#stop writing perfect songs challenge

[lost-in-reveriie]

hozier, the man that you are

[witchywithwhiskey]

so glittery

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x sugar baby!female reader

summary: when your sugar daddy returns from a long business trip on christmas eve, you're waiting for him—on your knees in the prettiest lingerie money could buy—and he's just as happy to see you as you are him.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, established relationship, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, hand jobs, brief masturbation (m), very brief anal play (f receiving), light bdsm, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names (princess, baby, pretty present), sex with feelings, aftercare, very happy/fluffy ending

word count: 5.1k

a/n: here's my december 10 entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge and it's only like 4 days late 😅 i used the prompt: "I'm your present." i've been wanting to write a sugar daddy steve rogers fic for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity!! also, the title is inspired by the kacey musgraves christmas song, "glittery." hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Excitement was an effervescent cocktail of glorious anticipation and glittery joy, thrumming through your body and throbbing between your thighs while you checked your makeup in the hall mirror before lowering yourself to your knees in perfect view of the front door. 

Your fingers distractedly smoothed over the lace and ribbons and bows that wrapped around your body, and you had to stop yourself from bouncing where you sat while you strained your ears to hear the sounds of the elevator. You couldn’t wait for the man you were expecting to walk through the door. It had been too long since you’d last seen him.

Your sugar daddy, Steve Rogers, had been on a business trip oversees for nearly a month, and you were the first person he’d see after returning to New York City on Christmas Eve. He’d texted you only moments ago to let you know he was in the elevator on the way up to his penthouse apartment, where you waited for him.

When you’d planned your Christmas Eve reunion together, he’d had very specific requests for how he wanted you to be waiting for him, and you’d been all too happy to indulge in his demands. It sent another pulse of excitement through your body when you thought about how Steve would react when he walked in and found you already on your knees for him.

Seconds later, the front door of the penthouse swung open and Steve’s reaction didn’t disappoint. 

The moment the gloriously handsome man laid eyes on you, he came to an abrupt halt, one hand still on the door while his blue eyes were riveted on only you. Steve stood in the open doorway for a long minute while his gaze feasted on the sight you presented to him. 

A bright, beaming smile spread across your face the longer he stared, your body warming under his gaze as you struggled not to look down at yourself. You already knew how you looked. You’d spent a ridiculously long time searching for the perfect set of lingerie, which you’d purchased at Steve’s behest—and with his black Amex. 

But after all that time searching, you were happy with what you’d found. The lingerie was tastefully Christmas themed, hugging your curves in red silk and lace. Little white bows accented different parts of your body, with one nestled perfectly between your tits. 

Steve’s eyes seemed stuck on that particular bow, watching your tits bouncing lightly in the ribbons and lace as your breathing picked up with your excitement. Anticipation was bubbling champagne in your veins, and you leaned forward slightly, arching your back and giving your sugar daddy an even more enticing look at your body. 

The movement seemed to snap Steve out of whatever spell he’d been under because he cleared his throat and finally stepped further into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He tossed his keys onto table in the entryway and shed his coat, hanging it up on the door to the closet without taking his eyes off you.

His silent staring gave you time to properly look at your sugar daddy for the first time in weeks. 

Steve was dressed casually in a soft-looking black sweater and dark gray wool slacks. His broad shoulders filled out the comfy looking fabric, while the sleeves of the sweater were pushed up slightly to reveal his toned forearms. You took notice of his toned legs briefly, but you couldn’t keep your gaze away from his handsome face for too long.

Your sugar daddy’s blue eyes were sparkling, even as his gaze continued to darken with lust. His mouth was curving into a delicious little smirk, and his lips looked impossibly pink against the pale skin of his clean-shaven jaw. With his blond hair swept back from his face, you had the urge to rake your fingers through it and drag him to you for a kiss.

“Now, what do we have here?” Steve rumbled, prowling further into the apartment until he stood just in front of you. 

He was so close, you had to crane your neck back to look up at him, which only made your body tighten with excitement. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, and though his stance was casual, you could practically feel the lust radiating off him.

Steve quirked an eyebrow expectantly, and you finally found your tongue to offer the greeting he was expecting.

“I’m your present.”

The words had been one of Steve’s requests for your reunion, and even though he’d known they were coming, you enjoyed the slight hitch of his breath and the way his eyes narrowed slightly on you—and the way his cock twitched to life in the front of his pants. 

Already, you were growing wet enough to leak into the panties of the expensive lingerie you’d purchased, your arousal an insistent pulse in your core. You shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together while you tried to keep your gaze fixed on Steve’s face and not let it drop to the thickening length so close to your face.

“Such a pretty present,” Steve cooed sweetly, reaching out and stroking his thumb over your cheek. 

The pad of his finger moved lower, running along your lip. You couldn’t help yourself—you ducked forward, taking his thumb into your mouth and giving him an affectionate little suckle. 

Steve’s eyes darkened further, his voice dropping into a low, husky tone as he went on, “And how do pretty presents say hello?”

You smirked, your body warming with anticipation as Steve pulled his thumb from between your lips. His hand slipped back into his pocket, curling like it was wrapping around something, and leaving you to stare up his large body from your position at his feet. 

Leaning forward, you held Steve’s gaze while you pressed your soft cheek against the lap of his slacks, feeling his cock twitch beneath the thick wool. Your mouth spread into a wide, sultry smile and you turned your face to brush a kiss against Steve’s hard length, reveling in the way it jumped beneath your lips, like his body was greeting you back.

“Hi, daddy,” you purred, your eyes fixed on Steve’s while you gave his cock another kiss through his pants.

“Good girl,” he rumbled in a pleased tone, sending glimmering sparkles of pleasure through your body as you basked in his praise. His fingers smoothed over your cheek and then his hand was skimming down to your arm until he caught your hand. “Up you go, princess.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief as you stood, grateful for Steve’s big hand holding you steady as your legs wobbled, even after such a short time on your knees. You leaned against his broad chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his expensive cologne as your legs regained their strength. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you whispered sweetly into Steve’s sweater. 

He rumbled a pleased sound in his throat, his other arm circling your waist and holding you close, your hands clasped together against his chest. For a moment, the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence, and it settled something inside you, the tangible reminder that Steve was finally back after he’d been gone for so long.

Then, gently, your sugar daddy eased you away from his body, his bright blue eyes raking down your form and taking in the full effect of your lingerie while you were standing. If the pleased smile curing his lips was any indication, he enjoyed the outfit you’d chosen. 

“Gimme a twirl, princess,” Steve commanded in a gruff voice, and you could practically hear the barely leashed desire in the richness of his tone. “Show daddy this sexy little outfit you wore for me.”

With a giddy laugh, you spun in a circle for your sugar daddy, your fingers clinging to Steve’s. He lifted his arm, keeping your hands connected above your head as you twirled for him, giving him a full view of the Christmasy outfit you’d worn for him. 

When you were back facing him, you stumbled into his chest, still laughing lightly as you looked up at him, your gaze expectant. 

“Do you like it, daddy?”

Steve’s big hands slid down your sides, skimming over the ribbons and bows, feeling the lace and silk swathing your body. His fingers dug into your soft curves, groping you shamelessly while he grinned at you. 

“I love it, princess,” he said with genuine appreciation. He ducked down and brushed a brief kiss of greeting to your lips before murmuring in your ear, “It’s giving me some ideas about sitting you on my lap so you can show me what a good girl you’ve been this year.”

The words sinking into your mind felt like Steve had poured liquid desire over the top of your head, warmth washing down your body as heat ignited in your core. The throbbing of desire pulsed more insistently between your thighs. 

Arching your spine, you pushed your soft tits against Steve’s hard chest, reveling in the way his big body shuddered when he felt your peaked nipples through your thin lingerie.

“Yes, please, daddy, let me sit on your cock—I’ll show you how good I can be,” you purred in Steve’s ear, your fingers curling in his soft sweater while you rubbed yourself against him like a desperate Christmas vixen. 

Thankfully, Steve must’ve had enough teasing, because he grabbed your hand and towed you deeper into the apartment. The entryway opened up into the lavish and luxuriously decorated living room, which featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. 

The lights of the city shimmered as brightly as those on the massive Christmas tree that stood in the corner. Before Steve had arrived, you’d already scrutinized the decorations, coming to the conclusion he’d paid someone to do them, which explained why they were a little cold.

But you didn’t have a chance to think more about Steve’s Christmas decor just then since he was busy leading you over to the couch. He lowered himself onto the smooth linen cushions before hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs so you straddled him.

You were barely settled on his thighs when your hands greedily cupped Steve’s clean-shaven jaw and dragged his face to yours for a proper kiss. Sparkling, glittering joy filled your chest at the first firm press of your mouth against his.

Steve’s own happiness was evident when he rumbled a pleased sound in his chest. Then he kissed you back, plunging his tongue between your parted lips as his arms wound around your waist, hauling you closer until your core pressed against the growing bulge in the front of his slacks.

You moaned into your sugar daddy’s mouth, rocking against his hardness while you kissed him fervently. Your fingers threaded through Steve’s soft hair, twirling around and tugging on the ends before clinging to his shoulders for better leverage to grind your needy wet slit down on his thick bulge.

“Fuck, princess, I’ve missed you,” he rumbled in a gruff voice, mouth breaking away from yours to press hungry kisses to your jaw and neck. 

Steve’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once—groping your tits and grasping your hips in greedy fingers. You were helpless to do anything but cling to him and moan your pleasure while he manhandled your body on his lap.

“Missed your cunt so fucking much—need to be inside you, baby.” Steve paused, lifting his head so he could catch your eye, his gaze the color of the night sky in winter. “Ya gonna let daddy sink into your achy, needy pussy, princess? Gonna let daddy have his present early?”

“Yes, yes, daddy, of course,” you answered, your tongue tripping over itself to get the words out as fast as you could. “Unwrap me, use me,” you bounced on his lap, grinding your dripping pussy against your sugar daddy’s bulge until you were nearly crying with need. “Please use my cunt, daddy, I want your cock—I need your cock, daddy, please!”

“Unwrap you?” Steve chuckled, ignoring the rest of what you’d said for the moment as he leaned back so his eyes could rake appreciatively down your body. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head and smiling at you. “I want you looking like the prettiest Christmas present I’ve ever seen while you’re bouncing on my cock, princess.” 

A wide smile spread across your face and you were so distracted by basking in Steve’s praise that you almost missed the way his hands lowered to the button and fly of his slacks. Almost.

Eagerly, your eyes dropped to watch Steve’s fingers nimbly undo his pants, your body bouncing in excited anticipation while he reached inside and pulled his cock free. 

No matter how many times you saw Steve’s cock—and you’d seen it a lot throughout the course of your relationship—your core always clenched with need and your body heated with desire, your pussy leaking like it was begging to be filled. 

You watched as Steve stroked himself with an expert hand, jealousy burning through your body. Steve’s cock was long and thick and perfect, a drop of pearly precum already beading at the tip, and your mouth filled with saliva at the thought of sliding to the floor between his legs and taking him between your lips. 

Instead, Steve’s thumb rubbed over the head of his cock and smoothed the precum down his shaft, making himself slicker for you. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait any longer to touch him.

“A present? All for me, daddy?” you cooed, reaching for Steve’s cock and taking over. Your fingers squeezed him admiringly, with just the right amount of pressure that you knew he liked, and he rewarded you with a pleased grunt. 

“All for you, baby,” Steve rumbled, affection soaking his voice so thoroughly that you finally tore your gaze away from his cock. You found your sugar daddy watching you, something deeper than affection in his darkened blue eyes. 

Emotion fluttered in your chest and you smiled shyly at Steve as something passed between the two of you, something intangible and so perfect you could hardly stand it. On a whim, you leaned into Steve, pressing a kiss to his lips because it felt like the only way to convey how you were feeling. 

When he smiled against your mouth, you knew he was feeling the same way. You delighted in that feeling for a moment and then you sat back on his thighs, giving his cock an affectionate pump while you stared into Steve’s eyes.

“Can I ride it, daddy?” you murmured breathlessly, letting your excitement show on your face as you stroked Steve’s length a little faster, twisting your wrist and wringing another pleasured grunt from him.

“Hop on up, princess,” he rasped with a strained smirk, patting your thigh. 

You raised yourself up and Steve hooked his finger in your panties, pulling them to the side and making it that much easier for you to line up your soaking wet pussy with his hard cock. 

You wasted no more time, sinking down on the tip, a sharp exhale punching from your lungs as you felt the thick girth of him stretch your tight hole.

“Daddy,” you whined while your body adjusted to the intrusion, your fingers curling into a fist in Steve’s sweater while you held onto him.

He was so thick that even after all the time you’d been Steve’s sugar baby, each time you took him felt like the first. The fullness was nearly overwhelming, your mind swimming as warm pleasure suffused your body.

Opening your eyes, not remembering when you’d closed them, you found Steve looking undone as he leaned back into the cushions of the couch, his chest heaving beneath his sweater. Pink tinged his cheeks and his blue eyes were darkened to a nearly midnight navy, his gaze fixed on the spot where your body was taking him. 

You wanted more, so you pushed your hips down, taking another inch of Steve’s cock into your tight pussy. The stretch of him sliding into you wrung a whine from your throat and the sound dragged your sugar daddy’s gaze away from your pussy, his heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“You’re doing so good for me, princess,” Steve cooed, sitting up and curling his arm around your waist, gathering you up against his chest. “Need to feel your warm pussy hugging my cock, baby,” he murmured in your ear, brushing kisses to your cheeks. “You can take a little more, can’t you?” 

At Steve’s question, you moved again and sank further down on his cock, taking him halfway inside you. The feeling of fullness was intoxicating, making you sway in your sugar daddy’s lap, a filthy moan slipping from your lips. 

“Atta girl, taking my cock so fucking well, baby,” Steve murmured, his hands curling under your thighs to help you lift up and sink back down, taking another inch inside your tight hole. Both of you moaned loudly. “Fuck, you’ve got the sweetest pussy in the world, princess, let me all the way in—c’mon, pretty present, let daddy all the way into that sweet cunt.”

Spreading your knees wider on either side of Steve’s lap, you lowered yourself down onto his hard length. When your ass met his thighs, Steve’s head fell back and he groaned, his eyes closed tightly. The sound mixed with your moan of pleasure as you reveled in the feeling of his cock buried to the hilt in your pussy. 

“Oh fuck, daddy, you’re so big,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. You were full, but it felt so good. Your hips squirmed in Steve’s lap, as if your body was greedy for friction, for more, for anything. 

But Steve had too tight a hold on you, his arms holding you securely enough that you could do little more than writhe your hips and buck against his grip. He wasn’t holding you tight enough to hurt you, just enough to keep you exactly where he wanted you—impaled on his cock. 

It only served to make more pleasure wash through your body, the evidence of your arousal leaking down the shaft of Steve’s cock to soak his balls. Still, you whined for more.

“You’re making daddy feel so fucking good, baby,” Steve groaned, giving in to your wordless plea and rocking you on his lap. His thick cock dragged against your inner walls so deliciously that you melted against his chest, letting out a soft cry of pleasure. “You feel so perfect, princess, so tight and wet and warm and—fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, daddy,” you sobbed into Steve’s neck, your hips grinding instinctively on his lap, finding his rhythm and meeting his rocking thrusts. “Missed your cock and your face and your… your everything.”

“You missed me, huh?” Steve huffed on a self-satisfied chuckle, pulling back enough to capture your chin and tilt your face toward him so he could stare into your eyes. His blue gaze blazed with a heady mix of desire and possessiveness. “You missed your daddy’s cock, huh, princess? ‘Cause your daddy is the only one who can fuck you this good, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, daddy, yes,” you cried. 

Your words cut off on a gasp when Steve pinned your hips in place above his lap while he fucked up into you, grinding the base of his cock against your clit. Shining, dazzling pleasure rocketed through your body, making you tremble as the coil of tension in your center wound tighter. 

“You’re the only one who can fuck me so good,” you echoed, babbling the words you knew Steve wanted to hear—the words that you knew were true. “So good, daddy, you feel sooo good.”

“That’s my fucking girl,” Steve rumbled moments before slanting his mouth to yours for a searing kiss. 

He stole your breath straight from your lungs, holding you tight and fucking you in short hard thrusts that had your mind going blank from pleasure. You moaned into his kiss, your fingers threading in his hair and clutching onto him like he was your whole world.

“My pretty little Christmas present,” Steve cooed against your mouth when you broke away to gasp for air. “My perfect girl.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna come!” you cried, pleasure swirling through your body and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby, come on daddy’s cock,” Steve urged in a deep voice, his tone sweet like honey, the sound of it slipping down your spine and making your pussy clench with desire. “Show me how much you missed me by being a good girl and coming all over my fat cock, princess.”

Steve’s hand groped your ass, then one of his long fingers slipped between your cheeks, pressing against the tight rosebud of your other hole. That little bit of pressure tipped you over the edge, twinkling flashes of pleasure setting off behind your eyes. Your lips fell open in a scream as you came hard on Steve’s cock.

Your release sparked Steve’s, and he crushed you to his chest, pinning you to his lap so that his cock was buried to the root in your cunt while he came. He let out a groan, his cock throbbing deep in your pussy as he spilled inside you. It felt so good, you shivered with delight, little pulses of aftershocks thrumming through your body. 

For long moments, you clung to Steve while he kept you wrapped up in his arms. You rode out your releases together, his big body shuddering against yours and your limbs trembling in his lap.

Once you were both sated, Steve relaxed back into the couch cushions, taking you with him. His hold on your body loosened, his arms only circling your waist, while you lay splayed across his broad chest. His palm smoothed up your spine, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you against him while you both caught your breath.

“Did you enjoy your present, daddy?” you asked in your most sugary sweet tone when you’d mostly recovered. There was still a little breathlessness in your voice. 

“Princess, I loved my present,” Steve murmured, dropping a kiss to your head. His other hand began to trace the lacy pattern of the lingerie you were still wearing. “The only thing I’ll love more is when I finally unwrap you.”

You laughed softly, melting further into Steve’s chest and letting your eyes slip closed as you breathed in his familiar scent. You could feel your combined releases leaking from your body, his softening cock still buried in your pussy, but you didn’t want to move. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of having your sugar daddy home with you for a few minutes.

So when Steve shifted your bodies, disturbing you as one of his hands reached into the pocket of his pants, you grumbled unhappily. He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your hair, settling you back down on his lap. 

A moment later, you felt his fingers brush your hand, which was resting against his chest. Your palm was pressed right over his heart, and you were enjoying the feel of it beating steadily beneath your touch.

Casually, in the way of someone who’d thought about their actions at great length, Steve slipped a ring onto the fourth finger of your left hand. 

When your eyes fluttered open to see what he’d done, you found a sparkling gemstone attached to a metal band circling your finger. The meaning of the ring and the finger Steve had put it on clicked in your mind and you sucked in a gasp, your heart racing to a gallop in your chest.

“When we talked about it,” Steve began, a slight tremor in his tone, like he was nervous, though you could hardly believe it. “You said you wanted it to be a quiet, special moment—just the two of us.”

You knew the conversation he was talking about, the one you’d had a few times over the last few months. But your mind was still whirling from the pleasure he’d given you and it was slow to process the understanding of the gemstone and the metal band. The ring. The sparkling, glittering ring.

When you didn’t say anything, Steve went on. 

“You told me to put a ring on your finger when I knew I was sure, and I—” He cut himself off as he got choked up, and you heard him swallow thickly, though your eyes were still fixed on the ring. “I’m sure—I’m sure you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Words were stuck in your throat. The moment felt like a fairytale becoming reality and you couldn’t seem to find the words to express the explosion of happiness filling your heart. 

“So, what do you think?” Steve asked, the tremor in his voice worsening and you knew he was nervous. It was Steve’s vulnerability in that moment that finally snapped you out of your trance.

Sitting up, you kept your left hand pressed to Steve’s chest, barely able to pull your eyes away from the ring to look at the man you loved.

“You haven’t asked me a question yet,” you said faintly, your mouth fluttering shyly into a playful smirk. 

Steve caught your eye and his expression softened as he relaxed a little and indulged in your playfulness. “Do you like your present, princess?” he asked, his own smirk curving his mouth. 

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, and forced yourself to keep playing the game you’d started. 

“I think…” you said, then paused, tilting your head to the side and giving the ring an assessing examination. Then you looked up at Steve from under your lashes. “It’s so glittery.” 

Steve groaned like he was being tortured, his head falling forward while his hand covered the back of yours. He pressed your palm further against his chest and you could feel the way his heart was beating faster than normal. It almost made you laugh giddily, but you held it back.

“Princess,” he rumbled, the pet name a warning as he lifted his head and fixed you with a firm expression. There was no heat of anger or frustration in his wintry blue eyes, though, only the warmth of affection and desire.

You couldn’t help playing with him a little more, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could while you cut your eyes to the side, knowing that if you kept looking at Steve, you’d laugh and cry and scream in delight. 

“That wasn’t the question I was expecting,” was all you said.

Catching your chin, Steve turned your face back toward his. His blue eyes were swimming with emotion and humor, a slight sheen to them as if he was holding back tears.

“Will you marry me?”

The words had barely passed his lips when you shrieked, “Yes!” 

You didn’t know who pulled the other in for a kiss, or if you both did it at the same time, but suddenly you were kissing Steve—and you couldn’t seem to stop. His mouth felt perfect and you sank into him, your hands holding him tightly while his arms wrapped around your waist, both of you celebrating the moment together.

For a long time, Steve kissed you, his mouth murmuring declarations into your lips as he promised to make you happy and give you anything you wanted. And in return, you promised to make him happy, to be the person he could always truly be himself with.

Both of you declared your love for one another, over and over again, in between one kiss and the next until all your words and kisses blended into one precious vow.

When you finally broke apart, you lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and he held you close, both of you enjoying being together. 

You admired the way the ring sparkled in the Christmas lights decorating the penthouse while Steve murmured plans for the wedding into your hair. He chuckled good-naturedly when you vetoed his ideas and squeezed you tight when you approved of them.

All the while, you kept his cock warm inside you, the two of you pretending not to notice the way he was hardening again, or the way you were growing wetter, your pussy fluttering with need. 

That is, until Steve couldn’t pretend anymore and he began rocking his hips beneath you so you could both feel the drag of his hard cock against your sensitive inner walls. Steve held you while you trembled through the sensation, his mouth covering yours and swallowing your moans of pleasure.

By the time you were begging Steve to unwrap you, he was more than happy to oblige. He laid you down on the plush carpet of the living room, stripping you of everything but the ring he’d put on your finger. 

Then, he made love to you under the light of the Christmas tree, whispering his devotion into your ear. His fingers twined with yours and your bodies writhed closer and closer until you came together with a sparkling, glittering burst of pleasure.

That night, you slept at the penthouse, and the following morning Steve took you home—to his real home, the brownstone in Park Slope where he truly lived. He hadn’t taken you there until things had gotten serious between the two of you, and he’d only met you at the penthouse the night before because it was faster to get there from the airport. 

Steve led you over the threshold of his brownstone, and your eyes glanced at the warmly decorated living room, smiling when you remembered the evening you’d spent with him putting up his Christmas tree before his trip. 

There were homemade ornaments and mismatched garlands everywhere, and you felt warmth bloom in your heart as you realized it felt like home to you too. 

Pulling you in for a kiss, Steve smiled against your lips before going to the kitchen to find a bottle of champagne. You clinked glasses in cheers of your engagement by the light of the Christmas tree in the home you were going to share as a family.

Then, the two of you spent Christmas together, not as sugar daddy and sugar baby, but as fiancé and fiancée. And every time Steve Rogers asked if you liked your present, you smiled and told him you loved the ring because it was so, so glittery. Which was exactly how he made you feel—so lit up with sparkling happiness, like the lights on a Christmas tree.

december daze challenge masterlist

[httpsdana]

hiiii can i please request a joao felix fic where they do the ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’ tiktok trend!! i think it’ll be really cute! love ur fics xx

Jacked and Kind~João Fèlix

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

João was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his TikTok fyp when he suddenly burst out laughing. “amor, you need to see this”

She glanced over, eyebrow raised, as he showed jer a video of a couple participating in the trending challenge to Sabrina Carpenter’s song.

The boyfriend lifts his girlfriend onto his shoulder with ease, flexing his muscles and looking ridiculously proud.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, already sensing what was coming. “You’re not going to make me do that, are you?”

João’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I’m absolutely going to make you do it. You’ve seen these arms, right?” He flexed dramatically, giving his bicep a quick squeeze.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Please, João. I’m not exactly lightweight, you know.”

“amor, I’m practically a superhero. I lift cars for fun.” He gave her a teasing look, clearly trying to be serious, but the way he said it made her giggle.

“Okay, Mr. Superhero,” she teased. “But if you drop me, I’m posting it to the internet, and you’ll never live it down.”

“I won’t drop you,” he said confidently, then added with a playful smirk, “But you’ll definitely post it, right? Gotta show off my muscles to the world.”

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed. “You’re such a child.”

“oh shut up” João replied , leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Now, come on, let’s make this video. We’re gonna go viral.”

She sighed dramatically but gave in, standing up from the couch. “Fine, but if I break my back, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll be fine, princesa. Just trust me,” João said with a wink. “You ready?”

She grabbed her phone, adding the song and preparing to film as he positioned himself. He flexed his arms one last time and gave her a wink. “Okay, on three. Hold on tight, and don’t look scared.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not scared, just... cautious.”

“three...two...one” João counted with the TikTok counter

In one fluid motion, João crouched down, then lifted her effortlessly onto his broad shoulders.

She yelped in surprise at how quickly it happened, but João’s hand was already on her thigh, holding her steady, while the other arm flexed proudly in front of the camera.

“Whoa, you actually did it,” she said, half in shock, half in awe. She couldn’t stop smiling, though she was still a little unsure of the whole thing.

João looked up at her with that proud grin. “Told you, princesa. I’m jacked and kind. A perfect match for this trend.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, trying to keep her balance. “You look like you’re about to audition for a bodybuilding competition.”

He flashed her a teasing wink, flexing again for the camera. “All for you, meu amor. Look at these muscles. You’re lucky to have me.”

“Lucky? I’m more like terrified,” she joked, her grip tightening on his shoulders as he started moving around a bit.

“Oh, come on, you love it. Admit it,” he teased, giving her a wink. “The view from up here is pretty great, right?”

She smirked. “Well, I guess it is. But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

“Too late,” João said, his grin growing wider as he flexed once more. “This is how you do it, amor.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m impressed. Just put me down already the phone stopped filming ages ago.”

“you’re making me look good right now though.”

She laughed at his words before he gently lowered her back down, his hands sliding to her waist to steady her.

She stood there, grinning up at him. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You’re strong.”

He gave her a proud look, holding up his phone to check the video. “Told you! This is gonna get so many views.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” she teased, poking him in the chest.

“I’m full of you, meu amor,” João said with a wink, pulling her in for a kiss. “Now let’s post this before I start flexing again. Don’t want to break the internet with all this muscle.”

Dhe laughed against his lips. “Alright, alright. your fan girls are gonna love this video”

He pulled back, laughing at her words. “oh the edits will be amazing”

She smiled up at him, nodding head.

“Of course they'll be. your fans never miss”

João laughed, pulling her closer for another kiss. “I don't care about them. I just want everyone to know that I'm real boyfriend material”

She laughed at his words, leaning her head against his chest as they settled on the couch, their video long forgotten as they spent the rest of the evening in each other's arms.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[pinkmoontaco]

It all started with a song || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Producer-Idol Jihoon x Producer-Solo Idol Reader

Genre: Fluff, Idol romance

Summary: Jihoon, the reserved genius of SEVENTEEN, unexpectedly finds himself drawn to Y/N, a rising junior idol from HYBE, after collaborating on a duet. What starts as a professional partnership blossom into a heartfelt romance, captured in their respective songs

Author's note: This is my first time writing a story, and I truly appreciate you giving it a chance. Please forgive me if there are any mistakes—I’m still learning and growing as a writer. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and support my work. It means the world to me, and I hope you enjoy the journey I’ve created.

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

Jihoon was preparing to release his solo album, which included a heartfelt duet about two lovers. After finishing his own parts, his next challenge was to find the perfect female lead for the song. With Bumzu’s help, he sifted through several demos of the female section.

After an exhaustive search, one demo finally stood out to him—it was exactly what he was looking for. When Bumzu visited him the next day, he asked, “Did any of the lyrics catch your attention?”

Jihoon nodded and showed him the demo.

“Oh, so you liked Y/N’s lyrics,” Bumzu said with a knowing smile. That’s when Jihoon learned that the lyrics had been written by Y/N, a junior solo idol from HYBE.

“You’ve never met her, have you?” Bumzu asked.

Jihoon shook his head. It was no surprise—everyone knew Jihoon wasn’t one to socialize much.

“I’ll bring her to the studio tomorrow,” Bumzu said confidently before heading out, leaving Jihoon to ponder the upcoming meeting.

The next day, Jihoon arrived at the studio earlier than usual, his mind a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew Y/N by name, but meeting her in person would be different.

As he set up his equipment, the door swung open, and Bumzu walked in with a bright grin. Behind him was Y/N, her presence soft yet commanding. She wore a simple outfit, but her confidence and aura made it clear why she was a rising star.

“Jihoon, meet Y/N,” Bumzu introduced.

Jihoon stood, his usual calm demeanor masking his nerves. “Hi,” he greeted simply, bowing slightly.

“Hi! It’s so great to finally meet you Sunbae-nim" Y/N said with a warm smile. Her voice was light and melodic, just as he’d imagined. “I’ve heard so much about you and your music.”

“Likewise, but please don't call me sunbae-nim, you can call me by my name,” Jihoon replied, his words brief but sincere.

Bumzu clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. “Alright, let’s get to work! You two have a duet to perfect.”

Jihoon gestured toward the recording booth, silently inviting Y/N to take her place. As they started working through the song, Jihoon found himself impressed—not just by her vocal ability but by her understanding of the emotions behind the lyrics.

They went over the harmonies and phrasing, fine-tuning every detail. By the end of the session, Jihoon was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly everything had gone. Y/N wasn’t just talented; she was professional and insightful, bringing a depth to the song that exceeded his expectations.

“You’re really good,” Jihoon said as they wrapped up, his tone earnest.

Y/N beamed. “Thank you! Your composition is amazing—it makes it easy to connect with the song.”

For the first time in a while, Jihoon felt a genuine sense of excitement about the project. Maybe working with others wasn’t so bad after all.

After their first session, Jihoon couldn’t stop thinking about how seamlessly Y/N had brought the song to life. It was rare for him to feel this level of connection with another artist, especially so quickly.

The next day, Bumzu texted Jihoon. "How was it working with Y/N? She said she had a great time."

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before typing back. "She’s talented. The song’s coming together well."

Bumzu responded with a teasing emoji. "That’s high praise from you! Maybe you should tell her that in person."

Jihoon frowned slightly but didn’t reply. Compliments weren’t exactly his strong suit.

Their second studio session was scheduled later that week. Y/N arrived on time, as cheerful and prepared as before. Jihoon noticed how her energy seemed to brighten the room, even when she was just warming up.

“Good morning!” she greeted with a bright smile.

Jihoon nodded. “Morning. Ready to dive in?”

“Always,” she said confidently.

As they worked through the song again, Jihoon found himself more at ease. Y/N’s suggestions were thoughtful, and she wasn’t afraid to ask questions or offer input, which he appreciated. Somewhere in between harmonizing and tweaking lines, they started to find a rhythm—not just in the music, but in their conversations.

During a short break, Y/N leaned back in her chair. “You know, Jihoon, this is one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever worked on. It feels so raw and real.”

Jihoon glanced at her, caught off guard by her sincerity. “Thanks. That means a lot,” he said quietly.

“Is it based on a personal experience?” she asked cautiously, as if afraid to overstep.

He hesitated for a moment before replying. “Kind of. It’s… inspired by the idea of love. Not necessarily mine, though.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “I get it. Sometimes it’s easier to write about emotions from a distance.”

Jihoon nodded, appreciating her understanding. Their conversation drifted to other topics—music, inspirations, and even random stories about life as idols. For someone he’d only met recently, Y/N was surprisingly easy to talk to.

By the end of the session, the song was nearly complete. As they packed up, Y/N turned to Jihoon.

“I think this duet is going to be really special,” she said. “Thank you for letting me be part of it.”

Jihoon looked at her, feeling a rare warmth in her words. “You brought the song to life. I should be thanking you.”

Her eyes lit up at his unexpected praise. “Well, I guess we make a pretty good team,” she said with a grin.

Jihoon allowed himself a small smile. “Yeah, we do.”

As Y/N left the studio that day, Jihoon couldn’t help but think that meeting her had been one of the best things to happen during this project.

In the weeks that followed, Jihoon and Y/N spent more time together polishing their duet. Each session seemed to bring them closer, not just as collaborators but as individuals. Y/N’s infectious laughter and unfiltered enthusiasm often pulled Jihoon out of his shell, while Jihoon’s quiet determination and thoughtful approach inspired Y/N to push herself even further.

One day, as they wrapped up the final recording, Bumzu entered the studio with a wide grin. “So, how does it feel to be done?”

Y/N clapped her hands together excitedly. “It feels amazing! I can’t wait for people to hear it.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement, his usual stoicism giving way to a subtle but genuine smile. “It’s better than I imagined.”

Bumzu raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Wow, Jihoon actually giving compliments? I need to write this down.”

Y/N laughed. “He’s not that bad. He’s just… selective with his words.”

Jihoon shot her a mock glare, but there was no malice behind it. Instead, he found himself smiling along with her—a rare occurrence that didn’t go unnoticed by Bumzu.

As they packed up, Bumzu pulled Jihoon aside. “You know, you’ve changed a bit since working with her,” he said casually.

Jihoon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem… lighter. Happier, even,” Bumzu said with a knowing grin. “It’s a good look on you.”

Jihoon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he glanced over at Y/N, who was chatting animatedly with a staff member. There was something about her—something that made him feel less burdened, more open to the world around him.

The song’s release day arrived, and the response was overwhelming. Fans praised the emotional depth of the duet, calling it one of Jihoon’s best works yet. Many were also captivated by the chemistry between Jihoon and Y/N, evident not just in their vocals but in the behind-the-scenes clips shared online.

As they stood backstage during a live performance, Y/N turned to Jihoon. “Are you nervous?” she asked, noticing his unusually quiet demeanor.

“A little,” he admitted. “Not about the song, though. I just hope people feel what we tried to convey.”

Y/N placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “They will. This song has so much heart in it. You’ve poured yourself into it, and I’ve never been prouder to be part of something.”

Her words struck a chord with Jihoon. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone in his creative journey. “Thank you,” he said softly.

When they stepped on stage and began to sing, Jihoon realized something unexpected. The song, which he’d once viewed as merely a project, had become something far more personal. And in that moment, as their voices blended and the audience’s applause filled the air, Jihoon understood just how much Y/N had changed his perspective—not just on music, but on life itself.

After the performance, Y/N grinned at him. “See? We nailed it.”

Jihoon met her gaze, his expression warm. “We really did.”

And as they walked off stage together, Jihoon couldn’t help but think that this was only the beginning of a story far greater than either of them had anticipated.

In the days following the song's release, the hype only grew. The other members of SEVENTEEN were quick to congratulate Jihoon. Mingyu, with his ever-present energy, was the first to bring it up during one of their group practice sessions.

“Hyung! That duet is insane! Everyone’s talking about you and Y/N,” Mingyu said, clapping him on the back.

Joshua added with a smile, “Yeah, the fans are loving the chemistry. You two sounded amazing together.”

Jihoon felt a rare flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. “Thanks, guys. It was a lot of work, but she made it easier.”

“Oh-ho!” Seungkwan chimed in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hyung admitting someone made his life easier? This must be a first!”

The room erupted into laughter. Even Jeonghan, who always had a teasing comment up his sleeve, smirked. “So when do we get to meet this famous Y/N?”

Before Jihoon could respond, the studio door creaked open and in walked Bumzu—with Y/N beside him. The sudden appearance of their guest caught everyone’s attention.

“Speak of the devil!” Vernon said, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N waved nervously, a bit overwhelmed by being surrounded by the full force of SEVENTEEN. “Hi, everyone. It’s nice to finally meet all of you.”

Dino bounded over with enthusiasm. “You’re the one with that amazing voice! Your part in the song gave me chills.”

“Thanks!” Y/N said, her smile growing as she relaxed.

Hoshi, never one to miss a moment, stepped forward and grinned. “Are you ready to dance with us too? Because in SEVENTEEN, we don’t just sing—we dance.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a small smirk. “Don’t scare her off, Hoshi.”

Y/N laughed, feeling at ease now. “I’d love to try sometime, but I don’t think I could keep up with you guys. I’m more of a singer than a dancer.”

Jun nudged Jihoon playfully. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s found a great collaborator.”

Over the next hour, SEVENTEEN welcomed Y/N into their world, joking and sharing stories. The room was filled with laughter, the group’s usual dynamic enriched by a new presence. Jihoon found himself observing the way Y/N blended in so effortlessly, as if she’d been part of their chaotic family all along.

As the evening went on, Minghao approached Jihoon with a knowing smile. “You look happy,” he said simply.

Jihoon glanced at Y/N, who was now in an animated conversation with DK and Woozi, sharing anecdotes about their vocal warm-ups. A small, content smile played on his lips. “I guess I am.”

A few weeks later, SEVENTEEN was preparing for a group livestream, and Y/N was invited to join as a surprise guest. Jihoon wasn’t thrilled about the idea at first—he preferred to keep things professional—but the rest of the members were insistent.

“Come on, Jihoon,” Seungkwan pleaded. “The fans already love you two together. This will be fun!”

“It’s a great way to promote the song even more,” Mingyu added. “Plus, we want to see how she handles being in one of our chaotic lives.”

Reluctantly, Jihoon agreed, and Y/N arrived at the dorm just as the livestream was about to begin.

“Is this what it’s like before you go live?” Y/N asked, watching the members scramble to adjust cameras, lights, and snacks.

“Always,” Jeonghan said with a smirk. “It’s controlled chaos.”

As the livestream began, fans flooded the chat with comments. The members introduced Y/N, and the reaction was overwhelmingly positive.

“Y/N’s here! OMG!”

“She and Jihoon look so good together!”

“The duet is my favorite song right now!”

Jihoon, who was reading the comments on his phone, shifted uncomfortably but managed a small smile. “The fans seem happy,” he said quietly to Y/N.

“They’re so sweet,” Y/N replied, her eyes scanning the messages.

The members took turns asking her questions, each one more playful than the last.

“Hoshi,” Y/N said, laughing, “why are you asking if I’d join the Performance Team? I just told you I’m not much of a dancer!”

“Because we can teach you,” Hoshi replied with a dramatic flourish.

DK chimed in, “Or you can join the Vocal Team! We need more people who can hit those high notes.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Minghao said. “You’re a solo artist. Stay in your lane before they rope you into our madness.”

The banter continued until Seungkwan leaned into the camera and asked the question everyone wanted to know.

“So, Y/N, how’s it working with Jihoon?”

The chat exploded with reactions.

Y/N glanced at Jihoon, who was clearly caught off guard but tried to mask it. She smiled. “Honestly? It’s been amazing. He’s a perfectionist, but in the best way. I’ve learned so much from him.”

Jihoon cleared his throat, his ears tinged pink. “She’s talented, so it wasn’t hard to work with her,” he said simply, earning exaggerated “oohs” from the members.

As the livestream continued, Y/N fit right in with SEVENTEEN’s dynamic, laughing and joking with them like she’d known them for years. Fans in the chat began calling her an “honorary 14th member,” a title that made her laugh but also secretly warmed Jihoon’s heart.

After the livestream ended, the members sprawled across the couch, tired but happy.

“You handled that like a pro,” Mingyu said, tossing a cushion at Y/N.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, catching the cushion. “You guys are a lot of fun. I can see why your fans love you so much.”

As the group began to disperse, Jihoon found himself alone with Y/N for the first time that evening.

“You were great today,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Thanks. I was a little nervous, but you all made it easy,” Y/N said, leaning against the back of the couch. “Your members are like family, huh?”

Jihoon nodded. “They are. It’s chaotic, but it’s… home.”

Y/N smiled. “I can tell. You’re lucky to have that.”

There was a comfortable silence between them before Y/N added, “And thanks for letting me be part of all this. I didn’t expect to be welcomed so warmly.”

Jihoon met her gaze, his usual stoicism softening. “You’re part of it now. Whether you like it or not.”

Her laughter filled the room, light and genuine. “I think I like it.”

And for the first time in a long while, Jihoon felt like the walls he’d built around himself were no longer as important.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N continued to bond with SEVENTEEN. She found herself invited to more studio sessions, group meals, and even impromptu dance practices. Despite her initial hesitation about being in the spotlight alongside such a well-known group, their warmth made her feel at home.

Jihoon, on the other hand, started noticing the subtle ways Y/N was changing the dynamic around him. She wasn’t just a collaborator anymore; she was becoming a friend. Someone who could pull him out of his creative tunnel and remind him to enjoy the little moments.

