out to get some chicken tenders at a local spot that was still open and purchasing a full liter of coke, Joel took you back to your hotel, guiding him up the elevator and to your bedroom as he held the bag with your food. Taking your keycard from your purse, you inserted the small piece of plastic on the sensor by your door, opening it with a click.

The both of you leaned on your bed, munching away at your tenders and fries and sharing sips of watered down rum and cokes with cups provided by the hotel service. Your heels and belt were thrown to the floor, laying on your side while Joel was beside you, keeping his feet off of the bed, not trying to dirty your pristine sheets by mistake. The conversations between you flowed with ease, taking trips down memory lane and talking of all the moments you shared with each other while biting into the apple pie piece by piece. Sarah’s birthday parties and soccer games, high school prom, trips to the mall and sleepovers at the Miller’s household.

Being with Joel now at this very moment was the closest thing to normalcy you’ve felt since coming back to Texas after all of this time. If it were up to you, you would hold on to this feeling for as long as you could.

“Sarah told me she was thinking of coming back home next year, tells me she misses you a lot.” You mentioned to Joel, taking another swig of your mixed drink, losing count of what refill number you were on.

“She still has to figure out the whole transferrin’ of jobs from Chicago, especially with her boyfriend, but I won’t deny that the idea of havin’ my baby girl back home 'excites me.” The way Joel spoke of his daughter was always with pride, the love towards her evident in how his eyes brightened at the mere mention of her. Sometimes, you envied your close friend for having such a good relationship with her father, but you knew she was the most deserving individual you knew.

“I hope she does. I think it will be good for her, being back I mean.”

“I’m guessin’ you don’t feel the same about coming back here then?” You grew quiet at that, releasing a heavy sigh and swirling your cup around as you thought about your answer.

“My life in New York is different than it ever was here. It’s a huge lifestyle change, yes, a little chaotic moving to such a big city but…I’ve never been happier, never been more myself. It feels good, and I’ve worked too hard to lose that.”

Joel hums, sipping his drink in the same manner you did before, downing it completely and refilling again, looking into his cup to think of the proper words to comfort you.

“You worked hard to leave, to get out. If there ain’t nothin’ left here in Texas for you, then stay in New York, live your life, the life you want. Nobody should take that away from you, even your family.”

“I know that. It’s just, it’s hard not to feel guilty about it sometimes, leaving everything behind…dad’s still holding a grudge about it, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Family is a real messy thing, but just cause they’re your blood shouldn’t mean they dictate your whole life darlin’. You deserve to be happy, to thrive, and if it upsets them…well fuck ‘em.” His honesty made you chortle a bit, bashfully glancing at him to meet his softened gaze. “Besides, you have me and Sarah rootin’ for you always. Don’t matter the distance, we’re here for you even miles away.”

“I know. You guys have been there for me since the beginning, I don’t know how to repay you for that.”

“Nothin’ needs to be repaid. Only thing you should do is prioritize yourself and your career, everythin’ else can come afterwards. Relationships, kids if you want, all that can come after you’re settled in life.” If only it were that easy.

“Trust me, I’ve already made up my mind on kids, that’s an absolute no. Relationships are quickly finding their way on the no list too.”

“Damn, that bad huh?” You laughed under your breath, finishing the rest of your drink and reaching for the rum bottle for a refill, long passing the threshold of tipsiness. 

“You have no idea, Joel. But it’s alright, really, he was an asshole and I was just an idiot. I’ve made peace with it.” It was easier for you to say that compared to the actual healing process, the months worth of anguish from a broken heart put behind you once you were ready to move forward with your life.

“It’s a shame. A man disrespectin’ a pretty girl like you. Should knock some damn sense into him for lackin’ so much of it.”

Pretty girl.

“Would’ve been nice if you did that honestly. He deserved it.”

“I can fly back to New York if you want, rough him up real good.” If Joel was trying to make you feel better about your shitty night, he was doing a real good job of doing just that.

“No Joel, I don’t need to explain to Sarah why I had to bail you out of jail in the city. I have enough going on as it is.” The sound of lighthearted laughter filled the walls of your hotel room, the episode of some reality show you didn’t care for playing on the mounted TV in the background.

“Just sayin’, don’t let that one situation make you question your worth. Anybody would love to be with you, and if they don’t realize that, then they’re as blind as a bat.”

“You really think that?” You focused directly at him, his brown eyes landing on yours, taking in your facial features so intimately.

“I do darlin’. I really do.” From the soft tone he used when he said that, you could actually believe him. “You’re a lovely girl, I’m sure the right person will make you feel the way you deserve.”

“What about you?” You blurted out, the rum flowing through you lowered your inhibitions.

“What about me?”

“Are you one of those men that have sense?”

With how Joel had grown quiet, you would think you just fucked yourself over, making things weird between someone you’ve known for a large portion of your life. Yet he only stares off towards his feet, hesitant to meet your piercing gaze.

“I think under different circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to snatch you up, show you a good time. In another life maybe…”

“Why not this one?” At that, he almost snapped his neck to peer at you, the haziness in your pupils matching his own.

“Sweetheart…you know we can’t mess around that way. It ain’t right.” Of course he had to be the voice of reason. Fuck morality. Fuck holding yourself back. Fuck thinking so much about the hypotheticals until they smothered you in your sleep.

“It ain’t right to who exactly?”

“For starters, I’m a lot older than you, your parents would kill me.”

“Do you think I care what my parents have to say about me and my life choices? I stopped giving a shit about their opinions a long time ago.” You wanted to reason with him, to find a way to break his inner critic. “And you might be older than me, but we’re both consenting adults here. I’m not a kid anymore, Joel.”

“And what about Sarah? You’re close friends with my daughter, have been for a long time. Do you really want to risk your friendship just to be with an old man like me?”

“Joel…” You inched closer to him as he shakily sucked in a breath. “Sarah, well, yes we’re close, but she kinda figured out I’ve had a little crush on you for a while.” You were sincere when you had a little alcohol in your system, but your words continued to surprise Joel, giving him a sense of whiplash.

“You’re jokin’. Really? Since when?” As if it would be difficult to like a man like him.

“Remember when I came back to visit a few years ago for your mom’s birthday barbeque? You were wearing this stupid grilling shirt, and I think that was when my crush really sunk in for me. Thought you looked really cute.”

As you recalled the memory, you had a sheepish grin on your face. You could hear Sarah teasing Joel about his outfit on that hot summer day, embracing the title of barbecue dad like a badge of honor. He kept himself busy over the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs as the brisket continued to cook in the smoker, authentic to the Texan cuisine you grew up with. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him that whole day, watching his throat bobbing with every sip of his beer, how he laughed loudly at something Tommy had said in passing, tossing his head back to show all of his pearly white teeth, both dimples on display. You could spot his softened tummy through the corny t-shirt he wore, his ass accentuated by the jeans he still managed to wear despite the burning sun.

You were long gone the moment he smiled at you, tilting the tip of his beer bottle towards you in salute.

“So you don’t think it’s a bad idea to try and kiss you?” You couldn’t hide the smirk on your face even if you tried.

“No, I don’t think so.” You drew nearer to him, carefully testing your boundaries with the man that had always been considered as a family friend. Placing a hand on his chest and messing with the collar of his flannel, you offered him a genuine smile. “I really want you to kiss me Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be kind of me if I kept you waitin’ any longer, right?”

Joel inclined towards you, hovering his mouth over yours and glancing between your eyes and your lips. Finally, he graced your lips with a kiss, cradling the back of your neck as his thumb caressed the spot behind your ear. He tasted like you expected, a mixture of rum and apple pie, a sweet combination garnishing your tongue.

Jerking on the collar of his flannel to bring him closer, you instinctively crawled into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips to sit comfortably on his pelvis. He grunted under his breath, a heavy hand now on your lower back, holding you by the waist while the other caressed your cheek. You willingly opened your mouth wider when his tongue teased over your lower lip, welcoming the wet muscle to curl around yours with a muted hum.

You spent a good while simply kissing Joel, sitting above him chest to chest with your hips gently grinding into his, feeling a bump growing under the confines of his thick jeans. He squeezed your hip and pulled away from you for some air, setting his forehead against yours as he huffed through his nose.

“Darlin’...this might be embarrassin’ but, it’s been a while since I did anythin’ like this.” Despite being in the same predicament as him, his confession only seemed to arouse you even more.

“Been a while for me too.” You admitted, stroking his chest through the soft material that covered him, thrumming your fingertips over his collarbone. Trailing your lips over his jaw and the side of his neck, you whispered in his ear. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You sure you want that?” If you looked at Joel long enough, you would see the slight blush painting over his features. “Don’t need to do anythin’ you don’t want to.”

“Positive.” One of your hands drifted to palm the bulge in his jeans, the groan rumbling in his chest made you clench around nothing. “Want you in my mouth. Please?”

“Alright baby, alright. Take what you want.”

With a grin you slipped away from Joel and eased down to your knees, letting him stand for easier access. Antsy fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, taking the leather strap out before yanking it off all in one go, tossing it behind you and popping the button of his jeans open to pull them down with his black briefs. His cock poked out for you to marvel at, hard and heavy as it was revealed to you. You concealed the moan that threatened to tumble out of your mouth at the sight.

You didn’t bother wasting any time teasing Joel, instantly pressing several kisses to his tip and the underside of his shaft, lavishing your tongue over the bulging vein under his length. In an instant, your lips circled over his throbbing crown, swirling your tongue around the circumference of him and slithering it over his slit. Breathing deeply in your nose, you took him into your throat on the next exhale, relaxing to take more of him, feeling him in the depths of your esophagus.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. Are you tryin’ to kill me?” Joel rasped above you, bringing one of his large palms to hold the back of your head, palming your skull as you hummed around him.

Drawing your head back and timing your breaths, you adopted a forceful rhythm, bouncing your head with enthusiasm and clutching at the denim over Joel’s thighs. You lost yourself to your movements, glassy eyes staring up towards Joel, observing the way his head was thrown back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing with every breath he struggled to have.

His thick fingers grasped at the hair on your head, keeping you in place and lightly thrusting into your mouth, chasing the feeling of your warm tongue stroking the underside of his cock. You encouraged his movements, unhinging your jaw and opening your mouth wider, your hands tugging on the back of his thighs to bring him forward. He eyed you closely, watching the tentative manner you held his gaze, an invitation for more.

“Gonna let me fuck up into that perfect mouth of yours, huh?” Joel croaked, yanking your head back to give you a forceful thrust, one you skillfully took and mentally prepared for with a swallow.

The man above you continued with his rough touch, bucking into your mouth with his heavy balls slapping into your chin, feeling every pant through your nose over the wet spit that covered his length. Your nails dug into his thighs, tears lining your lids as you felt the heavy weight on your tongue twitch, whirring in confirmation to coax Joel to fall over the edge, to feed you with his taste, something you’ve only dreamed of at the late night hour in private. The gruff moans coming from Joel dampened your panties, surely ruined by now as the material uncomfortably clung to your body.

“Shit…sweetheart I’m gettin’ close,” he didn’t need to confirm what you already knew, but you appreciated the notion anyway. You buzzed in affirmation, bobbing your head faster over Joel and taking a hand to knead over his balls, thumb pressing right into the crease between them, a primal growl pouring out of the older man as his vision went white.

“Fuuuuuck!” The sound Joel released as he came in your mouth would’ve been enough to bring you to the edge on your own. Your nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base, his musk overpowering your senses as you milked him for everything he had to give, happily drinking down his release with a gurgle. He didn’t need to shove your head down to keep his spurting cock down into your esophagus, you did it all on your own, hungry to every bit of him until he was running on empty.

With ease, Joel plucked you away from him, his softening cock slipping out of your mouth with a line of spit connecting you to his length. Giving the sensitive tip of him one last parting kiss, your lashes flapped upwards to meet Joel’s darkened brown eyes, now engulfed in black.

He pulled you to your feet and brought his lips to yours, chasing the taste of him in your mouth. You moaned against him, gripping the collar of his flannel and scratching at the nape of his neck, biting his plush bottom lip before he withdrew.

“Had I known it would feel like that, I would’ve made a move a while ago.” He cheesily said, making you giggle and place another kiss over his mouth.

“You can make up for lost time then,” you replied cheekily, humming at the way the tip of his nose ghosted yours. He brought you to stand fully before him, widening his legs and stuffing himself back into his briefs for the time being, leaving his jeans haphazardly unbuttoned.

“I sure can. Wanna see all of you now baby. Can I take this off of you?” God. Even the way he asked just to peel your clothes off of you was attractive, nodding enthusiastically.

His antsy fingers reached for your baggy sweater dress, lifting the material above your head in one fell swoop, careful not to ruin your makeup or hair further. He was kind enough to fold the dress and place it over on the farthest corner of the bed, the act bringing an airy giggle to your lips. As he turned to look at you, standing in front of him in your lace underwear set and pantyhose, he tried his hardest to suppress his audible moan of approval.

“Christ. Ain’t you a pretty thing.” He touched your waist, bringing you closer to him so he could nuzzle into your chest, placing affectionate kisses over the swell of your breasts. He meticulously reached for the bra clasp in the back, undoing it with finesse and tossing it to the floor. He stared at you in awe, rough graying stubble rubbing against the soft skin of your breasts, calloused thumbs stroking your stiffening nipples as you curved into his touch.

“I just know you taste as good as you look darlin’.”

Joel maneuvered you to lay on the mattress, your back bouncing a bit from the movement, waiting for Joel’s next move. He hovered above you, kissing your lips before moving to plant kisses down your neck and collarbone, shifting between the valley of your breasts and lining his lips with one of your nipples. Swirling his tongue around the stiff peak, he suckled at the nub, bringing a moan to your throat and a slight arch of your back, pinching and plucking at the other nipple. He pried away from your slick nipple and blew over the peak, drawing his attention to the other and doing the same, alternating his touch and attention.

Warmth pooled in your gut, gasping once Joel was ready to reciprocate the attention you had given him, grasping the flare of your hips and kissing down your sternum and lower stomach, running his chin over the waistband of your pantyhose.

“You better not think about ripping them.” You joked with him, seeing him smirk with a dimple popping in his cheek.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, unless you let me.” He jested right back, carefully taking hold of the waistband of your pantyhose and peeling them down your hips and thighs, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You aided him in removing the fabric off your body with a kick of your foot, getting a kiss on your knee as a thank you. Joel took one more minute to appreciate the way you looked in your black lace panties, the soft wet flesh underneath barely covered by the material. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers with the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down and tossing away the last article of clothing you had over your figure.

The sight of you bare with nothing obstructing his vision made Joel’s heart pang in his chest, the organ pumping between his ribs a tad bit harder as you spread your legs for his view, inviting him to take a good look at you.

“Fuck darlin’. Look at that.” He drawled, his voice dropping an octave as he noticed the slick skin of your glistening flesh, your clit peeking out from under its hood, twitching and desperate for his attention. “That’s for me baby? All from suckin’ my cock?” Joel Miller had a mouth on him, but you loved it.

“Yeah, I liked having you in my mouth.” You didn’t feel ashamed of the truth, sitting up on your elbows as one of your hands swam between your legs, spreading your lips for Joel to get a better close-up of the deep pink between your thighs. “Now I think you should repay the favor.”

He was so fucked.

Joel didn’t pause his movements, diving head first between your legs and licking a broad stripe up your cunt, groaning at the taste of you invading his mouth. His fingers clasped around your thighs, keeping you spread open for him as he feasted over your pussy, shifting his tongue over your twitching flesh, gathering as much of your arousal as he could get on his lips. His nose pressed into the sensitive nub of your clit, his tongue gliding lower to twist inside you, fucking up into you as you bucked your hips into his face.

“Taste so fuckin’ good darlin’. As ripe as a fuckin’ peach.” Joel commented in a muffled grouse between your thighs, eating away at you with added fervor.

He pulled away for some air, your arousal staining his chin and upper lip, marking your territory. His plump lips veered to your twitching clit, wrapping around the nub and swiveling his tongue over the tip much like you had done with his cock a few minutes prior. The act had you keening louder, one of your hands coming to tug at the graying curls on his head, clutching the strands in your fist to keep him sucking at your clit in attentive pulses.

“Fuck Joel. Yes, yes, that’s so good, feels so good.” He grumbled around your pussy in praise, taking it up a notch as one of his hands moved, his fingertips skimming your entrance and plunging two of his digits inside you, down to the knuckle.

You gasped from the added stretch, your walls pulsing around his fingers as you adjusted to the intrusion. If you were feeling like this from just his fingers, you couldn’t imagine how taking his cock might feel, how it will stretch you out from the inside. You twitched around him at the thought, craving the release he waved in front of you like a treat.

Joel thrusted his fingers in time with the sucking of his lips around your clit, pulling out his digits and burrowing them back in. In and out. In and out. A steady push and pull that made your thighs shake beside his head, your grip tightening between his hair and the bed sheets under you, hips jerking up into him, trying to take more of his fingers. He curled his digits on the next drive, hitting something divine that sent a shot of lightening up your spine, the pressure building in your belly as the rope of tension threatened to snap at any given moment.

You could feel yourself clenching around him, your walls tightening as you were brought closer to the edge than ever thought possible. Your cries turned breathless, airy whimpers pouring out of you in par with the arousal that seeped out of your cunt and onto the bed underneath.

“Joel…I’m so close.” The curve of your back deepended, the man on his knees before you sucking with more intensity, pressing his fingertips into the textured spot inside in faster pulses, the entirety of his mouth slurping the length of you.

“C’mon baby. Give it to me. I know she wants to spill for me, let me taste her.” Joel was determined to make you fall apart because of him, inserting a third finger for an additional stretch, the act of the blunt edge of his teeth scratching your slick pearl was your undoing.

You shook as you hit your limit, climaxing with Joel’s fingers never ceasing their lunging, milking your orgasm for what it was worth. Both of your hands were fastening the gray strands at Joel’s scalp, throwing your head back against the mattress and coming with a broken cry of his name, tears pricking the corner of your eyes at the pure euphoria that overwhelmed you from the force of your climax.

All too soon, your body grew limp on the mattress, Joel slipping his fingers out of your pussy and cleaning them off with his mouth. He placed one last parting kiss on your twitching clit, kissing around your mound and inner thighs in an attempt to soothe you, leaving another smooch over your hip and floating up your body before meeting your face. You blinked up at him, cheeks heated at the way his lips plumped up from the work they did, his lower face shining in the lighting of your hotel room from your arousal.

You tugged him down for a passionate kiss, winding your tongue around his, devouring the tangy flavor of your release coating his mouth.

“Need you to fuck me,” you begged hastily against him, sneaky fingers going to haul Joel’s flannel from his softened tummy, craving more of him. “Please, Joel.”

“Baby, I would, I want to… didn’t bring anythin’ with me. Wasn’t even thinkin’ about doing somethin’ like this.” Ever the considerate man, of course he would be thinking about protection. Frankly, you could care less.

“Got tested a while ago and I’m covered. It’s fine, Joel. Trust me.” You bargained with him, sense thrown out the window as you clenched around nothing, wanting to be claimed and taken by the man you’ve fantasized about since going away for college, the man you’ve compared every previous partner to since the beginning. “Just want to feel you.”

“You will darlin’, you will. Not gonna leave you runnin’ on empty now. Not while I’m right here.”

Joel swiftly removed his jeans and briefs in one piece, hard cock bouncing between his legs as he undid the buttons of his flannel, peeling it off with your help. You released a lighthearted giggle when one of his arms got stuck in his white undershirt, mimicking your laugh and smirking at the appearance of your smile. His knees sank into the fluffy comforter of the bed underneath you, large hands taking hold of your hips and towing you closer to the edge.

“Thought that was funny?” he bantered above you, kissing your lips and enjoying the reciprocation of his actions, his length twitching beside your thigh.

“Maybe. It was cute…” you murmured, hand taking hold of him to pump his shaft with a jerk of your wrist, a shaky exhale falling from his lips. “Are you done teasing me now?”

“I might be. You’re gettin’ desperate?”

“For you to fuck me? Yes, I am.” Your thumb swiped over his tip, the sticky precum wetting your digit. “Been waiting too damn long.”

“Then put me inside darlin’. Let me feel you.”

You positioned him over your aching cunt, his hips thrusting over the seam of your pussy, sticky tip grinding into your sensitive clit. He felt good like this, mind running on empty imagining what he would feel like inside you. You didn’t have to imagine too much when his tip bumped into your entrance, his hips tentatively rolling to plunge into your waiting warmth, your hands jumping to clutch his freckled bicep. Joel didn’t stop pushing into you until he was down to the hilt, balls deep and groaning at the feel of your walls pulsing around his thickness, adjusting to his size.

Eyes beating closed, Joel put more of his weight on his forearms, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down, not focusing too much on how warm and wet you felt, wanting to last and make this experience good for you. Meanwhile, you had already lost all focus, the depth of him could be felt in your chest, widening your pelvis just to accommodate him.

“God, Joel,” you practically mewled under him, clamping around him once more, forcing Joel to open his eyes on you.

“Sweetheart, don’t…fuck don’t do that…” he panted, pinning your hips down into the mattress to keep you in place, trying not to cum too early. “Ain’t gonna make me last.”

“Just fuck me,” Joel had started to slowly bump into you, pulling his hips back and leaving half of him outside of you to plunge back inside, savoring the gasp you gave him. “Fuck me.”

“Look at you, already beggin’ for it. You like my cock that much darlin’? Like havin’ this old man fuck you right?”

“Yes.” Your wispy reply made Joel chuckle, a deep rumbling you felt inside you as he kept his steady pace. “So fucking deep.”

“Yeah? Feel me deep in ya?” You nodded dumbly, his forehead pressing into yours, your eyebrows furrowing as he hit that delicious textured spot tucked in the roof of your canal. Your legs wrapped around his waist, accepting his passionate kiss, unabashedly moaning into his mouth.

Joel began to pick up the pace, pouring all of his energy into the drives of his hips, listening to the high pitched whimpers that came out of you. He leaned forward a bit more, his hands raising the underside of your thighs, allowing him to slip just a tad deeper inside you. The angle brought a cry punching through your lungs, squirming under him from his consistent thrusts.

The hotel room filled with sounds of skin slapping, his heavy balls slapping into you, your slick covering the length of him every time he fucked into you, letting your pussy taste every gracious inch he had to give. You were getting close again, pawing at Joel’s broad chest and tightening your hips around his waist. He kept his deep and precise pace, sending the tip of him kissing your cervix with every pound.

“Joel,” you whined out, glassy eyes struggling to focus on him as your pussy grew taught around him, the tell tale signs of your pending orgasm creeping up on you, building in intensity as the hair at the base of him grazed your tender clit with every grind.

“I know, I know. Can feel you flutterin’ around me.” His words made you whimper, clutching at him harsher, your deep crimson nails creating fresh streaks down his back, leaving your mark for him to admire in the morning. “Let me feel it darlin’, need you to cum around me. C’mon baby, c’mon.”

With his gentle coaxing and a bite to the side of your jaw, you fell apart for him a second time, a wail resounding the walls of the bedroom, silently praying that the walls were relatively sound proof. Joel fucked you through your release, an audbile squelch filling the room as you soaked his cock, your thighs quivering as he milked your orgasm to finality.

“That’s it. That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His praise brought heat to your face and the tip of your ears, heart lurching at the thought of being his girl. “Fuck, where do you want me sweetheart?”

“Inside,” you pleaded meekly, head bouncing limply as he pounded harder into you, letting him use your cunt for his own release, making an effort to clamp around him as an invitation, wounding your legs tight around him with whatever strength you had left.  “Please Joel. Fill me.”

“Christ. That fuckin’ mouth,” Joel was heaving now, sweat dripping down his brow and the bridge of his nose as his climax grew to profound heights, a tingling in his lower back that he could feel in his balls. “Gonna fill this pussy up ‘till you feel me tomorrow.”

Two more drives and Joel growled as he came inside you, his spend dribbling into every crevice and you took it all with a fucked out smile. You whizzed as your body tingled from the aftermath of fucking Joel Miller, a family friend that was significantly older than you, not like you cared all too much. Joel struggled to keep upright after his vigorous orgasm, pulling you with him as he laid down on his side, facing you.

“You alright?” Joel asked you once you gained your bearings, his palms rubbing your cheeks and keeping you present in the moment during your comedown.

“Mhm. Can’t really feel my legs.” You conceded with a grin, Joel following through and wearing the same blissful expression on his face.

“Means I did my job right then.” Tired chuckles replaced the sounds of panting, basking in the weightless feel of laying next to Joel like this.

He kept his palm on your cheek, caressing your heated skin and running his fingers over your jaw as you breathed in and out. You don’t recall a time where you ever felt this good, where you felt truly satisfied after being with someone or giving somebody access to your body in such a passionate way. Had you known you would’ve gotten that from Joel Miller of all people, you would’ve made a pass at him a long time ago and saved yourself the trouble of wasting your time with your mediocre ex.

A voice nagged in the back of your head, the echo of wondering what comes after this. You wondered what Joel was thinking in his foggy subconscious, if the post-coitial clarity was starting to hit him and he was second guessing what you two had done. You didn’t want the guilt to kick in just yet, to imagine the consequences and have them ruin the perfect manifestation of your biggest fantasy. You’ll both figure it out somehow, like you always did, right now, all you wanted was to enjoy Joel for as long as he’d allow.

“I wouldn’t mind having you stay the night, sleep off the rum and apple pie before you go home.” It was a flimsy suggestion, half serious and half not, but as you looked directly into those chocolate orbs of his, watching them soften at your inexplicit question. His lips turned upwards then, your heart hanging on to hope that maybe, you weren’t asking for too much.

“Yeah, I reckon that’s a good idea darlin’.” He leaned forward to kiss you again, much softer than how he had just rendered you boneless.  “Like I said, you were always a smart one.”

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[covenofagatha]

hey!! can you do one where you run into professor agatha at the library while doing homework and it ends with her making you sit on her cock without moving while you study and you're impatient and she ends up fucking you right there in thar secluded corner (with lots of overstimulation and daddy kink if you're comfortable with that?)

Inspiration struck for this one today so hope everyone enjoys

I just started a new semester so probably won't be posting as much but I will do my best to keep writing and putting stuff out regularly. Also will be pausing any Agathario x reader fics for the moment

Learning to focus

When you run into Professor Harkness at the local library while you're supposed to be working on a project for her history class, you find yourself distracted by her (again)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: public sex, GP Agatha, fingering, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstimulation, it really was agatha all along, slight humiliation?, hints of degradation

The Westview University campus library is always packed, so you usually opt for the local library about twenty minutes away from the school. 

Much quieter and way less crowded. 

And you don’t have to worry about running into any failed situationships or crazy roommates from past years. 

Plus it’s a really nice library, two stories with long glass windows stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Even when you don’t have school work, you often enjoy coming here just to read or play on your computer. It’s a peaceful place, a place that lets you just relax and forget about the outside world and all the stress you feel. 

Stress mainly from one class. Your history class. 

Professor Agatha Harkness was the only one who taught U.S. History when your schedule could allow it, which meant you had to ignore all the bad reviews on RateMyProfessor.com, because you had no other option. 

On the first day, you could see exactly where they came from. 

One boy had shown up five minutes late, practically a miracle on the first day of classes, stammering an excuse about how bad traffic was, Professor Harkness had fixed him with a glare and told him that he better drop the class. 

You were just thankful that you had a class before hers, otherwise you would’ve been late, too. 

She was just as mean and ruthless and cold as everyone said she’d be. Her assignments were almost outrageous and she graded them so harshly it was honestly impressive you weren’t failing yet. 

But the one thing the reviews forgot to mention was how attractive she is. Her long, dark hair that she’d often keep back in a ponytail. Her sharp blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean on a dark night. Her high cheekbones, her pointed nose, her wicked smirk, honestly, everything about her. 

You suppose the more impressive thing is that you aren’t failing with how often you get distracted by the way her fingers on her left hand tighten around the dry-erase marker when she’s drawing time-lines on the board. When she sways her hips and flexes her knuckles which tightens her veins, you feel a tugging in your gut and you have to bite your lip. 

And you definitely should not be noticing the bulge in her pants when she sits back with her legs spread in her chair while the class is taking an exam. 

You have an optimal seat, all the way to the right of her desk and in the front row, so you can take her in without her noticing you too much. 

If anyone looked too closely at you, they’d assume you were sweating because of the forty-five multiple choice and five written questions you had to answer in only a little over an hour. 

That wasn’t it. 

You swore she saw you looking one time, one particular day when she was wearing a blue flannel and loose fitting cargo pants. You were staring, so completely distracted when you should’ve been taking notes that you didn’t even notice she had dismissed the class. 

It wasn’t until you finally realized that she was stalking toward you that you had fucked up. You had swallowed roughly and moved to shove your stuff into your bag when she had put her hands on your desk and leaned in, causing you to completely forget how to breathe. 

“You seemed a little preoccupied there,” she murmured in a low voice, her hint of cologne tickling your nose. “Try to pay better attention next time. Don’t want to have to teach you a lesson.”

You had promptly nodded and almost ran to your dorm to fuck yourself to the thought of her teaching you a very different kind of lesson. 

Professor Harkness is in your head, and you can’t get her out no matter how hard you try. Except right now, you really need to focus, because the end-of-semester project is due in a week and you haven’t started. 

Did she give you the entire four months of the course to complete it? Yes. But you have never been good at working ahead or at time management. 

She had assigned a ten page paper along with a hand-drawn timeline about something that had happened in the history of the United States. You had picked the Salem Witch Trials, and Professor Harkness had winked when you got the topic approved by her. 

So you’re about to spend the next probably five hours in the library trying to make some headway on this project. The timeline should be easy, but it’s the paper you’re worried about. 