One day, after a long recording session, the group decided to hang out at their dorm. Y/N hesitated when Seungkwan invited her along.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” she said.

“You? Intruding?” Seungkwan scoffed. “You’re practically one of us now. Come on!”

When they arrived at the dorm, chaos quickly ensued. Mingyu was in the kitchen, trying to cook something “special,” while Hoshi and Dino argued over which choreography to show Y/N.

Jihoon sat on the couch, quietly observing the scene. Y/N was laughing with Jeonghan, who was undoubtedly up to some mischief. He couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“You like her, don’t you?” Minghao’s voice pulled Jihoon from his thoughts.

Jihoon turned to him, his expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

Minghao smirked. “You’re not as subtle as you think. The way you look at her—it’s different.”

Jihoon sighed, leaning back against the couch. “She’s… easy to be around. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Minghao said, clearly unconvinced. “Just don’t wait too long to figure it out.”

Later that evening, as everyone settled in for a movie, Jihoon found himself sitting next to Y/N. The room was dimly lit, and the sound of laughter and popcorn crunching filled the air.

Y/N leaned closer to whisper, “Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys. I didn’t expect this when we started working on the song.”

Jihoon glanced at her, the soft glow of the TV reflecting in her eyes. “You’re not just here because of the song anymore. They like you. I… like having you around.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his admission, a soft smile forming on her lips. “I like being around you too, Jihoon.”

For a moment, the noise of the room faded, and it was just the two of them, sitting closer than either realized.

“Jihoon! Pass the popcorn!” DK’s voice broke the moment, and Jihoon blinked, quickly grabbing the bowl to hand over.

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. The warmth between them lingered, unspoken but undeniable.

As the weeks turned into months, their bond deepened. Whether it was through shared late-night studio sessions, casual dinners with the group, or quiet moments away from the chaos, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves drawn closer together.

And while neither of them said it out loud, they both knew that what had started as a simple duet had grown into something far more meaningful.

As time passed, Jihoon and Y/N’s bond became increasingly apparent to everyone around them. The other members of SEVENTEEN had a field day teasing Jihoon about it, though they were careful not to push him too far. Y/N, on the other hand, took it all in stride, her easygoing nature making her a natural fit within the group’s chaotic but loving dynamic.

One day, they found themselves in the studio late at night, working on a new song. The other members had already gone home, leaving just the two of them.

Y/N leaned over the desk, scrolling through the playlist Jihoon had prepared for inspiration. “This one’s good,” she said, pointing to a track.

Jihoon nodded, playing it without hesitation. The soft melody filled the room, and they both sat in comfortable silence, letting the music wash over them.

After a while, Y/N broke the quiet. “Do you ever think about what this all means? The music, the fans, everything we do?”

Jihoon looked at her, surprised by the sudden introspection. “All the time,” he admitted. “It’s why I work so hard. I want it to mean something—to leave something behind that matters.”

She smiled softly. “You already do. Your music touches so many people, Jihoon. Including me.”

He felt a warmth spread through him at her words. “What about you? What does it mean to you?”

Y/N took a moment to think before answering. “It’s about connection. Every lyric, every note… it’s a way to reach people, to let them know they’re not alone. I think that’s why I love working with you. You get that.”

For a moment, Jihoon was at a loss for words. Her sincerity, her openness—it was something he wasn’t used to but found himself drawn to.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I don’t say this often, but… you’ve changed the way I look at things. Working with you—it’s made me realize how much more music can be when it’s shared.”

She looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “You don’t know how much that means to me, coming from you.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the room. But before either of them could say more, Jihoon’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment.

The next morning, as they arrived at the practice room, the other members were already there. Hoshi immediately noticed the way Jihoon and Y/N seemed closer than usual.

“Did something happen last night?” he asked, his eyes darting between the two.

“Nothing happened,” Jihoon replied quickly, his ears turning pink.

Y/N, however, laughed. “We were just working on music. Don’t let your imagination run wild.”

The members didn’t buy it, but they let it go—for now.

Later that week, the group had a fan meeting, and Y/N was invited as a special guest to perform their duet live for the first time since its release. The fans erupted into cheers as Jihoon and Y/N took the stage together, their voices blending seamlessly as they sang.

During the performance, Jihoon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N, her presence radiating warmth and confidence. He realized that what had started as a professional partnership had grown into something far more personal.

After the performance, as they stood backstage, Y/N turned to Jihoon, her eyes sparkling. “That was incredible. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before replying. “Thank you… for everything.”

Y/N smiled, her hand lightly brushing his arm. And in that moment, Jihoon knew that whatever this was between them—friendship, partnership, or something more—he wasn’t ready to let it go.

A few days after their fan meeting, the duet performance went viral. Clips of Jihoon and Y/N on stage, their undeniable chemistry and harmonies, flooded social media. Fans couldn’t stop talking about how perfectly their voices blended and how natural their interactions seemed.

The buzz didn’t go unnoticed by SEVENTEEN.

“Have you seen the comments?” Seungkwan said, shoving his phone in front of Jihoon’s face during a break in practice.

Jihoon glanced at the screen, where fans had flooded the comments section with messages like:

“They’re perfect together!”

“Jihoon and Y/N need to release a whole album together!”

“Am I the only one who feels like there’s more to their story?”

Jihoon sighed, pushing the phone away. “It’s just the fans. They like to speculate.”

“But they’re not wrong,” Mingyu chimed in with a sly grin.

“Not you too,” Jihoon groaned.

That evening, Y/N visited the dorm for what was supposed to be a casual hangout. As usual, the members couldn’t help but stir the pot.

“So, Y/N,” Jeonghan started, leaning casually against the couch, “what’s it like being the most shipped person with Jihoon right now?”

Y/N nearly choked on her drink. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Hoshi said, joining in. “The fans are calling you the ‘power duo.’ Some are even saying you’re a better fit than us!”

“Don’t listen to them,” Jihoon muttered, his ears turning pink.

Y/N, recovering from her initial shock, laughed. “Well, I guess it’s a compliment? I mean, Jihoon is an incredible artist, so I’m honored.”

The room erupted in exaggerated “oohs,” with Seungkwan dramatically fanning Jihoon. “Did you hear that? She called you incredible!”

Jihoon buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Why do I even let you all talk?”

Despite the teasing, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at Y/N’s words. She always had a way of making him feel seen—not just as an artist but as a person.

Later that night, after everyone had settled down, Y/N and Jihoon found themselves alone on the dorm balcony, overlooking the city lights.

“It’s been a wild night, huh?” Y/N said, leaning against the railing.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the skyline. “Yeah. I didn’t expect any of this when we started working together.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “But I’m glad it happened. I’ve learned so much—not just about music but about myself.”

Jihoon glanced at her, his expression softening. “You’ve changed a lot of things for me, too. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to remind me why I love what I do.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in his voice. “Jihoon… I—”

Before she could finish, the balcony door slid open, and Mingyu stuck his head out. “Hey, are you two having a moment? Because we’ve got snacks inside.”

Y/N burst out laughing, while Jihoon groaned. “You have the worst timing, Mingyu.”

Mingyu grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.”

As the night went on, the teasing and camaraderie continued, but something had shifted between Jihoon and Y/N. Though unspoken, there was an understanding growing between them—one that neither was ready to confront just yet but couldn’t deny any longer.

And as Jihoon watched Y/N laughing with his members, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something he’d been searching for without even realizing it.

The weeks passed, and Jihoon found himself unable to shake the feeling that had been slowly growing inside him. Every time Y/N smiled, every time their eyes met during a quiet moment, something in his chest fluttered. He had always been someone who let his music speak for him, but this time, it wasn’t enough just to express himself through lyrics. He needed to tell her, to be vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been with anyone before.

But how?

It was during a late-night studio session, after everyone else had left for the day, that Jihoon decided to do something about it. He had spent hours working on the song, tweaking the melody, perfecting the lyrics, and now it was ready.

The track wasn’t like anything he had made before. It was softer, more personal, and every note seemed to come straight from his heart. He had poured his feelings into it, capturing the emotions that he couldn’t say out loud. It was a love song. And the subject of it? None other than Y/N.

The next day, Jihoon invited Y/N to the studio under the guise of working on new material. She arrived, always eager to help or collaborate, but there was something different about Jihoon’s demeanor that caught her attention.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she walked into the studio. “You’ve been acting a little… off lately.”

Jihoon avoided her gaze, fiddling with the soundboard for a moment. “I… I have something I want to play for you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curious. “A new song?”

He nodded, his throat tightening slightly. “Yeah. But it’s… different.”

Y/N walked over to him and sat down, her eyes fixed on him. “I’m all ears, Jihoon.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment longer before hitting play. The soft, melodic intro filled the room, and Y/N was immediately drawn into the haunting beauty of the song. As the lyrics began, she felt a stirring in her chest. The song felt… personal. Deeply personal.

She listened intently, her heart racing as the chorus hit, and Jihoon’s voice filled the space:

“I didn’t know how to say it, but now I know it’s true, Every moment with you feels like I’ve found something new. In the silence, in the music, in the things I never said, I’m falling for you, I’m falling for you, And I can’t take it back.”

The song went on, each lyric pulling Y/N deeper into the emotions Jihoon had poured into it. By the end, the room was thick with the unspoken words hanging in the air. The music faded, and for a few moments, there was silence.

Y/N slowly turned to look at Jihoon, her eyes wide with realization. “Jihoon… that song…”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s for you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had known there was something between them, something that had grown over time, but hearing him express it so clearly, through music, felt like a confession she hadn’t expected.

“Jihoon…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He finally met her gaze, his eyes vulnerable in a way she had never seen before. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to tell myself I was just… overthinking. But every time you’re near, every time you smile, it feels like something more. I think… I think I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. And I couldn’t hide it anymore. Not after writing this song for you.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she processed his words, her own emotions swirling within her. She had felt it too—the connection, the way everything felt more meaningful when they were together. But hearing him say it out loud made it all so real.

She took a step closer, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve been feeling the same way, Jihoon.”

His eyes widened, and he took a step toward her as well. “Really?”

She nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve been too afraid to admit it, but… I’ve been falling for you, too. Maybe I didn’t want to admit it because I didn’t know if you felt the same, but… I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The tension that had built between them in the past few months suddenly lifted. Jihoon, overcome with relief and happiness, took her hand gently.

“Then… do you think we can figure this out together?” he asked softly.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling. “I’d like that very much.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything else. The weight of the confession hung in the air, but the silence felt comfortable, like a shared understanding.

Jihoon squeezed her hand gently. “I don’t know what comes next, but I want to find out with you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining. “Me too.”

And as they stood there, hand in hand, Jihoon knew that this song, the one that had started as a way to express his feelings, was just the beginning of a new chapter for them both.

For a few weeks, Jihoon and Y/N managed to keep their budding relationship under wraps. They weren’t intentionally hiding it, but neither of them was ready to face the whirlwind of teasing that would inevitably come from SEVENTEEN.

However, secrets rarely lasted long in a group as close-knit and nosy as SEVENTEEN.

It all started during a practice session. Jihoon had left his phone on the bench while the group worked through choreography, and a text from Y/N popped up on the screen:

Y/N: Can’t wait to see you tonight ❤️

Seungkwan, ever the observant one, noticed the notification first. “Oh? Hyung, care to explain this?” he asked, holding up the phone with a mischievous grin.

Jihoon froze mid-step, his face instantly turning crimson. “Give me that!” he snapped, rushing over to grab the phone.

But it was too late. Seungkwan had already shared the discovery with Hoshi and Jeonghan, who were now looking at Jihoon with matching expressions of glee.

“‘Can’t wait to see you tonight?’” Jeonghan teased, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Jihoon, do you have plans we should know about?”

The rest of the group quickly caught on, gathering around as Jihoon struggled to come up with an excuse.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Nothing?” Hoshi said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like something to me.”

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Mingyu blurted out. The room went silent for a moment as everyone processed the possibility.

Jihoon sighed, realizing there was no escape. “Fine. Yes. It’s Y/N. We’re… dating.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“What?!” Seungkwan exclaimed, looking both shocked and delighted. “When did this happen?”

“Jihoon, you sly fox!” Jeonghan said, clapping him on the back.

“You’re dating Y/N, and you didn’t tell us?” Dino pouted. “I thought we were close!”

Jihoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, okay? It’s still new, and we didn’t want any unnecessary attention.”

Joshua, ever the voice of reason, stepped in. “Guys, let’s not overwhelm him. It’s Jihoon, after all. This must’ve taken a lot for him to admit.”

“Yeah,” DK added, grinning. “But seriously, Hyung, we’re happy for you. Y/N’s great.”

“She’s not just great,” Minghao said thoughtfully. “She fits in with us, and most importantly, she brings out a side of you we don’t see often. It’s nice.”

Jihoon looked around at his members, their teasing replaced with genuine support, and felt a wave of relief. “Thanks, guys. Just… keep it low-key, okay? We’re not ready for everyone to know yet.”

The group collectively agreed, though Jihoon wasn’t sure he trusted their definition of “low-key.”

That evening, Jihoon met Y/N at their usual spot in the studio. She could tell something was different as soon as he walked in.

“What happened?” she asked, tilting her head.

“They know,” Jihoon said, sitting beside her.

“Who knows?”

“SEVENTEEN,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Oh no. How bad was it?”

Jihoon chuckled despite himself. “About as chaotic as you’d expect. But… they’re happy for us. They promised to keep it a secret, though I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

Y/N smiled, reaching over to take his hand. “Well, I guess it was bound to happen. They’re your family, Jihoon. And honestly, I don’t mind if they know. I like being part of your world.”

Jihoon squeezed her hand, his heart swelling at her words. “You’re more than just part of it, Y/N. You’ve made it better.”

The next day, when Y/N visited the dorm for dinner, the teasing resumed, but it was all in good fun.

“So, Y/N,” Jeonghan said with a sly smile, “what’s it like dating our Jihoon? Is he as romantic as he is in his songs?”

Y/N laughed, glancing at Jihoon, who looked like he wanted to disappear. “He’s perfect,” she said simply, her sincerity making Jihoon’s face flush even more.

The room erupted into cheers and playful jabs, but beneath the chaos, there was a palpable warmth. SEVENTEEN was more than a group—they were a family. And now, Y/N was part of that family, too.

As the night wore on, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel grateful. For his members, for their unwavering support, and most of all, for Y/N, who had somehow become the piece he hadn’t realized was missing from his life.

A few weeks after SEVENTEEN’s comeback promotions wrapped up, Jihoon surprised fans with the announcement of a solo track, titled “Only for You.” The anticipation was palpable, especially after fans connected the dots between the mysterious teasers and Jihoon’s recent duet with Y/N.

When the song finally dropped, it was an instant hit. A tender and emotional ballad, the lyrics told the story of someone realizing they’ve found the one person who completes them. Jihoon’s heartfelt delivery struck a chord with listeners, but eagle-eyed fans noticed something peculiar.

The release coincided with a few subtle interactions between Jihoon and Y/N on social media. Comments like:

“This song feels so personal… is it inspired by someone special?”

“The vibe reminds me of Jihoon and Y/N’s duet. Are we missing something?”

“Wait a second… some of these lyrics feel like they match things Y/N said in interviews!”

The speculation ramped up a notch when, only a few days later, Y/N teased her own solo track, “Echo of You.”

When Y/N’s song dropped, fans were quick to notice that it felt like a reply to Jihoon’s. While Jihoon’s track spoke of falling for someone who brought light into his life, Y/N’s lyrics told the story of being seen and loved for who she truly was.

Lines like:

“I thought I was just a shadow, but your light made me shine.”

“Every melody you wrote felt like a message just for me.”

Fans flooded social media with theories.

“Wait, these songs feel connected. Are they… about each other?”

“Woozi's ‘Only for You’ and Y/N’s ‘Echo of You’ are like two sides of the same love story.”

“If this is real, I’ll cry. They’re perfect together!”

The speculation reached its peak when a fan-made mashup of the two songs went viral, seamlessly blending the tracks into a duet that felt like it was meant to be.

Back at SEVENTEEN’s dorm, the members couldn’t help but join the buzz.

“So,” Seungkwan started, holding up his phone, “the fans are catching on.”

Jihoon groaned, slumping onto the couch. “I knew this would happen.”

“I mean, they’re not wrong,” Jeonghan said, smirking. “The songs do sound like they’re talking to each other.”

Y/N, who had been invited over for dinner, sat beside Jihoon, trying (and failing) to suppress her laughter. “It’s kind of impressive how quickly they picked up on it.”

Joshua leaned forward, grinning. “Are you two going to say anything? Or just let the fans go wild with their theories?”

Jihoon glanced at Y/N, his expression thoughtful. “What do you think?” he asked her.

Y/N smiled softly. “I don’t mind letting them wonder for now. I like that the songs are just ours, even if people are curious.”

The members all groaned in mock frustration.

“You’re both too private for your own good,” Mingyu teased. “Just admit it already and save us the headache!”

“Admit what?” Jihoon shot back, feigning innocence.

“That you two are the main characters in the greatest musical love story ever told,” Hoshi declared dramatically, earning laughter from the group.

Despite the teasing, Jihoon and Y/N decided to keep quiet, letting their music speak for them. The buzz around their songs only grew, with both tracks climbing the charts and becoming fan favorites.

During a live Q&A, Jihoon was inevitably asked about the inspiration for “Only for You.”

“It’s about someone who changed the way I see the world,” he said simply, his expression soft.

When Y/N was asked a similar question about “Echo of You,” she smiled knowingly. “It’s a song about gratitude and love—for someone who helped me realize my worth.”

The fans didn’t need anything more. To them, the connection between the songs—and their creators—was obvious.

One evening, as they sat together in Jihoon’s studio, Y/N turned to him with a playful smile. “So, do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “I think they know. They’re just waiting for us to say it out loud.”

“And when do you think we should?” she asked, tilting her head.

Jihoon thought for a moment before replying, his voice warm. “Maybe someday. But for now, I like that the songs tell our story. It feels… special.”

Y/N leaned closer, her hand resting on his. “I like that too.”

The weeks following the dual song releases were a whirlwind. Both tracks dominated the charts, and the fan theories only grew more elaborate. Mashups, fan edits, and endless analysis filled the internet, with fans piecing together subtle interactions and shared moments.

Despite their best efforts to stay under the radar, the buzz became too loud to ignore. SEVENTEEN’s members didn’t make it any easier, constantly dropping playful hints during interviews and live streams.

One day, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves at a joint event where multiple HYBE artists were present. It was a casual, live-streamed Q&A session, and the energy in the room was lively. Fans flooded the chat with questions about collaborations, their music, and, of course, the connection between Jihoon’s and Y/N’s songs.

The host, clearly aware of the buzz, decided to address the elephant in the room.

“So, Woozi-shi and Y/N-shi,” they began, a mischievous glint in their eye. “The fans have been talking nonstop about how your songs seem… connected. Care to comment?”

Jihoon, caught off guard, glanced at Y/N. She met his gaze with a small, encouraging smile, her eyes silently asking, Are you ready?

He hesitated for a moment before leaning into the mic. “Well,” he started, his voice calm but tinged with nervousness, “the fans aren’t wrong. The songs are connected.”

The room fell silent for a moment, everyone—including the other artists—hanging on his every word.

Y/N chimed in, her tone light but honest. “We didn’t plan for it to be a big mystery. We just wrote from our hearts. And, well… our hearts were in the same place.”

The host’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you saying—”

Jihoon nodded, cutting them off gently. “Y/N and I… we’re together. And the songs were our way of telling that story without saying it outright.”

The room erupted into applause, cheers, and a few playful whistles from SEVENTEEN and the other HYBE artists. The fans watching the live stream went wild, the chat filling with messages like:

“I KNEW IT!”

“This is the best plot twist ever!”

“Our musical power couple!”

Later that evening, Jihoon and Y/N sat together backstage, scrolling through the flood of messages on social media.

“Looks like the fans are taking it well,” Y/N said, laughing as she read a particularly enthusiastic comment.

Jihoon smiled, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in weeks. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried so much. They seem… happy for us.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “Of course they are. We’ve been honest in the best way we know how—through our music.”

Jihoon wrapped an arm around her, his voice soft. “I’m glad we finally said it. It feels good not to hide anymore.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Me too.”

As the weeks passed, their relationship became a beloved story among fans. Jihoon and Y/N didn’t share much beyond their music and occasional glimpses of their dynamic, but their authenticity resonated with everyone.

Their next collaboration—a duet explicitly written as a continuation of their story—became one of the most anticipated releases of the year, cementing their status as not just two incredible artists but as a couple who had found love in the heart of their shared passion.

And as Jihoon often said in interviews, with a small, knowing smile: “It all started with a song.”

The announcement of Jihoon and Y/N’s relationship didn’t just excite fans; it gave SEVENTEEN endless new material to tease their usually reserved member. And, of course, they weren’t going to let the opportunity go to waste during their next content shoot.

The group was filming an episode of their popular variety show, “GOING SEVENTEEN,” and the theme for the day was a mock courtroom trial where members had to defend themselves against outrageous (and often ridiculous) accusations.

As the camera rolled, Jeonghan smirked, ready to unleash chaos. “Today, I bring a serious accusation against Jihoon,” he began, standing dramatically as the self-appointed prosecutor.

Jihoon, sitting at the “defendant’s” table, raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Jeonghan held up an imaginary piece of paper, squinting at it for effect. “Jihoon, you’ve been accused of… secretly writing love songs instead of working on group projects. How do you plead?”

The room erupted in laughter, with Seungkwan clapping his hands. “Guilty! We all know it’s true!”

Jihoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes!” Hoshi chimed in, his grin practically splitting his face. “We’ve all noticed you humming random melodies lately. Are those for us, or… someone else?”

The teasing didn’t stop there. As the trial continued, the members took turns “presenting evidence.”

Mingyu dramatically placed a notebook on the table. “Exhibit A: Jihoon’s lyric book. Do we need to open it to find the word ‘Y/N’ written a hundred times?”

Dino jumped in, mimicking an investigator. “Exhibit B: The way Jihoon smiles at his phone during breaks. Suspicious behavior if you ask me.”

Even the usually quiet Wonwoo joined in. “Exhibit C: The recent duet with Y/N. We all heard it. It’s basically a confession set to music.”

By this point, Jihoon’s face was a deep shade of red, though he couldn’t help but chuckle.

During a break in filming, Joshua leaned over to Jihoon. “You know, they’re only teasing because they’re happy for you, right?”

“I know,” Jihoon replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But they’re relentless.”

“Hey, it’s good content,” Joshua said with a wink. “The fans will love it.”

Later in the shoot, the tables turned when it was Jihoon’s chance to act as the judge. He banged the gavel dramatically. “I have an accusation of my own,” he announced, his tone firm but playful.

The members gasped in mock horror.

“I accuse SEVENTEEN of being the nosiest group in the industry,” Jihoon declared, pointing at them one by one. “Always prying, always teasing. How do you plead?”

“Guilty!” Seungkwan shouted, raising his hands in surrender. “But we do it out of love!”

Hoshi stood up, grinning. “Your Honor, I’d like to counter-accuse. Jihoon is guilty of smiling more these days. We all know the reason why.”

The room burst into laughter once again, and Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head, a reluctant smile on his face.

As the shoot wrapped up, the director praised the group for their energy and humor. The episode, once edited, was full of golden moments that had fans laughing and cooing over SEVENTEEN’s antics.

And while Jihoon might have been the butt of the jokes, the camaraderie and genuine affection from his members shone through.

In the comments section of the uploaded episode, fans were quick to notice the playful dynamic:

“SEVENTEEN teasing Jihoon about Y/N is peak family energy!”

“Jihoon trying to act annoyed but secretly loving it is so cute.”

“The way they all support him in their own chaotic way makes me emotional.”

That evening, as Jihoon returned to his studio, his phone buzzed with a message from Y/N:

Y/N: Saw the episode preview. They’re so obvious, lol.

Jihoon smiled, typing back:

Jihoon: They’re impossible. But at least they’re on our side.

Y/N: Always. And so am I.

As he leaned back in his chair, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for Y/N, but for the family he’d found in SEVENTEEN.

Even if they never let him live it down.

[fuqnia]

SP Main Four + butters !College AU Relationship Headcanons

[☆] A/N | hii guys! i recently hit 500 likes on tumblr and i'm like so speechless... i never wouldve thought people would be interested in reading my stupid little writing hehe, so tysm! my long fic, most wanted, is coming to a close soon, and I have been working on another longfic that's a fem!reader insert x main 4 boys in college! i'm also probably going to write a more realistic/sadder headcanons, because this one was toothachingly sweet </3

[☆] C/W | NSFW under the cut, this is also for f!reader, but i'm open to writing a gn!reader or m!reader in the future

[☆] check out my !college au headcanons for the boys + butters here!

☆ stan marsh

hopeless romantic

will definitely do the most cheesy things for you

has a mixtape of songs that remind him of you

writes love letters, but never gives them to you

feels everything deeply, he's a big ol' baby

late night talks about his fears and dreams

craves emotional intimacy and trust w/ you

super duper attentive to your needs

will put you over himself

overthinks

enjoys laid-back dates! like movie dates, thrifting, strolls

gets jealous reallyyy easily

wont outright admit it tho

very insecure, if someone flirts with u, he'll just sulk LOL

avoids confrontations at all costs

not afraid to cry in front of you

vomits on you if you do something really provocative to him

always offer his jacket/hoodie to you

loves holding your hand

laces his fingers thru yours and swings your hands

goofy ah grin when you surprise him with kisses

big on cuddling

gets super flustered when his friends teases him about you

obsessed with your laugh

keeps a picture of you in his wallet

NSFW

sooo nervous during your first time with him

very eager to please!

takes his time learning what you like

kisses every inch of your body

starts with your lips and works his way down

definitely a soft dom

"does this feel good?" "tell me if you want me to stop"

loves holding your hand while in you

eats your p out like your his last meal

i think he would be more into receiving than giving, but doesn't mind giving at all!

gets shy when you compliment him and tell him how good he is making you feel

prefers gentle sex, unless you want it rough

his entire body flushes red when you tease his cock

like palming thru his shorts, or pressing quick kisses to his tip

loves to cum in your mouth

goes crazy if he gets to paint your face tho

i'm sorry but this man is into creampies...

gets turned on when you're really emotional/crying from him pleasuring you

favorite position is definitely cowgirl

definitely an ass man, loves squishing/pinching your skin

kisses your forehead, cheeks and lips after going down on you

i think he would also be kinda quiet, wouldn't let out that many moans

☆ kyle broflovski

shows his love thru actions rather than words

remembers every anniversary, even the little ones :)

makes detailed itineraries for dates

even though he's a yapper, he definitely enjoys listening to you

fiercely loyal

takes no disrespect towards you

ready to work anyone's shit as so much as they look at you funny

probably would like someone who would challenge him intellectually

needs you to have the same core values as him

DO NOT DO PDA WITH THIS MAN

he will just look at you with pure disgust if you even attempt to...

but will secretly hold hands under the table or sneak a kiss when no one is looking

puts too much pressure on himself to be perfect for you

always notices this little things about you

oh you changed your nail color? you applied your makeup differently?

will blush like crazy when you compliment him

awkwardly rubs the back of his neck

will get irrationally jealous

tries to hide it by cracking sarcastic jokes

writes you long thoughtful texts when your apart, updates you about his day, asks you how yours went

becomes super attentive when your sad or stressed

wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea

i feel like he'd hate the feeling of having a crush

but once he's in a relationship, lowkey a romantic, buy you books he'd think you'd like, jewelry that compliments your skin tone

NSFW

overthinks everything at first

constantly asks "is this okay? are you sure?"

like i said, super attentive, he needs to make sure you're okay

loves eye contact while fucking you

gets really shy when you take control but secretly loves it

prefers slow deliberate strokes and touches

has a thing for neck kisses– both giving and receiving

talks your through it

"you're perfect" "you feel so good"

gets competitive if you tease him about lasting longer

please kiss his freckles... he'll go absolutely feral

not afraid to leave hickeys, scratches or nail prints on you

wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and his life is yours LOL

i think missionary would be his favorite position

needs to see your face

it's his life mission to make you squirt...

loves fingering you

sit on his face ?

super embarrassed about his moans, but lets it out anyways lmfao

loves your titties, no matter the size

will beg you to let him cum in you

☆ kenny mccormick

we all know kenny is a natural flirt

will wink, smirk, and use cheesy pick-up lines to make you blush

loves physical affection

always has an arm around your waist

makes you laugh constantly

goes to extreme lengths to see you smile, whether it's his silly pranks or grand gestures

draws little hearts and doodles on your notebooks/texts

if he's super bored, he'll draw on your skin lmfao

super duper protective— he'll walk you home late at night and make sure you're always safe

loves taking you on adventurous dates, especially sneaking into places you're not supposed to be

calls you "babe," "sweetheart," or "princess" with that drawl of his hehe

not above embarrassing himself, will write cringe worthy poems or songs and serenade you

immediately notices when you're a little bit off

pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back

buys you little trinkets and steals snacks from eric, saying, "i saw this and thought of you!"

obsessed with kissing you, he'll lean in for a quick peck and smirks when he notices your smile

immediately goes back in for a longer kiss

i think he's super good at braiding hair, and loves playing with yours!

please wear his band tees <3

NSFW

super duper confident, definitely knows what he's doing

loves teasing you, using soft kisses and touches to drive you crazy before giving in

worships your body, tracing every curve with his lips and hands

like kyle, adores it when you take charge and being at your mercy

whispers dirty things in your ear, his voice low and sultry

"you're so fuckin' beautiful babe, I can't get enough of you."

VOCAL AS FUCK ! he'll groan, sigh, whisper your name, letting you know exactly how good you're making him feel

has a downright pornographic moan....

obviously a boob guy, he'll suck and manhandle your tits like there's no tomorrow

will cop a feel secretly infront of others as well LOL

also a thigh and neck guy—he'll kiss, nip, and mark you like he's marking a claim on you

definitely cums alot.... i'm sorry lmfao

dirty as fuck as well... spits in your mouth, puts his fingers in your mouth, making you suck him

taps his tip against your tongue, smearing his precum all over your lips

a big fan of sloppy toppy, grabbing your hair and face fucking you

he's tew good with his tongue... and so so messy when eating you out

will not hold back with his noises, literally slurping ???

loves loves loves overstimulation

favorite position is mating press, loves looking at where you guys connect

cusses when he cums

will crack some corny joke afterward to make you laugh,

"so... we're pretty good at this, huh?" and giggles like a schoolgirl

loves cuddling afterwards!

☆ eric cartman

definitely does grand gestures

brags to everyone about being in a relationship

"yeah, she's lucky to have me."

nobody believes that...

hates PDA in theory, but secretly loves it when you grab his hand or kiss his cheek

he'll complain, but his blushing face gives him away

sends you the most random memes and videos throughout the day as his way of saying he's thinking abt you <3

gets ridiculously competitive when it comes to impressing you

if someone else buys you flowers, he'll show up with a bouquet and stuffed animal, screaming profanities at the other person

jealousss to the max

glares daggers at everyone he perceives a threat, coming up with some sick and twisted plan is his head to take 'em down

gets super pouty when you tease him, but loves the banter between the two of you "i'm not fat, i'm big-boned and you know it!"

will absolutely demand you come over to "study", but in reality he just wants to spend time with you hehehe

has a soft spot when you baby him a little

like brushing his hair or adjusting his hoodie, he'll pretend to hate it but he's melting inside

if you're upset, he'll try to cheer you up in his own weird way...

usually a mix of crude jokes and awkward affection ??

please don't cry infront of him, he'll just panic

keeps a picture of you on his phone as his lock screen, and gets super defensive if anyone points it out

"shut up kahl! it's not even a big deal!"

gaslights the hell out of you, but eventually gives in when he realizes you'll just gaslight him back

will bring you up in any and every conversation, and doesn't care if it annoys the fuck out of his friends

proudly shows off your achievements and loudly declare that you're the bestest girlfriend in the world !

until you piss him off...

NSFW

talks a big game about being dominant and kinky

but he's secretly all about soft and sensual moments with you <3

loves loves loves being in control, rarely lets you take the lead

he needs to boost his ego somehow!

will grab your jaw to force you to look at him, his nails pressing hard into your cheeks

"awe, my poor baby is being fucked too dumb, can't even speak properly"

i'm sorry, but this man never shuts up in bed

whether it's dirty talk or low/breathy moans, he's always yapping

really mean too ):

depending on his mood, he'll either take you to pound town, or just veryy lazy sex

gets flustered if you tell him how good he's making you feel, and fails majorly covering it up

"well, duh. i'm amazing."

loves leaving hickeys—he'll mark you in places just barely hidden, so you're always reminded your his.

obsessed with the fat of your ass and tits, doesn't matter the size—he's all about kisses and touches

will 100% lose focus if you whisper in his ear

his cocky demeanor crumbles instantly, and he's completely at your mercy

gets embarrassed easily if you get too emotional, crying and pawing at his chest that you feel too good

this man does not own a single condom... he'll just pull out and paint your stomach

edges you when he's in a particularly bad mood, and only gives in when you're begging

definitely prefers receiving over giving, but likes the feeling of your walls clamping down on his fingers

asks you to stick out your tongue so he can see the load he blew LMFAOO WHY DID I WRITE THIS

i can't decide if he'd prefer doggy style or cowgirl, so ig just depends on his mood?

has a secret stash of candles or mood lighting for when things get "serious"

will deny deny deny it if anyone ever finds out.

his aftercare is surprisingly sweet— he'll tuck you in, grab snacks, and make sure you're comfortable before he starts pretending he doesn't care <3

☆ butters stotch

is THE definition of doting boyfriend

he'll write you sweet notes and hide them in your bag for you to find later

always asks for your opinion on everything

from what outfit he should wear to what movie the two of you should watch

he just wants to make you happy 😭

blushes like crazy when you compliment him, his hands fidgeting nervously as he stammers out a thank you

will call you every nickname under the sun

"sweet pie," "honeybunch," "cutie patootie"

he's so genuine it's impossible not to grab his cheeks and smile

loves holding hands—it makes him feel safe and connected to you

like stan, he'll swing your arms as you walk, grinning ear to ear

will apologize profusely for the tiniest things, even if it's not his fault

"oh, gosh, i’m sorry! did I step on your toe?"

keeps a running list of all your favorite things so he can surprise you with thoughtful gifts or dates!

if you're upset, he'll bake you cookies or cupcakes and sit with you until you feel better

"it's okay to cry, you know. i'm here."

absolutely adores cuddling, but gets super shy at first

once he's comfortable, he's wrapping you in the coziest of hugs

brings you flowers he picked from the campus quad, tied with a little ribbon

"i hope you like ‘em! i thought they were real purdy."

gets starry-eyed whenever you talk about your dreams or passions

he's your biggest cheerleader and believes you can do anything!

definitely giggles as you try to kiss all over his face

allows you to paint his nails, so you both can match

kisses your scratches/bruises whenever you get hurt, then patches you up himself

takes candid photos of you, so he'll always remember the feeling of moments with you <3

NSFW

don't let this man fool you...

he'll act all nervous and shy at first

he'll blush bright red when you undress in front of him

he'll nervously kiss every inch of your skin, murmuring soft compliments as he goes

he'll shyly ask, "is it okay if i touch you there?"

like he's not about to have you begging for him to keep going

once he realizes how much you're into it, he flips a switch

suddenly his shy little kisses turn into biting your lip

pinning you down

murmuring in a low voice, "i'll take care of you, baby"

he'll start slow, watching you squirm under his touch

but he's secretly enjoying the power of making you lose control

SLEEPER AGENT OF KINK

you think he's all soft neck kisses and hand-holding

then he's tugging your hair, love bites on your shoulder

and growling in your ear, "you like that, don't you?"

his hands, his mouth, and his cock alternate between gentle and rough to keep you on edge <3

the moans he'll let out would be so loud and unrestrained

completely enamored with your body

big fan of overstimulation

thrives on praise

eager to learn as well!!

positions where he can see everything—your expressions, your body, the way you react to his touch—drive him wild

not afraid to try something new!

and when it's all over, he's right back to his soft and sweet self

kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms like he wasn't doing unspeakable things to you five minutes ago.

can you still guess who my favorite is... 💀 also i'm so sorry for whatever this was

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XIII

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Ladies and gentlemen be very careful because this chapter challenged me in a way I didn't know it would. There is smut. Who would i thought that I, Me, MOI, would write smut haha... I hope you'll enjoy it either way because it's my first time writing a coitus scene.

You stared at the body in front of you. You were almost scared that he would open his eyes and you would have to fight once more. You could take him. You knew you could and you would. Even if he was crawling from Hell, you would shoot him once more.

“ Is he…dead?” you whispered, never shifting your eyes from the man. There was so much blood pouring out of him. How were you going to clean him? How were you going to explain his wounds? 

You gasped as you were tugged into a warm chest. You lifted your eyes to see Alastor beaming at you. He began to dance with you, making you twirl in the snow while singing a song you used to dance to in clubs. You laughed as he nuzzled his nose against yours. You closed your eyes as you let him guide you in his dance, lifting you in the air before caging you in his arms.

“ You were perfect, dearest ! I don’t think I could have thought of a better performance !” he kissed your face multiple times without stopping as you laughed heartily. You cupped his face between your hands, looking at him with all the emotions you could conjure. “ Now dearest…”

He put you down before taking something out of his pocket and you couldn’t help but gasp as he kneeled in front of you. Alastor was kneeling. You knew him from his younger age and he was too prideful to show any kind of humility, ever, and yet there he was, in front of you, all bruises, bleeding from his nose and lips, kneeling in front of you with a red little box in front of you.

“ This is your last chance to run away” he scoffed “ but you know now that I can catch you.. But I’ll let you believe you have a choice.” he smirked at you, opening the box, showing you a golden ring.

You laughed, shaking your head, as if you would say no to him no. You smiled as he slid the ring on your finger, watching him as he kissed it and then tugged you against him, kissing you like a mad man.

You cupped his face as you kissed him feverishly. You needed air, but you didn’t want to break away from Alastor, you wanted his lips against yours. You pushed your body against him as he laid you down on the snow. Your kisses still tasted like blood but you didn’t care. You were rolling your body against him, wanting to feel him closer, more than ever. You were feeling hot like lava even though you were against the cold snow. 

Without even being aware of it you spread your legs so Alastor could settle between them. You moaned as you tried to push your hips against him, making him groan against your tongue. You nipped at his lips as his hand settled on your waist, going under your shirt. You gasped as you felt his hand caressing your skin underneath the bloodied shirt. 

“ Dearest… If you keep sounding like that…” he panted, staring at your face with dilated pupils. He was staring at you as if he wanted to devour you. Maybe that should have made you scared but you felt more excited than you expected. You clumsily took off your shirt, throwing it on the snow, keeping your eyes on Alastor. You felt your nipples harden because of the cold but you didn’t care. You only cared for one person right now and it was yourself.

“ I want my dear husband to claim me for himself.”

You bit your lips as Alator took off his jacket, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while staring at you like you were his prey. You did read books about sex, but you were still nervous. Would it hurt? Would Alastor enjoy it? Would Alastor enjoy your body?

You moaned as you stared at Alastor’s torse. He was beautiful. His scars were decorating his lean muscles, his arms were flexing with every move he was doing. You blushed as you felt a wet substance on your panty.  Were you really that excited because Alastor was shirtless? 

Alastor stared at you, moving slowly, like stalking a prey, or waiting for you to say you didn’t want anything that's happening right now. You needed to satisfy him. What were the books saying…? 

You quickly took off your pants, being only in a pair of bra and panty. From what you have read, men wanted to be inside women as quickly as possible. You blushed furiously but you wouldn’t back down now!

Alastor’s hand stopped you from taking your panty off as he bent toward your thighs.

“ I’ve always wanted to take a bite of those sinfully thighs of yours.” 

You moaned as you felt him kiss your skin, caressing in a comforting manner your waist. You gripped his hand as he licked, bit and kissed your thighs, marking them with his teeth. You tried to stop your moans but thinking about the fact that Alastor was the one touching you was making you lightheaded. It wasn’t like in the books, you were supposed to be the one making him feel good!

“ I know you are thinking about your stupid books. I’ll stop if you think about anything else but us right now.” he bit your thighs harder, making you moan. 

“But…But how am I supposed to know how to please you..?” you sighed as his hands were caressing your belly. You tilted your head against the snow, your eyes looking shyly at Alastor who had his eyes straight trained on you.

“ Like you always did. By being yourself.” he licked the marks he had made on your skin before tilting his head against your smooth thighs. “ What do you wish for ?”

You blushed, looking away but he took your chin with his hands, forcing you to look at him. You knew he hated when you were trying to hide yourself from him. You inhaled deeply.

“ I want… to touch you…” you whispered. He smiled at you before moving above you. You stared at his face, making sure he was okay as your cold hand touched his torso. His body was so hot against your hands. You caressed his skin, going toward his shoulder then his back. You saw him sigh as he closed his eyes, going toward your neck to kiss your skin there. 

Feeling him so close to you was so overwhelming and yet, you wanted to feel even closer to him. You timidly pushed your pelvis against his, making him hiss. You stop moving, trying to see his face. Were you doing something bad? You felt his hand dug into your waist.

“ Is… is it okay..?” you asked but before you could once push yourself against him you felt him tugged you against his pelvis making you moan. You could feel something hard against your panty and you blushed. Was it Alastor’s member..? You bit your lips as you moved against him, moaning louder. God, he felt so good… “ Should we…?”

You looked at Alastor as he chuckled against your skin. He leaned away from your body, looking at you fondly. “ Dearest, you must think I don’t know anything about sex, but, trust me, I know what I want to do to you.” he kissed your lips then trailed down toward your panty. What was he…? “ And as you know, I’m greedy with what I desire.” you kissed your crotch through your panty, making you gasp. “ If you allow me…”

You were blushing madly but you wanted it so badly. You spread your legs, your body twitching from anticipation. Alastor was licking you through your panty while keeping his eyes on you. You tilted your head back, your legs squeezing his head. You didn’t know what was happening but you were loving every second of it.

You moaned loud when you felt his tongue against your bare sex. You looked at him, he had his eyes closed, kissing and licking your vulva like it was  the best dish he had ever had the blessing to eat. You couldn’t contain your voice as you moaned his name, gripping his air tightly.

Alastor was eating you out. The Alastor you have known all your life. The one who didn’t give a damn about other people’s existence,the one who had never looked at other people as more than tools, the one who had just killed his own father was laying in the snow, eating you out like a starved man.

You screamed as you arched your back, feeling a warm tingle in your belly getting hotter and hotter. You were moving your hips against his lips without being aware of it, moaning Alastor’s name again and again.

And then you snapped.

Your whole body was shaking as you moaned his name so loudly you would be embarrassed if you cared. Your hips were twitching as Alastor recolted your sweet release with his tongue.  He leaned back with his charming smile; his lips and chin wet because of your pleasure and yet, he still had blood on his face. He looked devilishly breathtaking.

“ How is my wife feeling?” he smirked as he stared at you. You were breathing hard, tears falling down your eyes. You weren’t feeling nervous anymore, at all. You wanted him completely.

“ I want you.” you sat up slowly, taking your bra off, and shivered when you saw his eyes fall on your chest. You approached him slowly, pressing your chest against his naked torso and kissed him. You could taste yourself and blood on his lips. It was.. It was weird but not disgusting. You forced him to sit as you straddled his laps, kissing him with more vigor. You pressed your pelvis against his hard clothed member. You shivered as you imagined him inside of you.

Alastor inside of you.

That thought could have made you orgasmed once more.

You leaned back to watch his face. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing hard but he was staring at your face, his pupils dilated and this oh so delicious glint that was only for you. His madness was for you and only you. You nipped at his lips, staring at his eyes. You wanted to pleasure him like he just did, you wanted to show him how he meant to you. You remembered reading a book about sucking a man’s shaft. You leaned back, looking down on his clothed member. 

Sucking Alastor’s cock.. Yes, it was something you wanted…

“ You thought about your books.” 

“ N-no– Well, yes, but I want to.. if you want of course.. Do what you have done to me… I want to suck your… Well..” you blushed looking away. He took your face with his hand while the other was playing with your clit. You moaned, staring at his smiling face. He leaned toward your ears.

“ No. Maybe next time you will not think about your books.”

You tried to complain but you just moaned louder, gripping his shoulder, as he slowly entered you with one finger. He was playing with you ! 

“ Please… I really want it..!” you tried to convince him. You wanted to see Alastor lose control over himself because of you.

“ No my dearest, that’s your punishment for thinking about something other than us.” He grinned at you. You frowned and bit his neck as hard as you could, making him groan. You were moving your hips against his hands, his palm grinding against your clit as you bit him on his shoulder again and again.

You squealed as Alastor pinned you underneath him, breathing hard. You tried to take off his belt, making chuckle at your eagerness. He took off his belt slowly, making you whine impatiently. 

You gasped as you saw his hard shaft. You could feel your vagina clench around nothing as you looked at what was supposed to go inside of you. You bit your lips, laying down on the snow while staring at Alastor, spreading your legs.  You wanted him. You wanted him so much you felt like losing yourself to madness.

“ Darling…” he whispered and he pressed himself against you. You kissed his lips multiple times, your arms around his shoulder. You tensed as you felt him enter you very carefully. It was.. a strange feeling actually. You tilted your head back as Alastor was kissing your neck, trying to make you feel something else than what you were feeling between your legs. 

It wasn’t… that hurtful. You groaned as you tense your legs around his hips.It was manageable. You just needed time to adjust. You moaned as Alastor bit your neck, stopping his hips. He kissed your lips easily making you forget the pain between your legs.

You began to move your hips and smiled against his lips as you felt no pain.

“ Are you okay..?” you felt Alastor ask against your lips, a sweet whisper that made you feel safer than anything else. You were in the woods, having your virginity taken on the dirtied floor and yet, you couldn’t feel happier.

“ I’ve never felt better.” you whispered back against his lips. He smiled at you before kissing you languishly. You moaned against his lips as you felt his back’s muscles flexed against your nails. You were enveloped with his scent, his body, everything. He was inside you, in the deepest part of your body. He was panting against your skin, his hips moving faster. 

You scratched his back, marking him as yours. You both were one. In body and soul. You tilted your head back against the snow as your moans were getting louder and louder. Alastor was the only thing you could feel. The only thing you wanted to feel. You didn’t know where your own body started or where Alastor’s body ended. 

Hearing him groaned because of you was thrilling. This man who used to be so composed even when killing a man was having no control over his own body because of you. Those thoughts made you snap.

You felt your walls clenched around his shaft as you came around him once more. You heard him swear as you locked your legs around him, making him unable to escape from you.

“ Darling…” he chuckled breathlessly. “ I’m at my limit…” he panted, his member twitching inside you.

“ I want you to come inside me.” you plead.

His pupils dilated before he bit you on your chest, where your heart was beating. You sighed with delight as you felt him release his semence, moving his hips until every drop of his seed was settled inside you. You were stroking his back, like a silent apology for the marks you have made. Alastor was breathing against your chest, stroking your waist. Both of you stayed like this, sweaty, in a comfortable silence until you couldn’t take it.

You giggled before laughing loudly.

Alastor looked at you, amused with raised eyebrows. You smiled at him, kissing him once more on his lips.

“ I’m just happy..” you said, caressing the side of his face. He took your hand and kissed it, staring at you.

“ So am I.” 

You looked at him as he left your warm entrance. You were beginning to feel the cold weather now. Alastor helped you dress up, winking at you when you blushed because you could feel his sperm sliding down your thighs. Alastor walked toward the dead man.

Oh yes, you killed someone.

He crouched in front of his deceased father.

“ Darling, you should go back home. I’ll take care of the … leftovers.”

You walked toward him, embracing him from behind.

“ You don’t need my help?”

“ You already help me, dearest. I’ll just enjoy one last moment with my father. Go back to my Mother, she must be worried.”

You really didn’t want to be separate from Alastor. Not after everything that happened. Alastor must have sensed it because he kissed your ringed hands before standing up. You nodded at him, kissing him one last time before going back to his house. You did try to find the fawn that had miraculously helped you, but unfortunately you didn’t meet it during your way back.

You opened the door, you would have to explain to Marie why you looked like a bloodied mess. You walked toward the kitchen, you could hear the shower so Marie must be bathing right now. You saw two plates with a note. It was from Marie, she had written that she kept two plates for the both of you.

The both of you.

There was yours and Alastor’s name written on the paper.

You smirked before putting the note in the fire, destroying a possible clue.

Marie knew her husband wouldn’t come home, that’s why there wasn't a third plate.

You had to calm Marie down when she saw the state of your face. You laughed as she treated you but you reassured her. You were as capable as a nurse now, you have been treating your father since he came back from war. Those were nothing to worry about.

You could see her hands shaking but you both didn’t address the elephant in the room. She did pause when she was cleaning the blood from your face and neck.

“ Is that a.. hickey dear..?”

You blushed furiously making her giggled at you. You hid your face behind your hands as Marie was laughing affectionately at you. She took your hand and looked at your ring.

“ So, now, you are my daughter in law?” you giggled as you both began to talk about a wedding reception. You talked for hours, only stopping when Alastor entered the house. It was already dawn time but you weren’t feeling tired. He smiled at his mother and you knew it was time for you to go. They had to share this moment together. You stood up saying you were going home, refusing Alastor’s demand to accompany you home.

You hugged Marie and kissed Alastor cheeks. You wouldn’t kiss him in front of his Mother! But as you stepped out of the door, you were being tugged against a warm familiar chest, you closed your eyes as you felt his lips on yours. You smiled softly at him, caressing his cheek with your ringed hands that he kissed.

He let you go as you walked home. Your nose wasn’t broken and your bruises weren’t visible yet, and from what you saw in the mirror, you could always tell people you fell down the stairs because of the ice. You entered your house quietly, everyone was still sleeping, perfect.

You walked toward your bedroom, smiling like a fool. You undressed yourself and looked at your body in front of the mirror. You had hickeys on your chest, neck and thighs. You blushed as you saw white semence dripping from your vagina. 

You really did it… You needed to tell Alice tomorrow ! 

After washing up you fell asleep as easily as usual. You woke up around 11am, which surprised your mother when she saw you already dress up. You kissed her cheek with a big grin.

“ Where is dad?”

“He went to work, why?” she asked before screaming out of shock when you showed her your ring. “ It’s from Alastor, right? Of course it is ! Oh my baby !” she hugged you, crying from emotion. You felt tears in your eyes too. You didn’t know why but telling your mother you were getting married was… it was moving. She was already naming brands for your wedding dress.

You talked with your mother for hours before you decided it was time to tell Alice. You went out, making sure the hickeys weren’t visible. You talked toward Alice’s mansion, greeting the butler that was now used to you. You were brought to the living room, waiting for your friend. 

But you were surprised when you saw her coming with… Alizée was it? You stood up as Alice hugged you. You looked at Alyzée who seemed uncomfortable. Why was she here? Alice took the woman's hand and forced her to sit on the sofa. Well, you weren’t going to force her to leave, you didn’t know her, your only knowledge was from Alastor: she was the mayor’s daughter.

You talked with Alice, trying to coat Alyzée to talk with you which, after some time, she did seem more comfortable with your presence.

“ But I came here for news that will please you, I’m sure.” you smirked as Alice stood up.

“ Do I need to bring the wine?”

“ Yes.”

She clapped her hands, calling for a butler to bring three glasses and two bottles of wine. You laughed as the butler came with Alice’s order. She waited for the butler to leave before serving you and Alyzée a drink.

You waited for Alice to take a sip of wine before showing your ring. She spat on the table before screaming while Alyzée was smiling widely, clapping her hands together. You laughed as Alice shook your shoulder, looking at the ring then shook your shoulder once again. Alyzée congratulated you with a beaming smile making you feel relieved. 

You might have felt some jealousy for the beautiful woman in the past but not anymore.

You drank glasses and glasses of wine as you explained how you got married without the gory details. Quickly enough, there were three drunk women in the living room.

“ But we didn’t just get married.” you giggled drunkenly. You showed them your neck, decorated by Alastor hickeys. Alice shouted while Alyzée was whistling.

“ Oh my girl!” Alice hugged you before sitting back down. “ If we are going on with secrets, I might have something to say!” she raised her glass as you and Alyzée stared at her curiously. “ I… I am in love with someone and we are in a secret relationship.” 

You choked on your wine as Alyzée spat in on the floor. 

“ What? When? Who?” you struggled to speak as you tried not to cough. Alice put her glass on the table and watched you, her face flushed from the alcohol but she seemed worried.

“ I hope you won’t hate me after this.” she said before kissing the Alyzée on the lips.

Alice was kissing Alyzée.

Alice was in a relationship with Alyzéee.

A woman.

…

Alice was in love!

The two women separated themselves, looking at each other with love. You felt tears in your eyes as you stood up, making Alice stand up too with a worried expression. You ran toward her and hugged her, crying. Your best friend was in love, she was happily in love. You cried harder as you felt Alice sobbed against you.

“ I was so afraid you would see me as a disgusting being.” she cried as you hugged you tighter against you.

“ No, I would never!” you said before wiping your eyes. You looked at Alyzée and hugged her too. You knew it would be difficult for them to be in a relationship but you would help them in any way you could!

The evening went one, you’ve got to know Alyzée who was a very intelligent woman, a little more down to earth than Alice but maybe it was better for your best friend. You looked at the windows, it was already night time and you didn’t remember the last time you were this drunk.

“ Miss, you have a guest.”

Alice looked at the butler, confused. The butler stepped aside and your soon to be husband walked into the living room. You smiled with delight as he thanked the butler who closed the door behind him.

“ Ladies, good evening.”

You stood up, trying to run toward him but everything was spinning. Alastor walked quickly toward you and made you sit down.You giggled as you nuzzled against him. You wanted to tell him about Alyzée and Alice but it was not your choice to make. The four of you began to talk, whiskey was brought to Alastor as you all gossip about what was going on in New Orleans.

“ I hope one day, I will be able to marry you Alyzée…” whined Alice, as she hugged her girlfriend. Alyzée just smiled sadly before kissing the crown of her head. You looked at Alastor who drank his whiskey, he didn’t seem surprised or disgusted. “ I’m jealous Alastor is getting married before me! When you arrived, I thought you both had a fight! I mean, you don’t even wear your necklace!”

You paled as your hand went toward your neck.

The necklace.

You left it there.

“ Well, let's just say my fiancée left it at my house,” said Alastor with a calm face. He took something out of his pocket and you almost cried from relief as you saw your necklace dangling from his fingers.” So I came here to give it back to her.”

You sighed in relief. Thank god Alastor was there.

The  night went on as Alastor played the piano while Alice was forcing Alyzée to dance with her. You laughed as you sat next to Alastor, singing while he played. You stared at the ladies dancing with each other, their gazes never drifting from each other. You felt sad, knowing you would get married soon but your best friend might never have this chance. You didn’t know if Alastor felt what you were feeling, but he never stopped playing the piano and you never stopped singing, leaving the two ladies having their own fragile moments.

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor

[totheblood]

all-american bitch!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: mostly fluff, cursing, suggestive themes maybe.

a/n:i wrote this for my monthly challenge in our writing server, so if you see GUTS themed ellie and abby fics... that's why.... so i chose the song, all american bitch because i thought it would be a difficult write and wanted to challenge myself. so this one is a little shorter and i hope you enjoy! AI AUDIO in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"with perfect all-american lips."

ellie wanted to hate you.

with every fiber in her being, she wanted to hate you. but as she sat in the student center, laptop open and earbuds in, she couldn’t help but stare. from her place at the table she could see you wide-eyed and grinning, talking to a group of people she didn’t know. when you laughed you touched the shoulder of the guy to your right, but when you smiled you leaned into the girl to your left. she noticed how you looked at people when they spoke, hanging onto every word they were saying. every time the group would laugh at a joke or statement you made, she watched as you nervously fiddled with the necklace loosely hung around your neck with your initial on it. 

she wanted to hate you but she didn’t. instead, she hated everything she thought you represented. the mean girls in the movies or the girl next door. you were somehow all of it wrapped up in one. she didn’t know you at all but somehow you were the perfect all-american -

“bitch!” a girl sitting across from you screamed, throwing her full cup of coke onto your face, causing everyone to stand up and gasp. ellie stood up with them, removing her headphones and ignoring the pull of dina’s hand, asking her what she was doing. 

you wiped the sticky liquid from your eyes, and tried to get as much of it off your face so you could walk back to your dorm. when you began picking up your things and noticed no one was going to follow you, ask if you were okay, or defend you, a tear formed in your eye. you, however, was determined to not cry in front of most of the people that attended this school. instead, you scurried off as quickly as you could.

ellie didn’t even notice she was following you till the brisk fall air hit her face. your feet were moving faster than her mind was going, but she was determined to catch up. 

“hey,” she called out. you didn’t turn around though, you just kept walking. from where she was she could hear your sniffles, “hey! are you okay?”

that got your attention. you stopped, not turning around, and waited for ellie to circle around you and say something.

“are you okay?” she asked again, watching your stunned face. she ignored the bubbling in her stomach at being this close to you. she could see every detail of your face, every crease, every freckle, and every pore. you were prettier up close, “i saw what happened back there… it looked brutal.”

“i’m,” a tear slipped from your face and onto your already damp clothes, ellie was sooooo not looking at your tits right now, “i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” she asked again, eyes searching your face for an answer, “none of your friends came to check on you?”

“i guess they aren’t really friends, huh,” you laughed dryly, wiping at your eye again.

“just shitty ones,” she joked back, “look, do you want me to help you get cleaned up? maybe you can vent to me about whatever the fuck that just was.

your eyes scanned her face this time, “why would you do that? you don’t know me?”

“i think you may be in need of some new friends,” she smiled, making you crack a small one.

“very true.”

------

ellie helped wipe the coke off your face and neck. since it had been sitting on your skin for a while it had gone sticky, and you were getting choked up trying to wipe everything off. plus, ellie was so nice and tender, gently rubbing at your skin and making sure she wasn’t rubbing to hard. she held your face in her hand, turning it and using your roomates expensive facewash to get it clean. when it came to your chest she backed up, saying a, “i shouldn’t.”

“why?” you asked, “we’re both girls.”

“i think i’m supposed to ask you out on a date before doing that.” she chuckled, stepping back a little further, expecting rejection, a slap in the face, anything.

“oh,” you said, eyeing her up and down, head-turning and lips pursed when you saw her tattoos, “could have figured from the tattoo alone.”

“hey! are you saying my tattoo makes me look gay?” she laughed, a big bright smile on her face. this time when you smiled you showed your teeth. ellie’s face turned a bright red, as she looked down. she made you smile, she was proud of that.

“it’s a dead giveaway that you’re gay,” you giggled again. ellie looked up at you, squinting her eyes. 

“if you knew that i was gay then, why did you let me come in and?” ellie’s voice got quiet, she didn’t want you to think she was a creep. it’s not like she came in here to flirt with you, or did she. the way you were looking at her was making all her thoughts mesh together into slush.

“i don’t know,” your voice was teasing, you were fucking teasing her, “maybe i wanted a cute girl to come in here and clean me up.”

“cute?” ellie laughed.

“yeah, cute,” you repeated, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, “like how you’re blushing right now. that’s cute.”

ellie’s face got even redder somehow, causing her to hang her head and pinch the bridge of her nose, “fuck.”

“were you going for hot?” you asked, reaching for her from your place on the bathroom counter, pulling at the sleeves of her oversized t-shirt so she would move closer to you. 

“what about my t-shirt doesn’t scream hot?” she looked up now, and fuck was she close to you. 

“cute and funny,” you smiled, eyes bright, “who would’ve thought?”

ellie looked away again, flustered still, but still in your grasp, “you forgot respectable.”

you laughed and ellie was close enough to feel your breath on her neck. she shivered, but her eyes met yours again.

“when are you going to ask?” you whispered, voice low.

“what?”

“the date?” you clarified, making her smile grow again.

“oh, yeah,” she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, “do you want to go on a date with me?”

“yes.”

[worldlxvlys]

speed

chris sturniolo x singer! reader

warnings: smuttt, fingering, oral (male receiving), no actual p in v

a/n: this is for @annamcdonalds67 ‘s writing challenge !! hope you enjoy <33

la da da da

da da da

the crowd went crazy after hearing only the first few chords of the unreleased song that i’d been teasing for weeks.

considering the fact that they’d never heard the full song, i found it funny how many people genuinely loved the song.

if i told you how much i think about her

you’d think i was in love

i looked out to the sea of people in front of me, growing slightly nervous at the thought of every single one of their attention being on me.

i had definitely performed before, but never in front of a crowd of people this large.

and if you knew how much i looked at her pictures

you would think we’re best friends

my nerves eased a little when i actually looked at the crowd. my eyes bounced from person to person, seeing bright smiles, tears of happiness, and people singing along.

deciding to pretend as though i wasn’t singing in front of an insane amount of people, i let myself enjoy the song.

as the words flew past my mouth and into the microphone, i thought about how excited chris was when i first played the song for him.

right before i got to the chorus, i looked over to the VIP section, immediately catching his gaze.

CHRIS’S POV

when i caught her gaze, there seemed to be a glint of something in her eyes, but i couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

although her face held a sweet smile, i could tell she was about to do something that would have me struggling to contain myself.

i’m starin’ at her like i wanna get hurt

and i remember every detail you have ever told me

so be careful, baby

she began to jump around on stage, her energy and happiness becoming contagious as everyone around her seemed to bask in it.

any nerves that she may have had at the beginning of the song easily washed away as she sang.

i’m so obsessed with your ex

yeah, i’m so obsessed with your ex

her hair bounced on her shoulders as she moved her head to the beat. she looked majestic, the stage lights giving her body a soft glow.

she’s got those lips, she’s got those hips

the life of every fucking party

it was almost as those she was singing about herself, her hands running up and down her body, my eyes following them.

the confidence she had was evident in her stage presence, making her seem all the more attractive.

she laid on the ground on her side, running her hands down her body while she danced seductively on the floor.

there was something so enticing about it, she made such a simple action look so alluring.

she made her way through the song, the adrenaline seeming to course through her as she bounced around on the stage.

she showed the love and passion that she had for music through a wide smile, her eyes shut as she soaked every moment in.

the further she got into her set, the hornier i got. i tried to stop myself, but my mind was consumed with the things i could do to her in her dressing room. i just needed ten minutes.

her tight skirt inched up her legs slightly with every jump, causing the curve of her ass cheek to peak out.

her low-cut top gave the perfect view her cleavage, the pendant of her gold necklace hanging just above where her tits met.

at this point, i was so hard that i was genuinely in pain. luckily for me, all eyes were on y/n, i didn’t have to worry about anyone noticing my raging hard-on.

“hi everyone!” i heard her speak into the mic, making my head whip up to her direction.

“i hope you guys are enjoying the show so far!” she was met with a roar of applause in response, causing her to let out a light chuckle.

“we’re going to take a brief, ten minute intermission, so go to the bar and grab a drink or snack, and we’ll be back soon!” she spoke, giving a light wave before walking off of the stage.

looks like i got my ten minutes.

“going to the bathroom!” i yelled out to nick and matt, bringing a hand down to cover my crotch as i sped walked to the backstage area.

i flashed the security guard my backstage pass before rushing to y/n’s dressing room.

i knocked on the door loudly, waiting to hear her answer before opening the door.

“oh, chris!” she spoke as i closed and locked the door behind me.

she rushed over to me, a bright smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“i’m so fucking proud of you, baby. you’re so good out there” i spoke into her neck, pressing slow kisses to her neck.

she tilted her head to the side, letting out a small sigh as her fingers slid up to my hair to pull on the brown strands.

“such a good girl for me” i sighed into her neck, “you deserve all of the love” i spoke against her skin.

i moved my head to her chest, leaving kisses to the exposed skin.

her hand quickly found my crotch, beginning to palm me through my pants. “want some help with that?” she asked me.

“i- yes, please” i spoke, my breathing picking up as she sunk onto her knees in front of me.

she pulled my pants and boxers down with one tug, wrapping her hands around my thighs as she licked up the small bit of pre-cum that leaked out of my tip.

she swirled her tongue around it before taking me into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks.

“fuck” i moaned, my hand finding its way to the back of her head.

i attempted to control myself, refraining from moving my hips.

she momentarily pulled her mouth off of me to say, “c’mon baby, fuck my mouth” before moving to take me fully into her mouth again.

i did as she said, beginning to buck my hips into her mouth, holding her head steady.

she glanced up at me through her lashes, eyes filling with unshed tears as i pushed myself in and out of her warm mouth.

i stared down at her tits, watching as they bounced harshly from the force of my hips against her body.

when she caught my gaze, she pulled the straps to her top down to expose her boobs to me.

“oh my god, yes. feels so good” i groaned out when her nose hit my pubic bone, her head shaking side to side.

there was a sudden knock on the door behind me, catching me by surprise as she continued to suck me off.

“5 minutes until you’re on!” a voice said, leaving as quickly as it came.

i watched as her hand disappeared under her skirt, causing her to begin to moan around me.

i could hear the wet sounds of her fingers inside of her pussy, my head flying back at the thoughts running through my head.

i twitched inside of her mouth, causing her to pull away from me. her mouth remained connected to me by a long string of spit while she began to twist her hand around my length.

“ come on chris, you gonna cum for me? all over my tits?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at me.

i was only able to nod my head as my eyes rolled back, thick ropes of my cum flying onto her chest.

she stood up onto her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she grinned at me.

without another word, i turned us around so that her back was facing the door.

i hooked a hand under one of her knees, lifting it up with one hand, the other finding its way under her dress.

“let me return the favor” i spoke as i moved her panties to the side and pushed two fingers into her entrance.

“fuck, chris” she squeaked as her mouth hung open, her head falling back into the door.

her tight walls squeezed around my fingers, clamping down onto them.

there was a pounding on the door behind her, making her let out a yelp in surprise.

i covered her mouth with my hand, while she moaned into it, gripping my forearm harshly.

“2 minutes !” the voice yelled through the door.

she pushed her hips down to meet my movements, desperately chasing her orgasm.

i circled my thumb around her clit, enjoying the way she shuddered under my touch.

her head fell forward onto my shoulder, while her fingers threaded through my hair. she tugged on it harshly, eliciting a deep groan from me.

“you close baby?” i asked as she began to clench around my fingers again.

“yes, please let me cum. i’m so close, chris” she moaned out as her face scrunched up in pleasure.

“let go, princess. make a mess on my fingers”

she looked so pretty like this, her messy makeup running down her blissed-out face.

her legs began to shake, hips jerking up involuntarily and her back arching off of the door.

she let out one last cry of my name before letting go, coating my fingers in her pleasure.

“here, let’s get you cleaned up” i spoke, wiping away the smudged makeup on her cheeks.

i helped her fix herself up, before doing the same for myself.

once we deemed ourselves presentable, i opened the door. i was met with a member of the stage crew, who seemed to be preparing to knock on the door.

he gave us a knowing look before speaking, “you two couldn’t have waited until after the show?”

the two of us glanced at each other, giving the man blank stares.

“you” he pointed to y/n, “need to go get your makeup touched up” he spoke, waving over her makeup artist.

“and you” he pointed to me, “need to go back to your seat. stay away from her until after the show, got it?” he asked as he placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me towards the direction i originally came from.

when i tuned back to look at y/n she was already getting whisked away by her makeup artist.

i made my way back to my seat, meeting my brothers’ gaze. “so, you enjoy your bathroom break?” nick asked, brows raised.

“yeah, it was fine” i spoke, keeping my eyes forward to avoid his gaze.

“really? cause you just came from the opposite direction of the bathroom” matt pointed out.

before i could say anything in response, the crowd broke into a round of loud applause.

i watched y/n walk on stage, lightly smirking at the way her legs lightly shook with each step.

“so subtlety just isn’t your thing, huh?” nick asked.

“never was going for subtlety, just speed”

collide (matt version)

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[makeyoumine69]

Hi! I wish you further growth and inspiration!

My choice is pussy eating and sex toys.

Good luck! 💦💦💦

Fever

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You love going out and having dinner with Patrick, but not when his friends come along, they always make you feel so uncomfortable and insecure. Good thing he has his own ways of reassuring you, right?

CONTAINS: Smut, established relationship, sex toys, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), Daddy kink, Praise kink, Degradation kink, pet names, a lot of cum, nipple play, choking, biting, slight dacryphilia, humiliation, dirty talk, Patrick being a manipulative dickhead.

WORDS: 3.2k

SONG REC: Babydoll x the Perfect Girl 

A/N: This day finally came, and I finished my first writing challenge, which I started to celebrate my 200 followers! Thank you so much, guys, for standing by my side. I love you and I hope you like it!🖤

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [BWC MASTERLIST] 💗

Dorsia, just the mention of the name of that establishment was enough to make Batman frown and clench his jaw in annoyance. Nonetheless, that was the exact place you and him wanted to spend that evening, and when you finally took your seats at the best table in Dorsia, Patrick's face was like a wax statue, it was impossible to read any of his emotions.

Tim, Craig, David and their bimbos couldn’t stop rumbling even for one second and that actually annoyed Bateman, but on the other hand he used it as an opportunity to whisper filthy things right into your ear, taking advantage of the fact that no one else was paying attention due to the ruckus.

“Did my good girl do her homework while I was away?” He nuzzled against your neck, and you fidgeted on your chair uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed. “I can’t wait until we get alone.”

“I bet you do.” You reply shortly, without breaking eye contact with him.

Pleased, Patrick leaned on the chair back, his sly smile speaking for itself. Sneakily, he placed his palm on your knee to play with the hem of your cocktail dress, only to tease you and induce you to try closing your legs. With a muffled gasp, you caught his dexterous hand just at the moment everyone looked at both of you.

"So, Bateman. How was your business trip?" Craig asked with a cheeky grin. "Did you enjoy LA? I hear the chicks there are pretty hot."

The men started laughing together as if they shared the same brain cell, and you used that moment to brush Patrick's palm away, which actually made him a little upset, so he paused and coughed a little.

"McDermott, you can go to LA and see everything with your own eyes!" Patrick scoffed and took a sip of his drink. "I don't want to give any spoilers."

Sighing, you pulled yourself together as you repeated to yourself over and over again that you wouldn't let their childish behavior get under your skin. The girls — models, supposedly — looked at each other in frustration, but neither Bateman nor his colleagues seemed to care.

"God, Bateman! Now I'm intrigued!" McDermott chuckled before lighting his cigarette. 

With a mischievous smirk, Patrick hugged your shoulders when he saw a glimpse of sadness in your beautiful, big eyes, and you couldn't help but smile timidly at David's comment:

"Look at them, just two lovebirds." 

"Oh, shut up," Bateman blurted out jokingly. "Being jealous isn't a good thing." 

Van Patten rolled his eyes at Patrick's remark, but immediately lost interest when the girl next to him leaned down to his neck and whispered something.

"Patrick?" You called his name so softly that it elicited a muffled gasp from his broad chest.

"Yes, dear?" He replied, looking at you lovingly and moving even closer so that you could whisper in his ear.

"When are we going home?"

"Do you want to go?" He 'accidentally' touched your cheek with his perfectly shaped nose, making your heart skip a beat.

"No, I was just asking."

"It's not a problem, honey." Bateman leaned even closer to kiss the area behind your ear. "Besides. I'm starving."

"But we just ate." You almost squealed when he discreetly pinched your thigh under the table, his dark grin sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him.

“You know what I mean, babydoll.” He crooned in a low voice, not giving a fuck about how attentively his coworkers were looking at both of you.

“I–” You wanted to talk back to him, but he suddenly cut you off, standing up and removing the napkin from his knees.

“Gentlemen, sorry, but we have to go.” 

“So soon? What happened, Bateman?” Craig tried to sound sassy, but when he didn’t get any attention, his face went plain.

“Don’t worry, McDermott. We will get back to our conversation one day.” Patrick winked at him and offered you a hand, expecting you to take it. When you did, he pressed a brief kiss on the back of your hand.

Tim whistled at the sight and you ignored him, but you couldn't stop Patrick from shamelessly grabbing your ass as you two were leaving.

“Have fun, Bateman. But don’t make your neighbors call the cops.” Bryce added, making everyone laugh. Frowning, you looked at Patrick, expecting him to say something that would calm his coworkers down.

“I’ll call them if you don’t return those porn videotapes I gave you last week.” Bateman crooned with a cheeky smile and after that, he led you to the exit, so you could only catch a glimpse of Timothy’s blank face before you eventually left Dorsia.

In the taxi you both remained silent. You couldn't help but feel a little offended by the way his colleagues behaved, and the thing you hated the most was that you knew that if you told Patrick about it, he would just shrug it off and say that there was nothing special about it.

"Honey?" Bateman suddenly interrupted your train of thoughts with his playful voice, as if he could read your mind. Sometimes it was even scary how perfectly he could sense your mood.

"You have terrible friends, you know that?" You replied, disregarding his flirtatious tone.

With a cocky chuckle, he wrapped his hand around your shoulder when he saw you crossing your arms defensively over your chest. 

"Well, I know they're not the greatest people..." He paused, wondering what to say to cheer you up.

"And I don't like it when you treat me like I'm one of those stupid bimbos," you finally turned to him and pushed his hand away harshly. "How many times do I have to explain this to you and—"

His tight grip on your throat made you choke for air, and you nearly shrieked at his unexpected roughness.

"I think you've forgotten who's in charge here, little girl." Patrick growled into your ear, and you thanked God that the partition in the taxi was closed. "How many times have I told you I don't like this kind of attitude?"

Closing your eyes, you whimpered from lack of oxygen and tried to say something, but he didn't even give you the chance to do it as he covered your mouth with his greedy one. Bateman reveled in all your muffled, pitiful sounds, kissing you hard while his other hand slipped under your dress to possessively get a handful of your soaked pussy. Damn it! Instead of being scared, you were so fucking aroused and that only made the whole situation worse, because after Patrick let go of you, he sneered in the most arrogant way and brought his long fingers, coated in your flavor, to his lips to taste it.

"Don't ever compare yourself to those bitches," he reminded you, fixing the hem of your dress and gently stroking your leg; his face softened as he let out a disappointed sigh. "After all, I missed you so much, (y/n). And I thought you missed me, too."

"I missed you, I really did!" You panicked a little. Patrick was such a master of manipulation, a few moments ago you had accused him and his friends of having bad manners, and now you felt guilty about making that scene.

"So why did we have this shitty conversation about my colleagues and their whores instead of talking about us?" Patrick replied in a challenging tone, his big palm was still on your knee, but this time you didn't dare to brush it away.

"Because it makes me sad!" You blurted out and looked at him, now staring at the scenery through the taxi window.

"Fine, I won't take you to dinners like these anymore." His annoyed voice echoed in your ears, and you couldn't help but feel your heart breaking at his comment. You lowered your head down and cried, barely audible, but somehow Bateman immediately noticed.

"Are you crying, (y/n)? Seriously?" 

"Patrick, maybe I should go home? I don't feel well and I don't want to disappoint you with—"

"Enough of this bullshit, okay?" He suddenly pressed you against his chest, letting you hug him around his waist. "I'm not letting you go, not now, not ever."

Where was your good mood and that sparkle that set your body on fire when you were in the restaurant? God, you hated yourself for acting like that, but his friends — those stupid yuppies — always made you sick to the stomach, but this time you really had lost your patience. And even though you calmed down now and hid your face in the crook of Patrick's neck, the tension between the two of you was still in the air, and you didn't really know what to expect when you arrived at his place.

After almost an hour, you were sitting on his big bed, completely naked and still shivering — you could still feel his touch on your most sensitive spots as Bateman had just washed you in the bathtub, rubbing and massaging you everywhere.

When you heard a soft click of the bedroom door, you raised your eyes to see him coming in, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, his red tie loosened and some of the top buttons undone.

"How do you feel, babydoll?" Patrick asked you teasingly, shaking the glass in his hand and leaning against the door.

You swallowed hard when his super dark eyes glided over your exposed curves, and you had to hold back your rapid breathing, because you were so damn excited. " Much better, thank you."

Bateman let out a low chuckle before placing his drink on the shelf and coming a little closer to you, puffing on his cigar.

"Good," he smiled and blew a few rings of smoke. "Now show Daddy how you learned to use my gift."

His words forced the blood in your veins to curse faster, making your skin burn from the inside out. With a loud gasp, you lay on the bed, leaning on your elbows and spreading your legs wide, so he could see your succulent pussy.

As soon as you did so, Bateman clenched his chiseled jaw and almost bit down on the cigar, but he kept watching your little hand slide between your thighs, and when it reached your soaped slit, he couldn't help but growl — he'd been rock hard all this time, but now it was getting really painful.

"P-Patrick, I'm scared..." you whimpered abruptly, taking the pink silicone dildo — the one that has been laying beside you on the bed — and rubbing it along your taut lower lips to lubricate it. "It's so embarrassing."

"Oh, I know, honey. I know," he purred in his usual seductive voice, and unbuttoned his blue shirt. "But you don't have to be embarrassed. Trust me, baby, Daddy knows what's best for you."

Damn, that was too much.

Gulping and closing your eyes, you threw your head back and tried to let it go, placing the dildo at your dripping entrance, and the next second you cried out from the feeling of fullness as you pushed it deep into your womb.

"Such a good girl."

"D-Daddy!" You let out a high-pitched wail, focusing on his raspy voice as you were too embarrassed to open your eyes.

"Go on," Bateman exhaled sharply, putting the cigar in the ashtray, and then he unzipped his pants, his hot flesh literally pulsating. "You make Daddy so proud."

"Mhhm," his words made you arch your back, and you began to pump yourself with the sex toy, sensing a tight knot forming in your lower abdomen. "Pat-Patrick, please… talk to me!"

He didn't answer at first as he continued to undress, slowly stroking his engorged cock. "Ahhh, this is so fucking sweet," Patrick grunted, smearing his pre-cum around his swollen tip. "Can't do anything without my guidance, am I right, my babydoll?"

"Awww—yes," you gasped, your legs already shaking. "N-need you, Daddy! Need you so much…!"

At that moment, you didn't care about anything in the world, just the buzzing feeling in your core. There was only one person who could give you that vital release you needed so desperately, and you were more than ready to beg him if he asked you to.

"You know what," Bateman murmured as he finally undressed and joined you on the bed, and when you felt his big palm on your hip, you thought you were going to combust, but he gently stroked your cheek, soothing you a little, whispering: "Shh, my little one. Not yet."

You literally writhed on the sheets like a trapped kitten, afraid to breathe, afraid to say anything that would ruin this moment. 

"Patrick..."

"Yes, dear... I'm here," he covered your hand with his bigger one, pushing the dildo even deeper, making you scream. "That's it, that's how you do it!"

"Awww, oh my GOD!" you tried to close your legs as the friction became too intense and Bateman just snickered at your pathetic attempt to stop him, so he just grabbed your throat and yanked it a little against the bed. "D-Daddy, it hurts!"

"Oh yeah?" Patrick couldn't hide his excitement when he saw your eyes watering, but his inner beast craved more. "I really wanted to be nice to you today, but you made me change my mind."

"Ahhh!" You clawed at his hand, which was choking you hard, but this man was too strong. "I'm... I'm s-sorry! I'M SO SORRY!"

The way he shoved the dildo into your bruised cunt was so fucking brutal that for one second you blacked out as the apex of it hit your cervix pretty brutally.

When you opened your eyes and yours met his, all you could see was lust mixed with rage. Huffing, Bateman suddenly moved down to your face to nip at your lips, then suck them and lick your cheekbone as he relished having such control over you. With a devilish grin, he continued to squeeze your neck, forcing you to fuck yourself with the dildo that was now completely covered in your juices.

"Do you hear that sound?" He taunted you, hovering over you and pressing you down with his massive muscles. "You're dripping like a fucking waterfall! So don't try to pretend you're not enjoying it, slut!" 

"I'm going to explode!" Was all you could manage to scream as your whole body tensed like a spring.

"Awww, you're going to cum from fucking yourself with a cheesy sex toy, what a pathetic little whore!" Patrick almost barked these words in your face, but then he suddenly released your neck and went down to your collarbone, leaving wet, red marks here and there. "Keep going and don't you dare stop!"

Your eyes rolled back in your head when his wet tongue began to play with your swollen nipples, not to mention when he took one of them into his mouth and sucked it so eagerly that you cried out in pain. Trembling, you let him use your hand to set the pace, your inner walls aching every time the dildo brushed hard against them. 

When Bateman noticed that your little frame was quivering too much, he quickly slipped down between your legs to suck on your clit and holy shit, he was so good at it, he definitely knew what he was doing.

"I—mhm, I'm gonna cum… Daddy, p-pleaseeee!" You were no longer moaning — at this point you were literally screaming, and your throat was burning, but that only spurred him on to eat you more fiercely.

"Mmmm, I've been thinking about tasting this pussy," he tugged on your sensitive bud before swirling his tongue around it. "For so fucking long."

Another deep thrust, followed by his merciless lapping at your oversensitive cunt, made your orgasm wash over you like a huge ocean wave. Shaking, your half-opened mouth froze in a silent cry as all your insides spasmed too intensely, and this sensation lasted so long that you almost fainted.

"Jesus, what a dirty girl you are," Patrick chuckled after he pulled away from your pussy and removed the dildo, his face covered in your wetness, it was literally running down his chin. "Look at that, you fucking cummed all over my face!" He forced you to look at him, and your dazed glance coaxed a loud chuckle from him. "You think I'm done with you?" 

"I..." You tried desperately to pull yourself together, but the overstimulation hit you so hard that your brain refused to function at all.

"Yes, I'm talking to you!" 

"Aww, w-wait!" You wailed loudly as he grasped your head and forced you closer to the edge of the bed. "Daddy!"

"Don't you 'Daddy' me," his ominous intonation was kinda scary, but you had no choice but to submit. "Don't worry, honey... I'm just going to play with your mouth a little..."

With a quick thrust, he pushed himself into your mouth, since you didn't really have any power to protest. Although it would have been pointless to do it anyway. You expected him to face fuck you really hard, but instead Bateman gently took your chin for support as his hips began to move faster, petting your head each time his red, swollen tip hit your throat.