You go up the stairs and wind through the aisles of books on the second floor until you get to your secluded corner, the one you always go to, the one with a small table and two chairs hidden by bookshelves and gasp. 

Your favorite spot has been taken by none other than Professor Harkness. She’s sitting in the chair you usually sit in, pen between her teeth, staring at papers. 

When she looks up, she doesn’t even seem surprised to see you and a slow grin spreads over her face. 

“Professor, what are you doing here?” You ask, fiddling with the straps on your tote bag. Should you go somewhere else?

She chuckles. “In a public library in the town where I live?” 

Your cheeks burn. “Right. Um, I’ve just never seen you here before.” And then you inwardly kick yourself because now it sounds like you’ve been on the lookout. 

“Wanted to get out of the house,” she shrugs. “Have some papers to grade for that project due next week. How’s yours coming?” 

“Oh, really good,” you lie, shifting your weight and trying to think of a quick way to get out of this conversation. “Almost done. Well, I don’t want to bother–” 

She interrupts you by sliding the chair out next to her and patting it. “Why don’t you come show me what you have? I can give you some help, free of charge.” She winks, a glint in her eyes, and it makes your stomach twist. 

“Oh, Professor, that’s not necessary,” you say nervously but she tsks and waves dismissively. 

“Please, call me Agatha. It’s the weekend and we’re off campus. Now, come sit.” She makes it clear it’s an order and you gulp before taking the seat. Even being this close to her is affecting your body and you know there’s absolutely no way you’re getting anything done. 

She’s currently grading a paper about the Boston Massacre and it’s drenched in red ink. You’re not sure which you feel more of: annoyance at your over-achieving classmates or absolute dread for how Agatha is going to react when she finds out that you haven’t even started and, even worse, lied about it. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling her intense gaze on you. “So, the thing is…” You trail off, reaching down to pull out your laptop. You set it on the table and slowly open it, silently begging for the floor underneath you to open up and swallow you whole. 

Anything would be better than this humiliation. 

“Yeah?” Agatha breathes, suddenly much closer to you. You will your eyes to not look away from the computer screen and type in your password, praying that you didn’t leave anything that embarrassing up. 

It opens up to the blank document titled Salem Witch Trials, just so it’s clear to Agatha what exactly this page was supposed to be. 

You’d rather it have been porn. 

Your professor chuckles slowly next to you. “Thought you were almost done?” She simpers in that gruff voice that drives you wild. “Did you get distracted again?” 

Agatha leans forwards, resting her elbow on the table, and perching her head in her hand so she can peer at you. Your eyes glance over to meet hers and then back to your computer, but in your peripheral vision, you can see her body tilt toward yours and her legs open just the slightest. 

Your mouth runs dry and you make a pointed effort not to look between them. 

“What’s gotten you so preoccupied, babygirl?” She asks and you clench around nothing at the shift in tone and the pet name. Holy fuck. “I’ve seen you staring in class, you know. You’re not very subtle at all.” 

Forget being swallowed by the floor, you might just combust out of pure embarrassment. 

You try to stammer out something, an apology maybe, sorry for wanting to fuck you, Professor, but no sounds come out of your mouth. Her other hand comes up and teases a lock of your hair and you finally work up the courage to look at her. 

Agatha’s eyes are heated and dark, all the blue practically gone, and her lips are parted just so. And then you flick your eyes down to between her legs involuntarily and you have to bite back a whimper because she’s fucking hard. 

You can see her length through her navy pants and your brain short-circuits. Agatha likes this. Agatha likes you. 

“Is that what gets you all hot and bothered? Can’t focus because you’re too busy staring at me?” Agatha asks, hand dropping to palm herself. She gives her dick a quick stroke and lets out a tight sigh and you have to hold onto the table to steady yourself. 

Heat rushes through your body in an almost unbearable way. “Yes,” you whisper hoarsely. 

Agatha takes her hand off herself and taps a finger to her lips. “Hmm,” she draws out thoughtfully. You can feel a puddle growing in your underwear. “You know, I’m used to the crushes. Doesn’t even phase me anymore, usually it’s college girls who are just so desperate for attention. Not getting it anywhere else and they think that their fifty year old professor will be into them.” 

Your jaw clenches. Is this the part where she rejects you? 

But Agatha smirks and looks you up and down, takes in your squirming body in the chair. “And I never have even considered it. Until you. None of them have been as delicious as you, pet.” 

And it makes your head spin. It’s almost as if you’re in a trance when your hand grabs onto her thigh and Agatha lets out a low moan. 

“Please,” you say, desperation in your voice. What are you asking for? You don’t even think you know. 

Agatha tuts. “Do you really think you deserve anything? This paper is due in a week and you haven’t even started. Doesn’t seem like you should get a reward for procrastinating, does it?” 

“It’s not my fault,” you whine before you can even think about it. There’s something about this side of Agatha specifically that makes your mind turn to mush. 

She raises an eyebrow like she’s daring you to say that again. “I think you need to learn how to keep that pretty head of yours focused.” She nods to the computer screen. “Make an outline.”

You swallow roughly and straighten up, putting your hands on the keyboard. You’ve just switched tabs and begun googling “Salem Witch Trials” when Agatha’s hand lands on your upper thigh. 

You freeze and glance at her out of the corner of your eye to find her scribbling another note on the paper in front of her. You don’t know how she’s so calm and collected when you feel like your entire body is on fire. 

“Focus,” she tells you in that deep voice of hers and you click on the first result that comes up as her fingers begin to toy with the hem of your skirt. 

You try, you really do try, but it’s so fucking hard to read the words on the screen when she’s inching closer and closer to your underwear, which you can feel is absolutely drenched. 

And soon enough, she’s going to feel it, too. You can almost hear her dark laugh already when she realizes just how affected you are. 

Her fingertips brush against you and instead of laughing, she gasps. “Oh, pet, no wonder you never pay attention in class,” she coos and a thrill runs through you despite how embarrassed you are. She effortlessly finds your clit through the fabric and rubs it and you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip so you don’t make a sound. 

“Agatha,” you say under your breath and you can practically hear her smirking. Why is it so hot that she is still grading the paper as she starts to run her fingers up and down your pussy over your underwear? She dips in at your entrance and a muffled groan tears itself out of your mouth. 

“Is this what you’re like while I’m teaching, too?” She muses conversationally, but you look down just in time to see her cock twitch in her pants. It makes you feel even more exhilarated, knowing she’s just as affected. But then she moves your panties to the side and slides her fingers through your folds and you forget any train of thought you had. You really hope your wetness isn’t as loud as it sounds. “Dripping for me like a little slut? Getting yourself all worked up when I’m talking about the Declaration of Independence? It’s pathetic.” 

You whimper, maybe in agreement, maybe at how good it feels when she pushes a finger into you, but her eyes slightly glaze over at the feeling of your warm walls around her. 

“God, Agatha,” you moan, your own hand coming down to wrap around her wrist when she starts moving. You can feel her flexing with each thrust and your tongue presses against your cheek as you breathe heavily, leaning toward her. 

She presses a quick kiss to your head and scrapes her teeth against your ear before hotly whispering, “Better be quiet, babygirl. And focus. Or I’ll stop.”

You manage to type out three bullet points worth of information when she slips another finger into you and you clamp a hand over your mouth before you moan obscenely. 

Agatha leans over to read what you have so far. “Who was the first woman to be executed for witchcraft?” She asks and you realize that you never finished that sentence. 

“Bridget Bishop,” you gasp, and she swipes at your clit as a reward, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

You continue to type, hoping it’s making sense because you can’t even comprehend the words, while Agatha continues to twist her fingers inside you roughly and rub your clit. You can feel your orgasm slowly building, and it only makes it worse every time Agatha hums right into your ear at something you’ve written. Your walls are clenching around her, trying to draw her even further into you, and she can tell you’re getting close, you’re going to cum so quickly around her fingers. 

“There we go pet, such a good girl for Daddy,” she says into your ear and you spasm all around her, the name sending you right over the edge. 

Who knew you’d like that so much? 

Apparently Agatha did, who grins like a cat getting her cream as she fucks you through your orgasm with her fingers, keeping a steady rhythm on your clit. You taste blood from biting your lip so hard but you manage to keep quiet and you finally come down from your high. 

But it’s not enough, you need more, and judging by the straining of Agatha’s cock against her pants, she needs more, too. 

You move to touch her but she slaps your hand away. “Not yet,” she growls and it sends another blast of heat through you. You think there might be a wet spot on the chair underneath you. 

It only makes it worse when she reaches down and undoes her own belt, fiddles with the button exasperatedly, and finally unzips her pants. She reaches inside and your jaw drops open when she pulls out her hard and leaking cock. It’s big, big enough to make your mouth water, and it almost looks painful. Agatha gives herself a few strokes, hips jumping, and she hisses when she rubs her thumb over the tip. 

“Think you can focus while you sit on Daddy’s cock, babygirl?” She taunts. You’ve never felt so empty in your life, you need her so bad, and she’s right there. 

You almost want to bend down and take her into your mouth, taste her hard cock. 

“I asked you a question,” she reminds you roughly, slapping your thigh to get your attention. The sting makes you jump. “God, you really do get distracted easily.” 

You mumble an apology, cheeks flushing. “I can focus, I promise,” you say, trying to sound convincing, but neither of you believe it. Regardless, she smirks and pats her legs and you do a cautious sweep of the surrounding area. This is incredibly dangerous and if you get caught, you both will get in serious trouble. 

But for some reason, the thrill of getting caught only turns you on more. 

So you stand up and straddle her and sit down, taking her cock in one fell swoop. She goes in easy with how wet you are and you bottom out in her lap, the both of you groaning quietly with restraint. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” you hear Agatha huff and you squeeze your walls around her in response. It makes her thrust up and you inhale sharply at the feeling. She is so big and you can feel her throbbing inside you. “Better keep working.” 

You lean forward slowly to move your laptop closer, the stretch absolutely delicious and she chuckles when you gasp as you settle back onto her. Agatha wraps her arms around your waist and you really do try to be good and focus, but every so often, she shifts beneath you and it hits that spot so deep inside you and you can’t help but squirm to try and get more. 

Would she notice if you slowly start moving? Most likely, but it’s worth the risk. You give the gentlest roll of your hips and Agatha moans low into your ear before her fingernails dig into your hips through your skirt to still you. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispers dangerously so you’re forced to sit without moving on her cock that is filling you up better than anything ever has before. 

It’s sweet torture and you write a few more sentences before you can feel your wetness dripping down her cock and out of you. Every so often, you’ll clench around her, too, completely involuntarily, of course, and she’ll buck into you like she can’t help it while breathing suddenly. You’re not sure how much longer of this you can take, the ache spreading everywhere in your body and absolutely ruining you. 

“Agatha,” you whine again, begging, starting to move despite her death-like grip on your waist. 

She moves your hair to the side and nips at your neck. “Yes, babygirl?” 

“Can you please–” you begin, frustration leaking into your voice, tears pricking in your eyes. “Can you please move? Please, I need it so bad. I’m trying so hard to focus, please, can you fuck me? Daddy–”

Turns out, all you needed to convince her was to call her that, because she finally breaks and starts thrusting her hips up and pounding her cock into you. Your hand flies over your mouth and you bite onto a finger to stop yourself from crying out and you wish you weren’t in a library right now, rather be in the comfort of Agatha’s bed or car or office or anywhere but here, so you could be as loud as you want. 

“Let’s see if you’re still distracted after Daddy fucks all the thoughts out of your head,” she snaps and fuck, you’re already so close after cockwarming her for those few minutes. She reaches around you with a hand to circle your clit, which is already sensitive from your previous orgasm and a muffled sound escapes you. Agatha laughs breathlessly and you strain your ears to hear if anyone is coming near you – not that you could do anything about it now – but there’s nothing. 

Thank god this is a relatively empty library, especially at this time of the day, and that the two of you are tucked away in the back where it’s hard to see normally. 

Agatha’s thrusts are getting so powerful that you’re forced to put your hands out on the table for balance which means it gets a lot harder to control your noises. But your professor, ever the problem-solver, comes up with a solution. 

She slides two fingers into your mouth so you can suck on them and so your moans are stifled. Agatha presses her fingers against your tongue, scrapes her nails against it, and draws them out before shoving them back in, effectively fucking both your mouth and your pussy. 

“You feel so good, babygirl, so fucking tight,” she pants into your ear and you gag when she pushes her fingers down your throat. 

It’s so much, so much stimulation from her cock and her fingers and the fact that you’re being fucked in a public library where anyone could see that your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and it’s explosive. You sink your teeth into her skin and she moans, almost being louder before she remembers to control herself. 

You need a moment to collect yourself, but she doesn’t give it to you; instead, she shoves you off her lap and stands up right behind you without her cock ever leaving your body. 

Agatha bends you over the table, hand pressing against your back, and you have just enough awareness to move your laptop out of the way before she sets a bruising pace. The table must be bolted down to the floor or something, because it thankfully doesn’t move. 

Agatha grunts softly with each thrust and you can feel her twitching inside you even though it feels like every single one of your nerves is on fire. 

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can again,” you quietly sob, the pleasure fraying your mind, the sensitivity of your clit making you gasp when she rubs it. You feel like you’re drifting away from your body, dizziness swarming your head. “Too much,” you babble. 

But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up her speed and tears fall from your eyes. “You can, babygirl, I know you can. You can take it – fuck, you feel so good around me.” 

Agatha losing her composure because of you, just knowing you have that kind of affect on someone usually so cold and unaffected, is starting to build your orgasm back up. 

“Daddy,” you whine, trying to be as quiet as you can. Her rhythm is starting to falter, she’s throbbing and twitching and cursing, fingers scrambling for purchase on your hips, and you know she’s getting close. 

“So perfect, babygirl,” she mutters and you know she’s refraining from being louder, too. “I’ve wanted you for so long, ever since the first day when you walked into my classroom wearing that short skirt.” 

The confession makes you clench and a gasp escapes your lips. You’re climbing closer and closer to the edge and Agatha isn’t far behind. 

“Knew I had to have you,” she keeps going and your body is practically vibrating. 

She’s pounding into you so deep, filling you so good, her cock dragging against your walls in the best way. Her ragged words are getting to her, too; you can tell in the way her thrusts become shallower and shorter like she can’t do anything more. 

You’d make a quip about her being distracted but you can’t form a sentence right now. Every thought in your head is gone. 

“Daddy knows you come here,” she continues and your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t even think you can understand her. You’re close, so close. “Knew you hadn’t started on the project. Knew you’d be here – fuck, babygirl.” She breaks off with a sharp inhale as you squeeze around her at her words. 

This whole thing was planned. She’s wanted you just as badly as you’ve wanted her. And now she’s fucking you against a table in a library because of it. 

She reaches around and rubs your clit and that’s it. 

You cum all over her cock, walls convulsing around her, and she quickly follows, pumping her cum into you. You feel her warmth spreading through you and it makes you gasp. 

Thankfully she pulls out because you truly can’t take anymore and she slides your underwear back into place before her cum can drip down your legs. She turns you around after zipping her pants back up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“You okay?” She murmurs and you weakly nod. “Is that pretty head of yours clear now? Think you can focus?” 

The question makes you laugh. There are no thoughts left in your head whatsoever. “You do know that I’m only going to be thinking about this in your classes right? You just made the problem ten times worse.” 

Agatha smirks and taps under your chin. “Tell you what, pet. For each day early you turn this project in, that’s one more reward you’ll get.” 

And even though you’re completely worn out, your clit pulses at the thought of more. 

“Think you’ll be able to focus now?” Agatha asks sweetly. You nod eagerly, your brain suddenly able to piece together how you’re going to structure your paragraphs, and she chuckles. “It’s all about finding the right motivation. I look forward to seeing your final project.” She winks, packs up her stuff, and then walks away. 

You sit down in the chair, making a mental note to clean that and the table before you leave, and open your laptop back up. 

Cracking your knuckles, you get to work, suddenly able to focus so much better now. 

[writerdownbookworder]

I stare for a minute. There are...a lot of people standing around my front door.

I shake myself out of my surprise. "Can I...help you? Your Highness," I add hastily, sweeping into a deep curtsy.

The prince takes a small step forward. "We are looking for a Miss Anastasia Ryntz? We were told this is the correct residence."

My brow furrows in confusion. I feel like I'm missing something. I fidget with my threadbare apron as I slip between the guards and start fumbling with my keys to unlock the door.

"Yes, it is," I say slowly, ushering the crowd inside. "I'm Anastasia. I'm sorry, not to be rude, but why are you here?"

The prince looks around, distinctly uncomfortable in my very small house. With all the guards and his advisors, the room is very crowded. I wince as one of the guards tries to turn around and knocks a vase off my lone table.

The prince sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. "Really, Cass? That's it, everyone out." Balancing the cake in one hand, he uses the other to shoo at everyone. They look at each other uncertainly.

"I'm serious!" he yells. "The only people who are staying in this house are the lady, myself, and Grimms." He gestures at his closest advisor.

Slowly, my house empties, and I awkwardly offer the prince the one chair I own. "Would you...like to sit?"

He accepts gratefully, his advisor standing behind me, me across the table. The silence stretches for a few minutes before he jumps a bit in his seat. "Oh! I- We brought you a birthday cake!" He shoves it across the table eagerly.

I stare at it, then at him, confused. "Why?"

The prince frowns. "Well...it's your birthday, isn't it?"

I nod slowly. "22nd birthday. Why do you know that? And why do you know my name?"

The prince fumbles with his words for several seconds before his advisor - Grimms - sighs and speaks up. "Prince Auron is here to speak with you about something of the upmost importance. Are you the only person in residence? This is a private matter."

"Yes, it's just me." Dang it, I know my voice sounded sad there. I don't want them to think I'm a loser! "I live alone. By myself." Yeah, that was so much better. Whatever. "Anyway, what's up?" Facepalm.

Prince Auron clears his throat awkwardly. "You, of course, are aware that I am the youngest of the royal family. As such, on my birthday this year, when I came of age, I was given a prophecy about my future in the kingdom."

I nod. This isn't news to me. The prince's oldest sister will inherit the throne and his older brother will lead the armies and advise the crown. The third child is always a bit of a wild card.

"Does your prophecy have something to do with my business?" I ask. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be." I snort with derision. "You can see how I live."

Prince Auron fidgets. "Ah. Yes. Well, not really."

I wait, then when he doesn't elaborate, I sigh. "Your Highness, I would love to help you, but I can't do that unless you actually tell me what you need."

He blurts out. "I need you to marry me. Please."

I blink. "I'm sorry. What?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[itssliyahhxoxo]

hey lovely i have a request i was thinking like paige n reader n they baby girl or boy says they first words or the reader has a baby from a previous relationship nd the baby calls paige mama or sumn

You and Paige met the months after your break up with your baby daddy. When you found out you were pregnant you were filled with joy, your boyfriend not so much. The arguing started about a month after and went on and n about the baby.

Until you had enough and left, you spent the rest of your pregnancy with your best friend (friend name)

After you gave birth you dedicated your life to your precious baby girl, meaning.

Baby comes first

No men

No getting close with anyone

You stuck with those rules for the past five months,until your best friend had enough she basically dragged you and baby girl out the house and drove to her moms. “Are you sure this is ok” you asked her mom “yes, sweetie go have some fun. Besides it’ll be nice to spend some time with my grand baby” she smiled.

Yes you weren’t related but you and (friend name) see each other as sisters and her mom was always there for you as well.

“And maybe you can find you a new man” she smirked. you laughed shaking your head “bye ma” you kiss her cheek before leaving.

That was the night you met Paige, and god was she a flirt, she just wouldn’t give up “come onn, just one chance” she clapped her hands together as she followed you to the bar.

You shook your head with a laugh “you don’t give up do you?” You took a seat at the bar “nope” she smirked “what could go wrong?”. Your heart getting broken again, that’s what could happen. You knew Paige was a good person, but was just scared.

“You’re not gonna stop until I say yes, are you?” You looked at her. she shook her head, you looked down and sighed “fine..” “YES” Paige shoot up and cheered “but!!” You spoke up “uh-oh” she panicked.

“I..I have a daughter” you looked down, Paige slowly sat back next to you “how old” she asked softly “five months” you answered still not looking at her Paige nodded her head in thought “ok”.

You looked at her confused “what’s her favorite show?” Paige asked “why?” You asked. “So I know what to get her whenever I meet her” she smiled. You blinked “look, I don’t care about you having a kid. I like you a LOT” she said making you laugh a little.

“And I want to be with you” she took your hand in hers. After that night you and Paige had your first date which led too her meeting baby girl.

She drove you to (friends name) house to go get her due to her being fussy. “Shhh” you whispered in her ear softly rubbing her back, Paige watched with a smile seeing how different you were with her (baby name) lifted her head up to look at Paige with her big curious eyes, Paige panicked her eye widened as she froze.

You turned to look at her “you ok?” you asked seeing her face, she nodded that was all she could do. You’ve noticed her gaze on (baby name) and smiled “you wanna hold her?”. Paige’s eyes snapped to you “you su-sure I don’t wanna- you just got her to settle down..”.

“It fine Paige, she’s fine” you giggled at her nervousness you walked towards her, (baby name) eyes still on her.

You slowly place her in Paige’s arms and slowly backed away to see what would happen, both stared at each other with widened eyes. (Baby name)reached up and held Paige’s face in her chubby hands, you couldn’t help but laugh at Paige’s reaction.

(Baby name) begins to rub her eyes telling you that she was tired, she placed her head on Paige’s chest and began to fall asleep. Paige heart stopped, yes she held plenty of kids before but this was different. She looked back at you and saw you smiling at them, she looked back at (baby name) and softly smiled.

That was when she knew there was no way she would be able to let you and her go.

It’s been over a year now and things were going really good during that time you and (baby name) Paige’s mom and family, and they loved you especially (baby name).

You thought she was spoiled before, but now she was spoiled every.single.day, whenever Paige came home from practice she would bring home a toy for baby girl but tonight was different “Paige!” You looked at her shocked, she held what looks a four month old husky “what she loves it” Paige placed the puppy down and it immediately ran to (baby’s name).

It began licking her face and running around her making her laughs and giggles fill the room, Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind as you to watch your baby girl play with her new puppy “you spoil her to much” you mumbled in her arms “anything to make my girl happy” Paige kissed your head.

“Yeah, well I won’t be so happy in the morning. When I’m picking up it’s shit” you told her “don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it” she laughed. (Baby name) slowly waddled her way over toward you two “m..mama” she reached forward Paige.

You and Paige looked down at her shocked, Paige picked her up and held her in her arms “mama” (baby name) mumbled in Paige chest. Paige looked to you “did she just..” you nodded not knowing what to say. “Are you ok with her calling you that?” you asked.

Paige thought about it, over the past years she grown to love (baby name) like her own but hearing her call her mama mad it deal real. “I think so” she nodded and looked down at baby girl she was half asleep gripping Paige’s shirt the sight made her heart flutter.

“Let’s get a house” she blurred out looking back at you “w..what?” You looked at her shocked “I want us to get a house” she said more confident “we’re going to need more space with that one” she nodded to the puppy who was now playing with one of Paige‘s many shoes. “And we’re gonna need a backyard for when I teach her how to play basketball” she smirked.

“Oh really, who said she was playing basketball” you smiled gently getting closer to her “me” she pulls your by the waist and kisses you with so much love. That when You knew you made the right decision that night.



If there is any misspelled words, just ignore it I didn’t have time to go over it.

@thatonequeer0358 @numberonepartyanth3m @melpthatsme

[lqveharrington]

hii, i would love for you to do ‘the prophecy’ with fred weasley and ravenclaw reader!! thank you so much 💓

The Prophecy | F.W.

summary: fred’s starting to feel insecure in your relationship, and trelawney’s reading doesn’t make it any better.

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

includes: use of Y/N, insecure fred, a lot of overthinking, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: for some reason, this prompt stumped me so bad. so sorry if it’s not up to the usual standards 😭

One, two. One, two, three, four.

You impatiently counted how many times the alarm on Trelawney’s stupid clock would go off until she realized it wasn’t a crystal ball predicting a Hufflepuff's future. All you wanted was class to be over and be in the arms of your loving boyfriend, but they changed the house pairings for electives. Instead of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Luckily, you still had all your core classes with Gryffindor.

As you lazily blew on the small braid you gave yourself in your boredom, a crack of lightning struck right outside, causing Trelawney to jerk in surprise with horror etched into her face. It looked like she had just seen the grim itself.

She whipped her head around and looked directly at you, taking your hands in her shaky ones. She read your palm like the lines had magically changed since last class, muttering quietly to herself until cleared your throat in confusion.

“My dear, you will receive ill-advised news by the end of the week.” She whispered and pulled your hand closer to her buggy eyes, furrowing her brows when she saw your life line. “Expect your spirit to be broken and rebuilt by the one you trust the most.”

Your lips kissed you teeth in an unsettling manner. Was this your punishment for not listening to her and sometimes making fun of her? Did she want to make you feel bad about your life choices? Sure you bored out of your mind in class but that didn't mean you wanted a horrid reading.

Your eyes flickered toward the dark sky outside again, watching as the lightening struck louder than the last. Trelawney sighed and patted your hand shut, dismissing everyone with a quiet wave. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment before slowly leaving the tower, murmuring amongst themselves.

Furrowing your brows and flexing your hand, you took your things and hastily made your way down the ladder, narrowly avoiding your face splattering on the stone floor. You always believed in everything factual — Ravenclaw, through and through — and you weren't actually sure why you chose Divination as your elective. The crystal balls and tea leaf readings never seemed credible, always predicting the same things over and over again.

However, the Weasley Twins loved Divination. They often made up their readings and passed with Outstandings. George believed he had a natural aptitude for the class whilst Fred said he had unlocked his inner eye. But what they both heavily believed in was Trelawney's words — which you thought was utter rubbish.

When you had Divination with them in sixth year, she told them that they would encounter a horrible noise, sending someone they love plummeting. That same week, Harry retreived his golden egg from the first task and revealed it to be screeching merpeople in the common room, causing the twins to drop him from their shoulders to cover their ears. From that day onward, they clung onto her every word like it was the sacred truth.

Which it wasn't.

Shaking all thoughts of Divination out of your mind, you made your down to the Great Hall. It was your potions study hall with the rest of the sixth years, and you needed time to decompress after whatever stupid prophecy Trelawney read off you.

You scanned the hall and smiled when you saw the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina already working on their forty-inch essay for potions. Well, the girls were working on their essays. The twins and Lee were playing Exploding Snap — although they weren't very subtle with it.

The look on your face meant nothing but trouble. You shook your head and messed with them, putting your hands on the twins' shoulders and holding back a laugh when you saw them jump and pretend to work on their essays. Lee looked up at you and shook his head in amusement, nudging the two Weasleys to look behind them.

George was the first to turn and rolled his eyes when he saw you, scooting over so you could sit in between him and Fred. He took your bag and put it beside his on the ground, still grumbling under his breath.

"Blimey, Y/N. I thought Snape was going to take points off and give us detention again." George nudged your side with his elbow, ruffling your hair in the process.

"Again? What did you lot do in the few minutes it took for me to get here?" You tease and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own parchment out with only ten-inches left for your essay.

You quietly worked on your essay while ensuring the mischievous trio stayed on task, every so often glancing up to make sure they were doing anything stupid. As you wrapped up your essay, you looked up to your right and met Fred's eyes. You gave him a soft smile but only earned a half-hearted, tight-lipped nod back.

Parchment crinkled under your hold before you released a breath. You pursed your lips and went back to your essay, forcing back the tears of frustration from spilling out. For the past two weeks, Fred began to grow more and more distant from you. You weren't sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he wouldn't give you an answer and the rest of your friends... Well, they didn't know if you wanted to know from them.

You felt like you were slowly sinking further away from him and you couldn't do anything. Biting your tongue to stop anymore thoughts, you turned in your essay to Snape and swiftly left the Great Hall with no spare glances toward the Gryffindors.

The states of pity from your friends only made you feel like you were crumbling into forever broken pieces.

You sat with your back against a great oak, throwing another stone into the Black Lake. The ripples echoed and repeated until they settled, the small bubbles diminished.

The rays of the sun hit your eyes, causing you to wince softly. You turned to the side and fully expected Fred to be sitting next to you, a small frown etching its way to your lips when you saw nothing but the Hogwarts castle.

Fred usually came with you whenever you needed to relax, but thinking about the past few weeks only hurt your heart.

As the whispers from the Forbidden forest grew stronger and the sun slowly descended behind the trees, you shut your eyes and leaned your head against the tree. You wished you didn’t have to leave your spot; you were only just beginning to clear your mind.

Frustratedly, you rub your closed eyes with the palms of your hands, freezing when someone spoke from behind you. That someone having an all too familiar voice.

"Love, you're going to irritate your eyes."

Your head whipped around to stare at the boy you fell deeply in love with last year at the Yule Ball. The glare you threw at him could’ve petrified him. "You have no right to call me love after ignoring me for two — almost three — weeks.”

Fred swallowed thickly and sat on a boulder beside you. He knew he was in the wrong for avoiding you for so long without telling you the truth. He believed that it was better for you not to know, but what good was it in the long run?

"I know, I'm sorry." He mumbled and bit his lip, looking down at his tattered shoes rather than meeting your eyes. "It's okay if you never want to see me ever again or choose to hate me, but I avoided you because — " He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Godric, he was going to sound like such a stupid prick. "Because of a prophecy Trelawney gave me."

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you threw a small rocks at his legs. Your voice rang out clear and loud, reminding him of his own mother. "Are you kidding me? Frederick Gideon Weasley! You've been avoiding me because of a stupid reading?”