"Arghh, your mouth feels so good, I missed that."

Patrick stroked your cheek almost lovingly, ignoring the way that you were almost gagging on his thick cock, savoring his cum and keeping eye contact with him. Grunting, he didn't last long as he collapsed into your mouth, rolling his hips and spilling his sticky liquid deep down your throat, and you didn't make any pathetic sounds, no whimpering or sobbing — you just took what he gave you. With your eyes closed, you drank him dry and heard him murmur:

"For now, I forgive you."

Slowly, Bateman pulled out from your abused mouth, leaving a trail of his cum and letting a few drops fall on your breasts.

"Clean them," he pointed at your tits, pumping his still hard cock and watching you catch the drops of his cum with your fingers. "Now get on your knees and spread your legs wide."

Whimpering, you obeyed and Patrick didn't waste any time, positioning himself behind you and wrapping his strong hands around your waist. 

"Ahhh, Patrick..."

"Shush," he cut you off, rubbing his creamy cock between your ass cheeks. "I'm not going to fuck you in the ass, even though you really deserve it."

He rammed into your aching pussy without any mercy, stretching you even more from the inside and making you cry, your hands helplessly creasing the sheets beneath you.

"IT HURTS! AW!" You squealed as he pinned you down, forcing you to lie on your stomach as he trapped you under his massive body, relentlessly drilling your little hole.

"What? My dick is way bigger than that dildo, huh?" Bateman mocked you shamelessly, the slapping sound your bodies made was like music to his ears. "Ohh, what a poor little girl… mmhhm… I promise you… by the end of this night you will be so fucking full of my cum — that it will pour out, but I won’t stop… even if you beg me to!"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[slut4evanpeters]

WitchBitch

james patrick march x fem!witch!reader

song i recommend listening to: spellbound by siouxise and the banshees

warnings: slow burn smut, master kink, overstimulation, fingering, obsession, mind tricks, smut at the very end and im sorry it ends abruptly🙁

summary: you are a rival witch of cordelia and her coven. To play mind games with her, you deicide to hold queenie in the hotel under a spell.

word count: 7.2k

notes: i came up with this in the shower.... i kind of rushed the smut im so bad at writing smut im sorry guys.. AND im so sorry for all the build up💀 when i write i cannot stop.

MDNI 18+

At the center of this forgotten palace of despair stood James Patrick March, poised in his fine three-piece suit. His sharp jawline and slicked-back hair framed a face that had not known the passage of time in decades. His dark eyes flickered with excitement, a glint of amusement dancing within them as he surveyed his kingdom. He leaned against the desk stood in the lobby, inspecting the tarnished silver of his pocket watch. Time, after all, had little meaning here, and yet, for James, the ticking of the clock always held a promise of something. Usually chaos.

“Darling,” came a voice from the grand staircase behind him, silky and soft, yet edged with a power that made the air hum.

He turned, a wide grin spreading across his face as he beheld his wife descending the staircase with all the grace and presence of a queen. You moved with an ethereal elegance, your long black dress trailing behind you like a shadow. Lock of hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a face that was both beautiful and formidable, eyes like obsidian and sharp as a blade. You were every bit the rival to the Supreme of the coven that now sought you out, yet you moved as though nothing and no one could ever challenge your dominance.

“My love,” James purred, straightening from the desk and walking toward you with a swagger that was both dangerous and playful. He reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it reverently. His eyes never left yours, and the fire that burned in their depths was matched only by the one that coursed through your veins. “You grow more enchanting with each passing moment.”

You smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of your lips that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. “And you, my dearest James, ever the flatterer. But we both know you’re simply excited for the evening’s new guests.”

“Ah, yes,” James sighed dramatically, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “The witches. It’s been far too long since we’ve had such promising prey wander through our doors.” His eyes gleamed, and you could practically hear the wheels of his mind turning, already plotting the wicked games he would play with them.

You glanced toward the large, iron-bound doors of the hotel, sensing the approach of powerful magic. The coven was close now. Their magic thrummed in the air, sharp and clean, an affront to the ancient, dark energy that permeated the Cortez. They were intruding, bringing their light into a place where it had no business being.

“You do realize, my darling, that these witches are not mere mortals,” you said, your voice low and sultry, a warning laced within. “They’re Cordelia’s, and she is not one to be trifled with.”

James’s smile widened. “Oh, I do hope so.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his eagerness. Despite his boundless enthusiasm for torment and chaos, you found his charm irresistible. It was that very dark charisma that had drawn you to him so many years ago, when your paths had first crossed in the shadows of death and magic. While most saw him as a madman, a murderer, you saw the brilliance in his madness, the artistry in his destruction. He was your perfect match, and together, you had created a life within the Cortez. An empire of secrets, blood, and eternal devotion.

“Don’t let your games get out of hand,” you murmured, resting your hand lightly on his chest. “Not yet, at least. There’s much to be gained from this encounter, and I’d rather not have it end too quickly.”

His expression softened, his hand coming up to gently cup your face. “Of course, my love. For you, I shall practice…restraint.”

You arched a brow, knowing full well how long such promises lasted with him, but you trusted that his loyalty to you would hold. It always had. His devotion to you was absolute, just as yours was to him.

“I’ll handle Cordelia,” you continued. “She knows I’m here, she’ll come for me first. The others are less important. Let them wander, let them think they have the upper hand.”

James’s grin turned predatory. “And then, we shall give them a proper welcome.”

The two of you stood in the dim light of the lobby, a portrait of dark elegance and dangerous power, ready to face whatever came next. Together, you were unstoppable.

Cordelia Goode had always been cautious, but there was a grim determination in her eyes as she stood outside the Hotel Cortez, flanked by several members of her coven. The hotel loomed before them, an imposing structure of iron and stone, its windows like hollow eyes staring back at them. The air around the hotel felt wrong, thick with malevolent energy.

“I can feel Queenie,” Cordelia said, her voice quiet but resolute. “She’s trapped in there. But there’s something else. Something darker.”

“Is it her?” asked Zoe, glancing nervously at the building. The younger witch had heard the stories about the infamous rival of their coven, the witch who had once stood toe to toe with the previous Supreme, Fiona Goode, and lived to tell the tale. A witch whose power was said to rival even Cordelia’s.

“Yes,” Cordelia confirmed, her lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s here. And she’s the one who holds Queenie’s soul.”

The coven exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what this meant. This wasn’t just a rescue mission, this was a confrontation with a force as old and powerful as any they had faced.

“We go in together,” Cordelia said firmly, “and we do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Our goal is to find Queenie and get out. Understood?”

The witches nodded in agreement, though there was an undercurrent of fear beneath their bravado. None of them knew exactly what they would face inside the Cortez, but they trusted in their Supreme’s leadership.

As they pushed open the heavy doors of the hotel, they were immediately engulfed by its oppressive atmosphere. The air inside was thick, suffocating, and the very walls seemed to pulse with a dark energy. The witches instinctively huddled closer together, their magical senses heightened, every nerve on edge.

“Stay close,” Cordelia whispered, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of life or death.

They moved cautiously through the lobby, their footsteps echoing in the silence. There was no sign of anyone, no indication of the horrors that lurked within. Yet the magic here was unmistakable, a heavy blanket of darkness that threatened to smother them with every step.

And then, a voice rang out, smooth and elegant, laced with a dark amusement.

“Cordelia Goode, the Supreme herself. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

You stepped out from the shadows, your presence commanding the room in an instant. The witches stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of you dressed in black, your eyes glittering with power and amusement.

Cordelia’s expression hardened. “You know why we’re here.”

You smiled, a slow, predatory smile. “Yes, of course. The poor little witch, trapped in my hotel. You’ve come to retrieve her.”

Cordelia stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “Let Queenie go.”

You tilted your head slightly, considering her. “And why would I do that? She came here of her own accord, after all. It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle the…atmosphere.”

Behind you, James appeared, his expression one of gleeful anticipation. He was clearly enjoying the tension in the room, his eyes flitting between you and the witches like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Now, now, my love,” he said, his voice a dark purr. “Let’s not be too hasty. I think our guests have only just arrived.”

You remained still, your gaze never leaving Cordelia’s. The Supreme witch’s determination was palpable, but so was the unease rippling through her coven. You could feel the raw tension in the room, the fear of the unknown, of a place that fed on souls.

James stepped forward, his stride confident and languid, almost like a panther stalking its prey. He cast an amused glance toward the witches, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were about to address guests at a grand party.

“My dear ladies,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet, “you’ve wandered into my humble abode, and yet, you haven’t even introduced yourselves. Quite rude, wouldn’t you agree?”

You raised an eyebrow at Cordelia, your amusement matching James’s. “James does so love proper introductions.”

Cordelia’s lips pressed into a thin line, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough games,” she snapped. “We’re here for Queenie. We’re not leaving without her.”

“Ah, yes,” James said, his smile widening as he looked up toward the ceiling, as if recalling a fond memory. “The one who thought she could wield power here. A futile endeavor, really.”

“She belongs to my coven,” Cordelia said, her voice steady, though you could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes. “And I will not leave her here to suffer in this wretched place.”

James tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Suffer? I don’t know if she’s suffering, dear, but she certainly isn’t going anywhere.”

You watched Cordelia closely. You could feel her power, her strength radiating from her in controlled waves. She was no fool. She knew what she was up against, and yet she had come. That kind of courage, or perhaps it was desperation, made her dangerous. But you had been waiting for this confrontation, this inevitable meeting between you and Cordelia, two witches on opposite sides of magic, each vying for control in their own way.

“You’re a fool if you think you can walk in here and demand anything,” you said, your voice calm but lethal. “This hotel is not a place for your kind. Magic here is twisted, corrupted. Your light will do nothing but feed the shadows.”

“I’m well aware of the darkness that lurks here,” Cordelia said, her eyes flicking from you to James, and then back to you. “But I won’t leave without her.”

A tense silence followed her words, and you felt the coven shift behind her, preparing themselves for whatever might come next. James’s smile was almost gleeful now, his eyes lighting up with the promise of chaos. He took a step closer to Cordelia, but before he could speak, you laid a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Patience, my love,” you said softly, though your voice carried a warning. “There’s no need to rush.”

He looked down at you, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something only you ever saw. Devotion. In all his madness, his bloodlust, there was one constant: you. He would burn the world for you, but he would also restrain his hand at your command.

He nodded slightly, and you turned back to Cordelia. “I’ll make you a deal, Supreme.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”

“Find Queenie, if you can,” you said, your voice smooth as silk. “If she truly wants to leave, I’ll allow it. But if she’s chosen to remain…well, that’s another matter entirely.”

Cordelia’s jaw clenched, but she nodded. “Agreed.”

You smiled faintly, knowing that she had no idea what she was truly agreeing to. “Good. I’ll even give you a head start. This hotel has many secrets, after all. You may find that time slips away from you faster than you realize.”

With a wave of your hand, the air in the lobby shifted, the dark energy of the hotel pulsing with newfound intensity. The witches tensed as the walls around them seemed to ripple, and the very atmosphere became heavier, more oppressive.

“Good luck,” you said, your voice low and laced with amusement. “You’ll need it.”

Cordelia gave you one last hard look before turning to her coven. “Stay together,” she ordered, her voice firm. “And don’t trust anything you see.”

The witches moved cautiously, their eyes darting around the room as they made their way deeper into the hotel. You watched them go, feeling the pulse of the hotel’s malevolent energy feeding off their fear, twisting the corridors ahead of them into a labyrinth of confusion and dread.

As the last witch disappeared from sight, James let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, they have no idea, do they?”

You turned to him, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Not in the slightest.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Shall we watch them squirm, darling?”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with dark delight. “Oh, yes. You know me so well.”

Cordelia led her coven through the dimly lit hallways of the Cortez, her senses on high alert. The walls seemed to close in around them, shifting and warping as they moved, but she kept her focus on the faint magical trace that lingered in the air. She could still feel Queenie’s presence, but it was faint, as though something—or someone—was deliberately obscuring her.

“This place is a nightmare,” Zoe muttered, glancing nervously at the flickering lights overhead.

“Stay close,” Cordelia said again, her voice steady. “This hotel plays tricks. It’s feeding off the darkness within it.”

“Do you really think she’ll let Queenie go?” Madison asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “She didn’t exactly seem eager to bargain.”

Cordelia didn’t respond immediately. She knew the witch who ruled this hotel—knew her power, her cunning. The woman was dangerous, and whatever hold she had over the hotel made her nearly invincible here. But Cordelia couldn’t afford to show doubt. She had to believe that she could bring Queenie back, no matter the cost.

“She’s stalling,” Cordelia said finally. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t find her.”

The witches moved in silence for a while, the oppressive air of the hotel making it hard to think clearly. The corridors stretched endlessly before them, each one seeming to lead deeper into the maze-like structure. Cordelia could feel the hotel’s magic pushing against her, trying to disorient her, but she held firm. She had to.

After what felt like hours, they turned a corner and came face to face with a tall, dark door at the end of the hall. Cordelia felt the pull of magic behind it—strong, twisted magic that made her stomach turn.

“She’s in there,” Cordelia said, her heart pounding.

The witches exchanged uneasy glances, but they followed Cordelia as she approached the door. With a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Inside, the room was vast and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and decay. And there, in the center of the room, sat Queenie.

She looked different, her eyes hollow, her skin clammy. She stared straight ahead, unmoving, as though she hadn’t noticed them enter.

“Queenie,” Cordelia whispered, stepping forward.

But as she approached, she felt the familiar pull of magic around her, a trap.

The door slammed shut behind them, and the lights flickered out.

In the darkness, you and James watched from the shadows, your smiles hidden but unmistakable.

Let the game begin.

The room plunged into darkness, and the oppressive weight of magic bore down on Cordelia and her coven. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls of the Hotel Cortez were alive, breathing and shifting around them. Cordelia’s heart pounded in her chest, but her voice remained steady.

“Stay calm,” she commanded, though she could sense the rising panic in the witches behind her.

“Queenie,” Cordelia called again, her voice carrying through the heavy shadows. She could still see Queenie, seated in the center of the room, her figure faintly illuminated by the dying embers of the flickering lights. Yet, the silence from her was unnerving—no movement, no response. Something was terribly wrong.

Madison, always quick to lash out when threatened, raised her hand, a burst of energy erupting from her fingertips to light up the space. The dim glow revealed the eerie stillness of the room, but as the energy crackled toward Queenie, it dissipated against an invisible barrier, fizzling out before it could even reach her.

“Damn it!” Madison hissed, frustration evident in her voice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s not her,” Zoe whispered, her voice shaking as her eyes darted around the room. “It’s a trap.”

Cordelia took a step closer, her hand outstretched toward Queenie. Her instincts screamed for her to pull back, but she had come too far to hesitate now. The closer she got, the more she could feel the distortion in the air, the unnatural magic wrapping around her friend. Something was holding Queenie in place, something ancient and powerful.

Just as her fingers brushed the edge of the barrier surrounding Queenie, the room shuddered violently. The lights flickered back to life, casting the room in a sickly, yellow glow. And then, with a low, menacing chuckle, the shadows shifted.

James Patrick March stepped out of the gloom, his eyes gleaming with predatory delight. He was the picture of calm elegance, his three-piece suit immaculate as always, but there was a madness in his grin that sent a shiver down Cordelia’s spine.

“My, my,” James said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’ve made it so far, Supreme. I must say, I’m impressed.”

Cordelia didn’t flinch. Her eyes remained locked on James, her expression hardening. “Where is she?”

James raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Who, darling? The witch trapped in her own mind? Or the one you call Queenie?”

“You know damn well what I mean,” Cordelia snapped. “Let her go.”

James’s smile widened, his gaze flicking between the witches. “But why would I do that? You see, Queenie has made herself quite…comfortable here. In fact, I daresay she rather enjoys her time in my humble hotel.”

From the shadows behind James, you emerged, your figure as graceful and commanding as ever. Dressed in your flowing black gown, you looked like a dark queen reigning over a twisted court. Your eyes glittered with dangerous amusement as you took your place beside your husband, your hand lightly resting on his arm.

“She’s ours now,” you said, your voice smooth as silk. “This hotel has a way of holding onto those who don’t belong. Your precious Queenie is no exception.”

Cordelia’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she held her ground, her gaze never leaving you. “Queenie doesn’t belong to anyone,” she said, her voice cold and firm. “I’ll bring her back, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

You smiled, a slow, knowing smile. “You still don’t understand, do you, Cordelia? This hotel… it has its own will. Once you step inside, it doesn’t matter how powerful you are. The Cortez decides who stays, and who leaves.”

“And Queenie,” James added, his eyes alight with dark pleasure, “has already made her choice.”

Cordelia took a step forward, her magic pulsing in the air around her. “You’re wrong. I can feel her. She’s trapped, but she’s fighting. I will free her.”

You and James exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between you. Then, with a slight nod from you, James stepped back, giving you the floor.

“Very well, Supreme,” you said, your tone mocking but laced with undeniable power. “If you believe you can free her, then try. But know this—once you start, there’s no turning back. The Cortez doesn’t like to be challenged, and neither do I.”

Cordelia squared her shoulders, her determination unwavering. She knew this was a battle not just against you and James, but against the very fabric of the hotel itself. But she wasn’t going to back down, not with Queenie’s life on the line.

She raised her hands, and a soft glow began to emanate from her fingertips. The air around her shimmered as she channeled her magic, directing it toward Queenie. The witches behind her tensed, readying themselves for whatever might come next.

But as soon as Cordelia’s magic made contact with the barrier surrounding Queenie, the room erupted into chaos.

The walls seemed to bend and twist, the floor beneath them rippling like water. The lights flickered violently, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to move on their own. And then, the laughter started—low, menacing, echoing from every corner of the room.

James’s laughter.

Cordelia’s magic surged against the barrier, but it held strong, feeding off the dark energy of the hotel. Queenie remained frozen, her eyes wide and glassy, as if trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

“You can’t win,” you said, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “This hotel is alive, and it’s hungry. It won’t let her go.”

Cordelia’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t stop. Her magic intensified, the glow around her hands brightening as she pushed harder against the barrier. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she refused to relent.

“Zoe, Madison,” Cordelia barked, her voice strained. “Help me!”

The two witches immediately stepped forward, joining their magic with Cordelia’s. The air crackled with energy as the combined power of the three witches surged toward Queenie, pushing against the dark barrier that held her captive.

But for every inch they gained, the hotel fought back, its malevolent energy twisting and warping around them. The shadows writhed, the walls groaned, and the very air seemed to close in, choking them.

James watched, his grin never faltering. “Oh, how delightful,” he mused. “Such

determination, such power. But it’s all for nothing.”

You stood by his side, your arms crossed, watching with cool detachment. Part of you admired Cordelia’s strength, her refusal to give up even in the face of overwhelming odds. But you knew how this would end. The Cortez had claimed Queenie, just as it had claimed so many others before her.

Still, there was something intriguing about watching Cordelia fight, watching her defy the will of the hotel and push herself beyond her limits. You wondered, briefly, if perhaps there was more to her than you had given her credit for.

And then, with a deafening crack, the barrier around Queenie shattered.

The room fell silent.

Queenie slumped forward, gasping for breath, her body shaking as the dark magic released its hold on her. Cordelia rushed forward, catching her before she could collapse to the floor.

“You’re okay,” Cordelia whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ve got you.”

For a moment, it seemed as though they had won.

But then, the floor beneath them began to tremble.

James’s laughter returned, louder, more manic than before. He clapped his hands together, delighted by the unfolding drama. “Oh, how marvelous! You broke the barrier! But I’m afraid it’s far from over.”

You stepped forward, your eyes locked on Cordelia. “You may have freed her from the trap,” you said, your voice soft but deadly, “but the Cortez is not so easily defied.”

The room around them began to warp once again, the walls bending and twisting as the hotel itself reacted to the break in its hold. The shadows grew darker, more oppressive, as the malevolent energy of the hotel surged to reclaim what it had lost.

“You’ve only made it angrier,” you continued, your gaze never leaving Cordelia’s. “And now, it will take everything from you.”

Cordelia’s heart raced, her grip on Queenie tightening as the room around them seemed to collapse in on itself. She had freed her friend, but at what cost?

The hotel was alive, and it was hungry.

And it wasn’t done with them yet.

The floor trembled violently beneath them, the Cortez reacting like a beast enraged. Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat as she held Queenie close, feeling the suffocating darkness around them. The hotel wasn’t merely a structure anymore—it was a force, something ancient, malevolent, and entirely beyond her control. It roared with fury as if the very act of defying its will had triggered a primal hunger that could not be quenched.

Queenie gasped for air, her eyes wide and terrified as she clung to Cordelia’s arm. “We… we have to get out of here,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from the ordeal.

Cordelia’s eyes darted around the room. The shadows were thickening, growing darker and denser, creeping along the walls like living tendrils. The witches could feel it too, the oppressive force pressing down on them, threatening to engulf them.

“We will,” Cordelia promised, though she wasn’t sure how. “Madison, Zoe, stay close.”

Madison’s usual bravado had vanished, her face pale as she looked at the twisting, warping shadows. “This place is alive,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “And it wants us dead.”

“Queenie’s free,” Zoe added, but her voice was shaky. “We did it. We can get out.”

“You think this is over?” you said softly, your voice cutting through the rising tension like a blade. There was an eerie calmness in your tone, but the power behind it was unmistakable. You took a few steps forward, the dark fabric of your gown trailing across the floor like a wave of shadows. “The Cortez doesn’t just let go, Cordelia. You should know that by now.”

Cordelia met your gaze, her determination still burning, but she knew you were right. She could feel it—the hotel wasn’t done with them. It wouldn’t stop until it had claimed something. The darkness was closing in fast, and even the combined magic of the coven felt like a flickering candle in a storm.

James stepped forward as well, his smile never faltering. He relished the chaos, the fear, and the power that swirled around him. “You’ve broken one little spell, Supreme,” he said, tilting his head. “But now, the hotel is awake. And it’s hungry. You’ve only made things… more interesting.”

His voice dripped with excitement, as if he couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. His dark eyes glittered with madness as he stepped closer to you, his arm casually slipping around your waist. There was something so grotesque yet elegant in the way he moved, like a spider closing in on a fly caught in its web.

You allowed him to pull you closer, your eyes still on Cordelia. “This hotel is more than just brick and mortar,” you continued, your voice low but commanding. “It’s a living entity, sustained by the souls it consumes. It’s bound to us now. James and I are its caretakers… and its rulers. You can’t fight that.”

Cordelia clenched her fists, her magic crackling in the air around her. “I’ll fight for her, for all of them,” she said, her voice unwavering despite the rising panic. “I’ve faced worse than you.”

But deep down, Cordelia knew you were right. The Cortez was a labyrinth, designed to disorient and ensnare those who wandered its halls. Every inch of it was saturated with dark magic, and even with all her power, she wasn’t sure if she could get them out. Not without losing someone.

“Zoe, Madison,” Cordelia said, her tone sharp, urgent. “We need to find a way out. Now.”

Madison glanced at the walls, which seemed to pulse and ripple like the surface of a black sea. “And how exactly do we do that?” she snapped, her usual snark barely concealing the fear in her voice. “The hotel’s turned into a nightmare.”

“It was always a nightmare,” you said, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

Zoe tried to focus, reaching out with her magic to feel for a way out, a path that wasn’t sealed off by the hotel’s will. But every hallway, every exit, felt wrong, twisted. The hotel’s presence was everywhere, smothering and relentless. It was like trying to navigate through quicksand.

Cordelia’s mind raced. There had to be a way. She wasn’t about to let this place trap them forever. She glanced toward the faint light at the far end of the room, where the corridor led deeper into the hotel. It was risky, but it was the only option she could see. They had to move, and fast.

“Follow me,” she ordered, pulling Queenie to her feet.

But before they could take a step, the ground beneath them shifted violently, sending cracks spider-webbing across the floor. The walls groaned as if the hotel itself was coming to life, ready to swallow them whole.

James clapped his hands together, laughing with wild abandon. “Ah, darling, it’s glorious! The Cortez is truly showing its teeth tonight.”

You watched with a detached sort of amusement, but beneath it, there was a deeper understanding. The hotel’s power had always been great, but this was different. Cordelia’s defiance had stirred something ancient within the walls, something that even you and James could not fully control.

“I’d move quickly if I were you,” you said, your voice calm but edged with danger. “The Cortez has no patience for witches who think they can bend it to their will.”

Cordelia didn’t need to be told twice. She darted toward the hallway, her coven right behind her. The hotel groaned and shifted around them, the walls elongating and warping, but Cordelia kept her focus ahead, refusing to let the disorienting magic of the place deter her.

You and James watched as they fled, knowing full well the Cortez would not let them escape so easily. The hotel had a way of twisting time and space, trapping its victims in an endless loop of horror and madness.

“Do you think they’ll make it out?” James asked, his tone light, as if discussing the outcome of a dinner party.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing as you watched the witches disappear down the corridor. “Perhaps. But even if they do… they won’t leave unscathed.”

James chuckled, pulling you closer as he gazed into your eyes with that adoring madness only he could embody. “I do love when you’re right, my darling.”

You smiled, the dark energy of the hotel swirling around you. “And if they manage to survive, well, they’ll know that the Cortez leaves its mark on everyone who dares to challenge it.”

Cordelia and her coven ran, the hallway stretching impossibly long before them. The hotel was fighting them, twisting reality to keep them trapped. Every door they passed seemed to lead to another version of the same corridor, looping endlessly.

“We’re running in circles!” Madison shouted, her frustration spilling over.

“Keep moving,” Cordelia commanded, though she could feel the walls closing in, the magic warping around them.

Queenie stumbled, still weak from the spell that had held her, but Zoe caught her before she could fall. “We’re not leaving without you,” Zoe said firmly.

Cordelia tried to focus, tried to find a break in the hotel’s magic, a weak point they could use to escape. But the energy of the Cortez was overwhelming, seeping into her bones, clouding her mind. It was as if the hotel itself was alive, hunting them, savoring their fear.

But then, just when all seemed lost, Cordelia felt it—a faint flicker of light, a thread of energy that didn’t belong to the hotel. It was a small opening, a chance.

“There!” she shouted, pointing ahead.

The witches rushed forward, following Cordelia as she led them toward the faint glimmer of hope. The hotel groaned around them, resisting, but Cordelia pushed through, her magic flaring as she reached for the thread of energy. With a final burst of power, she tore open a rift in the fabric of the hotel’s magic.

A door appeared before them, glowing faintly with the light of the outside world.

“Go!” Cordelia ordered.

The witches didn’t hesitate. One by one, they stumbled through the door, back into the cold night air beyond the hotel’s cursed walls.

Cordelia was the last to pass through, her heart pounding in her chest as she cast one final glance back at the Cortez. The darkness inside seemed to ripple, as if the hotel was watching her, waiting.

As the heavy door of the Cortez sealed shut behind the fleeing witches, the hotel's energy hummed with satisfaction, like a predator content after a brief but thrilling hunt. The dark magic of the place settled back into its familiar rhythm-watchful, patient, knowing that no one ever really left the Cortez. Its halls would call them back, just as it had done countless times before.

You stood beside James, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer.

The witches had escaped for now, but their connection to the hotel remained, and that was enough. The thrill of the chase had rekindled something in you-a reminder of the power and control you wielded in this place, alongside James. It was intoxicating.

James, ever observant, noticed the shift in your demeanor. He turned toward you, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and admiration. "Ah, my darling," he purred, stepping closer to you.

"You were magnificent, as always. Watching you wield the hotel's magic like that, there's nothing quite as exquisite."

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I could say the same for you, James. You do have a flair for theatrics." Your voice was laced with affection, though beneath it, there was something more, a simmering intensity that had been stirred by the night's events.

He chuckled softly, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you into his embrace. His touch was familiar yet electric, a spark that always seemed to ignite whenever the two of you were close.

The twisted elegance of his presence, the madness in his eyes—it matched the darkness within you, and together, you were an unstoppable force. A perfect pair.

James leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice low and velvety. "The way you command this hotel, the way you ensnare those who dare challenge us... it makes me fall in love with you all over again."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head slightly, allowing your lips to graze his neck. "Oh, James,' you whispered, your voice a soft purr. "You know as well as I do that this place, this power-it belongs to the both of us. We rule together, and thats what makes it so powerful. It belongs to both of us. We rule together, and that's what makes it so... intoxicating."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, intense, filled with the same hunger you felt coursing through you. "Indeed, my love. We are bound, not just by this hotel, but by something far deeper." His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheek as if memorizing every detail.

"You're mine, and I am yours. Forever."

There was something possessive, almost primal, in the way he said it-like a vow that transcended time and death. And in that moment, you felt the full weight of your bond, the dark and beautiful connection that tied you and James together in ways that few could understand. It was a love forged in blood, in madness, in power. It was both your strength and your obsession.

Your breath hitched as his words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could feel the pulse of the hotel around you, as if it, too, recognized the depth of what you shared. Slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was soft at first, but quickly deepened into something far more intense.

James responded eagerly, his hands tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips were fervent, his kiss filled with the passion and madness that always simmered just beneath his polished surface.

The world around you seemed to blur, the only reality that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hands roamed over your body with the same possessiveness that echoed in his words.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate. It was as though the two of you were trying to consume each other, to merge completely into one.

The intensity of your connection, your love, had always bordered on obsession, and tonight it felt even more heightened, charged by the dark energy of the hotel and the thrill of the night's events.

James broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your lips, his voice ragged with desire. "You drive me mad, my love.

Every time I look at you, every time I touch you... I burn for you."

You smiled against his mouth, your own desire mirroring his. "Then burn, James. Burn with me."

With a low growl of pleasure, he captured your lips again, the kiss deeper, more demanding. His hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting every nerve. You could feel the heat between you building, the air around you crackling with the raw intensity of your shared desire.

James lifted you effortlessly, and with a graceful spin, pressed you back against the nearest wall, his body pinning yours as he kissed you with a fervor that bordered on desperation. His lips left yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as

he whispered your name like a prayer.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on as your own need consumed you.

The world outside-the witches, the Cortez, everything-faded away, leaving only two of you, bound together in this intoxicating dance of passion and power.

James's mouth found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slow, deliberate, a contrast to the frenzied energy of moments before. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the dark love that had sustained you both for so long. The Cortez was your kingdom, but this. This was your sanctuary.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you were breathless, your bodies humming with the shared intensity of the moment. His hand gently cradled your face, his thumb brushing across your lips.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "For now, for always. You are my queen, my everything."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depths of his devotion, the madness and love that mirrored your own. "And I love you, James," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with the same intensity.

"We are eternal, you and I. Bound by blood, by power, by love. Forever."

His lips curved into that familiar, wicked smile, the one that always sent a thrill through you. "Forever, my love," he echoed, before capturing your lips once more in a kiss that sealed the vow between you-two souls bound together in darkness, for all eternity.

And as the Cortez hummed softly around you, it, too, seemed to recognize the power of the bond you shared. You and James were the heart of this place, the rulers of its twisted halls.

Later that night.

The sound of skin connecting with moans and loud huffs of breath is lost in the air, leaving nothing but the feeling of your pleasure in its absence as James fucks himself into your cunt.

Each time his cock pressed into you, slick dribbled out of your chubby cunt, staining the once clean sheets. He failed to put a towel under you like he usually does, too desperate to get inside you to care about something as silly as dirtied bed sheets.

Your legs were spread wide on the bed, each ankle hanging over the side of the bed. You rested your head on the pillow underneath you, arms resting under the cool side of the fabric.

He has no mercy, almost ruthless in the way he fucks you. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum at this point, and what’s funny is he hasn’t even came once, leaving you in a puddle of pleasure that seems to never end even when you start crying.

James's back was arched harshly downwards, legs over yours, keeping them flush to the bed. His hips started to move faster, the once quiet sounds becoming loud and sloppy. Heavy balls slapped into your folds, making you moan out in needy pleasure.

A soft hand went down to your cunt, thumbing your lips apart to rub at your throbbing clit. His forefinger moved in quick, small circles, pressing against it hard.

"Oh, darling, yeah, just like that, clench your pussy just like that, clench that little cunt nice and tight around your masters cock." James groaned in your ear darkly, sucking a deep purple hickey into your hairline. "Always so fucking good for your master hm? Just Ravishing, aren't you, Dear?"

Your hips bucked hard into his hand, making his cock slip further inside of your sloppy pussy. "James-Ma-Master! B-Big, s-s-so so big! Fuck, fuck, it's so good James please!" Your cunt throbbed around him like it had its own heartbeat, slick sliding down from your hole onto the exposed part of James's cock. "Need-Need you to fuck me-!" Your voice broke off into a high-pitched whine when James started thrusting again, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

James doesn't stop thrusting, even when you beg and moan to tell warn him that you're close. He wasn't going to stop until he had you shaking and crying out for mercy underneath him. His hands move from your shoulder blades to your waist, pulling them up to meet his hips. James started using you like a glorified fleshlight, hips meeting yours halfway every time he pushed back inside you harshly. Quiet grunts came from him, matching up with the slapping of his hips.

"Master, Master, Master, Master-! C-Can-Can't!"

"Aww, that's it, that's it, sweetheart. Cum all over your Master's cock. That's it, my good fucking girl." You clenched around him tightly, throbbing and pulsing as you gushed all over him. "That's it, there you go, cumming for your Master like a good little princess." James moaned in your ear, biting and tugging on it as you quivered. "What'ta slutty little girl, so needy for me."

The consistent clenching around his cock drove him to the edge, his face scrunching up when his orgasm finally hit him. Thick ropes of cum shot inside of you, forcing a sultry, drawn-out moan from your lips. He pushed his cock deep inside you, ensuring that all of his spunk stayed inside of you. "That's it, good girl, what'ta good girl. Keepin' all my cum nice'n warm for me." James pressed on your abdomen gently, smirking when a small amount of cum leaked out of your cunt.

"Aww, it's leaking out of you, Darling. Guess we're gonna have to go again to keep you filled."

[sabrinasopposite]

don’t you want me like i want you?

clark kent x guitarist!reader

don’t you want me

like i want you baby?

sleep tonight but tonights going crazy

meet me at the…. APT.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

For some, music is a companion—a loyal shadow that lingers, a daily necessity. But for others, it’s more. It’s everything. They don’t just hear it; they see it in the shifting hues of the sky, feel it in the vibration of the earth, live it in every heartbeat. For them, music isn’t a sound; it’s a language, a lifeline, a mirror.

For y/n, it was all of that and more. It was a sanctuary, the only way to release the emotions she couldn’t quite speak aloud. Music was her escape—a getaway car racing through uncharted roads. Plug in the headphones, press play, and suddenly, the world became a little softer, a little brighter. It was like being handed a map to a place only she understood.

But sometimes, the search for new music felt like a hunt—a quest for the perfect sound that could stir her soul, rekindle a spark, or provide the soundtrack for a moment she hadn’t yet lived. For y/n, this hunt was eternal, an ache as familiar as the chords of her favorite songs.

She had arrived in Smallville just weeks ago, a town so quiet it seemed like it could have been plucked from the second verse of a Radiohead track—melancholic yet oddly serene, with beauty tucked between its stillness. It was a far cry from the electric heartbeat of New York City, where she’d spent most of her life.

Smallville felt like a genre she’d never chosen—like a punk rocker trying to write country ballads. You either adapted and found the rhythm, or you didn’t. Y/n wasn’t sure yet which way it would go.

New York had been loud, chaotic, a symphony of endless possibility. Smallville was... still. Too still. But in that stillness, y/n found space to think—a fact that scared her more than she cared to admit. Change was like hearing a song for the first time: jarring, unfamiliar. But sometimes, if you gave it a chance, the melody could surprise you.

Her first days in Smallville were spent wandering its streets, letting herself get lost, hoping to stumble upon something—a spark, a rhythm, a new favorite lyric in this quiet album of a town. High school loomed on the horizon, another challenge she wasn’t ready to face. Her only solace was her family: her parents and her older brother, Theodore.

Theodore was her opposite in some ways but her twin in one crucial aspect—music. While she craved the melancholic poetry of The Smiths and the atmospheric pull of Fleetwood Mac, Theodore was all raw energy. His heroes were The Clash and the Sex Pistols, their messy rebellion plastered all over his bedroom walls.

Their playlists were mismatched, but their shared passion for sound connected them like two strings on the same guitar.

“You listen to sad music,” Theodore teased one night as she scribbled lyrics in her worn notebook.


“And you listen to angry music,” she shot back, smirking.


“Anger gets things done. What does sadness do?”
“It makes you feel,” she replied simply, her words trailing into the hum of a record spinning in the background.

It was during one of her aimless walks through Smallville that y/n saw it—a poster taped to a lamppost, its bold letters practically leaping off the page:

“LIVE MUSIC! TALON EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT!”

Her heart skipped, the words striking a chord in her chest. She’d passed the Talon a few times—a cozy coffee shop with an unassuming exterior—but now, it gleamed with possibility.

A smile crept across her face, bright and mischievous like the neon ink on the poster. Maybe this is it, she thought. A way to feel like herself again. To stop feeling like a background instrument in her own life.

She ran her fingers over the strap of her guitar case later that night, her mind racing. She hadn’t performed since New York—a string of open mics where she poured her heart out to strangers in dark rooms. But this felt different. This felt like the start of a new setlist.

Theodore didn’t take much convincing. Over dinner, she pitched the idea “Live music at this place called the Talon. Friday night. Let’s go.”


“You mean you should go,” he replied with a smirk. “With your brooding Smiths covers.”


“And you can bring your chaotic drum solos,” she countered, grinning. “Fine. But I get to pick one song,” theodore said, his grin mirroring hers.

🖤

As the days rolled by, the night of the Talon finally awrrived. y/n had been counting down to it, her excitement mingling with nervous energy.

The Talon wasn’t just any coffee shop—it was the place to be in Smallville. By day, it was a cozy corner where locals sipped lattes and caught up on homework. By night, it transformed into a buzzing hub for the town’s younger crowd, especially students from Smallville High.

Lana Lang, a fellow student, was the mastermind behind it all. Running the Talon was more than just a job for Lana—it was her dream, a vision she’d nurtured into reality. She’d given the shop a unique vibe, blending vintage cinema posters and retro lighting with warm, earthy tones that made it feel timeless. The Talon was Lana’s way of shaping the world around her, just like music shaped y/n’s.

For y/n, tonight was about sharing her heart through her guitar. But for Clark Kent, tonight was about surviving his friends’ enthusiasm.

Clark hadn’t planned on going. Events like this weren’t his thing—too loud, too crowded, and not exactly farm-boy friendly. But Chloe and Pete had been relentless.

“Come on, Clark!” Chloe said, practically dragging him along Main Street. “You can’t spend every Friday night doing farm stuff or staring at your ceiling. Live a little!” Yeah, man,” Pete added. “The Talon’s where it’s at. Music, coffee, and a crowd that’s actually, you know, alive. It’s way better than your barn.”

Clark sighed, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “I don’t even like these kinds of events. You guys know that.”

“That’s because you’ve never given them a chance,” Chloe said with a knowing smile. “And besides, Lana’s worked really hard to put this together. The least you can do is show up and support her.”

Clark glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “So this is about Lana.”

“No,” Chloe replied quickly—too quickly. “It’s about live music. Supporting local talent. Being a good friend. And, okay, maybe it wouldn’t kill you to, you know, talk to her while you’re there.”

Pete laughed. “Clark Kent, master of subtlety. I bet he stands in the corner all night, sipping coffee and avoiding eye contact.”

Clark shook his head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine. I’ll go. But only for a little while.” Chloe and Pete exchanged victorious looks as they stepped into the Talon.

The place was already packed, the buzz of conversation and laughter filling the air. Y/n and Theodore arrived early, her guitar slung over her shoulder and his drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket. Theodore had been grumbling about being dragged out of the house, but Y/n could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Clark, on the other hand, stuck close to Chloe and Pete, scanning the room. The warmth of the fairy lights and the smell of coffee filled the air, and despite himself, he felt a bit more at ease.

“See?” Chloe said, nudging him. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Clark shrugged but stayed quiet. His eyes wandered to the small stage at the far end of the shop, where musicians were setting up. He didn’t recognize anyone, but something about the electric energy in the air made him pause.

🖤

Meanwhile, Y/n was standing offstage, tuning her guitar and stealing glances at the growing crowd. Her nerves were starting to show, but Theodore gave her a reassuring nudge. “You’ve got this,” he said, tapping his drumsticks against his leg.

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to steady her breathing. This was it—the start of something new, in a place she was still trying to call home. And as the first chords echoed through the Talon, the crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to the stage.

y/n stood at the center of the small stage, her white guitar resting comfortably in her arms, as if it had always been there. Her outfit—a mix of rockstar glam and effortless charm—caught the light just enough to make her seem larger than life.

She looked like the kind of girl people might describe as a "rockstar’s girlfriend," but there was no mistaking her presence. She wasn’t anyone’s shadow; she was the main event. A free spirit with fire in her veins and a guitar that held all the words she couldn’t speak aloud.

Her style might have turned heads, but it was her eyes that truly shone under the purplish lights. They sparkled with the energy of someone who had something to say and wasn’t afraid to let the music do the talking.