"I'm sorry! But what she said about me made it seem like you needed someone better!" He let your rocks hit him and huffed, frustration bubbling within himself. He took in a breath before looking back over at you. "She told me that the something I love will succeed but only if a great weight of unstableness no longer burdened it."

You crease your brows in confusion and drop the rest of your rocks onto the ground, shaking your head as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"Love, you're bloody brilliant." Fred met your eyes for the first time in days. All he wanted to do was have you in his arms again and press kisses everywhere he could, but he still owed an explanation to you. "You've passed all your OWLs with flying colors and you've studied so hard for you NEWTs." He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'm the burden that will hold you back if you choose to stay with me."

Your initial annoyance and anger melted away at his words, eyes softening at the sight of his dejected state. "Freddie, you're not a burden to me or anyone — “

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I have no money. When you need support, you wouldn't get any from me. I'm not good enough for you."

Five seconds of utter silence took over. The fluttering of the owls delivering mail overhead and the sounds of the curfew bell were the only things that were heard.

Before Fred could even register what was happening, you flung yourself into his arms and rested your head on his. He froze before wrapping his arms around your midsection, burying himself into your chest. He breathed in your scent, body releasing all the tension he had stored inside.

This wasn’t the first time Fred has ever felt insecure about your relationship. There had been other times where he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, but you were always there to reassure him whenever he voiced them to you. It was horrible to see him act like someone other than his usual self. You loved who he was and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Freddie…” You rub his back gently and feel him melt into you. “I don't need any money. Your words are enough support for me.”

He only nodded in response, missing your touch after days of avoidance. Fred felt your move around so you were sitting beside him, your hands moving to turn his head toward you.

You smiled at him and thumbed his cheeks. "And didn't I tell you not to believe everything Trelawney says? I doubt she was taking about our relationship." You pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling him into another hug, "I love you, Freddie. Don't ever forget that."

When he didn’t say anything, you pulled away and looked over his features, brows furrowing as you saw his teary eyes.

"Fred —?”

"I love you so much, woman." He murmured before capturing your lips in a mind-searing manner, feeling you smile into the kiss. Fred pulled away for a breath before placing another tender kiss to your lips, thumbing the bottom lip when you pulled away in a daze. "You're my soulmate."

You grin shyly and lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "No more overthinking, okay?" You watched as he nodded at you, his face flushing a deep shade of red when you began to pepper kisses on his neck. Each kiss meaning the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fred took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, chuckling when you got flustered over a simply gesture. "You might make me fall even deeper in love with you."

You hummed and pressed one last kiss to his lips, both of you grinning like idiots in love. "Have I changed the prophecy yet?"

"Hm, you'll have to let me check again." He said softly and gave you one final breathtaking kiss, squeezing your hip. "I think so."

"I love you, Fred Weasley." You sigh happily and kiss his cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill To Die On

This is most of Chapter 1, cutting before the smut. IT DOES GET SPICY THOUGH. 🌶️⚠️ Some of this has been posted before, but figured I'd give you all one nice big chunk of it!

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The New Year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting to muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough Tim could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason. It was a good time of the year.

His hair really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs.

He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting—a replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim didn’t know if he would. Tim refused to just fill in the space that was left open anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the replacement. The other Robin. The other son.

It was a problem.

Another problem was, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even with the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

-

Clothing was an issue.

Tim had grown. Not much mind, but enough that the shoulders were a little tight and bottoms a little short. Well, the bottoms weren’t a huge matter in that moment. Caroline wanted to go out to a club after all; they could work with a too short skirt. The top though… Caroline adjusted the black strap of the lacy bra. Even with the right padding in, it still didn’t look right.

She chewed on her lower lip, still messily smeared with bright red, as she held another top up against her chest. That wouldn’t do either. Caroline gave the box of old clothing a little kick. Hum. She should paint her toenails.

Focus, Caroline.

It was time to look outside of her box.

Fifteen minutes and a pair of scissors later and one of Alvin’s too large and nondescript red t-shirts had become a drop shoulder crop top. It wasn’t the most amazing fit, but as she dressed it up with the right necklace looped a few times around her throat, a splash of red and leather in the bracelets (cover the scars, they were identifying marks), she figured she could pull off the look—at least for getting sweaty in some dark club.

Ever grateful for quick drying polish, Caroline did a rush job of all her nails and waved them impatiently dry before she did her make up properly. Some contouring, false lashes, the right highlights, step by step Caroline felt herself come alive again until staring back from there mirror was no Tim or Timothy or Alvin—just her.

Just Caroline.

She let out the breath she had been holding.

-

Finding the right club took a little bit. Her old favorite had shut down, apparently. That wasn’t uncommon with the short lifespan of clubs and even less so in Gotham with the money laundering and drug rings that often went with the clubs, but it still sucked. Caroline wanted somewhere that if someone got very handsy on the dance floor there wouldn’t be issue with everything that was carefully and securely tucked away in her underwear. The person might not want all that, which was perfectly fine as long they parted ways amicably.

(And if not, well, one of her bracelets could be shockingly persuasive.)

She tucked her fake ID back away in the hidden pocket of her bra, not minding the bit of a show it gave. Tim would have to make her a new one; she didn’t needed the fake age anymore. Then, with a steadying breath, she entered the thudding music, bright lights, and throng of bodies of the club. It took a moment to adjust to it all. This wasn’t always Caroline’s favorite thing, but they needed to relax already. Any tenser and something was going to snap.

Besides, this is where the boys failed and Caroline thrived; slipping between bodies, flirting, giving enough to capture attention without actually giving anything away. Dealing with a mass of people was a complex game of chess and Caroline very much intended to be the conquering queen.

The bar was the first stop, ordering a fruity martini so that she could sip at the drink and people watch for a time. It was always good to get a feel for things before diving in. It also gave her time to get used to being her again as she fielded a few flirtatious advances which landed her another drink in turn for the first dance of the night with her. She didn’t linger long.

She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for. Caroline flitted across the dance floor from partner to partner, just letting herself enjoy the thud of the beat and the press of bodies. She always moved on before people could get too invested (or too handsy).

Caroline was on the edge of the floor, slipping away from one dance and looking for the next when a laughing group at a close by table shoved one of their number her way. She took a tentative step back, but didn’t actually need to. The poor sacrificial lamb found his footing rather gracefully.

He ducked his head with a crooked smile that was actually somehow charming. “Sorry about them.”

“Stay on target, Danny!” someone called from the table to cheers and jeers.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Really sorry. Just, ah, I maybe have been talking about how pretty you are and how much I want to dance with you for, like, the last twenty minutes. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is rude, but would you like to dance?”

Caroline tilted her head and tried not to smile in too predatory a way. “You’ve been watching me?”

“It’s hard not to, with how you move.”

She laughed at that. This one was so earnest. That was odd for Gotham.

���Once dance,” Caroline said, holding out a hand. “Unless you have the moves and then maybe you’ll get more.”

Danny took the hand and brushed a kiss against it. “One dance, to start.”

-

Despite any doubts that Caroline might have had, Danny knew how to move. She’d lost count of the song they had danced to about the time that Danny’s hand had first slid up her shirt. She rolled her hips, grinding back against Danny’s tight jeans and growing arousal. Danny followed her lead beautifully.

His teeth scrapped lightly against her neck and she threw back her head for him, letting him suck a mark into her skin. She enjoyed the thought of Tim being stuck with a reminder of her night out. (Maybe it would convince him to have some fun of his own.)

Danny’s hand slid down from where it had been cupping a breast, traced over her stomach, and moved to her skirt. Caroline caught it before Danny could do more than slip a few fingertips past the band.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her ear.

“Not that,” Caroline said. She turned her head to press a kiss against the corner of Danny’s mouth, smearing robin red against his tan skin. “Just need to let you know there’s more down there than you might be expecting.”

She held her breath as tightly as she held Danny’s hand. It this went bad, she wanted to be able to act quickly.

Danny’s huff of air sounded amused.

She relaxed her grip slightly.

The hand slipped a little lower.

“To me, any combination of bits is a good combination. I’m up for all sorts of surprises,” Danny assured her. His fingers ran over just the top edge of her underwear, not really touching anything, but applying just enough pressure that she shuddered. “She’ okay to use?”

“Yes. She, her, Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Danny said her name like it was a prayer.

She guided his hand a little lower.

His touch stayed almost teasing and Caroline had to alternate between pressing forward into his hand and grinding backwards against him until Danny pulled them so close together that she could barely move. And fuck, it had been too long for any of them. She half thought that if she put in the effort, or Danny’s hand dipped any lower, that she could manage to come right there on the dance floor.

That was not how she wanted tonight to go.

She ran her hands through Danny’s hair and tilted his head where she wanted it. So that she could nip at his ear lobe. “Tell me you live close.”

“In walking distance.”

[sylvia-und-sybille]

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it’ll have when it’s done? 2.3K+ now, and whatever happens, that happens.

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP? 3 days.

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone? AU location (starts as) and aged-up characters.

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV? OTP only. Even as 3rd person's point of view there's little of point of view at all (as thoughts or just about a person alone.)

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP? OTP talk & do things together.

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar? It can happen in 0.001% of cases (if, then fanfictions only.)

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it’s done? Posted, printed, published, etc? Posted only.

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Romance, as it's about a lot of love (as in every fanfiction about them.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Humour. Unfortunately, no funny moments.

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing? So (for years.) If exaggerate, the answer is, so what? So to be it. | Whenever possible, I try to find other way to glue parts of looong sentences and not to break them into shorter ones. The writer of the original version had looong sentences as well and paragraphs can seem almost endless in many cases.

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP? EVERY SINGLE of my fanfictions & original stories has happy end (unless past when I wanted to write about harm done to or defeat of a bad or unpleasant character.) In the case of latest WIP fanfiction: deep sadness of both, character 2: wish to cry before relief, no harm.

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it? They would look forward to a plot twist (mostly character 2, as character 1 had an idea.)

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be? Rainbow, as they deserve.

🍩 [Donut] What’s the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What’s the best thing? No food or drinks are mentioned (yet?)

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP? No, and I almost don't know people in real life. Yes, I'm so called "live under a rock."

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence. At first, the two are icebergs, but very, very soon, nothing is under water . . . (They talk about character 1 as having an iceberg, so . . .) . . . positive plot twist, philosophical discussion, something else unexpected (positive again.) (Note: something else is before plot twist, though. | I've had to search for answers to at least understand how such description can be possible.)

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for? What does it mean even? If as not accepted, one of important parts is gender non-conformity. Those who are against girls & women who don't look feminine can be highly displeased. BUT what can I say, the version the fanfiction is based on has scenes with character 2 in man's shirt. So yes, haters can hate as long as they want.

UPDATE a day after: I've had an idea (chapter 2, not one-shot as it was planned initially) which is the reason to "get cancelled on Twitter," but I don't care. The idea supposed to be a part of some future fanfiction (no matter which, but based on the modern version of the story,) but the wish to add this to the current one was too strong, so it will be here :D The first chapter discussed above has two plot twists, but this idea is an enormous plot twist. Second plot twist & new one will result in (in my opinion, at least) it's too good to be true | unrealistic, but I don't care. I want this to exist, so it will.

Random WIP Ask Game

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it'll have when it's done?

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP?

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone?

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV?

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar?

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it's done? Posted, printed, published, etc?

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing?

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP?

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it?

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be?

🍩 [Donut] What's the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What's the best thing?

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP?

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

[chaotic-mystery]

Hotline to Heaven | Joel Miller x reader

✧ Summary: An inquisitive man gets more than what he's used to when he pushes the wrong number on a phone sex hotline.

✧ Content Warnings: MDNI ! 18+ only. dom!reader, sub!joel, pre outbreak, empty house means he's up to no good, porn connoisseur, phone sex, dirty talk ( i mean duh) mutual masturbation, swearing, orgasm denial, safeword mentioned but not used, talking him through it this time, a little aftercare, slight mention of one of my favorite movies bc I know Joel would've liked it too.

✧ Authors Note: This is my submission for @wannab-urs DMAMC 2025 that you can find the masterlist here. A goal of mine this year is to step out of my writing bubble when it comes to challenges and write things I normally wouldn't on my own. If you read my work, you know this is a roles reversed situation for me and I'm nervous to share it but also excited! Thank you, Gin, for letting me be a part of this, I love you <3 As always big ups to my twin for beta reading for me, love you, Ali.

red line divider | cover and matching dividers made by (Ali) & I |

✧ WC: 2.4K | masterlist | requests | update blog | ✧

Being a single dad was not an easy job, but Joel made it work somehow. With lots and lots of pancakes and promised sleepovers at friends houses if Sarah kept her grades up. 

Another Friday night at home alone while Sarah was in the next town over, probably hopped up on soda and candy, Joel digs out his laptop from the bag on the floor and sets it up on the cherrywood coffee table. The house was quiet for the most part, the low humming of the dryer down the hallway in the laundry room. 

Booting up the old computer, Joel tilts his head back on the sofa and makes sure his brown curtains are closed along with the white blinds he just put up a few weeks ago. Joel's finger moves against the worn trackpad, opening up the DVD rom to pop in the movie he rented from blockbuster on his drive home from dropping off Sarah. 

Joel reads the cover while it loads to open. His favorite actress being the main character got him all excited and may have been the only reason he rented it to begin with. It definitely wasn’t because she was playing a vampire in a latex bodysuit.

About halfway through the movie and many scenes later of this character being an absolute badass, Joel could feel the growing tension in his jeans. Wanting to take care of the problem to finish the movie he'd grown invested in, he pauses it and opens up a web browser and goes to his tried and true adult website. The amount of pop up ads always annoyed him, he just wanted to find something to watch and keep it moving. 

Until tonight. 

A banner flashes right above the search bar filled with his previous endeavors, the colors immediately catching his eyes. 

“What the hell is this?” He mutters to himself as he watches the words change. 

A number pops up with tiny images of girls in the corner of the banner. Feeling adventurous, he digs out his phone from his pocket and dials the number before it changes to a new ad. 

He’s met with an automated message, overly seductive and giving him the rundown of what he’s getting himself into. His finger hovers over the pound button to confirm he was consenting to this, that he was willing to continue. The line beeps a few times before a new message starts to play. 

”Press one if you want to meet me, the girl next door.” 

The voice changes to a new girl, “press two if you want to fix my leaky pipes.” 

Another different voice, “press three if you want to punish me for not turning in my college essay.”

”Press four to meet me and my best friend, Layla.”

”Hit five if you wanna romp in the hay with me, yeehaw!”

Joel snickers at the generic attempt at a southern accent. 

“Call me into your office by pressing six!”

Joel could hardly contain himself at all the options he was given, and he had three more he’d yet to hear. 

“Select seven to meet me, Vixen the d-“ 

Before the voice finished speaking, his finger pushed a button and he wasn’t sure which one he chose. Frankly, he was excited for any of them.

Your line was ringing and it wasn’t too often it did, no one usually got past Katie and Layla. 

Picking up the phone, you smile when you hear the southern drawl in his words. 

“Have you been a bad boy today?” You almost whisper into the phone before he responds. 

“Y-yes, I have, darlin.” His tone was a little confused, unsure of what he just answered.

You grin and sit up straighter. 

“Well, good thing I’m in the mood to punish you.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he doesn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the number he meant to push. He wasn’t really the type of man to want to be told what to do.

From anyone. 

“Darlin’ can you tell me which button I pushed by chance?”

He was trying to be as polite as he could and you were going to have some fun with this. 

“You pushed seven and here I am; Vixen the Dom.” Smirking at the quiet line, you wonder for a split second if he hung up.

“I-I’m sorry…dom? I don’t know if this is really something I’m into. I mean, that’s great if you’re someone who can but that doesn’t sound like me.”

“I get it. You can’t let go of that control, scared to see a new side to yourself. I understand. If you want to hang up and redial I understand.”

Joel hesitates hanging up and he glides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What exactly…would I be getting myself into with you, Vixen?”

What a curious man. 

“You’d give me control, no backtalk, no resisting, you submit to me. There’s a safeword we can use at any point if it gets to be too much for you. At that point I’d stop and we can calm down, just talk. I never get mad at someone using a safe word.”

“A-and what’s the safe word?” The temptation in his voice shows you he’s interested. 

“Hopscotch.” 

His chuckle rings through your ear and makes your face warm, giggling at his reaction. 

“So, you’ve stayed here this long and I can tell you’re curious. Are you going to let me take control of you, I didn’t get your name” You state, trying to guess before he answers.

“Joel. Names Joel. It’s a pleasure to spend the night with you tonight, Vixen.” 

The respect he was giving already showed you how natural it came to him, he was this way in his day to day life. 

“You’re going to be my good boy tonight, Joel?” 

“Y-yes” he hesitantly responds. 

“Yes, ma’am. Repeat it.” Goosebumps raise on your arms and the excitement shakes your core

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to tell you what to think, what to say, I’m going to do everything I want to you until you’re begging me to let you come.” You bite your lip and smirk, your body excited for this phone call. 

“I want you to close your eyes and I want you to grab your bulge and rub it, slowly for me,” You say sternly but seductively, propping your legs up so your knees are bent, freehand resting on your abdomen.

You can hear his belt jingle and some shuffling from the other end of the phone, causing you to smirk. He doesn’t get it, it’s new for him. It was painfully obvious but you decided to take it slow for his first time. 

“I didn’t say to undo your belt and ditch your pants, did I? I said rub your bulge, just rub it.”

“Y-yes ma’am.” His breath was shaky from anticipation and nerves, it was cute. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into with you.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Tell me what you want,” you tease, your fingers dancing above your panty line. 

“I wish you were here right now. Tell me to lay on my back while you get on top and ride my face until I'm begging for air. I want you to use me until you come all over my face and make me clean you up before you ride my big dick. Use me, Ms. Vixen, p-please.” Joel’s whimpers make you feel that boiling heat in your stomach before you feel your panties get wet, for a half second he takes your breath away.

“Ms.Vixen? Hm, you’re learning quickly I see. Reach in your pants and take your cock out for me, get it nice and wet. I want to hear how needy you are for me.”

You hear his belt unbuckle followed by the soft sound of him spitting into his hand, married with a groan of pleasure. 

“Now, you want to be my good boy tonight, right?” You ask and dip your hand inside your panties, softly teasing yourself. This was so unlike you, normally you didn’t want to touch yourself during a call. He was different. 

”You aren’t going to come until I tell you, alright? Think you can handle that, baby?” 

“I can handle that, yes ma’am.”

Hearing the wet sounds from him jerking his cock off makes you grin and a moan almost slips out but you catch yourself and give a small giggle. 

”It’s cute the way you fuck your hand and pretend its my pussy, big grown man just aching to be put in his place. I want to watch your face when I slip your cock inside me, baby. I’ll keep a fistful of your hair so you keep your eyes on me, let me watch you go to another planet when you realize how deep you are.”

Joel moans loudly and he can’t catch his breath as he imagines how good it would feel inside you and to be used by you. 

“Y-yes please, Vixen. Ride my cock and make yourself feel good, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

You circle your clit faster as your legs tremble, your moans swirling together to sound like a beautiful harmony. 

“I can ride you and wrap my hand around your throat while I put my panties in your mouth to keep you quiet, wouldn’t want anyone to hear those pretty whimpers, now would we?”

“Can-can you tell me what your panties look like, darlin’? Please.” Joel stutters out and moans just thinking about it.

Biting your lip, you hold the handset closer to your mouth as you continue fingering your soaked cunt with your other hand.

“They’re lace, black of course. With a little red bow right in front of the waistband. Sick little pervert you are. Makes my pussy so wet thinking about you trying to moan my name but I can’t understand you with them in your mouth. Even when you’re begging for more, begging to come I can’t hear you.”

Joel groans louder and all you can see in your head as your eyes are squeezed shut is how handsome he sounds Just the pretty whimpers he makes has you thinking how good looking he must be, how his dick is so slippery in his fist from all the precum and spit. 

“I bet you’d lose your mind if I pinned your hands down and really took all control from you, wouldn’t you baby? You’d squirm and try to touch me but you can’t, not while I’m playing with you like a toy. You’re my toy, do you hear me? Mine. Say you’re mine while you jerk off.” Your breaths get shorter as you moan softly, finally letting him hear how turned on you are. 

“I’m just your playtoy, Ms.Vixen. Onl-ly yours. I p-promise. Fuck it feels so good, shit.” 

The silk sheets under your skin slide under you as you squirm, giving into him a little more with each beg he cries out. This feels like heaven and you can’t get enough of him. Part of you wanted to stop touching yourself to keep him on the phone longer, partially because you didn’t know if he’d ever call again. 

“Let go of your pretty cock. Don’t touch it and listen to me.” You demand calmly and smirk when you hear him groan in annoyance.

“Is that an attitude I hear?” you ask condescendingly. 

“No ma’am, no ma’am.” he quickly retorts. Good boy. 

“I’ve got two fingers inside me right now but they just don’t compare to your cock I bet. You’d probably keep me up all night and let me turn you every which way but loose, hm? Think you could keep up with me, sweetheart? How about I cuff your hands to the bed and suck your cock until you can’t take it anymore and beg to paint my face with your cum.”

You can hear a slew of profanities and Joel groans almost in pain and he whines, “God dammit that’s so hot. Please let me jerk off, baby. It’s killing me not to touch myself while I think about stuffing you full of my dick. Your perfect body on mine, what a pleasure that would be. Please, may I touch myself?”

Clamping your legs closed so you don’t come yourself, you tell him to continue and soon once more your moans mix together. 

“I-I need to come, Ms.Vixen. Please let me be a goodboy and come, p-please-oh fuckkk-”

“You want to come for me, baby boy? I’m going to have to think about whether you deserve it or not, sweetheart.” 

“Let me show you how good you make me feel, I need you so bad. C’mon baby-oh shittt- please?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you have this aching urge to hear him come and whimper in your ear. Hearing men be so whiny when they come was music to your ears. 

“Go on then, show me the pretty sounds you make when you come, baby. Jerk that fuckin’ cock off while you think about me. Think about coming on my tits, these pretty fucking titties that would look even better with your cock between them. C’mon honey, come for me, right now. Be my favorite toy.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was groaning loudly into the phone, enough to make you cover your mouth and come with him. Couldn’t let him know how down bad he already had you. 

Your ears were ringing slightly but you could still hear the shuffling from his end, probably cleaning himself up and the mess he made. 

“You alright over there, big guy?” You ask, trying to calm your breathing. 

“It was a lot, let’s just say I made a mess” he chuckles and sighs tiredly.

“How was that for your first time being a sub? I tried to take it slow for you.” 

“That was uh, that was the best time I’ve had in a while. You really know what you’re doing, huh? I’d love to call you again, maybe your direct line next time?” 

You shake your head and chuckle at him. Silly boy. 

“I had a fun time tonight, Joel. Maybe if you call me again I’ll think about giving you my phone number.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, Vixen. It was a pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night, my good boy.” 

The line goes silent and Joel puts his cellphone down on the couch cushion beside him, taking a deep breath as he circles back over everything he just did. Closing out of the tab and continuing his movie, he enjoyed it but Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you the rest of the night. 

Even when he was in his bed trying to sleep, you consumed his brain and he needed more. 

A lot more, but of course, only if you let him. 

[thesquidgame]

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed. 

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room. 

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you. 

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled. 

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!” 

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit. 

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube. 

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown. 

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face. 

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?” 

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?” 

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.” 

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon. 

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!” 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed. 

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.” 

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.” 

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder. 

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.” 

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable. 

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.” 

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.” 

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[eand47]

Troublemaker

ONE SHOT - Portgas D Ace/Reader (female)

DESCRIPTION: Modern AU | High School - smut, fluff, slight angst

SUMMARY: You are known around school as quite the rebellious girl, who makes more of her statements by wearing high knee stockings which are against the school dress code. He is the new guy in school who always sits on the back of the class and every time he puts his glasses on you find it him extremely adorable. The problem is that he doesn't seem to want to socialize with anyone and you don't know how to approach him until one lucky day you get to become his project partner.

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, explicit sexual content, NSFW, mentions of bullying, mentions of cannabis/weed, mentions of violence, mentions of death, lost of a parent, both characters as 19 years old, oral sex (f! receiving), nipple play (f! receiving), slight aggression, use of condom (as you should!!!), hints of depression, old-mindset and views teachers, MDNI

WORD COUNT: 20,5K

✰ masterlist ✰

NOTE: Thank you all for your patience ♡ I hope you enjoy this little modern au story of high school Ace and Reader. I want to point out that I HAVE NEVER EVER BEFORE WRITTEN A SMUT so please keep this in mind once you reach this point of the story. It was my first time so please bear with me as it was cringe and very challenging to write at the same time, but anyway haha. I hope that it is not that bad. Enjoy ♡

another thing to add - this one shot is a special one for my girl @3rtxaa as if it wasn’t for one of her posts of how she images real life Ace, the idea of it would have never been born, ly girly ♡ ♡ ♡

!ALSO PLEASE IF SOMEONE KNOW WHO IS THE ARTIST BEHIND THIS FANART OF ACE IN THE BANNER LET ME KNOW SO I CAN CREDIT THEM!

Autum is just around the corner, and it is time to get back to school. You can’t wait for this school year to finish and be done with high school once and for all. It is not like you have had the worst experiences in the past four years, but you are ready for something new and mostly to leave the pretentious school your parents have signed you in. You are desperate for something new and exciting. Your town isn’t small, quite the opposite, but you still want to move and live somewhere else after you graduate this year.

Parking your car in the parking lot of your school you let out a long sigh. ‘Same faces, same cases’ you thought to yourself. Grabbing your big bag full of text and notebooks, which you must now leave in your locker, from the back seat of your car, you hopped off and shut the door. After locking the car, you start making your way to school. Pulling your skirt down as you feel it raising up, you sigh annoyed once again. You have always hated school uniforms, and how unfair it is that girls must always wear skirts and the boys pants like you are in the 60s. At least the colors of it aren’t so bad – a dark royal blue with a blazer in the same color and a white shirt under it. You are always wearing over the knee stockings under it and not a full set of stockings, which has caused you troubles a few times. Some old-school teachers found this quite inappropriate, and it goes against the school dress code, but this hasn’t stopped you from wearing them again and again.

The school is known for being one of the most prestigious in town. And while you can disagree with how true this is, your parents’ biggest pride is that their daughter gets to study there. Which you never get because they are very laid-back parents who support you and your rebellious nature. You have wanted to move to a different one many times, but you never voiced it as you don’t want to disappoint them. But now it doesn’t matter as all you need to do is push through the next nine months. Taking a step inside the old but well-maintained building you make your way to your locker. Putting the code in the padlock you have, you unlocked it and quickly emptied your heavy bag in it. Before you close it, you pull your phone to check what class you are having first so you can grab the textbook you need.

“Literature.” Someone says behind you. You recognize the voice immediately and turn around.

“Thank you, I would be lost without you.” You reply as you wrap your arms around your best friend Robin. Pulling away from the hug you grab your literature textbook and close your locker as you and Robin start walking towards your class. You have been friends since the beginning of high school, from the first day of school you two click immediately. Since then, you have been unseparated, she is like the sister you have never got to get. This was the first summer where you both didn’t have enough time because of work to hang out every day but it was worth it as now you have enough saved money to spend on whatever your heart desired.

“How are you doing today, excited for the last first day of high school?” She giggles as she sees you expression.

“You better help me get through this year, because if we don’t go to the same university, I’m offing myself.” You joke with her, even though there is a bit of truth in what you say. Even if you both want to study for different programs you have made an agreement that you will still be at the same university. You aren’t one of the most social people to begin with despite your bubbly nature, so being in a totally new environment without your best friend will be like a living hell for you.

“Of course you will get through it, you have me after all.” She smiles and nudges your side as you enter your literature class. There aren’t many people here yet, but your eyes draft to the back of the room. On the last single desk is sitting a guy who you have never seen before. You and Robin take your seats in the middle of the room next to each other. Turning your head back you take another look at the guy over your shoulder. With one hand on the desk and the other on the windowsill with his body leaning on the back of the chair and manspreading his legs he looks quite tall. His dark raven black hair with messy curls falling freely around his frowned face which is turned to the window so you can only observe his side profile. His nose is straight, and his lips are full and somehow so alluring to your attention. Another thing that catches your attention is his freckles which thanks to the lighting you are able to notice even though he is two rows behind you. Turning your head slowly to Robin, who is scrolling on her phone, you nudge her with your elbow.

“Hey, Rob. Who is this guy on the back of the class?” You lean closer to her and whisper so only she can hear you. She raises her head from her phone and looks at the back of the class, squinting her eyes so she can take a better look at the guy.

“No, idea. Maybe he is the new guy. I heard some people from our year talking about having a new classmate.” Robin turns back to you with a shrug.

“I didn’t know we are having a new classmate.”

“Me, too. I found out today when I came, so it must be him.” She says and turns her attention back to her phone. You can’t stop but take another look at him. His position hasn’t changed but the moment you look at him, his eyes move and lock with yours. His stare is pierced, your eyes widen from embarrassment and quickly look away. Even for the ten seconds that you were able to see his face, he was handsome. You can’t remember the last time when a guy has had your interest so quickly by just his looks, but this one seems to have this effect on you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the loud annoying laughter by no other but your least favorite person to exists in this school – Isuka. Rolling your eyes once you see her, you open your notebook and start drawing some doodles just so you don’t need to look at her. Taking her seat right next to you she brushes her ginger hair with the back of her hand and smirks.

“Hey, (Y/N). Robin.” She says and her dumb protégés – Lyla and Nora laugh along with her. You just side-eye her and say nothing. “I missed you, two. Especially you (Y/N), how were working as a lifeguard at the kid’s pool this summer? Did my daddy pay you good?” Isuka made fun of you in her typical arrogant tone with a fake smile on her face.

“He obviously didn’t pay good enough the nannies you had growing up.” You finally look at her and give her the same fake smile she is giving you. You have known Isuka since the start of high school and since day one she picked on you for whatever reason. It isn’t some kind of rivalry, sometimes her comments are pure bullying, but you have never let her affect you. The only time she almost got under your skin was when you caught her with your so-called ex-boyfriend making out by the pool at the graduation’s party a few months ago. You didn’t care so much about him and what he did as much as with whom he did it. But this is in the past now, you are more than glad that you don’t have to deal with this guy anymore, but still every time you think of it your blood boils only because of the disrespect this guy has caused you.

“Hm, be careful there, do I need to remind you who Derek choose?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she tries to irritate you more. Instead, you laugh out loud – does she really think that a guy like Derek is the prize?

“Isuka, if you think a guy like Derek is the goal, then I really pity you from the bottom of my heart.” You coo with face sympathy for her which leaves her mouth open. Robin starts giggling next to you. Isuka frowns with her eyebrows ready to say something, but the teacher comes in and the whole class goes silent. You haven’t noticed that everyone has arrived until now.

“You got her good this time.” Robin leans closer to you and whispers.

“I’m so sick and tired of this spoiled bitch.” You whine quietly only for Robin to hear you. She only nods with her head as the teacher starts to speak.

“As you all are aware, this year is the most important for you all, especially given the fact that one of your major exams is on English and literature. If I haven’t been strict enough with you till now, then this year will be totally different.” You can’t stop yourself from snorting and whispering to Robin while the teacher continues with her ‘welcome back’ speech.

“Yeah, it’s not like she has ever been nice to us at least once. Old wanna be Barbie.” Both you and Robin shared a quite laugher, but it is quickly interrupted by your teacher.

“Did I say something funny Miss (Y/L/N)?” The sixty something woman, with long thin blond hair and badly done makeup for her age looks stern at you as she waits for your response. “Care to share with the class?”

“I think I will keep this one for myself, Mrs. Kenet.” You half shrug with one shoulder while giving her a smile. The teacher only gives you a warning look before continuing.

“I don’t want to waste more time in meaningless talks so before we start, please the new student, stand up and introduce yourself.” Mrs. Kenet gestures to the guy in the back to stand and introduce himself with her face unpleased as always. Everyone turns their heads to the black-haired guy waiting for him to stand up. You are carefully observing him as he clears his throat and stands up.

“My name is Ace and I’m the new student, obviously.” His voice is low and raspy but still deep. Now as he stands up you are able to take a better look at him – his shirt isn’t properly tuck in his pants as the school demands and its sleeves are rolled which is another thing some teachers might complain about. Also, the tie that the guys are demanded to wear tightly around their necks is very loose which is going to cause him to receive a comment from our teacher immediately as she is one of the demanding ones. You move your eyes to where your teacher is standing, and you can see her already frowning over her book with all the students’ names in it.

“Mr. Portgas haven’t you read the schools guidebook about the dress code?” She asks as she shoots him with a very judgmental look.

“I did.” Ace replies, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging as he doesn’t see the problem with his outfit. In his eyes he has done everything as it says in the stupid seventy-page school guidelines book he received two weeks ago, and his mom made sure he reads it. He is wearing the stupid school uniform and the suffocating tie around his neck, what more this old hag wants from him.

“I will ask once Mr. Portgas – tuck your shirt, roll down your sleeves and fix your tie.” Mrs. Kenet straitens her posture and crosses her arms over her chest as she starts taping with her finger on her forearm waiting for Ace to do what he is told. He bites the insides of his cheeks and clenches his jaw as he tries to not cause himself problems from the first day and the first class in the new school. After all he has promised his mother that he would behave… as much as he can. Rolling his sleeves down and tucking the front of the shirt in his pants he keeps his eyes on the old hag which is now on his list with teachers he will not stand. Fixing the tie last, he gives her a ‘are you happy now’ look to which Mrs. Kenet nods and lets him sit back down. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her, Ace unintentionally looks at you and your eyes lock once again. Why are you staring at him again? Does he have something on his face?

He overheard your interaction with the bratty girl earlier and thought it was funny. Though, he can’t help but notice that you are somewhat troublemaker yourself. The interaction with the bratty girl and then the teacher, you are not one of the amenable ones. On top of it, you checking him out doesn’t go unnoticed either. But Ace is planning to stay out of trouble this year, mainly because he has promised his mother, who had to move to entirely new city just because her son got expelled from his previous school for bad behavior. Still, he can’t move his eyes from (Y/N), if he catches your name correctly. As last time, you are the one who breaks the eye contact first and turns your attention to whatever the teacher is talking about. His eyes stay on you a little longer and draft lower on your body. White knee stockings with a little bow on the side – this isn’t very ‘dress code’ friendly, you should definitely get scold for this. ‘Troublemaker’ he thinks to himself as he opens his notebook and starts writing whatever Mrs. Kenet is writing on the board.

Squinting his eyes to see better, Ace sighs as it is pointless to do so, so he pulls his glasses case from his backpack and places them on the bridge of his nose. He hates them but lenses irritate his eyes way too much, so he must suffer with the glasses. The class finishes in forty minutes so the moment the bell rings Ace is one of the first students to get up and leave. You are getting up from your chair when you feel someone bumping into you accidentally.

“Shit, sorry.” The deep low voice behind you says. You don’t have much time to react as Ace, if you remember correctly his name, is already leaving the room. You follow him with your eyes as he leaves the room – he is definitely something, but what exactly you can’t pinpoint yet. But he is cute, especially with glasses on. He doesn’t give off the nerd vibe but there is this thing about him that tells you he is the type which prefers to be by themselves.

“Easy there.” You hear a mocking voice behind you. You turn around to meet with Isuka’s insolent smile. “I saw you eyeing the new guy, but if you think you have a chance with a guy like him, I really pity you from the bottom of my heart.” She repeats the exact same words you’ve told her earlier. Instead of giving her the satisfaction of offending you in any type of way, you just eye her from the top to bottom and snort out laughter. This causes her to stomp with her foot on the floor like a toddler. You and Robin are grabbing your stuffs to leave the room when Isuka’s annoying voice fills up the space. “Mrs. Kenet, (Y/N) is wearing again unappropriated stockings to school.” Isuka points her finger at you. Mrs. Kenet’s voice echoes through the room as she calls out your name.

“Miss (Y/L/N), how many times you must be told that these revealing cloths are prohibited in school.” Her whole face frowns and gets red from anger. “Don’t you have any dignity for yourself, after all this is a prestige school not some strip club.” She screams in your face. You glance at Isuka who is passing by you with her entourage while giving you dirty looks. “Listen, when I’m talking to you Miss (Y/L/N).”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kenet, but in my defense, they are quite high and not revealing.” It is pointless to even try to defend yourself, as Mrs. Kenet won’t take your word for anything as she doesn’t like you in general; not only because you never listen and continue to wear your high knee stockings but because you always have something to say in your defense.

“I think you are begging for detention from the first day Miss (Y/L/N).” You are about to protest against her words when you feel Robin tugging you on the arm. Turning your head to her you see the way she is begging you to not get in trouble from the first day, so you just sigh. Lowering your head you murmured under your breath an apology. “I didn’t hear you Miss.”

“I said, I’m sorry and that I will go and change my stockings.”

“If I see you around the corridors today and you are still with these you will be staying after classes, you understand.” Her voice was stern and cold as aways.

“Yes, Mrs. Kenet I understand.” You reply and she lets you and Robin finally go as the bell for your next class rings. Walking as fast as possible, so you are not late for your next class, you are fuming. “This bitch Isuka if she didn’t say shit the old hag wasn’t going to notice anything.”

“I know, but also aren’t you tired of getting detentions for the same thing over and over again?” Robin is keeping your tempo as the biology classroom is on the other wing of the big school building so you two must cross almost half the school to reach it.

“Which side are you on?” You look at her with disbelief even though you know she has a point.

“Of course, yours. But getting detention every time about the same thing should ring some bell in your mind.” She giggles next to you as you make your way to the classroom. Walking in the room just a second before the second bell goes off to indicate that the class starts, the only desk available for you and Robin to take is the one in the front row. Both of you groan as you hate sitting in the front row, but you have no choice as your teacher walks into class and tells you to sit down. Before you sit down you see Isuka sitting next to the new guy, who seems pretty uninterested in the surroundings around him.

Ace notices you, looking in his direction before you sit down at your desk. He also notices the way your face grimaces when you and your friend realize you have to take the front row desk, but he does understand your reaction as he will never be caught sitting in any other row but the last. Ace is the loner guy in school as he never finds anyone interesting enough to hang around with in school. All the friends he has are either from his basketball club or friends he has from his childhood; with classmates he never gets along with, so after ninth grade he has stopped even trying to befriend anyone from his school. Now on top of it, as an even bigger punishment his mom has made him go to this snobby school, which if it isn’t for his high grades Ace would never have been accepted, especially with his record of bad behavior on school grounds. But they did and now he is stuck here. On top of it the bratty annoying girl sat down with him without even bothering to ask if she could or not. But it doesn’t matter now it is not like he is paying her any attention no matter how hard she tries, all her questions are either met with a hum or a nod from him. She should get the hint.

****

Before you know it the first last day of high school is finished and you and Robin made your way to your car. The weather is still nice and warm outside even with the typical Autum breeze.

“Any plans for tonight?” You ask Robin once you both enter your car. She shakes her head and yawns.

“No, I’m actually extremely tired I just want to go home and sleep until tomorrow morning.” She says while putting on her seatbelt on. You do the same as her before you start the car and drive to her home. “By the way, Isuka wasn’t the only one who noticed you checking out the new guy.” Robin’s playful voice gets you flushing as you try biting on your lips to stop the smile that is slowly growing on your face. “Oh, are you crushing on him?” Her voice rises a bit as she sees how you are trying your best to hide your smile.

“No, no Rob, nothing like this.” You shake your head with your eyes focusing on the road. “He is cute, but crushing is too much, I just saw him today and we haven’t even talked yet.”

“Yes, he is kind of cute.” Robin agrees with you, but you throw her a quick surprised glance.

“Kind of? He is super cute, especially when he put those glasses on.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you have a thing for nerds.” Your friend is quick to tease you.

“I doubt that he is a nerd, an outsider yes, but a nerd no.” You respond while parking in front of Robin’s house, she lives very close to school, so it usually takes no more than fifteen minutes’ drive or even less if there is no traffic.

“How did you come with the conclusion that he is an outsider?” Robin asks with surprise in her eyes as she barely paid any attention to the guy today.

“He didn’t spoke or try to interact with anyone today, and at the same time he didn’t seem to be the shy nervous type, you know?” You tell your observations of the guy to your friend, and she is more than impressed, this is not a typical behavior from you.

“Girl, when did you manage to observe this much of the guy?” Robin turns on her seat and waits for your response as she can’t believe what she is hearing.

“Oh, come on. I’m just very observative.” You try to brush it off, but Robin is not buying it.

“Sure, whatever you say.” She smirks and opens the door hopping off the car. “You know, now I’m quite interested in where this last year of high school will lead us.” Your friend raises playfully her eyebrows, and you laugh at her.

“Robin, I said he is cute, not that I’m interested in him.”

“Yet. Plus, I didn’t say anything about the guy, but you just did.” She winks at you as she closes the door without giving you the chance to response.

********

“Ma, I’m home.” Ace screams once he enters his home. Taking his shoes and jacket off he walks into the new apartment his mom rented when they moved to the new city. Ace hasn’t gotten used to the place yet, but it was because of him and his behavior as to why they had to move in first place.

“I’m in the kitchen, honey.” His mom calls for him from the kitchen which is also where they are having their dining aera as well. Entering the room Ace spots his mother next to the kitchen counter chopping some vegetables as something is boiling in the pot on the stove. When she sees her son entering the room her smile grows. “How was the first day? Please tell me you made some friends.” She looks at her son with pleading eyes as she knows how close off Ace likes to be and how he barely let anyone get close to him. “Also -” She points with the knife in her hands towards her cheek, indicating to her son to give her a kiss. Ace rolls his eyes but gives his mom a little peck on the cheek. “Now tell me about school.” His mom, Rouge encourages him. She is one of those people who is always with a smile on their face, her whole existence is screaming warmth and calmness. But this smile can easily go away the moment she enters ‘mama bear’ mode or when Ace really… really pisses her of which in the past two years since his father died, he has been doing more frequently than he intended to.

Taking a seat in one of the highchairs on the other side of the kitchen counter Ace just grunts with a shrug of his shoulders. Nothing interesting happened today. All he wants is for these nine months to go by as quickly as possible. Rouge snaps her fingers in front of her son’s face taking him out of his trance.  

“Nothing interesting mom. School, what else to say.” He grabs one of the uncut chili peppers and takes a bite of it.

“Oh, Ace. Come on, it’s a new school. Did you not meet anyone interesting? How are the teachers? Something.” His mom nags him. Sometimes she misses her son’s bright side. Not like Ace was very open with people when his dad was alive, but he was always energetic around his parents. Rouge knows how much his dad’s death affects her son, but she prays every day and night for the day when her boy will be back to his old bubbly self at least around her and his closes friends and family. Nowadays the best she is getting is five to six sentences from him and the rest is grunts and hums.

“Well, there is this old hag literature teacher that is pain in the ass, but other than this nothing, mom.” He grabs another chili pepper as they are his favorite. “What are you making tonight?”

“Chili beans and ground beef. And before you say anything I did buy with only ten percent fat, okay. I don’t want another lecture on proteins and fats.” She points with the knife in her hand at him warningly and jokingly. Ace snots out a laugh and shakes his head, reaching for another chili pepper but his mom slaps his hand away. “Stop, there will be nothing left if you continue eating them like apples. Now, tell me more about school, come on. Okay one bad teacher, you will survive her. How about the classmates?” She asks as she takes the cutting board with the veggies and walks to the stove where the pot is, adding them to it. Ace starts playing with his fingers as he props his elbows on the counter and thinks for a second about his classmates. The guys are mostly rich spoiled brats, and the girls are no different. Well, one catches his interest, but he doesn’t plan to share this part with his mom at all.

“Rich spoiled kids, ma. Is there anything more to be said?” He raises his brow at his mom who rolls her eyes at him.

“Stop acting like you are some poor ghetto guy.” Her late husband has made sure that there is enough for both her and their son to have a good and stable future before he passes away. They aren’t the richest out there, but with what Roger has left, just her job alone covers all their bills and needs, so all the money will go for Ace’s education in university.

“I’m not mom. I’m just stating the facts.” Seeing that his mom is in a good mood Ace decides to test his luck. “By the way… it would be very nice if I can have my car keys back… you know as it would be way easier to go to school.” His mom’s laughter fills up the space once she hears her son’s lame attempt to get his car back. After getting expelled from his old high school, Rouge has taken away his car keys as she knew that this would make her son behave at least until he gets them back.

“I told you, depends how you behave you might have them back in six months.” She leans with her hands on the countertop and smiles at her son. As much as he looks like her, he has his dad’s dark eyes and hair which make him the perfect mixture of them both. “But good try Ace, you still have like what four or three months left… if you behave.” Rouge reaches with her hand and ruffles Ace’s dark messy curls. Ace pulls his head away from his mother’s hand and gets up from the chair.

“When is this going to be done?” He points with his eyes towards the pot on the stove.

“Max an hour, I think.” The only response Rouge receives is a grunt from her son before he makes his way to his room. “Oh, Ace… what am I going to do with you?” It pains her heart to see him like this, but his destructive behavior needs to get under control.

Rogue still remembers the phone call from the police station she received one Tuesday afternoon. Not only had her son got into another fight on the school property but on top of it he had broken some classmate of his arm. But that wasn’t the reason Ace was locked up by the police. He was also high on weed at school, and when someone from his class called the police on him, they found two blunts in his wallet, so he got cuffed immediately. On top of it, the family of the kid wanted to start a case against Ace, but with a lot of pleading from Rouge side, she managed to convinced them not to open the case. Instead, Rouge paid for the kid’s expenses during his recovery. And with a lot of connections and Roger’s best friend, Reyleigh – Rogue succeeded to safe her son’s criminal and school record, but she wasn’t planning on letting him go easy from this situation.

The whole summer Ace was working on two jobs so he could pay back his mom’s expenses on lawyers, the medical bills on the guy’s arm he broke, and he had to go to evening classes every Monday and Thursday so he could graduate eleventh grade. Not only this, but every month since then, Rouge has been making Ace take a drug test. If she finds out one more time that he is taking anything drug related he will be out of the house even if it would hurt her more than him. She doesn’t want to see her son destroying his future.

Entering his room and closing the door behind him Ace starts to take off the annoying school uniform. Changing to more comfortable clothes he lays on his bed and just stares at the ceiling. He misses his old town and friends. Even there he hasn’t been the most social person, especially in school, but still he had his friends, while here he has none. He has his mom, but it is not the same. And this new pretentious school is killing him, and it only has been a day since he has started. But he will have to push it through, after all he doesn’t want to see his mom’s disappointed face ever again. He might be everything else, but Ace isn’t stupid, he knows that his behavior is not only hurting him but his mother too. Because of this he must fix his ways of living not only for his sake, but also for the sake of the people who care for him.

Without realizing it, his mind drifts to you – the girl with the white knee length stockings. He can’t deny that he finds you attractive, but he isn’t planning on messing around with any girls any time soon and especially one from his class. You are some kind of a rebel because all day he hasn’t seen another girl with knee stockings like yours, all the other girls are wearing normal ones that cover every inch of their legs. It is either this or you are desperate for male attention, but something is telling him that you aren’t the type to care who gives you attention and who doesn’t. But his first impression of you is clear – ‘troublemaker’ and he doesn’t need troubles right now.

After some time scrolling on his phone Ace hears his mom calling from the kitchen. He gets up and goes to see what the fuzz is about.

“What, ma?” He asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Please, put the plates on the table. The meal is done, it just needs to chill down a bit and I need to make a phone call.” She washes her hands and dries them on the towel hung on the kitchen cabinet under the sink. Ace just nods and starts preparing the table for him and his mom.

********

It has been almost two months since school has started again and it is killing you. All you want is to be done with this particular school, but just seven more months left. The subjects feel harder this year than the last and you usually don’t have any problem studying but this year is taking a tool on you, and you have barely started. Walking into biology class early in the morning knowing that Robin is sick at home today isn’t very pleasant. She always lets you know earlier when she is not coming to school due to sickness or whatever reason as she knows how much you hate being in classes without her. But today you decide to go anyway, as you have biology, literature and PE, which means you are having three classes with Ace, which means that today might not be so bad even without Robin next to you.

Your little attraction from day one turned into full crush almost a month ago. Which is funny because you and Ace have never spoken, but you can’t help but feel attracted to him. To be honest, Ace doesn’t speak with anyone, his voice can only be heard if the teachers ask him something or if they have something to tell him about the way his uniform is not worn right. The only thing that you are aware of so far that you have in common with him.

Walking into the room most of your classmates are already there. Scanning the room your eyes land on Ace. As always, he has his headphones on while having his hands on the desk, with one elbow raise and his head prop on the palm of his hand. Taking a deep breath in you start walking towards the desk in the middle of the middle row and sit there. With Robin being gone for the day, you are going to be sitting alone so you put your bag on the chair next to you. Taking your notebook and pen out you start fidgeting with the pen between your fingers waiting for your teacher to come.

Slightly turning your head to the side, you glance at Ace. His messy hair falling freely around his face as always and his glasses already placed on his face, he looks adorable. Yes, your crush so far is based only on his lucks, but the rare times you have heard him talk, he is smart and yes, he is also cocky, but not like the rest of the boys in your class. There is some kind of a charm in his cockiness. Just before he turns his head in your direction you look away quickly.

His lips twitch for a second as he has caught you staring at him again. Ace is used at this point with your staring. It even starts making him wonder if you have a crush on him or something. You are not very easy to read so Ace isn’t sure a hundred percent if he is right about it or not. Slowly he runs his eyes down on your body and licks his lower lip. You are quite bold today, not only are you with knee-length stockings again, but on top of it they are dark red mesh material, so he is able to take a very good look at your legs. Are you aware of what these things are doing to still teenage boys… to him?

Just when his imagination is about to start working on the things he wants to do in between your thighs while you wear these red stockings, he hears the most annoying voice to exist, even over his headphones being on max volume.

“Morning Ace, it’s always so nice to spend biology with you.” Isuka’s voice rings in his ear as annoying as his first alarm in the morning. Ace doesn’t even bother to look at her. Since the first day at school, she has been sitting with him every biology class. He has tried many things: putting his bag on the chair where she is supposed to sit hoping she gets the hint that she isn’t welcome sitting with him, then sitting at another desk just so leaves him alone but still no success. One time he made sure to be the first one in class just so he could hide the fucking chair but sadly someone got sick that day, so she sat with him again. Thankfully it is only biology he has to sit with her. The teacher finally walks in, and the class is starting so Ace takes off his headphones and puts them back in his backpack.

“Students.” Mr. Bellman clapped with his hands as a warm smile is placed on his face as aways. He is one of the few, to not say only teacher in this school that is actually nice and understanding towards his students. “Before the Christmas break next month you all will be divided into pairs and do a project together.”

“Are we paired with whoever we want or you are going to pair us?” Ask a classmate of yours.

“Thank you for the question, Mr. Dawson. In fact, I have written all your names on a piece of paper and put them in a bowl.” He pulls out two glass bowls filled with small pieces of paper. “Those of you sitting on the left will be the one picking a note with the names of your partner and on those of you sitting on the right will be picking from the bowl with the topic of your projects.” After he explains you groan and quickly move to sit on the left side. You don’t care what topic you will get if you will be lucky enough to get Robin’s name out of the bowl. “Everyone understands? Okay, perfect. I will come to you now first with the names.”

Your turn finally comes, and Robin’s name hasn’t been picked yet so hopefully you will get her. With a warm smile Mr. Bellman encourages you to pick a piece of paper, and you do. You start laughing as you unwrap it and see your own name written on it.

“Well, Mr. Bellman I guess I’m either doing it by myself or I can choose with whom to work with.” You joke with him to which he laughs but shakes his head.

“I know you are hoping to pick Miss Nico as your partner Miss (Y/L/N), but with risk for you to hate me, please take another note.” You click with your tongue when your teacher tells you this. Mr. Bellman has gotten to know you very well over the span of the four years he has been your teacher, and he knows that you and Robin always go as a pair. Putting your hand once again in the bowl you drag another piece of paper. Unwrapping the small piece of paper your heart skips a beat once you read the name. “Mr. Portgas D Ace, how nice.” The teacher announces loudly as he looks at Ace’s direction.

Hearing his name being called Ace raises his head from his notebook. He looks at where Mr. Bellman is standing, and he is right next to you. ‘Nice’ Ace thinks to himself. You aren’t a bad option for a project partner especially when it comes to biology, you are pretty good from what Ace has seen of you so far in class. He only nods with his head as the teacher wrote you down as partners.

You on the other hand don’t know how to process the fact that you will be working with Ace for the next one month. You know he is smart and surprisingly he is one of the top students in class, but even if he isn’t the smartest it wouldn’t have mattered as this isn’t why you are concerned. It is the fact that you have a stupid little crush on him and spending time with him outside school might cause your stupid little crush to grow. Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Bellman’s voice.

“Okay, everyone has a partner, right? Now is time to pick your topics, now remember those on the right are picking them.”

Going around the room again Mr. Bellman skips you this time as it is Ace turn to pick your topic as he is sitting on the right side of the desk. Reaching with his hand Ace picks a piece of paper and unwraps it. Clearing his throat before he speaks, he looks at you.

“Causes of Narcolepsy and Insomnia.” He says with his deep raspy voice. In response you nod as you have turned to face him when he was picking it. Turning back around you write it down on your notebook, so you don’t forget. Before you have turned around you see the nasty look Isuka is giving you, but you pay her no attention. You are aware of her own crush for Ace, but it is obvious that it isn’t mutual.

After everyone get their topics, Mr. Bellman starts to explain how the project can be made and as long as it is submitted by the second week of December it should be fine for everyone. The class finishes on time and everyone starts to gather their stuffs. It takes you a moment to start putting your stuffs back as now you must speak to Ace no matter what. But by the time you turn around to see if he is still in the classroom he is nowhere to be found. With a sigh you get up and start making your way to your locker to grab your physics textbook and then make your way to the classroom. You won’t be seeing Ace until after lunch when you have your literature class and then PE, which means you have enough time to think of how to approach him. Or he might approach you, after all it is not only your project.

****

Lunch break comes and you made your way fast to your locker again. Deciding to skip on lunch today you grab your literature books and head straight to the classroom. You are the first one there as everyone is out for lunch now. Taking your usual seat in the middle row you pull out your phone and start texting Robin.

‘Rob.... I have a good and bad news...’

‘If it is about the biology project I already know as Nora has already texted me about it... so I suppose this is the bad news... now tell me the good’ She is quick with her reply. Not only this but you just realise that you have totally forgotten to pay attention to who got Robin’s name. Poor Robin, she must work with one of Isuka’s annoying friends for the project.

‘Girl I’m so sorry... yeah about the good news... guess who is my project partner :3’

‘No way :O ... is it Portgas?’ Of course, Robin gets it right from the first guess. You happily squeak and tap with your feet excitedly on the floor.

‘YES ROB IT IS HIM IN FACT CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?’

‘If I knew that the only day of me missing school would lead to this I would have gotten sick earlier xD have you two spoken about it?’

‘Not yet, but I have the next two classes with him as you know... so I plan to speak with him about it.’ You have already come with a plan, and it is super simple – he walks into the room, sits on his desk and you go speak with him, how hard it would be?

Well, it appears to be harder than you have expectedas he is late for class, but he comes eventually. After being scold from Mrs. Kenets he goes and sit on his usual spot – the last desk next to the window. After the class is done you miss your chance again as he is the first one to leave. But it is okay, you still have PE together you can speak with him then.

You aren’t very surprised when you can’t catch him to speak with during PE, too. It is the only class where he kind of interacts with people and it is the guys who he interacts with only when they play basketball. He plays very well, you have observed him many times, but you are not surprised after all he is tall, and he obviously works out, so this only adds to his looks. You even have a theory that he might be practicing basketball outside school, but you are not a hundred percent sure about this. You on the other hand try to join the girls and some of the guys who are playing volleyball, but it gets boring quickly.

Now you are just sitting on the benches, with your elbows on your knees and your head prop the palms of your hands, observing Ace and waiting for the perfect moment to speak with him about your project.

“Staring to much aren’t we?” Taking a deep breath in, you side-glanced the person who just sits next to you.

“What do you want Isuka?” You turn your head to the side to look at her with blank stare.

“I want to change partners for the project.” She crosses her arms across her chest and her tone from mocking turns to demanding. A makeshift puff of laugher escapes your lips as you look at her in disbelief.

“You heard Mr. Bellman we can’t do this, and I won’t do this for you especially.” It is not because Ace is your project partner, it actually doesn’t matter who it would have been, you will never do a favour for Isuka. Ever.

“You can have your friend Robin, and I get Ace what a better deal than this?” She continues to nag.

 “You are not even the one paired with her, the fuck is you on about? And I told you I’m not changing partners for your pleasure especially.” You turn your head back to where the boys are playing basketball.

“Look at me when I speak to you.” Isuka hisses and pulls you by the hand causing you to look at her.

“Touch me one more time and I will sweep the floor with your hair.” You snap at her as you stand up. Verbally she can say whatever you never really care, but this right now is crossing any lines.

“Calm down loser you don’t want to get in trouble.” She also gets up and now you are on the same level facing each other. “Ace also wants to change so we can be together.”

“Do you even believe yourself when you said this out loud?” You snort and turn around to walk away. You can hear Isuka walking after you, but you chose to ignore her.

Passing by the guys playing basketball you don’t see Isuka going to one of them – Jack, the popular rich and extremely arrogant jerk in school. She whispers something in his ear and his arrogant laugher fills up the space. The guys have stopped the game as he is the one holding the ball and waiting for him to get back to it. Ace is standing with arms crossed across his chest while carefully observing the scene just a few steps away from them.

He saw you passing by a little annoyed by Isuka, who was following after you. Her bullying, if he can call it this, towards you haven’t been unnoticed by him, but it is always her put back on her place by you. Maybe this is the case again. But it isn’t. Just as Jack is raising his hand ready to aim at you, with his arrogant smile on while his face is turned to Isuka’s, it takes Ace three stapes to get to Jack and take the ball away from his hands.

“The fuck man?” Jack turns to him with disbelief in his eyes. “I was just about to have some fun.” He came closer to Ace bumping his chest with his, to which Ace snorts as he puts the ball between them keeping Jack’s body away from his. They are almost the same high, but Ace is still slightly taller than him.

“Since when hitting girls is considered fun Jack?” Ace raises one brow at him waiting for his response.

“Didn’t know you can talk this much Portgas?” Jack mockingly says to which Ace only replies with an arrogant smirk. After all Jack isn’t the only one who thinks he can act all cocky and mighty.

“I usually don’t waste my time speaking with people like you.” This struck a nerve in Jack as he hears Ace says this and goes to pinch him, but Ace is quick to dodge it. The teacher is quick to see what is going on and runs to the boys screaming at them. Taking a step back Ace laughs at Jack’s face. “Try faster next time, Jack.” With that he ignores the teacher who is trying to scold the boys but none of them is listening to them. Before heading to the changing rooms Ace gives Isuka a disgraceful look. It is clear to Ace that she has talked Jack into doing this, which is very low even for her.