The room buzzed softly with conversation as she stepped up to the mic. She leaned in, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hi, everyone,” she began, her voice warm but laced with the sharpness of her New Yorker accent. “Hope you guys are ready for something a little... rocky tonight.” She chuckled, the sound carrying through the room like the first strum of a chord.

y/n scanned the small crowd of the Talon, her heart pounding. The faces staring back weren’t familiar, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t performing for recognition. This was her way of speaking to the world, of sharing her stories—even if some of those stories were ones she’d only imagined.

Love, for instance. It wasn’t something she’d experienced firsthand, but it was a world she often visited in her mind. She’d written countless poems about it, pouring her thoughts into metaphors and melodies.

Tonight, she was ready to turn those words into something real, even if it was just for three minutes under the Talon’s lights. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Theodore. His drumsticks were poised in his hands, his posture relaxed but ready. She gave him a small nod, a signal to drop the bass and let the rhythm take over.

With that, Theodore struck the first note, a deep, vibrating pulse that seemed to ripple through the room. y/n felt the vibration in her chest, grounding her, reminding her why she loved this. The noise of the crowd softened as the music began to build, pulling everyone’s attention toward the siblings on stage.

y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of the guitar in her hands. Then she opened them, her fingers finding the strings instinctively. The first chord rang out clear and strong, cutting through the hum of the room like a declaration.

The song they were playing was called APT, a fun, energetic piece she had written inspired by a drinking game her friend from downtown, NYC had introduced her to.

It was a game called Apteu, and although it was just a silly tradition, it had given y/n the perfect material for a lighthearted, upbeat song. The track was full of energy and rhythm, designed to get people moving and feeling good—just the kind of vibe she wanted to set in this crowded room tonight.

She started to sing, her voice rising and falling with the melody, effortlessly weaving through the rhythm. Her eyes sparkled with passion, each word she sang carrying the weight of emotions she often kept hidden. When y/n sang, it was like she wasn’t just performing; she was living inside the song, letting every note and lyric become part of her. She embodied it, lost in the world of the music, letting it carry her to places she could only dream about.

Her voice was a perfect blend of sweetness and edge, like honey with a kick of spice.

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby?

Don’t you want me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. All you gotta do is just meet me at the…”

Her voice echoed through the Talon, drawing the crowd into her spell.

Clark, who had been standing in the back, arms folded and quietly observing, found himself completely captivated. His eyes followed y/n as she moved, completely lost in the song, and suddenly, he realized he was too. It wasn’t just the music—it was the way she poured herself into every note, the way she made it feel like her voice was something raw and real, like it had never been rehearsed, only lived.

His friends, Chloe and Pete, were watching him, but Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away. The entire room seemed to pulse with the beat, and y/n was at the center of it, effortlessly drawing everyone into her orbit. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the song felt so alive, or the way y/n seemed so in tune with every word she sang, but there was something about it—something about her—that hit him harder than he expected.

“She’s good,” Chloe whispered, nudging him. ,,Better than good, actually.”

Pete grinned. “I told you. This is way better than farm chores.”

Clark barely heard them. His focus was entirely on y/n, who was lost in the music. Her eyes glinted with emotion, her whole body swaying in time with the rhythm, and Clark felt that strange spark again, like the first crack of lightning on a stormy night. He was drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand, but the more she sang, the more he couldn’t look away.

y/n smiled briefly as she sang, her gaze briefly meeting Clark’s across the room. It was a fleeting moment, just long enough for him to feel something—a connection he couldn’t name, but he couldn’t ignore.

As she finished the song with a flourish, the crowd cheered, and y/n’s face lit up, glowing with the warmth of the applause. But for a brief second, Clark was still caught in the aftershocks of that look, a smile that was just for him—or at least, that’s how it felt.

The crowd cheered, some shouting their praise while others lingered at the edge of the stage, chatting and laughing. y/n was swarmed by a few people who complimented her performance, but she stayed humble, thanking them with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Theodore hung back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a quiet pride.

As the buzz of conversation filled the air, y/n and her brother moved off the stage, standing near the side of the room to catch their breath. Clark, still lost in the aftershock of her performance, was snapped back to reality when Chloe grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

“Come on, Clark, let’s go say hi! You can't just stand there looking like you’re stuck in a trance,” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Pete followed, still grinning. “Yeah, man. She’s great, huh? Let’s go talk to her.”

🖤

They walked toward the area where Y/N and Theodore stood, and for a moment, Clark hesitated. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was a little lost in the world he’d just experienced. It was just a song, just a girl—yet, something about the way she’d sung had gotten under his skin. But as they got closer, he found himself caught in the whirl of people milling around, all eager to meet the new musician, all laughing and talking.

“Hey, I just wanted to say you did an amazing job,” Chloe said, reaching Y/N and flashing her a wide smile.

Y/N returned her smile, her eyes still alight from the performance. “Thanks! Glad you liked it. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to play for people you’ve never met.”

“Well, you nailed it,” Pete chimed in. “You’ve got a real gift. And that song—APT—man, that was infectious. You had everyone in here dancing with you.”

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m just glad it got people vibing. It’s one of those silly songs, you know? You gotta embrace the fun in it.”

Theodore stood silently beside her, occasionally nodding when someone complimented his drumming, but for the most part, he seemed content to watch his sister shine in the spotlight.

Clark hung back, not sure if he should join the conversation. His mind was still racing with thoughts of Y/N, of how she seemed so at ease on stage, and how her smile had made him feel like they were the only two people in the room. But he didn’t speak up. Instead, he found himself standing just out of reach, watching quietly, unsure of what to say.

After a few moments, the conversation began to drift away from the music, and people started to break off into smaller groups, chatting about other things. Clark felt the opportunity slipping away.

“I guess we should get going,” Chloe said after a while, her tone casual, but there was a hint of something in her voice, like she could tell Clark was still lost in the night’s events. “It’s getting late, and we don’t want to leave our fearless leader to fend for himself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete agreed, giving Clark a playful nudge.

Y/N’s eyes caught Clark’s again as they turned to leave. Their gazes met, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world paused. But before Clark could say anything—before he could find the courage to step forward and introduce himself—she turned back to talk to someone else, lost in the group.

Clark hesitated, and the moment passed.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Pete said with a grin as they headed toward the door. “You seemed like you were a million miles away, man. You’re telling me you didn’t feel that? She’s something else, huh?”

Chloe gave him a teasing look. “Clark’s not the type to swoon over a girl in a coffee shop, Pete. Let him off the hook.”

Clark didn’t answer. His thoughts were elsewhere, stuck on the look they’d shared. He thought, maybe, there could have been something. But as they walked out of the Talon and into the cool night air, the excitement of the night began to fade, and he couldn’t help but think—he’d probably never see her again.

Y/N looked behind, her gaze following Clark as he walked out of the shop. Her eyes lingered on his tall figure and dark hair—he looked like a soft song, something out of Fleetwood Mac's Dreams or maybe Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels.

Her heart was pounding, maybe from the adrenaline still coursing through her after the performance. Or maybe it was the memory of those ocean-blue eyes.

🖤

The weekend passed, and Monday arrived all too quickly. For some students, it was just another Monday. Clark hadn’t expected to see Y/N again. Hell, he didn’t even know her name or who she was, but a part of him felt like he’d known her forever. Maybe it was the music that surrounded her—the way it made her seem like someone whose story everyone somehow already knew.

He’d thought about her all weekend.

Her song was stuck in his head, just like the memory of those purple lights that seemed to reflect her presence.

But another thought kept creeping in—he’d probably never see her again. She sounded like she came from New York; maybe it had been just a visit. What kind of girl like that would live in Smallville? She seemed like she belonged in a vinyl shop, or in some city where she was constantly surrounded by music.

Yet, as he walked down the hallway of Smallville High, he saw her.

Y/N was leaning against a locker, laughing and talking with Theodore. Her bright smile seemed to light up the entire hallway, and for a moment, Clark felt the world slow down.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. Sure, he’d been shy around Lana earlier that school year, but this was different. He didn’t even know Y/N—he’d only met her eyes across a crowded room. And yet, here he was, feeling… weird.

When their eyes met again, Y/N smiled, a mix of recognition and curiosity. She nudged Theodore and pointed in Clark’s direction.

“That’s the guy from the other two people who congratulated us—Friday night!” she said.

Theodore glanced over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sis, a lot of people talked to us that night. I barely even remember the girl who gave me her number.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from her brother, heading straight toward Clark. His steps slowed, but his heart raced faster with every second.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the Talon—Friday night?” she asked with a warm smile as she approached him.

Clark blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident. “So, do you go to every show, or was Friday just a lucky coincidence?”

“I don’t usually go to shows,” he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But maybe… I’ll consider going to more.”

Y/N grinned, her expression easy and relaxed. Something about her grounded him, helping him find his footing. She was tilting her head slightly as if studying him. “You don’t seem like the ‘crowded coffee shop’ type. What pulled you in? Was it the music, or did someone drag you there?”

Clark chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Chloe and Pete—they kind of insisted. Said I needed to ‘get out more.’”

“Sounds like good friends,” she said with a laugh. “It were the two that I talked to— right?”

“Yeah—- they loved it seriously,” Clark admitted. “And I… well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His words came out more honest than he’d intended, and he quickly added, “The music, I mean. You were amazing up there.”

Her expression softened, a touch of surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She paused, glancing at him curiously. “So, what do you do? Besides getting dragged to coffee shops by your friends, I mean.”

“Mostly farm stuff,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “My family has a farm just outside of town.”

“That explains the whole ‘rugged, mysterious’ thing you’ve got going on,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby locker.

Clark laughed, a little flustered. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me mysterious before.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” she said with a playful shrug. Then her tone shifted, becoming more sincere.

Clark smiled and looks at her. ,,And— the guy with the drums was your boyfriend or..?” he said curiously— of course he didn’t want to build up some hopes but, why not asking right?

Her smile widened, and she glanced back toward Theodore, who was still leaning against the lockers, pretending not to listen.

“Well— definitely not. His name is Theodore and he is my older brother. He shares the same passion like me— he is more into sex pistols and I am more into the smiths. But music’s always been my thing. It’s… kind of like home, no matter where I am.” she started to ramble— she was quite a talker.

Clark nodded and found that adorable of how she got into a conversation flow. “That makes sense. You looked like you belonged up there.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening. “Thanks, Clark. Really.” Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “So, are you going to stick with the ‘guy who never goes to shows’ routine, or are you thinking about breaking that streak?”

He smiled, shifting his weight slightly. “I guess that depends. Are you playing again soon?”

“Maybe,” she said, clearly enjoying the game. “Guess you’ll have to keep an eye out.”

Clark nodded, his shyness melting away as her energy pulled him in. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” she said with a soft smile. “See you around, Clark Kent.”

And with that, she turned back to Theodore, leaving Clark standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling like the world had shifted just slightly under his feet.

As he watched her walk away, Pete and Chloe appeared at his side, both smirking.

“Smooth, Clark,” Pete teased. “Real smooth.”

Chloe grinned. “So, is this where we start dragging you to more coffee shop gigs?”

Clark didn’t answer. His gaze was still fixed on Y/N, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Maybe you should.”

🖤 i hope u guys enjoyed! and stream APT by my girl rosé

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VII

—forever winter

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and covid. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello again, here's the next part!! also here are a few songs i listened to while writing this one: salt in the wound - boygenius, flume - bon iver, the gold - phoebe bridgers, for emma - bon iver, forever winter - taylor swift and calgary - bon iver.

happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 19, 2020

Los Angeles, CA

There have always been two versions of you: the person you once were and the person the world has decided you are. The first is the one who existed long before the spotlight, the one with a bit of adolescent angst, dreams bigger than herself, and a heart still learning to shield itself.

This version was taught by her parents that she was special, but the world hadn’t yet caught on. She was the girl who felt small and out of place, who wrestled with who she was and where she belonged.

And then there’s the second version, the one who stands in the center of magazine covers, on the glossy side of fame. She is everything you once dreamed of becoming—and more. You’ve spent the last decade perfecting her image, carving her out of raw ambition and countless hours under the hot glare of cameras. Her Wikipedia page reads like an epic: awards, accolades, achievements—flawless. She’s a masterpiece.

This side of you is never tired. She never shows frustration. She knows how to angle her face when the camera flashes, to smile when the questions sting, and to cry beautifully when accepting awards. She can gracefully discuss the sexism she’s faced in the industry, yet she knows better than to name names or point fingers.

She always sticks to the narrative.

For the longest time, you hoped you wouldn’t need to split into two people. That the version of yourself from years ago would be good enough for the world. But the divide wasn’t gradual—it was sudden. It happened four years ago, the day your ex decided to make you the centerpiece of a bitter, ugly breakup that splashed across every tabloid in the country. Since then, you’ve been caught between these two identities, juggling the woman you once were with the image the world expects of you.

As you sit in the back seat of the car, your eyes linger on your reflection in the tinted window. Tonight is the SAG Awards, another high-profile event where your public persona will take the lead. You watch yourself in the mirror, a familiar stranger, and wonder: Does anyone truly know you? Do you even know yourself anymore?

“There's a line of press when you get out of the car,” Taylor, your manager, says without looking up from her phone. “You know, the usual stuff.”

“Got it.”

You nod, trying to focus on the task ahead, but your thoughts are far away. You look out the window, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. No matter how many of these events you attend, it never gets easier.

The car slows to a stop, the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder through the windows.

“Why isn’t Daniel here?” Taylor asks, breaking the silence.

“He had to fly back to Enstone,” you reply, a pang of disappointment in your chest. “The season starts soon. He’s prepping.”

Last year was a challenging one for Daniel—his racing season wasn’t what he hoped for, and he’s determined to make up for it this time around. His commitment to his craft mirrors yours in so many ways, but tonight, you wish he was here with you.

“Oh, that’s too bad, babe,” Taylor says, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of sympathy. “When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure; he didn't say,” you murmur. “Hopefully soon.”

The door opens, and the roar of the crowd hits you like a wave. Flashing cameras, the shouting of photographers, and the glittering red carpet stretch out before you. “Looks like we’re here,” Taylor says, stepping out and extending a hand to help you.

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. It’s always easier with someone by your side, but tonight you’ll have to do this alone. You follow Taylor’s lead, plastering a smile on your face as you step out into the chaos. The cameras flash, posing and waving, but inside, you feel detached—like you’re watching yourself from afar.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally make it inside the venue, your body relaxing slightly as the noise of the red carpet fades behind you. You’re greeted by familiar faces and smiles, but the exhaustion from keeping up appearances lingers.

“I thought I was going to be the coolest person here, but clearly, you've beat me to it.”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts, deep and teasing. You turn and find Pedro standing there, dressed in a sleek silver suit jacket with black pants, his expression warm and playful.

His presence doesn't faze you; you've been filming for the Mandalorian since November last year, seeing each other here and there, not really spending time together between takes, and not acknowledging what happened at the wedding. You didn't hear from him since production stopped mid-December, only to get back on set early January. Although with everything else he's doing, you barely see him there anyway.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes lingering on you.

You glance down at your outfit—a sharp, stylish suit you picked for the night. It fits perfectly, giving you an air of confidence even though, inside, you feel anything but. “Thanks,” you say. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Pascal.” You gesture to his getup, offering a kind smile.

Pedro smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I came over to congratulate you.”

"Yeah?"

“The Achievement Award. That's huge.”

You laugh softly, a little self-conscious. “That sounds like an overstatement for someone who’s only 28.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing. Pedro has always been able to see through you in ways that others can’t. You can hide from the world, but not from him.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, his voice firm.

“Do what?” you ask, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“Don’t invalidate your accomplishments. You deserve this.”

There’s something in the way he says it—a weight to his words that makes you pause. Part of you wants to argue, to downplay everything like you always do, but his sincerity stops you.

Instead, you nod, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Pedro,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

Does it?

He sees right through and holds out his arm, a silent invitation. “Wanna walk in with me?”

For a moment, you hesitate. There’s an unspoken tension between the two of you, a history that neither of you has fully acknowledged. But as your eyes meet, the air shifts. You loop your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as the two of you make your way into the theater together. A camera flash goes off, and you smile. But this time, with Pedro by your side, it feels a little less lonely.

•••

You were sitting at a table when a fellow actor and friend started talking about you on stage. It was surreal, like time had slowed down, and you found yourself lost in thought. You’d been to countless awards shows and accepted more than your share of accolades, but this one felt different. A recognition of not just a role or a single performance, but a lifetime of work—or at least, a decade of it. And you were still young. Too young, part of you thought, for this kind of tribute. Yet here you were, about to be honored in front of your peers, the people who had seen your highs and lows.

The screen flickered to life, and a montage of your work began to play. Scenes from movies that had shaped your career, close-ups of moments that had shaped you. A smile here, a tear there, moments of triumph and vulnerability.

It was oddly like watching your life flash before your eyes—a strange out-of-body experience, as if you were looking back at someone else's journey. The montage moved through the years, capturing not just the characters you played but the changes in you—subtle at first, then more pronounced. The younger you, still full of raw hope and untamed energy, compared to the more seasoned version, who had learned how to navigate the treacherous terrain of fame. It felt like a snapshot of your life in fast-forward, as if you were witnessing your own eulogy.

You breathed in deeply, trying to stay present. It wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself.

The applause was thunderous as the montage ended, and it wasn’t until your name was called that reality snapped back into focus.

You stepped out into the blinding lights, the weight of the moment settling in as you approached the podium. The sea of faces before you blurred slightly in the brightness, but you could make out familiar ones. Peers you respected, younger actors looking up at you with wide eyes, veterans who had paved the way before you. And somewhere out there, you knew Pedro was watching.

With trembling hands, you held the award, the metal cool against your palm. You took a breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“This is... overwhelming,” you began, chuckling, your voice breaking slightly from the emotion of it all. “I don’t even know where to start. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and to the people who supported me through the ups and downs. This means more than I can put into words.”

You paused, scanning the room, catching sight of Pedro for just a second, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that grounded you.

“When I started this journey, I was just a kid with big dreams and very little understanding of how hard this industry could be,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “But I learned early on that dreams don’t work unless you do. It’s not just about talent—it’s about determination, grit, and pushing through even when everything seems impossible.”

Your eyes drifted toward the younger faces in the audience. “To the younger actors out there, keep going. I know it can feel like the world is telling you no at every turn, like you’re not good enough or that you’ll never make it, but don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop working. This industry can be brutal, but it can also be beautiful. Find the beauty. Hold onto it. Work for it.”

A wave of applause broke out, but you weren’t finished yet. You felt a pull, a need to say more, something from the heart. Something real.

“And through all of it,” you said, your voice softer now, “keep the people who truly love you close. In this business, it’s easy to get lost in the noise, in the hundreds of things that try to tear you down or make you feel like you’re not enough. But the people who love you for who you are, not what you can give them, are the ones who will keep you grounded. I’ve met some of my forever people in this industry, and for that, I’m grateful. Despite all the bad and all the heartache that comes with this life, it’s those relationships that make it worthwhile.”

Your gaze wandered again, unconsciously searching the crowd for Pedro, and when your eyes met his, something inside you softened. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the weight of those words better than anyone.

“I’m grateful,” you continued, your voice a little more vulnerable now, “because I’ve been able to hold on to those people. Even when things get complicated even when it feels like the world is pushing us apart. You have to fight for those connections. They’re what make this crazy, beautiful life worth living.”

You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through it, finishing with, “So thank you. To the people in my life who have stuck with me through the good and the bad. This is as much yours as it is mine.”

March 5th, 2020

Calgary, Canada

Life after the awards ceremony didn’t feel much different than before. It was still the same relentless rhythm—work, events, travel, more work. The brief moments of peace in between became rare and fleeting, like whispers in the storm of your career. Daniel’s season was supposed to start soon, and though you’d seen him twice after he flew to France for preparations, something between you felt... off. His distance was palpable, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on it too much. It was easier to stay busy, keep moving, and brush it off as a phase. After all, the both of you were pulled in so many directions—when was the last time anything felt normal?

A quiet dinner in your NYC apartment, one of the few times Daniel managed to swing by in between training sessions. The table was set with takeout boxes instead of a home-cooked meal—neither of you had the energy for anything more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, watching him as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I miss this,” you added.

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel said, but the words were like dust on the air—insubstantial, weightless.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet," you trailed off, unsure of how to breach the distance you felt growing between you.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind with the season coming up. It’s…you know, a lot of pressure.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. “You’re going to be great. You always are.”

He gave you that familiar smile, but it still felt like something was slipping through your fingers.

•••

By March, you had flown to Calgary to shoot a horror-adjacent film. The setting—a desolate cabin in the snow, miles from anywhere—was perfect for the kind of chilling atmosphere the director was aiming for. You’d always loved working with indie directors; their stories had depth, innovation, and a sense of grounded reality that the big-budget productions sometimes lacked. It was a reminder of why you fell in love with acting in the first place.

On set, things moved fast. Between takes, you found a quiet corner of the cabin and pulled out your phone to FaceTime with Taylor. She was mid-ranting when she answered.

“There’s a potential shutdown happening, babe. Something about a virus…COVID, or whatever they’re calling it. Have you heard anything about it?”

You’d heard whispers from the crew, but nothing had been confirmed. “I’ve heard some talk around set, but no one knows what’s happening yet.”

“Well, I’m telling you now, it’s serious. This might be the last project you get to work on for a while. Everything else is likely to be delayed. Keep your eyes open.”

You sighed, looking around as the crew moved around with their usual buzz of energy.

“Guess I’ll enjoy this last bit of freedom while I can.”

Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, enjoy it while you’re in the middle of nowhere. Call me if you hear anything else.”

You ended the call and pocketed your phone, the unease settling into your chest. Everyone around the set seemed unfazed, but the air had undoubtedly changed.

By the final days of production, the world was different. Everyone wore face masks, and hand sanitizer became the reigning deity on set.

•••

Reality hit hard. Flights were cancelled. No one could leave. You were stuck in the cabin, snow piling up outside like a barricade against the world, while the virus barricaded you from returning home. You made a grocery run the minute things got a little hectic, filling the place with more supplies than you’d ever seen yourself buy—just in case. The panic in the air was contagious, and chaos reigned for those first two weeks.

You FaceTimed your mom as you unpacked. “I’m stuck in Canada,” you said, laughing softly despite the anxiety that gnawed at your insides.

“Are you serious?” her voice was a mix of worry and exasperation. “You should’ve been back by now. What about New York?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back. Airports are closed.”

She sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. “Just take care of yourself, honey, alright? Don’t be reckless. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine."

Her voice softened. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I promise.”

•••

It was a particularly dark, cold afternoon. The kind where the sky hung low with thick clouds and the cold crept in through the cracks of the cabin no matter how many layers you wore. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, the silence of isolation pressing down heavier than usual when your phone buzzed on the table.

Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, but you couldn’t ignore him. Not yet. So you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear, forcing a soft, casual, “Hey.”

His voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent to it—a kind of distance that had been growing for months. "Hey," he replied, his Aussie accent tinged with something heavy. "How’s it going over there?"

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “You know… same. Snowed in. A lot of waiting.” There was an awkward pause. You filled it with a half-hearted laugh. “How about you? Everything alright?”

He cleared his throat, and you could feel the shift before he even said it. “Actually… I don’t think we should keep this up.”

The words hit you like the cold outside, seeping into your bones, but not with shock—just a kind of muted inevitability. There it is, you thought, the final crack in what was already falling apart.

Your brain hummed with white noise after that. You don’t remember what you said in response, something vague like, “Yeah, I get it.” The words came out on autopilot, and you weren’t really listening anymore. It wasn’t traumatic; it wasn’t the kind of breakup that destroyed you. It was like slowly waking from a dream and realizing it had already ended before you even opened your eyes.

His voice was kind, soft—too soft. “You’re so great, you know that, right? This just… it wasn’t working anymore. For either of us.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. Your mind was elsewhere—on the conversations with Pedro, on the way your heart leaped when you heard his voice instead of Daniel’s. You had known, deep down, for a while now where your heart really was.

“I guess we knew this was coming,” you finally managed, voice steady, as if you were discussing something as simple as the weather.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But still… I didn’t want it to hurt.”

The niceties and the polite words that followed hurt more than any fight ever could have. It was the kindness of it that made it sting—the acknowledgment that neither of you had it in you to fight for something that had already drifted away. There was no anger, no raised voices, no accusations.

Just two people who had loved each other briefly, now saying goodbye like they were parting ways at an airport terminal.

“Well, take care of yourself, alright?” Daniel said softly.

“You too,” you whispered, already feeling the weight of finality.

And then it was over. The phone went silent in your hand, and you stared at the screen as if it could offer you some kind of closure that you weren’t sure you needed.

•••

The days began to bleed into one another. You were alone in that cabin—snowed in and quarantined from the world. The only connection you had was through your phone, through calls with Sarah and Oscar, who checked in on you daily.

Most days, you found ways to pass the time. You read, you cooked—burned some things, too—and found yourself sitting by the old piano that had come with the cabin. Your fingers brushed against the keys, unsure at first, after so much time spent focusing on acting. But the music came swiftly, like muscle memory. The songs poured out of you, stories in lyrical form, shaped by the silence and solitude around you.

But some nights, the quiet was too loud.

The breakup with Daniel lingered in the back of your mind like a dull ache. You had been okay with it for the most part; you knew it was coming, and neither of you were in it anymore. But there were nights, like tonight, when the weight of it crashed down and the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. You lay in bed, tears wetting the pillow, thinking about how everything had ended in polite goodbyes when maybe you needed the screaming.

•••

One day, in the middle of baking—flour dusting your hands and a bowl of half-mixed batter sitting on the counter—you received a text: “I hope you’re doing okay.”

You stared at it, your heart skipping a beat. You had thought about him every single day and wondered how he was coping and whether he was safe. Anytime Sarah called, you asked about him, telling yourself that it was enough to know from a distance. But now, with that simple text, you caved.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

His reply came almost immediately. “Not really. Mostly lonely.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how hard it was for him to be alone. He thrived off people, off energy. And now, the world had gone still.

“Wanna talk?” you typed, holding your breath.

“Would love to hear your voice,” came the reply.

So you called him, and the hours melted away as you both talked about everything—about the virus, about work, about how isolating it all was. He asked, finally, “How’s Daniel?”

You hesitated. “We’re no longer together. Haven’t been for a while.”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

You quickly changed the subject, but it lingered between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what that meant. After that, you spoke almost every day. The isolation became less suffocating, and with each call, you both felt a little less alone.

•••

On Pedro’s birthday, you baked a cupcake in his honor, lighting a single candle before FaceTiming him. When he picked up, he laughed, “You made me a cupcake?”

“Of course I did,” you said with a grin, holding up the tiny treat. “Now, pretend to blow out the candle.”

He played along, puffing his cheeks and making a ridiculous show of it. “Thank you for this. It’s not much of a birthday without people.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, singing an off-key version of Happy Birthday. His laughter filled the space between you.

Later that night, he posted a screenshot of your call on his Instagram story, and the internet lost its mind. Comments flooded in—"Omg, she baked him a cupcake!"—“My favorite best friends!”—and you laughed at the attention it brought.

•••

One evening, as you sat at the piano again, your phone propped up with Pedro on FaceTime, he listened quietly as you played a new melody. “I think the lyrics need work,” you said, biting your lip.

He smirked. “Let me hear them.”

You hummed the first few lines, fumbling over the phrasing. “See, it doesn’t quite flow.”

“Let’s try this,” Pedro suggested, offering a line.

By the end of the night, the song felt whole, and you felt lighter.

The days passed—isolated and cold—but your connection with Pedro was alive and warm again. And as the weeks stretched on, you couldn’t help but wonder: How long until you fucked this up again?

October 5, 2020

Budapest, Hungary

Pedro had always known loneliness. It was a quiet, persistent companion, but in Budapest, it had taken on a new form. The city was beautiful, its streets old and layered with history, but none of it could distract him from the hollow ache in his chest. The early mornings on set, the long hours of filming—the work was steady. But outside of that, the hours stretched endlessly.

He had been filming in Europe for months, and though he loved his job, the thrill of creating something special—the distance—both physical and emotional—was wearing him thin. He had been keeping in touch with you, his constant thread of connection. The texts, the occasional FaceTime calls, were easy and comforting. But he could never shake the weight of what he hadn’t told you. What you didn't allow him to say. It felt like a brick in his stomach.

You lived strangely in his head.

He still hadn’t found the courage to say the words. I love you. They haunted him—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Every time he thought he was ready, he backtracked, swallowing the confession whole. His cowardice infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been in love with you for years, the feelings growing stronger and deeper, but now… now you were thousands of miles away, and he was stuck in this self-made purgatory.

His thoughts often drifted to his mother lately. She had always known how to comfort him, her voice soothing, her advice simple but profound. What would she have said about you? About his inability to speak the truth? He could hear her in his head, telling him to stop being such a fool, to just go for it. But she wasn’t here anymore, and he felt lost without her, more than he ever let on.

The days on set were repetitive but engaging. The crew was tightknit, and the project was exciting. He threw himself into work, hoping it would distract him. He laughed with the cast, bantered with the director, but when the camera wasn’t rolling, his mind was elsewhere. It was with you.

•••

A few weeks later, after wrapping up in Budapest, he found himself in Switzerland alone again. He didn’t know why he’d come. The scenery was breathtaking, the mountains vast and quiet, but the isolation magnified the emptiness he felt. It was as if everything had come to a standstill.

The stillness weighed on him. The quiet, once a solace, now felt oppressive. He spent his days wandering the small towns, drinking coffee in hidden cafés, trying to convince himself that the solitude was a gift. But he felt shattered, more broken than before.

One night, the loneliness became too much, and he called you. Desperation tightened his throat as he waited for you to pick up, his mind screaming at him to just tell you. The phone rang, and when you answered, your voice was soft, familiar, and full of comfort.

"Pedro," you said, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

His breath caught, and the confession lodged itself in his throat again. He had been ready, so ready, but hearing you—he thought better of it. What could he say that wouldn’t ruin everything?

"Hey," he replied, his voice rougher than intended. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

You chuckled softly on the other end. "You good?"

"Yeah, I’m good," he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. "Just…miss talking to you, that’s all."

"I miss you too," you said, and it broke him a little more. The call went on, but he had already retreated into himself, too afraid to say what needed to be said. He listened to you talk about your day, your laugh filling the silence on his end, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing—failing himself, failing you.

•••

The next day, he went for a walk. The air was cold, biting, but it didn’t bother him. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the cobbled streets, past quaint houses with shuttered windows, and let the weight of his feelings wash over him. It was overwhelming. His history with you, all the unsaid things, all the moments when he should have acted and didn’t. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.

He found a bench and sat, his head in his hands. One day, he thought. One day, I’ll tell her.

December 31st, 2020

New York, NY 

The phone call from Oscar came two weeks before New Year's Eve. His voice was warm, as it always was, but there was an unmistakable edge of hope in it, the kind that crept in after months of isolation.

“It’s just something small,” he had said. You could hear his smile through the phone, that charming grin he always wore. “Not a lot of people, you know. Just family and close friends. After the last few months we've had… I think we need this.”

You hadn’t seen Oscar in person in what felt like forever, and the idea of being with people—Oscar’s people, your people—sounded like a balm to the soul. You agreed before he could finish the invitation, the excitement bubbling up despite the world still not feeling quite right.

You got tested later that week, making sure you were safe to attend the gathering.

When you arrived at Oscar’s apartment, the city had an eerie quiet to it. New York was never still, even during the pandemic, but tonight it felt subdued, like it was holding its breath for something more. You headed for the entrance, and the soft sound of music spilled out the moment the doors opened.

Oscar met you with his arms wide open, pulling you into a tight hug. “Look who finally made it,” he teased, his face lighting up in that familiar way. “You look good.”

“You too,” you said, stepping back and taking in the warmth of the room. It was intimate—just the right amount of people to make you feel at home, but not so many that it felt overwhelming.

Before you could take another step, Sarah swooped in, stealing you from Oscar’s embrace with an exaggerated squeal. She enveloped you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe.

“I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and the reunion felt like a weight lifting off your chest. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, your laughter blending in with the soft chatter around the room.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. He had arrived a little late, typical of him, but the sight of him sent your heart into a dizzying spin. It had been almost a year since you last saw each other in person.

He moved through the room, and when he finally made his way toward you, your breath hitched. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his toned chest. His hair was longer, fluffy from the months of lockdown, and his big brown eyes—usually so full of light —looked tired.

But when he saw you, the weariness seemed to lift for a moment.

He said your name softly, stepping close. His arms opened, and you fell into them without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him in a way that felt too familiar, too safe. He held you tight, his grip lingering longer than necessary, like he was afraid to let go.

“Hey,” you breathed against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—pleasant, familiar, grounding. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you. You pulled back slightly, looking into his face, wanting to say something—anything. You couldn’t live without thinking about him. He consumed your every thought, and somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with how you felt about him.

But the words stuck in your throat.

“At last, we see each other,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, his hand still on your back.

“At last,” you repeated, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You both opened your mouths to speak, then laughed in unison.

"You first," Pedro said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though there was something deeper there—something lingering just beneath the surface.

But before you could say anything more, Sarah reappeared, her arm hooking through yours as she dragged you away. “Sorry! I need to steal her for a sec,” she said with a laugh, oblivious to the quiet intensity of the moment she’d interrupted.

Pedro smiled at her, though his eyes flicked back to you. "What I wanted to say can wait," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise that sent a jolt through you.

You promised yourself you’d find him later.

•••

In the kitchen, you and Sarah were rummaging through cabinets for more drinks when you heard Oscar’s booming laugh. Turning, you spotted him and Pedro, who now had a ridiculous pointy birthday hat perched on his head. You burst into laughter at the sight, unable to resist.

“Cute hat,” you said, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “Let’s document this moment.”

He grinned, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and pulling him in for the picture. Pedro tilted his head, drinking from his beer, and Oscar looked up at him with a puzzled expression as you snapped a photo.

“Perfect. That’s going on Instagram for sure,” you teased, and Pedro groaned.

Before anyone could respond, Oscar’s wife walked by, eyeing the hat on Pedro’s head with mock suspicion. Pedro took his cue, unlocking from Oscar and jokingly attacking her with the pointy hat, poking her side with the plastic tip. You snapped another picture, laughing as she swatted him away.

“Send that to me,” she called over her shoulder, and you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket just as Sarah handed you a drink.

•••

The night continued, the energy in the room bubbling up as the countdown to midnight approached. Karaoke had started in one of the rooms, and you couldn’t resist.

Pedro avoided it at all costs, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression. After your rendition of Losing My Religion, he caught your eye.

“That was something, huh?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I was extra terrible just for you,” you shot back, walking over to him. “I know how much you hate this.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” he said.

Just as you were about to respond, a woman’s voice broke through the moment. “Oscar said you were in here,” she said, stepping forward. “Hi.”

You turned to see her approach Pedro, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A casual, intimate gesture that sent a shock of realization through your entire body.

You blink, dumbfounded, as Pedro shifted slightly to make introductions. “This is Julia,” he said, his voice a little too calm for the turmoil suddenly spinning inside you.

Your mind raced, trying to place her. And then it hit you—she was in the group photos he posted from the crew of the movie he was filming in Budapest. One of the producers, you think.

Oh.

Julia greeted you happily, oblivious to the terrible ache now pooling in your chest. You felt your throat tighten, the words you had wanted to say earlier were now swallowed by this unfamiliar wave of jealousy and disappointment. You went mute, unable to find words that wouldn’t betray how much this hurt.

Pedro’s voice broke the silence again, almost too nonchalant. “This is what I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh, great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you didn’t feel.

“And you?” Pedro asked, clearly trying to keep things light. “You said you wanted to talk, too.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mind screamed for you to say something—anything—but all you could muster was, “No, um, it was nothing, really.”

Something stung deep inside you. It was a dull ache, gnawing away at your resolve. You needed a way out. Fast.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you said to her, your voice tight. “If you’ll excuse me…”

And before either of them could say anything more, you slipped away, making a beeline for the kitchen where Oscar stood.

“Hey,” you blurted, pulling him aside. “He’s fucking dating someone? And you didn’t say a thing?”

Oscar looked at you, taken aback. “I—it wasn’t my news to share.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to swallow the embarrassment. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I just… I can't believe I was about to confess my love for him and make a fool of myself. Again.”

Oscar stared at you, his eyebrows raised. “You were what?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah. But now? I mean, clearly, it’s just another sign. The timing’s never right. Never.”

Was it punishment? you thought.

Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain of what to say. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed another drink. “Here,” he said quietly, offering it to you.

You took it, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass.

"It’s fairly new, you know," Oscar said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Like two weeks or something. It’s not serious yet."

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “I don’t.”

Oscar sighed, his hand finding your back, a comforting weight that helped ground you. “I know. I know.”

You knew there was else nothing you could do right now, so you poured the drink down your throat, feeling the burn as it went down.

•••

“There you are,” Pedro called softly, his voice muffled by the cold air as he stepped through the glass doors onto the backyard patio. The wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but the bitter cold felt fitting, almost poetic.

You stood there, your back to him, a silhouette against the frozen horizon. For a moment, he was transported back to the first time he saw you in this very spot, under a much different sky. That night, the air had been warm, filled with the kind of anticipation that crackled with every glance exchanged. You had stood just like this, dressed similarly too, arms crossed against the world, hair cascading down your back like a curtain he desperately wanted to pull aside.

But tonight was different. Tonight, your shoulders were tense, hunched against more than just the cold. When you turned around, your face wasn’t full of curiosity. It was distant, your eyes heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that he knew he was responsible for.

"You bolted out of there," Pedro said, his voice strained as he tried to sound casual, but the worry leaked through.

You gave a soft, bitter hum, a sound he couldn’t decipher but felt in his bones. "I was a bit shocked, honestly."

He swallowed, suddenly nervous, fumbling with the words he had rehearsed in his mind so many times but never managed to say. "I know. I wanted to tell you about her, I just... I don’t know. It’s new. I didn’t think it was important enough yet. I thought I’d find the right moment, but it never felt... appropriate. And I didn’t want to make things weird, you know?"

Pedro kept talking, words spilling out as he tried to explain. He mentioned her name—Julia—said they had met on set, that it wasn’t serious yet, that it had barely even begun. His voice grew quieter, more unsure with every sentence, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

See, Pedro hadn't planned on getting into a relationship, not when his every thought was consumed by you, not when he knew he loved you, and yet here he was. He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

But your expression had already changed. He could see the way your face shut down, the way your gaze hardened, and it twisted something deep inside him.

“Don’t apologize to me about your relationship,” you said, the words sharp and cutting. “That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel like I’m some kind of Machiavellian villain.”

Pedro winced, his breath catching in his throat. He hated this. But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice lower, more controlled.

"Our time never seems to align, does it? It never has, and it never will. It's funny, even.” You paused, looking away, your voice a strained whisper.

Pedro wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that he felt trapped between his own heart and the razor-sharp edge of what was right, what was fair. The guilt and longing were choking him, twisting his insides until all he could feel was the jagged ache of wanting something that was always just out of reach.

You took a deep breath, the cold air clouding in front of you like smoke.

"Are you happy?" you asked, your voice barely audible. A mirror of his very own "Do you love him?" from last year.

Pedro looked at you, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m trying,” he said quietly, the truth in the words landing hard.

You nodded, your lips pressed together in a sad, resigned smile.

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

It was an unspoken agreement—a quiet acceptance that, once again, you were not meant to be. That your lives had written this story long before you’d ever had a say in it.

a/n: enough sadness, their time will come soon ;)

a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3

[amethystarachnid]

FORBIDDEN

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and maybe a tiny bit of fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k (damn)

ᯓ★ TW(s): so much angst that it needs a tw, arranged marriages, Loki vs Tv remote (remote won), Loki vs Spaghetti (Spaghetti won)

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the movies

ᯓ★ Request: Hi! I love the idea for this challenge, so I'd love to request a Forbidden relationship with Loki if that's okay. If you prefer not to write about him, I'm happy to see it with Tony instead! 🤍 ( @nicoline1998enilocin) [we love Loki in this blog <3 ]

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is thick with tension as you stand in the shadows of the grand hall, your heart racing in your chest. From where you are, you can see him—Loki, the God of Mischief, prince of Asgard, and the one person you’re not supposed to love. He sits at the long, golden table, laughing lightly at something his brother Thor says, though his eyes betray the storm of emotions swirling within him. Your chest tightens at the sight, the distance between you feeling more like a chasm than a few short steps.

You shouldn’t be here. You know that. Servants are not meant to linger, to watch, to hope. You belong in the shadows, the corners, where no one sees you. Especially not him. Especially not a prince.

But he sees you. He always does.

A fleeting glance. That’s all he allows himself. The briefest flicker of emerald eyes in your direction, so quick that no one else could ever notice. But you feel it as if his gaze had touched your skin. The heat, the longing, the unspoken words that scream louder than anything ever could.

Loving him is a curse—a dangerous, beautiful curse.

It’s forbidden. He’s the prince, and you… you are nothing more than a servant in the royal palace, an invisible figure in his world of gods and thrones. And yet, despite the danger, despite the constant threat that hangs over both your heads, you can’t stop. You can’t stay away from him, and he can’t seem to let you go.