You on the other hand have missed the entire show. Now as you have changed back to your school uniform and adjusting the straps holding your red stockings you curse yourself as you accidently made a hole on the side of the left stocking. Remembering that you have a clear nail polish in your locker you grab your bag and leave the changing rooms.

Standing in front of your locker and opening it you also put back some of the notebooks and textbooks you are carrying with yourself during the day. Most of the students are already leaving as the last bell of the day has rung like five minutes ago. As you are about to close your locker you haven’t paid attention to your surrounding, someone has leaned on by the lockers next to you, so when you hear their voice, you get startled.

“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. (Y/N), right?” Turning around you are met with no other but Ace. With your eyes widen you swallow hard as you nod. “So, we are project partners now.” He says and you nod again.

“Uh, yeah. Actually, I was trying to get a hold of you the whole day.” You chuckle and try to straiten your posture. You open and close your mouth as you aren’t sure exactly what to say and Ace isn’t very helpful as he doesn’t say much himself. “Like... you know... I was wondering things like when should we start, where should we meet... you know ha-ha... project things.” You grab on your left elbow with your right hand as you try very hard to hide the fact how nervous you are around him.

Putting his hands in his pockets Ace can see how nervous you got out of nowhere. He swears this isn’t the same confident girl he has observed around school. But then again, he has seen you only with your black-haired friend which he always forgets the name of. Maybe you are only confident and bubbly only around people you know and that is why you only hang up with her.

“Which day after school works with you? The sooner we start the better.” Ace says and you nod agreeing with him.

“Any day works with me honestly.” You give him a small smile and wait for his response as he seems to think about when it will be best for him.

“How about Friday?”

“Sure, Friday works fine with me as well. Should we go to the library?”

“Yea, the library is fine. Then see you on Friday.” With this he pushes himself of the lockers and walks away. He isn’t arrogant, but he isn’t very friendly as well, so you are starting to worry how smoothly this project will go. But now that you have seen him up so close, you are totally sweep off your feet. This boy is unbelievably handsome.

‘Please, don’t have a girlfriend.’ You think to yourself, a thought that has crossed your mind million of times now. You have tried everything, but you can’t find him on any social media and as he doesn’t speak to anyone in school you have no idea if Ace is single or not. All you can do is prey that he is single, because boy your heart will be broken if he is taken and extremely jealous of his girlfriend.

*****

Friday comes fast and before you know it you are done with your classes for the day. You will be lying if you say that you are not nervous and excited at the same time now that you are about to spend the next few hours working with Ace on the project. On the other hand, Robin hasn’t stopped messing with you today as you have put extra effort in the way you look today. With your makeup and hair done nicely and your uniform being precisely ironed like never before, paired with dark blue knee stockings matching your uniform you looked gorgeous today. Even Robin herself commented how you will make him crush on you a hundred percent after your study session.

“Okay, how do I look? How do I smell?” You have dragged your best friend in the bathroom with you as you want to make sure that you are a hundred percent looking your best.

“Oh my God, (Y/N). Calm down, he is just a guy.” Robin is still in disbelief in the way you are acting when it comes to Ace. Sure, he is cute, even if he isn’t her type she doesn’t deny that the guy is good looking, but you have never been like this over a guy before.

“I know, I know.” You say in a desperate tone. Yes, you are super attracted to him and his looks but expect from this you don’t know anything about him, and you are hoping that with this project you will be able to get to know him. “I... I just want to... how to say it Rob... if he finds me somehow attractive then, of course only if he is single, maybe he might be up for a date or something.” Lowering your head and looking at your sneakers you feel Robin wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a hug.

“(Y/N), if this guy is not on his knees for you after today, then he needs to change his glasses.” You both laugh as you pull away from the hug. “Okay now show me which lip glosses you have taken with you?” You eagerly pull out the two lip glosses you have taken with you in the morning as you can’t decide which one will look better. Taking a good look at them, Robin points with her finger to the cherry coloured one. “I think this will make your lips pop more.”

“Thank you. I was also thinking of the cherry one.” You put the other one back in your bag and start applying the cherry one on your lips. Smacking your lips once you are done you turn to Robin. “What do you think?”

“I think that I’m jealous of Portgas.” Hearing her comment you burst of laughing.

 “Uh, I love you, Robin. You are the best friend I could have ever ask for.” You pull her for another hug, but she taps you on the shoulders to let go.

“Come on, he is probably waiting for you. And don’t forget to call me once you are done.”

****

Ace has been sitting on one of the old desks in the library for the past fifteen minutes now. He should have asked for your number. What if you can’t make it today? He has seen you around school earlier today, but still. Or what if you are here but can’t find him? He is definitely getting your number today. Not for any other reason, just so he can have some kind of contact with you while you do the project together.

“Hey, sorry for being late.” His eyes immediately shot at you as you stand on the side of the desk next to him. You smile at him as you pull the chair to sit. “Don’t tell me you have been waiting for me for a long time?” Your eyes are filled with guild and Ace is just staring.

‘Shit, she looks even prettier today.’ He can’t help but think to himself. Ace can’t deny that he has found you attractive since day one, but he hasn’t been in a relationship ever. Which is strange that the thoughts of relationship are crossing his mind since he doesn’t want one. He does have his fair share with girls from time to time but nothing more. Not only this but whatever you have put on your lips today are making them even more plump and desirable. If he can just pull you closer and kiss you right now he would. Calling him out by his name you take him out of his trance.

“Sorry? What were you saying?” He clears his throat as his voice comes out a little bit raspier then usual.

“I asked if you waited for me for too long?” You let a small giggle at his confused expression. To your surprise Ace let out a little chuckle himself. This is the first time ever you hear any form of laugher from him and you swear something bloomed in your stomach.

“Nah, I didn’t. Actually, you need to give me your number, so we have some kind of communication through out the project.” Your eagerly nod as you see him pulling his phone and handing it to you so you can put your number in. You quickly type it with your name as well and give back the phone to him. “Nice, thanks.” He says and puts the phone back in his back pocket.

“How do we start now? I see you have taken some books already.” You reach and take one of the books and observe it. It is about neurobiology, which your topic for ‘Causes of Narcolepsy and Insomnia’ is based on.

“Yea, well we can do bigger research on insomnia as I have a narcolepsy myself so you can leave all that part to me.” He runs his hand on the nape of his neck a little uncomfortable.

“Oh, no please. I want the work to be equal for both of us.” You are quick to protest and surprise to hear that he has narcolepsy himself, he hasn’t showed any signs in school, but again from sharing just three classes together you don’t know much about him. “Also, I didn’t know you have narcolepsy. I know it is not easy living with one as my little cousin also has it.” You smile at him as you understand a bit how he must feel dealing with this on the daily basis.

Raising his brows in surprise as he hasn’t met anyone so far in his life who has it or have a person close to them struggling with it, Ace is a little taken aback and not sure how to response to this.

“Ya, it does sucks sometimes.” Is all he manages to response with. “In that case should we get to work?” With a nod from you, you both start to discuss how you can manage your project and the topics for it.

Time goes by fast and before you know it, it has already been two hours. During those two hours it is mostly you who breaks the silence with suggesting ideas or double checking with him if you should include a certain information in. Deciding to take a quick break from gathering information and writing it down, you decide to be bold and ask him more personal questions in the meantime, if you can call them this, so you can get to know him a little.

“So, um Ace...” You start unsure if he wants to talk or not, but when he hums and looks at you in response so you take this as a yes – he might be up for a small talk after all. “What made you choose this school?”

Unsure how to response to this question without mentioning that he has been expelled from his previous high school he gives you the most logical answer ever.

“My mom, you?” Short and clear as ever, but at least he asks you as well.

“My parents.” You roll your eyes, if it isn’t for them you would want to attend another not so strict and pretensions school.

“Why the eyeroll?” He takes his glasses of and puts them on the side. The switch in his charm with and without them is indescribable – with them on he gives this persona of a little introvert and unbothered guy, who is also extremely adorable; without them he gives and has the vide of the cocky cool guy with a bad boy vibe who with just one look will get you on your knees. Shaking you head of you try to focus yourself back into the small conversation.

“I don’t know if you have noticed but this school is quite pretentious.” You whisper like there are many people around you, moving your eyes side to side pointing out your surroundings. A puff of makeshift laugher escapes Ace’s lips as he nods his head.

“Yea, same. Can’t stand this place and its rules.” He leans on the back of the chair and loosen up the tie around his neck.

“Tell me about it, I already had three detentions.” You huff. Rasing one of his brows questionably to why and how you have gotten detention, three times on top of it. Even he hasn’t gotten one, yet. “Because of the stockings.” You scrunch your face with a smile and Ace chuckles at you.

“Why don’t you just wear the same ones as the other girls?” No matter how cool Ace wants to play it, this question has been on his mind for a long time. It is only you in the whole school who allows herself to wear something that is considered inappropriate.

“I really hate stockings, I don’t even like these ones, but God I would rather get detention than getting to the principal’s office ever again.” Your whole body shivers from the memories of it.

“What they send you to the principal just because of some socks?” Ace snort, he can’t believe how ridicules this school’s rules are.

“No, I was sent to him because I came to school without any – just me and my bare legs, and in my defence, it was the end of May and outside was almost thirty degrees.”  

“Oh, fuck this school.” Ace laughs in disbelief as he runs both of his hands through his hair messing it even more.

“There is more to the story.” You say and he looks at you like you are kidding. “Don’t look at me like this, I’m not joking. They called my parents and bear with me now – they had to listen to the principle going on and on about how unappropriated their daughter behaviour is because of this, and how she is promoting sexual behaviour in the school’s property dressed like that.”

“What a troublemaker you are (Y/N).” Ace clicks with his tongue as he laughs once he hears your story.

“The biggest one, don’t forget.” You point with your finger at him correcting his mistake as he raises his hands in the air like you have pointed a gun at him.

“How did your parents react?”

“They are super cool. I wasn’t grounded or anything like it, but they begged me only to never come to school again with bare legs.” Both of you share a light laughter before silence takes over you. “Should we continue?” You are the one to break it once again.

“Nah, I think we did enough for today. What are your plans next Wednesday after school, we can meet again?” Your eyes widen from excitement as you eagerly, too eagerly for your liking nod your head. “Cool, then until next Wednesday.” He says as he gets up and takes his stuff. “Troublemaker.” He chuckles at you over his shoulders and leaves.

****

Wednesday turns to next Friday, and next Friday turns to see you again on Monday and for the next three weeks you and Ace are meeting at least two times per week to work on your project even thought you do twenty percent working and the rest is you two talking and getting to know each other. To your surprise Ace is quite talkative when he wants to be. The more time you two spend together the more you get to know him, and the more is your crush on him growing.

One time you gain the courage and very subtilty you asked if he has a girlfriend to which he answered no, and you felt like all the powers, gods and goddesses, whatever is out there was with you that day. Not only that he is handsome with amazing personality, but he is also single. The two things you must be careful about now are: one trying to not get in the friendzone and two if he likes you – you don’t want it to be just sex, you want it to be more than this.

During school, every time you bump at each other in the hallways you are always greeting him, and he always nods at you or mumbles hello back. Of course, this got you a few unpleasant stares from a few girls around school. One time at literature class when he was the one to stop by your desk and talk with you, you noticed Isuka choking on her water and if it was possible in real life, she was going to have steam of smoke coming out of her ears out of jealousy.

The only sad part of it all is that you two are pretty much done with your project, only a few more details are left but it won’t take you more than two hours to finish it. As you are laying on your bed with your notebooks spread across on it, your phone vibrates. You grab it and your eyes sparkle with excitement once you see who the message is from.

‘Tomorrow same place at the same time?’

‘Of course ^.^’

Not wasting even a second later you dial Robins number. The moment she does you are quick to speak.

“Should I tell him that I like him?” You blurt out.

“If you feel like it – yes.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me back? That way things will be awkward till the rest of the year, and I don’t want it to be this way.” You bite on the cuticle of your nails as you stand up from your bed and start to walk back and forth in your room.

“I think he does.” Robin says with a reassuring voice over the phone.

“I think you are feeding my delusions.”

“Girl, calm down. From what you’ve told me and I’ve seen from you interacting I think he might be into you as well, plus you’ve said he that he is a pretty chill guy, so even if he doesn’t, I’m sure that it won’t be very awkward after it.” She starts to laugh as she can only imagine you going around in a circle around your room, and she isn’t wrong.

“You are right, after all the worst he can say is what? That he is not into me and… and…” Your mind goes spiraling with thoughts of what could be the worst thing Ace might say to cut you off.

“And the world will keep spinning now calm down and worry tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, you are right. See you tomorrow, Rob.”

“See you tomorrow… troublemaker.” She laughs and cuts the line immediately knowing how to tease you. You have mentioned to her how from time-to-time Ace calls you ‘troublemaker’.  Falling on your back on your bed you just stare at the ceiling – what is the worst that can happen tomorrow?

****

Walking home after his basketball practice, Ace can’t help but think of you. In the past three weeks you two have been talking a lot. He enjoys it more than he wants to admit to himself. On top of it, your beauty is like a bonus to your personality – not only you are smart and funny, but you are also mischievous and spontaneous. And he likes this about you a lot. You are the type of person who is down for anything, especially judging by the stories you have told him about yourself. You are also quite charming and cute when you have this sparkle of mischief in your eyes. Yes, you are a troublemaker, but not the type who looks for troubles on purpose, it is more like a rebellious troublemaker. You will stand behind your words and believes no matter what and not only does he finds this extremely attractive but he also respects it.

Unlocking the front door of his home and walking in he is greeted by the voice of his mom. Entering the living room, he sees her sitting on the couch drinking tea, as her long ginger hair is falling freely on her back and shoulders.

“How was practice, honey?” She asks with a big smile on her face as she takes a sip of her tea and then place it on the coffee table.

“Ma, stop calling me pet names like this.” He grunts as he takes a seat on the couch next to her with one arm prop at the back of the sofa. “And it went good and very, very tiring. We ran a lot today.” Ace tells her as he is stretching his legs with a hiss from the soreness.

“I can definitely smell this.” She replies sarcastically as she punches her nose and waves her hand at her face messing around with her son.

“Oh, shut up mom. I showered there and I will go shower again in a minute.” Ace laughs and moves closer to her as he raises his hands in the air making his mom fake a gag from her son’s sweat.

“You are the same pain in the ass as your dad.” She raises her voice acting like she is irritated but in fact she is not, she is having quite the fun with her son right now. Poking him on the sides where she knows that he is ticklish, she laughs when he groans and gets up from the couch.

“Well, I don’t come from the neighbor. You choose my dad not me.” He jokes with her as he reaches and takes her tea mug and chugs it down.

“Did you just drink all my tea?” Rouge’s eyes widen as she sees the smug smirk placed on her son’s face.

“Your stinky son is thirsty, sorry ma.” Ace lets out a boyish laugh as she reaches to playfully smack his forearm but misses. Grabbing his gym back from the floor he makes his way to the bathroom but before this he stops at the door and looks at his mom. “Mom, do I really stink?”

“No, Ace you don’t. I’m just messing with you.” She looks at her son lovingly as he nods his head. Sometimes he is such a dork, especially recently. But Rouge doesn’t mind it. In the past almost two weeks and so her son is somehow more talkative, more open. Something he hasn’t been in a long time, and something is telling Rouge that there is a girl involved in this, and she can’t wait to tease her son about it, but not now. For now, she is just enjoying having a little bit of her son’s old self back. But once she has the opportunity, she will definitely tease him about it, especially after he has mentioned briefly that he is doing a project for biology class with a girl and Ace never talks about girls of any kind with his mom.

After taking a shower and going to his room Ace grabs his phone as he sits on his bed and texts you. Tomorrow you are finishing your project and as much as he wants to be done with it, he is not that excited to be done with your little meetings after school. But you might continue to spend time with each other from time to time, after all you have a few shared classes together.

His thoughts are interrupted by his phone vibrating with a message from you as a little smile twitch on his lips. Laying on his bare back on the bed he looks up at the ceiling with thoughts filled with you. Maybe he does have a little crush on you, but this is not what he needs right now. After all you are a troublemaker, and it seems like troubles love to follow him.

****

Walking into school Ace feels a little weird today as a lot of people are staring weirdly at him. Usually, he doesn’t pay attention to people staring at him, but it is something in their eyes that it is like a judgment. He makes his way into the school sport hall as his first class for the day is PE. Leaving his gym bag in one of the lockers in the changing room as he came to school with his gym clothes, Ace made his way to the sport field. Entering the closed space field, he notices everyone staring and whispering in his direction. ‘What the fuck?’ he thinks to himself.

“Portgas.” He hears his name being called by no one but Jack himself. “Do you carry a blunt or two with yourself or we should call the police in case you lie.” Jack screams across the field and everyone laughs.

You and Robin have just entered the sport hall from the back entrance and are still dressed in your uniforms as you have some time before the class starts to change to your gym clothes. What confuses you both is seeing everyone laughing.

“Hey, Vanessa.” You call one of the girls with whom you speak from time to time in class. “Why is everyone laughing.”

“Oh my God, girls you must see this.” She says and pulls her phone up playing a video. The video is of a guy who is being held by the police as he is curing loudly and fighting them as they try to cuff him. “Jack sent this to the entire class, and well half of the school as well.”

“(Y/N) is this Ace?” Robin looks at you with frown brows. You are about to call her out but then you see the face of the guy, it is Ace. What is going on? Looking up from the phone screen you see Ace and the rest of the class laughing at him. Without giving it a second thought you run to him. You hear Robin calling after you, but you pay her no mind.

“Ace.” You call out once you are close enough to him. He just side glance you and doesn’t say anything. “I… um… there is this video going around… you getting cuffed by the police… are… are you okay Ace?”

“Do you know who spread it?” He asks you in a calm voice. Too calm for your liking.

“Vanessa told me that Jack sent it to half the school.” You quietly reply.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He says without looking at you and starts to make his way towards Jack with his fists clenched. Realizing what he is planning to do you are quick to stand in front of him and stop him by placing your hands on his chest.

“Ace don’t.” You give him a pleading look.

“Yes, Ace don’t. Listen to your little girlfriend.” Jack calls out loudly again but this time with mocking voice of a little girl. Laughter fills again the whole sport hall. Clenching his jaw tight Ace pushes off your hands and starts to make his way towards Jack again but you are not going to let this happen.

“Ace, please listen to me for just a second.” You stand in front of him again.

“Fuck off, (Y/N). This is between me and this motherfucker.” He snaps at you as he moves to the side but so do you as you aren’t letting him take another step.

“I know, but this is what he wants and Ace this won’t end with detention.” You know better than him how this school’s rules work. Especially when it comes to students like Jack with rich parents. Ace is going to be out the second he lays his hands on him. “As much as I want to see Jack’s face being punched, I don’t want you to get kicked out for a such thing.” After saying this Ace finally looks at you. his eyes and his whole face full of rage.

“Damn you (Y/N) and this whole school.” He spats at you before turning back and storming off the sport hall.

“Won’t you run after you boyfriend (Y/N)?” Jack says again with a mocking voice. Turning in his direction you just smile at him and start walking towards him. “You know if your attitude wasn’t so unpleasant you would make a very good girlfriend with a face like yours.” He smirks as you stand in front of him. Smiling at him and before he has the time to react, you spit in his face and walk away to find Ace. “You little bitch. Wait until I catch you.” Jack screams full of rage after you as his buddies gather around him trying to hold him still as he wants to run after you.

“(Y/N) you animal.” Isuka screams after you but you just raise your hand and show her the middle finger. Before you leave the sport hall Robin catches up with you.

“Girl, this will cause you some trouble you know?” She walks along you as you are looking everywhere trying to find Ace.

“I will worry about this later. I need to find Ace.”

“Oh my, you are a lost case. Do you really like him this much? Is he really worth the trouble?” She stops you by holding you by the shoulder and you look at her seriously.

“Yes, Robin. I do like him this much, and he is worth the trouble. Now please let me go so I can look for him.” Inhaling and exhaling deep she lets go of your arm.

“I can help you at least.” She pleads but you shake your head.

“Thank you, but I think it’s better it I do it alone.” Before you run away you look at her. “By the way will you cover for me for the rest of the day?”

“You don’t even need to ask me this.” Shaking her head with a smile she sends you off to look for Ace.

You look everywhere – the school hallways in both wings in all three floors, the cafeteria, the main floor by the entrance and now you are making your way to the library. For the almost four weeks you have spent together and the three months since school started you are a hundred percent sure that whatever the reason behind why he has been arrested isn’t something that will change your opinion about him. You know a little bit more about Ace now and one thing he is not is being a bad person. From what you have seen in the video it had happened in a school property and the best they can arrest you for is if you have been with drugs to school. Ace doesn’t seem like the guy who does hard drugs so you are a hundred percent sure that it might have been for weed. But even if it is for something more serious you don’t care much because you trust your intuition, which tells you that he has a valid reason and explanation to the story behind the video.

As you run towards the library you spot him walking out of the school. The moment you take a step to turn in his direction you feel a drop of rain on your face. ‘Grate now all we need is rain.’ You think to yourself as you fasten your pace to catch up with him.

“Ace, please wait.” You call after him to which he looks over his shoulder with still anger written all over his face.

“Go back to school (Y/N).” His voice is still harsh but not as much as when he has told you to fuck off in the sport hall.

“I can’t go back to school. Please, it’s about to be pouring rain. I-I can drive you home or whenever you are goi-” Ace turns to you with an angry expression – his brows drew together with his jaw clenched. He opens his mouth to say something and in this exact moment rain stars to fall from the sky like crazy. Both of you get soaked in a matter of seconds – him with his long sleeve compress black t-shirt and basketball shorts and you in your now soaked school uniform.

“Go back to school (Y/N) and just continue with your day.” He rolls his eyes and turns around as he starts to walk away from you.

“Ace, I can’t go back to school and continue with my day because... I... well I did something...” This makes Ace stop his track and looks at you. As if he couldn’t look even more hotter than before now with all his clothes soaked from the rain and his black hair wet from it you could faint from the sight of him on the spot.

“What did you do (Y/N)?” His voice got even deeper. Ace is standing and watching you looking at your feet and arms behind your back just like a little kid who has done a mischief and now is guilty about it. Not only this but your white shirt is now stuck to your body from the rain Ace can clearly see the bright red bra under it, which is matching with the stockings you are wearing today, making it very hard for him to focus on just your face alone. Lifting your head and giving him big doe eyes look, with your mascara smudged a bit from the rain, anger isn’t the only thing he is feeling right now.

“I-I spat Jack in the face.” You look away now ashamed of what you have done even if he deserved it.  

“You what?” Ace takes a step towards you. He can’t believe you have done this and the trouble you will get into for it. “Why did you do this?” His mind is running wild. Why would you do such thing? You won’t be getting away with just a detention after school.

“Because he tried to make fun of you.” Wrapping your arms around yourself you tired to shield from the cold rain and his pierced gaze.

“I can stand form myself (Y/N), I don’t need some girl to do it for me. Thank you, now everyone thinks I’m a coward and a pussy on top of it.” Running his hands over his wet locks Ace shuts his eyes and tries to take some deep breaths.

“A-Ace I-I didn’t mean to cause you harm. I-I just... I-I wasn’t thinking... I-”

“Just shut up.” Opening his eyes and seeing how your own eyes are filled with guilt and shame he curses himself. “I’m mad right now, okay? I don’t want to be an ass toward you, but damn it, why you are such a troublemaker all the damn time.” This isn’t a question, this is a statement. Why are you going headfirst aways? Why did you even go to such extreme just because some asshole tied to get on his nerves. Seeing how you are shivering from the cold Ace exhales deeply and grabs you by the arm firmly but also gentle at the same time. “Where is your car?” He asks you as you start walking towards the parking lot.

“There is the little red one.” You point with your finger towards the small Toyota Aygo parked in the middle of the parking.

“What is with your obsession with the red colour?” Ace huffs as you reach your car and waits for you to unlock it.

“I didn’t choose the car nor the colour of it. And red is not my favourite colour.” You say with a little pout as you unlock the car and both of you get in. Ace has to adjust the seat as he is a bit too tall for your car.

“Yea, bet.” He scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“Where should I drive to?”

“My place.” Ace replies dryly. Brushing your wet hair from your face you nod and start the car.

****

The car ride is silent. The only time you and Ace exchange any type of words is when you ask him for direction. These twenty minutes to his place felt like an eternity to you. ‘Good job (Y/N), now you messed up any chance to have something with him.’ You are thinking to yourself. There is no chance that things will recover easily now that you have put both you and Ace in this situation. Parking the car in front of the building where he lives you don’t dare to look at him.

Unbuttoning his seatbelt Ace looks at you with one brow raised. Why are you not turning off the car?

“Aren’t you coming?” Hearing the question from him you finally dare to look at him.

“Uh... I... do you want me to come? I-I don’t want to bother your mom or something.” This and you also haven’t expected to receive such an invitation from him.

“Yea, come if you want. My mother is not home anyway.” He is still a bit pissed at you, but he also sees you trembling as you both are still soaking wet from the rain. Last thing Ace wants is for you to get sick because of him.

Hesitating for a moment you slowly nod your head and turn off the car. Unbuttoning your seatbelt, you and Ace both go out of it. The rain is still pouring but none of you hurries up to get inside. You are quietly following him as you enter the building and get in the elevator. Ace press the third floor on it and in the meantime, you look at yourself in the mirror. You notice that you look like a mess – with your hair and cloths all wet and your makeup ruined you feel like a clown right now. On top of it you notice that your bra is seen from under your shirt, and you can feel the embarrassment taking over your features again.

The ding of the elevator indicates that you reached his floor, and you wait for him to go out first so you can follow. Searching for his keys in the side pocket of his gym bag Ace pulls them up and unlocks the door. Opening the door, he nods at you to get in first. Taking a step in and taking off your boots you take a quick look around the place. It looks very neat and cozy, the walls are a very nice light cream nude colour.

“We can go to my room.” Ace says as he starts walking toward it and you go after him. While passing the living room you notice that there are a lot of paintings on the walls of flowers. Looking at you over his shoulder Ace notices you observing them. “It’s my mom’s hobby. Painting flowers is her new obsession.” He explains while holding the door to his room open waiting for you to get in.

“She pains very nice, they are beautiful.” You say as you look from under your lashes at him as you pass to enter his room. The room is quite messy, but you are not surprised or judgy as yours is not better condition than his. Some of the walls have basketball players on them and the walls are paint in a nice spruce blue colour. Next to his window is a big desk with his computer on it and by the looks of it he is also a gamer boy.

“You game a lot?” You ask trying to break the uncomfortable silence that has taken over again and also to calm yourself down because the realisation that you are in his room, in his apartment soaking wet just hits you.

“Yea, you can say this.” His reply is dry but unbeknown to you Ace is feeling just as awkward as you are right now. What was he thinking inviting you over? Especially with you looking like this right now, which causes his mind to run wild with the things he wants to do to you.

“Is that LeBron?” You point at one of the posters hanged on the walls to which he scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

“It’s Koby, um... it’s written with big letters on it.” He points back at the poster, and you awkwardly chuckle at your obvious mistake.

“Sorry, guess I need to check my eyes.” You let out a giggle as you try to lighten up the mood. Ace doesn’t share the giggle with you and at this point you are running out of ideas to how to make the situation less awkward. Chills run all over you and you wrap your arms around you to which Ace clears his throat.

“I can give you some clothes to change to, um... give me a sec and sit on the bed or something you don’t need to stand up.”

“It’s okay I don’t want to wet your bed or something.” You try to brush his offer off, but he just points with his eyes towards the bed so you just nod. Going to his wardrobe he starts to look for something that can fit you as well, but all his cloths will be too big on you. Finding some old basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt he grabs them, ‘they should fit her’ he thinks to himself. Turning around and seeing you sitting crossed leg on his bed so innocently looking at him at the same time with guilt written all over your face, gets his pulse raising. Taking a few steps and standing in front of you, with a little bit of a distance, he hands you the clothes. You mouth a thank you and reach with your hand to take them.

“Why did you stop me from punching his face but not yourself from spiting on it? You realise that now you are the one in trouble not me?” Giving you the clothes he sits right next to you on the bed. This time his voice is calm, there is no trace of anger in it. Ace wants to genuinely know why you put yourself in this situation.

Trying to collect yourself you don’t know how to response to this question without making things between you two worse. How do you tell him that you like him so much that the fact that a guy like Jack trying to make some kind of fun of him makes your blood boil. How do you tell Ace in a first place that you like him?

“I-I told you Ace... I just... just don’t like people like Jack making fun of others.” You uncross your legs and put the clothes to the side as you start playing with your fingers nervously.

“I get this part without you needing to repeat yourself. But you came and told me to drop it only for you to go and do the same thing is not very smart.” Ace turns his head to face you, but you refuse to look at him. “(Y/N) look at me.” His words are demanding but his voice is not, instead it is softer and somehow pleading. Still, you refuse to look at him as you are afraid if you do so you won’t be able to resist the urge to just scream at his face that you have feelings for him. Ace curses under his breath and places two of his finger under your chin making you look at him. “I didn’t and I don’t care what any person in this fucking school will or already is thinking of me or the video they saw. In a few months none of these people will matter. And I have been wanting to punch Jack’s face in a long time and if it wasn’t for you, I was going to do it. But why did you have to get involved?” Ace is trying his best to get an answer from you but all he gets is widen from fear eyes and you biting on your lip to a point where he thinks blood will come out soon. With a sigh he drops the hand that holds your chin on the bed next to your thigh, his shoulders slumping a bit as he doesn’t know what do to or say to make you to tell him the truth behind your actions. “I’m not mad at you, I’m more concerned about what will happen to you now. I don’t want you to get expelled from school because of me.”

“They won’t expel me, I will get in trouble, but they won’t expel me for it, so don’t worry.” Your voice is quiet as you try to reassure Ace that he shouldn’t be worried about you. But the fact that he is concern about you is filling your belly with butterflies.

“This doesn’t answer my question (Y/N).” He says propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in the palms of his hands.

“I-I can’t Ace.” You whisper.

“You can’t tell me? Why?” He straitens his posture again and looks at you in disbelief. “Why are you shy out of nowhere? Where is the confident rebellious girl that I know, now? You left her at school or something?” He is right. This isn’t like you. But you just can’t bring yourself to tell him, afraid of his rejection. You could feel your heart beating faster with every passing second.

“I- Ace... I- I... I did it because... because...” The words are on the tip of your tongue but saying them aloud is harder than you expected. Especially now with your eyes locked, the more you look into his deep dark eyes the more you are afraid of them rejecting you. “Because... Ace...”

“Just say it for fuck’s sake.” He snaps and at the same time you shut your eyes closed and blurt it out.

“Because I like you.” Silence filles the room. With your chest raising and falling fast you don’t dare to look at Ace, while he is trying to process what he just heard. Did he heard you right, you like him? Like you have a crush on him?

“Wh-what do you mean you like me?” His eyes widen from the shock and voice filled with confusion if you dare to open your eyes you will see his cheeks covered in blush as he still can’t believe what he has just heard. Not being able to take any more embarrassment for today you jump on your feet ready to run but Ace catches you just on time as you are about to open the door. Turning you around to face him and grabbing both of your wrists in his hands he pins you against the door with his body. “You can’t tell me you like me only to run away a second later.” He grunts as his face leans closer to yours. “How long?”

“Ace please...” You whisper pleadingly. Your legs are getting weak and your mind is getting foggy from having him towering over you. Not to mention the heat that forms in between your legs from the way you can feel his body on you.

“No. Answer. Now.” His voice goes lower and deeper sending chills on your body. “How long?” He repeats his question as he squeezes on your wrists but not in a painful way but in a very gentle yet demanding one. Looking away from his eyes he clicks with his tongue. “No, look me in the eyes.” Cursing under your nose you do as he tells you too. “Good girl. Now answer.”

“Since we start school.” You mumble quietly almost making it impossible for him to hear you.

“Louder (Y/N).” He presses his body on you entirely with one leg in between yours causing you to bite on your lip so hard just so you can supress the moan that almost has slipped your lips.

“Since we started school, okay? I had a crush on you since day one and... and then I started to like you... that’s... that’s why I-I...” You can’t finish your sentence as Ace crashes his lips with yours. It takes you a second to realise what has happened but the moment you do you return the kiss immediately. His kiss and his lips are better than you have imagined them - soft and full, you are a hundred percent sure you have never kissed a guy with such nice lips before. And the way he kisses you with passion and desire you are about to melt in his hands. Releasing your wrist and wrapping his arms around your waist you are fast to wrap yours around his neck.

“Jump.” Ace whispers against your lips and he doesn’t need to tell you twice. With one little bounce he catches you in his steady arms and lifts you. Wrapping your legs around his torso he continues to kiss you as this time his tongue licks your lower lips asking you to open your mouth. Parting your lips Ace wastes no time slipping his tongue inside your mouth. Electric currents are running over your body the moment he deepens the kiss. His tongue gliding with yours feels so warm and sweet. The taste of the kiss is a mixture of mint and the candy you and Robin shared earlier before classes.

Walking to the bed with you in his arms Ace places you gently in the middle of it as he hovers over your body without breaking the kiss. Now like this you have a better access to his body, you run one of your hands through his messy soft dark locks and the other over his hard defined with muscles back. Breaking the kiss to take the needed air both of you have forgotten that you need, Ace looks at you with half lidded eyes as he licks his lips which now are puffier from the kissing.

“You want this as well, right?” He sounds a little out of breath as his face comes closer to your ready to kiss your sweet puffy lips again, but also to make sure that you both are on the same page with where this is going. You can’t find your voice so all you can do is nod your head and pull him for another kiss. This time you don’t supress the moan that wants to escape your lips when you feel his hand grabbing and squeezing your thighs as he slides them under your skirt.

Feeling the soft skin of your thighs and hearing your sweet alluring moan, Ace feels his dick twitching in his shorts. Removing his hands from under your skirt he finds the zipper of it and unzips it. Pulling away from the kiss and you, he gives you a few slaps on the side of your right thigh to lift your hips so he can take off your skirt. Doing as you are being told he takes it off fast and sighs with pleasure at the view in front of him as he parts your legs.

“You sure red is not your favourite colour?” He smirks as he teases you over your red lace panties which now are drenched from your wetness. “Come on, I have only kissed you, not even properly touch you yet and you are this desperate for me?” Ace licks his lips not moving his eyes away from your covered pussy.

“You are not the one to talk.” You are quick to tease him back as his hardened bulge is being quite visibly defined in his basketball shorts.

“I’m not even fully hard yet.” He smirks from satisfaction seeing your pupils dilate. Hovering over you once again Ace kisses you again but only for his lips to travel to your jawline down to your neck. Him kissing and nipping your neck, while his hands are running up and down your thighs, feels like you are levitating. Finding your sweet spot on your neck, Ace gives it a lick and then sucks on it causing you to jerk your body upwards from the pleasure and goosebumps he has just caused you, but he is fast to hold you firm under him with his hands and body. “Stay put.” He whispers in your ear as he bites on the soft part of it causing you to whine under him.

Running your hands down on his biceps you realise that he has way too many clothes, and it’s time for him to get rid from some of it. Reaching with your hands down to his torso you find the ends of his compress shirt and start lifting it. Knowing what your intensions are, Ace helps you with removing the shirt as he throws it somewhere across the room. You feel your pussy throbs from the sight of him shirtless. His chest is defined and muscular and so are his abs which get your mouth running dry. You run both of your hands over it, feeling his warm and soft skin under your fingertips, you bite on your lower lip as you notice a tattoo on his left arm, which you have never seen before.

“Enjoying the view?” He chuckles as his hands reach for the buttons of your shirt and start unbuttoning them one by one. Propping yourself on your elbows, you help him take it off. Reaching to unclip your bra Ace is quick to stop you. “No, this can stay. Red looks good on you.” His voice has gone raspier and he gently pushes you to lay back on the bed again. Pressing you once again on the matters he dips his head in the crook of your neck and slowly trails his lips down to the valley of your chest. With his hands now on both of your breasts he cups them and squeezes gently.

While he is busy kissing the skin around them and massaging them you are exploring the expanse of his back and shoulders. Reaching the waistband of his basketball shorts and determined to take them down, you get distracted as you feel Ace pushing one side of your bra lower and wrapping his lips around your harden nipple. Your hands move to his hair instantly as you push him closer to your chest. He doesn’t let your other breast feel left out as his thumb and index finger are switching between soft and hard pinches making you whine in pleasure.

“Ace please.” You beg him as you can feel the pool of arouser that has formed in between your legs. Rasing your hips a bit so you can get a bit of friction to his harden bulge he pins you down again with his body making it impossible for you to move. Letting go of your nipple with his lips and looking up at you he shakes his head. His dark brown eyes are now filled with lust as does his mind.

“Do you know how long you have been teasing me with these stockings you come to school and your innocent glances at me all the time?” He asks you while rolling his hips on top of you with a hiss. Your eyes widen with surprise as you heard that he has caught you staring at him all the time in school. “What you think I haven’t notice?” Ace laughs mockingly at you. “You think I haven’t notice you getting all dolled up for our first meeting for the project or these beautiful thighs since day one?” He teases you with his low deep voice as he stars traveling down with his lips on your body.

Moving his hands and placing them at the back of your knees Ace raises them and places your legs on his shoulders leaving you entirely exposed to him. Running his fingers on your stockings up to where your thighs are exposed, he lets out a sigh full of satisfaction. Your soft and beautiful thighs which have been driving him crazy for months, now are finally in his hands and the things he has been planning to do to them are about to come true.

With one hand caressing your left thigh, he starts slowly placing a trail of kisses on the inner side of the right one. As he gets close to now your drenched lace panties, he bites softly on your softest part of your inner thigh causing you to jerk closer to him as you can’t stand his teasing anymore.

“Ace please... please touch me.” You are so desperate for his touch that a single tear falls from your left eye.

“Sh, patience.” He is quick to hush you as he turns his attention now to your left thigh and does the exact same thing all over again but this time with his kisses are slopier. Not only the waistband around his basketball short is getting tighter but so are his boxers. It takes all his willpower to withhold himself from taking them down and fuck you aggressive on his bed, but before he does this, he must taste your pussy.

Gripping on the side of your hips a bit to harsh but not on purpose, Ace drags your lower body even closer to his face and finally he is able to inhale the sweet smell from your soaked pussy. Kissing your pussy lips over the fabric of your panties, a whisper leaves your mouth. Tracing the outline of your lips with the tip of his nose, Ace stops at your covered entrance and kisses it, causing his lips to get wet from your dripping pussy. Licking his lips and taseting how sweet your cunt is, he can’t help but moan himself. Holding you still firm in his arms with legs propped on his shoulders, he reaches with his right index to move aside your panties.

“Oh God you are so beautiful.” His voice comes out as a whine of pleasure as he finally uncovers you and he can see your coated from arousal pussy. You can’t help but clench your cunt around nothing as his comment makes you squeeze your thighs from desire. “Ye baby, make this pussy throbs again.” Ace being pussydrunk by the sight in front of him, can’t move his eyes from your cunt as he is in an awe. You do as he has told you and another moan leaves his lips. The view of your wet pussy leaking with your arousal almost made him finish on the spot.

Not wasting a second more Ace buries his face in your wet folds. Taking one long lick from the entrance to your puffed clit your whole body shakes. Cleaning all the sweet juices off he is now entirely focused on your clit. Sucking and licking the bundle of nerves Ace gets you twisting and turning under him. A sudden impactful slap causes tingling sensation on your ass cheek. A mixture of pleasurable pain and surprice leaves your lips.

“Stay still.” Is the only thing Ace tells you as he looks at you with a hungry look in his eyes and lips still on your pussy. “Or you won’t finish.”

Inhaling deep as he goes back to eating you out you are now entirely up to his mercy. You can no longer move or squeeze your hips afraid that he might deny you your orgasm. Sucking harshly on your clit, he extremely gently bites on it which caused you a feeling of pleasurable pain that you have never felt before, he slowly moves his tongue to your entrance. Plunging his tongue in your entrance he starts to slowly tongue fuck you which causes your eyes to roll from pleasure. Taking a better hold of you with his left arm Ace reaches with his right hand and places his thumb on your clit and start to run circles around it. With his tongue fucking you and his finger playing with your clit you feel the pleasure building in your lower stomach. Gripping the bedsheets under you in a tight grip your hips start to shake. It takes one stronger push on your clit from Ace’s finger to get you crying out his name as your orgasm hits you like the truck.

Ace rolls his eyes from pleasure the moment he feels you clenching your pussy around his tongue as your sweet cum covers his tongue. Not even bothering to stop until he licks the last drop from you Ace doesn’t move an inch from your pussy.

“Ace, Ace please... please I’m too sensitive... Ace...” You try to make him stop but all the air has left your lungs and you feel dizzy under him. With one last long lick and a kiss placed on top of your clit Ace finally pulls his head away from between your thighs. Taking your legs off from his shoulders he lays them spread on the bed. Coming closer and hovering over you he brushes the hair from your face and kisses your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips as now he is slowly kissing you as his lips and chin are covered in your pussy’s juices.

“You taste so sweet, baby. I can get addicted to the taste of you.” He whispers as he pulls from the kiss. With half lidded eyes and still recovering from the aftermath of your orgasm you cup his face in your hands and pull him for another kiss. Relaxing his body on top of yours, you can feel his dick twitching in his pants. Sliding one hand in between your bodies you trace the harden bulge with your hand and squeeze it causing Ace to hiss from pleasure. Breaking the kiss again you both looking into each others’ eyes.

“I think your shorts needs to be taken off.” You swallow hard as you gently massage his hard member.

“Yea, I think so too.” Sitting on his knees again Ace pulls down his shorts along with his boxers freeing his harden cock. Your thighs clench at the sight of it. His cock is not only big, but it is also thick and vainly. Precum is already leaking from his redden tip as he runs his hand up and down his shaft. Moving to stand from his bed he takes the shorts and the boxers off entirely and kicks them on the floor. He reaches to his nightstand and open the last drawer taking a condom from it. Ripping it open with his teeth he slides the condom on his length and hopes back on bed, nesting himself between your legs. “Are you ready? Relaxed?” He hovers over you and looks at your eyes to see if there is any sign of hesitation in them.

“I am Ace.” You breath out as you adjust your body more comfortably on the pillows behind you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders pulling him closer to you.

“You are not a...” He awkwardly scrunches his face as even though he is sure you are not a virgin, he rather be safe then sorry.

“Uh, no... I... I have done it a few times.” You chuckle a little shy and also finding it adorable that he is so mindful about your comfort as well. Nodding he spreads your legs open a little more with one hand as he runs the tip of his dick up and down from your clit to your entrance.

“Relax and enjoy then.” He says as he kisses your lips once more and positions his tip on your entrance. You bite on his lower lip as with a little push he entrances you slowly. The feeling of burn is taking over your core because of his size and seeing this, Ace gives you some time to adjust to it. Clenching around him he hisses from pleasure which instinctively makes him trust in you. A moan of pleasure escapes your parted lips, and this gives Ace the sign to go.

Rocking his hips slowly but steady in and out of you, Ace has propped himself on his elbows on both of your sides and is looking down on where your bodies are connected. Trying to muffle your whines and moans by kissing along his neck and shoulders, your hands are exploring his chest and back as you can’t get enough of the feeling of his soft skin on yours.

Increasing his tempo as he feels you relaxing more under him Ace grabs your legs again and place them on his shoulders, raising your lower back in the air as he grabs a pillow and places it under it. Now standing steady on his knees, he has put you both in a better position where you can feel him better and deeper in your gummy walls, hitting the sweet spot causing you pleasure all over your body. Now focused on your breasts bouncing with every hard thrust he reaches with his hands and pinches your hard nipples causing you to arch your back from pleasure. Clenching and unclenching your pussy from pleasure around him, your moans mixed with his grunts fill up the room.

“Shit, if you continue to squeeze this tight I... shit...” He lets out a moan as you squeeze on more time your pussy around his dick. Grunting, Ace puts down your left leg and turns your body to the side as he keeps your right leg up. In this position, hitting your walls sideways you can’t help but roll your eyes from pleasure. You can feel the burning sensation in your lower stomach forming once again indicating you that you are close.

Seeing you arching your back and rolling your eyes, with fists clenching around the bedsheets a cocky smile spreads across his face. Ace feels like he has never seen something sexier than you right now - your puffy swollen lips parted and your boobs bouncing up and down with every trust his dick makes deep into you.

“Ace, I’m goin...” A muffle cry leaves your lips, making it unable for you to finish your sentence as your whole-body jerks and shakes around Ace as you milk down his dick. The squeezing of your pussy as you climax on him, makes it feel tighter for him and Ace can feel that he is about to cum soon. With the feeling of your warm gummy walls hugging tight his dick he trusts now harder in you than before. The sounds of your skin slapping and the hot air of sex that has taken over the room makes him roll his own eyes and with one last thrust he shoots his head back and a loud groan leaves his lips as he cums with his dick buried deep in you.

With both of you trying to catch your breaths, Ace pulls out after a minute from you but before he gets from the bed he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. Grabbing his boxers before he leaves the room, he tells you that he will be back in a moment to which you only nod as you are still recovering from your high. Coming back after a minute in the room with his boxers on, he carries a wet towel with him.

“You don’t need to do all this I can do it myself.” You protest but Ace shushes you as he sits on the bed next to you and gently cleans the mess between your legs.

“I clean after myself, plus you said you don’t want to wet my bed, right?” He chuckles as he messes up with you. Hiding your face with the palms of your hands you laugh at his comment.

After he made sure that you are good and alright, Ace helps you to put some cloths on and both of you get under the covers of his bed. He is leaned on the headboard as one of his hands is placed over your shoulders with your head on his chest. Runing circles on his chest with your fingers you move your head a bit to take a better look at him.

“Um, Ace?” You quietly call for his attention and he focus it on you. “Can I ask why were you arrested?” You aren’t sure if this is the best moment to ask this, but it is worth the shot. Ace hums and takes a deep breath before he answers.

“I was getting in school fights a lot and one day I broke a guy’s arm from my class. But this is not why they cuffed me, it was because I was high and had weed with me.” He explains short and clear. “I got kicked out and with a lot of connections and thanks to my grades, my mom managed to get me into the shit of school we go now.” Saying this he looks down on you and chuckles sarcastically. “You still like me now?”

“The question is do you like me?” You are still scared of the answer as having sex with you don’t equal mutual feelings.

“About this...” Ace takes a deep breath in and can’t help but laughs as he sees your face going blank from fear. “How do you feel about a date this Friday?” He gives you a charming smile and you are finally able to breath again.

“As long as I don’t get grounded after today, it is a yes.” You smile at him as you would love to go on a date with him.

“Then this should give you your answer.” He kisses the top of your head as you snuggle closer to him.

****

You two have fallen asleep when Ace suddenly jerks awake as he hears something falling in the kitchen. Looking around his room is dark which means you two have taken quite the long nap. Moving you aside a bit as he gets up to check what made the noise. Putting a t-shirt and a pair of shorts to cover his body, Ace leaves the room fast as he doesn’t want to wake you up.

Getting in the kitchen he is met with his mom stern but also warm gaze.

“Care to explain why you left school early today?” Rogue asks her son as she is preparing dinner. Ace blushes as he realises now that his mother is home there is no way possible that he can sneaks you out nor that she hasn’t notice the pair of girly boots by the entrance of her home.

“Uh, yes ma. But you know... I kinda have someone over.” He awkwardly scratches the nape of his neck. Rogue can’t help but laugh as she sees Ace whole face getting flushed.

“Mm, I kind of already figured this out.” She half shrugs with her brings her focus again on the cutting board. “Is she your girlfriend?” Taking a glance at her son again she giggles as he is struggling with finding the right words to describe the situation.

“Soon to be... maybe... yea something like this.” Ace murmurs avoiding looking at his mother.

“Well, then she should definitely stay for dinner, don’t you think?” Rouge puts the knife down and smiles at Ace. This is new. She has never met any girl Ace has liked or let alone catching him with one at their home, so she is more than excited to finally meet a girl who her son is interested in.

“I will ask her if she wants to.” Ace says as he turns to walk back to his room.

“Is she the girl you are paired with for biology?” Rouge calls after Ace before he leaves the room to which he response with his thumbs up without looking back at her. A big knowing smile placed on her face. She knew it. She knew that his recent behaviour is caused because of a girl. And she can’t wait to meet her and thanks her for bringing her son’s sparkle back.

END NOTE: This is the first smut ever that I write so please I need a feedback if it was good or not. I really hope that you have enjoyed this one shot as I really tried to build the characters and their characteristics + behavior in the best way possible giving the fact that this won't be a series. Also I hope that you have enjoy the little interactions between Ace and his mother Rouge as I feel like he would be such a mama's boy but not in the awful unhealthy obsessed way, but in the very healthy mother-son relationship. Anyway I won't be yapping more - if you liked this short story feel free to like, comment, reblog or inbox me ♡ And as aways thank you for reading my works ♡

writing, format, header & dividers © eand47 ©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[sayyestoheav3nn]

You, Again: Part 1/2

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: fluff, angst, short mention of abortion, emotional/verbal abuse

Word Count: 3k

a/n: thanks for your patience, it really means a lot 🥹 I hope this isn't a disappointment. still working on part five of nights like this, most likely won't be posted till monday. click here if you would like to be tagged in part two.

Sky spent hours in her room crying into her pillow. She was sick and tired of this constant fucked up routine.

Her mother’s disdain for her progressively grew worse day by day. For as long as she could remember, that woman did everything in her power to make sure she understood that her biggest mistake in life, would always be the day she chose not to abort her.

It was starting to become a nightly occurrence of her drunkenly barging into her room just to belittle and scream at her. 

Her mother’s hatred for her grew immensely as the years went on, to the point where she would find absolutely any reason to take her frustrations out on her.

This included breaking any and everything she could get ahold of in Sky’s room.

Sky knew any attempt to defend herself would only make the situation ten times worse, so she just stayed quiet and accepted it.

Sky could tell she wanted a reaction out of her, which is exactly why she refused to give it.

Maybe life would have been a tad bit easier, if her sister would’ve had her back during these repetitive toxic situations she was forced into. 

But no, her one and only sibling turned out to be an even more evil and vindictive bitch. 

Eva was four years older than her, and it was absolutely no secret that her older sister despised her.

Sky spent many years hoping she would eventually be able to build a relationship with her big sister. 

Unfortunately, she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Sky remembers that night like it was yesterday. The night where Eva went to the bathroom and her creepy boyfriend tried to make multiple passes at her.

The fact that he knew she was underaged and still chose to hit on her, disgusted Sky to another level. She quickly rejected his creepy insinuations, trying her best to ignore him. 

As soon as Eva stepped out of the bathroom, Sky wasted no time in telling her exactly what happened, not giving two fucks about the fact he was still standing there.

Her boyfriend immediately interjected, saying that Sky was the one who was hitting on him, he painted a story about how she’d been making him uncomfortable for the longest of time whenever Eva wasn’t around.

She remembered the exact lies he spewed, “Baby you know how jealous she’s always been of you, don’t tell me you believe this crazy bitch! Why would I ever do that to you? Let alone in your own house!”

To her surprise Eva looked at Sky like she was fucking insane, Sky could see her sisters anger rising.

“Eva, please don’t tell me you believe him over me…” Sky’s voice cracked as tears started to form in her eyes.

Eva pushed Sky against the wall with all the force she had, causing the back of Sky’s head to slightly start bleeding. 

“If you ever even think to go near him again, I’ll fucking kill you,” Eva sneered.

In that exact moment Sky whole heartedly accepted the fact that she was truly alone, with absolutely no one by her side. 

And just when she had fully given up hope on continuing to live this shitty life, with her even shittier family, she met Joe. 

Joe was a boy who made her whole entire world shift. 

He was her new neighbor, who in a short time of getting to know, became her favorite person. 

As years passed they grew even closer, she was his best friend, and he was hers. 

He was truly a light in her dark world, and there wasn’t a damn thing she’d do to change that.

……….

After another night of the same bullshit fight caused by her drunken mom, Sky carefully stumbled out of her bedroom window making her way across the wet grass that was now starting to soak her fuzzy slippers. Her phone was dead, so she had no choice but to rely on the natural moonlight to illuminate the short path leading her next door.

She lightly tapped on Joe’s window, hoping not to startle him.

Shortly after, he carefully slid his window open. His eyes were low and sunken, a sleepy smile formed on his face.

“Come in.” Joe helped Sky climb in, which basically consisted of him doing all the work in picking her up.

“Shit, sorry for waking you up Joe,” she whispered.

“Sky, how many times have I told you? Never apologize for that shit,” his voice was low.

Joe knew that she had issues with her family, but Sky made sure to never tell him how bad it really was. She knew him well, his hot headed ass would confront them with no hesitation, but that would only end up making things worse for her. 

If Sky’s mom found out about him, she’d forbid her from ever seeing him again.

And that’s something that Sky simply would not allow, so choosing to keep him in the dark, in her eyes was the right choice.

Joe pulled his covers back leaving Sky’s preferred side easier for her to get in.

His bedroom became a safe space for her, it was starting to become a habit for Sky to spend her nights sleeping there. For some odd reason the smell of his sheets gave her a sense of comfort, his cologne scent became soothing to her.

They both laid down on their backs, with their gazes focused on the ceiling. 

Joe was always respectful, making sure he left a small space in between them.

“You wanna talk about it?” He whispered.

“Thanks, but not really,” she sighed.

Joe could hear the sadness in her tone, he knew she was holding something in, but he didn’t want to push her. He believed she’d open up when she felt comfortable enough, so he respected that.

“That’s okay….but know you can tell me anything, Sky.”

She turned her body to face him, “I’m going to tell you something, but promise me you won’t get upset,” she muttered.

Just as Joe was deep in his thoughts admiring Sky’s beauty, beauty in which he was convinced everyone saw except her, her light angelic voice instantly snapped him out of it. “Talk to me, we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be my last night sleeping here…”

Joe quickly sat up on the bed, with his eyebrows furrowed. Sky could feel his gaze locked in on her. “Why?”

“Joe I know we’re just friends and that we’ve always had boundaries, but you have a girlfriend. It…it just seems disrespectful to keep sleeping here knowing that,” she muttered.

Joe paused in silence for what felt like forever. Sky was starting to get anxious, because the last thing she needed was to cause problems or a rift between them. As regret started to seep in, she decided to try and smooth the situation over.

“It’s just—”

“We’re not together anymore,” his voice was low.

Confusion, that’s exactly what Sky was feeling. This was the last thing she was expecting him to say.

“W—Why didn’t you say anything? What happened?”

“She didn’t like me being friends with you, so she gave me an ultimatum… to choose between you or her.” 

At that Sky stood up, her anxiety causing her to pace the room while so much guilt began to weigh her mind. She felt so fucking bad, knowing that her friendship ended his relationship which was the exact thing she was trying to avoid. 

She swallowed down her emotions as best as she could, which worked to no prevail because she instantly felt warm tears begin to slide down her face. “Joe I-I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t….you shouldn’t have chosen me.”

Joe instinctively walked towards her now seeing that she was crying, he gently grabbed her chin forcing her gaze on his. 

“Sky, there’s no reason to be sorry. It was the easiest choice I’ve ever fucking made.’’

“I—It’s my fault Joe…. I shouldn’t have put you in this situation,” she sniffled. 

“Look at me,” his voice was assertive but still gentle, Sky’s glossy eyes met his.

“The ultimatum wasn’t the only reason I ended things with her, Sky.” 

“Joe, w—what do you mean? I’m confused…..”

He moved some of her hair behind her ears, the way his eyes were glued to her lips gave her butterflies. “I….don’t want to just be friends anymore.”

Sky could feel her heart beating out of her fucking chest. Sure she believed they were close, but in no world did she ever think he thought of her that way. Joe carefully studied her facial expressions, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

“I—”

Before she could speak Joe interrupted. “I’ve always liked you Sky, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, inside and out. I enjoy every moment I spend with you. With that being said… I understand if you don’t feel the same way, my intention isn’t to make you uncomfortable. But, I just needed you to—

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I want you to kiss me, Joe.” 

Just as he was beginning to lean in, she slightly hesitated while slowly pulling back.

“I’ve.. I’ve never…” Sky was too embarrassed to finish her sentence.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?”

She shook her head no, her gaze now shifted to the floor. 

Joe lightly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sky, it’s just me. I got you, I promise.”

Once she silently gave him the approval, Joe gently pressed his lips against hers, starting off slow letting her get used to the feeling. Her lips were so fucking full and soft, it was going to be a challenge for him to contain himself.

Once Joe could feel her growing comfortable, he began to deepen their kiss. Sky could feel her arousal intensify as the kiss went from soft and slow to something more needy and sensual.  

Without a second thought, he picked her up by her ass, hoisting her on his hips. 

Sky wrapped her legs around him, while doing the same with her arms around his neck. Joe carried her back towards his bed, laying her down gently, while pulling her closer towards him.

To his surprise Sky climbed on top, straddling and kissing him. Joe sat up with his back resting on the headboard, a light moan escaped him when she slid her fingers behind his head, lightly scratching at his scalp.

He slightly pulled away, biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes entranced by that beautiful face of hers. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“Me too,” she grinned.

Time passed, and Joe had no idea how long they spent kissing. It’s almost as if time didn’t exist when she was around him.

They eventually had to stop, Joe refused to get ahead of himself, making sure to prioritize taking things slow with her.

Just as they were about to sleep, Joe got up and walked to his drawer pulling out something plastic, it was too dark for her to tell.

“Shit, I almost forgot.” 

“What is it?”

Joe handed her the light plastic item. “I know you forget to bring it sometimes, so I bought you one to leave here.”

Once Sky shined her phone light on it, a smile formed on her face.

A bonnet. 

Joe went out of his way to buy her a bonnet.

Something so simple, yet so fucking thoughtful made her eyes water “Thank you Joe.” 

She immediately pulled it out the package, wasting no time in putting it on.

Sky kissed his cheek and laid down, Joe pulled her by her waist with his big arms wrapped around her, there was no longer a gap in between. The warmth of his chest on her back was the most comforting thing she’d ever experienced, resulting in her instantly falling asleep.

Since the day he met her, she’d been the only person he thought about. Having her this close to him, internally evoked new emotions for him.

Watching her sleep so peacefully while being wrapped in his arms, brought a smile to his face. In that very moment he made a vow to himself, to always put her happiness first.

No matter what.

…………….

Present

The New York city lights illuminated the busy streets. Sky wasn’t used to being in such a live and ambient city. 

After a shit ton of convincing from her best friend Lori, Sky forced herself to step out of her comfort zone and pursue a new potential career opportunity. It’s something that she had been wanting to do for the longest time, but unfortunately her deep rooted insecurities had her convinced she wasn’t good enough.

She was scared to waste so much time and effort, just to end up receiving rejection. 

Except she was wrong, very wrong. Because after an exhausting few months of traveling around the world and going to so many different try outs, life finally threw her a bone.

Sky had received a message from her agent, informing her that a well known modeling agency based in New York, was interested in flying her in for a week to attend their casting call.

This was an opportunity she was glad she didn’t miss. Lori, being the amazing friend that she is, decided to join Sky to offer her unwavering support.

After being in this colorful, fast paced city for a few days, Sky went in for one last meeting with the agency where they informed her she would officially be signed.