You remember the last time you were alone together. The secrecy, the stolen moments, the way he kissed you as if he’d been starving for you his whole life. It was desperate. It always is. Each time, you know it could be the last, and it’s killing you.

Tonight, in this crowded room filled with the finest nobles and warriors of Asgard, you stand on the opposite side of the world from him. But you can still feel his presence, a pull stronger than anything else. He looks so calm, so composed, the picture of a perfect prince. But you know better. You know the battle that rages inside him, just as it does inside you.

The door behind you creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat as a guard walks past, his eyes barely glancing your way. A close call. Too close. You lower your head, reminding yourself of the rules, the risks. If anyone found out…

But then you hear it—your name, spoken in that smooth, dark voice that always manages to send shivers down your spine. You don’t even need to turn to know it’s him.

“Meet me,” Loki murmurs, his words barely audible over the clinking of glasses and murmurs of the court. “Tonight. You know where.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. But he doesn’t need you to. You know he’ll be waiting, just as you will be. And when the night falls, and the palace sleeps, you will find each other again. You always do.

But with every meeting, every kiss, every whispered promise in the dead of night, you feel the noose tightening around both your necks. One day, someone will find out. And when they do, your world will come crashing down.

The weight of that knowledge crushes you every second, but none so heavily as when you catch his eye again from across the room. There's so much distance between you—physical, social, cosmic. A prince and a servant. The most forbidden of loves.

But gods help you, you love him anyway. And that may be the most dangerous thing of all.

The night is silent, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the palace gardens and the distant murmur of the wind through the tall, stone walls. You move quietly, your heart pounding in your chest with every step you take toward the secret passage. The same passage you’ve slipped through countless times before.

Your hands shake as you push open the heavy door that leads to the darkened corridor. This is madness. Every fiber of your being screams at you to turn back, to run and never look back. But the pull toward him is stronger, more insistent. It’s like a fire in your veins, a need so deep it terrifies you.

When you finally reach the small alcove where he waits, you stop just before stepping into the moonlight. You know he’s there, hidden in the shadows, but you hesitate. For a brief moment, the weight of what you’re doing—what you’ve been doing—crashes down on you.

You’re risking everything. He is too.

Then you hear the faint sound of his breath, a sharp intake as if he senses your presence, and you step forward. The pale light from the moon bathes the stone floor in silver, and you see him, standing there, tall and cloaked in darkness, his sharp features softened by the night.

"Loki," you whisper, your voice trembling, though you wish it weren’t.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, closing the distance between you with a grace that never fails to steal your breath. His hands reach for you, cold and firm, and when they touch your skin, it feels like an anchor pulling you out of the storm. You melt into his embrace, the tension in your body dissolving as you feel the warmth of him against you.

“You came,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with a relief that mirrors your own. His arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“I always do,” you whisper back, resting your forehead against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath his clothes.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The world outside is distant, and here, in this stolen moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in existence. But it never lasts, and the reality of what you are doing creeps back in like a cold gust of wind.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you murmur, your words barely audible, though you feel him stiffen at your confession.

“I know,” he replies, his voice strained, his breath brushing the top of your head. His fingers run through your hair, gentle but desperate. “But how can I stop? How can I stay away from you when every moment without you feels like I’m being torn apart?”

Your eyes sting as his words sink in, but you force yourself to pull back, just enough to look up at him. His expression is tormented, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely allows anyone to see. But you know. You know him better than anyone else ever could.

“Loki, if they find out—”

“They won’t.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a blade. “I won’t let them. Not Thor, not my father, not anyone.”

There’s a fire in his eyes, a fierce determination, but you shake your head, your heart aching. “You can’t protect me from this. From us. You’re a prince, and I… I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his hand moving to cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don’t say that. You are everything to me.”

Tears burn your eyes as you search his face, desperate to find some solution, some way for this to work, but it feels like the walls are closing in on you both. There’s no way out. You’ve always known that. But you’ve let yourselves fall too far, too deeply.

“I don’t care what I am or what you are,” Loki continues, his voice rough with emotion. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. Do you understand?”

His words wrap around your heart like a vise, both a comfort and a curse. You want to believe him, to pretend that love could be enough to keep you safe. But it’s not. It never has been.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you choke out, your voice breaking, the fear and the love warring inside you.

“You won’t,” he promises, his lips brushing your forehead, soft and reverent. “I’ll tear down the heavens themselves before I let that happen.”

His arms pull you back into him, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. In his embrace, you feel both safe and utterly doomed. You’re trapped between two worlds—the love you feel for him, and the reality of what you are to each other.

For now, in the quiet of the night, you let yourself forget. Forget the palace walls, the crown that weighs heavy on his head, the consequences that lurk around every corner.

In this moment, all that matters is him. The way he holds you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his lips press against yours, slow and full of a need that never seems to fade.

But in the back of your mind, you know this will end. It has to. And when it does, it will shatter you both.

The moment you pull away from Loki’s kiss, reality crashes back with a force that steals your breath. His arms still hold you, but the cold bite of the night air seeps in, reminding you of the walls you’re trapped between. You bury your face in his chest, hoping to hide from the truth, but it’s already too late.

A sudden, echoing sound breaks through the quiet—footsteps, distant but approaching. Too close.

Loki stiffens instantly, his body tense and alert. His hand grips your arm as he pulls you further into the shadows, his expression sharp and calculating. Your heart leaps into your throat as panic grips you. Someone’s coming. Someone knows.

“Stay here,” he whispers urgently, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low but firm. “Don’t move.”

“Loki—”

Before you can protest, he slips into the darkness, silent as a shadow. You press yourself against the cold stone wall, your mind racing, every second dragging on as fear gnaws at you. If you’re found here, like this, with him, it will be the end of everything. There’s no escaping the consequences this time.

The footsteps grow louder, and you can’t breathe, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Then, from the shadows, you hear voices—deep and commanding.

Odin.

You nearly sink to the floor in horror, every muscle in your body seizing as the realization crashes over you. Loki’s father, the Allfather himself, is here. And if he’s here…

“Loki,” Odin’s voice booms, sharp and filled with authority, cutting through the night like ice. “Step forward.”

There’s a pause, a silence so thick it’s suffocating. You can barely make out Loki’s form as he steps forward into the light of the courtyard, facing his father. The tension between them is palpable, thick like smoke.

“I wondered where you had slipped away to,” Odin continues, his voice cold, though laced with something dangerous. “Is there a reason you’re skulking about in the shadows like a common thief, my son?”

Loki stands tall, but you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands are clenched at his sides. You know he’s holding back, trying to mask the fury and fear beneath the surface. “I needed air, Father,” he replies smoothly, though the edge in his voice betrays him. “I find the court’s company rather… tedious.”

Odin’s gaze sharpens, as if he sees right through the lie. “Air, indeed.” His voice lowers, his next words heavy with unspoken meaning. “You’ve been distracted lately. More than usual.”

Your blood runs cold. He knows. He has to know.

“I expect your full attention on the matter at hand,” Odin continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your betrothal must be finalized soon.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Betrothal.

You feel the world tilt beneath your feet, nausea churning in your stomach. Betrothal? What is he talking about?

Loki doesn’t react at first, but you can see the slight twitch in his brow, the flicker of anger that darkens his features.

“There will be no betrothal,” Loki says through clenched teeth, his voice dangerously low.

Odin’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, you hear the warning in his tone. “You have no choice, Loki. As a prince of Asgard, you are bound to your duty. We have an alliance to secure. You will marry Lady Sigyn, and the arrangements will proceed as planned.”

Lady Sigyn. The name rings in your ears like a death knell.

Loki’s jaw tightens, fury flashing across his face. “I won’t be a pawn in your games, Father.”

“You will do what is required of you,” Odin thunders, his voice leaving no room for defiance. “This is not a debate.”

Your legs threaten to give out beneath you, but you force yourself to stay hidden, clutching at the stone wall to keep yourself upright. He’s going to marry someone else. It feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest, the agony too much to bear.

“I don’t care about your alliances or your politics,” Loki spits, his control slipping as the rage breaks through. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think,” Odin snaps, stepping forward, towering over Loki. “You’re blinded by foolishness, by her.”

Her. The word hangs in the air, sharp and cruel.

You.

The blood drains from your face, your heart seizing in panic. Odin knows. He’s known all along.

“This servant girl has no place in your life,” Odin declares, his voice filled with disdain. “She is beneath you, beneath the throne. I will not allow you to throw away your future for something so meaningless.”

Loki’s entire body tenses, fury radiating off him in waves. “She is not meaningless,” he growls, his voice venomous, his control slipping further. “You don’t know anything about what she means to me.”

“And you will forget her,” Odin commands, his tone final and merciless. “If you refuse to do your duty, then she will be sent away, far from Asgard, where you will never see her again.”

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down, your vision blurring with unshed tears. He would banish you. Rip you away from Loki, from everything. The love you’ve kept secret, the love that burns so brightly it hurts—destroyed.

“No,” Loki’s voice is a low, dangerous growl, but there’s an edge of desperation to it. “You can’t take her from me.”

Odin’s eyes blaze with cold fire. “I can. And I will.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t move, don’t breathe, waiting for the moment to shatter. But Loki—Loki steps closer to his father, his eyes burning with defiance.

“If you take her from me,” Loki says quietly, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage, “you’ll lose me too.”

The words hang in the air like a threat, the tension between them palpable, and for a moment, the night itself seems to hold its breath.

But Odin’s face hardens. “You would forsake your family, your throne, for her?”

Loki doesn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched, his breath shallow. Finally, he speaks, his voice low but firm. “I already have.”

Odin stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face, before his expression turns cold, harder than ever. “Then you are no son of mine.”

The words cut deeper than any sword, and you feel the sharp sting of tears spill over as the weight of them sinks in. Loki stands there, frozen for a moment, his face betraying the pain he feels, even if he tries to hide it. Then, without another word, Odin turns and strides away, his footsteps echoing through the night, leaving you and Loki alone in the suffocating silence.

Loki stands there for a long moment, staring at where his father had been, his chest rising and falling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. Then, slowly, he turns to you, his face pale, his eyes dark with anguish.

“I’ve lost him,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of his choice is only now sinking in.

You step toward him, your heart breaking for him, for both of you, but the words won’t come. All you can do is reach for him, pulling him into your arms, holding him as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield him from the world crashing down around you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki’s arms wrap around you, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you are the only ones left in the universe, clinging to each other amidst the wreckage. But you know—deep down—you can’t escape the truth forever.

You’ve both lost too much.

And the worst is yet to come.

The decision gnaws at you for days, eating away at your soul like a poison you can’t expel. Each moment you spend with Loki after that night feels like borrowed time, a dream on the verge of ending. You know what you have to do, but the thought of it turns your stomach, fills you with a dread so deep it feels as if it’s suffocating you.

But you also know why you have to do it.

Loki would never leave you. He would burn the Nine Realms down before he let anyone take you from him. But that’s precisely why you must be the one to leave.

Loki needs his father’s approval more than he’ll ever admit, more than he even realizes. Beneath the layers of defiance, anger, and rebellion, there is still a part of him—perhaps the most fragile part—that craves Odin’s acceptance, his love. You’ve seen the way Loki’s face tightens every time Odin’s words cut too deep, the way his heart breaks a little more with every dismissal. He hides it well from the world, but not from you. Never from you.

And now, because of you, that fragile part of him has been shattered.

The memory of Odin’s voice still echoes in your mind, cold and merciless: “Then you are no son of mine.” You remember the way Loki’s breath caught, the brief flicker of pain that crossed his face before he masked it with anger. But you saw it. You felt it.

This is not what you wanted for him. Not this rift, not this war between him and his father. He’s lost too much already, and you can’t be the reason he loses more. You can’t be the reason he’s torn apart, trying to balance his love for you and his duty to his family.

You make your decision, the weight of it crashing down on you with a finality that leaves you breathless.

You’ll leave. You’ll exile yourself to Midgard—Earth—where no one will find you. Where no one will look. You’ll disappear from his life, make it seem like you were taken, lost, or gone by choice. If he believes you’ve left, if he thinks you’ve moved on, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll do what he must. He’ll marry Lady Sigyn, secure his place as prince, and perhaps… perhaps he’ll finally earn the approval he’s always longed for.

It will destroy you. You know this. But if it saves him, it will be worth it.

That night, you leave without a word.

You wait until the palace is asleep, the halls quiet, only the distant sound of guards patrolling. You know this place too well by now, know the hidden corridors, the back passageways where no one will notice you slipping away. Your heart hammers in your chest, every step feeling heavier than the last, but you push through the pain.

The small bag you carry feels like a weight tethering you to the ground. Inside are only the essentials—things you will need to survive on Earth. It feels wrong, surreal, to leave behind everything you’ve ever known, but it’s a small price to pay for Loki’s future.

As you pass through the courtyard, the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a pale, silver light over Asgard. It feels like the last time you’ll ever see it—your home, the place where you fell in love with a prince you never should have touched. Your throat tightens, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

The Bifrost glows in the distance, a beacon of escape, and your steps quicken, though every part of you screams to turn back. You’ll leave through the Bifrost, beg Heimdall to send you to Midgard. You pray he will understand, that he’ll let you go without question.

But as you near the Rainbow Bridge, something stops you in your tracks.

A figure stands in your path, his golden eyes glowing beneath his helm. Heimdall.

You knew he would be here, guarding the way to the other realms, but the intensity of his gaze as it falls upon you makes you falter. He sees everything, knows what you intend before you even speak.

“Heimdall, I—” Your voice trembles, but you force yourself to stand tall, to speak with conviction. “I need you to send me to Midgard. Please.”

Heimdall says nothing at first, his gaze piercing through you, as if reading every secret, every hidden intention behind your eyes. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“Do you truly believe leaving will solve anything?” he asks, his voice low, but full of knowing. “Do you think disappearing will bring him peace?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you shake your head, biting down the sob that claws its way up your throat. “He can’t lose everything because of me. He needs to stay here. He needs to—”

“To marry another woman and live in misery?” Heimdall’s gaze softens, just barely. “Loki would never forgive himself. Or you.”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, trying to keep your voice steady. “He will. In time. He will forget me, and he’ll be what his father wants him to be.”

Heimdall’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a heaviness to his words when he speaks again. “Loki loves you more than you know. His path may be fraught with darkness, but losing you will plunge him deeper into it than you realize.”

You freeze at his words, the full weight of them sinking into your chest. A part of you knows he’s right. Loki’s love for you is boundless, a consuming fire that would burn anything in its path to keep you safe. But that’s why you have to leave. It’s the only way to keep him from losing more than he already has.

“He’ll survive,” you whisper, the words almost breaking you. “He’ll find a way to live without me.”

Heimdall’s gaze holds yours for a long, agonizing moment. “Perhaps. But will you survive without him?”

The question feels like a blow to your chest, and for a moment, the resolve you’ve built crumbles. You can’t imagine a world without Loki. Can’t imagine a life where you don’t feel his hands pulling you close in the dead of night, his voice whispering your name like a sacred thing.

But that’s why you have to do this.

“I have to try,” you choke out, your tears finally falling freely. “He needs his family. He needs his father. He needs to be what Asgard wants him to be.”

Heimdall watches you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with something that looks almost like sorrow. But then, slowly, he steps aside, clearing your path to the Bifrost.

“If this is your choice,” he says quietly, “I will not stop you.”

You stare at the shimmering path before you, the way to Midgard open, the escape you so desperately sought now within reach. But now that you’re standing on the brink of it, your heart feels like it’s being torn in two.

Without another word, you take a step forward, and then another. Each step feels heavier than the last, like your heart is shattering with every inch you put between yourself and Asgard—between yourself and him.

Just as you reach the edge of the Bifrost, you stop, one final thought seizing you.

Loki will wake, and he’ll look for you. He’ll search every corner of the realm, desperate to find you, to pull you back into his arms. But you won’t be there.

You press a hand to your chest, willing the pain to subside, but it only deepens. And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you step into the beam of light and let it take you.

As you’re pulled toward Midgard, the last image that flashes in your mind is Loki’s face—his eyes, his smile, the way he said your name like a promise.

And then it’s gone, along with everything you ever knew.

The moment Loki wakes, something feels wrong. The cold weight of the bed beside him, where you should be, is empty. His hand moves to the space where you usually lie, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but there’s nothing. The absence hits him like a sudden plunge into icy water, and panic claws at his chest.

“Y/N?”

His voice echoes in the room, but only silence answers.

He sits up quickly, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes scan the dimly lit chamber, searching for any sign of you—your cloak tossed on a chair, your hairpin on the table, anything. But the room is empty. Too empty. His gut twists as dread coils within him.

You’ve vanished.

He throws on his cloak and storms out of the room, a desperate, wild energy propelling him forward. His mind races, a hundred possibilities flashing through his head, each worse than the last. Where could you have gone? You wouldn’t leave him without saying anything. You wouldn’t.

He searches the palace, every hallway, every hidden alcove where you might have retreated. Each passing minute tightens the vice around his heart, and a dark, sickening fear begins to take root.

It’s only when he reaches the gardens that he spots Heimdall, standing still, his gaze fixed far beyond the realm of Asgard.

“Where is she?” Loki demands, his voice sharp, though beneath it, there’s a tremor of fear. “Heimdall, where is she?”

The gatekeeper’s golden eyes shift toward him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of sympathy, a look that confirms Loki’s worst suspicions.

“She’s gone,” Heimdall says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow.

Loki’s heart plummets, the ground seeming to tilt beneath him. “Gone?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Where?”

Heimdall doesn’t answer immediately, but the silence speaks volumes. Loki’s eyes narrow, anger flashing in them like a storm. “Where?”

“Midgard,” Heimdall finally says, the word falling between them like a death sentence. “She left… to spare you.”

The words don’t register at first. Loki stares at Heimdall, his mind struggling to make sense of it. You… left? To spare him? It feels impossible, unreal, like some cruel trick the Norns themselves had spun just to watch him unravel.

“She left because she believed it would save you,” Heimdall continues, his voice gentle but firm. “To make you fulfill your duty. To win back your father’s approval.”

Loki’s body goes rigid, his chest tightening painfully as the full weight of it hits him. You’d left him. You’d sacrificed yourself, your happiness, to give him something he never even wanted—a hollow peace with his father, a loveless marriage that would tie him to a woman he didn’t care for.

“No…” The word tumbles from his lips, broken, as if by saying it, he could undo the truth. “No, she wouldn’t… she couldn’t…” But even as he says it, he knows it’s exactly what you would do. You would throw yourself into the abyss if it meant saving him, even if it destroyed you in the process.

The pain is unbearable. The thought of you, alone on Midgard, thinking that leaving was the only way to save him—it rips through him like a blade. His vision blurs, the edges of his world collapsing in on itself. He turns on his heel, moving before he even knows what he’s doing.

He’ll find you. He’ll bring you back. Nothing will stop him. Not his father, not this cursed marriage, not the Nine Realms themselves.

But just as he storms toward the Bifrost, the familiar voice of his mother stops him in his tracks.

“Loki.”

Frigga’s voice is soft but firm, and when he turns to face her, her expression is filled with concern, with sadness. “I know what you’re thinking, but you cannot go after her.”

“Why not?” Loki snaps, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. “Why should I stay here and let her go? I won’t.”

Frigga steps closer, her eyes searching his face. “Because your father has commanded it. And because you must meet Lady Sigyn today. The arrangements have already been made.”

Loki’s blood runs cold. Sigyn. His betrothed. The woman he’s being forced to marry.

His fists clench at his sides, his mind screaming at him to refuse, to defy his father’s every order, but the weight of his mother’s words, of Odin’s power over him, crashes down like a hammer. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—trapped between the burning desire to chase after you and the crushing reality of his duty.

“I can’t,” he breathes, shaking his head. “I can’t marry her, Mother. Not when—”

Frigga’s hand rests gently on his arm, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I know, my son. But for now, you must.”

The meeting with Lady Sigyn is nothing short of torturous.

The grand hall where the introductions take place feels stifling, every gilded surface mocking him, every face around the table a reminder of the farce he’s being forced to play. Lady Sigyn stands before him, dressed in the finest Asgardian silks, her long blonde hair flowing like a waterfall down her back. She is every inch the perfect noblewoman, her posture elegant, her beauty undeniable.

But Loki can’t see her. Not really.

Every time his eyes fall on her, all he sees is you. Your laugh, your touch, your smile when you tease him in private moments. Every word Sigyn speaks fades into background noise, drowned out by the memories of your voice, the softness of it when you whispered his name in the dark.

“I hope this union will bring peace to our realms,” Sigyn says, her voice calm, rehearsed, a woman born to play this role. She speaks of duty and honor, of the alliance their marriage will secure.

Loki nods, his jaw tight, but his mind is a thousand miles away.

He remembers how you would laugh at the absurdity of formalities, how you would roll your eyes at the very thought of grand speeches like this. You were never afraid to speak your mind to him, never afraid to push him, to make him feel real. Sigyn’s words, though perfectly crafted, feel like ash in his mouth, a hollow echo of something he cannot connect to.

When she reaches for his hand, Loki almost recoils, the touch foreign, unwelcome. He lets her take it, but it’s wrong. Her fingers feel cold, delicate but empty. They’re not your hands, not the hands he’s craved, not the touch he would burn worlds for.

The more Sigyn speaks, the more unbearable it becomes. Her beauty, her grace, her calm demeanor—it’s everything Asgard expects of its princess. But Loki doesn’t want perfection. He doesn’t want her. He wants the fire, the passion, the laughter that only you could bring him.

He wants you.

As the meeting drags on, Loki’s mind spirals, twisting in on itself. How could he be standing here, listening to the woman he’s supposed to marry, when the only woman who truly owns his heart is gone? He doesn’t care about alliances, about politics, about securing his place in Asgard. All of it is meaningless without you.

The pain of your absence is suffocating, a wound that will never heal. You, who sacrificed everything for him, who left so that he might live the life Odin had planned for him. And now he’s here, going through the motions, trapped in a future that feels like a prison.

Sigyn’s voice fades again, and all Loki can think of is finding you, holding you in his arms, telling you that he doesn’t care about his father’s approval. That he would give up his throne, his title, everything — if only you would come back to him.

Because without you, none of it means anything at all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It’s strange, this new life you’ve carved out for yourself on Midgard.

At first, it was jarring—too quiet, too mundane, and too empty. The absence of Asgard's grand halls, the shimmering skies, the bustling sounds of a realm so unlike this one… and the absence of him. The silence was the worst part. You had grown so used to Loki’s presence—his wry comments, his wit, the way his voice could fill any room, soft yet commanding. The nights felt impossibly long without his warmth beside you.

But eventually, you adapted. You had to.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months, and you forced yourself to settle into this new reality. You found a job—something simple, something that kept your mind busy and your hands occupied, so you wouldn’t think too much about what you left behind. The people here were kind, in a way that felt foreign but comforting. They didn’t ask questions about who you were or where you came from, and for that, you were grateful.

But no matter how much time passed, there was always a hollow space inside you, a part of you that felt incomplete. You could pretend, most days, that you were fine—that you had made peace with your decision. But every now and then, when you walked home alone, when you lay in your bed at night staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest would return, sharp and unforgiving.

You still thought of him. You wondered how he was, whether he’d married Sigyn, whether he had found some semblance of happiness without you. Whether he had moved on.

Whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

It’s been a long day at work, and your legs ache as you make your way up the stairs to your small apartment. The autumn air is crisp, the streets of Midgard quiet and peaceful as you climb the last few steps, your breath coming out in small clouds. You fumble with your keys as you unlock the door, mind drifting to the usual thoughts of dinner and maybe a long bath.

You push the door open, kicking it shut behind you with a sigh of relief, and set your bag down. The apartment is dark, just as you left it this morning. You reach for the light switch, but before your fingers even touch it, you feel it.

The presence.

A chill runs down your spine. You know this feeling—the prickle of awareness, the way the air seems to shift around you. It’s the feeling of someone powerful, someone familiar, watching you. Your heart races as you turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

He’s there.

Loki stands in the corner of your apartment, bathed in shadows, but there’s no mistaking him. His tall, lean frame, his raven hair falling just past his shoulders, and those piercing green eyes that seem to see straight through you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. You can’t think.

It’s like he’s stepped out of a dream—one you’ve had so many times it hurts. But this… this is no dream.

“Loki…” His name slips from your lips, a whisper, a question, a prayer all at once.

He doesn’t move at first, just watches you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something darker, more raw than you’ve ever seen before.

“You left,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. There’s no anger in it, no accusation, but the pain beneath the words is unmistakable. “You left without telling me.”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. There’s so much you want to say, so much you need to explain, but the words stick in your throat. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. All the reasons, all the justifications you told yourself back then seem to crumble in the face of his presence.

“I…” You force the words out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had to.”

Loki steps forward, and in the dim light, you can see the shadows under his eyes, the way his face is drawn, as though he hasn’t slept in days—weeks, maybe. There’s a desperation in his movements, a restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Had to?” His voice is sharper now, the hurt lacing every syllable. “You had to disappear? You had to leave me without a word, without a trace, as if we meant nothing to each other?”

You flinch at the raw pain in his words, and your heart aches with the weight of it. You take a step toward him, shaking your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. Loki, you have to understand—I thought I was doing what was best for you. Your father, the marriage… I couldn’t stand in the way of your future. I couldn’t be the reason you lost everything.”

Loki’s eyes flash with something fierce, something bordering on rage. “My future?” He laughs, but it’s a bitter, hollow sound. “You think any of that matters to me without you? You think I would trade you for a throne I never wanted? For a father’s approval that means nothing to me?”

You stare at him, frozen, your mind reeling. “But… I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he cuts in, his voice hard, but his eyes soften as they lock onto yours. “I didn’t want any of it. Not the marriage, not Asgard’s politics, not my father’s favor. All I ever wanted was you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The words you longed to hear, the ones you feared you never would—they hang in the air between you, heavy with truth and regret.

“Loki…” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I… I left so you could be free.”

“Free?” His eyes darken, and he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that the familiar scent of him—magic, leather, and something inherently Loki—wraps around you like a fog. “I’ve never been more imprisoned than in the moment you were gone.”

You blink back tears, your vision blurring as his words sink in. The months of separation, of silence, of convincing yourself you were doing the right thing—it all unravels in a single moment.

“I thought I was saving you,” you confess, your voice cracking. “I thought I was doing what was right.”

Loki’s hands reach out, and before you can even process it, his fingers are gently cupping your face, his touch so familiar, so warm. “You were always what was right,” he murmurs, his voice breaking with emotion. “I didn’t want their approval. I didn’t want their expectations. All I wanted was you.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, and before you know it, you’re collapsing into his arms, the months of pain and loneliness crashing down all at once. He pulls you close, his grip tight, as if afraid you’ll vanish again if he lets go. His lips press against your hair, your temple, every touch a reassurance that he’s here—that this is real.

“I searched everywhere for you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I tore through realms to find you. And now that I have, I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.”

You cling to him, your face buried in his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The weight of your decision, the months of agony, seem to melt away in his embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to breathe.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Loki,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that undoes you. “You don’t need to be. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

And as his lips meet yours in a kiss that is both desperate and gentle, filled with all the words that were left unsaid, you know he’s right.

The decision isn’t made lightly, but once Loki has you back in his arms, there’s no going back. Not to Asgard’s grand halls, not to the suffocating weight of duty, and certainly not to the life his father had tried to carve out for him. He’s already wasted too much time, bound by the expectations of others.

So he stays. On Midgard. With you.

It’s a wild, audacious choice—and exactly the kind of thing Loki would do.

The transition, however, is a bit… rocky.

A few days after he’s settled into your apartment, you come home from work to find him sitting on the couch, staring at the TV remote like it’s some kind of strange artifact. He holds it up the moment you walk in.

“What is this infernal device?” he asks, his voice laced with frustration, as if the small piece of plastic has personally wronged him. “I’ve been trying to command this ‘box of illusions’ to show me something worth watching for hours!”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip as you take off your coat. “That’s… a TV remote, Loki. You’re supposed to press the buttons, not talk to it.”

His brow furrows, clearly unimpressed. “Ridiculous,” he mutters, tossing the remote aside with a look of disdain. “Why should I be at the mercy of these buttons when I have the power to bend reality?”

“Because,” you say, walking over to him and taking a seat on the couch, “here on Midgard, we use buttons. And reality-bending might raise some eyebrows with the neighbors.”

He huffs but doesn’t argue, though you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Midgardians and their absurd contraptions…” he mutters under his breath, but then he turns to you, his expression softening as he reaches for your hand. “At least you’re worth all of this.”

You can’t help but smile, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I’m glad you think so.”

The adjustment to Midgardian life isn’t just about TV remotes, though. Loki, for all his godlike powers and silver-tongued brilliance, is… well, a little out of his element in this new world.

For instance, grocery shopping.

The first time you take him to a supermarket, he stands in the produce aisle, staring at the variety of fruits and vegetables as if they’ve personally offended him.

“Why are there so many kinds of apples?” he demands, picking up a Granny Smith and inspecting it with suspicion. “What is the difference between this and the others?”

“They’re just different types, Loki,” you explain, grabbing a couple of apples and putting them in your basket. “You’ll get used to it.”

He narrows his eyes, still unconvinced, before tossing the apple back into the pile. “Midgard is an odd place.”

But despite his grumbling, you can tell he’s slowly warming up to it. There’s a lightness to him now that you haven’t seen in so long. A freedom. Without Asgard’s heavy expectations looming over him, Loki is… different. Lighter. Happier.

Of course, he still has his dramatic moments.

One evening, you come home to find Loki pacing the living room with a determined look on his face, wearing your floral apron—the one with little daisies on it—while holding a spatula like it’s a weapon of great importance.

“Darling,” he declares the moment you walk through the door, “I have decided to master the art of Midgardian cuisine.”

You blink at him, trying very hard not to laugh at the sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard, dressed in a flowery apron and looking deadly serious. “Is that so?”

He nods gravely. “Indeed. You deserve the finest of meals, prepared by the finest of hands.” He pauses, glancing toward the kitchen with a frown. “However, these ‘instructions’ you provided me with are… unnecessarily complicated.”

You peer into the kitchen, where you spot an open cookbook lying on the counter, pages spattered with flour and other mysterious substances. Loki has clearly attempted something—whether it’s edible or not is another question.

“Okay,” you say, stepping closer to inspect the chaos. “What exactly were you trying to make?”

“Something called… spaghetti?” He says the word like it’s in another language, which, technically, it is. “It seemed simple enough, but this… pasta refused to cooperate.”

You stifle a laugh, eyeing the pot of overcooked noodles sitting in the sink. “I think you might’ve boiled it a little too long.”

“Too long?” Loki frowns, clearly offended by the suggestion. “It was behaving most stubbornly. I merely asserted my dominance.”

“That’s… not how cooking works, Loki.”

He huffs, folding his arms. “Midgardian food is clearly inferior. I’ll never understand why you enjoy it so much.”

You chuckle, reaching up to wipe a streak of flour from his cheek. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

He leans into your touch, his frustration melting away as he pulls you into his arms. “For you, I would do far worse than battle rebellious pasta.”

“I know,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But maybe we should just order pizza.”

He sighs dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “If we must.”

Despite the quirks and the occasional mishap, there’s something incredibly sweet about watching Loki navigate this new life. He’s traded his princely titles and royal duties for quiet evenings with you, for late-night walks through the city, for the simple joy of waking up next to you without the weight of Asgard on his shoulders.

And it’s not just about what he’s given up—it’s about what he’s gained. Here, with you, he’s free to be himself, without the judgment of his father or the expectations of the court. He’s no longer Loki, the Trickster Prince. He’s just… Loki.

And as the two of you sit together on the couch, sharing a pizza (which Loki begrudgingly admits is quite good), he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice warm and low, “I never thought I could be happy like this. But you… you make everything worth it.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “I feel the same way.”

There’s a moment of quiet, the two of you just enjoying each other’s presence. And then Loki, ever the trickster, grins down at you.

“But I am going to master that television contraption,” he says, his tone utterly serious. “It will not defeat me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Whatever you say, Loki.”

And as the night stretches on, with him beside you, you realize that this—this simple, beautiful life—is more than you ever dreamed of. It’s not the palace of Asgard or the grandeur of the realms, but it’s yours. And that’s all that matters.

Because as long as you’re with Loki, wherever you are, it will always feel like home.

[dontaskmemybias]

Pretty

Pairing: Idol!Lee Know x afab Ninth Member!reader Request: Yes Theme: Friends to Lovers Contains: Anxiety, Hurt/comfort, jealousy, teeny angst if you squint. There is no smut in this part, its all buildup lmao sorry but there will be smut in the next part. Word Count: 10k+ Note: This is a work of fiction and does not portray any of the members irl. I decided to go with a friends to lovers slow burn since you wanted a longer fic anon and I figured I could do a bit more like this, and I was correct, I started writing and just like never stopped? This has become a behemoth of a story and I'll be releasing it in two parts because damn. I know you requested this like a year ago but life happened hard, hopefully you still get to read it.

Author's Personal Note: This week has been awful. I can't describe how tired and scared I have been since Tuesday morning. I haven't written in almost a year because my motivation just was not there and I don't know if it was the existential dread or the overwhelming urge to just be in control of some narrative that drove me to start writing this absolute beast of a story but here we are. Enjoy it, don't, I don't really care either way.

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Snow blankets the surrounding hills as you burrow yourself further into your winter puffer. The boys are all running around the field, throwing snowballs at each other and cackling wildly. You chuckle to yourself seeing their childlike display. You have all gathered to film SKZCode "Winter is Coming" (you and the boys had been binge watching Game of Thrones in your free time and decided to take a little inspiration from it for the title) You let out a laugh when you see Changbin nail Hyunjin in the back of the head with a snowball and in true Jinnie fashion Hyunjin dramatically flails on the ground until Changbin comes over to comfort him.

You had been through so much with these eight boys, late nights in the studio recording your parts until they were perfect, early mornings in the dance studio drilling choreography until it was perfect, you loved it all, but moments like these when you could all let loose and have some fun? Those were your favorites.

Being the only woman in the group was a bit of a challenge in some ways, but it was nice having eight guys to look out for you in every aspect of life. You had formed a bond with these guys over the years, each friendship blossoming and holding something unique.

If you ever needed a shoulder to cry on, you knew you could turn to your leader Bang Chan and he wouldn't just comfort you, he would help you figure out what to do. Only one year your senior and yet his wisdom was that of an 85 year old war vet. Chan was your rock.

Need workout tips or someone to belt girl group songs with? Changbin was your man. He was always willing to help you stay healthy, whether that be helping you with your fitness routine, or working on your mental health. Changbin was there for you when antis said you looked too fat and cheered you up all night. He was the ultimate hype man.

Felix was often in your dorm baking with you when you were stressed (stress baking is both a blessing and a curse). He would massage your shoulders when you got too tense. He really was the sunshine in your life.

Whenever you wanted to try something new—a restaurant, an online game, anything at all—Seungmin would join you. He would say he had been meaning to go there or try that anyway, and this just gave him an excuse, but you knew he did it, so you didn't ever feel lonely. He was like the little brother you never had.

You and Hyunjin bonded over your love for art. The two of you had done all the cheesy trends where you paint for ten minutes then swap paintings until they are both finished (it ended up with an abomination with a cat head and a wolf body, you named it Lee Bang after Felix, Bang Chan, and Lee Know, you both laughed so hard you were in tears) you also would often sketch one another to get better at portraits. Time spent with Hyunjin was always amazing.

Anytime you had a fashion emergency you knew you could count on Innie. He would roast your outfits when they were too "millennial sheik" as he would say, but then immediately assist. He was also great to couch rot and watch movies with on your off days. He was basically your bestie.

Anytime you were feeling down and you just really needed a good laugh you knew that you could turn to Jisung. You and Jisung had bonded very hard very early on because you both suffer from anxiety and panic attacks. The two of you had helped each other through so many at this point it was basically second nature. When you ugly sob in front of someone and they trust you enough to do it in return you know it's a friendship built to last. You and Jisung were basically soulmates.

Finally there was Minho. Your relationship with Minho was… interesting, to say the least. You grew close with him simply because he was your soulmate's soulmate. Anywhere Minho went, Jisung went, and anywhere Jisung went, you went. So the three of you grew very close very fast. Minho's sense of humor perfectly matched yours and the two of you would often bicker back and forth simply because it was fun and it often drove the other members crazy. The bickering started innocently enough, however, a few months ago something changed. The bickering you loved became… borderline flirty? The other members often referred to you both as a married couple and would call Jisung your son. It was all in good fun and it really didn't bother you, but every time someone outside the group made the same jokes, Minho would get this look on his face. You couldn't quite place the emotion behind it, but you recently found yourself thinking about it for much too long.

You are brought back to the present from your ruminating when something wet and cold hits the back of your head followed by maniacal laughter.

"Minnie, that was evil!" You try to sound mad but you can't hide the giggles that escape you at the younger boys' antics. He just sticks his tongue out as you and laughs while running away.

You are fully laughing now, trying to shake the snow out of your hair when you feel warm arms wrap around you from behind.

"You're shivering little moon bear" Minho's breathy chuckle ruffles your hair and you laugh.

Shuffling in his arms to face him you look up and pout. "It's cold out! Of course I'm shivering Min. And why do you insist on referring to me by my SKZOO?"

"Because I find the little pout you do every time I do adorable." He smirks down at you and you think the flush adorning your ears is no longer just from the cold.

"YOH LOVEBIRDS GET OVER HERE IT'S TIME TO FILM!" Changbin's voice rings out over the set and you flinch a little which causes Minho to hold you just a bit tighter.

"Come on moon bear, time to film." He gently whispers to you while tucking you under his arm and leading you toward the group.

~✨~

Filming was going great! Sledding with a pitcher of water was pretty hard but you had loads of fun and managed not to come in last. When it came to the balloon popping portion Minho decided to come behind you like he had before filming and wrap his arms around you.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear "You looked cold again little moon bear." You chuckled when he began swaying you both side to side.

"You're going to start a dating rumor if you keep this up Min." You whispered back.

"Let people talk, how can I just stand by while my favorite girl freezes?" Your breath hitched a little at the comment, whispered so close to your ear you could almost feel his lips on your skin.

"Fair, but you have to deal with the staff if it becomes a problem." You sighed out, settling into his warm arms.

He was glued to you for the rest of the shoot.

~✨~

After getting home from the very fun, very cold, shoot, you decided to take a nice long hot shower and then maybe order some delivery when you got out.

You took your time in the shower until you were basically out of hot water then wrapped yourself in your fluffiest towel and went to the kitchen for some water. Your heart almost fell out of your ass and you let out a shriek when you walked by your living room and saw two people sitting on your couch.

"Y/NNIE My eardrums! Why did you have to scream so loud?" Jisung wailed from his spot on the couch.

"Yeah you baby it's just us damn." Minho scoffed. They both froze when they turned and saw you in just a towel, Minho's ears turning a fiery red and Jisung's eyes going wide. They both quickly looked away and started stammering out apologies, not realizing your state of dress. You let out a giggle at their reactions.

"Chill guys, you act like you've never seen a girl in a towel before, you just scared the shit out of me because I didn't know you were coming." They both let out a little laugh at that and relaxed a bit into the couch, still looking anywhere other than at your towel-clad form.

"Sorry, we wanted to surprise you with Kimchi Jjigae since you were so cold today and maybe watch some movies?" Jisung said quietly.

"You brought food? Ignore my previous complaints, Ji, Min, you are both angels who could do no wrong and I love you with all my heart! Let me put some clothes on then we can watch whatever you want yeah?"

"Yeah" "Sounds good" The boys yelled back as you went to your room to change.

You all spent the rest of the night tangled up on the couch watching shitty rom-coms

~✨~

The next morning after dance practice you get home and shower then realize that you're finally going to have a morning free the next day. Scrolling through your phone looking for things to do you come across a poster for the newest horror flick that's showing tonight. You screenshot it and drop it into the group chat titled "SoulBros" Jisung's idea.

SoulBros:

JiJi😘🥰😂: Oh hell no! That movie looks way too scary! Sorry love ur on ur own.

Min😈😘😜: Sorry I promised Lix I would help him with the new choreo.

🌝Bear: You both suck :/ Guess I'll go alone.

JiJi😘🥰😂: Noona ur so old just use emojis 😑

You laugh at Ji's dig; it is accurate. You guess it's time to pull out the big guns. You dial the number on your phone, and on the third ring, it picks up.

"Yes old lady?" You scoff at his (fake) disrespect.

"Minnie, I want to go see the new horror movie tonight because we have a free morning tomorrow but Ji is too scared to come and Minho is busy. Should I go alone?" You bite back your smile knowing what he is going to say.

Seungmin's voice cracks a bit over the phone call and you hear sheets rustling. "That new one about the witch in the woods? I've actually been wanting to see that too but everyone's too scared to come with me. I could go with you if you want?" You smile to yourself, you knew he wouldn't let you go to the movies alone, let alone to a horror film.

~✨~

"That was INSANE! I had no idea he had a brother the whole time!" You are bouncing up and down, filled with adrenaline from the movie.