Sky still had the weekend left in this enormous city, so she figured she’d make the most of it. Lori, suggested they try out this new fancy bar to celebrate Sky’s new job.

As they walked in the atmosphere was relaxing, the room was filled with dim lighting and the low sounds of jazz music. Sky noticed diverse groups of people scattered across the room, the air was filled with chatter and laughter, which brought a small smile to her face.

They decided to sit at the stools of the bar, they figured the closer they were, the faster they’d receive their drinks.

To say they were having a good time would be an understatement, Sky was starting to truly enjoy the feeling of being immersed in this vibrant city.

While Lori went to the bathroom, Sky decided to order their third drinks, and as she was waiting she ended up getting distracted with a dumbass reality show, that for some reason was starting to pique her interest.

Just as the boring commercials started to play, she was starting to zone out when out of the corner of her eye she saw a WWE ad.

Sky could instantly feel her breath hitch in her throat. It’s not the first time she’s seen him randomly displayed on tv. 

That’s not the exact reason her heart was racing, while her body felt frozen in place. It’s the fact that the advertisement said he was in this exact area for a press event he had during the weekend. 

Every piece of joy she was feeling prior to this revelation was stripped away.

Lori came back, and with one glance at Sky, she immediately knew something was wrong, “Sky, are you okay?”

Sky cleared her throat, trying her absolute best to play it off. “I’m fine, I promise. I think these drinks are hitting me all at once,” she nervously chuckled.

Lori stared at Sky, seeming completely unconvinced, but she ultimately decided to let it go.

“I’ll drop it for now, only because it’s a big day for you.”

“Thank you,” Sky mouthed.

Sky waited twenty minutes for Lori to finish her drink, her anxiety made it feel like she was waiting a lifetime. Once Lori finished up, Sky asked to leave, using the excuse that she was exhausted. 

Lori paid their tab after refusing to let Sky pay a dime. They started to make their way out of the packed bar, trying their best to maneuver away from large crowds. 

Just as they were close to the entrance door, Lori had to turn around when she noticed she left her sunglasses. Sky was looking back to see if her friend had located them, while still walking forward. 

She decided it would be best to wait outside since the bar was starting to get congested. When she reached to open the door, her gaze was glued to her purse while she dug for her cellphone.

Before she knew it, she accidentally bumped into someone, causing her to stumble back.

She stood up, immediately apologizing, moving to the side as more people walked in. “Shit. I’m so sorry!” 

“Sky?” His voice was low and hesitant. 

In hearing that voice, his voice… she looked up, suddenly feeling the air grow thick. The bar started to feel small, as if it was enclosing around her.

She felt her body go cold, her legs started to feel weak and numb. No words escaped her mouth, she was rendered speechless.

He studied her, noticing she was just as fucking stunning as he remembered. After all these years, the feeling he got when she looked up at him, never changed.

“Sky…” 

“Stay the fuck away from me, Roman,” her voice cracked, while tears began to pool in her eyes. She pushed past him, while quickly walking away.

He knew he deserved it, but hearing her call him by that name fucking stung.

He stopped her by gently grabbing her arm.

“Sky, if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll…I’ll let you be. But please just let me explain,” he pleaded.

“I think it’s a little too fucking late for that,” she scoffed. 

Sky walked out the bar without looking back, quickly texting Lori saying she’d be at a café a few blocks over. Right now all she wanted was to create as much distance as possible, from the man who broke her heart.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Boyfriends

Based around the song Boyfriends by Harry Styles

Word count: 9,985

Content warning: fighting, cursing, mentions of alcohol and a lot of angst.

A little over two years ago

The concert was electric, every beat of the music reverberating through Y/N’s chest as she moved through the press pit with her camera. She’d already taken dozens of photos—Harry under the spotlight, interacting with the crowd, lost in the music but she knew her best work came from capturing the moments no one else saw.

As the final notes of the encore rang out, she noticed the security team starting to guide photographers toward the exit. Her mind raced. She couldn’t leave yet. Not when there was a chance to get the kind of candid shots that would set her portfolio apart from the rest of her competitors. 

She slung her camera strap tighter over her shoulder and approached one of the large security guards standing near the backstage entrance.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. “I know I’m supposed to head out, but I’d really love to capture some candid shots of Harry as he comes off stage. It would tell such a story.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Not sure that’s allowed. Press isn’t usually permitted back there. Private.”

“Please,” Y/N insisted, her tone earnest. “I promise I won’t get in the way. Just a few quick shots, and I’ll be out of there. I promise.”

The guard hesitated, studying her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I didn’t see you.”

“Thank you!” she said, already slipping past him toward the backstage area.

She hurried down the dimly lit hallway, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor. The muffled roar of the crowd faded behind her, replaced by the sounds of crew members breaking down equipment and distant chatter. This is what she lived for. 

Just as she rounded a corner, the door to the stage swung open, and there he was towel slung over one shoulder, his face glowing with sweat and adrenaline. Y/N froze, momentarily stunned.

Harry’s eyes landed on her, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Well, aren’t you persistent? Must’ve made a pretty convincing case to the security team.” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

Y/N blinked, her grip tightening on her camera. “I just… I wanted to get some shots of you coming off stage. It’s where the magic happens, right?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp curls. “Magic, huh? I don’t know about that. Mostly sweat and bad jokes back here.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she quipped, raising her camera slightly as if to ask for permission.

Harry tilted his head, his smile softening. “Go ahead, photographer. Show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N didn’t waste another second. 

A few weeks later 

The small Italian restaurant was tucked into a quiet corner of New York, dimly lit with candles flickering on each table. It was the kind of place where conversations were hushed, and the aroma of garlic and fresh bread filled the air. Y/N sat across from Harry, her hands wrapped around a glass of red wine, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest as he leaned back, effortlessly relaxed.

“So,” Harry began, a faint smirk on his lips. “I have to ask, do you always beg security guards to let you backstage, or was that just a one-time thing?”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks warming. “I wasn’t begging. I was persuading. There’s a difference and hey! It worked.”

“Right,” he said, drawing out the word playfully. “Well, whatever it was I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so determined to take pictures of me covered in sweat.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. “I was trying to capture the moment—the real you. Not the polished, on-stage version.”

Harry tilted his head, his gaze softening. “That’s what caught my attention, you know. I mean, I’ve had photographers at shows before, but you…  had this fire. Like you weren’t just there for the job, you cared about it.”

Y/N’s fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as she looked at him, surprised. “You noticed all that?”

“Of course,�� he said, leaning forward slightly. “You were practically sprinting down the hallway to get the shot. I remember thinking, ‘Who is this girl, and why is she running so fast?’”

She laughed, trying to play it cool. “It’s my job. I just wanted to do it well.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Well, you did. The way you didn’t hesitate to push for what you wanted. Most people don’t do that around me. I liked it.”

 Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. “And what about you? Most people would’ve just walked past me, but you stopped. Why?”

He took a sip of his wine, considering her question. “Maybe I liked the challenge. You didn’t seem fazed by all the… ‘Harry Styles’ stuff. You were just yourself. It was refreshing.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, but she kept her tone light. “So, basically, you’re saying I charmed my way into your good graces?”

“Exactly,” Harry said with a grin. “And now, here we are. A photographer and her subject having pasta in a little New York restaurant. Life’s funny like that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” he teased, his voice low. “But I’m glad you begged that security guard. Makes for a good story.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. 

Present day

The faint sound of an alarm broke the quiet of the early morning, its persistent buzz pulling Y/N from sleep. She groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the pillow, trying to block out the noise. At the foot of the bed, her chubby orange cat, Teddy, stretched lazily, his tail flicking in mild irritation at the disturbance.

The bed shifted slightly as Harry moved beside her. She peeked one eye open to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on a pair of flare jeans. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was moving with the sluggishness of someone who hadn’t had enough coffee yet.

“Harry?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

He glanced back at her, already reaching for a hoodie draped over the chair. “Studio,” he said simply, his tone casual.

Y/N sat up slightly, blinking at him in confusion. “The studio? But… we were supposed to go to the market today. Remember? We talked about it all week.”

Harry froze for a moment, his hand paused mid-reach for his phone on the nightstand. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, right. Sorry, love. Totally slipped my mind.”

She stared at him, the sting of his words sinking in. “You forgot?”

“It’s just been busy,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation—not at her, but at himself. “You could still go, though. Pick up a few things for us?” He gave her a small smile, as if that would smooth things over.

Y/N frowned, leaning back against the headboard. “So, you want me to go alone? After we planned this together?”

“It’s not that I want you to,” he replied, clearly sensing her frustration. “I just can’t get out of the session. It’s important.”

Her chest tightened, the hurt creeping in despite her best efforts to brush it off. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Lately, the studio seemed to take priority over everything else.

“Right,” she said quietly, her tone laced with disappointment. “I’ll go. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer to her side of the bed. “Y/N, I’m not trying to upset you. I just need to get this done.”

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “I know. I get it. You’re busy. It just… feels like you’re always too busy these days.”

His face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it, instead leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Y/N forced a small smile, watching as he grabbed his keys and slipped out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the quiet.

She let out a sigh, glancing at Teddy, who had barely stirred from his spot at the foot of the bed. “Looks like it’s just you and me today, buddy.”

Teddy let out a sleepy meow, as if in agreement, and Y/N pulled the covers closer, wondering how long she could keep pretending this didn’t bother her as much as it did.

After getting dressed and going solo to the market Y/N sat on the couch in their London apartment, absently scrolling through her phone. The soft hum of the city filtered through the windows, but inside, the space felt eerily quiet. Teddy, her ever-loyal orange cat, was curled up beside her, his rhythmic purring the only sound in the room.

For weeks now, it had been the same routine. Harry would wake up early, leaving the house before she’d even fully opened her eyes, and come home late, exhaustion etched across his features. He was always kind, always apologetic in his soft-spoken way, but the words “I’m sorry, love” were beginning to feel hollow.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did. Harry was driven, passionate about his music, and that was one of the things she loved most about him. But lately, his determination felt more like a wall between them than something to admire.

She let her phone drop onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Every time she tried to bring it up—how distant he seemed, how much she missed him—she felt silly, selfish even. His work was important, and she didn’t want to be the needy girlfriend who couldn’t handle his busy schedule.

But it hurt.

It hurt to feel like she was always the second priority, to have their plans constantly pushed aside for another recording session, another photoshoot, another promotional event. It hurt to go to bed alone and wake up to an empty side of the bed, save for Teddy’s occasional company.

She ran her hands through her hair, letting out a slow breath.

Y/N didn’t need grand gestures or romantic getaways. She didn’t need a fancy dinner or expensive gifts. She just wanted Harry—the Harry who used to stay up late talking with her about anything and everything, the Harry who’d pull her into his arms for a kiss in the middle of the kitchen, the Harry who used to make her feel like the center of his world.

But now? Now it felt like she was living with a ghost of him, someone who passed through their apartment in a blur of schedules and commitments.

Teddy shifted beside her, his big green eyes blinking up at her as if sensing her mood. She scratched behind his ears, her lips tugging into a faint smile.

“I don’t know, Ted,” she said softly. “How do you tell someone you love them, but you’re starting to hate how they make you feel?”

The cat let out a small chirp in response, and she let out a half-hearted laugh.

Y/N shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before everything boiled over. She could only hold it in for so long. She did what any girl would do and called her best friend for a girls night. 

Y/N paced back and forth in the kitchen, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. Teddy watched her from his spot on the counter, his tail flicking lazily as if he could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Addy, are you busy tonight?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady but failing miserably.

“Not particularly,” Addy replied, the faint clinking of dishes in the background suggesting she was doing something mundane. “Why? What’s up?”

“I need to rant,” Y/N said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Like, properly rant. Maybe cry a little. You free for a sleepover? I’ll bring wine.”

Addy didn’t hesitate. “Of course, babe. Get over here. I’ll grab the blankets and make a snack spread. You know I never say no to wine and a vent session.”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips, a flicker of relief breaking through her frustration. “You’re a lifesaver, Addy. Seriously.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Addy said, her tone warm. “Now hurry up. We’ve got wine to drink and whining to do.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though her chest still felt heavy. “Be there soon.”

She hung up the call and turned to Teddy, who was now licking his paw as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Alright, buddy, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” she said, grabbing his food bowl and refilling it. Teddy let out a small meow of approval, hopping down to inspect his meal.

Y/N moved quickly, tossing a few essentials into an overnight bag: her favorite pajamas, a toothbrush, her phone charger. She grabbed the bottle of wine she’d been saving and gave Teddy one last scratch behind the ears before locking the door behind her.

The short walk to Addy’s flat was brisk and refreshing, the cold London air biting against her cheeks. She tried to let the walk clear her head, but her thoughts kept circling back to Harry, to the way things had been lately, to how exhausted she felt.

By the time she reached Addy’s building and knocked on the door, she was ready to collapse. Addy flung the door open, already in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her face lighting up when she saw Y/N.

“There she is!” Addy exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Come in, wine queen. We’ve got a couch, snacks, and a whole lot of ranting to do.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of her best friend’s embrace melting away some of the weight she’d been carrying. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“Trust me, I do,” Addy said, ushering her inside. “Now, start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

As Y/N sank into the couch, wine glass in hand and Addy by her side, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—she could figure this out. But for now, she was grateful to have someone who would listen without judgment. Someone who just got it.

The first glass of wine went down smoothly, maybe too smoothly. Y/N poured herself another before Addy even finished her first, and by the time they’d gotten halfway through the second bottle, the conversation had turned raw and unfiltered.

Y/N leaned back into the couch, her cheeks flushed—not just from the wine, but from the surge of emotions she’d been bottling up for weeks. She swirled the last bit of wine in her glass and sighed.

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset anymore,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s not like it’s new. Harry’s been… distant. Detached. Nonchalant, even. Like, I could’ve told him I was leaving tonight, and I swear he wouldn’t have noticed.”

Addy frowned, pulling her knees up onto the couch. “Are you serious? He didn’t even ask where you were going?”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Nope. He probably assumed I’d just be home when he got back—like always. That’s the thing, Addy. He doesn’t notice anything anymore. It’s like I’m… invisible to him.”

Addy’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/N, that’s not okay. You’re not a piece of furniture. You’re his girlfriend. He should be noticing you.”

Y/N stared at her glass, her voice quieter now. “We barely even talk anymore. It’s all ‘Sorry, love, the studio ran late,’ or ‘Can you handle this for me?’ It’s like I’m his roommate, not his partner. And the worst part?” She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “We haven’t been… close. Like, at all. No hugs, no kisses, no… sex. It’s been weeks, Addy. I don’t even know if he wants me anymore.”

Addy’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Y/N muttered, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “And I’ve tried, you know? I’ve dropped hints, I’ve made plans, I’ve even dressed up when he’s home just to get his attention. But it’s like he’s so caught up in everything else that I’m… I’m not even on his radar.”

Addy put her wine glass down and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Hey, listen to me. This isn’t about you. Harry is clearly drowning in his own world, and he’s taking you for granted. That’s on him—it’s just what boys do.”

Y/N leaned her head against Addy’s shoulder, her voice breaking. “I just miss him. I miss us. The way we used to be, you know? When we’d spend hours talking, when he’d grab me and kiss me just because. I miss feeling like I mattered to him.”

Addy tightened her hold, her voice firm. “You do matter, Y/N. He’s just too wrapped up in himself to see it right now. But you deserve better than this—better than feeling like you’re waiting around for scraps of his time.”

Y/N sniffed, her tears finally spilling over. “I don’t even know how to talk to him about it without feeling like I’m nagging. What if he’s just… over it? Over me?”

Addy pulled back slightly, looking Y/N in the eyes. “If he’s over it, then he’s a bloody idiot. But you need to talk to him, Y/N. You can’t keep holding all this in. It’s going to eat you alive.”

Y/N nodded slowly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I just… I’m scared, Addy. What if I say something, and it doesn’t change anything?”

“Then you’ll know where you stand,” Addy said softly. “And you can decide what’s next. But no matter what, I’ve got you. Always.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching but lighter knowing she didn’t have to face this alone. For tonight, though, she let herself sink into the comfort of her best friend and another glass of wine, the weight of her worries just a little easier to bear.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains in Addy’s living room, waking Y/N from a restless sleep. The pull-out couch wasn’t exactly luxurious, but after the wine and emotional exhaustion from the night before, she hadn’t cared.

She rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone on the coffee table, squinting at the screen. A notification from Harry stared back at her, and her heart sank as she opened the text.

Harry:

Would’ve been nice if you told me you weren’t coming home last night.

The words were short and clipped, and Y/N could almost feel the passive-aggressive undertone seeping through. She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of guilt and frustration bubbling up in her chest.

“Seriously?” she muttered under her breath, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

Teddy’s bowl had been full, the apartment was clean, and it wasn’t like she had disappeared without a trace. But still, Harry managed to make her feel like she was the one in the wrong.

She typed out a response, her fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Y/N:

I stayed at Addy’s. I forgot to let you know. Sorry.

She tossed the phone onto the cushion beside her and let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch. Her chest tightened with the familiar ache that had been building for weeks.

“Everything okay?” Addy’s voice came from the kitchen. She appeared moments later, a mug of coffee in hand, still in her pajamas.

Y/N looked up and gave her a weak smile. “Harry texted me. He’s annoyed I didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming home.”

Addy raised an eyebrow as she handed Y/N the coffee. “He’s annoyed? The same Harry who’s been barely speaking to you and blowing off plans left and right?”

Y/N shrugged, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Yeah, that Harry.”

Addy flopped onto the armchair across from her. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. He has no right to guilt-trip you after how he’s been acting. He sure knows how to get under your skin.”

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think he meant to guilt-trip me. It’s just… I don’t know, Addy. Everything feels so off between us. Even little things like this turn into a thing.”

“Because he’s not giving you what you need,” Addy said bluntly. “You wouldn’t feel this way if he was showing up for you. Instead, he’s putting all this effort into everything else and leaving you with scraps. It’s not fair, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip, staring down at the coffee in her hands. “I know it’s not fair. But I still love him, Addy. I just… don’t know how to fix this.”

Addy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You shouldn’t have to fix this alone, babe. He’s your partner. He should be just as invested in making things work. If he’s not, that’s on him, not you.”

Y/N nodded, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. She glanced at her phone again, tempted to say more, but decided against it. Instead she got herself together and said goodbye to Addy before making the short trip back to her home. 

Y/N unlocked the door to her apartment, still groggy and in her pajamas, her head pounding from last night’s wine. She stepped inside and was greeted by Teddy, who meowed loudly as if scolding her for being gone.

“Morning, Teddy,” she muttered, bending down to scratch his head before kicking off her shoes.

When she looked up, she froze. Harry was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, his phone in his hand. It was rare to see him home at this hour, and for a moment, she was too surprised to say anything.

He glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. “Nice of you to finally come home,” he said, his voice calm but with a cutting edge. “I thought maybe we could’ve done something today, but you were gone and by the looks of it, hungover.”

Y/N blinked at him, her exhaustion giving way to irritation. “Are you serious right now?”

Harry leaned back into the couch, raising an eyebrow. “What? I’m just saying, it would’ve been nice to know where you were.”

Her frustration boiled over, the tension that had been building for weeks finally snapping. “Oh, you mean like all the times we made plans, and you bailed on me? Is that what you’re talking about, Harry? Because if we’re keeping track, you’ve canceled on me more times than I can count.”

Harry rolled his eyes, his tone dismissive. “Here we go again.”

“No, seriously,” Y/N said, her voice rising. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be constantly put second? To have you forget about us because you’re busy with your career? And then you have the nerve to act like I’m the one in the wrong because I stayed at Addy’s for one night?”

Harry set his phone down, looking at her with a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “I don’t have time for this right now. You’re blowing things out of proportion. I’m working hard and you’re acting selfish.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth falling open. “Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been here, Harry. I picked up my life and moved here. To be with you. To be close to you. I am here waiting for you, supporting you, picking up the pieces of this relationship while you put me on the back burner. And now I’m selfish because I’m upset that you don’t seem to care anymore?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “I never said I didn’t care. But I can’t drop everything just to make you happy. I have obligations, Y/N. I thought you understood that.”

“I do understand,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “But what about your obligation to me? Or does that not matter anymore?”

The room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Harry looked at her, his expression softening just slightly, as if he hadn’t realized how deep the cracks had gotten.

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “I’m not asking you to drop everything, Harry. I’m asking you to show me that I matter to you. That we matter, even if it’s only for a few hours.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a quick answer, and that silence spoke louder than anything he could’ve said.

With that, she turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Harry sitting on the couch. 

Y/N scooped Teddy up on her way to the bedroom, the orange fluffball letting out a small chirp of protest before settling into her arms. She pressed her face into his fur, taking comfort in his warmth as she turned back to look at Harry, still sitting on the couch.

“Well,” she said bitterly, her voice carrying just enough to make her point, “at least Teddy will spend time with me.”

Harry didn’t respond, his face unreadable as she turned away and headed down the hallway. She pushed open the bedroom door, setting Teddy down gently on the bed. He immediately curled up in his usual spot, his tail flicking as Y/N climbed in beside him.

Pulling the blankets around her, she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. The fight had drained her, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything—Harry’s dismissive tone, the way he had rolled his eyes at her, the frustration and sadness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her chest.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to think of something better, something good. Slowly, her thoughts drifted to the earlier days of their relationship, when everything felt effortless and magical.

Like the time Harry had surprised her with a trip to Disneyland Paris.

She smiled faintly at the memory, her heart aching with nostalgia. It had been just over a year into their relationship, and she’d mentioned in passing one night how she’d always dreamed of going but never had the chance. She hadn’t thought much of it—just another drowsy late-night conversation between them—but Harry had clearly been paying attention.

He’d woken her up early one morning, a mischievous grin on his face. “Pack a bag,” he’d said, barely able to contain his excitement. “We’re going on an adventure.”

She’d laughed, confused but thrilled as he refused to give her any details. It wasn’t until they were at the airport, with two tickets to Paris in his hand, that she realized what he had planned.

“You didn’t,” she had whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

“I did,” he’d replied, his grin widening. “What’s the point of dreaming if you don’t make it happen?”

The trip had been everything she’d hoped for and more. They’d spent the days running from ride to ride, indulging in too many churros, and taking pictures in front of the castle. He’d bought her a pair of Minnie Mouse ears, which she’d worn the entire time despite teasing him for wearing his matching Mickey ears.

And at night, under the glow of the fireworks, he’d wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like they were the only two people in the world.

It was one of the most thoughtful, romantic things anyone had ever done for her, and it had cemented her belief that Harry was someone special—someone who truly saw her.

Now, lying in bed, those memories felt like they belonged to a different time, a different version of them. She glanced down at Teddy, who had dozed off at her side, his soft purring filling the silence.

“How did we get here, Ted?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Teddy didn’t respond, of course, but his presence was steady, a small comfort in the midst of her swirling emotions.

She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as tears silently slipped down her cheeks. She missed the Harry from those days—the one who surprised her with trips, who laughed with her over burnt pancakes, who made her feel like the center of his world.

Y/N stirred slightly when she heard the quiet creak of the bedroom door opening. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady, even as she felt the bed shift under Harry’s weight. He laid down beside her, the mattress dipping slightly as he settled in.

The faint scent of alcohol hit her almost immediately, making her chest tighten. Her eyes opened just a fraction, though she remained on her side, facing away from him. Had he been drinking?

Her heart sank further. Of course, he had every right to do what he wanted—he was an adult, after all. And after the way she’d walked home hungover this morning, she didn’t exactly have the moral high ground to say anything about it.

But still.

The thought of him out, drinking alone or with people who weren’t her, only deepened the ache that had been gnawing at her all day. It wasn’t about the drinking itself—it was about the growing distance between them, the choices they both seemed to be making that pushed them further apart.

She lay there in silence, staring at the faint shadows dancing across the wall. Part of her wanted to roll over, to ask him where he’d been or why he smelled like tequila. But another part of her—the tired, frustrated, heartbroken part—couldn’t muster the energy for another confrontation.

Instead, she stayed still, her hand resting gently on Teddy’s fur as he purred softly in his sleep. She could feel Harry’s presence beside her, close enough to touch, yet it felt like there was an ocean between them.

After a moment, she heard him exhale deeply, the bed shifting slightly as he adjusted his position. She wondered if he was awake, if he was thinking about the fight they’d had earlier, if he even realized how much she missed him.

But no words came. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.

The next morning, Y/N forced herself out of bed despite the heaviness that still lingered from the night before. Teddy trailed behind her as she shuffled around the apartment, gathering her gear for the day’s photo shoots. She threw on a comfortable outfit, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and grabbed her camera bag, trying to shake off the lingering ache in her chest.

Photography had always been her escape. It didn’t matter if she was capturing sweaty concerts or snapping portraits of families; behind the lens, she felt purposeful. Grounded.

The day passed quickly as she moved between locations, her subjects ranging from a young couple celebrating an anniversary to a family of five with a rambunctious toddler. She smiled, laughed, and gave her all to each session, momentarily forgetting the tension waiting for her at home.

When the shoots were done, she wandered the streets of London, her camera still slung over her shoulder. The city was alive with people, the winter air crisp as she strolled past cafés and flower shops. She pretended to savor her independence, stopping to snap a few shots of the bustling streets, but the nagging loneliness in her chest was impossible to ignore.

By the time she returned home, the sun had set, and the apartment was dark and quiet. She dropped her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes as Teddy padded over to greet her.

“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, scooping him up for a quick cuddle. The silence in the apartment felt heavier than usual, and she sighed as she put him down and reached for her phone.

She typed out a quick text to Harry:

Y/N:

Hey, are you going to be home for dinner? I was thinking of ordering Chinese.

She stared at the screen for a moment, willing the typing bubble to appear. But it didn’t. After a few minutes, she gave up and placed the order anyway, opting for her usual dishes.

By the time the food arrived, Harry still hadn’t responded. She ate quietly at the table, Teddy perched on a nearby chair, his curious gaze following every bite.

It wasn’t until later that night that she heard the front door open. Harry walked in, his jacket slung over one arm and his keys jangling in his hand. She turned to look at him from the couch, immediately catching the faint scent of alcohol.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice even. “I texted you earlier. I was going to order Chinese. Thought maybe we could eat together.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression neutral. “I was with the band,” he said, his tone casual as he set his keys on the counter.

Her chest tightened. “I would’ve liked to come out with you,” she said, standing up and crossing her arms. “It’s been ages since we’ve done something together, Harry.”

He looked at her, an edge of defensiveness in his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal, Y/N. Just me and the guys. You wouldn’t have wanted to sit around and listen to us talk about music all night.”

Her frustration bubbled to the surface. “You don’t know that! You didn’t even ask. I would’ve loved to just… be there with you. Spend time with you.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I’m trying to exclude you. I just—”

“You just don’t think about me anymore,” she interrupted, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “Do you even realize how lonely it’s been, Harry? You come home late, you barely talk to me, and now you’re out drinking with the band while I’m here eating takeout by myself.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. “I’m doing the best I can, Y/N. You think this is easy for me?”

“No, Harry, I don’t think it’s easy,” she shot back. “But it’s not supposed to be just you. It’s supposed to be us. And lately, it feels like I’m the only one trying to hold onto that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line, and she felt the familiar ache in her chest grow heavier.

Without another word, she turned and headed toward the bedroom as she had been night after night, and of course with Teddy trailing behind her. 

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, trying to steady the rush of emotions building inside her. Teddy rubbed against her legs, offering silent comfort, but her chest still felt impossibly heavy. She heard Harry’s footsteps approaching and tensed, unsure if she had the energy for yet another argument.

When the door opened, she glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. For a moment, she thought he might apologize—finally acknowledge the hurt he’d been causing her.

But instead, his tone was sharp. “You’re always making this about you, Y/N. Do you ever stop to think about the pressure I’m under? Or is it just easier to sit here and point fingers or bitch at me?”

Her jaw dropped, the sting of his words hitting harder than she expected. “Are you serious right now?” she asked, her voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. “Did you come in here just to insult me?”

Harry’s expression shifted, the fire in his eyes dimming as her words seemed to sink in. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. “No,” he said quietly, his voice faltering. “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her tone cold as she stood and faced him. “If you’re under so much pressure, why don’t you talk to me about it instead of shutting me out and turning to alcohol? Why am I the one who has to sit here, waiting, wondering if you even care anymore?”

Harry looked at her, guilt flashing across his face, but he didn’t have an answer. His silence spoke volumes.

Y/N nodded slowly, her mind made up in that moment. She couldn’t keep living like this, caught in the limbo of his neglect and her own heartache. “You know what? I think I need some space. I think weneed some space.”

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as if to argue, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to fly home and spend some time with my family,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You need to figure out what you really want, Harry. Because this—” she gestured between them—“this isn’t working. And it’s not just on me to fix it.”

Harry hesitated, his expression torn. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I do. And you need to do some real soul searching while I’m gone. Drinking in secret, shutting me out… that’s not going to help you or our failing relationship. You can’t keep running from whatever it is that’s eating away at you.”

He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The lack of resistance stung more than she cared to admit, but it also solidified her decision. If he wasn’t willing to fight for them, she couldn’t keep fighting alone.

Y/N took a deep breath, stepping past him and grabbing her suitcase from the closet. As she started packing, she felt a strange mix of sadness and relief.

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a knot in her stomach. The decision she had made the night before still felt right, but that didn’t make it any easier. She moved through the motions quietly, packing her suitcase and making sure Teddy had enough room in his carrier. The orange fluffball meowed pitifully as she zipped him inside, his big eyes watching her with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“I know, buddy,” she said softly, rubbing a hand over the top of the carrier. “We need this. Trust me.”