"Yeah, that was a twist I actually didn't see coming. Pretty crazy." Seungmin is acting all calm but you know he enjoyed the movie as well.

"Hey Minnie, thanks for coming with me. I had a really fun time!" You say while ruffling his hair.

"Yeah yeah, like I said, I wanted to see it too."

"Hey wanna go grab some food before we go home? There's this hot pot spot nearby I've been dying to try!" You look at him with puppy-dog eyes and he lets out a sigh.

"Yeah I'm pretty hungry, and hot pot does sound amazing right about now."

~✨~

After stuffing your faces at the new hot pot place you finally made your way back home. Walking in you let out a long satisfied sigh and take off your shoes.

"Someone's home late." You nearly jump out of your skin at the grumbly voice coming from your living room.

"Jesus Fuck Min one of these days you're gonna give me a heart attack!" You yell out while grabbing a blanket from your armchair and bringing it to the couch where you unceremoniously plop down next to Minho who acts annoyed at your proximity but is quick to wrap an arm around you.

"Where were you? I've been here for like thirty minutes." He almost sounds… worried? Angry? You can't place it.

"Oh I just went to see that movie I texted you and Ji about then went and got some hot pot."

"Alone?"

"Oh no, Minnie came with me. Said he had been wanting to see the movie too but you know that kid, he just doesn't like me doing things alone." Minho grumbles something that you can't quite make out but then squeezes you to his side and turns on the TV.

"What was that Min?"

"I would've gone with you." He looks you dead in the eyes when he says it. You can't figure it out but it almost seems like he's mad at you?

"Well sorry Min, you said you were busy and I didn't know you wanted to see the movie too, I'd see it again if you wanted to go see it?" You try smiling at him to quell whatever was going on with him and it seems to work because he cracks a tiny smile and just pulls you closer to him while putting on the first shitty rom-com he sees.

~✨~

It was finally time for the next SKZCode! The staff didn't tell anyone what these episodes would be about but said you would all have fun.

You walked into the studio and saw a giant game board and war flashbacks of the last time you all played monopoly flashed through your mind. Images of Hyunjin screaming at Seungmin for putting a hotel on the most expensive rent on the board and Seungmin's shit-eating grin flashed through your mind.

The staff quickly explained the game and everyone got super excited. SoulRACHA was glued together any chance you got as per usual and everything was going great… until they announced the heart fluttering game.

Now, you wouldn't say your heart fluttered easily, if Felix had tried to get your heart racing you're sure you would be fine. Changbin? Piece of cake. Of course, you've never been very lucky.

You get paired with Minho. The expert at getting you worked up. (When you bicker! Get your mind out of the gutter.)

"Will you be able to hear what we say?" Minho tries to look innocent as he asks the question, but you can already feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Only if you speak loudly, we decided it would be more fun if STAY can't hear what you whisper to each other." One of the staff quickly explains.

Minho's grin turns sinister and a single thought crosses your mind.

I am so fucked.

Minho stalks toward you once the camera starts rolling and comes around behind you to wrap his arms around you like always. You can handle this, this is normal for you two. Your heart rate stays the same.

You feel him lean in until his lips are almost touching your ear.

"Hey there, little moon bear. This skirt you wore today is very pretty, did you wear it for STAY or for me?" He whispers so only you can hear. He is so close to you that you feel his breath tickling your ear.

The ears wiggle a little bit then settle. You can do this Y/N, Pull it together.

Minho notices and chuckles, pulling you tighter against him.

"I'm sure your pretty skirt would look even better with someone's hands underneath it."

You let out a gasp and the guys go wild. You know STAY's are going to have a field day with this footage. You are now squirming in Minho's tight grip, trying to escape his now searing hands, a burning flush spreading across your face.

Minho almost sounds surprised when he breathes out "Shit."

You think about his words and his arms wrapped around you all night.

~✨~

MinBear has become your official ship name from STAY's, after Minho's stunt during the last SKZCode STAY have been posting online about the possibility of you two dating.

You, Minho, and Jisung just laugh about it whenever it gets brought up and everything seems to go back to normal between you and Minho.

If you dream about him whispering those words in your ear at night, well that's just nobody's business.

~✨~

During the next SKZCode the staff decides to play into STAY's delusions and make you and Minho play husband and wife. The catch? Minho is the wife.

~✨~

"HAHAHA HYUNG, NOONA, WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!" Innie's voice carries across the room when you and Minho walk into the room. Minho is in the brown wig from SKZ Family, a gaudy pink dress with far too many ruffles, and ballet flats with little pink bows on them while you are wearing a wig with a receding hairline (bye bye idol image), a flannel shirt, and blue jeans. The boys all burst out laughing when you two strike a pose and show off your "wedding rings" (they are blue raspberry ring pops).

"Hello everyone! I am Joe and this is my second wife Mindy!" You smile at the group and they all start howling with laughter one again.

You both decided to play into the roles WAY too much to hopefully show STAY that you two really are just best friends. You don't need the dating rumors to turn into a full blown scandal.

"Oh baby, dear, my loveliest little sunflower, who do you think is the killer?" You turn to Minho and try to hold back your laughter at seeing him wrestle with the ruffles that keep coming up from the collar and tickling his nose.

"Oh my handsome, manly, bravest lionheart, I think it was that barista for sure!" He looks up and bats his eyelashes at you for dramatic effect.

And for some reason, instead of spewing back some heinously cheesy line, you are struck with a totally unwelcome thought.

Minho is so Pretty.

What the fuck?

~✨~

The rest of the shoot goes by fairly quickly. It devolves into chaos, as things normally do with the nine of you. But the rest of the time you are a little more fidgety than usual. The unwelcome thought about your best friend Minho burrowing into your brain until it fully settles and the shoot is over and you are left with the realization that your best friend is pretty.

You'd rather not unpack that.

~✨~

A few weeks pass by and you successfully manage to bury your realization about Minho deep in your subconscious to the point where you haven't thought about it in two whole days! (That's impressive! Really! You initially thought about it at least five times a day… okay like five times an hour)

Finally the group had a whole weekend off! No SKZCode, no crazy schedules, just you, your two best friends, a mountain of takeout and snacks, and a movie marathon.

"Pass the popcorn Ji!" You made grabby hands at Jisung and he just laughed and passed over the bowl.

"Oi! Ya big babies scooch and make some room I wanna be in the middle." Minho yelled out, passing you both a soju bottle.

"Oooohh hyung you know me so well! I love the Strawberry soju!" Jisung grabbed his bottle, smiling up at Minho.

"And you got me yogurt flavored? You must really love us Min!" You smiled up at Minho.

Minho looked down at Jisung then over to you where his eyes lingered a beat too long. You held eye contact until it was a bit too much for you and you looked away. You heard Minho let out a small chuckle as he sat between you and Jisung.

"A toast! To my two best friends, Soulmates, and other cheesy shit!" Minho laughed while raising his own soju.

"To other cheesy shit!" You and Ji said in unison, toasting and gulping down some soju.

You three continued drinking and laughing and having a blast while the movies played in the background. At some point Minho had put his arms around you and Ji and the two of you were snuggling into him watching the movie. You were pulled out of your focus when you started to hear soft snoring coming from Minho's lap where Jisung's head was resting. You smiled and reached over to softly comb your fingers through his hair. You felt Minho softly chuckle under you and you lifted your head to meet his eyes where he was smiling down fondly at you and Ji.

"You two are so adorable, " he said softly, trying not to wake Jisung. You smiled, and your hazy mind decided that was the moment to open the box you had sealed shut weeks ago.

"You're so pretty Min." You all but whispered the words, but Minho heard you loud and clear. His breath lightly hitched and he raised his hand to stroke your cheek.

"You are so beautiful my little moon bear."

~✨~

Weeks passed and the movie night incident was never spoken of. The shared moment between you and Minho had been something so soft and intimate you were afraid of what you would say if he ever brought it up. But thankfully he never did. So you just went on with your life. Your schedule was about to get busy again anyway so there was plenty to keep it out of your mind… right?

~✨~

You can't get it out of your head. No matter what you do it is all you can think about and it is stressing you out. So you do what you do every time you get stressed.

You bake.

After gathering all the ingredients you snap a picture and send it off to Felix.

Y/nnie🤩🧁: [Photo Attached]

Lixxie🍰🍫: I'm on my way.

Felix knew you really only baked when you were stressed out since you never really had the time but the act made you calm down a bit so when he got the picture of all the baking supplies he must have known that you needed a friend because not even twenty minutes later there you were in your kitchen baking enough brownies to feed a small town.

"Soooo, you gonna tell me what brought this stress baking spree on?" He asked softly like he was coaxing a cat out from under the bed. You almost wanted to laugh.

"What gave me away?" You laughed.

"Well when you are baking just to bake you usually only make enough for the nine of us, this is enough to feed the whole company Y/nnie, so tell me what's going on?" You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and put down your baking tools.

"Lix I don't even know what's going on to be honest. Things with one of my good friends have recently gotten a little…tense? Weird? I don't know. And I don't know if it's just me or if they are feeling it too you know?" Felix is looking at you like he knows exactly what you're talking about and you briefly panic wondering if he can read minds. Then he lets out a sigh and pulls you in for a hug. You melt into his familiar embrace and allow him to hold you while he slowly speaks.

"Things being weird between friends is never fun. In my experience the best way to fix things is through open communication. Just tell this person what you feel and see if they feel the same then go from there." He says while slowly stroking your hair.

"That's the issue Lix, I don't know what I am feeling."

"Ah, well that seems like a good place to start then yeah?"

~✨~

You haven't had time to think about what you and Lix had talked about. Between recording and practicing choreography you barely had time to eat let alone think. So you focused on work. For now.

The next scheduled SKZCode was going to be a haunted house.

Now here's the thing. Haunted houses are objectively not scary. HOWEVER, if someone with you jumps, you tend to jump as well. If someone screams, so do you. So if you are paired with a scaredy cat, you will get scared. And the staff love to make you seem extra cutesy since you are the only girl so of course you get paired with Minho and Jisung.

Jisung is going to get scared. You know in your heart that he is going to scream and he might even cry. Minho on the other hand is going to try and scare you and Ji, and it is going to work. You know this because the three of you have gone to haunted houses together before and that is exactly what happened.

So you resigned yourself to your fate.

~✨~

"Noona, hyung, I am so scared, what if a real monster snuck on set and is hiding with the staff members and it sees us and eats us?" Ji whimpered as he clung onto one of Minho's arms.

"Sungie that's silly, a monster wouldn't eat us here on camera, it would follow us home and eat us there so there was no proof!" Minho snickers as you whack his side.

"Don't scare our poor Ji any more than he already is Min! His poor little heart can't take it!" you hiss at him under your breath. Your slightly shaky voice gives away the fact that you too were getting scared.

"Oh relax y/nnie, Sungie and you are gonna be just fine with me here to protect you." Minho said softly while squeezing you a little more into his side.

Well that was new. He'd usually make fun of you for getting scared and try to rile you up even more. But his tone… it was the same one he had used during the movie night.

That was definitely something you didn't want to think about right now while you were on camera.

You continued through the haunted house, nothing really getting to you, until you opened one room and walked into complete darkness.

Your breath hitched and you clung to Minho a bit tighter. He responded by rubbing soothing circles onto your arm and pulling you a bit closer into his side.

The lights came on and a staff in a costume jumped out and scared you. You and Jisung started screaming and Minho flung himself in front of you. Your eyes widened at the gesture and you looked over to Jisung only to see him looking between you and Minho with a questioning look on his face. This was definitely going to cause a dating scandal if you didn't do something quick, so without skipping a beat you grabbed Jisung and dramatically clung to him. He seemed to get the message and reciprocated. The both of you clinging onto one another while yelling. The whole scene was honestly quite hilarious and adorable.

Minho seemed to come out of it and turned around to see his two best friends clinging onto one another dramatically and cracked a smile before full blown laughing at you two. You and Jisung slowly looked at one another and slowly detangled your limbs, then burst out laughing.

With the tension dissipated you all went through the rest of the haunted house without any further incidents.

Yet Minho's tone rang in your ears, reminding you of what he said last time

"You are so beautiful my little moon bear."

~✨~

The next SKZCode was coming up and the group had been gushing about it the whole time. A camping trip! You would get to play games with the guys, eat delicious food, and even go fishing! The catch? You would all be sleeping on the floor in the same room. Normally this would be no problem. You would cuddle up with Jisung and Minho and all would be good. Now though?

You decided to finally listen to Felix and figure out what you were feeling by laying out some facts.

Fact one: You think Minho is pretty, like unfairly pretty, but then again so does everyone else. So that could mean anything really.

Fact two: Minho acted really weird when you went to the movies with Seungmin, something you do very frequently. You have no clue what that was.

Fact three: When Minho whispered something dirty in your ear it caused something to flutter in you. He was just joking and trying to get your heart racing for the game so surely it meant nothing right?

Fact four: You called Minho pretty and he called you beautiful. You had said things like that before but never whispered and inches from each other's faces… That one… you don't know what to do with.

Fact five: You are clueless as to what all this means.

Cool. Well that was a waste of time.

~✨~

You and the boys piled out of the cars and started to get everything ready for the night. You split off into groups, people needed to go shopping, people needed to cook, people decided to do each other's hair? Not really sure what that has to do with camping but you, Minho, and Jisung gave each other silly little hairdos and everything was great. The day absolutely flew by and you were doing so great not thinking about the way Minho makes you feel.

Finally you were all seated around the campfire. Jisung got saddled with cooking everyone breakfast in the morning and even though he is your best friend you do not want to wake up early so you start to devise a plan to get out of it.

Chan peels Jisung a sweet potato to appeal to him. Damn that's hard to top. You are scrambling to come up with something to top that and miss what is being said until you hear Minho's voice.

"I won't be fake either. I love you."

Everyone burst out laughing at Minho's proclamation to Jisung but you feel… weird. You are looking between Jisung and Minho and there's this pit in your stomach, almost like…

No

No fucking way.

No way are you jealous right now.

Jisung and Minho are best friends just like you and Minho and you and Ji are… and yet…

Shit.

Everything starts to make sense, the bickering, the playful flirting, the butterflies in your stomach.

You have a huge fucking crush on Lee Minho.

As you come to this realization, you lock eyes with him from across the campfire. His smirk softens, and he gently smiles at you.

Oh fuck, what are you going to do?

~✨~

You all lay down for the night and as usual you are sandwiched between your two boys, not so usual, you are clinging to Ji like your life depends on it and are slowly scooting further from Minho's touch.

He giggles probably thinking you are messing with him and grabs your waist to pull you flush to him.

"Where do you think you're going, little moon bear?" He whispers into your ear.

You almost whimper. Almost. You manage to pull your shit together because you are all still on camera and make a show of grabbing for Jisung in front of you.

"I'm cold! I need Ji's heat or else I'll die in the night!" You say dramatically, trying to play it off. Minho must buy it because he remains silent behind you and the three of you get cozy before eventually falling asleep.

~✨~

You wake up in the morning With Minho's entire body wrapped around you. Jisung is trying to get up so he can go to the store with Chan.

"Noona, I've got to go so I can make you breakfast, promise I'll be back soon." Jisung laughs as you pout at him leaving you and you sigh and grumble. You are still a bit cold so you shimmy around so you are now facing Minho.

He is still asleep, so you allow yourself to look at him. You take in his cute little bunny teeth, the little mole on his nose, and his eyelashes fluttering. Oh, his eyes are open, and he caught you staring.

Well that's fucking embarrassing.

He just smiles and pulls you in a little tighter, looking back at you. His eyes pass from your eyes, to your nose, and down to your lips where he lingers for a moment too long. Then he looks back into your eyes.

"Good morning moon bear." He softly whispers. You feel his breath fan against your face and you try not to let your eyelashes flutter at the action.

"Good morning Min." You whisper back. His eyelashes do flutter and you have to hold yourself back from jumping to any conclusions. For a few moments you just gaze into each other's eyes in silence. Finally he reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek.

"Beautiful." It's the smallest whisper but you are barely an inch from his face so you catch it. Minho adjusts his hand so he is now cupping your cheek and your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

Is he about to kiss you?

"Min." It's a breathless whisper, you're so close to him now you're sure he felt it more than heard it.

"WHO WANTS RAMYEON?!" Jisung's voice wakes everyone up and the moment passes. Minho's eyes close and he seems to be frustrated.

You are dying inside.

Was he about to kiss you?

~✨~

The day passes too quickly. You all eat and play games and everything is totally normal on the surface. You have to be normal because you are being filmed. Minho doesn't act any differently, he certainly doesn't bring up the almost-maybe kiss. You decide that if he wants to talk about it then he will talk to you. So you do what you do best.

You perform for the camera and ignore your stupid feelings.

~✨~

You're full on spiraling at this point. Every time you close your eyes you see Minho gazing into your eyes, about to pull you in.

You shake your head. No, this isn't real. Your silly little crush is making you delusional. Minho wasn't going to kiss you, he just called you beautiful and held your face because… because… well you can't think of another explanation, but there must be one because it has been days and Minho hasn't brought it up and if he wanted to kiss you then surely he would have brought it up… right?

Fuck this.

The next SKZCode is coming up and you can just focus on that and not Minho's sparkling eyes, his plush lips, his little nose mole… Fuck. You are officially down bad.

Well you know what that means.

It's time to do something stupid.

~✨~

"Innie! I need your help!" You shout as you walk into the boys dorm. The brunette pops his head out of his door and looks you up and down.

"Yeah I'd say you definitely do." He says distastefully.

"Damn child who raised you?"

"Definitely not you Noona or I'd be dressing like a Target commercial."

You both burst out laughing at that.

"Fair point, but seriously, I need your opinion on what to wear for the next SKZCode."

"Oooh a fashion emergency? Of course you would come to me! Well come right in Noona, we will fix that god awful outfit you've got on in no time!"

He grabbed your hand and dragged you into the room.

"So are we going for Kawaii like usual or did you want to look like one of the guys? I know this is acrobatics so we are looking more toward athleisure type outfits." I.N. says all of this while digging through his closet looking for the stash of your clothes he hid in there.

"Well I was actually thinking I wanted to look… sexy?…" I.N. froze in his closet when you spoke. "I mean obviously not like crazy sexy or anything I just want to look really good you know? Not like a cute little girl and not boyish either. Does that make sense?" I.N. stood up and slowly turned to look at you with a Cheshire grin on his face.

"Noona. I have been waiting my whole life to hear you say those words."

~✨~

You look hot. Holy fuck you have never looked this good in front of the guys. Even at premieres and shows you've always been kawaii or dudebro to match the guys but this? The crop top Innie puts you in fits you in all the best ways, it's low cut enough to be provocative but not enough to be slutty. The back is cut out and it is the perfect shade for your skin tone. But the pants. My god your ass has never looked more smackable. It's like I.N. knew exactly who your target audience was. Your hair is done up in a cute ponytail with the little strands hanging out the front.

You look like sex on legs.

"Jesus Innie you're a god at this."

"I know, I take payment in food and coffee."

"Innie I'd buy you a five course meal for this shit god damn."

You both started laughing and he reached behind him to grab something.

"The final touch."

~✨~

You walked into the studio and it suddenly got very quiet. All the boys were looking at you with varying expressions.

"So? What do you all think? Didn't I do an amazing job?" I.N. grinned at the rest of the guys who were ranging from outright ogling you to shyly avoiding your gaze.

"Yeah Innie you did great." Chan was the first to speak and after that the compliments kept flowing from everyone except the one person you wanted.

Oh well. Onto phase two.

~✨~

You made sure to get a spot right in front of Minho so he could see the full extent of Innie's 'final touch'. A bow in your hair long enough to basically make a runway to the swell of your ass.

The episode went by pretty fast, you were actually having a lot of fun doing all the poses. You noticed when you did the mermaid pose Minho made a noise, a grunt? Maybe a gasp? Whatever it was you were certain your plan was working. Now all you had to do was actually talk to him about what you felt like Felix had recommended.

Once the episode was over you headed over to Minho.

"Hey, Min, you got a sec?" You put your hands behind your back to maximize the silhouette's effect.

"Actually no, sorry, I've got to get home, lots of stuff to get done. I'll text you later okay?" Minho was avoiding your eyes and shuffling from one foot to the other.

"Oh, okay… I guess I'll talk to you later?" You leaned your head down to catch his eye and when he finally locked eyes with you his gaze was searing and sent a chill down your spine.

"Yeah."

~✨~

Well that was fucking weird and definitely not the reaction you had been hoping for. Mr. Self proclaimed butt hunter didn't even attempt to slap your ass in these phenomenal leggings you wore just for him. You groaned into your pillow and allowed yourself to feel frustrated. Any time you had big feelings like this there was always one thing that helped.

You shot Hyunjin a text and after receiving a confirmation you headed to the art studio.

~✨~

Lo-fi music playing on the speaker, a nice hot cup of coffee sitting next to you, and a medium blank canvas sat in front of you, what more could you want? You let the atmosphere wash over you as you tried to use your frustration to create a work of art.

You have no idea how much time has passed, you never do when you're painting with Hyunjin. You could occasionally hear his soft humming and brush-strokes glide across his canvas.

Time with Hyunjin always seemed to calm you down. Maybe it was the chill playlist he favored for the occasion, maybe it was the smell of coffee in the air, or maybe it was the way he simply existed with you in the moment, not requiring you to engage.

You added the final touches on the canvas and nodded to yourself.

"Hyune?" Hyunjin hummed in response.

"What do you think of this one?" You gestured to the finished piece in front of you. Hyunjin stood up and stretched before coming over to admire your work.

"It feels… lonely. Like you are reaching for something in the distance but it's too far away for you to grasp." You simply hummed in response and Hyunjin laid his head on your shoulder.

"I like it Y/N, it's…" He went silent for a moment before sighing and wrapping his arms around you.

"It's beautiful."

~✨~

Weeks had passed since the failed seduction attempt on your part and Minho had been annoyingly 'busy' so you hadn't really seen him outside of your work schedule. The distance was getting to you and you started to wonder if you had done something wrong. Minho had never gone this long without reaching out to hang out or simply showing up at your apartment in years. You couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding you and it hurt. A lot. That hurt turned to borderline anger when you saw on Ji's story that he and Minho were having a movie night.

Without you.

You checked the group chat to see if you had missed an invite but there hadn't been a message in over a week since Ji had sent you both a cat meme. Maybe Minho noticed your attempt at flirting and decided that ghosting you was better than outright rejection? Even if that was the case the two of you were both close with Ji and not to mention your co-workers, so how could he just cut you out like that? Jisung hadn't even mentioned the movie night and that hurt you too.

Were you losing both your best friends because you had some stupid feelings?

You felt yourself starting to spiral but before you hit the point of no return you took some calming breaths and closed your eyes. You could not break, not now, you had a busy schedule coming up so you focused on that instead.

Thankfully, it was time to film the next SKZCode so at least you got to do something fun. You prepared yourself to get into the Christmas spirit.

~✨~

The staff welcomed you all in and explained the premise of the episode. You were all going to play games and try and win someone over to end up partnered by the end. You immediately thought of MinBear and how much STAY would love to see the two of you end up together before remembering that you and Minho were currently fighting.

Okay maybe not fighting but it's not like you are exactly on speaking terms. The only communication you'd had in weeks was him correcting you in dance practice.

You couldn't go to Ji either, You were mad at him too. Okay mad is maybe an overstatement but you were definitely not happy.

That left the obvious choice.

You decided to set your sights on Felix. You figured the kawaii image you were presenting mixed with his sunshine would be adorable for STAY. To your credit it works pretty well… for about five minutes. You're not sure what exactly happened but one minute you were fake-flirting with Lix, trying to match up with him, the next he is shyly moving away from you and talking to Hyunjin.

You're confused to say the least, that is until you feel soft breaths on your neck.

"Awh are you eating all alone little moon bear? Don't worry, I'll sit with you." You fight the shudders that threaten to run down your spine hearing Minho's voice so close to you after him being so distant for so long.

"Oh, so you're talking to me now huh Min?" You mean to sound angry but it barely masks the hurt in your softly spoken words. You look down at your lap to hide the tears welling up in your eyes.

Minho goes quiet for a moment then gently pulls your face up, angled away from the camera so STAY couldn't see your tear-laden eyes. A small gasp comes from his mouth.

"Jagi…" He softly whispers before hugging you tight to his chest. "Y/N, sweetheart, why are you crying?" He whispers in your hair to shield his lips from the camera.

"It's nothing Min, I'm okay. Let's just keep eating or STAY will worry about us."

"I don't care if STAY worries, my favorite girl is crying and I'm going to comfort her." You pull away a bit at his words to look into his eyes.

"I'm still your favorite girl?" You whisper the question and you hear Minho's small sound of disbelief at your question.

"Of course jagiya, you've always been my favorite girl. Let's talk more after the skit yeah?"

"Okay."

~✨~

Minho makes sure to stick by your side the rest of the shoot. The two of you end up a pair at the end and as you walk out of the room, prepared to head to the recording studio you are surprised when Minho leads you out the door instead.

"Min, where are we going? Channie oppa told us to go to the recording booth after the shoot."

"I texted him and told him that you needed the afternoon off because you weren't feeling well and that I was going to come take care of you. He said it was okay, so I'm taking you home."

"Oh, okay then."

You both remain silent as you approach the company car and Minho opens the door for you and you both slide in. The ride is unusually quiet for the two of you and you are worried that Minho might be mad at you for something and the longer the silence continues, the higher your anxiety spikes.

By the time you reach your apartment you have over-analyzed every interaction the two of you have had over the past few weeks and you have convinced yourself that Minho actually just hates you and is taking you home to break the news in private so none of the cameras catch you crying again.

You are panicking. You can't lose him because of some stupid attraction you may feel. He is one of your best friends and losing him would be devastating.

Once you reach the door of your apartment you are so close to having a panic attack that your hands start shaking as you try to insert your key into the lock. Minho stands and waits while you shakily unlock and open the door. Once you are inside you are frozen in place waiting for the worst.

Then Minho gathers you in his arms and holds you tight.

"It's okay jagi, you're safe here." He whispers as he starts rubbing soothing circles on your back. You don't even realize you are crying again until he lifts your head by your chin and wipes your tears away. You smile softly and Minho returns it.

You are okay. He is not mad at you. Everything is alright.

"Come on sweetheart, let's go cuddle on the couch and watch a shitty rom-com."

You silently nod and he leads you both to the couch. You sit, his arms still wrapped around you as he guides you to rest your head on his chest. You both stay like that as he starts up one of your favorite movies.

You both watch the movie, Minho rubbing soothing circles on your skin while you nuzzle into his warmth. It is quiet for some time until Minho lets out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry I made you worry Y/N, I really was busy and some things came up and I just needed a guys night with Ji, I hope you understand I am not mad at you and you are still my favorite girl." Minho's words made you smile and you sunk further into his embrace.

"It's okay Min, I guess I just felt left out and it messed with me for a minute but I get it. We are good." You looked up into his eyes and in a whisper added:

"Promise."

~✨~

There was an electric feeling in the air. You and the boys were beyond excited for your second world tour. This time you were going to go back to Chan and Felix's home country. The two aussies had spent entirely too much time teaching you and the boys all the important aussie slang you would need and helping you all with your English.

The Maniac tour was set to be your biggest endeavor as a group yet. Minho was drilling the choreo into everyone relentlessly and often spent his free time one-on-one helping each member who asked. Ji was always in the studio with his fellow 3Racha members to ensure everything was perfect. And you? You were spending every free moment you could with Felix trying to perfect your English so you could communicate with the international STAYs.

It was overwhelming but you all pushed yourselves to the limit because you wanted to be amazing for STAY.

Finally the day came and it was time for your first concert.

The lights were blinding and the stadium was so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

It was exhilarating.

The concert went by so fast and you had such a great time with your fellow members.

You were still in Seoul but it all felt new, you couldn't believe you and your boys had made it this far.

The next two shows flew by and your time in Japan was short. You and the boys tried your best to keep filming your logs for the STAYs who couldn't make it to the shows. Everything was amazing.

Finally it was time to head overseas to America. U.S. STAYs were much louder than your STAYs back home. The atmosphere was incredible and you all had the time of your lives performing in the U.S. again. You and the boys tried to speak as much English as you could but it is a hard language for you all so you relied heavily on the aussies for translation help.

In between shows you, Ji, and Min would hole up in one of your hotel rooms and gush about how much fun this all was and how excited you all were to finally go to Australia. You would watch bits of movies before ultimately passing out in a cuddle pile on someone's bed, only to wake up and repeat the next day.

The days flew by and before you knew it it was time to hop on a plane headed to Chan and Felix's home. You all made sure you had time planned to meet their families and have a good time while in the land down under.

When you arrived at the hotel to check in, the staff found out that there was a mistake and only seven rooms had been booked. Someone must have thought Chan and Felix were staying with their families but they simply lived too far from the concert venues. After a very long flight and eager to sleep off your jet lag, everyone was too tired to argue about who would be sharing rooms until Minho spoke up.

"Y/N, Ji, and I have kinda been sharing this whole tour anyway, we may as well just share a room from the get-go if that is okay with everyone else?"

The staff looked bewildered at Minho's suggestion. A girl sharing a room with two boys? That's quite unusual. But the other members were used to you three having slumber parties all the time back home and just shrugged it off insisting that if you were fine with it so were they.

So, you three headed up to your shared room.

~✨~

"Ugh, I could sleep for like a week at this point." Jisung groaned out before promptly falling face-first onto the nearest bed to him.

"Yah! Hannie, you know I like sleeping further from the door, give Y/N that bed and you and I can share the other." Minho glared at the younger boy already getting comfortable in the bed.

"Hyuuuunnnggg I'm already in this one though." Jisung whined out and sank further under the covers.

"Min it's okay, Ji can have that bed and you and I can just share the other. I prefer being close to the window anyway." You said sleepily before heading over to the far bed and setting up your stuff on the nightstand.

"Are you sure Y/nnie? I can kick the lazy quokka out if you'd prefer a bed to yourself."

"I'm sure Min, we all have been sleeping on one bed almost every night of the tour anyway, I'm kind of used to having someone next to me anyway." You shrugged and gathered your sleep clothes.

"I'm gonna go shower real quick, airplanes always make me feel greasy, either of you need to use the bathroom before I go?" You asked the two. Jisung had already passed out and you and Minho just laughed at the sleepy boy before Minho looked up at you.

"No, you're all good. I'll shower after you too so our bed doesn't get gross like Sungie's." You both started laughing and you went to the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

While in the shower you let your thoughts roam. You had been so busy with the tour and Jisung had been stuck with you and Minho the whole time as well so you hadn't had time to think about your maybe-feelings for Minho. Now you were confronted with the fact that while you all were here there would be no escaping to your own room if things got too weird for you.

Not just that but you were sharing a bed with him.

You and Minho had slept in the same bed many times but you were almost always accompanied by Jisung as well. Now it would just be the two of you…

It won't be weird if you don't make it weird.

Right?

~✨~

You finally got out of the shower and changed into your pajamas. After doing your skincare you came out of the bathroom and stopped in place when you looked up and saw a shirtless Minho standing in the middle of the room. His back was facing you and you took a second to admire his strong shoulder muscles down to the dip in his back, just above the hem of his shorts. You could've stood there staring forever but when Minho started to pull down his shorts you made a small noise, something between a whimper and a groan. Minho stiffened and dramatically turned toward you with a hand over his pecs.

"Y/N! Sorry! I didn't hear you come out. I was going to change into my robe before going in after you. Sorry about that. I'll just… bring it with me." The tips of his ears were a fiery red and you're sure you were no better. You could feel yourself flushing and you quickly looked down and nodded as he passed by you and quickly went into the bathroom to shower.

Well that didn't help your situation.

You crawled into bed and tried to calm yourself down but every time you closed your eyes you just saw a shirtless Minho again. You lightly groaned and turned your body away from the bathroom and tried to will yourself to fall asleep before Minho came back so you didn't have to face him.

Of course that didn't work. You had been so tired when you got here but now you were like a live wire and you knew that sleep would not come easily.

When Minho returned from his shower he said nothing as he slowly climbed into the bed next to you. It was quiet for a moment before he broke the silence.

"Sooo… do you want to cuddle?" He said it slowly and quietly and you internally screamed. There is no way you would fall asleep if Minho was touching you… and yet.

"Yeah, that sounds nice." You quietly answered.

Minho scooted closer to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you tightly.

"Is this good?" He whispered. You could feel how close he was when he spoke, his breath tickling your ear.

"Yeah, it's perfect."

You were so fucked.

~✨~

Just as you thought, it took you forever to fall asleep. However, when you woke up you felt completely relaxed, you had somehow gotten the best night's sleep you had had in a very long time. You slowly came to consciousness and the first thing you noticed was a hair on your face tickling your nose. You realized there was some sort of breeze on your face, cracking an eye open and you bit back a squeak at the sight before you.

You had shifted in the night and were now, yet again, face-to-face with a sleeping Minho. His arms were wrapped tightly around you and your legs were tangled. He was beautiful like this. Soft breaths coming out from him as he peacefully slept. You stared at him in wonder and decided that a few more moments of this wouldn't hurt.

After some time passed Minho eventually began to stir. He groaned and hugged you a bit tighter before opening his eyes. You were both quiet, allowing the peaceful moment in an otherwise chaotic few months. You softly smiled and he returned it.

"G'morning jagi." He whispered, trying not to break the peaceful atmosphere the two of you were caught in.

"Good morning sleepyhead." You softly chuckled and he giggled in return, nuzzling slightly closer to you.

"I could get used to this, you know?" He whispered, now inches from your face. You breath hitched at his comment and before you could respond there was a loud banging on your door.

"YAH WAKE UP LAZY BUMS IT'S TIME TO GET READY!" Chan's voice rang out and Minho groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. You heard Jisung yelp from the other bed at Chan's command.

"Time to go." Minho groaned.

~✨~

The next few days were a blur. The Aussie STAYs were crazy. The concerts were so much fun but you were all so exhausted that by the time you got back to the hotel it took all of your energy to shower before crawling back into bed.

You and Minho slept in each other's arms every night.

Once the concerts were over you were all invited to the Bang residence for dinner. All nine of you laughed and ate and bonded with Chan's family. It was amazing and you never wanted it to end, but eventually it was time to go. You and Hannah exchanged numbers, her saying you needed a girl friend being surrounded by the eight loud boys all the time. You laughed and agreed, saving her number immediately.

You would cherish the time you got to spend in Australia forever.

~✨~

The rest of the tour flew by, the nine of you really giving it your all and after months it was finally time to come back home. You were so excited to sleep in your own bed again and get back into your normal crazy schedule.

The first few nights back home were odd. You couldn't fall asleep no matter how tired you were. You assumed it was just the jet lag but after days of bad sleep you were ready to snap.

It was a normal day filled with dance practice and small photoshoots but you were so exhausted you felt like you were going to fall over at any minute. You noticed Minho looked dead tired as well. You wondered if he was having trouble adjusting as well.

After your schedule was done for the day you decided to take a nice walk to try and calm your mind. After walking up and down the Han rivers shore a few times you decided it was time to head home.

You entered your apartment to the sound of the TV on and smiled.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" you jokingly asked the boy on your couch.

"I've been sleeping like shit and decided to see if it's my bed or just me so I came to stay here if that's cool with you?" Minho didn't look away from the TV as he spoke.

"You're always welcome here Min you know that. Wanna order takeout?" You plopped next to him on the couch and leaned on his shoulder.

"Already got your favorite from that one place with the noodles you like." He wrapped an arm around you and turned on yet another shitty rom-com for you two to watch. You let out a hum of approval and sank into his embrace before answering.

"Thanks Min, you're the best."

"Anything for my favorite girl."

You and Minho sat in content silence until the food came. You both ate as much as you could handle before settling back to finish your movie. Once it was over you stretched and yawned, feeling more exhausted than you had in a long time. Minho smiled at you and reached out for your hand.

"You look exhausted, let's head to bed."

You sleepily nodded and took his hand. He led you to your room where you both climbed into bed and he gathered you into his arms just like he had back in Sydney. You both let out a content sigh at the contact and before you knew it you were out.

You slept like the dead. You didn't realize how much you missed Minho's presence until you had it once again. After that there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to share a bed until further notice. You loved the contact but the longer it continued the more your feelings grew.

You think you might be falling in love with your best friend and for the first time you think you might be okay with that.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Town Pizza II

A chance connection between Tessa, a grounded book editor, and Harry, a global music icon, blossoms into a whirlwind romance as they navigate love, adventure, and the challenges of his extraordinary world.

Word Count: 8,164

Part two of two

Content warning: Smut towards the end

Part One

The next morning, Tessa’s alarm jolted her awake far too early for her liking. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains of her tiny Los Angeles apartment, and the buzz of city life was already starting to hum outside her window. She groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and reached for her phone on the nightstand.

A few notifications lit up the screen—emails from work, a reminder to submit edits for a manuscript, and at the bottom, a message from a number she’d saved only hours ago.

Harry: Morning, sunshine. Hope you made it to work without too much trouble. Any interesting children’s stories on your desk today?

Tessa blinked, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She hadn’t expected him to text again so soon.

She quickly typed back: Tessa: Good morning! I made it… barely. The coffee is doing most of the work right now. And yes, I’m editing a story about a mischievous raccoon who thinks he’s a detective.

The reply came almost instantly. Harry: That sounds brilliant. I’d read that. Maybe I’ll have to commission you to write a story about a rockstar who moonlights as a secret agent.

Tessa laughed softly, her tiredness momentarily forgotten. Tessa: I’ll keep that in mind. I might even give him your hair.

Harry: Ah, the hair—always a character of its own.

Shaking her head with amusement, Tessa set the phone aside and got ready for the day. By the time she stepped into her office at the publishing house, she felt a little more awake, though the memory of the previous night lingered like a dream she hadn’t quite left behind.

Her desk was already piled high with manuscripts—illustrated stories waiting to be refined and polished before making their way to bookstores. She settled into her chair, slipping on her glasses, and dove into the day’s work.

But every so often, her phone buzzed with another message.

Harry: Serious question: Raccoon detective—does he wear a hat? Tessa: Obviously. A fedora. And tiny sunglasses. Harry: Perfect. If he ever needs a theme song, let me know.

The banter was easy, flowing back and forth throughout the day, and Tessa found herself looking forward to each new message. Harry was funny, charming, and, much to her surprise, genuinely interested in her world—a world far removed from the glitz and glamour of international tours and sold-out arenas.

By lunchtime, Mitch had joined the conversation, adding his own brand of humor to their exchange. Mitch: Don’t let Harry fool you, Tess. He’ll probably write an entire album about the raccoon. Harry: Only if you play guitar on it. Tessa: And I’ll edit the lyrics. We’re basically a creative dream team now.

As the afternoon wore on, Tessa found herself thinking about Harry’s suggestion from the night before: Why wait?

Why was she waiting? She’d always dreamed of traveling, of exploring beyond the pages of the books she loved. Maybe it was time to stop dreaming and start planning.

Later that evening, as she walked home through the bustling streets of New York, her phone buzzed again.

Harry: Any plans tonight?

Tessa paused for a moment before replying. Tessa: Just the usual—dinner, a book, and maybe some sleep. What about you?

Harry: Sounds cozy. I’m grabbing dinner with some friends, but… if you’re free tomorrow, I’d love to take you to a little café I know, I have a few days off in between shows. Best coffee in the city.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was a simple invitation, nothing extravagant, but the thought of spending more time with him filled her with a quiet excitement.

Tessa: I’d like that. Send me the details.

Harry: Consider it done. Can’t wait.

As she continued her walk, the city lights glowing softly around her, Tessa realized that maybe life wasn’t just about waiting for the right moment. Maybe it was about taking a chance when the opportunity presented itself.

Tessa arrived at the café in Highland Park, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans mingling with the crisp autumn air. The little spot was cozy and quiet, a hidden gem nestled between a boutique bookstore and a flower shop. She spotted Harry right away, sitting at a corner table by the window, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.

"Hey, Tess," he greeted with a warm smile as she slid into the seat across from him. "Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn’t miss it," she replied, shrugging off her coat. "This place is perfect. How’d you find it?"

He grinned. "Wandering. The best things are always found by accident."

The conversation started light—talk of Mitch’s recent adventures, Harry’s upcoming shows, and the best coffee spots around town. But as the minutes passed, Tessa’s thoughts drifted back to their previous conversation about travel. She traced the rim of her coffee cup, the words forming in her mind before she finally spoke.

"I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other day," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "About traveling."

Harry leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Yeah? Any new thoughts?"

Tessa sighed, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "It’s something I’ve always wanted to do—see Europe, visit all those places I’ve read about. But I don’t know how it would work with my job. I mean, editing children’s books isn’t exactly something you can do on the road."

Harry took a sip of his tea, thoughtful. "Maybe not the way you're doing it now. But have you thought about taking a break? Or finding a way to make it work remotely, even for a little while?"

She hesitated. "I’ve considered it. But what if I lose my footing? My job is stable, and I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. Stepping away feels… risky."

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a thoughtful smile. "What if you didn’t have to figure it all out on your own?"