The cab ride to the airport was quiet, the city slipping past in a blur. She avoided looking at her phone, unwilling to see if Harry had texted or called. She doubted he had.

Hours later, she landed in upstate New York, the cold January air biting at her as she stepped outside the small airport. Her cousin Mia was already there, leaning against her car, arms crossed and a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

As soon as Y/N walked over, dragging her suitcase and holding Teddy’s carrier, Mia’s sharp gaze zeroed in on her. “Okay, spill. What the fuck happened? And why did you just up and leave your international pop star boyfriend?”

Y/N sighed, her breath fogging in the icy air as she loaded Teddy into the backseat. “Can we maybe not do this in the parking lot?”

“Nope.” Mia slammed the trunk shut after tossing in Y/N’s suitcase and leaned against the car door, refusing to budge. “You flew across the Atlantic with your cat. That screams big drama, and I need the tea, like, yesterday.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair as she leaned against the car next to Mia. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“It always is,” Mia replied, her tone both sarcastic and supportive. “But I’m gonna need more than that. Did he cheat? Is he secretly married? What’s the deal?”

Y/N shot her a glare. “No, nothing like that. He’s just… he’s been distant. Forgetting plans, working all the time, barely talking to me. It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore.”

Mia tilted her head, studying her cousin. “Okay, so he’s an idiot. Got it. But why leave? Why not just, I don’t know, call him out on his bullshit?”

“I did,” Y/N said, her voice cracking slightly. “I tried, Mia. I tried so many times. And last night, he…” She paused, swallowing hard. “He came home smelling like alcohol again, and when I told him I would’ve liked to go out with him, he said it wasn’t a big deal, like I didn’t matter. And then he had the nerve to call me selfish when I got upset.”

Mia’s jaw dropped, and she raised a hand. “Oh, hell no. He did not.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening as the memory of the fight replayed in her mind. “So, I told him I needed space. That I was coming home for a bit, and he needed to figure out what he wants. And he just… let me go.”

Mia let out a long whistle, shaking her head. “Okay, first of all, good for you for leaving. Second of all, what an absolute dumbass. Like, I’m sure he’s charming and hot and whatever, but damn, girl, he doesn’t deserve you acting like this.”

Y/N let out a small laugh despite herself. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him,” Mia said with a shrug. “I know you. And if he’s making you feel like shit, then he’s not doing his job as your boyfriend.”

Y/N nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter for the first time in days. “Thanks, Mia.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mia said, opening the car door. “We’re gonna fix this. Either he pulls his head out of his ass, or we find you a hot new boyfriend who actually knows how to treat you right. Deal?”

Y/N smiled, climbing into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

As Mia started the car and pulled out of the lot, Y/N leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the snowy landscape. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N poured herself into rediscovering the things she loved, the parts of herself that had been lost in the haze of her strained relationship. She spent her days hiking the trails of upstate New York, taking in the crisp air and breathtaking views, her camera always in tow. At night, she indulged in greasy slices of pizza from her favorite childhood spot, the simple comfort of it reminding her of easier times.

She found herself smiling more, laughing louder, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was living for herself again. The weight that had pressed on her chest back in London had begun to lift, replaced with a growing sense of independence and self-assurance.

One night, Mia announced that it was time for a proper girls’ night out. “You’ve been hiking and taking artsy photos long enough,” Mia teased, rummaging through Y/N’s suitcase. “We’re hitting the clubs tonight. You, me, and some dangerously overpriced cocktails.”

Y/N laughed, watching as Mia held up a dress she hadn’t worn in months. “I don’t know, Mia. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scene again.”

Mia rolled her eyes, tossing the dress at her. “Nonsense. You need this. Trust me.”

Hours later, Y/N found herself in a crowded club, the bass thumping so hard she could feel it in her chest. She’d forgotten how freeing it felt to just let go, to dance without a care in the world, the swirl of neon lights and the buzz of tequila making everything feel lighter.

Mia kept her entertained with her usual wit, sharing hilarious, sometimes borderline chaotic stories about her own life. Y/N laughed until her sides hurt, her worries melting away with every sip of her drink.

“Okay, okay,” Mia said, holding up her hands as they stood by the bar for a breather. “You remember that guy I told you about—the one with the weird obsession with his bonsai trees?”

Y/N snorted into her drink. “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Mia continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “turns out he didn’t just have bonsai trees. He had dollhouses. Like, full-on, hand-painted dollhouses. I walked into his apartment, and it was like stepping into a miniaturized version of my nightmare.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was,” Mia said with a dramatic sigh. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve sworn off dating guys who call themselves ‘artists.’”

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the kind of deep, genuine laughter that made Y/N’s cheeks ache. She hadn’t felt this carefree in months.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself dancing again, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music. She felt alive, untethered, and—for the first time in a long time—free.

Mia nudged her at one point, grinning mischievously. “See? I told you this was a good idea.”

Y/N nodded, her smile wide as she looked around the room. “Yeah. You were right. I needed this.”

And in that moment, as she twirled on the dance floor with her best friend cousin by her side, she realized that she was falling in love again—not with someone else, but with herself.

The morning light streamed through the windows as Y/N stood over the stove, flipping bacon while Mia chopped fruit at the counter. The apartment smelled of coffee and breakfast, the comforting sounds of sizzling and light chatter filling the space.

A sudden knock at the door broke the rhythm.

Both girls froze, glancing at each other. “You expecting anyone?” Y/N asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” Mia replied, setting the knife down. “Probably Amazon or maybe bonsai guy finally returning to plead his case.” She smirked and tossed the dish towel over her shoulder.

“Go see who it is,” Y/N said, flipping the bacon. “And hurry back before this burns.”

“On it.” Mia walked to the door, muttering about early-morning interruptions as she swung it open.

She froze, her hand gripping the door, her mouth falling open. “Holy fuck,” she said, her voice loud and full of shock.

“What?” Y/N called, turning away from the stove, confused by Mia’s tone. “Who is it?”

When Mia didn’t answer, Y/N wiped her hands on her pajama pants and walked toward the door. Her heart started to race, a strange tension settling in her chest.

As she reached the entryway, she saw him.

Harry.

He stood there in the hallway, looking slightly disheveled, his hair messy, his coat hanging open. His expression was a mix of determination and something softer, something that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat.

Their eyes met, and for a long moment, the world seemed to stop.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.

She froze, her hands still at her sides, her mind racing as she tried to process the fact that he was here—standing on the doorstep of Mia’s apartment in upstate New York.

From the kitchen, Mia called out, “Do I keep the bacon going, or are we about to have a soap opera moment?”

But Y/N didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed locked on Harry, her chest tightening as she waited for him to say something more.

Y/N’s shock quickly gave way to a mix of confusion and irritation as she stared at Harry, standing there like he belonged on her cousin’s doorstep in the middle of upstate New York. Her arms crossed instinctively, and she narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. “How did you even find me?”

He shifted on his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. “You still had your location on,” he said simply, his voice calm. Y/n felt a little dumb for not realizing she forgot to turn that off. Even then, he had connections and could��ve easily found out where she was. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her confusion boiling with frustration. “You tracked me?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or texts and your phone went straight to voicemail,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger bubbling up. “If you’re here to try and convince me to come home. I’m not going back.”

“I’m not asking you to come home,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”

She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of an ulterior motive, her mind racing. Before she could respond, Mia’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Y/N, for the love of God, if you’re going to yell at him, do it outside,” Mia called from the kitchen, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have neighbors, and I don’t want them thinking we’re hosting some kind of reality TV reunion in here.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, letting out a frustrated breath as she glanced back at Mia, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed with an amused expression.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, turning back to Harry. She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she barely noticed as she faced Harry again.

The cold morning air hung around them as they walked down the quiet, woodsy street, the crunch of gravel under their shoes the only sound at first. Y/N kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her jaw clenched as she waited for Harry to speak. He walked beside her, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his head slightly bowed.

Finally, after a few minutes, he broke the silence. “I royally fucked up,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I took you for granted, Y/N. I thought… I thought you’d always be there, no matter how much I messed up, no matter how distant I got. And that was wrong.”

His words lingered in the crisp air, but Y/N didn’t respond. She kept her eyes ahead, her steps brisk and determined.

When he didn’t say more, she stopped abruptly and turned to him, her voice sharp with frustration and hurt. “You’re right it was wrong, Harry. Do you even realize how much you’ve hurt me? How lonely I’ve felt these past few months?”

Harry stopped too, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Y/N took a deep breath, her words spilling out in a torrent. “You’ve been more intimate with the studio than you’ve been with me. Do you know how humiliating it is to feel like you’re competing with someone’s job? To watch you pour your passion into everything else?”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And the worst part,” she continued, her voice breaking, “is that I thought… I thought we were heading toward something real, Harry. I thought maybe you’d propose soon, that we’d start building a life together or a family. But now? Now it feels like we’re just heading for a breakup.”

Her words hung heavy between them, the raw honesty of her pain hitting like a punch to the gut. Harry finally looked up, his expression anguished, but he still didn’t speak.

“You didn’t even fight for me when I left,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “You just let me go, like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

“I—” he started, but she held up a hand.

“No. Don’t say anything yet. Just… listen.”

He nodded silently, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I love you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I can’t keep doing this if you’re not going to meet me halfway. And if you can’t give me that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

The words came out heavier than she expected, the weight of them settling in her chest as she stared at him. For the first time since they’d started walking, Harry’s eyes locked on hers, a mix of guilt and something else—something she couldn’t quite place—flickering in his gaze.

But he didn’t interrupt. He just stood there, listening, the gravity of her words sinking in. And for once, Y/N felt like he truly heard her.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands still buried deep in his coat pockets. He looked at her, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a long breath.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he admitted quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. “Except that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, her arms still crossed as she waited for more. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook so easily.

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been… I’ve been a bloody idiot, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was messing this up until you left. And even then, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

Her chest tightened, but she didn’t speak. She wanted him to get it all out.

“So, I—” He hesitated, his cheeks reddening slightly as he looked back at her. “I talked to my mum.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mum about us?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know who else to go to. She called me clueless—which, fair enough—but she also gave me some advice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching despite her frustration. “Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

Harry’s gaze softened, his voice dropping. “She told me to stop thinking about what’s easy for me and start thinking about what’s right for us. She said if I couldn’t figure out how to show you how much you mean to me, then I don’t deserve to have you in my life.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting at the honesty in his voice.

“She also told me I’m a terrible communicator,” he added with a faint, self-deprecating smile. “And that I’ve probably made you feel like shit more than once without even realizing it.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with both irritation and something softer.

Harry nodded, his expression serious again. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N. I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. But I’m here because I don’t want to lose you. I want to be better—for you, for us. I just… I need a chance to prove it.”

She stood there, the cold air biting at her cheeks as she searched his face. There was something different about him now, something that felt raw and unguarded. She wasn’t sure if it was enough, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like he was truly seeing her.

She didn’t reply right away, letting his words hang in the air as she turned them over in her mind. Finally, she sighed and looked down at the ground. “You’ve got a lot to prove, Harry. And I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as the tension in her shoulders began to ease. She looked at Harry, his eyes still searching hers with an intensity that made her heart twist. Despite everything, despite the hurt and frustration, she couldn’t deny how much she missed him.

“I really missed you,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling just enough to make him lean closer. “Even when I was mad at you—even when I thought I couldn’t stand the sight of you—all I wanted to do was just… jump on you and kiss you. Hug you.”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise and relief washing over his face. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I do,” she said, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “I love you, Harry. That’s why this hurt so much. You’ve always been my person, and for a while there, I didn’t feel like yours anymore.”

His face softened, and he took a tentative step closer, his voice low. “You are, Y/N. You’ll always be my person. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t.”

The sincerity in his voice melted the last of her defenses, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You’re so lucky I love you. But you better believe I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I’m ready,” Harry said with a soft smile.

Y/N tilted her head, her smile widening as a thought crossed her mind. “You know, I’m a little embarrassed now.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, letting out a laugh, “I have to go back inside and tell Mia that we made up. And trust me, she was rooting for full-blown drama. She’s probably already drafting a speech about why I should dump you.”

Harry chuckled, his first genuine laugh of the morning. “Think she’ll let me stay for breakfast, or is that asking too much?”

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck. But if you charm her enough, she might give you a piece of bacon.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at charming people,” he teased, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him, finally letting herself relax in his embrace. She rested her head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like things might actually be okay.

“Come on,” she said after a moment, pulling back slightly. “Let’s go face the dragon.”

Harry grinned, threading his fingers through hers. “Lead the way.”

As they approached the house, Y/N noticed a familiar figure standing in the window. Mia was leaning against the sill, a mug of coffee in her hands, her face a mix of amusement and curiosity as she stared out at them.

“Looks like she’s already got commentary locked and loaded,” Y/N muttered, glancing at Harry with a smirk.

“Should I be scared?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” Y/N replied with a grin.

When they stepped onto the porch, Mia was already opening the door, one hand still clutching her coffee. She looked them over, her eyes flicking between Y/N’s flushed face and Harry’s sheepish expression.

“So,” Mia began, drawing out the word with a smirk. “I’m guessing you two worked it out, considering the lack of yelling and door slamming.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we talked. You’re not getting the drama you were hoping for.”

Mia shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Honestly? I’m kind of happy. As much as I love you, Y/N, I also really love walking around my house in my underwear. Having you here has seriously cramped my vibe.”

Harry stifled a laugh as Y/N gawked at her cousin. “Oh, my God, Mia!”

“What?” Mia said, grinning as she stepped aside to let them in. “I’m just saying, you two reconciling works out for everyone. Love wins, and I get my space back. It’s a win-win.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she stepped into the house with Harry following behind. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you love me,” Mia said with a wink, heading back to the kitchen. “Now, who’s hungry? And Harry, if you’re sticking around, you better pull your weight. Bacon doesn’t flip itself, pop star.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, who was clearly trying not to laugh as he hung up his coat. “Welcome to the family,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, leaning closer to whisper, “I think I’m more scared of Mia than I was of losing you.”

Y/N smacked his arm playfully, but the smile on her face lingered as they followed Mia to the kitchen. 

[aesthetikins]

my hot take as someone who was there when kff was happening is that none of the things people say are kff things really are. they werent even started by people who WERE kff

"kinnie" was an anti-kin pejorative that otherkin started using to defang the insult

kin as a verb was in use years before the concept of kff came around. i knew hundreds of otherkin who used it that way because, as you said, its just a natural way of speaking. it communicates the idea of actively identifying as your kintype clearly and very quickly

same with kin lists. bona fide polykin were making ranked kin lists before kff came about. some polykin with a lot of kintypes just have kintype they feel weakly connected to or only rarely shift to

people are so obsessed with gatekeeping people playing pretend that they have completely pounded actually history into dust and imagined a new version of the past where none of this was started or used by identities they would see as legitimate. unfortunately most of the blogs that were there to see it happen have been deleted or abandoned, mostly because of the huge amount of discourse during 2016/2017 that ended up with a lot of people being harassed/sent suicide bait/etc. the people who would remember are largely gone from tumblr now

tldr: these werent started by kff and are not solely kff practices. they were started by non-voluntary otherkin and kff picked them up because they were in widespread use on tumblr. people are so concerned about avoiding looking like a kff that theyre chosing to change the history of these words

'I kin x' is less clunky linguistically and we need to stop assuming people are kff just because they use kin as a verb. Its a very natural way to say it and I struggle to phrase it in other ways. In general people need to stop assuming that red flags for kff (such as kin as a verb, and ranking how much they feel their kintypes, saying kinnie) and assuming they definitely are kff. Languages and practices started by kff have been picked up by genuine otherkin especially younger ones who come into the community and dont know how to tell otherkin from kff. They still identify as their kintypes even if they copy kff practices.

People dont come into the community with a community history degree.

[viagracex]

okay here me out on this - you’re a youtuber and tiktoker who’s friends with the boys and always had a little crush on george, and he you, but you’re both cowards. it’s valentine’s day coming up and all the other boys have dates/are away and so are your girl friends so you say to george hey let’s do a friend v day like valentine’s day or smthn because he’s sad he doesn’t have a gf, he comes to your flat, you cook, watch rom coms, drink a lot of wine and you play games but you accidentally play a couples game 😉😉😉😉 and you end up doing the deed and in the end both agree to go on an ACTUAL valentines date the next day hehehehehe

A Valentine's Between Friends

george clarke x fem!reader

summary: a friendly valentine's evening leads to anything but…

warnings: sexual content, smut (MDNI)

3.4k words (may have got a bit carried away)

note: Anon, thank you so much for the request. It's my first time writing smut so I hope you like it, sorry if it's awkward and cringy. If it sucks let me know and would love to get more requests.

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

It was the sort of cold February evening that made you want to curl up with a blanket, a glass of wine, and pretend the world outside didn’t exist. The sort of evening that made you consider just not getting out of bed at all. Except for the fact that your phone was pinging with messages from the boys.

You groaned into your pillow, staring at the screen.

Chris had a date with someone he met on one of his spontaneous trips. Arthur was spending Valentine’s Day with a new girlfriend who he met through TikTok. Even your best friend was off on a family holiday. leaving you all alone.

You could already feel that aching hole in your chest. Valentine’s Day, of all days, was particularly terrible when you were single. The entire world seemed to be a constant reminder of the relationships you didn’t have. Of the fact that your phone was always empty, save for messages from your mates.

But then, there was George.

You had always had a soft spot for him. It started back when you all met, years ago, the banter, the cheeky comments, the laughs, the way he made you feel like you were always in on some secret joke. And now, well... now, it was just confusing. It had become a game of will-they-won’t-they. Neither of you ever crossed the line—too much fear of what might happen if you did. But god, how you both danced around it.

You hated the idea of spending Valentine’s Day alone, and so did he. So why not just make it a thing? A friend Valentine’s Day—no expectations, no awkwardness. You’d keep it chill.

You shot him a quick text.

“Wanna have an anti-Valentine's Day? I'll cook, we can drink wine, watch rom-coms and maybe play some games. Neither of us have plans, so why not? Let me know xx"

It didn’t take long before his reply came through.

"That sounds like exactly what I need. I’ll be over in an hour."

It was almost comically easy. But as the hour passed, you found yourself slightly nervous, unsure of what to expect. Was this just a chill night? Or was there something more lurking under the surface? You tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on getting everything ready.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, the sizzle of garlic in the pan mingling with the rich aroma of tomatoes—a simple, hearty meal to pair perfectly with the wine you’d bought. As you laid the table, each placement was a silent testament to the years of friendship that had intricately laced your lives together.

The sound of the doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. George stood there, hands buried deep in his pockets, his smile shy but genuine.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping into the warmth of your flat, the cold nipping at his heels. "This is a surprise. Smells like you've outdone yourself."

You chuckled, "Microwave meals are tragic on Valentine’s, even for friends."

He let out a laugh, sitting down at the table. "Fair enough. This looks pretty decent, actually. I’m impressed."

The evening unfolded with an ease that only true friendship could afford. Dinner was a merry affair, filled with laughter and nostalgic exchanges about past escapades with the boys. As the wine flowed, the barriers of mere friendship seemed to melt away, replaced by a tender connection that neither of you had dared to explore.

He grinned, taking off his jacket and hanging it up, glancing around your flat. "I’ve got to admit, this is a bit of a shocker. You’re actually being… domestic?"

"Well, thank you," you replied, smiling. "I even put some effort into it, just for you." You pulled the wine out of the fridge, uncorking it and pouring another glass for both of you.

The conversation flowed easily after that—easy banter, jokes about past video shoots, hilarious stories about the boys. But beneath the jokes, there was something soft lingering in the air. It was the unsaid, the little sparks you both danced around every time you spent time together.

As the evening wore on, the wine started to loosen your inhibitions. You moved to the couch, both of you nestled into the cushions, a blanket draped across your legs. The rom-com marathon began, and you both laughed at the ridiculous plot twists, snickered at the corny lines, but neither of you could ignore the growing tension between you.

"Should we play a game?" you asked, glancing at the coffee table where you had set out a box of games, most of them silly. "Something to pass the time? No pressure, I promise."

George gave you smile. "Yeah, I’m game. As long as it’s not too weird."

You grinned. "Oh, it’s not that weird. It’s just a couples game."

He raised an eyebrow. "Couples game? What, like Truth or Dare, but for couples?"

"Exactly," you replied with a laugh, though your heart was now beating in your throat. "But it’s mostly silly stuff. You know, harmless. Just a fun thing to do on Valentines."

You could see his hesitation, the subtle shift in his posture. "Alright. But I’m not kissing you, just so we’re clear."  He finished his sentence with a cheeky wink.

You snorted. "Who said anything about kissing?"

With a shake of his head, George grabbed the card deck, and you both started drawing cards one after another, each more ridiculous than the last. The questions were harmless, at first: "What's your partner's worst habit?" and "What's their favourite food?" The game seemed lighthearted enough. Until it wasn't.

George drew the next card, his fingers trembling slightly as he flipped it over. The room suddenly felt too warm, the air thick with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he read the card aloud: "Describe your most vivid fantasy involving the person sitting across from you."

Your eyes widened, and you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body. The playful atmosphere evaporated in an instant, replaced by a crackling intensity that made your skin tingle. George's gaze met yours, his pupils dilating ever so slightly.

"We don't have to-" you started to say, but George cut you off with a subtle shake of his head. His voice low and husky. "No, it's okay. I want to answer."

"It's always the same dream," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "We're alone on a deserted beach at sunset. The sky is painted in shades of orange and pink, and the waves are gently lapping at our feet."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

He continued, his voice growing more confident. "You're wearing that white sundress I love, the one that shows off your shoulders. Your hair is loose, blowing in the sea breeze. I reach out to brush a strand from your face, and suddenly we're so close I can feel your breath on my lips."

The room was dead silent now, and you’re hanging onto George's every word.

Your heart raced as George's words painted a vivid picture, one that mirrored your own secret fantasies. The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity.

"And then?" you whispered, barely trusting your voice.

George's eyes darkened. "Then I kiss you. Softly at first, but it quickly becomes more. My hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. You taste like salt and cherries."

You felt a flush creep up your neck, your skin tingling with each word.

"We fall back onto the sand," he continued, his voice low and intense. "The waves crash around us, but we don't care. All that matters is the feel of your skin against mine, the sound of your breath catching as I-"

George's voice trailed off, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air between you. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each rapid beat of your heart. You realized you were holding your breath, your body leaning towards George unconsciously.

"As you what?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your pulse in your ears.

George swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing. He looked almost pained, as if continuing would shatter some invisible barrier between fantasy and reality. But his eyes, dark and intense, never left yours.

"As I trace every curve of your body," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. "As I worship you with my hands, my lips, my entire being. In that moment, you're my entire world."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, your skin erupting in goose bumps.

The silence that followed was deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the heat radiating from your flushed skin. George's confession hung in the air between you, electric and charged with possibility.

"I..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly respond to such a raw, intimate revelation?

George's eyes searched yours, a mix of vulnerability and desire swirling in their depths. "Your turn," he said softly, pushing the deck of cards towards you with trembling fingers.

Your hand hovered over the stack, suddenly aware of how this next card could change everything. With a deep breath, you flipped it over.

"If you could do anything right now, without consequences, what would it be?"

The question seemed to mock you, daring you to voice the thoughts that had been building since George began speaking. You looked up, meeting his gaze once more. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

"I..." you started again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I would make your fantasy a reality."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with implication. George's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly rose from your seat. Your heart pounded as you crossed the short distance between you, each step feeling like an eternity. George's gaze followed your movement, a mix of anticipation and disbelief etched across his features.

As you reached him, you gently took the card from his hands, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Then, with a courage you didn't know you possessed, you lowered yourself onto his lap, your legs straddling his.

George's hands instinctively moved to your waist, steading you.

"We may not have a sunset, but..." Your voice trailed off as you brought your face closer to his, your lips mere inches apart. "We can make our own paradise right here."

George's breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your waist. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you hovered on the precipice of something monumental. Then, with a soft groan, George closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

It was everything you had imagined and more. His lips were soft yet insistent, moving against yours with a passion that made your head spin. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

George's hands roamed your back, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. When you finally broke apart for air, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together.

"I've wanted this for so long," George murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His hands cupped your face gently, thumbs stroking your cheeks as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

You leaned into his touch, your heart racing. "Me too," you whispered back, surprised by the intensity of your own feelings.

George's eyes searched yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability swirling in their depths. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in again, this time placing a soft, reverent kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Each touch of his lips sent sparks through your body.

When he finally reclaimed your lips, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You melted into him, your bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper, as if the question was as much for him as it was for you.

You leaned in slightly, your breath mingling with his. "I’m sure," you murmured, before closing the distance between you with a kiss.

It started soft—tentative. But as the seconds stretched, it deepened, becoming more urgent. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the warmth of his chest against yours, the rise and fall of his breath matching your own.

The world outside seemed to vanish. The only thing that mattered was the press of his lips against yours, the way his fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending sparks of electricity through your body. His touch was gentle at first, but as you shifted against him, something shifted in the air between you—a quiet hunger that neither of you could deny any longer.

"George," you whispered against his lips, a soft plea, and it was all it took. His hands moved to your face, cupping it as he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if he was losing himself to the moment.

You felt the intensity rise in him, in the way his hands wandered to the back of your neck, tugging gently, pulling you even closer. The taste of the wine mixed with the warmth of his mouth, and you could no longer tell where you ended and he began.

"Are you really sure?" he asked again, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes. I want this."

With that, the dam broke. His lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a fiery path behind. You shivered at the feeling, the electricity between you both undeniable. Each kiss, each touch, built the tension higher, and soon, it felt like the only thing you needed was him.

The wine seemed to fuel your courage as much as it fueled your desire, and soon you were both lost in the moment, not thinking about anything but the way your bodies responded to each other. His hands roamed freely, each touch sending your pulse racing, while you met him with equal eagerness, your fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him.

As things heated up, you both moved to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. George's eyes roamed over you appreciatively as you lay back on the bed. He joined you, his warm body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in another passionate kiss. His hands explored your curves, teasing and caressing. You arched into his touch, wanting more.

George trailed kisses down your neck and chest, taking his time to savor every inch of you. When his mouth found your breast, you gasped in pleasure. His tongue swirled around your nipple as his hand kneaded your other breast. The dual sensations sent waves of arousal through you.

You ran your fingers through his hair, urging him lower. He obliged, kissing down your stomach until he settled between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive flesh had you moaning. He explored you thoroughly

George's lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your inner thighs. His warm breath against your sensitive skin made you shiver with anticipation. When his tongue finally made contact with your center, you gasped at the sensation. He started with slow, teasing licks before focusing his attention on your most sensitive spots.

As George's ministrations intensified, you felt waves of pleasure building inside you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as your hips rocked against his mouth. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come hither motion that had you seeing stars. Thel stimulation quickly pushed you over the edge into a powerful climax that left you breathless.

Before you could fully recover, George was kissing his way back up your body. You pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hands roamed over George's muscular back as he settled between your thighs. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, igniting a fresh wave of desire. George gazed into your eyes, seeking silent permission. You nodded, pulling him closer.

He entered you slowly, both of you gasping at the exquisite sensation of finally being joined. George stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then he began to move, setting a slow pace that had you arching beneath him.

Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, finding a rhythm that built the pleasure higher and higher. George's lips found yours in a searing kiss as he quickened his thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle and causing you both to cry out.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared passion - soft moans, gasps of pleasure, skin sliding against skin. The walls seemed to disappear, as if they were the only two people in the world. George's hips moved faster, his thrusts deep and primal, as if he couldn't get enough of her. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping at her collarbone, urging her on.

You met his gaze, your breath ragged and your chest heaving. "George... I... I'm..."

He kissed you again, hard and desperate, silencing your words as he drove himself deeper inside you. "I've got you," he murmured against your lips. "Let go."

That was all the encouragement you needed. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. The intensity of your climax sent shockwaves through your body, your inner muscles clenching around George rhythmically. He groaned at the sensation, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. With a few final deep thrusts, George let out a guttural moan as he found his peak, trembling above you.

You both lay there panting, bodies intertwined and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. George's weight on top of you felt comforting rather than stifling. Sliding out, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft with emotion. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead tenderly before capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

"That was..." he trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

"Yeah," you agreed breathlessly. "It really was."

George rolled to the side, pulling you close against him. You nestled into the crook of his arm, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. A comfortable silence fell between you as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

George's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, sending pleasant tingles through your body. You tilted your head up to look at him, taking in his tousled hair and flushed cheeks. His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and contentment.

You both lay there for a moment, just breathing, both aware of the shift that had happened—of the line you had just crossed, and the new, thrilling tension that hung in the air. Neither of you spoke for a long time, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy.

"Well," he said, voice thick, "that… wasn’t how I expected the night to go."

You chuckled softly, catching your breath. "Yeah, me neither. But…"

"But?" he prompted, his eyes locking with yours, intense and filled with something new.

"But, maybe we should just go with it?"

He smiled at you, his lips curving mischievously. But when George finally broke the brief silence, it was with a soft chuckle.

"So… tomorrow," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. "I guess we're going on that Valentine's date after all."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. "I guess we are," you replied with a smile, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were soft and full of a warmth that made your heart flutter. As his eyes met yours, you knew that everything had changed.

Outside, the night continued on, unaware of the transformation happening within the walls of your flat. But inside, on this unexpected Valentine's Day, you found yourself celebrating not just the day itself, but the beginning of something new and exciting. As you snuggled closer to him, your head finding its now familiar spot on his shoulder, you both agreed to take a leap into the unknown together. This was more than just a date on the calendar - it was a promise for the future.

Valentine's Day was no longer a dreaded reminder of what you lacked, but a joyous celebration of what could be.