Tessa frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

He set his cup down and met her eyes. "Come with me."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What?"

"Come with me," he repeated, his voice steady and sincere. "I’m heading to Europe soon for the next leg of the tour. We’re hitting some of the most beautiful cities—Paris, Amsterdam, Rome, Vienna. All those places you’ve read about? You could see them. Experience them."

Tessa blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "Harry, that’s… I don’t know. That’s a huge step."

"I know it is," he said gently. "But think about it. You’d get to travel, explore, maybe even find inspiration for your work. And you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have me… and the band. It could be the adventure you’ve been waiting for."

She bit her lip, the idea both thrilling and terrifying. "But my job—"

"Talk to your boss," Harry said. "See if they’d be open to a temporary remote arrangement. If not… well, sometimes taking a leap of faith is exactly what we need. You can always find another job. But experiences like this? They don’t come around every day."

Tessa stared into her coffee, her mind racing. The thought of walking away from the stability of her life in New York was daunting. But the idea of seeing the world, of stepping into the pages of the stories she’d always loved, was exhilarating.

"I don’t know," she murmured. "It’s a lot to think about."

Harry reached across the table, his hand brushing lightly against hers. "I’m not saying you have to decide right now. But just… consider it. Life’s too short to live it all from behind a desk."

She looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were warm, steady, and filled with a quiet confidence that made the impossible seem just a little more within reach.

"Okay," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I’ll think about it."

Harry’s grin widened. "That’s all I ask."

As they finished their coffee and stepped out into the autumn afternoon, Tessa felt the weight of possibility pressing against her. 

After finishing their coffee, Harry and Tessa stepped out of the café and into the crisp autumn air. The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a warm golden light over the streets of Highland Park. Despite the charm of the bustling main roads, Harry tugged his cap a little lower over his face, an instinctive move to avoid unwanted attention.

“Mind if we take the back streets?” he asked, glancing around.

Tessa nodded, adjusting her scarf. “Sure. They’re quieter anyway.”

They strolled side by side down a narrow alleyway lined with ivy-covered fences and quaint brick buildings. The hum of the town faded behind them, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant sound of a busker playing guitar somewhere in the park.

"Do you always have to sneak around like this?" Tessa asked, glancing at him with a mix of curiosity and empathy.

"Not always," Harry replied with a small smile. "But it’s easier when I do. Keeps things simple… or at least, simpler."

She nodded, understanding that simplicity probably wasn’t something Harry often experienced.

For a while, they walked in comfortable silence, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. Tessa was content to let the quiet stretch, but Harry had other ideas.

"So, Tess," he said, breaking the silence. "Tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up? What kind of kid were you?"

Tessa raised an eyebrow at the question. “My childhood? Wow. Not what I expected you to ask.”

"Why not?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I already know the present-day you—the editor, the book lover, the wanderlust dreamer. I’m curious about where it all started."

She smiled softly, eyes drifting to the sidewalk as they walked. “Well… I grew up in a small town, nothing like New York or here. Quiet, suburban, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone.”

"Sounds cozy," Harry said, glancing at her.

"It was," Tessa agreed. "But it could also feel… small. Like there was this whole world out there, and I was stuck in one tiny corner of it."

"Is that when you started reading?" he asked.

She nodded. "Books were my escape. I’d spend hours in the local library, reading about places I’d never been, people I’d never met. I guess that’s where my love for stories came from. They were my way of seeing the world when I couldn’t actually go anywhere."

Harry smiled. "That tracks. And what about the mischievous side? Don’t tell me you were one of those quiet, perfect kids who never got into trouble."

Tessa laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Oh, no. I had my moments. I climbed trees I wasn’t supposed to, sneaked out past bedtime to catch fireflies, and once, I accidentally set off the fire alarm at school during a science experiment."

Harry chuckled, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Now that sounds like a story."

"Not one of my finer moments," she admitted, cheeks flushing slightly. "But it taught me a lesson about following the rules... or at least knowing when to break them."

"Seems like you figured it out just fine," Harry said. "I like that about you—you’ve got this balance between being grounded and knowing when to take a risk."

Tessa glanced at him, his words lingering in the air. "I guess I’m still figuring out when to take the big risks."

"Like traveling," he said knowingly.

"Exactly," she murmured.

They turned a corner, the alley opening up to a quiet park with a single wooden bench beneath an old oak tree. Harry motioned toward it, and they sat, the cool breeze rustling the leaves above them.

"What about you?" Tessa asked, tilting her head to look at him. "What kind of kid were you?"

Harry leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Honestly? A bit of a dreamer too. Always had my head in the clouds. Music was my escape, like books were yours. I’d sit in my room for hours, strumming my guitar, imagining myself on stage in front of thousands of people. It felt impossible back then."

"But you made it happen," Tessa said, admiration in her voice.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "But even now, with all the touring and the shows, I still catch myself dreaming about other things—simple things, like days like this. Good company, a quiet walk, talking about life."

Tessa looked at him, the warmth of his words settling in her chest. For all his fame and success, there was a part of Harry that craved the same simplicity she did.

"Funny how life works," she said softly. "You dream about the world, and I dream about quiet moments. Maybe we’re not so different after all."

"Maybe not," he agreed, his eyes meeting hers. "Maybe we’re both just looking for the right balance."

Tessa smiled, the thought comforting. 

Harry leaned back against the bench, the soft glow of the setting sun catching in his eyes. He watched Tessa for a moment, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You know," he said casually, "it’s been a while since I’ve had company like this—someone who isn’t asking about tour dates or the next album."

Tessa chuckled softly. "I imagine you’re in high demand."

He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on her. "Maybe. But right now, I’m more interested in splitting a bottle of wine with someone who reads about raccoon detectives."

Tessa raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile. "Oh? And where exactly do you propose we split this bottle of wine?"

Harry's smile widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "My place. I have a little apartment here in Los Angeles. Nothing too fancy—just somewhere to crash when I’m in town."

Tessa blinked in surprise. "You have a place in LA? I thought you were always on the road or England."

"I am, mostly," he admitted. "But I like having a home base in the states, even if I’m not there much. It’s quiet, private… and the wine’s pretty good too." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "So, what do you say? No pressure, of course."

For a moment, Tessa considered the offer. The idea of spending more time with Harry, away from the public eye and the noise of the city, was tempting. She hadn’t expected her day to take this turn, but then again, nothing about her time with him had been predictable.

She tilted her head, pretending to think it over. "Well, if the wine is good…"

Harry laughed, standing up and offering her a hand. "I promise it won’t disappoint, it’s my favorite from Italy.."

Tessa took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a small jolt up her arm. As they made their way through the quiet streets of Highland Park, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

"Any other surprises I should know about?" she asked playfully. "Like a private jet or a secret villa in Italy?"

Harry smirked. "No jet. No villa. But… there is a pretty impressive record collection. And a view that’s not too bad."

"Impressive record collection, good wine, and a view?" Tessa teased. "You really know how to sell it."

He glanced at her, his smile softening. "I don’t have to sell it. I’m just glad you’re here."

Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice.

Harry’s apartment in Los Angeles was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place you’d never expect a global superstar to call home. The building was modern but understated, with sleek lines and large windows that offered a glimpse of the city skyline beyond. As they stepped inside, Tessa couldn’t help but admire the space—it was warm and inviting, a blend of vintage charm and contemporary style. Soft lighting bathed the room in a golden glow, and the faint scent of cedar lingered in the air.

The living room was the centerpiece, with a sprawling couch piled with mismatched cushions, a wall of records organized meticulously by artist, and a turntable sitting proudly in the corner. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the city lights twinkling in the distance.

"This is beautiful," Tessa said, stepping further inside.

"Thanks," Harry replied, setting his keys on the counter. "It’s nothing fancy, just a place to unwind when I need a break from everything."

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "This is your version of ‘nothing fancy’? I’m officially rethinking my standards."

He laughed, heading to the kitchen. "Alright, fair enough. Let’s see if the wine lives up to the hype."

Moments later, he returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table. He poured for both of them, the deep crimson liquid catching the light as it filled the glasses.

"To unexpected company," Harry said, raising his glass.

"To unexpected invitations," Tessa replied, clinking her glass against his.

They settled onto the couch, the wine smooth and warm as it swirled over their tongues. The city stretched out before them through the windows, a glittering canvas of possibilities.

"You know," Tessa began, swirling her glass thoughtfully, "I didn’t expect to end up here tonight."

"Neither did I," Harry admitted, leaning back against the cushions. "But I’m glad you did."

For a while, they talked about lighter things—music, books, the quirks of their favorite cities—but as the evening wore on, their conversation deepened.

"Do you ever feel like you’re chasing something, even when you don’t know what it is?" Tessa asked, her voice quiet.

Harry looked at her, his expression thoughtful. "All the time," he said. "When I was younger, I thought music was the answer to everything. I put everything into it, thinking it would make me whole. And don’t get me wrong—I love it. But there are days when I wonder if there’s more. If I’ve missed something while chasing the dream."

Tessa nodded, her gaze dropping to her glass. "I get that. I’ve always chased stability—school, work, having everything lined up perfectly. But now that I have it, I feel like something’s missing. Like I’m standing still while the world moves on without me."

"Maybe it’s not about having everything figured out," Harry said gently. "Maybe it’s about finding what makes you feel alive, even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else."

Tessa looked at him, her chest tightening at the honesty in his words. "What makes you feel alive?"

He hesitated, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Moments like this," he said finally. "When I can just be myself, without the noise or expectations. Sharing a good conversation, connecting with someone. That’s what I live for."

Her breath caught, the sincerity in his voice disarming. She took a sip of her wine, gathering her thoughts. "For me, it’s stories. Whether I’m reading them, writing them, or living them. I think that’s what I want—to live a story worth telling."

"You already are," Harry said, his voice quiet but firm. "You just have to let yourself write the next chapter."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Outside, the city glowed, a reminder of all the possibilities waiting just beyond the glass.

"Thank you," Tessa said softly, her gaze meeting his.

"For what?"

"For this," she replied. "For listening, for… seeing me. It means more than I can say."

Harry smiled, reaching out to clink his glass gently against hers. "To stories worth telling, then."

"To stories worth living," Tessa echoed, her smile growing.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, if we drink any more of this, I might start believing I’m a poet instead of a musician."

Tessa laughed, leaning back against the couch. "You already have the look. All you need is a journal and some brooding."

"Brooding, huh?" he teased. "Do I not seem broody enough for you?" He dramatically furrowed his brows and stared off into the distance, clutching his glass as if pondering the weight of the universe.

She burst into laughter. "Okay, stop. That’s more melodrama than brooding."

Harry set his glass down, laughing along with her. "Fine, maybe brooding’s not my thing. How about this instead? Let’s put on some music."

He got up and walked to the corner where his record player stood, flipping through a stack of vinyl until he pulled out an album. A moment later, the warm crackle of a needle met the grooves, and a soulful melody filled the room.

Harry turned back to her, holding out a hand. "What do you say, Tess? Fancy a little dancing?"

Tessa hesitated for a moment, glancing at her half-empty glass before grinning and placing it on the table. "Why not? We’ve already crossed enough lines tonight."

She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. The song was slow and smooth, with a rhythm that seemed to melt into the warm ambiance of the room. Harry twirled her gently, making her laugh as they moved awkwardly at first, swaying and stepping over each other’s feet.

"You’re terrible at this," she teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

"I’m fantastic at this," he countered with mock indignation, spinning her again for good measure.

The wine had clearly gotten to both of them by the time the second song came on. Their steps grew looser, their laughter louder, until they were full-on dancing in the middle of his living room. Harry twirled dramatically, nearly stumbling into the couch, and Tessa doubled over laughing, clutching his arm to keep him upright.

"Okay, maybe we are a little wasted," he admitted, catching his breath.

"A little?" she said, her voice breathless. "I can barely feel my feet."

He looked down at her, their laughter fading into a quieter moment. The music swelled around them, and for the first time all evening, the world seemed to stand still. Harry’s hands rested lightly on her waist as her fingers grazed his shoulders, the space between them narrowing.

Tessa felt the weight of the moment pressing against her, her heart pounding as she met his gaze. She didn’t know whether it was the wine, the music, or just the magic of the night, but before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and kissed him.

Harry froze for a split second, then kissed her back, his hand moving gently to the back of her neck. The kiss was warm and tentative at first, but it deepened as they found a rhythm, the music fading into the background.

When they finally broke apart, their faces were still close, breaths mingling in the dim light of the room.

"Well," Harry said softly, his voice tinged with amusement. "That was… unexpected."

Tessa’s cheeks flushed, but she managed a smile. "You’re not complaining, are you?"

"Not even a little," he replied, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

They stayed like that for a moment, the wine and the warmth between them creating a heady mix that made the rest of the world feel far away.

Harry leaned back in, his lips brushing against Tessa’s as he kissed her again, this time deeper, slower, as if savoring the moment. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her a little closer, and she felt herself melt into him, the world around them dissolving completely.

Her fingers found their way to his hair, tangling gently as the kiss grew more intense, heat sparking between them. For a moment, everything felt effortless, natural, like they were falling into a rhythm that had been waiting for them all along.

But then Harry stilled, his lips lingering against hers for one last heartbeat before he pulled away. His breathing was uneven, and his hands rested lightly on her arms as he took a small step back.

Tessa blinked, her mind still spinning, as she met his gaze. His eyes were soft, warm, and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place—affection, maybe, or restraint.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a small smile, his thumb brushing lightly against her arm. "I don’t want to keep kissing you like this."

Her brows furrowed, her heart skipping. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled, his smile growing a little sheepish. "I mean… we’re both a little tipsy, maybe more than a little. And this—" He motioned vaguely between them. "I don’t want it to be something we blame on the wine tomorrow. I want to remember it. All of it."

Tessa’s heart softened, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her initial confusion. She nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re kind of a romantic, aren’t you?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his grin returning. "But can you blame me? Some moments are worth waiting for."

She chuckled softly, stepping closer to him, her hand resting lightly against his chest. "You sure know how to say the right thing."

"I mean it, Tess," he said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "You deserve more than some hazy memory of a night like this. And so do I."

She felt a flutter in her chest, her cheeks warming. "Okay," she said softly. "I get it."

"Good," Harry replied, his grin turning playful again. "Because if we’re going to do this, I want to get it right. All of it."

They shared a quiet laugh before he took her hand and led her back to the couch. The record had finished playing, the room now filled with the faint hum of the needle against the vinyl.

"Want to restart the music?" he asked, reaching for the turntable.

Tessa nodded, settling into the cushions. "Only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through the next song."

"Deal," he said, winking as he set the needle back.

And as the soft crackle of the record filled the room once more, they fell into easy conversation, the heat of the moment replaced by a warmth that lingered long into the night.

As the night wore on, Tessa knew it was time to head home. The wine had worn her out, and despite the comfort of Harry’s apartment, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. She called an Uber, and Harry walked her to the door, his hand brushing against hers as they stood under the soft glow of the hallway light.

"Text me when you’re home safe, yeah?" he said, his voice warm and low.

"I will," she promised, smiling up at him.

For a moment, it felt like he might kiss her again, but he simply squeezed her hand gently and stepped back. She turned and walked down the hall, her heart thrumming with every step.

The ride back to her apartment was quiet, the city lights blurring past as she replayed the evening in her mind. By the time she got home, the weight of the night was pressing on her in a way that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. She needed to shake off the haze of wine and emotions, so she headed straight for a hot shower.

The steam enveloped her as the water cascaded over her skin, and she leaned against the tiled wall, letting her thoughts swirl. Harry’s words, his touch, the way he’d looked at her—it all felt like something out of a storybook.

I’m falling for him, she realized, the thought hitting her like a revelation. No, it wasn’t just falling—it felt deeper, more consuming than that. She was insanely in love with him.

She finished her shower, wrapping herself in a plush towel and padding into her room. As she sat on the edge of her bed, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Mitch.

Mitch: Hey, so… Harry told me he invited you to Europe.

Tessa’s eyes widened, her pulse quickening as she read the text.

Mitch: I think you should go. It’s a great opportunity to see the world, and honestly? He’s completely smitten with you.

She stared at the screen, her heart racing. The idea of going to Europe with Harry felt both thrilling and terrifying. It was a chance to step into the life she’d always dreamed about, to finally see the places that had lived in her imagination for so long. And the fact that Harry wanted her there? It sent a jolt of warmth through her chest.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Tessa: He’s smitten with me? Really?

Mitch replied almost immediately.

Mitch: Oh, come on. You’re not that clueless. He’s completely taken with you. Trust me—go to Europe, Tess. You won’t regret it.

She set her phone down, lying back on her bed as her thoughts spiraled. Could she really do it? Leave her job, her routine, her carefully constructed life behind for something so uncertain?

The next morning, Tessa woke up with a mix of nerves and excitement buzzing in her chest. The realization of what she’d decided to do hit her like a jolt of electricity, but instead of dread, she felt an exhilarating sense of freedom.

At work, she spent the first few hours finishing edits on a manuscript before gathering the courage to talk to her boss. She knocked lightly on the office door, and her boss, Linda, looked up from her desk with a warm smile.

"Tessa, come on in. What’s up?"

Tessa stepped inside, her hands clasped in front of her. "Linda, I need to talk to you about something."

Linda gestured to the chair across from her. "That sounds serious. Everything okay?"

Tessa nodded, taking a seat. "It is. It’s just… I’ve been given an opportunity, and I think I need to take it. I’ve decided to travel for a few months. To Europe."

Linda’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing her face. "Wow. That’s a big step."

"It is," Tessa agreed, her voice steady. "And I know it’s sudden, but I’ve always dreamed of seeing the world, and this feels like the right time. I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned here, but I think I need to take this chance."

Linda leaned back in her chair, studying her for a moment before smiling. "You’ve always been one of our best, Tessa. We’ll be sad to see you go, but I understand. Life’s too short to let opportunities like this pass you by."

Tessa’s shoulders relaxed, relief washing over her. "Thank you, Linda. That means a lot."

They spent the next half hour discussing logistics—wrapping up her current projects, transitioning her responsibilities, and setting a tentative end date. When the meeting ended, Tessa felt a bittersweet pang in her chest but also an undeniable sense of excitement.

Back at her desk, she picked up her phone and typed a quick message to Harry.

Tessa: I talked to my boss this morning. I’m officially joining you on the road. Europe, here I come.

The reply came almost instantly.

Harry: That’s amazing! I’m so happy you’re coming. It’s going to be incredible—I promise.

Tessa smiled, her heart pounding with anticipation as the reality of her decision sank in.

Tessa: I hope you’re ready for me to ask a million questions about where we’re going.

Harry: I wouldn’t have it any other way. Get ready, Tess—you’re about to live the story you’ve always dreamed of.

And Harry was right, she was living out the dream she could only think of in her slumbers. 

Two Months Later

The Italian sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets of Verona. Tessa couldn’t stop staring at everything—the terracotta rooftops, the ivy-covered walls, the charm of a place so steeped in history that every corner seemed to whisper a story.

Harry walked beside her, his hand brushing against hers as they weaved through the narrow alleys. He had insisted on taking her to see Juliet’s balcony, one of Verona’s most famous landmarks. It wasn’t a typical tour stop for him, but he knew how much she’d love it.

When they arrived, Tessa stood in awe, her eyes fixed on the iconic stone balcony above. Tourists milled about the courtyard, taking photos and leaving notes on the walls, but for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just her and Harry.

"I can’t believe I’m actually here," she said, her voice soft with wonder. "I’ve read about this place so many times, but seeing it in person… it’s surreal."

Harry grinned, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. "You know, I couldn’t bring a literature lover like you to Italy without making this stop."

She turned to him, her smile wide. "It’s perfect. Thank you."

"Well," he said, tilting his head toward the balcony, "if we’re going to do this, we have to do it right."

Tessa laughed, already catching on. "Oh no. Are you suggesting…?"

"Absolutely," he said, stepping back dramatically and clearing his throat. "Let me channel my inner Romeo." He pointed up at the balcony, raising an eyebrow. "You ready, Juliet?"

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her grin as she walked over to stand beneath the balcony. "Fine, but only if you don’t embarrass me too much."

"No promises," he teased. Then, with theatrical flair, he gestured grandly toward her. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!"

Tessa burst into laughter, her cheeks flushing as a few nearby tourists turned to watch. "You’re ridiculous," she said, shaking her head.

"Ridiculously good at this," he corrected with a wink. "Now it’s your turn, Tess. Up you go!"

Before she could protest, Harry stepped closer, lacing his fingers together to give her a boost. With a mix of laughter and determination, she climbed up onto the balcony, brushing her hands against the cool stone railing.

Once there, she looked down at him, her heart racing—not from the climb, but from the way he was looking at her, his playful grin softening into something more.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay in character. "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

Harry smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name—or just meet me for wine after this, and we’ll call it even."

Tessa couldn’t hold back her laughter, doubling over as a few onlookers chuckled along. "You’re the worst Shakespearean actor I’ve ever seen," she called down.

"And yet," he said, holding his arms out dramatically, "you love it!"

She rested her chin on her hand, looking down at him with a soft smile. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, the playfulness faded into something quieter, more intimate. The noise of the courtyard, the murmur of tourists—it all seemed to fade as they looked at each other.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the breeze.

"For what?" he asked, tilting his head.

"For this. For all of this."

Harry’s smile widened, and he stepped closer, resting his hand against the balcony’s stone base. "You don’t have to thank me, Tess. You make it all worth it."

And as the Italian sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Tessa realized that moments like these were the reason she’d taken the leap. For the stories, the laughter, and the kind of love that made the world feel just a little more magical.

The sun had set over Verona, leaving the sky painted in deep hues of orange and purple as Harry and Tessa walked to a charming little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. It was the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it, with candlelit tables and the scent of fresh basil wafting out into the evening air.

Their dinner was a symphony of delicious food and easy conversation, laughter bubbling up between bites of homemade pasta and sips of rich red wine. Tessa felt at ease, like this wasn’t just dinner—it was a memory she’d cherish forever.

As dessert was served—a decadent tiramisu with two spoons—Harry set his fork down and leaned back slightly. There was a softness in his expression, a quiet tension in his posture that Tessa hadn’t seen before.

"Tess," he said, his voice low and careful, "can I tell you something?"

She paused mid-bite, her heart skipping at the seriousness in his tone. "Of course. What’s on your mind?"

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now. Ever since you joined the tour, really." He paused, meeting her gaze. "I care about you, Tess. A lot. More than I probably should."

Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest.

Harry smiled nervously, his fingers brushing the edge of the table. "You’ve been on my mind constantly. I love how you see the world, how you light up when you talk about stories, how you’ve made this whole experience feel… different. Better. I think I’m falling for you."

For a moment, Tessa was silent, his words settling over her like a warm blanket. Then, with a soft smile, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

"Harry," she said, her voice steady, "I feel the same way."

His eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in his expression.

"I’ve been trying to figure it out too," she continued. "At first, I thought it was just the excitement of being here, but it’s more than that. You make me feel alive, like I’m living a story I didn’t even know I wanted."

Relief washed over his face, and his smile grew. "So… we’re on the same page?"

"Completely," she said, squeezing his hand.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of quiet smiles and meaningful glances, their newfound connection filling the space between them. When they finally left the restaurant, the cobblestone streets of Verona were bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps.

Harry reached for her hand as they walked, his fingers threading through hers effortlessly. They strolled in comfortable silence, the night air cool but invigorating. Around them, the city hummed with life—faint music drifting from open windows, the distant chatter of other late-night wanderers.

"I could get used to this," Harry said, his thumb brushing gently against the back of her hand.

"Me too," Tessa replied, her heart full.

When they reached the entrance of their hotel, Harry paused, turning to face her. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Goodnight, Tess," he said, his voice low and warm.

"Goodnight, Harry," she replied, her cheeks flushed, her heart racing as she stepped inside.

As she walked to her room, she realized that this wasn’t just a night she’d remember—it was the start of something she’d been dreaming of without even realizing it. Something real. Something hers.

Tessa lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling of her hotel room, the events of the evening replaying in her mind on an endless loop. No matter how hard she tried, sleep wouldn’t come. Her heart was still racing, her mind filled with the way Harry had looked at her, the warmth of his hand in hers, and the words he’d spoken over dinner.

She tossed the covers aside, her pulse quickening as a thought took root in her mind. Without letting herself overthink it, she slipped on her robe and padded quietly down the hall, stopping in front of Harry’s door. For a moment, she hesitated, the silence of the hallway pressing in around her.

Just knock, she told herself. Before she could lose her nerve, she rapped lightly on the door.

The sound of movement came from inside, and within seconds, the door swung open. Harry stood there, barefoot and dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her.

"Tess?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep. "Is everything okay?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him—hard. Her sudden movement caught him off guard, and he stumbled back a step, but his arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

The door swung shut behind them as Harry regained his footing. He kissed her back with equal fervor, his hands sliding to her waist as they moved further into the room. Tessa felt the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees, and with a gentle but deliberate push, Harry lowered her onto the mattress.

"Tess," he murmured against her lips, his voice low and hoarse, "are you sure about this?"

She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her hands gripping his shirt to keep him close. "I’ve never been more sure of anything," she whispered, her eyes locked on his.

Tessa couldn't help but feel flustered as Harry pulled away, his eyes searching hers intently. She could see the desire burning in them, mirroring her own. Her heart was racing, her body aching for his touch. As he lowered himself onto the bed beside her, she felt a jolt of anticipation course through her veins.

"I've been thinking about this all night," she confessed in a breathy whisper. "I need you, Harry."

He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You sure do seem ready for me." His hands slipped beneath her robe, tracing delicate patterns on her skin as he skimmed across her stomach and up to cup her breasts through the silk material of her nightgown. Tessa arched into his touch, moaning softly at the sensation. His fingers found the hem of her gown and started to pull it upwards, revealing more of her body with each inch.

As the garment finally rose over her head, Harry gasped softly at the sight of her lace-trimmed bra and matching panties. He leaned forward to kiss along her collarbone before trailing his lips down to tease at the swell of her breast, eliciting a gasp from Tessa as she felt his warm breath against sensitive skin. His tongue circled around her nipple through the fabric, causing shivers to run down her spine.

With one swift movement, he yanked the bra down and off, freeing both breasts to his hungry gaze and eager touch. He cupped them both in his hands, tweaking a nipple between his thumbs and forefingers while his mouth worked on the other, sucking and nipping.

Tessa tossed her head back in pleasure, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Meanwhile, he reached for the button on his jeans, unfastening them with clumsy fingers. Once they were undone, he pushed them down over his hips, along with his boxers, freeing his erection. Tessa's eyes widened as she saw it for the first time—long, thick, and hard. She reached out tentatively to touch it, feeling the heat radiating from the skin. It throbbed in her grasp as she wrapped her hand around it slowly, stroking up and down.

Harry groaned deeply, his eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. "That feels so good," he murmured hoarsely. "Touch me like that again."

Slowly but surely, she began to stroke him more firmly, her other hand moving to brush against his abdomen. He gasped sharply as she teased the sensitive skin just above his belly button before moving lower to touch the base of his shaft. The smell of their arousal filled the air as their bodies swayed together in rhythm with her movements.

As Harry's breath became ragged and he squirmed beneath her touch, Tessa leaned forward to take him into her mouth. She suckled gently at first before deepening the kiss, swirling her tongue around him and taking him all the way inside. Her head bobbed up and down as she savored every inch of him, feeling him grow even larger in her mouth.

Harry gripped her hair tightly in one hand while he ran the other down her back. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You're amazing."

Encouraged by his words, she picked up the pace, bobbing her head faster and harder until she felt him tense and a warm rush of liquid hit the back of her throat. She sat back on her heels, panting heavily, as he came down from his high.

"You're incredible," he repeated, his voice thick with lust. "Now it's my turn, love."

Harry pulled her closer, sliding his hand between their bodies to guide himself towards her entrance. He pushed slowly at first, inching deeper inside as she moaned softly. The feeling was intense but exquisite; every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. As he began to move faster, picking up a steady pace, they both lost themselves in the moment—their breathing ragged, their skin slick with sweat.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and their combined gasps for air as they reached their climax together. Harry's body tensed as he cried out her name before collapsing beside her, their hearts steadily slowing down once more. He nuzzled his face into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as they lay there panting together in post-coital bliss.

Tessa stirred awake, the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of Harry’s hotel room. The sheets were warm and faintly smelled of him, a mix of cedar and something uniquely his. She blinked, her mind slowly catching up to the reality of where she was.

She turned her head to see Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He was already dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped loosely in front of him. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that told her he’d been deep in thought.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Harry turned, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Morning,” he said quietly, offering a small smile.

Tessa pushed herself up against the pillows, clutching the sheet to her chest as a wave of shyness washed over her. The intimacy of the night before still lingered in the air, but there was something serious in his gaze that made her pause.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice tentative.

He nodded, his eyes flicking to the floor before meeting hers again. “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “About what?”

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “About us. About what this means.”

Tessa’s heart tightened, a flicker of uncertainty creeping in. “What are you trying to say?”

He shifted, turning fully to face her. “I care about you, Tess. A lot. But I need you to understand what comes with… being with me.”

She frowned slightly, pulling the sheet tighter around her. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “My life isn’t normal. It’s schedules that don’t make sense, cities that change every week, and stretches of time when I’ll be halfway across the world. There’s paparazzi who will follow us, fans who might not be so kind, and people who will try to turn this into something it’s not. It’s chaotic. It’s unpredictable. And I don’t want you to walk into this without knowing what it’s going to be like.”

Tessa sat in silence for a moment, his words sinking in. She knew what he was saying was true—she’d seen glimpses of it already, the way strangers watched him when they walked through a crowd, the whispers and camera flashes that followed wherever he went. It was a life she’d never experienced, one that felt both thrilling and overwhelming.

“I’m not naïve, Harry,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I know it’s not going to be easy. But…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting his. “I think you’re worth it. This is worth it.”

Harry’s gaze softened, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. “Are you sure? Because once this starts, it’s not something we can take back.”

Tessa leaned forward, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I knew what I was getting into when I came here. I chose this. I chose you.”

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. Then he squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ll do everything I can to make it worth it, Tess. I promise. It’s not always going to be perfect but I’ll try.”

Tessa smiled, her chest warming at his words. “We’ll figure it out together,” she said. “One day at a time.”

He nodded, his smile growing as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “One day at a time.”

[sillysowa]

I’m sorry if this is against your boundaries, please say if it is ☺️ But, would you write a Hobie x reader smut but Hobie is kinda like ‘angry’ with y/n bc he’s jealous he’s spending more time with her friends than Hobie so he just one day pulls them away in the middle of a conversation she’s having with her friends maybe to a random room and locks them both in there’s and it’s just jealous Hobie sex its 100% okay if you aren’t okay with writing this! 🫶

I’m completely chill with this in a non-toxic way which is what you clarified in another ask so here you areee~!

JELLY

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: SUGGESTIVE, SMUT

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

WARNINGS: USE OF Y/N, LIGHT SPANKING, SEMI-PUBLIC SEX, CUMMING ON THIGHS, POSSESSIVENESS AND JEALOUSY, FEM!OC THAT HITS ON READER

AUTHORS NOTE: NOT PROOFREAD

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE’S NOT TOO FOND OF YOUR TOUCHY FRIEND

—

You hadn’t told Hobie that your friends would be at the club tonight.

He doesn’t have a problem with you having friends or hanging out with them—but tonight? Fuck no.

You wore the sexiest dress Hobie had ever seen you in, form fitting and the perfect color on your skin—he was practically glued to you. On the walk to this new hidden nightclub he was dying to go to with you, he had a firm grip on your side, his hand occasionally slipping down to squeeze your ass,

“Look so pretty, doll.” He whispers in your ear, making you blush and shyly tell him,

“Stop~” You giggle. He doesn’t, he lives for that embarrassed look on your face as you press more and more against him while you walk, hugging his whole arm close to you. Any man that walked by eyes you in a predatory way, quickly averting their eyes when Hobie stared back, pulled you closer, or snapped at them with a quick,

“Piss off.”

You near the entrance to the club, a restaurant by day. You both bathe in the purple flown of the LED sign before you stand in the short line, waiting your turn.

The bouncer lets the both of you in, and you walk through the narrow hallway into the lower part of the restaurant. It’s small, it’s beautiful, and it’s packed. You nearly suffocate anywhere you turn. Hobie hokds you close, bringing you onto the dance floor and holding you close,

“This place is nice ain’t it?” He smirks, leaning down so you can hear him over the background sounds. You nod, eyes full of life and energy,

“Yeah! This is gonna be a good night Hobes.” You smile in that silly way that makes his heart squeeze. He dances with you, sensually and smooth. When you dance, you take on a persona of sorts—you’re wild, free and absolutely gorgeous. Hobie doesn’t care if your dancing is objectively good or bad, it’s so you, so to Hobie, it’s beautiful. One specific song gets you revved up, twerking to the beat. Hobie comes close to get behind you when he see’s two manicured hands grab your hips. You both flinch and look at the person, and both of you have vastly different reactions.

“Oh my god, Destiny, Hey! What the fuck, what are you doing here?” You gasp, hugging your best friend as your whole friend group appears behind her.

“It’s just pure coincidence! I had no idea you were here!” She exclaims, excitedly talking with her hands. Hobie walks up behind you, his hand slipping around your waist. He says nothing, just looks down at your friends. The girl closest to you, Destiny he now knows, is actually roughly his height. She looks at him with a slightly challenging look, putting on a smile that makes his skin itch,

“You must be Hobie.” She says, no hand extend, no positive tone, no nothing. Hobie just nods,

“Mhm.”

“Y/N, do you wanna get a drink with me and the girls? I’m buying!” Another one of your friends pipes up, all of the gang excitedly chatting and pulling you with them—some gawking over your outfits and some over your boyfriend. Hobie’s left standing there, completely stunned. He tongues the inside of his cheek, his eyes rolling back and his hand sliding down his face, a chuckle escaping his lips,

“Ohhh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…”

—

“So like…is it big?” One of your friends asks as your mid sip of your cocktail, nearly choking on it.

“F-Fuck, yes, guys—yes, damn.” You giggle, embarrassed by all the comments and questions asked about your boyfriend. Destiny is awfully quiet, stirring her drink and staring at you with starry eyes. She’s sitting very close to you, her leg against yours. She occasionally will drag her hand up and down your thigh, but for now it just rests idly on top. You don’t think too much of it as she’s often very affectionate, but you do think of Hobie and how that might make him feel.

Oh fuck, where’s Hobie?

You suddenly remember that you left your boyfriend all alone on the dance floor. Your stomach dropped thinking of how that might have made him feel, and your hairs stood up as you thought about what he might do—all jealous. You had never seen Hobie like that, the idea made your thighs squeeze together and tense.

“Nervous?” Destiny asks, her satin voice derailing your train of thought. You notice all the other girls are talking amongst themselves and now Destiny’s full attention is on you,

“About?” You ask, expression innocent and confused. Before she can speak you notice her gaze travel up, smacking her lips after applying her lipgloss and never looking away. You go to turn, but a large and cold hand comes down into your shoulder—Hobie.

“There you are. Havin’ fun with your little friend?” Hobie asks, his voice husky and deep. You shudder, your eyes flickering down to where Destiny’s hand rests on your thigh, softly rubbing the skin there. She doesn’t stop, just holds eye contact with Hobie.

You feel incredibly anxious—caught in between some kind of cat fight between your best friend that obviously has some feelings for you that you weren’t aware of and your jealous boyfriend who looks about ready to jump her.

Instead, Hobie calm and collected grabs your hand and gently helps you up off the bar stool, leading you to the bathroom. Destiny smirks,

“Nice meeting you, Hobart.” She says with mock interest.

“The pleasures all mine.” Hobie quips, not even sparing her another glance as he drags you through the crowd. Your friends at the bar all went silent to watch the show, whispering the moment you were both out of earshot. Hobie opens the one stall restroom, both of you entering as he kick the door shut behind you, locking it without even turning around and instantly, he was all over you. He scooped you up, your ankles around his back as he kissed you all over your neck and but your ear, whispering right into your soul,

“You’re gonna tell me exactly who the fuck that Destiny bird is back there because that was no friendly touching going on.” He grunts, slapping your ass and making you yelp. Hobie sets you down, bending you over the counter and pulling you up by your neck, your back flush against him. You see yourself in the mirror, and you see Hobie. The low lighting in the purple LED lit bathroom makes him look so fucking good—he’s deep gaze in the mirror, his veiny hand over your neck like a necklace and his large frame towering over yours.

“I-I swear I didn’t know it was like that Hobie. She’s always been just a friend.” You admit. It’s the truth, and Hobie believes you. He knows you’d never cheat on him, but God did the idea piss him off. It got under his skin like nothing else. He grunted, his hand sliding up your exposed thigh,

“No one else gets to touch you like this, I thought you knew that.” He says with a sympathetic tone, sighing,

“I guess I have to remind you, hm? Is that how you want it, love?” He smiles, his voice dark and deep. It sends a surge of desire to your pussy, clenching and throbbing. You whimper as his hand trails up and cups your pussy, his large hand on your back and bending you over again. Hobie webs your hands together behind your back, securing them after he asks,

“What’s your color, Y/N?”

“Green…so fucking green.” You murmur, almost positive you’re dripping with arousal by now.

Hobie laughs gently, pulling your dress up to expose your bare ass. He smooths his hands over it, gently caressing. You relax into his touch, getting too comfortable because he soon slaps your ass, causing you to gasp and cry out,

“C’mon, louder f’me love.” He shushes you, kissing right where he spanked you, before slapping the other cheek, reveling in the pretty noises you make.

He spreads your legs, leaning in and burying his face in between your folds. You gasp and cry out,

“Hobie! Hobie ah~!” Your thighs shake around his head as his tongue darts out, lapping up your arousal. Hobie groans at your taste, sucking your pussy and bobbing his head. He can’t get enough of your cunt, worshipping it with his face. He sucks your clit, sliding two fingers into your hole and curling them just the way you like. He’s doing everything in his power to get you as riled up as possible—and it’s working. The small bathroom is filled with the sounds of your pleasure, and you tremble at his tongue,

“Oh~ Hobie, i’m close~” You whimper, his tongue wet and warm on your pulsing clit. He kitten licks you a few more times before completely stopping, pulling away and standing up. You look fucked out already, too needy to even stand up. Hobie smirks at the disappointed look on your face and the way you clench your thighs together.

He’s never edged you before.

“You’re that mad Hobie?” You groan, whimpering and crying because of how much you want to cum. Hobie just sees it as laughable, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down far enough to free his painfully hard cock. He rubs it against you, graining and throwing his head back. You’re both a horny out of your minds, and you’re loud as fuck—everyone even remotely near the bathroom can hear the exact moment that Hobie finally puts it in.

“Oh fuck! Faster, Hobie! Ah~!” You whine and tremble. He’s not holding back, his pace fast and unrelenting. With every drag of him inside you he grunts and hisses. His long fingers trail around your neck and squeeze it just right, pulling you up against him and whispering in your ear,

“Fuck, say that again, baby, say my name. Scream it f’me.” He groans, his hands moving down to cup your breasts. The sound of skin slapping rings like a symphony in your ears, and tears prick in your eyes from the stimulation.

Hobie’s loud and vocal, just the way you like it, and he smirked at every whimper he was able to draw out of you. Your fingers gripped the porcelain sink, your eyes clamped shut—you knew if you looked at Hobie it would be game over and you’d cum instantly. He has this crazed look in his eyes that you’ve never seen, you think it’s the jealousy pumping straight to his cock.

“Open your fucking eyes, Y/N.” He groans, fucking into you impossibly faster. You feel your pussy clench around his Hobie’s cock, and clearly he feels it too, pulling your hips back and grinding them against him. He fucks you with calculated thrusts, hungry for your orgasm,

“Come on love, no one else can fuck you this good yeah?”

“N-no, Hobie!” You moan loudly. His length, all warm soaked, pumps inside you, bringing you right to your orgasm. The sounds you both make are downright sinful and you feel your eyes roll so far back that you sweat you saw your brain.

“S-Shit…Come on, we’re taking this back to mine.” Hobie speaks right into the shell of your ear, his voice an octave lower than the usual and his cock twitching as he pulls out of you, quietly whimpering from the friction. He groans, his pre-cum dripping over your thighs and legs and down to your heels.

“O-Oh, God…Hobie…you’re so messy.” You moan with a slight giggle, the sight and feeling driving you insane. Hobie takes your hand and pulls your up, leading you out of the restroom. You both weave your way through the crowd and you’re positive there’s no way you didn’t smear his cum on some club-goers. You near the exit and lo and behold, Destiny’s there. She’s holding your purse that you had forgotten. When she sees you, shes smiling at first, but the moment she notices the state of you and the semen coating your skin her lips curl in disgust. She hands you your purse and eyes Hobie in disgust, saying nothing. Hobie just chuckles, waving his large hand at her,

“See ya later, ninny.” He spits with a sense of pride. He’s fucked you up this much and he’s not even done with you, plus he got to piss off your touchy friend—it’s a god damn win-win. And holy shit is he going to wreck you when you’re back home. He can barely wait, Hobie grabbing your waist and slinging up into the sky with you,

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, love~”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara