#three more left… i spent all week on the one i have in. seven hours. AND I STILL HAVENT MEMORISED EVERYTHING

[littencloud9]

i should drop out

[dollfacefantasy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL PT.2 ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: you, jason, and dick have grown closer in the time since their little competition. now that dick has been officially added to your case, new feelings crop up, and the three of you try to figure out what the next month together will really mean.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (all receiving), fingering, threesome, nightmare, mentions of past trauma + violence, daddy issues

wc: 11.1k

a/n: hii everyone. sorry this took me so long. i'm still not sure how i feel about it, but i'm happy to finally have it out. bear with me because this chapter is leading into the rest of the story, and this will be my first multi-chapter fic. as of now, i have seven parts outlined. all that i ask is that you guys not pressure me between chapters cause that makes me feel really burnt out lol. they'll be out when they're out i promise. anyways reblogs + comments always appreciated <3

part 1

Just as he had one week ago, Dick currently stood in the small elevator cabin watching the numbers above the door light up from left to right. With his car keys in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other, he waited for the now-familiar chime of arrival to ding.

It came only moments later. This trip felt much shorter than the first. He wasn’t buzzing with anticipation or running scenarios through his mind to prepare for what lie ahead. This time around, he knew what waited for him inside the apartment, and it wasn’t anything that caused him anxiety.

The sleek exit parted and allowed him into the penthouse. His keys jingled as he walked through the entrance hall to the double doors at the end. They were open now. From the living room, he could hear some grunting, Jason, and some laughter, you.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You two had been going at it when he woke up this morning, and after he joined in, for a couple hours more. He couldn’t even really be irritated that you were still doing it while he was gone. Instead, he just wondered about what kind of super stamina the both of you possessed that made it possible to be rubbing up against each other all this time later.

Though, it wasn’t like this came as a surprise to him. Since the morning of the little competition last weekend, you and Jason fucked like you used to fight. All the time you spent glaring at him and stamping your feet, now found you with your eyes rolled back as you bounced on his cock. Your pouty huffs morphed into giggly smiles and pitchy moans. And Jason’s tense demeanor had melted into the more casual one Dick was familiar with.

This seemed like the best case scenario. Compared to other jobs, this one came closer to being a vacation. Presented with this situation out of context, it would honestly have seemed more like a fever dream to Dick than anything that could have been real. Sharing a girl with Jason wasn’t something he ever really planned on, but it just kind of fell into place here. There weren’t any rules or schedules. The three of you just took it moment by moment, and so far, that worked.

He had no complaints. He still got plenty of time with you too, and he no longer had to play mediator 24/7. It was a bit amusing, how simple the solution to all Jason’s strife really turned out to be. If only he had started with this, maybe he could have saved himself that first week’s worth of headaches.

Dick entered the living room, expecting to catch you bent over the back of the sofa or spread out across the dining table, but he saw no such thing. In fact, he didn’t see you or Jason at all. He almost paused. A quick bolt of worry shot through him. Realistically, he knew the two of you were fine. Jason was more than capable, and he heard your laughter. But after years of protection orders, he still hadn’t found a way to suppress that instinct to find something wrong.

It was only seconds later he spotted you over on the other side of the room beyond the end of the couch. Your head popped up and down into his line of sight. Relief coursed through him in a rush. Crossing the wooden floor, he walked a few paces closer to see what was happening.

And he did find you on top of Jason, just not in the way he anticipated. Instead, you were parked on the younger man’s back while his body rose and fell in a set of push-ups. A grunt slipped from his lips with every flex of his biceps. From behind, you played with his hair. He’d been going at this a while if the sweat trickling down his temple and staining the collar of his t-shirt were any indicators.

“Hey, you two. Whenever you feel like getting off the floor, I brought your food,” Dick said, raising the plastic bag and giving it a light shake.

Your head zipped in his direction, eyes sparkling impossibly brighter at the mention of your dinner’s arrival. You hopped up off the muscular back supporting you. Despite wearing a cute, pink workout set, not a drop of sweat coated your skin.

Jason, meanwhile, rolled over with a quiet groan. He ran a hand over his face to wipe some of the perspiration away. “Be there in a second.”

You pranced up to Dick and wrapped him an excited hug. After nuzzling into his chest for a second, you tilted your head upwards.

“Did you get the extra rangoons?” you asked, batting your lashes at him as if there was any way he could have forgotten your special request that you’d repeated at least ten times before he left.

“Of course. Think I would’ve left the car keys behind before driving away without your rangoons,” he teased.

With a small cheer, you swiped the bag from his hand and headed in the direction of the kitchen to deal out the food.

“Wow, not even a thank you?” Dick called after you while trailing behind.

“Thank you, Dick!” you chirped.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, coming up beside you at the marble countertop. Red containers appeared one by one across the sleek surface as you unloaded them from the bag. Leaning in, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheekbone. “Bodyguards, workout partners, takeout delivery, and now teaching you manners? You got us working a tall order here, babe,” he murmured.

“I didn’t ask for all that. I think you guys just like doing extra stuff for me cause you know I make it worth your while,” you shrugged with a little smirk on your face as you placed the last box of noodles on the island.

Your haughty display was fast interrupted though as two thick arms snuck around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You squealed as Jason twisted around and placed you out of the way of the meals.

“Did I hear you say you don’t ask for any of that stuff? What were you doing earlier then?” he mocked as he stepped up to the counter and popped open a small container.

“Hey!” you pouted, trying to shove him over so you could have access to all the food again. Your feet slid on the smooth floor as you floundered against him. It took Jason literally no effort to resist your pushing. His large frame did the job all on its own. “I didn’t ask you for anything. You just wanted me on top of you.”

“Mhm, sure. I must have imagined every time you said ‘Jason, what are you doing?’ ‘Jason, I’m bored,’ ‘Jason, let me help,’” Jason imitated before shoveling a forkful of garlic-glazed beef into his mouth

You huffed and circled around to the other side of the counter to grab your bag of rangoons. “Whatever. I still didn’t ask you for anything,” you grumbled.

“Did you really need to when you took the initiative and just climbed on my back?” he mocked.

You scoffed, but both of them could see hints of a smile pulling at your lips. Since you’d become closer to them, winning or losing a minor argument didn’t have an effect on your mood. It was the mere attention that got you going.

In the midst of your back and forth, Dick grabbed the now-empty takeout bag. The plastic crinkled as he crumpled it between his hands on the way to the trash.

Jason glanced over at him. “How’d the meeting go?” he asked, playfulness fading from his expression as work became the topic of conversation.

“Good,” he nodded, reaching for a small box of his own, “We’re all set. We’ll both be assigned here for the remaining four weeks.”

“You managed to convince the old man she needs two people on babysitting duty? How’d you pull that off?” Jason asked with a raised brow.

“You’ll really both get to stay here?” you asked from your side of the island. Your eyes gleamed with hope rather than excitement, as if you still couldn’t believe it was true.

Dick answered you first with another nod before responding to Jason. “I just explained that given her eventful social life and… willful temperament, it would be more convenient on our end to have two people on her case.”

“And he believed you? He didn’t get suspicious?” you checked.

“I think he bought it. He really didn’t ask anything that gave the impression he thought something was off,” he reassured. 

To his relief, you, like your father, didn’t question his vague statements either. If you did, he’d have to figure out how to dance around the exact details of the conversation. He wasn’t really eager to rehash how your own flesh and blood spoke about you.

He thought before arriving at the Senator elect’s office that this would be an uphill battle. Those who didn’t want to use the word controlling would describe your father as protective, but no one would call the man stupid. He knew the reality of this situation just as well as Dick and Jason. There was no party in this arrangement who believed you were in real danger. So why on Earth would he agree that you needed two full-time guards when the one you already had barely did enough to justify his presence?

But the silver-haired man greeted Dick with an election-winning smile and firm handshake. He nodded along to each piece of what he said about you, as if he was absorbing every word like it was law. And when Dick reached the part about your aforementioned attitude and packed schedule, it went off without a hitch.

He eased into it, starting tentatively and bracing for pushback. “She’s adjusting now. Her and my partner are getting along, and we haven’t had any other issues since those first couple days, which is normal. Everyone takes a bit to get used to a second shadow,” he said in an attempt to keep things light. “I was only thinking she might benefit from having a detail of two since she has a few events to attend over the next few weeks and she can be… very set in her ways.”

Your father chuckled while leaning back in his leather chair. “Oh, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know how she can be. I love my daughter, but there’s a reason she doesn’t live with me anymore.”

Dick blinked in response at first. Logic would point to the fact that you were an adult aged into her twenties as a potential reason you might live alone. However, he figured that defending you would have aroused suspicion, so he kept his mouth shut, smirking and nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, uh… she’s something else.”

Your father nodded with a knowing laugh. “She knows how to bitch and moan till she gets exactly what she wants better than just about anyone. Think she learned it from her mother,” he sighed in a way that almost sounded fond. “You’re the expert, so if you think you need two guys to deal with her, have at it. You won’t hear any complaints out of me.”

Two guys to deal with her. Have at it.

If only he knew.

You pulled him out of the recollection with a bright smile. “Oh my gosh, this is great!” you cheered. “This is like the nicest thing he’s ever done for me. Not that he knows it. If he did, he probably woulda said no.”

Jason moved on too, going right along with your happy mood. “Great, huh? This the same girl who was doing everything she could to get me out of here just last week?”

“Yes. You’re the one who’s different. You’re someone I actually like having around now. Kinda,” you responded with a coy eyes.

For whatever reason, Dick just couldn’t share the same playful attitude. This was probably the one time in their lives that Jason had him beat on the front of being pleasant. He couldn’t pin down the exact cause, but seeing you now, with your sweet little smiles and muffled laughs after hearing someone who was supposed to protect you paint you as nothing more than an airhead, dug a dent of sadness into his normal nonchalant temperament. He knew your father wasn’t winning any awards for his parenting. However, bearing witness to his casual dismissal struck deeper than he expected.

But you and Jason continued to banter back and forth without a care in the world, so he tried to appear lighthearted for the remainder of dinner.

The three of you talked and ate in the way that had become routine after only a week. Things weren’t tense and argumentative anymore. Now that frustrations had been dealt with, it was easy to riff with one another about music you liked or movies you hated. They’d tell you the occasional story about an old case while you divulged past drama.

After the supply of food across the counter began to dwindle, the three of you worked in tandem to clear away the trash and put away any leftovers. With their help, the surface was clear in no time. You leaned back against the island, your palms flat on the smooth surface with your shoulders angled outwards.

“So…” you started, mischief swirling in your eyes as you looked between them. “What do you guys wanna do now?”

It was no secret what you were after. Your stance gave the two of them a nice view of your cleavage in that tight workout top. And how you looked between them through your lashes left no question about what kind of activities you were hoping would come next.

Jason shook his head. His face held a similar sense of trouble, only it lacked the lustful charge that motivated your own. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m gonna take a quick shower before anything else,” he said, already stepping in the direction of the stairs.

A scoff came from your lips. “What? No fun,” you said and started after him. “At least let us join…”

You reached out to touch his bicep, but Jason’s larger hand grabbed your wrist, preventing you.

“Your shower’s big but not enough for three people,” he said. “Plus, you got a bad case of wandering hands, princess. I want a quick shower. If I let you come with me, we’ll be in there till we’re both waterlogged .”

“But-” you started, your voice already getting a tad whiny.

He clicked his tongue at you, hushing you like an owner would do to their pet’s whines. “You’ve been with me all day. I’m sure Dick can take care of you for a little bit,” he said.

It was a gentle rebuff, but it was sincere. You tried one last attempt at pouting to no avail. He let go of your arm and headed off.

Your sad puffy lips tightened into a more resigned line. You were clearly intent on remaining unaffected. Only a beat passed before you turned and pranced over to Dick.

“He’s no fun,” you said as you snuck your arms around his waist for a hug.

You could be so touchy, but that wasn’t a problem for him. One of his arms slung across your shoulders while his other hand rubbed the curved space just above your ass.

“Sorry you have to stick with your second choice,” he said with a small pinch to your waist.

He meant it as a joke and nothing more. Even though you had been a bit clingier to Jason as of late, he felt no jealousy over it. It was understandable, chasing after the one who made a chase necessary. But if your face was any indication, the teasing nature of the words didn’t fully come across.

You tilted your head upwards, looking at him with a hint of real concern woven into your furrowed brows.

“You’re not my second choice,” you corrected. “I don’t have a favorite or anything. I like both you guys equally. I just know you’ll hang out with me if I want, so I don’t have to ask.” 

Your arms curled around him tighter like a pair of hungry vipers. You put your head against his chest again, right over his heart. His hand continued its gentle motions on your back while he looked down at you. He was content to leave your explanation as it was, but he could feel the unsaid words prodding at you, almost nudging at him by extension.

“I was just joking, babe. Promise,” he said and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

You glanced up at him once more. “…I just don’t want you guys to like… feel like it’s a competition or anything. I like both of you a lot, and I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” he reassured without thinking about it. You seemed oddly vulnerable about this, and after earlier, he didn’t want you to have any reason to feel insecure with them. He pressed you right up against him and squeezed your shoulder. “I was just making a stupid joke. If I had a real problem, I wouldn’t be holding you like this, alright?” He smiled a little to further his point.

“Alright…” you said, nodding against his chest.

He pecked your forehead as if to punctuate the words. “Good. No more worrying about anything like that. Let’s go find something to do while he’s showering. I’m sure when he’s done he’ll be sniffing around you again.”

You smiled back at that. Rising onto your tiptoes, you stole a quick kiss from him before dropping your hand to grab his and pull him in the direction of the stairs.

“Oh my goshhhh. He’s taking FOREVER in there,” you called out, saying the last bit loud enough so that it’d be audible through the bathroom door.

For someone who claimed they wanted a “quick” shower, Jason was taking his sweet time in your bathroom. At least by your standards anyways.

Your bedroom ended up being the place for you and Dick to hang out while waiting for the third member of your trio. You preferred it for obvious reasons, but clearly so did Jason since he chose to freshen up in the ensuite rather than the bathroom down the hall.

Dick didn’t mind it either. It was the largest of the three bedrooms. The windows had the best view, showing off how the nearby river twinkled under the sunset. And at night, anyone inside got a good look at the sparkling skyline. The bed was the softest and the biggest, but best of all, it was totally yours.

Objectively, the other two were comfortable, but in here, everything smelled like you. Every surface was your favorite color. He could almost imagine you picking out each fine detail. Stepping into this room felt like stepping into a little world of your creation.

His eyes drifted around it now. After the conversation with your father earlier, he could almost see it in a new light. Everything from the elegant curtains to your glamorous vanity in the corner said you didn’t pay for it on your own. He wondered if you had to “bitch and moan” to get it the way you wanted. Or maybe you picked things based on what you thought would be acceptable. Or perhaps because it was something that brought you joy, he wasn’t involved at all.

A little huff from you brought him out of his thoughts.

“What’s he doing in there? Shaving his legs?” you grumbled, sinking back into the mountain of plush pillows behind your head. You crossed your arms and kept your eyes on the TV ahead. It played a random episode of one of your favorite shows, just something meant to be background noise.

Dick chuckled at your persistent impatience and snuck an arm around your shoulders. “You know, I doubt letting him hear how riled up waiting makes you is going to convince him to go faster. As much as you’ve gotten him to soften up, he still likes to annoy you,” he teased.

He kept you tucked to his side, his fingers running up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. You had changed out of your tight workout clothes in favor of something looser to relax in. While not as form fitting, the tiny pajamas you chose left just as much of you exposed to his eyes. His digits danced with the hem of your shorts every time they brushed the silky fabric. 

“I bet he’s jerking off in there,” you said suddenly, ignoring Dick’s statement completely. You glanced at him and then back at the bathroom door. Your eyes bore into the white wood like the mere possibility had insulted you personally.

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think he’s wasting time with his hand when you’re out here,” he said.

“Maybe… Or he’s doing it just to spite me,” you said, feigned accusation still present in your words.

Dick’s gaze lingered on you even after you’d settled into reluctant patience again. You met his stare with a questioning look. “What?” you asked.

He blinked, batting those lashes across his pretty blue irises. “What?” he said back.

Narrowing your eyes, you poked his cheek. “You’re being weird. You’re all quiet and staring… It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe I was just looking at how cute you are right now, all puffed up cause you can’t be patient,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into him a bit more, as if he could provide relief from getting flustered. “Nuh uh. I look cute all the time, so that’s not it,” you said. “You just look like something’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine,” he reassured you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, clearly not satisfied. Then it was as if two little wires connected in your head. “It’s nothing about earlier, is it? My dad didn’t tell you something stupid or embarrassing and scare you off, did he?”

He shook his head with a breathy husk of a laugh. “No, nothing like that,” he denied. With how close you were to hitting the mark, he could only wonder how long ago it happened before.

“Ok... just… You know you could tell me if something was wrong. Even if it wasn’t about work or whatever. I know we’re not like friends… and we haven’t known each other that long. But you could always talk to me about real stuff if you ever needed to,” you offered.

“I know that. But I swear, nothing’s up, alright? Do you ever have one of those days where you feel more stuck in your head than usual? I think it’s just one of those,” he said with a kind smile.

You nodded, willing yourself to accept the answer. “Jason must be having one of those too. He’s been gone for like forever and a half.”

“He probably just needs a moment of peace. You are pretty insatiable, and you’ve been all over him all day, climbing on his back and grabbing his arm,” he murmured with a couple playful squeezes to your own side and arm.

Your body twitched and squirmed in response to the little grabs. The sight drew a huffed laugh from him. He’d never met someone as responsive as you. Your body would light up from a few of the most simple touches.

“I’m not worse than you guys. You both are ready to go like all the time,” you said and slid your hand into his lap, trying to find a bulge.

“There’s a difference between being ready to go and being the one who instigates,” he said, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand onto his abs instead.

You didn’t resist the adjustment. Your fingers traced the rigid muscles in his stomach. You’d felt them so many times already, seen them just as much, but they still brought you a sense of wonder. Both of their bodies did. Before them, you had limited experience, and none of it took place with people who resembled divine beings so closely.

He chuckled at the look in your eyes. “You’re too easy, baby.”

Your cheeks heated up. You tried pulling your arm back to shove his head, but he kept it right where it was.

“It’s ok. You know Jay and I think it’s cute,” he said, continuing to gently mock.

He pecked your cheek, smugness found in his every feature. Leaning in closer, he laid a few soft kisses on your throat. Your breath hitched before you tilted your head to allow him more room. The near-instant compliance with his touch had him grinning against your neck. Even while being stubborn, you wouldn’t deny yourself any attention. And to be honest, he couldn’t see himself ever in a situation where he’d withhold it from you.

He took a deep breath, letting his lungs fill with your air. His arms tightened as his mouth parted and closed against your sensitive skin. The tip of his tongue swirled around your pulse point in the way he had come to learn you liked. Your hand pressed down on his abs a little harder just as a tiny moan escaped you.

In the same way that his body put you in awe, you cast a spell totally your own over him. Being so close felt like willfully submerging himself in aphrodisiacal quicksand. You were so soft and so warm under his hands, your flesh so malleable, practically hypnotizing to grope.

His palms glided over you with reverence. They moved slowly, but with enough pressure to exemplify his growing desire. You writhed under his hands as they smoothed from your back to your hips, over your ass and then down to your thighs.

You allowed your own hand to go lax on his torso, slowly bringing it further South. The place you’d searched for a bulge before rewarded you with one now. You could feel the semi-hard outline under your fingers.

He hissed at the lazy rubs you gave it through his pants. “Always so eager for more,” he mumbled.

While he was still very much wrapped up in the feeling of you, going further tempted him just as much. He dropped one of his hands to the elastic waistband of your shorts and shoved it underneath. His fingers ducked below your panties next with the same precision. The middle one slotted between your puffy lips, seeking out your clit.

Already, you’d started to get a little wet. Dick dragged the pad of his digit through the collecting slick, relishing the clicking sound that came with it. His finger then ventured back to your little bundle of nerves. He gave it a few rubs to which your hips jerked and a whine spilled out of you.

Then the bathroom door opened. Neither one of you had even heard the shower turn off while distracted with each other. Steam poured out into the bedroom. Along with it came Jason. He stepped out, baby pink towel low around his hips, stray beads of water trickling over his scars down to his v-line. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you.

“See? So needy before, but I knew you’d have fun with Dick just fine,” Jason said. He shook his hair like a wet dog before advancing further into your room.

“Shut up. You took too long,” you whimpered, rolling your hips into Dick’s hand.

“You think so? You should’ve said something. I could hear you complaining through the door, but I don’t think it got the point across all the way,” he mocked.

He headed over to the door leading back out into the hall, and suddenly, all traces of your attitude vanished. “Wha- Where are you going?” you asked, turning your head to give him puppy eyes. Dick took advantage of the new angle and attacked your neck with his mouth again.

“Where do you think?” he asked.

Of course, you knew where he was headed - down the walkway and into the guest room with his duffel bag. Most of Dick’s stuff had migrated to your bedroom, but Jason still kept his separate. It really didn’t matter to you though; here or there, you did not want him getting dressed either way.

“Nooooo,” you whined, reaching out towards him with one grabby hand. “Don’t put clothes on.”

He almost laughed at your little display. A smile settled on his lips, and he took a few steps back in the direction of the bed. His pupils scanned over your body again, taking in the way your back arched and your heels slid against the blankets. He watched the outline of Dick’s hand pump beneath your shorts.

“I don’t know… I think Dick’s got you covered, sweetheart. Doesn’t look like you need anyone else,” he taunted, running a hand over your head.

“Need you,” you said, whimpering as Dick rubbed a little star onto your clit. “Need both of you.”

“Greedy,” Jason tutted. But he didn’t stop petting your head.

“Nuh uh,” you denied. Your gaze fell down his body, specifically to his waist where that towel remained tucked around him. It would be so easy to reach out and just…

“No?” he said and cupped your jaw, directing your eyes back to his own. “You don’t think you’re acting spoiled?”

You shook your head before looking down at his stomach again. This time you couldn’t help yourself. You extended your arm, hooking your index and middle finger over the fluffy edge of the towel. It barely took any force to tug it free.

The plush fabric vanished, pooling around his feet. Now, at your eye level, his cock hung, thick and heavy. Your pupils all but morphed into little hearts while staring at it.

He didn’t stop you from grabbing the shaft. Your fingers curled around his length and gave it a gentle tug, beckoning him closer to the mattress. For once, he went along with your desire free of protest. He boosted himself up a bit with one knee on the foamy surface. You continued stroking in time with Dick’s fingers caressing your pussy.

His cock rose to life between your digits. It grew stiffer with every twist of your hand or swipe of your thumb over the tip. You watched in amazement as you did every time, and he watched you. Something deep inside of him went wild for that innocuous fascination that would come over your face in moments like these. Jason was well aware that you weren’t a saint by any means, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to corrupt you.

On the other side of your body, Dick’s head popped up from the crook of your neck, looking up at him with lidded eyes. “Would there even be a point in putting your clothes on when she’s gonna pull ‘em off as soon as you get back?” he joked.

You didn’t even register the little joke or how Jason responded because you were so laser focused on giving him a hand job. Your own movements nearly hypnotized you. With every flick of your wrist, desire gnawed at you, begging you to get more. To take more.

“Can I suck on it?” you asked abruptly.

Jason’s hand paused on your head. He looked down at you again, taking in your dilated pupils and parted lips.

“You want me in your mouth?” he checked.

You nodded.

“Do you think you deserve me in your mouth?” he asked next.

Exasperated, you whined. “Jasonnnnnnn. Come on.” You stuck your lip out to add to your plea.

“Alright, hush,” he said, sweeping his hand around to cup your jaw. “No whining. If you want it so bad, then open up.”

The rough pad of his thumb pressed down on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth into a cute little o. His cock throbbed as you looked up at him so sweetly. Your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, and your lids drooped slightly under the weight of your lust.

He shifted his hips forward to guide his length to your awaiting orifice. You tried to reciprocate, leaning towards him as much as you could while still Dick’s grasp.

“Ah ah, lay your head back and let me give it to you. You’ll crane your neck otherwise,” he grunted.

Shockingly enough, you obeyed without issue. You sunk back in Dick’s direction, allowing the pillow behind you to support your head. Jason continued on. His tip nudged the seam of your lips. Droplets of precum smeared on the plump skin.

It took no force to push into the wet warmth of your mouth. Your saliva coated his length, making the shaft shimmer as it slid in and out of your mouth. He could feel your tongue lazily flicking and laving against him. It was cute. Such small efforts as you laid there for him to use.

Dick continued rubbing your clit beneath your shorts, but as Jason found his rhythm with shallow thrusts, he maneuvered his fingers around to prod at your entrance instead. The slender digits applied some light pressure before slipping inside. A mewl erupted from you around Jason’s cock, but your body didn’t protest or try to shut him out. You remained lax with the sensations, allowing him to fuck two between your pulsing walls with ease.

He kissed underneath your earlobe. “Such a good girl, sweetheart. Just relax for me. We’ll keep you all filled up,” he whispered.

You whimpered at the electricity his hushed voice sent down your spine. It was all so overwhelming in the best way. You were full of them in every sense of the matter. Not only were they inside you, but they claimed each of your senses as well. Dick’s lilted voice crooned in your ear while Jason’s scent clouded your nose. You got the taste of him all over your tongue as every nerve ending on your body lit up for them.

All of it made your head spin. Your eyes drooped, and your jaw got a little lazy. Before you knew it, Jason was squeezing your cheeks to grab your attention.

“Keep it nice and wide for me, little brat. Don’t want your teeth scraping me up,” he teased.

“Sorry…” you tried to say, but with a mouthful of cock, it just came out garbled and incoherent.

However, the need to apologize fled your mind fast. The creeping sensation of release replaced it. It started to simmer as Dick curled his fingers within you, finding that sweet spot you never reached on your own.

Your hips started to quake. You rocked up and down in a desperate search for release. They both chuckled as they saw it, knowing all your signs by now.

“Are you almost there, pretty girl?” Dick cooed.

“Mhm,” you whined around Jason.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” he goaded, coaxing you further along.

“Mhm,” you said again; this time louder, more desperate.

His fingers kept thrusting into you. Wet squelches echoed from between your thighs as your peak got closer and closer. You could see it just in front of you, within reach, the sweet, shimmery heat already lapping at you. But just as your body got ready for the final ascent, Dick pulled his digits out.

You bursted with displeased whines and agitated whimpers. In a second, you backed off Jason’s cock so you could grab at Dick’s arm.

“Whyyyy?” you pouted, trying to glare at him. Though, with your eyes all glazed from pleasure, it didn’t come off as any kind of intimidating.

“What?” he laughed, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He slid them inside and sucked them clean while maintaining eye contact with you all the while. “You know you’re still gonna get to cum. You just make it too fun to tease you,” he said once he’d pulled them back out.

The explanation did little to quell your discontent, but before you could voice any of it, a hand wrapped around your ankle and tugged you downwards on the mattress. 

Jason had walked around towards the foot of the bed in the midst of your distraction. He crawled over your legs towards the rest of your body, caressing up your calves as he went. His thumb hooked under the hem of your shirt to boost it up. As he moved, his head ducked down to lay some kisses along your belly.

“Have we left you unsatisfied so far, sweetheart?” he asked, gazing up at you through his lashes.

It was a leading question. Of course, the answer that came from your lips was a soft “no.”

“Exactly. So quit whining. You know Dick and I are gonna take care of you.”

His fingers looped over the waistband of your bottoms next. He yanked them off your legs. Tossing them to the side without a second thought. You watched his movements carefully, having a pretty good idea where he was headed. It just wasn’t something you were used to quite yet.

“Lemme return the favor for you, princess. While I’m doing that, you can do the same for Dick.”

“For what? Not letting me finish?” you huffed.

The fingers belonging to the man in questions landed on your forehead and nudged you back, putting your skull flat on the mattress. He smiled down at you stroking your cheek. 

“No one can ever say you don’t know how to hold a grudge,” he teased.

A little scowl curled on your lips. At the same time, Jason got in position between your legs. You felt his hand cup one of your thighs then the other, placing each on either one of his shoulders.

There was really no time to brace yourself before he dove in. In seconds, that petty expression was gone, wiped clean by parted lips and furrowed brows. Your back curled inward, your body coiling in response to the sudden burst of stimulation down there. Dick watched. It was obvious from the look in his pretty blue eyes that he greatly enjoyed seeing the moment the pleasure took you.

“No, she wants people to think she can hold a grudge, but she’s not as tough as she lets on,” Jason taunted, sounding almost affectionate.

That was the last you heard out of him. Before you had the chance to go back and forth, his lips were on your pussy again. He flicked his tongue over your clit, back and forth, back and forth in quick succession. Your hips bucked while your legs flailed fruitlessly, but Jason was more than strong enough to keep you in place.

A broken whine trickled from your lips. Your heels dug into the firm muscles that spanned over his back. You figured he liked it. The harder you pressed, the more fervor he seemed to have with his mouth.

Beside you, Dick shimmied down his pants and pulled them free. His cock was hard, more than ready for some attention. He gave it a few tugs. Just simple jerks of his hand to the sight of you unraveling under Jason’s skillful ministrations.

As you squirmed, your head tilted in his direction. Your eyes fell on the veiny shaft before you. You remembered what Jason had said. To take care of Dick while he took care of you.

“You ready for me, baby?” he checked, voice hushed as he pet his free hand over your head.

You nodded and opened your mouth into the same shape you had before. He did the work for you just like Jason did. Angling his hips, he tapped his tip against the corner of your mouth before pushing it in. Like usual, he was more gentle than Jason. Despite it being the same action, he handled you with more care.

He got just as much pleasure though. A hearty groan came out of him as you started to suckle on the tip. Your eyes fluttered shut. Having something in your mouth gave your attention somewhere else to go. It acted as a distraction from the bursting bliss between your thighs.

You couldn’t see it, but Jason’s eyes flitted up to your face. He watched you take Dick’s cock while his tongue drew mini figure-eights from the bottom of your slit to your cute little bundle of nerves above. Something close to obsession danced at the center of his green irises. When you weren’t looking, he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

Little whimpers still squeaked from your mouth around Dick, but Jason wanted more. Tiny sounds he had to strain his ears to hear weren’t enough. He stopped licking at you, stopped grazing his tongue across your clit. Instead, he maneuvered the wet muscle lower. He prodded it at your opening and sunk it into you. That got a nice, low moan out of you.

He fucked his tongue in and out, pressing it against your silken walls as you pressed your own against the tender ridge of Dick’s cock. He was hissing too then. The three of you created a chorus of ecstasy, a neverending feedback loop of hissing and squirming.

Jason ground his hips against the mattress as you rolled yours towards his face. He was still holding you down, but your movements got him off. Seeing how desperate you could get, how eager you were to writhe into the pleasure, it had him leaking sticky white pre onto your pretty, pristine sheets.

You could feel that burning hot peak building up inside you again. Your toes curled, and your back started to arch. You knew Dick was getting close too from the way he was panting. That and how his hips were starting to jolt forward a little more frequently.

Jason pulled his tongue out of your slick hole and put his mouth on your clit again. He wrapped his lips around the tiny bud, giving it a harsh suck. You yelped around Dick’s cock. Your whole body jerked, and your head snapped back, his saliva-coated length falling from your mouth.

“J-Jay,” you whimpered. Your hand flew down to grab at his damp hair.

He didn’t answer with words, but the feeling of your digits against his scalp got a groan out of him. His tongue continued to dance over your soaked folds. With everything he had, he worked to bring you to the edge. His fingers dug into the plush of your thighs hard, almost bracing himself as he humped the blanket under him.

Gentle as ever, Dick guided your head back in his direction so he could slip his cock between your lips again. You accepted it happily, sucking it like you had been before being interrupted. Your lips rested right against the ridge. Every little vibration from your squeaks of pleasure reverberated through him.

Those small buzzes were enough to get him to the finish. Dick came first. He sighed and tilted his head back. His hand pressed on your head, keeping you close as his shaft twitched against your tongue. Warm spurts of cum bursted into your mouth, and you had no problem swallowing all that he gave.

In the midst of Dick’s release, you hit your high as well. Just as his was coming to end, you felt something snap inside of you. A loud whine bubbled up inside your chest and left your mouth as you slowly eased off. Waves of bliss coursed through you, your body rolling in trembling waves.

Your thighs squeezed around Jason’s head, and that was when he lost it. 

He continued to devour you through it, not pulling away as euphoria surged through him. You cried out when overstimulation began to set in. Your hands weakly pushed at his head.

In a rare reversal, he listened to you. He pulled back from the junction of your thighs, departing with one final kiss to your clit. His jaw shimmered with remnants of your arousal.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes raked over him. Your small pupils drank in every detail. His tousled hair, his lidded eyes, his puffing chest, his softening cock between those thick thighs… But as your vision drifted down, your gaze landed on the mess he’d left on the plush fabric of one of your blankets.

Sitting up quickly, you grabbed it as if to inspect the sticky patch. “Jason,” you whined, accompanied by a glare.

He snatched it back. “Zip it,” he hushed as he climbed off the bed. “I’ll put it in the wash. It’ll be fine. And if not, I’m sure you can afford a new one.”

You narrowed your eyes at the tight-lipped, mocking smile he gave you. “I can, but I don’t want to. That one’s like the best.”

“Then I guess you’d just have to find better than the best,” he replied before stepping out of your bedroom.

A pouty huff came from your lips, but your eyes lingered on the door. You weren’t actually mad, of course. The wash would get the mess out, and even if it didn’t, what he said was true. You were more concerned with trying to figure out whether or not he was coming back.

On your other side, the mattress lifted with the absence of Dick’s weight. He rose from the bed and stretched his limbs out. Your head snapped in his direction, your hand reaching for his wrist.

“Where are you going?” you asked with a little pout.

He eyed you curiously. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a leak - if that’s alright with you.”

Your grip on him loosened as you realized you should probably reign these feelings back in. “I just was wondering like if you were coming back, or if you wanted to do something else.”

“Like?” he asked.

“I just didn’t… want you to feel pressured to like stay in here or anything. I know we all mess around and stuff, but you guys can still sleep in your own rooms if you ever want to,” you said.

His eyes narrowed. He leaned in a little, cupping your chin to direct your eye line. “Would you want us to sleep in the other rooms? Are you getting sick of sharing your bed?”

“No…”

“Do you think I want to sleep in the other room?” he asked.

That prompted a longer pause than the other two questions, but after a few seconds, you shook your head.

“Ok then. No need to worry about it. No one’s annoyed with you. If Jason or I wanted to sleep in the other rooms, we’d tell you that,” he said, leaning down to peck your lips.

With that, he walked off to the bathroom and nudged the door shut behind him. In their collective absence, you dragged yourself out of bed. You took the brief period of free time to put yourself back together and get the bed in order again.

Just as you finished putting your pillow into place, Jason strolled into the room. Without a care for all the organization you’d just done, he came over and flopped down onto your mattress. The blankets wrinkled to his shape, and the pillow you just placed toppled over. You pursed your lips in response before hopping up too and lightly slapping his bicep.

“That’s two times you’ve messed up my bed tonight,” you huffed.

His lips spread into a grin. In a flash, his arms looped around your waist as he playfully wrestled you down onto the mattress. You squirmed around, acting as if you were putting up a fight, but only a matter of seconds had gone by before he had you pinned.

Looking up at him now, you almost forgot the man you met on that first day. His green eyes appeared so much softer. His features seemed way more relaxed. He looked as unbothered as Dick sounded. Maybe you didn’t need to worry.

“We could mess it up again, you know. Maybe before Dick even comes back. I can be fast,” he teased, pecking your cheeks.

“Not fast enough,” Dick’s smooth voice cut in from behind.

That made you smile a little bit. The bathroom door clicked shut again, following it came the soft padding of his feet across the carpet. You brushed your fingertips across Jason’s cheekbone before nudging him off you.

He rolled to one side of your bed while Dick settled on the other. This was how it went most nights. You squished in the middle of their two muscular bodies.

Shifting around a bit, you grabbed the remote. Your head leaned onto Dick’s bicep while your leg overlapped with Jason’s. You could already feel sleepiness creeping up on you, but there was one more thing to decide before letting yourself drift off. Really the only thing that still caused arguments as of late.

“So… Do you guys wanna watch something?”

A few hours later, the tv was still on, broadcasting flickering patterns of light across your bedroom walls. The volume stayed low, the words of the characters on screen inaudible. Not that it mattered. You, Jason, and Dick were all fast asleep by now.

Each of you laid in the positions that had become normal to you now. Dick slept supine with one arm up, you curled into his chest, and Jason latched onto your smaller frame from behind. 

The first time this happened it was almost overwhelming to you. You’d spent the vast majority of your nights up until this point alone. The one boyfriend you had in adolescence had never been allowed to sleepover, and the few flings here and there didn’t bother to really spend the night. You were used to the spacious loneliness that came with the mattresses thrice your size.

But since Dick and Jason had taken up residence with you and divided your king sized bed into three sectors, you didn’t think you could ever go back. Without Dick’s strong heartbeat thumping below your ear, something would feel missing. The absence of soft puffs of Jason’s breath against the back of your neck would leave you cold. In only a handful of nights, you’d become acclimated to sleeping with tangled limbs and limited moving room.

Besides the barely audible chatter of the television, your bedroom was always silent at night. The penthouse was so high up, the sounds of the city below never disturbed your slumber. Cars honking, people shouting, trucks huffing. It was all so distant and muted. None of it could penetrate the peaceful haze of your dreams.

Tonight something else was responsible for that. Not just sounds, but something physical that roused you from the depths of unconsciousness.

It started as simple rustling. Just the sheets shifting against each other, the blanket being pulled from beneath one person’s weight to wrap around another’s. And then grunting followed it. It was quiet and uneven, accompanied by heavy breaths.

You didn’t wake from just that though. Only when you heard mumbling and felt more forceful movements did your eyes flutter open.

Jason’s nose wasn’t nestled against the base of your neck. That was the first thing you realized. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while sitting up. Your movements came slow at first, bogged down by your body’s desire to go back to sleep. It took a few seconds to register what was happening. The glow of the tv disoriented you as your mind tried to fit everything into place.

But you soon realized the mumbling and squirming was coming from Jason.

Glancing over at him, you saw him curled up facing the opposite of you. The muscles in his back looked tense, as if bracing for some kind of impact. His legs kicked at the covers, not with their full force since he couldn’t give all his effort but still pretty hard.

You furrowed your brows as you observed for a few seconds. At first, you didn’t understand what you were looking at. But then you heard him more clearly. You could make out words like “no” and “stop” and “get off.” He made a noise that almost sounded like crying, and that was when it clicked.

He was having a nightmare.

Instantly, you scooted closer, kneeling behind his back. You brought a gentle hand down on his bicep and tried waking him with a combination of soothing strokes and weak shakes.

“Jason?” you whispered. You didn’t want him to get pissy about being woken up, but you also didn’t like watching him upset by his dreams.

He didn’t wake up from your cautious touches or quiet call, so you tried a little harder. You shook him with some actual dedication and leaned in closer.

“Jason. You’re dreaming. Wake up,” you said. Your voice remained caring and tender, but you said the words clearly. His eyes stayed shut though so you went for one more attempt. “Come onnnn. Wake up. Don’t make me get some water-”

The pitchy whine snapped his eyes open; only he didn’t awaken with the relieved gasp or tiny jolt you were expecting. Instead, he snapped at you like you’d nudged him with the barrel of a gun rather than your fingers. He flipped around and lunged. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, the other slammed your shoulder down to the mattress.

You squeaked at the blur of motion. Of course, you knew Jason was strong. It was obvious from the way he worked out and the muscles padding his body. You’d just never really felt how strong he was first hand.

This was a different kind of strength from when he fucked you. His fingers didn’t dig in just enough to mark, their pressure against your skin acted as an unspoken threat. He slammed you down with way more force than when he was just manhandling you. In a position like this, you realized how powerless you really were against him, how easy it would be for him to snap your bones or severely maim you if he felt so inclined.

You stared up at him with widened eyes. Your body trembled with a mixture of fear and confusion. Earlier, when he was on top of you, looking all soft and sweet, it seemed hard to compare him to the facade he wore around strangers. But right now, he had morphed into another creature entirely. That quick temper you saw from day one became so much more severe under pressure. It sharpened into something looking to puncture. You didn’t even want to speak his name to try and calm whatever sort of reaction you’d triggered in case the mere sound of your voice would set him off further.

Luckily for you, being throttled onto the bed had been enough to wake Dick too. He came to his senses faster than you had. The second he saw your predicament, he was up. He grabbed Jason’s shoulder and tugged him back without fear. Maybe he’d done this before.

You sat up, rubbing your throat as you scooted back to lean against the headboard. There was no internal damage that you could feel since he hadn’t actually choked you, but the sting of forming bruises along the base of your throat lingered.

“Hey, hey, hey. You were dreaming, man. No one’s here. You’re alright. She’s fine,” Dick murmured to Jason at the end of the bed.

He definitely had done this before. You could tell. The way he positioned his hands on his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. The tone he spoke with, intentionally grounding and firm without being harsh or scolding. It was practiced, tried and true. You wondered for how long had Jason needed this kind of help. For how long had he struggled with whatever caused him to lash out.

It only took a couple moments for Jason to come back down to reality with the both of you. You could nearly see his features relax back into the shape you’d grown accustomed to. His eyes softened, and although his chest still heaved with rough panting breaths, his posture relaxed. He rubbed a hand over his face before his gaze shifted to you.

For a second, he appeared almost sheepish. Though a stoic mask quickly came up to conceal that.

“Are you alright?” he rasped. “I didn’t…”

“I’m fine,” you reassured quickly. “You just startled me a little, but I’m not hurt or anything.”

He nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “That’s… um that’s good,” he said. But he still wasn’t settled. Instead of returning to his previous place next to you, he made his way off the bed. “I’m sorry. I- It- I’m just gonna take a minute,” he mumbled.

“Jason, wait. You don’t have to-” you started, but he was already out the door without looking back.

Your head turned to Dick who was coming to sit next to you again. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to scare him like that. I just touched his arm and-” you tried to explain.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You’re ok,” he said. His hands gently maneuvered your jaw around to get a look at the markings on your throat.

“Is he?” you asked. “He seemed really upset. I don’t want him thinking I’m mad or something…”

“He doesn’t think you’re mad. Promise,” Dick said softly. Once he was satisfied with his inspection of your neck, he leaned back against the headboard next to you.

You wrapped your arm around Dick’s, leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat in the silence of the bedroom for a couple seconds. You hesitated before speaking again.

“Why did he get so freaked out?” you asked, voice quieter than before. You knew there was a risk you were prying into something that was none of your business, but didn’t you have a right to know after getting choked-slammed as a result of it?

“Jason… He…” Dick started, clearly contemplating whether he should share or not as well. “A few years ago, he was on a case. One of the last ones at our old firm. He was serving a protection order for this girl. And anyways, the details aren’t too important, but it didn’t go well. He got hurt. The client… she didn’t make it out.”

Your eyes widened. Suddenly, guilt for all the shit you’d given Jason upon meeting him hit you like a truck.

“I… Is that what he dreams about?” you asked.

Dick shrugged. “He’s never told me exactly. I’ve only seen him like that a few times before this, on different cases, but I didn’t think he’d had one in a long time,” he said.

“Does he blame himself for what happened?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, smiling a little despite the words. “Any time something goes wrong on a case, you blame yourself. But there was no way he could have done anything different. We had a leak within the agency that sold out their location. No one knew until it was too late.”

You frowned. This story didn’t get any better the more you learned. You tried to piece this information together with your already existing perception of Jason. Part of you just wanted to imagine what he would have been like before any of that. He probably would have been around your age. Maybe he’d be carefree like you or have a sense of humor closer to Dick’s. It didn’t really matter though. Contextualizing what was real was more important than imagining a life that would never exist.

“Should we…?” you said, tilting your head towards the door.

“No. He likes to be alone afterwards,” he answered.

Your frown worsened. Likes didn’t seem like the correct word here. You doubted he liked any of this. He was probably in his room or downstairs, moping around, feeling ashamed and isolated, wanting company and not knowing how to ask for it.

But Dick was already laying down again, so you followed in suit.

“Just give him till morning. He’ll be ok,” he told you, kissing your forehead before relaxing into the mattress again.

You did not plan on giving Jason till morning.

After lying there for a couple minutes, worry for him still nagged at you. There was no way you were gonna fall asleep like this, thinking of a new scenario every few seconds, all of which involved him lonely and in anguish.

You just waited until Dick fell asleep before creeping out of bed and slipping into the hall. Quiet as could be, you padded down the lofted walkway. You peeked into his room on the way, finding it empty and untouched except for his open duffel bag. He must have been downstairs then.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you found the living room and kitchen empty too. A few more paces in, however, you spotted his figure out on the balcony. He leaned against the railing towards the corner, head hanging forward. His dark hair blew to the side in the breeze outside.

Even though you knew it’d be cold, you opened the door and stepped out. A little shiver overcame you as the chilled air hit your skin. He didn’t look. Either he didn’t hear the door, or he was hoping you’d cut your losses now and go back inside.

But of course, you didn’t.

“How do you not get dizzy doing that?” you called softly as you approached him.

He glanced over in your direction. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights too, little brat?” he asked. Despite the nickname, his voice came out almost hollow. As if someone had carved out his usual mirth.

“Well kinda… I don’t come out here too much,” you admitted with a shrug.

In contrast to your slight aversion, you took up the place next to him, placing your forearms on the frosty steel rail.

“Why do you live in a penthouse if you don’t like heights?” he said.

“I didn’t really choose the floor,” you started. You intended to say more, but a low hum from him cut you off.

“That’s right. How could I have thought otherwise?”

He said it in the way he talked to you before, when you were just a client. When you were just a pest. It hurt a bit, you couldn’t lie. But you didn’t let it push you away. You knew he wouldn’t be in a good mood before you came down here. The time alone probably only hardened his feelings and aimed them more at himself.

“Are you ok, Jason?” you asked, soft and quiet. You reached to touch his arm; however, he put a stop to that by inching away.

“Don’t,” was all he said.

“I just-” you tried.

“I know. You just want to help. But I’m telling you don’t. I don’t need it,” he maintained.

Maybe you should have stopped there. It might have been better to just stand there with him, offer comfort by not letting him be alone even if it had to be through silence. But to be honest… the short tone and the way he interrupted your point pissed you off. You took a deep breath and gripped the railing a little tighter.

“You look like you do,” you said, trying to remain non-confrontational. “You’re out here all alone while it’s freezing.”

“Like I said, I don’t. I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

“But you don’t have to! You can tell me stuff, you know. Like real stuff. I know I’m not like your best friend or anything, but I wanna actually know you. I can listen and maybe help if you let me,” you said, starting the same spiel you gave to Dick earlier.

Only Jason didn’t want it.

“I don’t want help from you.”

Your cheeks burned at the targeted nature of the statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want help, apparently. No. Just that he didn’t want it to be yours.

“You know you have your right to privacy, and if you really don’t wanna tell me how you feel, fine. But don’t act like I’m a goddamn stranger,” you said.

“Oh, that’s a bad word. You sure daddy lets you say that one?” he retorted.

And that stung. He’d made cracks like that before, of course, on the day you met and those that came after. Right up until that morning where you’d given him all of yourself. That was why it hurt so much when he said it now. It was why your throat tightened a little and your eyes started to sting. You thought that things were different. That he at least understood you even if he didn’t respect you.

“Why are you being such a jerk? I was just trying to help you. Just because you’re too scared to let me in, you don’t have to be rude,” you defended.

He let out a bitter laugh at that. “Oh scared? Is that what I am? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunted. “Because then you’d get to be the one to fix me, and you could finally prove to me that you’re capable. You could get my approval for doing something worthwhile because you know it’ll never come from your daddy.”

The breath vanished from your lungs. You had to actively try not to cry now. Crying would only make you look more pathetic in front of him, and while he may be winning the argument, you’d be damned if you proved him right in any way.

“You barely even know me! How-” you forced out, trying to hide the way your voice cracked.

“If I barely even know you then why the fuck would I wanna talk about this stuff with you?” he said.

Your argument shriveled up on your tongue because, technically, he had a point.

“I was just offering because I thought…” you trailed off. A combination of losing and not wanting to share held you back now.

“I’m not telling you anything because I know you,” he continued. “I know you wouldn’t understand, and you never will. You’ll never know what real pain is. You’ll never have to deal with actual guilt. And I know for a fucking fact shame isn’t a thing in your life.”

You stood there, taking it all. This was the first time he was actually mean to you. Everything in the beginning had been a simmer, but now his temper was heating up. You didn’t even know what to do when he was done. You didn’t want to cower and run off with your tail between your legs, but you also didn’t want to agitate him more.

“Ok, Jason, I get it,” you said. Now yours was the voice that had been hollowed out. This was probably his first time hearing you speak without some form of whining or teasing.

He looked away, and you could tell he realized that he went a little too far. He wanted you to leave him alone but not permanently. But what was said was said. There was no way to unhear his words.

“Look…” he started, but you honestly couldn’t take any half-assed apologies right now.

“It’s fine. Just forget it,” you said, barely more than a whisper, before walking back inside.

The air in the living room was objectively warmer, but the emptiness of the place made it seem chilled. You skulked back upstairs and into your room, slipping into bed with Dick again as if you never left. Your head landed on his chest and your palm rested on the center of his abdomen. You shut your eyes in an attempt to let the sound of his beating heart drown out Jason’s words that were still bouncing around in your skull.

It didn’t really work, but one positive came along with the sadness. It suppressed your anxiety. The pain left you wanting to avoid Jason, so you weren’t at all concerned about whether he was coming back to your bed or not.

You accepted the fact that he’d probably be back in the guest room for good.

[stellamarielu]

thinking about andrew cody building a crib

Half past two in the morning and Andrew was working in the dim light of the nursery. A standing lamp in the corner of the room the only guide allowing him to assemble the crib that had just been delivered earlier that day.

Being with you had granted him more sleep than he’d ever gotten in his life, but Andrew still had trouble falling asleep some nights, especially after finding out you were pregnant.

He went through an array of emotions every single day revolving his journey into fatherhood, the rush of feelings often led him into late nights where he could let his mind wander along with his hands as he prepared things for the baby. 

Tonight was no different, sneaking out of bed long after you’d fallen asleep so he could put together the newest addition to the room next door— the crib.

He tried his best to be quiet, hoping not to wake you while he worked.

Only, your insomnia had become just as bad as his. Being seven months pregnant, you spent most nights tossing and turning, never getting more than six hours of sleep strewn together in thirty minute intervals. 

You turned over in a defeated huff once you realized you were awake again, only to find the space usually occupied by Andrew’s sturdy presence, empty. Running your hands along the material next to you— the cool, wrinkled sheets underneath your fingertips making his absence evident.

You sat up, rolling out of bed in a manner that took you twice as long as it would have months prior. Due to your protruding belly, the easiest daily activities had become less than convenient.

But once you were finally standing, you heard it— wood knocking against wood on the other side of the wall. 

Your bare feet slowly carried you to the nursery, until your body was left lingering in the doorway.

There he was— Andrew. Kneeling on the floor tightening one of the last screws on the crib that had been completely packaged in a box the last time you saw it. 

“You’ve still got two months, you know?” 

His head whips toward the door as soon as your voice squeaks past your lips, still riddled with sleep. 

“I know.” 

His response is short, but his stare is extensive as he keeps his eyes on you long after the words leave his mouth. 

He’s on the ground, peering up, studying your frame; clad in one of his t-shirts, pulling tight at your swollen belly. The evidence of both of your sleepless nights peeking out just above the waistband of your panties where a sliver of your stomach is exposed to him underneath your shirt— his shirt. 

“So then, what’s the rush?” 

The question is partially rhetorical as you all but hobble past him, finding a seat in the glider he put together last week. The recliner melts perfectly under your weight as you sit down, rocking back and forth gently as Andrew’s attention returns back to the nearly finished crib at his fingertips. 

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect.” Focus pulls his brows together as he speaks, sending a warmth stirring in your chest. 

You watch as he tightens another screw, arms flexing and jaw twitching, and you can tell he has a million thoughts racing in his head— none of which he’d dare speak aloud. 

The pregnancy hormones currently in control of your body have your heart fluttering. It’s sight you’d never imagined, the man you love, Andrew Cody, putting together a crib at nearly three in the morning— which is why watching him nearly moves you to tears.

“She’s going to love you so much.” 

He stops; arms frozen and jaw relaxing as your words hit him, slowly melting into his ears, and sinking into the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re already such a good dad Andrew,” your voice is only a whisper as you continue to rock in the chair next to him.

“I hope you know that.”

He nods his head silently, staring at the crib ahead of him, his eyes blinking rapidly, a shaky breath pushing past his lips before his hands are back at work.

[4milly]

make it to morning - jimmy u. 2

gif credit @punksrhea.

the tales of 2 roommates, and 1 man.

warning: unprotected sex, possessiveness, cheating, fingering, sex tapes, pillow talk, oral sex (both m and f receiving), exhibitionism, manipulation, (warnings will update as story progresses)

word count: 9.2k (yes, yes. I know. BUT CMONNN)

idea completely credited to @msbigredmachine <3

three weeks had passed since that night.

the miami summer had settled into its full, oppressive heat. malasia had become a master of avoidance, constructing her life around the space where jimmy might appear.

the first week, she'd booked a hotel room at a budget chain on the boulevard. three nights of scratchy sheets and the distant hum of traffic had cost her nearly a quarter of a website commission, but it had given her space to breathe, to think, to scrub her skin raw in a shower that never quite got hot enough.

she'd told trinity she was visiting a college friend passing through town—a lie that had slipped from her lips with disturbing ease.

the second week, when trinity mentioned jimmy would be staying over the weekend, malasia had packed her laptop and enough clothes for three days, claiming a last-minute business trip to tampa.

she'd actually spent sixty-seven hours in a beachside airbnb in hollywood, fifteen miles north, watching the waves crash against the shore and jumping at every notification on her phone.

by the third week, she'd established a routine. she woke at five am, before trinity or any potential overnight guests might stir. she'd slip out of the apartment in predawn darkness, laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and drive thirty minutes to a coffee shop where nobody knew her name.

asia waited till it was safe: safe meaning trinity would be at work, preparing for the dinner shift at the restaurant. safe meaning no chance of jimmy's matte black g-wagon parked in the visitor's spot.

no chance of them falling onto my bed again.

malasia sat in her usual spot at café mills, staring at her laptop screen without really seeing it. the code blurred before her eyes, her fingers hovering motionless over the keyboard. she'd slept poorly again, dreams filled with jimmy's hands, his voice in her ear, the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

she'd wake gasping, sheets twisted around her legs, and her arousal staining the bed sheets. she couldn't deny the torturous ache left within her, or the way her pussy would randomly clench around nothing. she felt ruined.

the messages had been relentless. jimmy's name appearing on her phone screen like a haunting, each text more possessive than the last. over 42 text from jimmy within the last few weeks:

the first one innocent enough to make her heart skip before dread settled in: "you good, ma? ain't seen you around."

"missing you mama. been thinking bout how you felt wrapped around me."

"saw you jet out this mornin'. them blue workout shorts look good, baby."

"you thinking bout me, when you touch yo'self? i bet you do."

"this ain't over, asia. y'know that. you can run all you want."

"i miss that pussy so bad. nobody take it, like you do lil mama."

the latest had come with a video—his hand wrapped around himself, stroking himself, his movements moving rhythmically as he called out her name.

"shit, asia. you so fuckin' pretty, baby."

she'd deleted it immediately, but the video had burned itself into her memory.

malasia checked the time—4:17 PM. Trinity should be at work by now, preparing for the dinner rush. she gathered her things, sliding her laptop into its protective sleeve and draining the last of her cold coffee. the caffeine did little to settle her nerves as she contemplated returning to the apartment.

she pulled into her assigned parking spot, noting with relief that trinity's cherry-red audi was gone from its usual place. perfect. she'd have the apartment to herself.

the relief was short-lived.

as she approached their building, she noticed unfamiliar cars in the visitor parking—a white range rover and a silver tesla. probably for other units, she reasoned, quickening her pace. the elevator ride to the fourth floor felt interminable, her heart rate increasing with each illuminated number.

trinity wouldn't be home for hours. the restaurant didn't close until midnight, and trinity usually stayed for cleanup, sometimes joining coworkers for drinks afterward. it was only wednesday—not a night jimmy typically stayed over. the apartment would be empty, quiet, safe.

she stepped inside, dropping her keys into the ceramic bowl on the console table—a habit trinity had insisted upon after finding malasia's keys in the refrigerator one sleep-deprived morning.

the first indication that something was wrong was the music—low, throbbing r&b filtering from the living room. malasia froze, her fingers still on the light switch. the second indication was laughter—feminine, unfamiliar, followed by the unmistakable timbre of a voice that had haunted her dreams for three weeks.

trinity was home. trinity was home with friends. trinity was home with friends and...jimmy.

"well, look who came home," he drawled, his eyes traveling the length of her body with dark eyes

"there she is!" trinity called out, her voice carrying the slight lilt that indicated she was already two drinks in. "the ghost of south beach returns."

beside her sat a girl malasia vaguely recognized from trinity's Instagram—zara or zuri, something with a z—her box braids cascading down her back as she sipped from a wineglass.

malasia's fingers tightened around her laptop bag, knuckles whitening. "I thought… don't you work tonight?"

trinity waved her hand dismissively. "manager had to cut staff. slow night." she gestured toward the kitchen.

"come join us!" the girl on the floor said, as she moved over to make room on the couch for asia

"i—i have work to finish," malasia stammered, eyes darting everywhere but to the armchair where jimmy sat watching her, his dark eyes tracking her every movement. "just gonna head to my room."

"come on, asia," jimmy said, her nickname rolling off his tongue like honey, thick and sweet and dangerous. "one drink won't kill you."

the familiarity in his voice sent shivers racing down her spine. did trinity notice? could she hear the intimacy, the possession in the way jimmy said her name?

"you've been mia weeks. sit down. be human for once," trinity agreed

malasia hesitated, frozen between flight and the social obligation to stay. a third girl emerged from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of wine and an extra glass. she was tall, statuesque, with a crown of natural curls and skin the color of burnished copper.

"you must be the mysterious roommate," the newcomer said, her smile genuine and warm. "i'm nia. trinity's friend."

"malasia," she replied automatically, accepting the glass nia pressed into her hands. "nice to meet you."

malasia found herself seated on the edge of the sofa, as far from jimmy as the furniture allowed, but still within his line of sight. she could feel his eyes on her—hot, possessive, knowing—as she took a sip of wine to wet her suddenly dry throat.

the wine was dry, acidic against her tongue—nothing like the syrupy tequila that had clouded her judgment that night. malasia took another sip, hoping the alcohol might calm her hammering heart.

zuri—that was her name, malasia remembered now—leaned forward, her box braids falling over one shoulder like a glossy waterfall. she wore a cropped sweater that exposed a strip of toned midriff, her nails painted a vibrant coral that flashed like warning signals when she gestured.

"so what do you do, anyway?" zuri asked, her gaze curious and appraising. "trinity says you're always on your laptop, but she's never actually said what you do."

the question was innocent enough, but malasia felt herself tensing anyway.

"i design websites," malasia answered, her fingers tracing the stem of her wineglass. "mostly for small businesses and startups."

"oh, that's dope," nia chimed in, settling cross-legged on the plush rug. her curls caught the light from the floor lamp, creating a halo effect around her face. "freelance? or do you work for a company?"

"freelance," malasia replied, warming slightly to the topic. work was safe. work was neutral territory. "i was with an agency in chicago, but when i moved here, i decided to go independent. more flexibility."

"chicago to miami is a whole vibe change," zuri noted, her bangles clinking musically as she reached for her glass. "what made you leave? the winters?"

malasia's smile faltered, "j—just wanted a change. y'know?"

"ouuu. was it a breakup gone bad? girl don't i know it. niggas are thee worst." nia chimed in, throwing back her last gulp of wine

malasia shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of jimmy's unwavering gaze from across the room. his jawline had tightened, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly at the mention of her past.

"it wasn't that dramatic," malasia offered, focusing on the crimson liquid swirling in her glass. "just a relationship that ran its course after five years."

"five years?" nia whistled low. "that's practically a marriage in today's dating world. what happened? he cheat?"

the wine suddenly tasted bitter on Malasia's tongue. marcus hadn't cheated—that would have been simpler, cleaner somehow. instead, he'd simply stopped seeing her, as though she'd gradually become transparent over the years until one day, she was completely invisible to him.

"he just…decided he didn't want the same things anymore," malasia said carefully, aware of how jimmy had leaned forward in his seat, hanging on her every word. "said he wasn't ready for the next steps."

"sounds like some weak shit to me," jimmy continued, his voice dropping an octave lower. "real man knows what he wants. takes it. keeps it."

malasia swallowed hard, the wine turning to ash in her mouth. every word felt like a secret message meant only for her, laden with memories of his hands on her body, his voice in her ear. she set her glass down with shaking fingers, suddenly desperate for escape.

"maybe yo man just wasn't worthy," he said, still looking directly at malasia while addressing the room. "some women need to be handled right. need someone who knows they value."

"i should really finish this project," she managed, gesturing vaguely toward her laptop bag. "deadline tomorrow."

"girl, it's barely seven," nia protested, reaching for the wine bottle. "the night is young! trinity says your lame, ugh."

"i've been busy with work," malasia defended weakly, avoiding trinity's penetrating gaze.

trinity rolled her eyes, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a deliberate sip. "work, work, work. that's all we ever hear from you. like sitting on your laptop in pajamas all day is such hard labor."

the room fell silent, the music suddenly seeming too loud in the awkward pause. malasia felt heat creeping up her neck, spreading across her cheeks in a flush that was part embarrassment, part anger.

"i mean," trinity continued, leaning back against the couch cushions with casual cruelty, "designing websites isn't even a real job. it's like, what? dragging and dropping pictures and typing some words? my twelve-year-old cousin could probably do that."

jimmy's eyes narrowed slightly, but a small smirk played at the corner of his mouth. he seemed to be enjoying the show.

"but hey," trinity shrugged, raising her glass in mock toast, "if it keeps the bills paid, whatever. at least your rent checks don't bounce. whatever imaginary job you got, keeps you off your ass forsure."

malasia's fingers curled around the edge of the sofa, nails digging into the fabric. the dismissal of her career—her passion—stung more than it should have. five years of design school, countless all-nighters perfecting her craft, clients who valued her work enough to pay thousands for it—all reduced to "not even a real job."

"damn, trin," nia said, her eyebrows shooting up. "you didn't have to go there."

"what?" trinity's laugh was sharp, defensive. "i'm just saying what we're all thinking. she acts like she's saving someones life or something."

zuri shifted uncomfortably, placing her glass on the coffee table. "i actually think website design is pretty dope. my cousin started an online boutique last year, and the designer she hired made all the difference in her sales."

"thank you," malasia said firmly, finding her voice at last. she stood, gathering her laptop bag, "but trinity's entitled to her opinion. even if it lacks any narrative."

trinity's eyes flashed dangerously. "excuse me?"

"girl, let it go," zuri murmured, placing a cautioning hand on Trinity's arm. "you're being extra right now."

but Trinity shook her off, rising to her feet to face Malasia directly. "i work my ass off serving entitled rich people every night while you sit here in our air-conditioned apartment tapping on a keyboard. don't talk to me about lacking narrative...i know nothing about you."

jimmy leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching the confrontation with glittering eyes. the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife.

"exactly. lets keep it like that." malasia stated, before turning on her heels to head to her room.

she didn't miss the audible "bitch" that came from trinity before she disappeared into the hall. she could feel jimmy's gaze burning into her back, tracking her retreat like a predator noting the weakness of its prey.

"you really had to do all that shit?" jimmy finally spoke, his tone carrying a warning edge, "why you care what she do with her life? let the girl work if she wants to. not everyone wanna be apart of that social shit."

malasia waited outside her bedroom door to hear his defense, if it could be called that. it felt worse than trinity's attack. the subtle condescension, the faint note of pity—it all confirmed what malasia had suspected since that night: in jimmy's eyes, she was nothing more than a convenient distraction, a secret to be kept, a weakness to be exploited.

what she didn't expect is moment's later her phone to light up:

you aight mama? you need me?

she face palmed. she didn't know if she wanted to march back in that room and slap the shit out of him, or just scream her head off. she choose better:

don't ever fucking contact me again.

jimmy's response came almost instantly: don't be like that, ma. you know it ain't that simple.

malasia stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the block button. with a decisive press, she blocked his number, then deleted their entire message thread. a wave of relief washed over her, followed immediately by a hollow ache she refused to acknowledge.

she tossed her phone onto the bed and leaned against the door, sliding down until she sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. outside, she could hear the muffled sounds of conversation resuming, trinity's laughter cutting through the music. malasia closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, but instead found herself transported back to that night.

the memory came unbidden–jimmy's hands gripping her thighs, his weight pressing her into the mattress, the way he'd looked at her with such hunger. her body responded traitorously to the recollection, a pulse of heat between her legs that made her press her thighs together in frustration.

"fuck," she whispered to the empty room, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

the morning after had been worse than the act itself. she'd woken to an empty bed, the only evidence of what they'd done dried on her inner thighs and sheets. her cunt still wet and pulsing in her panties.

trinity had already left for brunch with friends–a small mercy that had allowed malasia to strip her bed without explanation, to scrub herself raw in the shower as if she could wash away the betrayal along with the physical evidence.

she'd turned the shower as hot as she could stand it, steam billowing around her as she stepped under the spray. with trembling fingers, she'd washed away the physical remnants of jimmy—his dried cum, sticky against her inner thighs, dissolving under the relentless water.

but as she'd scrubbed, something unexpected happened. the memory of his hands on her body, his weight pressing her into the mattress, the way he'd filled her so completely—it all came rushing back with an intensity that made her gasp. her nipples had hardened under the spray, her body remembering what her conscience wished to forget.

her fingers has a mind of their own. without a conscious thought, her fingers found her swollen bud. she let out a gasp as she began to rub circles on her clit. she grabbed the shower head off the wall. angling it towards her clit.

asia's quiet moans started to feel the air, she moved two fingers down to her pussy. she was soaked. she'd caught with her lip caught between her teeth to stifle her cries, jimmy's name a forbidden thought she refused to acknowledge. she spread her fingers into a 'v' to stretch herself, the same way jimmy had.

after a few movements, she felt her pussy flutter around her fingers before she clamped down and flooded her hand. her knees buckled from the force, and she slid down the shower wall. letting the water wash away her tears of shame along with the evidence of her weakness.

now, just weeks later, in the quiet sanctuary of her bedroom with jimmy's presence just walls away, the memory of that morning made her face burn with humiliation.

how could her body betray her like that? how could she still feel this pull toward someone who used her for a night and betrayed his own relationship; a secret to be kept from her own roommate?

malasia sat on her bed for what felt like hours. the room getting smaller by the minute.

the distant laughter from the living room eventually faded. asia heard the front door open and close as trinity's friends departed, followed by hushed conversations she couldn't quite make out. she remained motionless on her bed, staring at the ceiling fan's hypnotic rotation until the apartment fell silent.

the digital clock on her nightstand glowed 11:42 PM. she hadn't eaten dinner, hadn't showered, hadn't done anything productive since retreating to her room. her laptop remained untouched in its bag. the client deadline loomed, but her mind refused to focus on anything except the knowledge that jimmy had been just beyond her door, laughing with his girlfriend, while texting her in the next.

asia sat up, running her hands through her hair. sleep seemed impossible, but she couldn't bear being awake with her thoughts anymore. she reached for the small bottle of melatonin on her nightstand—a recent purchase that had become essential.

without it, she'd lie awake for hours, replaying that night, feeling phantom touches on her skin.

she swallowed two gummies, chasing them with lukewarm water from the glass she'd left there that morning. the cherry flavor lingered on her tongue as she changed into sleep shorts and a tank top. the miami heat made anything more unbearable, even with the air conditioning humming steadily.

ss she settled under her thin sheet, ssia tried to quiet her mind. The melatonin would take twenty minutes to kick in—twenty minutes of dangerous thoughts she couldn't afford.

she reached for her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media, trying to distract herself from the memories that threatened to surface.

eventually, the artificial drowsiness began to take hold. her eyelids grew heavy, her limbs loose and warm. she set her phone aside and surrendered to the chemical calm washing over her. her last conscious thought was relief that tomorrow was thursday—trinity would be working a double shift.

the apartment would be hers. alone.

the sensation came gradually—warm lips against her neck, gentle at first, then more insistent. asia stirred, caught in that hazy space between dreams and wakefulness. the kisses felt so real, trailing down to her collarbone, back up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. the weight on her body seemed substantial, not the phantom pressure of a dream.

her body responded before her mind fully awoke—a liquid heat pooling between her thighs, her nipples hardening beneath her thin tank top. when large hands skimmed down her sides to hook into the waistband of her sleep shorts, reality crashed through the melatonin fog.

her eyes flew open to find jimmy above her, his face half-shadowed in the darkness. he was slowly lowering her shorts and panties in one motion, his movements deliberate, unhurried, as if he had every right to be there.

"what—" she began, but her voice was thick with sleep and confusion.

"shh," jimmy whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "you smell so fuckin' good, ma."

"jimmy," she gasped, her mind struggling against the melatonin haze. "you can't be here—"

he ignored her and continued placing hot kisses along her neck, as she pushed against his chest, "we can't—not again—"

"trinity's right down the hall," he reminds her, his lips brushing against her ear. "you want her to hear how good I'm fuckin' you? hm? you gotta be quiet."

she shook her hand frantically as horror shot down her spine. asia's back arched involuntarily as he curled his finger inside her, finding that spot that made stars explode behind her eyelids. her protest died on her lips, replaced by a moan she couldn't suppress. she heard the faint squelching noises as his fingers moved in and out her pussy.

"you so fuckin' wet, mama. all for me, too. just for me." he whispered into her ear

a moan escaped her lips as his thumb circled her clit. immediately, his large hand covered her mouth, pressing firmly enough to silence her but not enough to restrict her breathing.

"i said quiet," he reminded her, eyes glittering dangerously in the darkness. "you gonna be good for me?"

asia's hands came up to push against his chest, a token resistance that felt more like going through the motions than genuine rejection. his muscular frame didn't budge under her palms.

with one smooth thrust, jimmy buried himself inside her. her back arched off the bed, a scream trapped behind his hand as he filled her completely. he remained still for a moment, savoring the sensation of her cunt pulsing around him.

"there she is," he murmurs appreciatively as her body surrenders. "there's my girl."

asia whimpers beneath his palm, tears now flowing freely down her temples into her hair. the truth of his words cuts deeper than she wants to admit. her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, pulling him deeper.

"fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "yo ass so perfect, asia."

jimmy's rhythm was relentless, each thrust driving deeper than the last. His hand remained firmly over her mouth, catching every gasp, every whimper that threatened to escape. the headboard creaked faintly with their movement. they both knew where they'd be heading if they kept up.

"we gotta move," jimmy whispered, his voice rough with desire. "this bed too damn loud, mama."

he withdrew suddenly, leaving her empty and aching. before she could protest, he pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. his tongue circling her own, to remember her taste.

"shhh," he whispered against her lips, his voice a low command that sent shivers down her spine. "not one sound. you understand me?"

asia nodded, her eyes wide in the darkness, pupils blown with a mixture of fear and desperate want.

"good girl," he murmured, approval warming his tone as he slid his large hands beneath her thighs.

in one fluid motion, jimmy lifted her into his arms. she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, feeling his dick press in-between her folds as he stood. her weight seemed inconsequential in his strong grip, his muscles flexing as he adjusted her position.

he carried her across the room in three long strides, her back meeting the cool wood of her bedroom door with a soft thud. the contrast between the cold surface against her shoulder blades and jimmy's burning heat pressed against her front sent shivers racing down her spine.

he adjusted his grip, strong hands cupping her ass, spreading her wider as he positioned himself at her entrance again, "right here, baby. this how i wanna fuck you. wrap your legs around me tight...just like that."

she complied, locking her ankles at the small of his back as he pressed her against the bedroom door. she tangled her hands in his hair as she pressed her lips to his.

shit, what was she doing?

he rubbed himself between her folds, before slamming inside her in one thrust. asia bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out, the sensation of being so completely filled overwhelming her senses. The angle was devastating—deeper than before, hitting places inside her that made coherent thought impossible.

the wet slick of her arousal coating his length with each thrust, the soft thud of her back against the door, their mingled breathing harsh in the darkness.

"look at chu," he growled, his pace relentless as he drove into her. "takin' all of me so good."

jimmy shifted his grip on her thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he adjusted their position against the door. he spread her legs wider, the new angle allowing him to drive even deeper inside her. fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto his cock with each upward thrust.

the obscene wet sounds of their connection filled the darkness—slick, rhythmic squelches that made asia's face burn with equal parts shame and arousal. each thrust forced more of her wetness to coat his length, dripping down to where his balls slapped against her with every deep plunge.

"jimmy," she gasped, her voice barely audible as she fought to keep quiet. her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, exposing the vulnerable column of her throat to his hungry mouth.

he immediately latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark she'd have to hide tomorrow. his hips never stopped their relentless pace, the thick ridge of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside. her pussy gripping him tightly with each withdrawal, only to yield completely as he drove back in.

her wetness had soaked them both, making each thrust smoother, deeper than the last.

"you feel that?" he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper against her ear. "feel how perfect we fit? nobody else makes you this wet, do they?"

asia shook her head, unable to deny the truth of his words. her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper with each thrust. the pressure was building low in her belly, coiling tighter with each stroke.

"that's right," jimmy continued, his pace increasing as he felt her response. "this pussy's mines. you mines."

she clenched around him greedily, her toes begin to stopped from curling them so tightly, "i can't—" she whimpered, her thighs beginning to tremble around his waist. "it's too much."

"nah, mama," he growled, tightening his grip on her ass. "you can take it. you were made for this dick."

he quickened his pace, fucking into her with abandon now. the slapping sound of skin against skin grew louder, more urgent. asia buried her face against his shoulder to muffle her cries, teeth sinking into his shoulder.

jimmy's hands kneaded her ass, spreading her cheeks further apart as he continued his assault. the position left her completely exposed, completely at his mercy. one of his fingers traced the edge of her puckered hole, before pushing through it making her gasp.

"you like that?" he murmured, watching her reactions carefully even in the dim light. "

she could only nod frantically against his shoulder as pleasure built to unbearable heights. her clit rubbed against his lower abdomen with each thrust, providing the perfect friction to push her toward the edge.

"that's it," he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "squeeze this dick, baby. show me how good it feels."

she turned her face to capture his mouth with hers, moaning against his lips as the first tremors of her orgasm began to ripple through her.

jimmy swallowed her sounds, his kiss turning desperate and messy as he felt her tightening around him. "that's it," he encouraged between kisses, "fuck, you squeezin' me so good."

her body tensed, every nerve ending electrified as her orgasm approached. jimmy's rhythm grew erratic, his breathing harsh against her neck.

"goddamn," jimmy groaned against her lips, his rhythm faltering slightly as her pussy gripped him tighter. "i'm about to cum, baby. fuck, i can't—i can't hold it.

his thrusts became desperate, frantic. asia clung to him, her mind spinning between ecstasy and guilt. trinity's face flashed behind her closed eyelids—trinity, who was sleeping just down the hall, whose boyfriend was currently buried inside her. the shame should have doused her desire, but somehow it only intensified the forbidden thrill coursing through her veins.

this is the last time, she promised herself, the same empty vow she'd made that first night. just one more time.

then never again.

no matter how asia felt, the way trinity had dismissed her earlier, talked down to her in front of everyone. the casual cruelty in her voice when she'd called website design "not even a real job." trinity was still her roommate.

and she knew trinity would vow the rest of her fucking life to make asia's a living hell if she knew what was going on behind this door. unaware of the betrayal happening against asia's bedroom door. the guilt sliced through her pleasure for a brief moment.

but fuck it if, she didn't want to scream so loud at the way he was fucking her.

before she could process his words, jimmy pressed a second finger alongside the first into her ass, stretching her deliciously. the dual penetration—his thick length filling her pussy while his fingers worked her other entrance—pushed her beyond coherent thought.

the dual penetration sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through her core. her eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm flooded her core. s

he squirted around his dick, her release soaking them both as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. the hot liquid ran down his thighs, dripping onto the hardwood floor beneath them. the intensity of her squirting orgasm took them both by surprise—jimmy's eyes widening as he felt the hot rush of her release bathing him.

she never did that...for anyone.

"ah—i gotta pull out," he panted against her neck, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "shit, i can't stop—you feel too fucking good. that's it, baby. keep cumin for me. that's right."

he tried to withdraw, but asia's legs tightened around him instinctively, keeping him buried deep inside her. his let out choked pants against her neck, as his hips stuttered from her cunt milking him. she felt the hot spurts of his release, filling her completely as he came with a muffled groan against her neck.

she couldn't think. the pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. her body trembled uncontrollably in his arms, aftershocks rippling through her as jimmy continued to drain himself.

for several heartbeats, they remained frozen in that position—her back pressed against the door, legs wrapped around his waist, his face pressed deeply in her neck. jimmy's fingers slowly withdrew from her back entrance, his softening cock still buried inside her as he pressed gentle kisses along her jawline.

reality began to seep back in as their breathing slowed. the weight of what they'd done—again—settled over asia like a shroud.

jimmy's breath was hot against her ear as he held her against the door, their bodies still joined, both slick with sweat and their combined release. the aftermath of their passion hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

"tell me," he whispered, his voice a rough command that sent shivers down her spine. "tell me how good you felt."

malasia turned her face away, shame burning through her even as her body still trembled with aftershocks. jimmy wouldn't have it. his hand came up to grip her chin, turning her face back toward him.

"nah. look at me when i'm talking to you. tell me how good I made you feel. be honest."

her voice caught in her throat. "jimmy, please—"

tears welled in her eyes, "it felt good," she whispered, the words dragged from somewhere deep inside her. "so good."

a malicious smirk spread across his face. "yeah? what else? tell me how you like it."

"i—i liked when you…" she swallowed hard, the confession burning her throat like acid. "when you filled me up...when you were so deep i couldn't think straight. i've never—" she broke off, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"never what, mama?" he pressed, his free hand sliding up to cup her breast, thumb circling her nipple through the thin fabric of her tank top.

"i never came that hard before. so much." she admitted. her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face

his eyes darkened with renewed desire. "that's my girl," he murmured, leaning forward to capture her lips in a possessive kiss. "you were made for me. this pussy was made for me, mama."

jimmy noticed her shudder. he knew she was about to break down into another hysteria of tears like the last time. he needed to talk to her. he knew he couldn't say it right there.

he navigated through the darkness of her bedroom toward the en-suite bathroom, his steps steady and confident, as his softening dick was still slotted inside her. each step sending tiny jolts of pleasure through her oversensitive body.

"what are you—" he silenced her with a hard kiss as he shouldered open the bathroom door. the cold marble counter shocked her heated skin as he set her down, their bodies still connected.

the position pushed him impossibly deeper, drawing a gasp from her lips that he swallowed with another kiss.

with one hand, he flicked on the bathroom light, the sudden brightness making asia blink rapidly as her eyes adjusted. the mirror above the sink reflected their joined bodies—her legs wrapped around his waist, his large hands supporting her weight, both of them slick with sweat and the evidence of their passion.

in the harsh fluorescent light, malasia could see everything clearly now—especially, the possessive gleam in jimmy's eyes. the mirror behind her reflected her flushed face, her swollen lips, her hair wild from his hands.

his hand came up to cradle her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone with unexpected tenderness. then his grip tightened, fingers pressing into her jaw as he forced her to meet his gaze.

"y'know zuri and nia were talking about setting you up with zuri's brother?" jimmy said suddenly, his voice casual but his eyes sharp as blades. "they think you need to get out more. meet someone."

asia's eyes widened in surprise. "what? no, i—"

"you think i'm gonna let that happen?" jimmy continued, his thumb catching a tear as it rolled down her face. "nah. that ain't happening."

a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. expecting her to stay...in whatever bubble she was in? alone at that, all while he was in a relationship was fucking crazy.

his free hand slid between their bodies to where they were still joined, his fingers circling her sensitive clit. asia gasped, her body responding instantly despite her emotional turmoil.

"see how yo body knows?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "how it recognizes who it belongs to?"

"jimmy," she whimpered, her voice breaking on his name.

"you belong to me, yea?" he demanded, his fingers pressing more insistently against her swollen bud while his other hand maintained its grip on her face. "say it."

asia sobbed quietly, torn between the pleasure building again in her core and the guilt crushing her chest. she nodded weakly, unable to form words through her tears.

"nah, that ain't enough," jimmy insisted, his voice hardening. "i need t'hear you say it. who you belong to?"

"you," she finally whispered, the admission dragged from somewhere deep inside her. "i belong to you, jimmy."

satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, his grip on her face softening slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"that's my girl," he murmured against her lips. "that's what I needed to hear."

asia's mind raced, thoughts swirling chaotically despite the renewed desire coursing through her veins. she couldn't deny the physical connection between them—how her body responded to his touch like it had been crafted specifically for his hands—but the reality of their situation couldn't be ignored.

the truth of it burned through her veins like acid—she did belong to him, in ways she couldn't articulate even to herself. Her body had surrendered completely, her will crumbling beneath the force of his desire and her own dangerous need.

asia found her voice, small and broken. "but you…you belong to trinity."

the words hung between them, the elephant that had been in the room since that first night. the betrayal they both participated in, the trust they violated with every touch, every kiss, every shared climax.

jimmy's expression didn't change. his eyes remained fixed on hers, unblinking, unflinching. "so what?"

the casual dismissal hit her like a physical blow. two simple words that revealed the true depth of his character—or lack thereof. She stared at him, seeing him clearly for the first time despite the weeks of obsessing over him, dreaming of him, running from him.

"so what?" he repeated, his thumb wiping

"so what?" she stared at him in disbelief, "are you fucking serious? so fucking what?"

his expression shifted, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. his grip on her jaw tightened fractionally before he released a low, dismissive laugh.

"so what?" he asked again, "that doesn't change what's between us. what's happening right here." he shifted his hips, causing her to shut her eyes tightly, reminding her he was still buried deeply inside her.

the bathroom mirror reflects their entangled bodies—her perched on the counter, legs still wrapped loosely around his waist, his powerful frame standing between her thighs. the image is undeniably erotic— had this all been different; if he was her man, she'd be ready to let him fuck her right on the counter.

but all she feels now is hollow.

"how can you say that?" she asks, another tear escaping despite her effort to hold it back. "how can this be separate? you're her boyfriend, jimmy. this isn't—this isn't right. i'm done doing this."

jimmy leans closer, his breath warm against her lips. "life ain't about right and wrong, ma. it's about what feels good." his thumb traces her bottom lip, still swollen from his kisses. "and this feels good, don't it? me inside you? the way i make you cum?"

he rolls his hips slightly, causing her breath to hitch. her body responds traitorously, inner walls clenching around him even as her mind rebels against his words.

"that's not the point," she insists, trying to ignore the way her body still hums with residual pleasure. "we can't keep doing this. i can't keep doing this."

"you said that last time, remember?," jimmy points out, his smirk growing wider. his hand slides between their bodies, finding her sensitive clit with practiced ease. "yet here we are again."

she tries to shift away from his touch, but the bathroom counter gives her nowhere to retreat. his fingers circle her swollen bud with deliberate pressure as his dick begins to harden inside her again.

"jimmy, i mean it this time," she protests, her voice strained as her body betrays her once more. the tears have dried on her cheeks, replaced by a flush of unwanted arousal. "we can't—i won't—"

but her words falter as he begins to move his hips in slow, measured thrusts. each drag of his length against her sensitive walls sends electric currents racing up her spine despite her determination to resist.

"i thought you didn't want this, mama?" he whispers against her ear, his breath hot against her skin, "why you so wet right now? hm?"

asia turns her face away, shame burning through her even as pleasure builds again in her pussy. "that's just physical," she manages to say, the words sounding hollow even to her own ears. "it doesn't mean anything."

jimmy's laugh is low, dangerous. "then let's make a deal, mama." His pace increases slightly, the wet sounds of their connection filling the bathroom's tiled space. "if you don't cum for me, one mo' time—right now—i'll leave you alone. for good."

she looks at him then, searching his face for any sign of deception. "you're lying."

"nah, I'm serious." his thumb applies more pressure to her clit as his hips maintain their relentless rhythm. "no more texts. no mo' visits. nothin."

the offer dangling before her feels like salvation and torture simultaneously. asia closes her eyes, determined to resist the pleasure building within her. she thinks of trinity sleeping down the hall, of the betrayal that has become a habit, of the self-respect she's sacrificed for these stolen moments.

she tries everything—mentally reciting website code, counting backward from one hundred, focusing on the cold press of the counter against her thighs—anything to distract her.

jimmy seemed to read her mind, changing his angle slightly to brush against her most sensitive spot with each pump.

"that's cheating!," she gasped, her thighs beginning to tremble despite her best efforts, "oh god—i can't—"

she could feel herself getting wetter, her inner walls gripping him tighter with each thrust.

"cum for me, baby. i'm right here, witchu." jimmy encouraged, embracing her into a deep bear hug, "lemme feel it."

she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. but her body had other plans. the pressure built to an unbearable crescendo, her resistance crumbling beneath the relentless assault of sensation. with a broken cry, she felt her stomach tighten before a warmth washed over them and she gushed over his dick.

his eyes gleamed with victory, that infuriating smirk spreading across his face. "your mouth say one thing, but your body tell me truth every time."

asia buried her face into his neck, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. Shame and pleasure warred within her, neither willing to claim complete victory. her thighs still trembled from the force of her orgasm, and her cunt still clamping tightly onto his dick.

jimmy pulled out of her with deliberate slowness, savoring the whimper that escaped her lips at the sudden emptiness. their combined releases trickled down her inner thighs, marking her in the most primal way possible.

he stepped back, admiring the sight of her—disheveled, flushed, thoroughly claimed. he bit down on his lip at the sight of her red swollen cunt leaking their combined essence onto the counter.

with unexpected gentleness, jimmy slid his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her from the counter. her legs felt like jelly, unable to support her weight. he carried her the few steps to the toilet, settling himself on the closed lid before positioning her on his lap.

"there you go," he murmured, his large hands spanning her waist. his dick pressed against her ass, already hardening again despite their multiple rounds. "Now you got a choice to make, baby."

asia remained motionless in his lap, her mind a battlefield of conflicting desires. the rational part of her screamed to get up, to walk away, to end this destructive pattern once and for all.

but another part—darker, hungrier—wanted to sink onto him again, to chase that oblivion only he seemed able to provide.

jimmy's hand came down on her ass with a sharp smack, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. his hands gripped her ass possessively, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he guided her over his still-hard length.

his words hung in the air between them, a gauntlet thrown down with perfect confidence that she wouldn't—couldn't—pick it up. his hands moved to her hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles on her skin, neither pushing nor pulling, simply waiting.

her breath came in ragged pants as she battled with herself. trinity's face flashed in her mind—the dismissive way she'd talked about asia's career, the casual cruelty in her tone. then Jimmy's words from earlier: "so what?"

malasia stared down at him, her mind a battlefield of contradictions. this was her chance—the moment to reclaim her dignity, to walk away from this destructive pattern. all she had to do was stand up, step back, tell him to leave.

instead, she found herself frozen in place, caught between desire and self-loathing. jimmy's hands rested lightly on her hips now, neither forcing her down nor holding her in place. the choice was entirely hers.

"clock's ticking, mama," he murmured, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hipbones. "what's it gonna be?"

she looks into his eyes, searching for some sign that this is wrong, that they should stop, but all she finds is that same hungry desire that mirrors her own. time stretches between them like a taffy taffy, seconds turning to minutes.

asia crashes her lips against jimmy's, pouring all her frustration and desire into the kiss. it's messy and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. his hands slide up her back, tangling in her hair to hold her closer as they devour each other.

with trembling fingers, she reaches down between their bodies, wrapping her hand around his thick length. he's hot and hard against her palm, pulsing with a life of his own. the familiar weight of him sends a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

she positions him at her entrance, feeling the blunt head press against her swollen folds. despite everything they've already done tonight, her body still craves him with an intensity that frightens her. slowly, agonizingly, she sinks down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he fills her completely.

a small hiss escapes her lips at the delicious stretch, the slight burn of her sensitive tissues accommodating his size again.

"easy, mama," jimmy whispers against her lips

"shut up," she gasps as she continues to rock her hips.

she didn't wanna hear his voice. she didn't even wanna see that stupid dumbass smirk on his face. she wanted to slap him, but fuck him at the same time.

jimmy smirked, his hands gripping her hips as she rode him, his eyes darkening with renewed lust. the bathroom's fluorescent light cast harsh shadows across his features, highlighting the predatory satisfaction in his expression. his dick throbbed inside her, growing impossibly harder with each bounce of her body.

"that's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "show me how much you want it."

asia's thighs trembled with the effort of lifting herself, her movements becoming more frantic despite her earlier protests.

"i hate you," she whispered, the words lacking conviction as her body betrayed her. "i hate what you make me do."

jimmy's laugh was dark, knowing. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, thumbs pinching her nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top. "your mouth say one thing, but this pussy? it tells me everything i needa know."

he thrust upward to meet her downward motion, hitting spots inside her that made coherent thought impossible. the bathroom filled with the obscene sounds of their connection—skin against skin, the wet suction of her arousal coating him with each movement.

jimmy's triumphant smile cuts through her like a knife. he's won.

they both know it.

"that's right," he murmurs, his hands guiding her hips in a slow, torturous rhythm. "take what's yours, baby.

his thrusts became more insistent, more demanding. the toilet seat creaked beneath them, the porcelain cool against his thighs as she continued to ride him. her movements grew erratic, desperate, as pleasure built to unbearable heights.

"you mine now," he whispers against her lips. "say it."

malasia begins to rock her hips, setting a slow, torturous pace that has them both breathing hard. "i'm yours," she admits, the words tearing something loose inside her.

tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

but whether from pleasure or shame? she couldn't say.

jimmy captures her mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue sweeping past her lips to claim her completely. his hands guide her movements, lifting her slightly before bringing her back down with increasing force.

"tomorrow," he pants against her neck, "you're coming to my place."

malasia's rhythm falters. "what? i can't—"

his hand comes up to grip her throat, not squeezing but establishing control. "not askin, ma. tellin. trin's got that double shift. you'll come to my spot. spend the day with me, in my bed."

the image set off a fire in her. hours spent in his sheets, nothing but them alone?

asia whimpers at the fantasy, imagining herself sprawled across his sheets, legs spread wide as he takes her again and again. On his kitchen counter, in his shower, bent over his couch—marking every surface as theirs.

every surface he's marked with trinity.

"jimmy—"

"look at me," jimmy demanded, his fingers tightening in her hair. "i wanna see yo face when you cum for me again."

asia's eyes locked with his, unable to look away as the coil of tension in her belly wound tighter. his hand slipped between their bodies, thumb finding her swollen clit, pressing circles into it.

her inner walls clench around him, pussy fluttering with the first tremors of release, "jimmy, ah—" she gasps, her voice breaking on his name, "it feels so good."

the pressure builds between her thighs, that familiar tightening deep in her core. her hips move faster, grinding down on him with desperate need. his fingers work magic on her clit, the dual sensations overwhelming her senses.

"that's it," he growls, watching her face contort with pleasure. "let go for me, baby. flood this dick again."

she can't hold back anymore. hot liquid gushes from her center, soaking them both as she squirts uncontrollably. his grip tightening on her hips as he holds her in place, letting her release wash over him.

jimmy watched her come undone, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he felt her release coat him once more. "that's my girl,"

her body convulses around him, inner muscles gripping his length in rhythmic pulses as she rides out the most intense orgasm of her life.

jimmy holds her through it, his strong arms supporting her trembling body as she comes undone. his lips press kisses along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and across her face.

"be ready by 10 tomorrow," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against hers. "after i drop trin off at work."

the mention of trinity's name sends a fresh wave of guilt crashing through asia. her body stiffens in his arms, the afterglow of her orgasm instantly tainted. jimmy feels the change immediately, his fingers tightening on her jaw.

"nah, stop that shit," he commands, forcing her to meet his gaze seeing tears well up in her eyes. "stop thinking 'bout that. focus on us. what we got right here."

she tries to look away, but his grip is firm, "there is no us," she whispers, the words lacking conviction even to her own ears.

asia's eyes fill with fresh tears, but jimmy wipes them away before they can fall. the actions of her betrayal filing her chest again.

"pack a bag too," his voice dropping to that honey-smooth tone that makes her insides liquify despite her better judgment.

"a bag?" she repeated

"might keep you there for a lil minute." his hands slide down to cup her ass, squeezing possessively

asia nods, defeated and aroused in equal measure. she was unable to form words as conflicting emotions war within her chest. desire and shame. anticipation and guilt. hunger and self-loathing.

her gaze drops to where they're still joined, noticing the absence of the familiar warmth that should have followed his release.

"you didn't cum again," she observes quietly, her gaze pinned on them still intwined.

"that's what you wanted, mama?" he lifts her slightly, his still-hard length slipping from her body with a wet sound that makes her face flush.

he stands, lifting her easily in his strong arms. she feels boneless, utterly spent, as he carries her the sit on the counter again.

asia watches as he stands and dampens a washcloth at the sink. the fluorescent light catches the defined muscles of his back, the strength in his shoulders as he wrings out the excess water.

the warm cloth touches her sensitive flesh, and she hisses, her eyes clinching shut at the contact. jimmy works methodically, cleaning away the evidence of their coupling with unexpected gentleness.

his fingers brush against her tender folds through the cloth, sending aftershocks of pleasure through her overstimulated nerves.

"i know, baby, i know." he soothes, pressing kisses across her cheeks., "you so pretty, mama."

his praise washes over her, a balm to her conflicted soul. despite everything—the betrayal, the guilt, the shame—part of her preens under his approval, desperate for more.

jimmy lifts her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as if she weighs nothing. her head falls naturally to his shoulder, her body boneless with exhaustion and spent passion. he carries her from the bathroom to her bedroom, navigating through the darkness with surprising sureness.

the sheets are cool against her heated skin as he lays her down with unexpected care. asia watches through heavy-lidded eyes as he retrieves her discarded panties from the floor.

"lift," he instructs softly, and she raises her hips automatically, allowing him to slide the cotton fabric up her legs and over her thighs.

jimmy sits on the edge of the bed, his weight creating a dip in the mattress that rolls her slightly toward him. his large hand comes to rest on her hip, sliding down to cup her ass through her panties. he gives a gentle squeeze, jiggling the flesh playfully before bending to capture her mouth.

his tongue flicks inside, tasting her deeply as though committing her flavor to memory. when he pulls back, his eyes are dark and possessive.

"ten," he reminds her, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "be ready."

asia nods, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, making her thoughts heavy and slow. she knows she should protest, should end this before it consumes her completely, but the words won't come.

instead, she reaches up, tangling her fingers in his hair bringing his lips back to hers. with one last peck, jimmy kissed her forehead before standing to leave her room quietly.

asia collapses against the pillows. the scent of him lingers on her skin despite his efforts to clean her. she pulls the comforter over her naked body, seeking warmth that has nothing to do with temperature.

tomorrow. 10am. his place.

she reaches for her phone, her fingers hover over the screen, tempted to search for available apartments in the area. she should move out. should remove herself from this toxic triangle before it consumes her completely.

"just one more time," she whispers to the empty room, "tomorrow, and then I'm done."

she closes her eyes, knowing sleep will be elusive, but hoping for at least a few hours of peace before morning comes.

before she makes yet another choice she'll both treasure and regret.

before she becomes even more his than she already is.

🏷️: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @luuvprincess @bloodlineslut @levissslutt @punksyeet @fafomama @trippinsorrows

-

(series tags) @sisifromthed @amandairene88 @msbluehaz3 @fearlesschimera @fafomama @rose-bliss @duhitzkay380 @transparentphantomface @isabella-2025 @fairysoulja

xoxo. cleo.

[luvashli]

THE BET

Synopsis -> Heeseung, the campus heartthrob known for his charm and devil-may-care attitude, makes a bet with his friends: he’ll win you over in just one week. However, as he spends more time with you, his cocky facade starts to crack. What starts as a game becomes a test of emotions neither of you expected.

PAIRING: nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE: oneshot, College au, romance, angst, slowburn, drama

STARTED: 1/21/2025

STATUS: complete

WC: 4.2 K

The whispers about Heeseung started the first day you set foot on campus. “The guy’s a legend,” someone had said during freshman orientation. “He can charm anyone.”

You hadn’t paid much attention then. Sure, you’d seen him around—leaning against his car in the parking lot, laughing with friends as if the world was his playground. He was tall, undeniably handsome, with the kind of effortless confidence that made people gravitate toward him. But you didn’t like people like him. People who lived their lives on autopilot, coasting on good looks and charm.

You prided yourself on being different. Confident, independent, and no-nonsense, you had no time for boys who thought they could play games with your heart. Your focus was on your studies, your goals, and your small circle of friends who valued authenticity over popularity.

But everything changed on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in the campus library.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Jay said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, already tired of his friend’s antics. They were hanging out in one of the campus lounges, killing time between classes. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo—all of them notorious for their friendly but reckless behavior—were egging him on as usual.

“You’ve won over every girl on campus,” Jake added. “Except for her.”

Heeseung frowned, glancing across the room where you sat, headphones on, flipping through a thick textbook. You looked focused, completely unaware of the world around you.

“Y/N?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s untouchable,” Sunghoon said with a shrug. “I heard she turned down three guys last semester, all of them way more charming than you.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning back. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a bet,” Jay said, his grin widening. “Seven days. You get her to fall for you, and dinner’s on us for a month.”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you intrigued him. You were different from the girls who usually threw themselves at him. Confident, uninterested, completely in your own world.

“Fine,” Heeseung said, grinning. “Seven days. Watch and learn.”

Day One

The rain had started to pour outside, the steady rhythm tapping against the library windows. You were lost in your reading, trying to make sense of a particularly dense paragraph in your sociology textbook, when a shadow fell across your desk.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and there he was—Lee Heeseung, in all his cocky glory.

“Yes, I mind,” you said curtly, turning back to your book.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, a lazy smile on his face.

“Y/N, right?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, leaning forward slightly. “I have my ways.”

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed. “Look, I’m busy. Whatever game you’re playing, go play it somewhere else.”

But Heeseung didn’t budge. Instead, he spent the next hour pretending to study, stealing glances at you and making small comments that made you want to scream.

When you finally packed up your things and left, he followed you outside.

“Hey, wait,” he called out.

“What now?” you snapped, turning around.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence faltering. “Let me walk you home. It’s raining.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. But in the end, you let him.

Day Two

The sun had barely risen, casting a warm, golden glow over campus as you settled into your favorite corner of the coffee shop. It was your sacred morning ritual—black coffee, a half-eaten muffin, and your notebook open to a page of neat, organized notes. The world outside could be chaos, but here, with the hum of coffee machines and quiet chatter, you had control.

Heeseung, however, seemed hellbent on disrupting that control.

You didn’t even notice him at first, too engrossed in highlighting an important section of your notes. It wasn’t until you caught the faint whiff of cologne—something subtle but maddeningly alluring—that you glanced up.

“Morning,” he said, already sliding into the seat across from you as if he belonged there.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you make a habit of invading people’s mornings uninvited?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Only when they look like they need company.“

“I don’t,” you replied flatly, going back to your notes.

He didn’t move. Instead, he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know, you’re kind of infamous around here.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “Infamous?”

“For being the girl who doesn’t fall for anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity. “It’s impressive.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let me guess. That’s your opening line for every girl you’re trying to charm?”

“Not every girl,” he said with a smirk. “Just the ones who don’t seem to like me.”

Despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch upward. You quickly masked it with a sip of coffee, trying to remind yourself that Heeseung was nothing but trouble.

“What do you want, Heeseung?” you asked finally, your tone sharp.

“To get to know you,” he said, his voice softening.

You weren’t sure if it was the sincerity in his tone or the way his eyes seemed to hold yours for a moment too long, but something about his words caught you off guard. You shook your head, determined not to let him get under your skin.

“Not interested,” you said, closing your notebook and standing up.

Heeseung watched as you gathered your things, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. Just as you were about to walk away, he called out:

“See you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t turn back, but his words echoed in your mind long after you left the coffee shop.

Later that day, you found yourself replaying the encounter in your head, annoyed that he had managed to occupy even a fraction of your thoughts. Heeseung was just another cocky guy who thought he could charm his way into anything. You’d seen it a thousand times before.

So why did the memory of his stupid grin make your chest tighten?

On the other side of campus, Heeseung sat with his friends, half-listening to their conversation while his mind wandered back to you.

“She’s different,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to her twice.”

“Yeah, but…” Heeseung trailed off, unable to find the right words. You were a challenge, sure, but it was more than that. The fire in your eyes, the way you held yourself like you didn’t need anyone—that was what fascinated him.

“Just don’t screw it up,” Jake said with a grin. “You’ve got five days left, and she’s not going to make it easy.”

Heeseung smirked, but inside, he felt the first pang of doubt. This wasn’t just a game anymore, and he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

Day Three

You told yourself you were overthinking things. Heeseung was just another guy trying to get your attention, and if you ignored him long enough, he'd eventually get bored and move on. But when you walked into the campus library that afternoon, the last thing you expected was to find him there—leaning against a bookshelf in the fiction section, skimming through a book like he belonged there.

You froze for a moment, cursing your luck. He glanced up almost immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. “Didn’t take you for a library kind of person.”

You rolled your eyes, clutching your notebook tighter against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

“Do you just… follow me around campus now?” you asked, your tone sharp.

Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, I have other hobbies besides annoying you.”

You stepped closer, trying to find the book you came for. Heeseung didn’t move, his presence radiating far too much confidence for someone standing in your way.

“Do you mind?” you asked pointedly, gesturing toward the shelf behind him.

Heeseung glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “What are you looking for?”

“None of your business,” you snapped.

“Fair enough,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow. “Go ahead.”

You ignored him and quickly grabbed the book you needed, but his gaze lingered on you as you tried to focus.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re kind of fascinating.”

You sighed, turning to face him. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, his grin widening. “See you around, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. Heeseung was persistent, you’d give him that. But there was something about the way he looked at you—like he actually wanted to figure you out—that made your defenses waver, if only for a moment.

Day Four

It was late in the evening, and the campus was unusually quiet. You were walking back to your dorm, lost in thought, when you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, already annoyed, and sure enough, there he was.

“Are you seriously stalking me now?” you asked, stopping in your tracks.

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I was heading this way anyway.”

You narrowed your eyes but kept walking. He fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual cocky demeanor oddly subdued.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the quiet night settling between you like a fragile truce.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than you expected.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, glancing at him. “I just don’t trust you.”

Heeseung nodded, as if he’d been expecting that answer. “Fair enough.”

You didn’t know why, but his lack of a comeback caught you off guard. For once, he wasn’t trying to charm you or get under your skin—he was just… there.

As you reached your dorm, he stopped and turned to you. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Goodnight.”

And for the first time, you realized you weren’t entirely dreading seeing him again.

Day Five

By now, you’d started noticing Heeseung everywhere. In the coffee shop, at the library, even in passing conversations with your friends. It was like he’d found a way to exist on the edges of your world without completely intruding.

That evening, you were sitting on a bench outside the student center, flipping through your notes, when Heeseung appeared again. This time, he wasn’t smirking or teasing—he looked almost… nervous.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside you.

You considered saying no but sighed instead, scooting over to make room.

He sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I know I can be annoying,” he said finally, his voice low. “But I’m not a bad guy, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his sudden honesty. “Then why act like one?”

Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s easier that way. People don’t expect much from you if they think you’re just messing around.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to reconcile the cocky persona he usually wore with the vulnerability he was showing now.

“Maybe you should stop pretending,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out if you really meant it.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” he said.

And in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It was the sixth day when everything fell apart.

You were walking across campus when you overheard them—Heeseung and his friends, laughing about the bet.

“Did you really think she’d fall for it?” Jay said, grinning. “Man, you’re good.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned the corner, and there they were, laughing as if it was all just a game.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice icy.

He turned around, his smile fading when he saw your expression.

“Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare try to explain. I should’ve known this was all a joke to you.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Save it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to hear it.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving him standing there, his heart sinking.

The knock on your door came just as you were about to turn in for the night. You frowned, glancing at the clock—it was nearing midnight. Pulling on a hoodie over your tank top, you padded to the door, already bracing yourself for some random excuse from your roommate or a delivery mix-up.

But when you opened the door, there he was.

Heeseung stood on the other side, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His hair was a mess, as though he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, and his eyes… They weren’t cocky or playful like usual. They were wide, hesitant, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet—almost pleading.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to shut the door in his face. But something about the way he looked, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, made you pause.

“Fine,” you said reluctantly, stepping aside.

He walked in, but his usual confidence was absent. He didn’t try to sprawl on your couch or crack a joke. Instead, he hovered near the door, hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Y/N…” Heeseung started, then stopped, as if the words were too heavy to say.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter. “If you’re just here to waste my time—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, cutting you off. His voice cracked, and it made you freeze.

“What?” you said, your tone softer now, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “For the bet. For being an idiot. For… for hurting you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “You’re really going to apologize now? After everything?”

“I know,” he said quickly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I know it’s late, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I… I couldn’t just leave it like this. You have no idea how much I hate myself for what I did.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened at the sight of him like this—so undone, so unlike the Heeseung you thought you knew.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice trembling. “At first, it was just… stupid. I wanted to win, I wanted to prove I could get to you. But then…” He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Then I got to know you. And suddenly, it wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was about you. And I ruined it.”

You stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Heeseung’s voice dropped, almost a whisper now. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear, Y/N. Just… tell me what to do.”

The vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung, the guy who seemed untouchable, was standing in your apartment, completely unguarded and entirely at your mercy.

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite yourself. “How do I know this isn’t just another game?”

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer, hesitating as though afraid you’d push him away. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to be better,” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I can’t lose that.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. The anger, the hurt, the lingering attraction—it all came to a head as he closed the distance between you, his hand hovering just inches from yours.

“I don’t want your words, Heeseung,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want proof.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he’d retreat. But then he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with yours as he looked at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Then let me show you,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

And before you could think, before you could push him away or pull him closer, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was desperate, raw, filled with all the tension and unspoken emotions that had been building between you. His hands cupped your face, almost reverently, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

You wanted to stay angry. You wanted to shove him back and tell him he didn’t deserve you. But the way he kissed you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world, made it impossible to pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath was shaky.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll prove it to you every single day if I have to.”

For the first time, you saw the real Heeseung—not the cocky playboy or the overconfident charmer, but the broken boy underneath, desperate for a second chance.

And for the first time, you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d give him one.

It had been a few weeks since Heeseung's late-night apology at your apartment, and things had undeniably shifted between you both. What started as a tangled mess of hurt and confusion had slowly transformed into something new, something unexpected—something real.

You had no idea what would happen next. You still had questions. You still had doubts. But when Heeseung had come to you, laid bare his vulnerabilities, and shown you his true self, it was hard to ignore the connection you’d always had. Something had cracked inside you, and though the wound was still fresh, it had given way to the possibility of something more.

And so, you moved forward, cautiously at first, but with each passing day, your trust in him grew. The dynamic between you had changed completely, but it wasn’t what you expected. Heeseung wasn’t just the cocky, confident guy he once was—he was more patient now, more introspective. It was clear that he was trying to prove that he meant what he said, and you found yourself falling for him again, in a way that was different. It wasn’t the infatuation of the bet or the thrill of the game; this time, it was something deeper, quieter—something more meaningful.

He still had his playful side, of course. But when you looked at him now, you saw the layers that were once hidden beneath the surface. You saw the side of him that had always been there—the side that cared, the side that loved fiercely, and the side that wanted to make things right.

You didn’t have to say the words out loud to feel it—you could see it in the way he looked at you. Heeseung’s eyes no longer held that playful arrogance; instead, they were filled with warmth, tenderness, and sometimes, a hint of uncertainty. It was a vulnerability that you never would’ve expected from him, but it made him more real, more human.

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the common room, sharing a quiet dinner, you caught him looking at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

“You’re staring,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Heeseung smirked, but it was different now. “I can’t help it,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’re kind of… amazing.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. It had taken time, but it was clear now—there was no more pretense. Heeseung had let his guard down, and so had you.

But as much as you had grown closer, there were still moments where you felt the weight of the past. You still remembered the bet, the hurt, the betrayal. But Heeseung didn’t shy away from these moments; he acknowledged them, apologized again when needed, and showed you, through his actions, that he was working to be better.

It wasn’t long before the others started to notice the subtle shift in your relationship with Heeseung. They weren’t blind—how could they be? The playful banter between you two had transformed into something much quieter, something that wasn’t as easily hidden.

At first, they were confused, unsure of what had changed. They had seen you and Heeseung bicker before, but this time, the air between you both was different. It was as if something unspoken was lingering, a secret that neither of you could hide.

One afternoon, you were all gathered in the living room of their shared apartment, hanging out after classes. The guys were being their usual selves—loud, playful, and full of energy. You were sitting next to Heeseung, your knees brushing together as you chatted with Sunghoon about an upcoming project.

But Heeseung’s hand was resting on your thigh, just enough to let you know he was there, a silent reassurance. It was subtle, but it wasn’t unnoticed by the others.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between you two. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you two?”

You tensed slightly, but Heeseung leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxed. “What do you mean?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips. But you could see the way his eyes flicked to you, a little too aware of how the conversation was turning.

“You two are… different,” Sunghoon said slowly, his gaze lingering on the hand that Heeseung had placed on your thigh. “You’re not acting like you used to. So, what’s up?”

Jake, who had been quiet up until now, smirked. “I’m just waiting for one of you to break the silence and admit it already.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, but instead of retreating, he met your eyes, as if silently asking if he should say anything. You sighed, shaking your head slightly.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” you said, your tone casual but with a hint of amusement. “We’ve been through a lot, and we’re…”

“Together,” Heeseung finished, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something—nervousness, maybe?—lingering in his tone.

The room fell into a stunned silence. You could practically hear the gears turning in their heads as they processed your words.

Jay, who had been leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “So, wait, you’re telling us that you two are, like… official?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, Sunoo broke in, his grin wide. “Well, it’s about damn time!”

The others erupted into laughter, but you could tell that there was a mixture of surprise and understanding in their eyes. They hadn’t expected this, not after the way things had started, but they could see the change in both of you.

“You two are cute,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head with a smile. “I guess you’re not the cocky, arrogant guy you once were, huh, Heeseung?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but there was a genuine smile on his face. “Nope,” he said with a mock sigh. “Guess I’m whipped now.”

You snorted, reaching over to nudge him. “Shut up,” you muttered, but there was warmth in your voice.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m glad you two are happy,” Jake said, giving you both a thumbs-up. “But seriously, Heeseung, don’t mess it up this time.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t, I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.”

You chuckled softly, your gaze softening as you looked at Heeseung. There was no doubt now—things had changed, and for the better. The trust between you had grown, and so had your feelings. It wasn’t going to be perfect, and there would still be bumps along the way, but you both knew you were in this together.

And as the conversation continued, you realized just how much you had both changed since that first bet, that first moment of rivalry. You had gone from strangers to something much deeper—partners, lovers, friends—no longer bound by the past but by what you had created together.

And for the first time in a long while, you were certain that whatever came next, you were ready to face it with Heeseung by your side.

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[wastefulreverie]

fixed point

“Would you like to know how much time you have left?” Clockwork asked.

Danny had never wished more that he’d died in something with pockets so he could hide his shaking hands. The endless ticking in the lair—hundreds of hands TICK TICK TICK -ing in perfect sync—had never sounded so ominous.

“I—” his voice rattled his throat, a raw thing “—I didn’t think you gave spoilers.”

With an absent spin of their staff, Clockwork shifted from adult to child and said nothing. Dread hung heavy in the air, Clockwork’s unblinking stare piercing through it all. Danny pointedly did not make eye contact. Instead focusing on the oscillating hands of the wall behind them.

He took a breath.

“Will it make it easier, knowing?”

Clockwork blinked once, face betraying nothing.

Dammit.

He wasn’t an idiot. There was really only one outcome of this conversation. Just as there had been the day he’d first pulled on his jumpsuit, walking—tripping—through the threshold. Life snuffed out of him in less than a second.

He brought his shaking hands together and met Clockwork’s even gaze.

And answered.

Thirteen days.

Seven hours.

Thirty-six minutes.

It was somehow both longer and shorter than he’d expected.

It was also a weight off his shoulders, at least in the beginning. It wouldn’t happen any earlier than the date Clockwork had recounted that night. Thirteen days of freedom. Peace. Liberation.

Because if he thought too much about the length of thirteen days, how three-hundred or so hours wasn’t enough time— it’s not fucking FAIR —he would be swallowed by the crushing anxiety that made its permanent home in his stomach.

So there was that.

He didn’t bother telling his friends. They were already all on edge, but if he could act like all was well he could ease their worries. Because ultimately they were just worried about him, and if he was fine they would be too.

He did, however, make contingency plans. Farewell videos on a USB drive taped to the underside of his bed.

He wanted Clockwork to be wrong. Some nights he laid awake, trying his damndest to find a way off this track. This self-fulfilling prophecy. But there was nothing. That moment had already passed with that stupid news broadcast that had glued him to the couch, shaking, as his parents had shouted and jeered at the screen. Dismissive. Furious. Invested.

They hadn’t noticed when he pushed himself off the couch and stumbled, shaking, to the bathroom to purge the contents of his stomach.

It was a miracle he’d only gotten a two-day suspension for slugging Wes in the face in front of the whole cafeteria. Even more so that no one had pieced it together from that.

No one saw him. But they would. When it was too late.

He couldn’t stop it. But as he didn’t acknowledge it in the waking world it wouldn’t exist. So he reserved his existential crises for when there was nothing to distract him from the looming, inevitable deadline.

He wished he could tell Mr. Lancer that whenever he was given detention that afternoon.

On the night of the twelfth day, he didn’t sleep a wink. No amount of coffee could keep his head above his desk that morning, and so, Danny spent his final hour in detention. He considered skipping. Detention was not the place for everything to come to an end.

But wouldn’t leaving—deviating from his normal routine—up the chances of putting events in motion?

Avoidance was his specialty, after all.

Jazz could write a paper on his coping tactics alone if she hadn’t already. 

At nineteen minutes Mr. Lancer stopped in front of his desk. It was only him and Valerie today, and she sat somewhere three desks behind and to his left of him. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, loose yellow sleeves draped over her hands. The bags under her eyes rivaled his own, even though he was sure there hadn’t been too many ghosts in the past week or so—but then again, he’d not been the most attentive to things on the ghost front lately. It was probably his fault she was here at all. 

“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said. He forced his head to turn, a feat much more difficult than it sounded. His head felt full of lead. “Is everything alright at home?”

Danny forced himself not to cringe.

“Uh.” He ignored the sound of Valerie shifting in her seat behind him. Great. An audience. “Yes.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been getting much less sleep of late, is all.”

Now this was a load of shit. Danny’s sleep schedule was normally trash. This current existential crisis was no more taxing than his normal night activities.

Lancer continued. “And your parents have—” he paused, eyes flitting somewhere behind him. “—in light of recent revelations, I just worry, Mr. Fenton.”

Hm.

Did he know, then?

Was this it?

Danny stared stupidly for a moment, forgetting to shut his mouth. And then shrugged.

Falling back on ignorance.

If he was honest, he hadn’t quite expected Lancer to be the one to put it together, but it also made sense. 

Lancer’s mouth thinned. “I know they can be intense, especially with the scrutiny placed on our school now. No one should feel scared to come to school. Or go home,” he said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “This is a safe space.”

For a moment all he could hear was the drum of his heart in his chest. And then behind him, Valerie cleared her throat.

“With all due respect, Mr. Lancer,” she said, “nowhere is safe with that putrid ghost hiding among us.”

Danny didn’t turn around. Lancer’s reaction was subdued, but there was a protective fire in his eyes that confirmed Danny’s suspicions. He wondered how long ago he’d put it together.

“Ms. Gray,” Lancer said, “I see your point, but I’m just trying to ease tensions.”

Danny checked the clock.

Seventeen minutes. 

Maybe he should’ve skipped detention after all.

(No escaping the inevitable. No do-overs this time.)

Valerie scoffed. “So what? We let our guard down?” he chanced a glance behind him, and Valerie’s eyes were red-rimmed—from lack of sleep or otherwise he had no idea. “Someone here is a walking weapon and we’re supposed to ignore this? Fenton at least knows he’ll be safe at home, but what about the rest of us? We don’t get to go home to ghost-hunting parents—we have to hold our own.”

Lancer nodded. “I understand. I just think that it’s very frightening for all of us, ghost hunters or not.”

Danny’s voice cracked when he spoke. “Yeah.”

Valerie’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to make light—”

“No. No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s not safe with Phantom as a student here. Whoever he is.”

She sighed. “Danny, I don’t know what it’s like with your parents, but—”

“But what?” he cut her off. “Because they’re ghost hunters they’re automatically the safest people in the room?” He lowered his voice. “You would think that.”

She froze. “What does that mean?”

Hm. Whoops.

“People don’t know what it’s like, I guess.”

Danny turned back around. Lancer’s stare was dripping with sympathy.

Fifteen minutes.

There was a scrape of a chair, a thud of feet, and a warm hand on his shoulder. Valerie released him just as fast. When he met her eyes, they were as wide as saucers.

“D—Danny,” she said with a note of panic. “You’re cold.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

She took a step back. He hadn’t seen her this scared since they’d been stranded on Skulker’s island together. He could see the realization dawning. 

“Val,” he said, knowing full well what was going through her head, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s not you,” she said, a desperate plea. “I can’t be this stupid.”

He sighed and Lancer stepped between them.

“Ms. Gray,” he said, “now let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“No!” she shook her head. “No, no, no! It doesn’t make sense. You’re—your parents hunt ghosts. Hunt Phantom.”

Danny crossed his arms.

“So do you.”

Lancer looked between them like Danny had announced that he liked eating golf balls. “What.”

Tears welled in Valerie’s eyes. “I trusted you!”

The minute hand inched forward.

Fourteen.

“You trusted me to what?”

Valerie clenched her fists. “Don’t do that! Don’t play stupid!”

“Ms. Gray—”

“I’m not playing.” Danny turned sideways in his desk, facing her head-on. “Tell me what you think I’ve done, Val.”

“Mr. Fenton—!”

“You replaced him. You replaced Danny. How long have you been pretending to be him? To be alive? How can you live with yourself, going home everyday and seeing his parents and—and—acting like you’re still—” she choked on her tears. “You terrorize this town, Phantom. I won’t let you take anything else from me, or anyone.”

Lancer’s eyes were wide. He’d never seen the man so shocked, in such foreign territory.

Valerie, on the other hand, was resolute. There was as much determination in her face as tears.

“I’m still me,” he said. “I died, but I came back. I never replaced myself, however that works. I am sorry, Val. There’s a lot that—”

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! ”

“—that I didn’t mean to happen.”

Lancer slammed his hand on Danny’s desk.

“Can we all settle down!”

It all happened in a matter of seconds. The clock in his peripheral kept him tethered to the moment. 

Valerie reached behind her and pulled a blaster.

A flash of red—

(The minute hand moves.

Thirteen.)

—and a burst of hot pain through his side.

He crumpled forward, his head meeting the linoleum floor with a SMACK and somewhere above him a distant shout.

Everything from his side to his cranium THROBBED and it wouldn’t fucking stop.

(He’d taken hits from Val before. This shouldn’t hurt so much. Why does this—?)

Iron pooled in his mouth. 

Oh right.

Ectoplasm was thicker than blood.

Danny tried to push himself up from the floor but the world spun and his arms gave out below him and he slumped back down to the cold, hard floor.

The floor felt better.

Maybe he would…

Stay here for a while…

***

The television clicked on. A rerun of the six o’clock news.

He didn’t let Jazz turn it off.

“According to a recent report, there is speculation that our local ghost vigilante Phantom might be living among us. Care to tell us more, Lance?”

“Yes, Tiffany.” Lance Thunder’s stupid blonde hair was polished and perfect as usual and he wanted to wipe that stupid half-smile off the bastard’s face. “A ghost ID’ed as Walker —” at this, a crude picture that was mostly just a white blur appeared on the screen “— has publicly announced that our hero is a student at Casper High fooling us, flying under the radar.”

“And as far as we understand, tips from ghosts aren’t verifiable…?”

“Normally, yes, but there is evidence to suggest that—”

“This isn’t good for you,” Jazz hissed. “I know that it’s scary, but—”

“Exposure therapy,” he snapped back. “It’s gonna be the talk of the school anyway.”

She slumped back down onto the couch. “Take care of yourself.”

The door to the lab was thrown open. His parents marched through the kitchen and into the living room, perfectly eclipsing the TV.

“—telling you, Jack. The DNA scans are inconclusive at best. Their so-called ‘experts’ are out of their depths.”

“We’ll show them once and for all. If we can find out which student it’s using as cover—”

“—we’ll expose Phantom for the monster he is!”

His parents disappeared upstairs for the night, but he could still hear snippets of their vows to destroy him. 

He shot Jazz a tired look. “Easier said than done.”

***

Someone was touching him.

Everything on his left burned. Far above him were LEDs and beige ceiling tiles. He wasn’t sure when he’d been rolled onto his back. But he was now, and someone was pressing down on the spot that burned burned burned—!

Blood trickled down his throat.

How many minutes had it been?

How many did he have left?

There were voices, somewhere, but everything sounded like it was underwater. Maybe it was. Drowning would be preferable to many of the other deaths he’d prepared for. Still terrible, sure, but vivisection lowered the bar considerably. 

“—have you done!”

“He’s—” A girl’s voice wavered, quiet. “He’s Phantom. He’s not supposed to—to—”

Wow. Valerie had the decency to sound ashamed.

At least he could die knowing that his killer at least had a few shreds of regret.

(Is it sad that it’s more than he expected?)

“—little first aid.” The pain came in waves, and all Danny could hear was the rush of his stupid heart in his ears. “—expecting shootings in America, but not from a—” 

Just as fast as it came, the world melted away. His last grasp on consciousness slipped away.

(As fast as the click of a button.)

***

Wes had a punchable face.

But hey—that’s what you get for talking to the press. The accusations were written off as pretty baseless, but the damage had been done. He got inquisitive stares now and again. After all, Wes was a joke, but his interview put Danny’s name on the list of suspects and that was enough to fuck his entire life over.

After his two-day suspension, Danny had little opportunity to survey his work. Honestly, more people asked him about how bad he fucked up Wes’s face than whether or not he was Phantom.

(From what he had seen, it was in a perpetual state of purple and that was enough to curb his anger for now.)

So. He had two days off from school.

Danny went to see Clockwork.

Long Now welcomed him with welcome arms, and he broke down into a fit of whines and gripes about how it seemed like everyone was out to get him, that everyone wanted to put his head on a pike. Everyone wanted to ferret out the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Clockwork shared their sympathies.

“No matter what I do, I just—I’m a wreck. I think someone’s figured it out. That they know, but then I mention it to Jazz or Sam or Tucker and I’m just paranoid and I think I’m paranoid now and—” he groaned. “I don’t know what to do. I’m losing my mind.”

“You do know that it’s inevitable that the truth comes to light.”

He froze. “What.”

Clockwork shifted from senior to adult. “Your paranoia isn’t for naught. It’s a matter of time.”

No. This couldn’t be happening.

He’d figure a way out.

There had to be something.

“I thought nothing was inevitable.”

“Not nothing,” Clockwork hummed. “Often, it is nothing. But not this time.”

Their words shook him to the core. He’d suspected it, sure, but confirmation was—

“I know it isn’t fair.”

“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t fair!” Danny snapped. “Your entire life isn’t—isn’t under scrutiny for everyone. If they know that I’m me, I—”

He pressed his hands to his chest.

He would be finished.

One way or another, someone would find a way to put him on their table.

The government.

His parents.

Maybe someone else out for his blood.

(His body.)

“I can’t see what will happen past them learning the truth,” Clockwork said. “But it is a fixed point. Everything past that diverges, a thousand roads. Timelines. Possibilities. I can’t tell you what to expect. The best, the worst. I cannot offer that reassurance.”

“Oh.”

They nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I don’t want them to find out,” he said in a pathetic whine.

For a long moment, Clockwork said nothing. If not for the constant ticking of clocks, he would have thought they were frozen. But then Clockwork’s expression shifted.

And they asked: 

“Would you like to know?” 

***

…

……

………

Warbled voices were around him again. Different.

But this time more in focus.

“Sir, Ma’am, if you could leave the room—”

“I will NOT. That is my son, and I am not leaving until someone tells me why there is a HOLE in his chest—!”

And somewhere else, a shriek of sobs.

“We’re transporting him to the hospital, you can’t—”

“I did it,” said that same, sobbing voice. “I shot him. I shot him.”

More people were touching him and Danny didn’t like it oh god no no no —

“—get him on the stretcher—”

“—the hell DID you—”

“—Ms. Gray, you—”

“—no! I want to know why—”

“—securing him, just—”

And now time did slow.

The EMTs lifted the stretcher.

And his face lolled to the side, giving him a clear view of the clock.

The minute hand moved one last time.

Just as:

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t—he’s Phantom, I didn’t think that it would—!” Valerie, cut off, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Danny. If you can hear me, I’m so sorry.”

And then there was silence.

Crushing darkness.

***

If he had any last doubts that his secret was out, they were snuffed out when he woke up in the hospital to the pained faces of his parents. Jazz was in the chair to his left, hair mussed up and asleep. His parents’ eyes were red with tears. In his delirium, he also noticed Sam’s backpack discarded in the corner.

How long had—?

“Two days.”

Clockwork appeared before him in their adult form. They swung their staff, looking rather pleased with themselves. Danny then realized the occupants of the room had been frozen as long as he’d been awake. 

“You’re recovering well, all considered.” Clockwork tapped a clipboard on a nearby table. “I will say, I am surprised that we took this route. It is what you might call a ‘spoiler,’ but it’s kinder than most.”

“Is it,” he said, voice hoarse.

Clockwork waited for him to finish coughing up his lungs before speaking again. “They’re handling it as best they can. I won’t say it’s great, but you’re on the way there.”

“I—what happened, again?”

And as he asked, it came rushing back.

Lancer. Valerie.

And paramedics?

Clockwork gave him a knowing smile. “Your teacher called an ambulance. In his panic, he might have let it slip that you were having a reaction because of a ghost weapon, and your parents were looped into the call.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Danny’s eyes found his frozen heart monitor, time stopped between beats. Below, his mother had tied off the top half of her HAZMAT suit and was wearing a black shirt beneath. He did notice that the contents of her weapons belt were emptied.

He turned back to Clockwork. “How did they take it?”

They shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them?”

“Wait—wait, I'm not ready.”

“How about this? I tell you how much time you have left.” They raised their staff. “Three—”

“Clockwork—”

“Two—”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Time in.”

[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Biter

PAIRING: Minho x reader

SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.

A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.

MASTERLIST

“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”

His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier. 

He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.

“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.

A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled. 

“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer. 

“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”

He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.” 

“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”

If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.

Though naturally, you became very close with them. 

“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”

Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.” 

“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.

“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod. 

Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you. 

There had to be another reason, surely. 

But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.

Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to. 

In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created. 

He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.

But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that. 

Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave. 

Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place. 

You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.

It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions. 

Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho. 

All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.

"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.

"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.

You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in. 

"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.

Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"

“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”  

“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question. 

“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?” 

“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."

Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.

“So why is half my stuff missing?” 

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.” 

“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest. 

“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“ 

“No you fucking didn’t.” 

“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!” 

“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”

The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”

You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”

Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”

“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!” 

Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.

Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back. 

You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him. 

He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down. 

“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off. 

Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been. 

His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy. 

“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means. 

The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers. 

He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening. 

“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.

His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”

Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down. 

“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out. 

Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.

“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck. 

You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him. 

“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm. 

You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is. 

Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;

“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”

Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?” 

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”

A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it. 

You curse right at him, “fuck you.” 

His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back. 

“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down. 

“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him. 

Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. 

The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.

“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.” 

Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.  

Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back. 

“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.

Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts. 

Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm. 

His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”

At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm. 

“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length. 

The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.

He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.

The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.

“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.” 

You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.” 

Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more. 

"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.

“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."

"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."

Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."

“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."

He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”

Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.

It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him. 

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.

But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”

There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.

-

A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...

[fawningflowered]

SAILORS SONG — N. MÜHL

key; nika , reader

summary; just pure fluff and nika being a cutie pie!! the pair is shortly separated from each other due to reader visiting family. only one lyric from “sailors song” is used, but i do have several other ideas for this song, just leaving out a chunk of the chorus!

word count; 722 words

you'd been down in iowa for the past two weeks, visiting family. all while your poor girlfriend sat waiting for you in seattle. nearly every night you'd facetime, or atleast work a phone call into both of your tight schedules, but it was difficult being away from eachother. especially for nika.

nika was always on the more "clingy" side, and loved physical touch. but, ever since you'd moved with the girl from connecticut to washington, every second you were away from her felt like a second too long. she had you all to herself all the time, so you being nearly two thousand miles away was hard on her. and on top of that, the timezones of ames and seattle didn't match up. every night when you'd lay down for bed, it'd be nine for you, but seven for nika. which made this much harder on her.

you really did try. every single night, without fail, you would try your hardest to stay up for nika. during your "bedtime" she'd be at a team dinner, or late practice. the second she got home, it was only 8:30 pm' for her, but 10:30 pm' for you. she'd sit on her bed, watching as your eyes would flutter shut every couple minutes. you were tired. so she'd let you sleep, never once hanging up the phone. right after you, she'd head to sleep aswell. she couldn't bear seeing you look so peaceful, so precious, so hers, but not at the same time. she wanted you next to her.

in the morning, you would have already been up for almost three hours when nika gets up. right when you knew the girl would set her alarm for, you'd send a sweet "goodmorning baby, i miss you so much :((" to nika. the first text from you would set the tone for her whole day, and this one left her feeling pretty sappy.

"i miss you too, moje dijete. you'll be home soon, right?"

"yes, but i miss you now ☹️"

"i miss you now too, pretty. i have to go now, quinn is making us come in earlier than usual. let's hope we're not in trouble 🤞🏼🤞🏼."

"good luck, niks. i love you 💕"

"i love you more, i will text you when im done."

and she did. nika always kept her promises. thankfully she was able to facetime you during the day, when you and herself weren't consumed with sleep. the call was long, almost two hours. which didn't compare to the twenty six hours she was away from you.. but it would do until then. the call was sadly cut short when your mom had knocked on the door to tell you it was time to go over to see some cousins. goodbyes were said, and once again you were out of the brunettes reach.

that night was late for you. first, you were stuck watching all the younger kids which tired you out majorly. then, you had to help carry out your sister who'd drank one too many at the dinner table. and finally, you fell asleep in the car from pure exhaustion. the five minutes you took to move yourself from the car, to your bed, were not spent speaking to your girlfriend. she understood.

when nika headed to sleep, her dreams were filled with you. her head was on your pillow, your scent filled her senses, it was almost as if you were there. after her long day, she needed the soothing dreams of you next to her.

when she woke up to her newest goodmorning text from you, "two more days!! i can't wait to see you, baby!", she could only think of her dreams of you from the night prior.

"goodmorning !!"

"what's got you in such a good mood this morning, love to see it!"

"i had a dream about you :((("

"aww baby!! are you going to tell me about it?!"

"mhm, you were here with me. and we cuddled. i miss that so much."

"you're going to make me cry ☹️☹️"

"i've been doing that the last few days.."

"hmm.. doing what?"

"dreaming of you."

"yeah?"

"i sleep so i can see you, cause i hate to wait so long."

"nika!! i can't even :((( i love you so much baby."

"i love you more 🥹"

divs are by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged , the cliffhanger on this one is just odd to me .. @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin @favreader23

[maddiesentmehere118]

A Stranger's Jacket: Part 10

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: fluff, light smut, plot inaccuracies, MDNI 18+

Author's notes: I am so very sorry that this has taken a few days to write. I just found the motivation today on my day off!

Masterlist | Taglist

You’d spent eight days in and out of the hospital. Buck was eager to get out of the ICU and had never been more happy to be in a med-surge room with less close monitoring on day three. His guests weren’t as restricted, and you had finally got to meet Christopher. He was as sweet as everyone said he was, and at seven years old, he was a bright little one. His banter with Buck was cute and he was actually funny. Christopher had given you a hug before leaving, telling you that you better be nice to his Buck. You looked back at the man, whose eyes were crinkled with joy. You laughed, bent down, and told him that you would take care of Buck. 

When Maddie was working, you were at the hospital. And when you weren’t doing homework, you and Buck were watching a new series together. When Maddie switched, you bid your farewell to Buck, promising to be back in a few hours. Just enough time to shower and get some rest.

At first, there were some conflicts on where Buck should go. You and Maddie thought it would be best if he didn’t stay at his loft, as it wasn’t accessible with stairs. You advocated for him to stay at Maddie’s place since she had been a nurse, afterall. But he was not having it. He didn’t want to invade his sister’s space, especially since she was with Chimney. And while Eddie’s house was accessible, he didn’t want to be there either.

Buck wanted to be with you. At your place.

He was also adamant that you were not going to sleep in separate beds, so the orthopedist recommended a wedge pillow that was designed to elevate and hold his leg in place. In addition, you ordered a wedge pillow to prop himself up in bed, because he would be spending a lot of time there for the first few weeks. Well, you did the ordering and Buck gave you his card. 

“I think you like that bed more than me.” You’d teased earlier in the week. He shook his head in response, flashing that flirtatious grin of his. 

“While it’s comfy, I like what’s in the bed more. She can be my hot nurse.”

The night that he came home, you didn’t sleep well. The following two nights, you were just as sleepless and relied on coffee during the day. You were afraid that a restless night might jolt him and worsen the pain he was already experiencing.It was similar to the first night he stayed over. By the third night, he had woken up to you sitting up in bed, scrolling on your phone. You broke down for the first time in a week, emotionally and physically exhausted. After calming you down, he convinced you to lay beside him, and he laid his arm across your torso. He couldn’t spoon you, but his arm soothed all of your worries.

The first few weeks were full of weekly doctor appointments and gentle range of motion exercises. You started to teach when Buck got moved onto the med-surg unit.  You found time to record simple lectures when you weren’t at the hospital and used discussion boards to see students engaging with the material. But it was very different to lecture about material compared to hearing students ask questions during Zoom classes or answer questions that you had for them. You had fallen in love with teaching all over again, reminding you of your passion to tutor others pre-shooting. You felt like you were slowly getting back into your routine.

 It was very rewarding and left you warm on the inside, and the students seemed to look forward to class. And even Buck was learning from his place in the other room. He was super proud and ecstatic for you.

By week six, he was so excited to be put on crutches- but that meant even more reminders that he needed to take it easy. He was pushing himself to heal faster, and everyone around him told him that his job wasn’t going anywhere.  

You had slowly transitioned to leaving Buck at home for an hour and a half now that he was on crutches. You were still healing from the aftermath of the shooting, but it was cathartic to be back in the building. With each day, you became less jumpy, more trustworthy in the new security systems and protocols set in place. You slept better and the nightmares from the shooting and Buck’s accident became minimal with the help of therapy. 

By week ten, he had started using the cane for slow distance and was doing great in strength and balancing training. Your apartment got rearranged to fit equipment for rehab in your living room, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You were on board with anything that would get Buck back to where he wanted, within reason of course.

You enjoyed playing house with Buck. It was nice to share life with someone on a regular basis, as you had spent all of your undergrad sharing a dorm space with friends to transitioning to your own as a graduate student. Your friends had slowly trickled over to meet him and had just as great approval ratings as you had said. You were falling in love with him and vice versa.

Week twelve rolled around and it was time to slowly start weaning him off of pain meds. It was hard on both of you, but thankfully most of the pain had lessened and swelling was the main issue. But every hidden whimper of pain was like a strike to your gut and you couldn’t do anything besides give him NSAIDs and rotate between ice and heat. 

After some research, you tried a few things to reduce swelling and minimize the pain. You did breathing exercises together, pushed water and green tea, ate the best foods for inflammation, and experimented with a few numbing creams. You found what worked best for Buck and ran with it. 

Buck eventually got insecure about his body and inability to perform for the time being. You had tried having sex in the third month but a pain flare up had made you both stop. He wanted to try again and you told him that as much as you wanted to jump him, it was a sign that his body still needed time to heal. You were afraid to hurt him. And it was a huge blow to his ego. 

You had leaned onto your side, propping your head up as he stared at the ceiling. You had just made out like horny teenagers when he got a bout of pain. Now he was avoiding eye contact, a mix of frustration and embarrassment in his body language. You leaned over to kiss his cheek, working down his jaw and throat. Your free fingers ran up and down the side of his torso. His face slowly melted into relaxation.

“Hey, Evan, look at me.”

He turned his head, a soft glow on his face. You reached up to stroke his cheek softly. It was a tender touch, much different than the urgent way you clawed at each other a few seconds ago. He had nothing to be worried about, especially with the pool of arousal in your shorts and the pounding of your heart in your chest. Did you mention the room was unbearably hot?

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

A long beat, his chin dipping down. You bent your neck down to catch his attention, giving him a bright smile, trying to keep this lighthearted. 

“I just, I feel like I can’t do anything. After everything you’ve done for me, I feel bad that I can’t show you how much I care.”

You cut him off with a kiss. He grabs the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair pulling you closer to him. You let your hands roam his body, pouring all of your feelings into the moment. You were damned if you were going to let Evan Buckley think you didn’t know how much he appreciated you.

A mix of labored breaths fill the room as you pull back, resting your foreheads against each other. You tilt your head back with laughter as he starts kissing and nuzzling your ticklish spot.

Then he breathed out three simple words.

“I love you. And I am so very in love with you that I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I was made to love you, like I’ve known you all my life. And you don’t have to say it back, but I just thought you should know that I truly love you.”

And it was the easiest thing to sigh it back to him, kissing him again, this time more tenderly, before placing your face on his chest as he held you. 

One evening, closer to the start of the fourth month, you decided that you were going to take control and test the waters again. He had been having a few good days in a row with no real complaints of pain. And his hands were struggling to stay off of you.

Eddie dropped off Buck’s turnout coat while he was out with Maddie earlier that day, and he didn’t ask questions. However, from the smug look on his face, he knew. A blush crept on your cheeks as he smiled, wishing you good luck before leaving. 

The Proposal was on while you were in the bathroom, Buck relaxing in bed. You fluffed your hair up, smudging some eyeliner to finish your smokey eye. Your lips were painted red, eyelashes coated black with mascara. With a finalized spray of perfume and a deep breath, you were ready to open the door.

You slowly cracked the door open, not wanting to gain Buck’s attention right away. You slowly peeked out, leaning your hip against the door frame, arm resting above your head. A sultry look graced your face, lip tucked between your teeth. Your eyes never left his body.

It was at least three minutes before he had glanced up at you. His eyes lit up upon seeing your face, but as they trailed down your body, his blue orbs turned dark, hooding over in lust. 

He sat up to walk towards you, but you tusked, waving your finger at him. He let out a low groan as you arched your chest forward, giving him a better view of your lace covered breasts. 

“Fuck-”

“Oh I’m going to fuck you, Buckley.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

He tilted his head, a knowing grin on his face. You could see his imagination running wild.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

You paused, pushing off of the door frame to saunter over to him. You stood over him, finger barely grazing the skin of his bare torso.

“Well I need you to be good for me and lay back so I can suck your cock. Then-” 

You dragged a finger down the middle of his chest, down to his groin. His chest was heaving with shallow breaths of anticipation, arousal clear in his eyes as he watched you every move.

“I’m going to take my time ruining you.”

You leaned down, lips brushing his. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. But you had pulled back as he tried to deepen it, conveying you were going to be in charge tonight. 

“You’re going to spoon me and look at your name on my back as you fuck me.”

His hands grab at your hips, and you don’t miss the slight tremble in them. Maybe he was nervous about a pain flare up or disappointing you again. But you would never be disappointed. Having Buck in your life was enough for you. If it meant keeping Buck safe and pain free, everything else could wait.

Regardless, he keeps hands on your love handles, turning you to get a better view. His Adam's Apple bobbed, breath hitching in his throat. You had him right where you wanted him.

The first time sex went well, it was equally a moment of relief and connection. You’d learned that Buck had a breeding kink, and used that to your full advantage when you begged him to cum in you, telling him you were on the IUD. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t into it, either.

After that, you had tried to take it lightly, but that only lasted a few days before he was taking you in any position he could. You had to refrain from any strenuous weight bearing positions on his leg, which meant doggy style and cowgirl off of the table- for now. But missionary and side sex was working wonders for the both of you.

By the middle of the fourth month, he was rabid. He was able to participate in more positions and was leading a very active sexual life, moving past mutual masturbation and touching- although you didn’t mind when he fingered you or when you had his cock in your hand, down your throat-

The last few months were a blur. Buck was walking normally with low amounts of pain and you had been out to more social gatherings. And you even were able to go out on what Buck called “proper dates”, which was nice since it was now spring out, but you secretly rolled your eyes at the fact that he thought you had to go out and spend money to have a good date.

You had fallen into a routine yet managed to keep each other on their tippy toes.

When you graduated in August, the whole team had come to watch you walk across the stage with that diploma. Buck had arranged for Hen and Karen to spearhead the planning for a secret graduation party, and there were signs that something was going to happen, but you didn’t think too hard on it. 

At first, you were worried that he was texting another woman. He was on his phone a little more leading up to your graduation and you thought this may be it. You knew that insecurity was stupid, considering how love stricken he was. And he kept asking small questions, playing them off subtly. He’d been super excited to get you out the door for dinner at your favorite restaurant- only after he had made you unravel on his face a few times.

The ride to the restaurant was long but you didn’t notice that you weren’t on the way to the restaurant. Buck had his hand firmly gripped on your thigh and kept giving you that glance that made you want to skip dinner.

So when Buck pulled into a driveway, you were confused. Cars lined the street and Buck played it off as Hen and Karen had a present for you that they forgot to bring to graduation. You followed his lead as he helped you out of the car, walking up the concrete pad to the door. The house was quiet and mostly dark as Buck rang the doorbell. Hen answered, inviting you in as Karen grabbed the gift from her bedroom. 

You’d started a conversation about Denny, laughing as Hen joked that they were not ready to watch him graduate fourth grade, let alone highschool or college. Buck’s hand remained firm on your waist as you conversed.

Then suddenly, the lights turned on, and you assumed Karen had returned with your gift. But instead, a collective shout of surprise filled the air. Your friends, the team, and Dr. Daniels and his family jumped out, and you were shocked. 

But what really surprised you was Buck’s rehab team being there, as they had become a monumental part of you and Buck’s everyday life. You’d let out a few tears as you went to them, hugging them and thanking them for showing up. Without them, you don’t know how strong you could have been. They weren’t only there for Buck’s healing, but they were also there for you. They understood how challenging it was being a loved one caring for their partner. You could actually talk to Trina, Melody, and Heather about your feelings on his journey without the clinical guidance of your counselor. 

Now you are getting ready for your supposed date night. You had informed Buck that you were going to go see a comedy show together. You had put on a long sleeve maxi dress and paired it with some flats. It was a bit more than what you normally wear out, but not too different. Now you had to convince Buck to let you drive, which is more of a feat on its own considering he loves toting you around now his leg is back to normal.

“Babe, we’re going to be late if you keep messing with your hair.”

“We are not.” 

He peeks his head out of the bathroom, looking charming as always.

“You have my keys, right? You’re ready to go?”

You flash him your purse hanging on your shoulder and keys in your hand. Your keys.

“Wait, you’re driving?”

“It’s my night to take you out, don’t you remember?”

His golden retriever energy shines through as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You smile as you hold the keys behind his back, knowing what he’s attempting to do. 

“You can’t have the keys, but you can give me a kiss.”

He leans down, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth teasingly. His hand slides down your back, resting on the swell of your ass. 

“Hmmm.” He gives you a sweet peck. “I suppose that’s a fair trade.”

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🔥 taglist: @nickie-amore, @mimisweetz, @queen-o-castle, @dipdeedoda, @rintheemolion, @iluvvcaats

[queen-of-the-avengers]

A First For Everything

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader x Steve Rogers (no stucky)

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Steve Rogers. Thoughtful, considerate, and loving. He makes you feel safe and wanted. Bucky Barnes. Passionate, adventurous, and dangerous. He makes you feel alive and free. You think you can only choose one, but what happens when they offer to share you?

Squares Filled: image of bucky and steve from the comic (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You don’t have a lot of money but you love reading so you spend a lot of time at your local library to read all the books you can’t get otherwise. They have a checkout system that allows you to take home up to five books. If you want more, you’ll return what you read and the cycle continues. You’ve been so often that the librarians know you by name. They often allow you to take home an extra book knowing you’ll return it in the same condition you got it at.

“Hey, Marie,” you greet when you walk in.

“Y/N, dear, how was your weekend?”

“Spent my nose in all the books I borrowed last week. I am here to return them and get five more.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed if you wanted to sneak a sixth in there,” she smiles.

“We’ll see,” you chuckle.

She takes the books and you head to the section you’ve been obsessing over for the last few months. There are three books you had your eye on last week hoping that they’re here now. You turn the corner and see a tall blond man browsing the same section you’re going to. He’s looking at the shelf that contains one of the books you’re interested in. You could ask him to move but you’re mesmerized by this man’s physique. He’s tall and very muscular with short blonde hair and a clean-shaven face.

“Can I help you?”

You’re brought back to reality when you hear his velvety smooth voice.

“No, sorry. I just, um, need a book from that shelf.”

“Oh, sorry. Here.” He moves to the left and allows you to step into his space to grab the book on the very top shelf. Your fingers touch the edge of the shelf but you can’t reach the book. This is so embarrassing. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah. It’s the pink book right there.”

“It’s a good book. I’ve read it five times. I love this book.” He grabs the book and hands it to you with a smile. He even has a gorgeous smile with perfect white teeth. “I��m Steve.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Are you new around here or have you lived here long?”

“I’ve lived here nearly a year. I like to come here and read as much as I can.”

“That’s cool. My roommate and I just moved out here. We’re trying to venture out and look for fun things to do.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re into but there is a concert venue downtown that holds small concerts from bands that aren’t really well known. It has a bar and it’s a good way to listen to some new music. There’s also a farmer’s market on the opposite side of town that has delicious food. I like to go there.”

“Seems like you know your way around town.”

“Yeah, I do. I like to do new things every week and just get out of my apartment.”

“Think you might want to show me around?” You blush at his offer and he chuckles. “You’re incredibly beautiful and I’d love to take you out if you let me. I just don’t know much around here so I think I need a tour guide.”

“I can be your tour guide if you want,” you grin. “The beaches here are pretty nice, especially at night.”

“Good to know,” he smiles.

You hand him your phone so he can put his number in, and you call it so that he has your number. You part ways and grab the other books you’ve had your eyes on before heading back home. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough, it’s all you can think about. Steve says he’ll be over at seven to take you out, and you start getting ready two hours before the date. You take an “everything” shower, dry and curl your hair, get dressed in the perfect dress and shoes, do your makeup, accessorize, and spray your best perfume. You’re ready with ten minutes to spare, and Steve is knocking on your door before you know it.

“Wow, you look amazing,” Steve smiles.

“Thank you. You clean up nice, too.”

He leads you to your car and opens the passenger door for you. You’re not sure what kind of date he’s taking you on but you’re excited to see what he researched. For someone who doesn’t know the area, it’ll be interesting to see what he thinks is worth going to. Steve drives to the coastline and finds a parking spot right next to the beach. You love the beach and often come here to either read your books or enjoy time in the sun. You don’t normally come here after the sun has gone down so it’s nice to see the beach free of people.

“I never come here at night. It’s nice,” you grin.

There is an ice cream shop that’s open late to give people a reason to stay in the area, and Steve leads you over to it.

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Either strawberry or mint chocolate chip. Surprise me.”

Steve gets ice cream for both of you, and you two eat it while walking along the shore of the beach. You two take your shoes off to allow the water to wash over your feet whenever it splashes onto shore.

“So, tell me a little bit about you.”

“Well, I live alone. I have a degree in psychology. I own three dogs and two cats so it’s never quiet inside my house. I love reading. I think I spent more time inside the library where we met than anywhere else. If they let animals inside, I’d bring all my dogs with me. What about you?”

“I live with my childhood best friend. I never went to college but I did graduate college. We have one cat that’s mostly my roommate’s but I think she loves me more. I’m more outgoing than my roommate and love to go out and meet new people.”

Talking to Steve is easy. You’re not big on being social but there is something about Steve that brings you comfort. He’s safe and you can see yourself falling for him quickly.

“Despite coming here all the time, I have never had this ice cream before. This is delicious,” you grin and take another bite.

“You got a little something…”

“Where?” you gasp and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Here.”

Steve scoops some of his ice cream and touches the cold treat to your nose. You gasp and look at him with wide eyes.

“You did not just do that.”

“I did,” Steven grins.

You don’t even think about what to do next. You take a scoop of your ice cream and shove it into his face, watching as it drops from his face onto the sand. You and Steve are at a standstill with a tense silence between you. He jerks toward you and you take off running away from him with a squeal. He catches you easily and threatens you by moving his ice cream-covered mouth toward your cheek.

“No! That’s gross,” you laugh and cringe away from him.

Steve licks his lips and lets you go with a chuckle. You like how easy it is with Steve. Being the gentleman Steve is, he walked you to your front door when he dropped you off at home.

“I had a great time with you,” you smile.

“Me too. I hope we can do this again.”

“I’m sure I can fit you in.”

You think Steve is going to kiss you when he leans in but he bypasses your lips and kisses your cheek. You go to bed that night with a smile on your face and your head filled with thoughts of Steve. The next day, you head out to the gym early so you can start your day refreshed and energized. There aren’t a lot of people at the gym but you’re good at tuning everything out when you’re in your workout. You start with a light walk on the treadmill to get your blood pumping before moving to the weights.

You use the weight machine where you sit down on the small bench and grab the handlebars that you’ll pull toward yourself. You’ve never used this machine before but you’re doing it now because you want to at least try something new. It might work better for you. You set the weights to the amount you can pull before sitting down. You complete one rep when you feel someone tapping on your shoulder.

You look behind you to see a gorgeous man. Tall, dark hair, a sharp jawline, bright blue eyes, muscles for days, and tattoos inked down his arms. You can tell that ink is on his torso because it disappears underneath the collar of his shirt. He waves a hand in front of his face and you snap out of the trance.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” you ask after taking out your AirPod.

“I don’t want to be that guy or a creep but I noticed your posture when using this machine. I don’t want to see you hurt yourself. Can I give you some tips?” You open your mouth to respond and he quickly speaks again. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off. I just… I know a bit or two about gym injuries.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. What am I doing wrong?”

The man straddles the bench right behind you but stays far enough away from you so you don’t feel his skin. However, you feel the heat radiating from his body. It’s enough to make your head spin.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He puts his hands on your hips and moves slightly closer to you. The heat increases and your heart beats faster.

“You want to keep your back straight. The point of this machine is to work your arms. Pull down the handlebar.” You keep your back straight when you pull it down because you’re afraid of leaning back into his body. He cups both of your elbows as you lower your arms and stops you from going further down. “You want to keep your elbows at a ninety-degree angle. Try again.”

The man takes his hands away from your arms but lets them rest on your hips. You do it again and you can feel him nod behind you.

“Good girl.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at those two words. You’re not even sure if you heard him correctly, he spoke so softly.

“Thank you for your help.”

“No problem.” The man stands making you wish he was pressed against you still. “I’m Bucky.”

“Y/N.”

“Again, I’m not that guy or anything but are you single?”

“Yes,” you giggle.

You and Steve went on one date so you don’t count that as you two being in an exclusive relationship.

“Would you be opposed to me taking you out on a date?”

“No.”

Bucky takes out his phone and opens the phone app so you can give him your number. After you put it in, he calls you so that you have his number.

“I hope you’re free Friday night.”

“I just so happen to be free that day.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six. Wear something you don’t mind getting a bit of dirt on.”

“Okay.”

Bucky leaves your side to continue his workout but you can’t continue. All you can think about is Bucky and the feeling you got when you felt him behind you. Friday is only two days away but it feels like a week has passed before it’s finally here. You and Steve have been talking about going on another date. Yes, you told him that you had a date with another man but he didn’t seem all that worried since you two aren’t exclusive. The second you decide that you are, you’ll break it off with Bucky. The same goes for Steve if you and Bucky decide to be a thing.

It’s nearing six when you tie the pink bow into your hair. You’re wearing jeans and a frilly pink shirt, and you’ve done your hair in a half updo with a pink bow. You swipe lipgloss onto your lips when you hear the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle. You look out the window and see Bucky roll into your neighborhood on a sleek black bike. You meet him outside just as he takes off his helmet.

“Damn, I thought you were beautiful in gym clothes and all sweaty. You’re gorgeous now.”

Bucky’s wearing a tight black shirt and jeans that fit him snugly.

“Thank you,” you blush.

“Have you ever ridden a bike before?”

“Once or twice.”

“Then come here, Doll.” You walk over to Bucky and he is careful when he slides the second helmet onto your head, careful to not mess up your hair too much. He straps it into place and helps you onto the back of his bike before climbing on himself. “Hold on tight.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and sit very close to him. Even through his leather jacket, you can feel his muscles flex whenever you touch them. Bucky takes you out of town and to the old Jasper property. Jasper used to be a thriving farmer once upon a time but lost his house after he died. He didn’t have any family to leave it to so the city took possession of it. It now stands as a property kids love to explore, trash, and do whatever else they want to do with it. The city does nothing because they either don’t care or don’t have enough money to put security there.

Bucky pulls into the farm and parks next to an array of bikes. There is commotion coming from the back of the property and the sound of bikes revving their engines.

“What is going on here?” you ask Bucky when you get your helmet off.

“Dirt bike racing,” he grins. “I usually race but this time, I’m happy to watch.”

“Because of me?”

“Well, I can’t be looking like a fool in front of you if I lose,” he chuckles.

You two head to the back of the property and find seats up high to be able to see everything. The bikers slowly drive around the track to get used to it right before the race.

“I’ve never been to one of these things before.”

“Oh, Doll, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

The race begins and all the bikers start it by giving it their all. Bucky cheers his friend who is in first place, and you watch with wide eyes, scared to look away even for a second. The race consists of thirty laps around the place but it feels like they’re doing it in five. They go so fast around the curves, jump over the ramps expertly, and gain a lot of cheers whenever their favorites get closer to first place.

Bucky tries to explain the logistics of it all but you’re too enthralled to listen to him. It’s nice to do this with Bucky because you love the thrill of racing whether that be cars or bikes. Bucky stands up and cheers when his friend finishes in first followed by two of his other friends in second and third. The winner gets a cash prize put together by both the audience and the crew members responsible for the race.

“So, how was your first bike race?” Bucky asks when he walks you back to his bike.

“That was amazing! You do that sort of thing?”

“Yeah. There’s nothing like feeling nothing but the rumble of your bike on a racetrack. Everything else disappears and it feels like you’re the only one on the track. Sure, we do races for fun but the serious ones are the best.”

“I’d like to see you race sometime.”

“I can arrange that,” he grins. Bucky takes the long way back to your house to give you more time pressed up against him. Like Steve, he walks you to your front door. “Can I take you out again?”

“Yes,” you smile.

Bucky glances down to your lips and decides to just go for it. He grabs the sides of your face and pulls you in for a kiss that makes your head dizzy. He dances around the idea of using tongue, and you open your mouth to allow him in. He slides his tongue in and explores what you’ve given him before pulling away.

“I’ll talk to you later, Doll.”

“Okay,” you mutter, still in a haze from his kiss.

Bucky waits for you to get inside your house before leaving. You rest your back against your door and bite your lip in thought. You had such a great time with Steve but you also loved your time with Bucky. Two men. How will you ever decide between them? You get ready for bed and fall asleep with thoughts of Bucky and Steve.

The next morning, you’re woken up by your phone ringing. You pop your head up and reach for your phone with one eye closed and the other squinted nearly shut. Both eyes pop wide open when you see Steve’s name on your phone. You sit up in bed and smooth down your hair as if he can see what you look like over a phone call. You cough to clear your throat so it’s not so obvious that you’ve been sleeping seconds before.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you busy tonight?”

“No. What’s up?”

“My roommate is going to be out of town tonight and I was wondering for our second date, I can cook for you.”

“At your place?”

“Yeah. I totally understand if you don’t want to come over and go somewhere public, but--”

“Steve, it’s okay. I’d be happy to let you cook for me.”

“Okay, good,” he breathes in relief. “I’ll text you my address. How about you come over at six?”

“I’ll be there.”

After saying goodbye, Steve hangs up and looks at his roommate who is sitting in the living room cleaning bike parts he got from Facebook Marketplace.

“What have I told you about cleaning your shit in here?”

“To do it because you love it,” Bucky grins.

“You’re going to be out by six, right? My date is coming over then.”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

Bucky continues to clean while Steve gets ready for his date with you. Afterward, both men decide to kill time to watch whatever it is that’s on Netflix. Bucky looks at the time and sees it’s nearly six. He gets up and grabs his jacket on his way to the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out, remember?”

“British Bake-Off is next,” Steve says with the remote in hand.

“I’m leaving and you have your date. It’s almost six.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Steve looks at his friend who grabs his motorcycle keys. “You don’t want to take a shower first? Wash your hair, maybe?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Bucky rolls his eyes. He opens the door right when you’re about to knock, and your eyes widen when you see it’s Bucky and not Steve at the door. “Doll?”

“Bucky? What… What are you doing here?”

Steve pops his head out from behind his friend and smiles when he sees you.

“Hey, Y/N, come in. This is my roommate, Bucky. He was just leaving.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word and opens the door wider so you can walk in. Of course, it’ll be your luck that the two best guys you’ve ever dated just so happen to be roommates. Steve isn’t freaking out so Bucky must not have talked about you or not mentioned you by name.

“You’re dating her? She’s your date?” Bucky whispers at Steve but you hear.

“Yeah, why?”

“Dude, she’s the girl I took to the bike race.”

“Wait, what?”

“Look, I didn’t know you two were roommates.” Both men look at you. “I should go, right? This is something I don’t want to come between. I don’t want to ruin your friendship and before you say anything, it will if we continue to let this happen. Yeah, I should go.”

Neither man moves from the front door so you’re stuck here while they stare at each other like in some macho standoff. They have a wordless conversation only spoken through their eyes. It feels like hours before Bucky finally speaks.

“We’re not going to make you choose but I still want to date you.”

“So do I,” Steve says right after.

“Both of you want to date me?”

Bucky shrugs and looks at his friend who has the same expression on his face.

“You wouldn’t be the first thing we’ve shared.”

“You obviously don’t have to choose right now, and if you’ll let me, I’d love to cook for you still.”

Two men? Two gorgeous men? You had such a fun time with Steve and Bucky, and if they’re willing to share you, who are you to say you can’t do the same? You’ve never done something like this before but there’s a first for everything, right?

“Fuck it. I’m in if you are.”

Bucky and Steve grin mischievously, ideas already running through their heads. This is either going to be the best thing to happen to you or the worst mistake of your life. It is sure fun to find out, though.

x

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[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Twelve

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Injury/blood mentions. There is also some smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.5k

A/N : aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh what am i doing??

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN

Master List

Chapter Twelve

Again, you found yourself waking up in his arms.

You felt more exhausted than you had before falling asleep, like you were suffering from an emotional hangover from everything you’d been through, everything you’d told Billy. Your eyes opened for a few seconds and then closed again, pressing your face against his bare chest and listening to the steady drumming of his heart beat.

Billy shifted and let out a gentle sigh, his hand softly stroking your hair.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “go back to sleep.”

And you did.

Even though you wanted to ask him why he wasn’t asleep, even though your head was still full of unanswered questions about what he future might hold, you fell asleep.

And Billy kept hold of you, making you feel safe despite everything you’d learned about him and everything you’d revealed about yourself. 

It should have scared you or in the least made you pause, but it didn’t. He’d done terrible things, just like you had, but you were certain he’d never hurt you.

You woke again a few hours later. The awful pressure in your head had subsided a little, but you’d spent the night flashing from one restless dream to the next, half-remembering then before slipping into the next. 

Slowly, you lifted your head so you could look at Billy, and you shifted up the bed so you didn’t have to crane your neck.

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling at you.

“Hey,” you replied, managing your own small smile. Then came the lingering silence as you looked at him, wishing you could read his mind and know what he was thinking about everything you’d confessed to him. But, since you couldn’t read minds, you decided to ask. “About last night, what I told you -”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, placing a hand on your cheek. “Not to me. I’ll never judge you for it and I’ll never tell a soul. Your secret’s safe with me. You’re safe with me.”

He sounded so certain, like he’d been up all night thinking it through, reaching the conclusion that he didn’t care that you’d killed people. Reaching the conclusion that he’d keep you safe, no matter what.

“What about you? The Homeland Agent -”

Billy cut you off with a kiss, a soft and tender meeting of lips that left you feeling breathless.

“Do you want this?” He asked quietly, against your lips, his eyes shut tight. “Do you want me?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest and your breath caught. The familiar war of fight versus flight began to war inside you but, quickly, you realised you didn’t want to do either.

“Yes,” you finally dared to confess, giving in to weeks of agonising and trying to force away your feelings. “But -”

He stopped you with another kiss, his body pressing closer to yours, urging you onto your back.

Everything quickly faded away, becoming nothing more than static in the back of your mind. You couldn’t deny it anymore, you didn’t want to deny it anymore; with Billy you felt safe, seen. With Billy you almost felt... loved.

Your lips parted, eagerly allowing him to deepen the kiss as you welcomed the press of his body on top of yours. Wrapping him up in your arms, you let your hands run down his back, fingertips mapping out the faintly raised lines of scars that littered his skin.

One of his hands gripped your hip while the other still remained on your cheek, adding a strange sort of tenderness to the moment, even as you parted your legs and allowed him to settle between them. The increasingly familiar press of his erection against you drew a sigh from you. There was nothing you wanted more than him in that moment, chequered pasts be damned. Billy was quickly becoming an oasis, a place of refuge, something you didn’t want to survive without.

A moan slipped from your lips and into his as you felt the slow, steady grind of his cock between your legs. The motion caused your slip to ride up your thighs and the friction from his boxers, the only thing separating him from you, had you instantly feeling desperate and needy.

But Billy didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush, in fact he seemed heavily invested in a hot and heavy make out session, enjoying the fact that you were both finally on the same page.

“Fuck, kitten,” he groaned as you nipped his lip with your teeth.

“Billy,” you muttered in breathless response, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips captured yours again and you both started to lose yourselves to each other. Seconds, minutes, time slipped by unnoticed. Everything was him and the way he was touching you, the way he was kissing you.

“Kitten,” he groaned against your lips, an invitation and a plea, a hint of what was to come if you let him continue.

You barely realised that your hand was gripping his ass through the fabric of his boxers, fingers digging into supple flesh, as your hips moved against his.

His hand slid up your body from your hip, over your slip to your chest, his thumb teasing the hardened peak of a nipple through the soft fabric. Another moan escaped you, betraying just how turned on you were, how close you were to coming before he’d even really touched you. And that little sound was enough to have Billy doubling down, his hips rocking faster, his kiss turning more insistent.

“Billy,” you gasped, “fuck, Billy -”

He silenced you with his tongue, slowly but surely becoming the same dominant man he’d been the first time you’d allowed him into your bed.

“Mine,” he groaned against your lips. “You’re mine.”

Fuck. You were. In that moment and perhaps in every moment that would follow after. You were his, even if you still didn’t want to admit it. Your grip on him tightened and he let out a grunt, obviously enjoying the fact that you were finally being hands on with him.

As his lips moved to your neck, you angled your head, letting him kiss and suck your skin.

Finally, you got it. Finally you understood that first time together because, now, you were the one that wanted to hold him tight, wanted to leave him bruised and covered with the marks of your affection. Now you were the one that wanted to hold him tight and fuck him hard, and make him forget about anyone who ever came before you. Finally, you understood how difficult it was to keep those urges in check.

And, all the while, his hips kept moving, his clothed cock grinding against you, the fabric of his boxers soaked with your arousal. The sounds spilling from your lips more than giving away what he was doing to you and, suddenly -

“Oh - fuck!” You gasped as you came like some horny teenager.

Billy pulled back from your lips so he could look at you, biting his lip as he watched your mouth go slack and let out the sweetest moan he’d ever heard. The movement of his hips became slower and more pronounced dragging out your orgasm until you felt like you were nothing more than a needy puddle beneath him.

His thumb traced your lower lip and he grinned down at you, looking very impressed with himself.

“I love making you come,” he groaned.

“Then do it again,” you answered back, breathlessly.

Before Billy could even respond, your fingers were at the waistband of his boxers, eagerly tugging them down. There were no thoughts in your head beside what you wanted; him. All the doubts and fears were gone, your mind quiet except for the longing inside you that you now knew only Billy could sate.. You didn’t want to think, didn’t want to stop and consider just how messy and dangerous your life was about to become because, if you did, you knew you’d tell him to stop.

But, unfortunately, that choice was taken away from you.

A heavy knock on the door started you and had your whole body going tense beneath him, your heart threatening to stop as your mind raced over all of the terrible possibilities. 

You expected the door to be kicked in, for armed men to enter your apartment and either dragBilly away from his crimes or you for yours. It was the police, the FBI, the Homeland Agent. Someone was coming to get you, to tear you away from each other, and if one was caught, the other would suffer just as much.

Then you heard your name, accompanied by another angry knock.

Jenna.

Even Billy breathed a sigh of relief - though from where you were laying, that seemed awfully premature.

“Wake up!” She called through the door, knowing you well enough to know that you tended to sleep until noon before and after working late nights.

“Think she’ll go away?” Billy whispered, barely managing to bite back a grin as he spoke.

It was funny, you supposed, though you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh; your body was still coming down from the orgasm he’d given you, you had his boxers pulled halfway off his ass, and his cock was still painfully hard between your thighs.

“No,” you finally sighed.

Grudgingly, you let go of him. Billy didn’t seem to want to move until you gently pushed him off you. He let out a disappointed huff and dropped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Climbing out of bed, you pulled your slip back down and took a deep breath, not wanting to appear like you’d just been about to be fucked within an inch of your life by the wanted man in your bed.

You opened the door slowly, but that didn’t stop Jenna from barging straight in.

“I brought breakfast,” she said, making her way to your kitchen, and placing a bag down on the side while she rummaged for plates and started filling the coffee maker.

“Jenna, what -” 

“I thought we could have breakfast and talk,” she answered, moving around your kitchen like it was her own.

“Talk about what?”

“You know what.”

And you did. She wanted to talk about Billy, about the things he’d done. She wanted to talk about the man he’d been, without knowing the girl that you’d once been. Jenna didn’t know, didn’t understand. And you were glad - of course you were glad - you were glad she’d never been through the things that you and Billy had been through.

“Jenna,” you sighed.

When she turned to finally look at you, you saw her expression flicker between surprise and annoyance.

“What the fuck is that?” she asked, pointing at you. When you shrugged, not sure what she was talking about, she clarified; “on your neck. Why do you look like someone has -”

“That someone would be me,” Billy interrupted, stepping out of the bedroom.

While you were glad he’d at least had the decency to pull on a tee-shirt, you still found yourself wishing for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

You took a step back, putting space between yourself and both of them.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Jenna said, not bothing to hide her annoyance. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in if they find him here?”

“They won’t find me here,” Billy answered for you.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because the only person who knows I’m here is you, and I’d hope you wouldn’t fuck your best friend over like that.” Billy said, sparing a glance towards you. “Look, I get that this situation is fucked up -”

“Fucked up? You’re wanted for multiple murders.”

You stood there, barely breathing, barely listening as they went back and forth, venting their frustrations at each other. You weren’t sure if minutes had passed or hours before you finally forced yourself back into the moment.

“D’you think the cops care if you can remember?” Jenna snapped.

“Stop,” you said weakly, finally managing to find your voice again. “Both of you, just... just stop. Please?”

“I’m trying to protect you, how do you not get that?” Jenna snapped.

You visibly winced at the sharpness in her tone.

“She doesn’t need protecting from me,” Billy answered, tone matching hers.

“Both of you need to go,” you said, your fight or flight reflex quickly settling on flight.

“Kitten -” Billy started to object.

“Please, just - both of you, go. I can’t do this.”

And you couldn’t. You felt like a child again, standing and listening to your mom and whatever guy she was with at the time, screaming and arguing, acting like you weren’t there, like you didn’t matter. 

“You can’t be serious. You can’t expect me to just leave you here with him,” Jenna said.

“Jenna... I love you like a sister but, please, can you just trust I know what I’m doing?” You pleaded. “I’ve been looking after myself for years. You know I wouldn’t willingly put myself in danger.”

Billy was the first to move, turning and heading back into the bedroom to get dressed.

“He’s dangerous,” Jenna said again, not moving an inch.

“Not to me,” you told her. “I know you don’t understand, and I wish I knew how to explain it to you, but I’m safe with him and I can’t turn him away.”

It was everything you’d already told her the night before. You just hope that this time it would actually sink in.

“You can’t tell anyone that he’s been here, Jenna -”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” she said admantly.

“You were right; if he gets arrested, I will too... and not because I lied about knowing him.”

She looked at you, confused, like she was finally starting to really understand how little she knew about you.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, though it didn’t seem like she really wanted an answer.

“A long time ago, someone hurt me...” you said, voice threatening to break. “And I... I hurt them back...”

It hung in the air and you watched the words register with her as the pieces started to fall into place. The day after you’d been spiked, you’d let out a similar confession, and Jenna quickly figured out that the two pieces of information fit together. She didn’t say anything, but she gave a nod.

“One of the people Billy hurt... they hurt him,” your voice turned quiet, not wanting Billy to overhear you spilling his secrets. “When he was a little kid, they...”

You didn’t have to finish it. Given the context of the conversation, Jenna immediately understood what you were trying to tell her. Her expression softened and, just like that, you’d managed to pull her into the weird world of confusion that you now inhabited.

“If he hurts you -” she started.

“He won’t.”

“If he does, I’ll kill him myself.”

“You won’t need to, I’d never hurt her,” Billy said as he emerged from the bedroom. Without pause he cleared the space between you and pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I’ll see you later, kitten,” he muttered into your hair, letting his hand linger on your waist for a moment before pulling away.

Both you and Jenna watched as he made his way towards the door, and after he’d gone you both remained silent for almost a full minute.

“You have the worst taste in men,” Jenna finally grumbled.

“You were the one who told me to stop going for the safe guys.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “You still want me to go?”

“I guess you can stay for breakfast,” you conceded. “As long as you don’t -”

“We don’t have to talk about him anymore,” Jenna said. “As long as you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I am.”

The words left your lips before you could even really think about it. Were you sure? Could you ever really be sure of anything when it came to Billy?

No.

Yes.

You were sure he’d never hurt you, that he’d do everything he could to keep you safe. But would that be enough?

You went to change while Jenna finished setting up breakfast for you both and what followed was nothing short of awkward. Neither of you seemed to really know what to say to the other anymore, and you could tell Jenna was still worrying about everything but what you’d told her seemed to have unsettled her enough to make her want to keep her thoughts to herself.

But she wasn’t angry any more, and that was something.

The rest of your day went by normally; Jenna left not long after breakfast and you lazed around until it was time to get ready for work. Even work was pretty normal, if not a little quiet. Billy stayed away from the bar and so did his friends, though you had no idea if it was because of the Homeland Agent or just because they were somewhere else doing things you didn’t even want to think about.

That night, you got home, threw yourself into a hot shower and, then, waited.

And waited.

An hour passed and there was no sign of Billy, so you reluctantly took yourself to bed.

The next day passed pretty much the same. You got up, had breakfast, wandered to the coffeeshop a couple of blocks over, then you returned to your apartment to get ready for work. And, that night, there was still no sign of him.

He’d disappeared on you before, but not like this. He’d laid low when he knew you were angry with him, when he knew that you didn’t want to see him, but you were neither of those things now.

Panic settled beneath your ribs and you found yourself wondering any number of things; was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had he heard you tell Jenna his secret? Fuck, why had you even tried to tell her?

Or was it something else, something worse? Had he been arrested, or was he lying in a ditch dead somewhere? It wasn’t like you could call hospitals or -

Fuck. What were you doing? What were you thinking? It had only been two days and, already, your mind was rushing to every worse case scenario it could possibly conceive. And, the worst part was that you didn’t even really understand why. 

Until a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even thought twice about him vanishing. That was just Billy, that was just what he did, but he’d said he’d see you later and you’d assumed that meant that night.

On the third day, you cracked.

At almost four in the morning you called him. Part of you expected him to answer straight away, to hear some smug comment about how much you missed him. Instead it rang right through to voicemail. You hung up and tried again. And again. Then you decided to leave a message.

“I don’t know if this is some game you’re playing, but I don’t like it, Billy,” despite the annoyed undertone of your words, there was no hiding the worry in your voice. “Can you just... I don’t know, let me know that you're okay?”

There was an instant feeling of regret the moment you hung up. What if he’d been arrested and that message led the cops to your door? What if it was just some stupid game and you’d exposed how much you cared?

Whatever it was, you unblocked his number and spent the rest of your night staring at your phone, hoping that it would ring.

But there was nothing. No word from Billy, no sign that he’d even gotten your message.

And you hated it. You hated that he’d forced himself into your life and then vanished. He’d made you care and then he’d abandoned you.

You hated it so much that when he finally turned up again, you seriously considered not letting him into your apartment.

“Kitten, please,” you heard through the door on the fourth night, a strange hitch in his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand.

When you opened the door, Billy practically fell into your apartment.

You first thought was that he was soaked through and that he must have been out in the rain for quite some time, but you quickly stopped caring about that the moment you saw the state of his face. His cheek was swollen and there was blood - fuck, you couldn’t even tell if it was his, there was so much of it.

He looked around your apartment wildly, seeming terrified until his eyes finally settled on you.

“Billy -” you moved to reach for him, not expecting him to recoil, - “- hey, Billy, it’s okay. You’re alright.”

Already your stomach was tying itself in knots, not sure what you were supposed to do. The way he looked at you put you in mind of that cold, dark street weeks ago, the way he’d told you about his ‘friend’ and about his nightmares. And you felt just as out of your depth now as you did then.

He took another step back looking at you as if he was afraid, but not of you.

“Billy, what happened?” You tried again, this time standing your ground, not trying to move any closer to him.

“I don’t -” he started and stopped, obviously struggling to find the words, “- I don’t remember. I don’t remember what I did, but I - I...”

You watched as he pressed a bloody hand to the side of his head, trying to ease the pressure of a bad headache.

“Frank, he - I didn’t - I -” 

Frank. The same person who’d sent Billy into a tailspin the last time.

“They say I did these terrible things but I - I don’t remember it. I don’t feel like it was me. I don’t feel like I could do that,” Billy tried to explain with a desperation that made your heart ache for him. “How could I - how could I do that?”

“Billy, please, just... let me see if you’re hurt,” you said softly, not sure what else you could do to help him.

He looked at you again with those wide and wild eyes, like he was scared of what might happen if he let you get near him. You quickly noticed that he was shaking. No. His body was practically vibrating, like he couldn't stop, couldn't stand still.

“You came to me so I could help you, right?” You continued. “I can’t help if you don’t let me see Billy.”

“No... no… it doesn’t - it’s not important, it’s not -” he let out an awful, pained sound as he struggled with himself roughly knocking the side of his head with a curled fist, trying to force his brain to work the way he needed it to. “If I can’t trust myself with that, how can I trust myself with you?”

“You don’t have to trust yourself, because I trust you.”

That seemed to settle something in him and Billy stilled, though he kept his fist pressed tight to the side of his head.

“You… trust me?” He asked, a telltale tremor in his voice.

You nodded and dared to take a step forward, your heart aching all the more when you noticed the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, desperate not to be shed.

Billy almost flinched as you reached for his wristed and slowly lowered his hand. Again, he looked at you as if he was a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck, trying to decide if he should bolt or not.

Slowly, delicately, you urged him towards a chair and managed to get him sitting down and, little by little, Billy seemed to settle. Not completely, but enough that he let you help him out of his jacket so you could get a better look.

“Stay here,” you told him, “I need to get something to clean you up with.”  

But the second you turned to leave, Billy's hand was around your wrist.

“Don't leave me,” he said in a broken, fractured tone. “I don't want to be alone anymore.”

That was the moment that broke you, the moment that had tears threatening to fill your eyes because you knew Billy wasn't just talking about that moment. You had no idea how much of his life he'd spent alone - probably even more than you had - but it pained you to hear him begging you not to leave him.

Stepping closer, you ran your fingers through his hair before pulling him towards you, letting him slip his arms around your waist and press his face to your stomach. It didn't even cross your mind that he was getting blood all over your satin slip, but even if it had, you wouldn't have cared.

Billy shuddered, taking awkward breath after awkward breath, and you held on to him, giving him time to let the panic settle. You didn't think anything of the wet patch growing on the front of your slip, you just focused all of your attention on trying to soothe him.

“I don't know who I am anymore,” he sobbed. “Why - why would I hurt him? Why would he hurt me?”

“Shhh, it's okay. It'll be okay,” you said even though you weren't sure that it was true. You had no idea what was going on or how to get him calm enough to explain it.

“He was my family. My brother. I don't know why I'd let them hurt him.”

You ran your fingers through his hair as he held you tighter, clinging to you like he was afraid you'd let him go.

“It's not you anymore,” you offered softly. “You said it yourself, you're different now. You've got me now. You don’t have to be the person that you were anymore.”

On some level you understood how utterly insane that you were being, but you couldn’t bear to see him hurting so much. It didn’t matter to you what he’d done in the past or how many people he’d hurt, because he wouldn’t hurt you. Finally, after years on your own, you felt like you’d found someone you were safe with and, selfishly, you didn’t want to give that up.

“I’ve got you now?” He asked softly, slowly lifting his head, letting you see his bloodshot eyes.

“Yeah, Billy. You’ve got me,” you answered, managing an uncertain smile, not sure what the revelation meant for either of you. “Now, will you let me clean you up?”

Billy hesitated, reluctant to let you go but, after a few seconds, he nodded.

It took you little more than thirty seconds to dart into the bathroom to grab your first aid supplies and a washcloth. 

When you returned, his head was between his hands and he just looked so... damaged. 

You ran the cloth under some warm water before kneeling in front of him, gently placing your hand beneath his chin and urging him to look up. Wiping the blood and muck from his face revealed a black-eye and split lip, and a gentle prodding of his nose left you sure that it wasn’t broken. 

Next you cleaned his hands, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes when you realised he’d reopened the wounds you patched up at the bar only a few days before. Again, there was nothing too serious beneath the blood, and you almost allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Then you saw it, that almost-missable dark patch on his shirt just above his waist. You pressed a hand to it and Billy gave a hiss of pain. Gingerly, you lifted his shirt and let out a hiss of your own.

“Did you get stabbed?” There was no hiding the panic in your voice, no matter how much you wanted to stay calm for him.

“I don’t - maybe? I don’t know...”

“I need to take your shirt off, okay?” You asked, already gripping the hem of his blood soaked shirt. Billy gave a nod and awkwardly lifted his arms. You moved as quickly as you could, trying not to hurt him, but wanting to get a better look at the wound. “Fuck, Billy, why didn’t you tell me?”

The wound didn’t look too serious, a glancing slash across his side, but it was bleeding a lot.

Remembering what he’d told you about how he felt pain, or sometimes didn’t, you wondered if he wouldn’t have just left it bleeding if you hadn’t noticed.

“I don’t know if it needs stitches,” you said, more to yourself than anything. “I - I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing fine,” he told you.

Slowly but surely, he was starting to sound like himself again, like his own panic had started to pass.

Pressing the cloth to the wound you looked up at him, watching the way his face twisted in pain, but that pain seemed to bring him back to the moment and pull him out of his head.

He looked down and slowly pulled your hand away from his side so he could see the wound.

“Yeah, kitten, it’s going to need stitches.”

And, then it was your turn to descend into panic.

“Fuck... okay...” you took an awkward breath, “I’ll get change and take you to the hospital and -”

“I can’t go to the hospital.”

Of course he couldn’t. He was wanted for murder.

“Then how -” you started to ask and immediately felt sick when you saw the way he was looking at you. “No. No, Billy. I - I can’t.”

“You can, kitten. I’ll talk you through it,” he said, somehow becoming the picture of calm. “We just need a needle and some thread... and that bottle of vodka, if you’ve still got it.”

Despite every single alarm bell in your head starting to sound, you got up and got everything that he’d asked for. You settled beside him, letting him do the honours of pouring vodka over the wound to clean it out.

“Now, you just need to pinch the edges together and sew it up, just like fixing a hole in a t-shirt,” he told you softly.

Your hands trembled and you almost threw up in your mouth but, somehow, you managed to clumsily sew him up. 

By the time you had the wound closed and a bandage wrapped around him, you were so tired and emotionally fraught that you found yourself bursting into tears.

“Kitten,” Billy said softly, wrapping his arms around you pulling you against his chest, “it’s okay, it’s done now.”

It took a couple of minutes for you to get it all out, kneeling on the floor between his legs, holding him as tight as he’d held you only half an hour before.

“Don’t you ever do this to me again,” you told him between awkward, sobbed breaths. “You can’t come into my life and then make me lose you.”

“I won’t,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise you won’t lose me. I’ll never leave you. You’re all I want.”

All you could think about was how you might lose him and how much it would hurt. This was why you never wanted to get close to him. This was why you never wanted to care. But it was too late to think like that. There was nothing that either of you could say or do to stop the feelings that had started to flourish inside of you, and you both knew it.

Somehow, Billy managed to coax you off the floor and the pair of you headed for the bathroom, where he cleaned his blood off your hands and helped you change into a clean slip. Then the pair of you got into bed.

You rest your head on his shoulder, awkwardly draping your arm over him, trying to avoid his bandages.

For the longest time, the both of you remained quiet, but you could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. You weren’t sure if he planned on sleeping and, despite your exhaustion, you weren’t sure that you could sleep. At least, not yet.

“I meant it,” you said softly. “I can’t do this if you’re going to turn up covered in blood like this. I can’t do this if I have to spend every day wondering if you’re going to turn up dead somewhere.”

“I know,” he answered just as softly. “And you won’t have to. I promise I’m going to take care of it, then it’ll just be me and you, okay?”

“Okay.”

You weren’t sure what you were really agreeing to and, honestly, you didn’t care. As long as Billy was safe and with you, you didn’t care.

End Note : Aaaaaaaah it's getting so close to the end now. I don't know if next weeks chapter will be the last proper chapter before the epilogue or if I'll need to break it into two parts but, yea, I hope you're all ready for a wild ride to see how this Punisher season 2 adjacent fic pans out. Also sorry if there are any dumb typos, i got stuck working late and didn't get as much time to proof-read as I normally do.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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[mediumgayitalian]

When Nico asks him out, there is vomit on his scrubs. His hair is disgusting. The bags under his eyes are actually the size of Texas, and he was born there so he says it in good confidence.

Also, it goes right over his head.

“Gods, yeah,” Will sighs, relieved. “Yeah, I could —” He laughs, a little hysterically, scrubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink the sudden onslaught of dizzy away. “I’m starving. I am — tired of this stupid room. I could use dinner out.”

“Great,” Nico says, rocking back on his heels. He twists his skull ring around his finger, like he does when he’s nervous, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that Will has learned, in the past few weeks of his help in the infirmary, is a smile. “I’ll — um, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Will glances down at the rapidly-drying splatter of vomit spreading from his right shoulder all the way down to his belly button. The nasty brown-yellow colour of it clashes so violently with the mint-green of his scrubs that it might be a felony, actually. The one whole spaghetti noodle smack in the middle of it does not help.

“Yeah, I’ll need at least that long in the shower.”

Nico’s face goes through a very complicated string of emotions. “I think you look nice,” he offers.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nice’, di Angelo,” Will snorts. He gestures behind him. “Bye, Nico. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Right. Bye, Will.”

“Hey, first name status!”

“Shut up, Solace. Go change your shirt.”

Will snickers, jogging down the Big House stairs with a backwards wave. He hustles past campers jogging towards their daily activities, ducking into the Apollo cabin before someone can ask him for something.

It’s been a busy few weeks.

The Giant War was…well. It’s over, now, is the point, but it was not without casualties, and it was not without injury, and injury, and injury. Plus the flu that just had to hit right before the Romans were about to head back to California. Will has spent more nights in the infirmary in the last few weeks than he ever has, including after the Titan War. Understaffed does not begin to cover it. He had to beg Cecil for his secret Redbull stash after his third straight day on his feet, praying to his father, his aunt, and any other god who was listening to keep his hands from shaking. Without Nico’s help — well, he doesn’t want to think about how things would have gone without Nico’s help.

He’d slept through his promised three days in the infirmary. Will had restitched his werewolf scratching (—his werewolf scratches his fucking werewolf scratches his fucking shitting goddamn werewolf scratches that he stitched with sewing thread and left for gods know how many days and Will is going to quit his job, he is, he is going to live in a hut in the Florida Everglades and chase questers away with a fucking broom—) as he slept on the first day, then spent the next days glaring at him in seething jealousy.

He had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to sleep so godsdamn badly. And yet. He was plastering salve on the translucent fingers of a dumbass who pushed himself too hard.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will had mocked, ignoring the yelled you’re losing it, Willy! from Kayla as she passed by. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I can shadow travel wherever I want. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. Catch me I’m about to pass out. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

“I never asked you to catch me,” muttered Nico, groggily, and Will had screamed.

Not his best moment.

Luckily, his string of colourful cursing had killed any idea that Will was scared of him, or something, and the list of chores he’d doled out the second he made sure Nico could walk had put the idea in the grave.

He still can’t quite believe that Nico actually, like…listened. But he’s a good bandage cutter (very accurate) and, as a super fun bonus, the Romans were all scared of him, so when they tried to get out of their cots while their limbs were literally hanging onto them by a thread, Will just had Nico stand behind him and glare at them until they sat their asses back down.

(“You are without a doubt the best nurse I’ve ever had,” Will had grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Austin, who lazily tried to trip him. Nico had rolled his eyes, huffing as if he thought Will was joking.)

“Wow,” says Cecil, sitting in Will’s bed for some reason. He rakes his eyes up and down his body, whistling appreciatively at the towel around his waist. Will rolls his eyes and starts digging through his dresser drawers. “Look at you! So human-like! No zombie eyebags to be seen!”

“Showers don’t erase eyebags, dick for brains.”

“True, but you’re so hot when you’re not covered in blood and vomit that I can overlook them.”

“Kiss my ass, Cecil.”

“Really? Is that permission?”

Will laughs, admitting defeat. He tugs on a pair of boxers, then tosses a few clothing options on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be out, Zeus’ beard. Nico’s taking me to dinner; d’you know if it’s cold in the city? And I should probably wear real shoes, right, Annabeth mentioned something about New York bacteria —”

“Woah, woah, hold on, William, pause there for a second.”

Will looks up, frowning. “What?”

“Nico’s taking you to dinner?”

Cecil’s eyes are wide. Reflexively, Will pats his chin, paranoid he’s got something on his face.

“…Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing.” Quickly, Cecil schools his face back to its usual smirk, leaning casually against the bedpost. (He misses. Mercifully, Will decides to let it slide and wait for him to straighten himself. He’s a good friend, like that.)

“Well, obviously something.”

“Nope! I’m just —” He softens. “I’m glad you’re taking a break, Willy. We’ve been worried about you. Remind me to send him a lock pick set.”

“Most people send fruit,” Will suggests gently. He cuffs Cecil playfully on the jaw, rolling his eyes when Cecil catches his hand and presses a loudly exaggerated kiss to it. “Or flowers. Also, don’t call me Willy.”

“Sorry, Willy.”

“Gods, you’re infuriating.”

“Mhm. And yet you adore me. Oou, wear the grey plaid shirt, it makes your eyes look bluer. And for the love of Hermes, do not wear shorts.”

———

At seven o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?”

“Nico!” Will says brightly. “Hi! You don’t have to wait by the door, dorkus. Come in.”

With a second of hesitation, Nico steps in. The usually creaky floorboards are silent under his black Chucks. Will chooses to believe that’s on purpose, because it’s cooler.

“You can sit if you want! Unless we gotta leave right away. I wasn’t actually sure, are we just going to McDonald’s or something? Also, I told Cecil he couldn’t come, I figured three would make it a party or something but lemme know if we’re bringing friends along and —”

“We’re not,” Nico interrupts.

“—tell them.” Will blinks at him, then smiles. “Just you and me, then.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah.” He glances up at Will, and away again, like he can’t hold his gaze for too long. He looks a little flushed. “You, uh. You braided your hair.”

“What? Oh!” Will touches the French braids on either side of his head, smiling. “Yeah, I finally had the time. Keeps my hair back better than much else. Hey, Nico, you good? You looked flushed, maybe you should —”

Nico catches his hand. He smiles.

“I’m fine, Solace. You just look nice, is all.”

Will snorts. “No kidding. Anything’s better than the vomit shirt.”

———

Nico refuses to answer any of his questions about where they’re going.

Or, well. Will asks him and endless string of questions and receives only hums or nods in response, except for the odd huff of laughter when Will pouts.

“C’mon! Can’t I just know where we’re going?”

“You’re about to.”

“I mean now, Death Breath.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

“Ugh.”

Nico places a fleeting hand on his elbow as they reach the base of Half-Blood Hill, stalling him.

“Wait.”

Will pauses, listening. His heartbeat picks up. Monster? Monsters?

He glances over at Nico, noticing the tension in his face, the twist to his mouth, the —

Oh, no he doesn’t.

“Hold it, Gerard Way!”

Nico startles.

“What?”

“I know that face! You are not shadow-travelling us to the city, no way, no how, do you want to dissolve —”

“Will,” Nico interrupts, laughing softly, “Will, trust me for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Nico blinks. Will flushes.

“That was fast.”

“Well! Well.”

“I’m not shadow-travelling,” Nico promises, changing the subject when it’s clear Will has nothing to say. “I’m just summoning our ride. I promise it won’t drain me.”

“…Fine.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nico screws up his face again. The tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose are more obvious when he wrinkles it. Will has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from touching them.

One moment, there’s nothing but empty road in front of them. The next, there’s a massive fucking limo, driven by what Will can only describe as a ghoul.

“There,” Nico says happily. “Our ride!”

He jogs over to the sleek black limo, leaving Will gaping. With a quick hand to keep the driver from getting up, he opens the back door, gesturing broadly.

“C’mon, Sunshine.”

Will recovers quickly. He’s never been in a limo before — hell, he’s hardly ever been in cars. He slides into the black leather seats, gaping, barely noticing Nico ducking in and closing the door behind him.

“Cleveland and Merrick, please, Jules-Albert.”

Limos are crazy.

If hotel mini bars were, like, physical places rather than tiny bottles in mini fridges, they would look like limos. The windows are tinted, so the interior is dark, illuminated a softly glowing red by strips of LEDs. There is an actual TV screen, although it’s not on. Will feels like James Bond.

“Gift from my dad,” Nico explains. “He knows he can’t always be there to drive me around, so he got Jules-Albert to take me places. He’s cool. He even answers to me, technically, and not my dad, so if anything happens back here he won’t snitch.” Nico gets so violently red he damn near goes invisible under the LEDs. “Not that — I mean, it’s more like —”

“That is so cool,” Will breathes. “Oh my gods, Nico, you are literally the coolest demigod in the world.”

“Hah,” says Nico weakly. The limo (!!) slows to a stop. “We are — here, let’s go!”

Nico practically throws himself out of the limo. Will takes one last look, thanks Jules-Albert, and hurries out after him.

———

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Nico looks at him defensively. The corner of his mouth twitches. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Apollo Restaurant Diner, reads the garish, flashing yellow sign. Seniors half-off!

Will nudges Nico’s side as they walk in. “You should ask for the discount.”

“Keep it up and you’re paying for yourself, Solace.”

Nico guides them into a booth by the window before he can say anything. In seconds, a server is strolling up to them, popping their bubblegum and grinning.

“Welcome to Apollo’s, where if we don’t predict your order, it’s free! I’ll get you guys some sodas, and…hm. Fries to share, I think.”

They’re off, ponytail bouncing, before either of them can say anything.

“Well,” says Nico after a moment. “I guess we’re having fries.”

Will snorts. “You love fries. You love anything fried and battered, because there is nothing you love more than poor decision making.”

“Caught me, Solace.”

“Aw. I thought —”

Their server pops back in with their sodas, nodding as they thank them.

“— I thought I was bumped up to first name status! You called me Will earlier.”

Nico slurps obnoxiously at his cherry coke.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Not a jury in the world will believe you, Solace.”

Will blows his straw wrapper at him. Nico barely dodges, laughing — a real, open laugh, where some of the guard drops from his shoulders, where his smile is wide enough to show his teeth, where his dark eyes cringe near shut.

“You’re so lame. Get your stupid straw wrapper away from me.”

Will feels like he doesn’t respond for ages, mesmerized by the crooked curve of Nico’s smile. There’s mischief in that smile, and oddly it makes shyness bloom in Will’s chest, it makes the tips of his ears red, makes him duck his head.

Will’s saved from trying to come up with a comment by the massive — truly gigantic — platter of fries set between them.

“Holy shit,” breathes Will, alarmed.

“Holy shit,” breathes Nico, eyes wide. The smile grows wider. “Holy shit!”

Will’s stomach growls. He’s reminded how truly hungry he is, and without another word, the two of them dig in.

They end up ordering another platter. Will theorizes that, in total, they eat at least seven whole potatoes.

“How many fries do you think is in one potato?”

“A yukon?” says Will. “Like, twenty-five, at least. Wait, hold on, pass me your napkin, lemme do the math.”

“Gods, you are such a nerd.”

Will loses count of how many times they refill their sodas. Too many. Camp food is usually very healthy — as head medic, Will has to set an example, but it’s just Nico, here. Will eats himself into a minor food coma and relishes in it. When Nico asks if he wants to order one of the giant milkshakes, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Duh. Strawberry.”

“Gross, Solace. Vanilla or nothing.”

“Basic ass bitch.”

“At least I’m not vying for strawberry!”

By the time Nico gets up to go get their bill, the sun has long since set. Will realises he forgot to put his watch back on after his shower, and has no idea what time it actually is.

“Nine-thirty ish,” Nico says, opening the limo door for him. “We’ll be back at camp at ten.”

Will grimaces. “Fuck. Will Jules-Albert chill overnight? If we try to go back to our cabins, the curfew harpies are gonna eat us.”

“Scared, Solace?”

Nico’s eyes are bright and teasing. Will wonders how the hell other campers find him so frightening — the little twitches of his mouth are so obvious. Some people are just oblivious.

“Of course I’m scared, you dickhead. What am I gonna do, sing a hymn until they go away?”

Nico snorts. “You worry too much. They’re afraid of me, you know. They’ll steer clear.”

“You have a lot of confidence in how much you scare people, which is crazy for someone who’s five eight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Will grins. “Never.”

The drive back to camp feels shorter than it is. The limo’s seats are stupid comfortable, and Nico is a warm presence beside him, and more than anything, Will is exhausted. Last time he slept was — Thursday? He’s pretty sure? He definitely slept on Wednesday, and he’s pretty sure Kayla locked him in the back office with a pillow on Thursday. But maybe that was this morning.

“Will, hey.” A cool, calloused hand brushes over his forehead, and he leans into it, humming. “Get up, you loser. We’re here.”

Will groans. “Five more minutes.”

The soft, gravelly chuckles are the most musical things he’s ever heard. “Up you get, Sunshine, or I’ll let the harpies eat you.”

That gets Will up fast. He shoves Nico away, who’s still snickering at him, grumbling as he crawls out of the limo.

“It’s like you want me to die of stress.”

“Nah.”

They wave goodbye to Jules-Albert, who disappears in a blink. Halfway up the hill, a hand closes around his. Will glances over to Nico in surprise, but he looks resolutely ahead.

“I can feel you freaking out.” He clears his throat. “I told you, Solace. I’ll protect you.”

“That’s not what you said,” Will grumbles, but it’s hard to get his attitude across when his cheeks ache from smiling.

Nico ends up being right — the harpies steer clear of them. He looks very smug about being right, smirking all the way up to the Apollo Cabin door. He walks him up the creaking steps, pausing at the door. He lets go of Will’s hand, which is kind of a bummer. Will had liked holding his hand — physical proof that Nico was becoming more comfortable with him.

“So,” Nico says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” Will parrots, grinning. He grins wider at Nico’s scowl, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the Apollo cabin. “I had fun tonight, Nico. I needed that.”

Nico’s whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Will smiles at him again. “Thank you.”

For a second, Nico’s slight smile melts into a more serious expression. Will finds himself lingering, searching Nico’s face. Waiting.

Quick as a dart, Nico leans up and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“Oh,” Will breathes, eyes wide. His fingers come up and brush the spot Nico kissed, skin tingling.

Nico looks at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

It takes Will a solid few seconds to answer. Even then, it’s not any recognizable words — more of an embarrassing hnnnnngh wha.

Nico grins. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Nico — wait.”

“Harpies, Sunshine.”

Will could swear he sees Nico’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks away. Which — huh! Pardon! Excuse.

“Nico! Was! Was this a date!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Will.”

“Nico!”

Nico disappears down the bend without answering. Will manages to catch the curve of his smile before he goes.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

[janeyseymour]

stick season

summary: it's stick season. Hurt.

WC: ~1.85k

Feel free to listen to my cover of the Noah Kahan song!

Melissa has been your girlfriend for a year now. And she just joined you on a long weekend to go visit your hometown up in Vermont. Your parents absolutely adored Melissa, giving you the stamp of approval on your newest girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier about that. 

It was warm, it was cozy, it was perfect. Or at least that’s what you thought. But apparently you were wrong, because the drive back to Philly just felt wrong.

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined, you must have had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive, because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign; kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right.

Melissa had told you that it was entirely worth all of the miles you were putting on her car to go up there with you over the weekend, and you can’t help but smile with joy. And then she’s kissing the back of your hand and promising you that you were more than all of those miles combined.

But then, about halfway through the car ride home, there’s a shift. She takes her hand off of your thigh as she drives, and when she passes the exit that she usually would to take you back to your apartment, she goes silent, biting her lip as if she’s deep in thought.

When she pulls in to her own driveway, she looks to you sadly.

“Hun? What’s wrong?” you ask, clearly concerned about this sudden shift in attitude. 

She bites her lip nervously. “Y/N, I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

“Do what?” you ask, although deep down you know what she’s hinting at.

She gestures between the two of you. “This. I- I’m not ready for the commitment that you’re ready for… you want to get married and have kids, and move back up to Vermont, and I can’t do that. I- I’m sorry.”

You leave her house in a puddle of tears. The uber driver that gets the misfortune of taking you home gives you quite a few concerned looks through the rear-view mirror.

Now I am stuck between my anger, and the blame that I can’t face, and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace. And I’m terrified of weather cause I see you when it rains. Doc told me to travel but there’s Covid on the planes.

You’re furious. You don’t know who you’re more mad at: yourself or Melissa. She just spent the last three nights with you up in Vermont playing the part of perfect girlfriend before dumping you and leaving you to explain to your parents that you’re single again. And you’re mad at yourself because you knew she didn’t want the future you did, but you had foolishly hoped she would change her mind. You suppose you should take the blame for that one, but you don’t want to face it- admit that it was your fault for putting blind faith in her.

Deciding that you need to relax, you roll yourself a joint, but the memories of you and Melissa over the past year just continue to replay in your mind. And for the first time ever since you started smoking weed, it doesn’t help the pain you feel in your chest. The drug might be able to remedy physical aches and pains, but it sure as hell can’t fix a broken heart; you’re not sure anything can right now.

You don’t leave your house for the next few weeks unless absolutely necessary. You’re a mopey mess, and your therapist finally tells you that you should travel. And you consider going back to Vermont because being in the same city as your now ex-girlfriend hurts too much. But there’s Covid on the planes, and you can’t quite justify driving up to Vermont on Friday night just to leave again on Sunday morning. Come Friday, you really do still toy with the idea of making your way back to your parents’ house, but there’s a cold front making it’s way through the Mid-Atlantic all the way up through New England, and you’re not about to attempt to drive through seven hours of rain and wind. Besides, when it rains, you can only think of Melissa. She used to have you dance out in the rain with her before cozying up on the couch and watching movies. She claimed it was the only way to spend a rainy day.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

There’s a season that happens in New England when Fall starts to make its exit and Winter presents itself- and every year, around stick season, your life changes. Melissa came during stick season last year, and she left during this stick season. It hurts.

You end up seeing her mother at the grocery store, and you look like a wreck. You give her a shy wave just to be polite- things may have ended with her daughter, but it’s clear to you that she’s entirely forgotten about your existence or previous presence in Melissa’s life.

That stings, and you make your way to the alcohol aisle, throwing a few bottles of wine in your cart so you can mope and play the victim at home tonight. You suppose you’ll just drink until a few of your friends from college come home for Christmas.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad. No, I am no longer funny cause I miss the way you laugh.

For the childhood that you had with your father, the relationship that you have with him as a grown woman is nothing short of a miracle. Because of everything you witnessed growing up as a child with having your father for a Dad, you came out better. You knew where to draw the line with certain things. You were funny because of the trauma that he caused you though too… but you aren’t funny anymore because the off color jokes that you used to make were usually just there for Melissa- and you miss the way she laughs. So now, you’re back to the quiet and shy, reserved person that you used to be before she brought out the best (and worst) in you.

You once called me forever, now you still can’t call me back. 

You remember when she told you that she was going to be yours forever. You didn’t think that she would ever say something like that- you knew that she hadn’t ever wanted to get married again, but you continued to pursue her romantically. And it was all looking really good for you, until she broke up with you.

You’ve called her a few times, to beg and grovel for her to take you back- tell her that you didn’t care about marriage and children as long as it meant you got to keep her in your life, but she refused to pick up the phone or call you back.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

You end up flying home after a few weeks because you simply can’t bear the pain of this heartbreak alone, and you can’t quite justify driving for a weekend. It’s still stick season though, and you feel the cool air wash over you as you exit the airport and try to hail a cab back to your childhood home.

After the flight back home, you see Melissa’s mother at the airport. She has a sign that she’s holding indicating that she’s picking someone up. But she doesn’t see you, and after the last meeting with her, you doubt she remembers you… she’s definitely forgotten about your existence by now.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your breakup with the Schemmenti was half your fault at this point, but you still take the Septa to get closer to your house before stopping at a liquor store- with the intention of once again playing the victim and drowning your sorrows in a bottle of tequila.

Maybe once you’ve seen some of your old college friends, you’ll head back north to see your hometown friends when they come.

And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

That redheaded beauty has haunted your dreams since you broke up with her. And you miss her dearly. But in each of your dreams, she’s a different version of herself, and it’s quite odd. Somewhere deep inside though, you know none of the versions of Melissa that your mind had made up are her- so you didn’t really lose her in a sense.

You always wake up though and sigh. She isn’t next to you like she should be. And when you head into your living room, you see a pair of her shoes that she left here and hasn’t asked to get back yet.

Your heart splits in half every time you see those shoes. You should just throw them out at this point, but you don’t want to touch them- if they’re there, maybe she’ll come back to you one day. 

Oh that’ll have to do… My other half was you. I hope this pain’s just passing through, but I doubt it.

She really was your other half, and you hope that the pain that you feel every time you see her shoes passes eventually, but you doubt it will.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas. And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

Stick season passes by, and you’re still left on your own. Christmas time comes, and you find yourself with a bottle in your hand almost every night to try to help numb the pain. It’s becoming less and less, but you still miss her with all your heart. You know that being split in half will just have to do… maybe next stick season will bring you something happy again.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/Ysera ❛ word count: 4.5k ┊ ❛ rating: T ❛ tags/cw: holiday fluff, romance, and some feel-good holiday vibes

▸ preview: “I could, though, you know?” she asks, leaning against the railing. Her eyes wander over the water again. “Just the two of us, doing whatever makes us happy. Just because we want to do it. We deserve that much after everything, don't we?”

The sincerity of it hits him harder than he had anticipated. He recognizes the unspoken meaning in her words, that longing for a life she had long since given up on having.

The same way he had given up, too – before her, before she changed everything.

AO3 ┊ masterlist

▸ taglist: @xxnashiraxx, @zozoparsnips

Seven days, fifteen hours, and thirty three minutes. It's a rough estimation, of course, but as he glances at the hands on the ornate clock in the corner of Gale's dining room, Astarion is quite certain it's been at least that long since he's had a proper conversation with Ysera.

She'd been away in Waterdeep on business before Gale came to collect him, paraded around amongst the wizard's curious students and asked to give several talks on her part in the battle that had saved Baldur's Gate – and perhaps all of Faerûn – from certain destruction. He'd been invited too, of course, but politely declined to avoid feeling like an animal on display. And at any rate, it wasn't the kind of attention he liked, but instead the kind where people expected him to say something poignant or inspire them to greatness.

“Gale says they've been asking about you,” she'd told him, hoping he might reconsider. “Word has it they're quite enamored with the only vampire in the realm who could walk in the sun and live to tell the tale.”

“Well of course they are, darling. Why wouldn't they be? I'm certain you'll paint them an accurate picture of my exploits. But don't be afraid to embellish a little, hmm?”

There were other reasons he hadn't chosen to come with her, but he'd kept those a closely guarded secret. 

The hand in his pocket grasps the jewelry box tucked against his thigh, fingertips brushing against the soft velvet exterior. He'd been eyeing the ring inside for weeks in secret, and only after Ysera had left the city had he felt comfortable enough to acquire it without her accidentally stumbling upon it.

He'd even purchased it with his own money, a hefty sum that nearly made him consider simply pocketing it instead, but something about doing that had felt wrong, insincere. And so he'd spent the last three months of his earnings in what was simultaneously one of the riskiest and most sentimental decisions of his life.

Even more surprising to him was that he hadn't once regretted it, or felt foolish for indulging in such a romantic gesture.

Presently, he's busy reminiscing on all the decisions that led him to this particular moment when he spots her again, a blur of pink and silver and gold as Ysera rushes down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She bounds past him and into the kitchen, and her voice joins with Lae’zel’s, Shadowheart’s, and Halsin’s as they discuss the progress of tonight's supper.

It had been Gale's idea in the first place to organize a celebration during the winter solstice. In truth, it was more of an excuse to gather everyone under the same roof, especially considering the times they were able to do so had grown few and far between.

Even Wyll and Karlach had been able to join them for a brief respite from the hells, though the stink of sulphur and brimstone still clung to their clothes hours after their arrival. Ysera had been so excited to see them that she'd hardly protested when Karlach pulled her into a hug so fierce Astarion was convinced she might crack a few ribs in the process.

“Soldier! Look at you!”

Suffice to say, he was much less reluctant to accept the firm handshake and embrace Wyll had offered him, even as Karlach had tried to scoop them both into her arms as well.

He's been hoping to grab Ysera's attention for the better part of the afternoon, but she'd been swept up in the chaos, rarely getting more than a minute or two to speak with him before someone else was whisking her away for help with one thing or another. 

It isn't that he’s jealous – not really. The rest of them want to spend time with her for many of the same reasons he does, after all. But that doesn't stop him from feeling so sour or prevent the deep scowl that creases his brow.

He huffs an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair to rearrange his perfectly tousled curls. Patience, he reminds himself. He hadn't initially intended to bring the ring with him in the first place, but the moment he saw Ysera here again in Waterdeep he was glad he had, his mind set on giving it to her. If anything, it was more outrageous that he had waited this long at all.

It's better that he ignores the lingering doubts that leave him wondering what he might do if she rejects him.

That task is made far easier when the door to his left slams open as Karlach's foot juts into the dining room, and Astarion starts before turning towards the sound.

“Look alive, Fangs! This is supposed to be a celebration, not a wake.”

Karlach stumbles into the room with an armful of decorations, an assortment of ornaments and garland and other trinkets that smell strongly of pine. She dumps half the pile unceremoniously into Astarion's arms, and he scoffs before shooting her a defiant look.

“Just what do you think you're –”

“Make yourself useful and help me decorate,” she interjects, glancing down at him. “Gale wants this place looking nice and festive before supper.” A wide, toothy grin splits her face before she adds, “He says there's no ladder, but I'd be more than happy to put you on my shoulders if you need to reach the high places.”

Astarion's face twists into a look of silent fury, a single, gleaming fang emerging behind his pursed lips. Karlach merely throws her head back and lets out a boisterous laugh before making her way down the hall and out of sight, leaving Astarion fuming in her wake.

Astarion gets his revenge by upending the decorations on the table and glaring daggers at them. He sniffs and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall to continue his brooding. But when his eyes scan the discarded decorations again, something catches his attention beneath a string of silver tinsel. 

Astarion plucks the thing in question from the pile with deft fingers and holds it up to the light, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.

Oh, yes, this will do rather nicely.

────

Ysera is careful to take her time as she slowly makes her way down the hall towards the dining room, concentrating on putting one foot solidly in front of the other. In her arms is a large wooden platter piled high with various breads, meats, jams, and cheeses, which Gale had carefully entrusted to her after she had insisted so adamantly that she was up for the task.

Her arms shake and her muscles burn as she tiptoes carefully into the dining room, exhaling loudly when she finally sets the platter down in the center of the table. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching, Ysera picks several of the finer pieces of meat and cheese from the spread, stacking them in her palm before shoving them happily into her mouth.

She closes her eyes and savors the rich flavors with a happy sigh, tail twirling behind her as she bounces from foot to foot. Within seconds, she's got another handful of food prepared, eating it just as quickly as the last.

Astarion's footsteps nearly scare the soul out of her as he strides into the room and surveys her with a click of his tongue.

“You'll ruin your appetite.”

She turns towards him and gives him a sullen look. “But it's so good,” she insists. “Gale's got all the fancy stuff I can't find back home. And aren't you always telling me to ‘indulge in the finer things in life’?” 

She mimics his voice as best she can while reciting his advice, and a flicker of amusement flashes in Astarion's crimson eyes. He steps forward and wipes a stray bit of jam from the corner of her mouth, cleaning his hands on the tablecloth.

“Yes, but I always had something far more… extravagant in mind. You could do a lot better than party snacks, my dear.”

“Could do a lot worse, too,” she pouts, popping a bit of sliced sausage into her mouth. They look at each other for a moment, and when a sheepish smile spreads across her face, Astarion sighs in defeat and rolls his eyes affectionately at her. He opens his mouth to say something, but a commotion from the kitchen has Ysera whirling on her heel.

“Ah… I should get back,” she says hurriedly. “I forgot that Shadowheart still wanted my help with –”

Before Ysera's taken more than two steps, Astarion's snatched her by the wrist, holding her in place. Her golden eyes are wide when she turns to face him, torn between her compulsion to help the rest of their friends and the alternative of ditching her responsibilities to sneak off with Astarion instead.

“She can wait,” he says matter-of-factly, voice dropping an octave and washing over her like the caress of a velvet glove. She knows that tone, low and seductive and colored with just enough mischief to promise that whatever he wants will be more than worth her while.

“Allow me to borrow you for a moment. You've done more than enough for one afternoon as it is.”

Whatever hesitation she still feels melts away beneath his crimson gaze, and Ysera pulls her wrist free from his grasp to interlock their fingers.

“That sounds like a good idea, actually.”

Astarion smirks triumphantly back at her.

“The only kind I have, darling.”

────

He leads Ysera down the hall and away from any prying eyes, finally pulling her into the open doorway of what must be Gale's study. There's a fire still burning in the hearth, and the flames cast warm, flickering shadows over her face. He's always found Ysera attractive, but there's something about the way the light reflects in her eyes like a stained glass mosaic of gold and amber that still seizes his unbeating heart every time he sees it. 

There's so much life, so much passion in those striking eyes of hers that threatens to swallow him whole. He's heard it said that drowning is a peaceful way to die, and as he gazes into the depths of her eyes he believes it.

She looks up at him as he studies her, instinctively stepping into his personal space to enjoy the nearness of him – his scent, his familiar coolness, everything that she had so deeply missed during their time apart. Her hand settles on the breast of his waistcoat, admiring his handiwork. 

“Like what you see, my sweet?”

Astarion rarely finds himself falling back into old habits these days, but it's easier to mask his anxieties beneath the familiar veneer of confidence that had served him for so many years.

“Yes,” she whispers simply, “but you don't need me to tell you what you already know.”

“Ah,” he chuckles, in response, “but I do so love to hear you say it.”

He lifts his eyes towards the top of the doorframe, and her gaze follows closely behind. Ysera tilts her head curiously before glancing back at him.

“Mistletoe?”

The shimmer of magic that enchants the crisp leaves and pearl-white berries is unmistakable, some sort of spell Gale must have put on them to preserve them from decay.

“That's right,” Astarion says, placing a hand on her hip. The contact excites them both in equal measure, and his fingers tighten in the soft robes that adorn her body.

“And that means I finally have an excuse to kiss you.”

Ysera blinks in confusion.

“You don't need an excuse to kiss me, Astarion,” she says, frowning. 

“Don't I?” Astarion asks. “I don't think I've had more than five minutes with you all afternoon. It all leaves a man feeling rather… neglected, don't you think?”

It's obvious that he's joking with her, but the quick flash of disappointment in his eyes is something she notices almost immediately. Despite everything, she can't help but feel a little guilty.

“I'm sorry,” Ysera starts, golden eyes wide and apologetic. She chews on her lip and holds up her hands. “I didn't mean to ignore you. I was so busy catching up with everyone else, and you know how much Gale loves to talk, and –”

She's rambling now, face growing hot beneath the amused smirk he levels at her as he lifts his brow. Astarion can feel her heart thundering in her chest as he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her close, using his body to cage her against the doorframe. Ysera's apologies die in her throat as he suddenly takes her by the chin, running the soft pad of his thumb across her lips. When her breath catches, pride surges through him.

She still flushes so beautifully beneath his touch.

“Shh.” His voice is low, face close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks. “Let's put that pretty mouth of yours to better use, shall we?”

As he drags his finger gently beneath her chin, Astarion coaxes Ysera's face closer to his own and captures her lips in a tender kiss. There is no urgency in the way he enjoys the softness of her mouth, running his tongue along her bottom lip before she opens her mouth to him. He takes his time with her, the hand beneath her chin sliding into the soft pink waves of her hair as he moans quietly in appreciation. Ysera sighs heavily as his nails rake across her scalp, letting her eyes flutter closed.

Astarion is the first to break away, mindful that Ysera needs to catch her breath. But she's on him again within seconds, letting him kiss her with a gentleness that makes her knees weak. By now their kissing has usually turned far more passionate, but this time, neither of them feel the urge to do so. 

Astarion, for his part, certainly doesn't mind. He takes the time to place a soft kiss on her brow, and her forehead is warm and comforting when he rests his against hers. Their noses brush against each other, and he can hear the longing in Ysera's voice when she murmurs, “I missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “I missed you too.”

Astarion withdraws the hand tangled in Ysera's hair to fish around in his pocket for the ring. He's halfway to presenting it to her when Karlach pops around the corner, and Astarion silently curses whichever of the gods have a particular vendetta against him today.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Karlach shouts. “When you're finished sucking each other's faces off or whatever, supper's ready.”

Ysera's face emerges from behind Astarion's shoulder, her expression apologetic.

“S-sorry Karlach,” she says with a shaky laugh, hiding her embarrassment poorly. "We'll be right – mmph!”

She finds herself bent back at the waist as Astarion dips her low and kisses her again, purposely moaning into her mouth loudly enough for Karlach to hear. The other tiefling has mercifully left them alone by the time he pulls Ysera back upright, and she shoves him playfully before making her way back towards the kitchen.

“You’re terrible! I guess we'd better not keep them waiting.”

────

It's long past supper now. The warmth of the blood from the boar the rest of them had eaten has long since cooled in his belly, and Astarion finds himself frustratingly cold as he searches for Ysera. Most of the others have retired to Gale's guest rooms for the evening, besides Halsin, who lays curled up in front of the roaring fire in his bear form, and Karlach, who’s splayed out across his side and nestled into his soft fur, snoring away without a care in the world.

Gale sits nearby in his armchair with a book in hand, indicating towards the stairs with a nod of his head when Astarion approaches. They exchange no more than a handful of words before Astarion ascends the stairs, hoping at last for the quiet moment he's been looking for all afternoon.

At last, he finds her on the balcony, staring out at the water. It's eerily quiet save for the sound of the waves lapping against the docks. A gust of wind rips past, and Ysera shivers before tugging her cloak around her shoulders, enveloping herself in a sea of shimmering white and gold.

He joins her at the railing, and her breath fans out in little puffs of steam when she turns to smile warmly at him. Something catches her attention then, and Ysera's eyes widen as she tips her head up to the sky, gaze focused on the soft grays and pinks that obscure everything but the faintest trace of moonlight.

“Oh, look!” she exclaims, “It's snowing.”

Astarion watches as Ysera braces herself on the railing and leans out over the water, tongue stuck out from behind her pointed teeth. He lifts a brow, utterly perplexed by her behavior.

“What in the hells are you doing?” he asks, instinctively slipping a hand around her waist when she leans just a little too far over the railing for his liking.

“Catching snowflakes,” she says, pouting when he doesn't immediately seem to understand. The expression on his face suggests she's said something completely outrageous.

“Don't tell me you've never…” she starts, cutting herself off mid sentence when she realizes what she's asking. Whatever memories he may have had of his childhood are nothing more than phantoms in his mind, shadows that slip through his hands like water whenever he tries to grasp them.

Perhaps he had caught snowflakes on his tongue when he was small, just as she had. Perhaps he had done a lot of things before Cazador had found him.

“Right. I'm sorry.” Ysera's face falls, and she averts her eyes as her guilt twists her expression into an uncomfortable grimace. Astarion says nothing, quietly placing his hands upon the railing and lifting his face towards the sky.

The snow is falling thickly now, settling in an icy blanket along the rooftops nearby. Astarion makes a small noise and sighs quietly through his nose, resisting the voice in his head that tells him how ridiculous he must look when he sticks out his tongue to catch a snowflake drifting towards him. No sooner has it melted on his tongue than does he hear Ysera's muffled laughter beside him, hand clapped over her mouth when he turns to frown at her.

“What?” he demands, pursing his lips. “What's so funny?”

Ysera's tail swishes two and fro beneath her cloak, her eyes bright as she grins stupidly at him. When Astarion's frown deepens, it only amuses her further.

“I never expected I'd see you doing anything so… ridiculous, that's all.”

Astarion scoffs, thankful for once he doesn't have the ability to blush. He looks away, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Well,” he says, feigning nonchalance, “don't get used to it, darling.”

Ysera's smile fades, and her voice grows unusually somber.

“I could, though, you know?” she asks, leaning against the railing. Her eyes wander over the water again. “Just the two of us, doing whatever makes us happy. Just because we want to do it. We deserve that much after everything, don't we?”

The sincerity of it hits him harder than he had anticipated. He recognizes the unspoken meaning in her words, that longing for a life she had long since given up on having.

The same way he had given up, too – before her, before she changed everything. 

The ring feels heavy in his pocket again, and he closes his fingers around the small velvet box. It brings him little comfort, knowing what he's about to do next. But if he waits any longer he fears he'll lose the courage to go through with it.

He hates the way his voice shakes when he steps towards her and says her name.

“Ysera…”

“Hmm?” She turns her head, concern written across her features when she notices the strained look on his face.

“What's with that look? Did I say something weird again? Gods…”

“No,” Astarion interjects, shaking his head. “No.”

Seconds pass – an eternity of silence as she gazes into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. Her heart stammers in her chest, uncertain what ails him as he huffs in frustration at his own reluctance.

This is stupid. He's being stupid. People ask this sort of thing all the time, right? So why is he so godsdamned nervous?

 “I – here…” he says, extracting the jewelry box from his pocket and offering it to her by way of explanation, “this is for you.”

Ysera quietly takes the velvet box from his hand and opens the lid to observe the glimmering gemstone inside. The fire opal nestled into the silver ring band is massive, a harmonious mix of sun-kissed golds and ruby reds that nearly take her breath away.

Red and gold. The colors of their eyes, a perfect pair contained in one vibrant stone. She brings it closer to her face and watches as it shifts and shimmers like a living flame.

Her chest tightens with an emotion she lacks the words to describe. Suffocating and liberating in equal measure. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes but she blinks them back.

“It – it's beautiful,” Ysera whispers, glancing up at Astarion. Her lips tremble slightly, but she wears a smile when she turns to face him.

“Thank you.” 

Her finger delicately traces the gemstone, admiring its craft.

“This must have cost a fortune, where did you –”

Astarion interrupts her with a swift shake of his head. Instead, he lays a hand gently over hers and brushes his thumb over her wrist.

“Nevermind that,” he says softly. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Ysera answers immediately, tucking the box close to her chest.

And then something dawns on her, so suddenly she's almost embarrassed that it didn't cross her mind until now. The roundness of Astarion’s eyes and the softness of his smile only seems to confirm her suspicions, and her tail flicks anxiously as she hesitates to ask him:

“Wait a second. Are… are you asking me to marry you?”

It's not as though she would say no, but it's all so sudden – too sudden, and –

“Am I?” Astarion asks. He pauses and shrugs, delighted by the expression on her face. “Well, darling, I suppose I am. I would have preferred it to be somewhere much nicer than a dusty old wizard’s tower, but… well, here we are nonetheless.”

“I’m gonna tell Gale you said that,” she says conspiratorially.

Astarion barks out a laugh. “Oh, please do. Someone ought to tell him. Did you see all those books he has? It's a little on the nose, even for a wizard, don't you think?”

Ysera giggles and tucks herself into his arms when he pulls her close, nestling her face against his chest. Astarion holds her for a moment, both of them content with simply enjoying one another's presence. After a moment, she steps away, finding his expression wistful when she looks at him again.

“Can you imagine?” he says, scrunching up his nose. “Me, a married man. That all sounds so… domestic.” He tips his head to the side, considering the idea. It isn't the first time the thought has drifted through his mind, but he decided long ago that he felt rather indifferent about the matter one way or the other. And after all, it hadn't mattered how their relationship was defined, so long as they were still together.

“Oh, yes,” Ysera teases him, hands on her hips as she leans forward with a serious expression that knits her brows. “What would your clients think? You have quite the reputation to maintain, after all.”

Astarion grins slyly at her, purposely baring his fangs to demonstrate his capabilities. He leans forward to press them into her neck, nibbling at her throat and peppering kisses across her skin with the express purpose of making her squirm.

“Stop!” she shouts, batting him away. “That tickles!”

Her facade crumbles and she dissolves into a fit of infectious laughter. Astarion finds himself joining in, the sound of her laugh kindling a warmth that blossoms in his chest and banishes the biting cold. 

The snow swirls around them and Astarion withdraws from her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Ysera's ear and brushing aside some of the snow that has begun to cling to her cloak. He takes the jewelry box from her hands and opens it again, extending the ring to her after a moment of quiet contemplation.

“That doesn't mean I still can't ask you to be mine,” he says softly, eyes tracking the flush that creeps across her cheeks and stains the tips of her ears a vibrant shade of pink. His expression has grown soft again, vulnerable in a way that he has never been with anyone but her.

“You will, won't you, darling?”

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Ysera merely holds out her hand in answer, tail swishing with barely contained excitement when Astarion slips the fire opal over her finger. She flexes her fingers to admire the stone once more before pulling him back into an affectionate embrace. Her heart beats fiercely in her chest, arms holding him protectively against her. When Ysera's hands smooth over his back, he buries his face into her neck and sighs.

“I’ve always been yours, Astarion.”

For the first time in a long time, Astarion feels like a stranger in his own body again. Like he's watching someone else's happy ending play out before his eyes, and only when Ysera pulls away and cups his face between her palms does the touch of her hands confirm that this is real – that she is here; warm, alive, and most importantly, his. And nothing can take that away from him anymore.

“I should have gotten you something too,” she sighs, smoothing her thumbs over his face. Astarion shakes his head and rests his hand over hers.

“I don't want anything in return,” Astarion says, murmuring the words against her lips as he kisses her again. “Not when I already have everything I need right here.”

Her arms slide over his shoulders, tail curling around his back. Ysera's magic roars to life within her, and time almost seems to stop as they stare at one another, her lashes crystalizing as she blinks through her tears. The snow hangs around them in suspended animation, a curtain of white that veils them within its frigid embrace.

It's quiet. Intimate. Their own little piece of paradise, stolen from everyone and everything that tried so hard to break them. He'd stay here with her forever, if he could.

Astarion wipes her tears away and slips his hands beneath her cloak to pull her flush against him. He lifts her off the balcony and carries her back into the warmth of Gale's home, pressing chaste kisses against her face and neck that make her sigh so sweetly.

And in their last moments together before the world stirs back to life around them, Astarion marvels at how she fits so perfectly in his arms, just as she always has – just as she always will.

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3 & Tumblr

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk, Blood kink, Anal.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 33: Pull your teeth out one by one

Chapter title is lyrics from "Kool-Aid”

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I was fuming.

And the reason for my horrendous mood was currently positioned on the opposite side of the bus from me, half sprawled on the sofa with his leg bouncing to the beat of whatever song Lee was leisurely plucking on his guitar.

It was three AM. Seven hours had passed since I’d delivered Fay to Oli’s dressing room, and I’m not sure anything could have prepared me for the emotional roller coaster that followed.

When I left Mats dressing room, post meltdown, I’d been motivated to face my fears. Maybe even push myself to tell Oli that I want more as soon as tonight — if it wasn’t already too late. But Oli didn’t make an appearance backstage until last call, when all he had time to do was grab the microphone and ascend the stage steps. 

During the hour I’d waited for him my motivation hadn’t just died, but I’d managed convince myself that any hopes of a future was dead and gone; that Oli and Fay had spent the past hour having sweaty reunion sex. As a result, all I could focus on during the quick glance I’d caught of Oli as he ran on stage, was his previously neat hair, now so unruly that the mental image of Fay’s manicured fingers pushing into it flooded me, which put me into a downward spiral of hopelessness that lasted most of the night.

I hadn’t even lasted two songs into the set before I had to leave the venue and go back to the tour bus, unable to watch the man I’d probably let slip through my fingers by my own pathetic inaction, without being on the brink of tears. And by the time the gig was over, and the masses filtered out of the location, I’d sunk right back into the familiar depression-induced numbness from back home, which had me curled up in bed for most hours of the day.

It wasn’t until silence had fallen over the night, and I heard the guy’s chatter and footsteps nearing through the open bus-door, that my nerves got the better of me. 

Uncertainty laced the air as the men walked onto the bus, one by one, and an unexpected spark of hope ignited inside me as Oli finally stepped into view, and my eyes locked with his.

… Only for him to immediately look away.

My exterior may have appeared unmoved, but the silent rejection tore into my chest like a rusty knife, with any flicker of hope dying a particularly gruesome death.

“Alice, come help me with navigation, love.”

Liams words swam in my head for a couple of seconds before I registered what he’d said over the searing pain. I straighten, forced a meek smile, and joined Liam by the driver’s seat up front.

“You alright?” Liam whispered as soon as I’d positioned myself next to him, concern painted all over his face.

Liam, like everyone else, knew that Oli had met up with Fay tonight, and the tension between the band members had been palpable all day.

With no desire to talk about it, I simply nodded, hoping that the numbness would creep back in any moment now so I could stop feeling like I was being stabbed repeatedly.

Liam eyed me with suspicion before handing me an ancient looking piece of paper with a long list of directions scribbled in several different colours of ink, highlighting how they had been crossed out and amended many, many times.

I scoffed, “What year is it? Can’t I just use GPS?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve driven bands there countless times over the years, and every time I’ve tried using GPS on those roads I get hopelessly lost. I haven’t a clue how this place gets any guests, they should be bankrupt since I’m certain no one can fucking find them— although, might be why they charge us so little to stay there off-season.” He said with a laugh as he turned the key in the ignition.

Tonight, we were staying at a campsite that the touring agency had a longstanding arrangement with; when they were shut for the season, any tour bus could park there over night for a relatively small fee — as long as they didn’t make a mess. Apparently, other bands had hosted parties there in the past without their permission, and as a result, everyone had lost access to the more fun buildings, such as the arcade, with only the basic necessities remaining unlocked.

Reluctantly, I used Liams jumbled notes to guide us there, and after a long argument of what qualified as ‘the large rock by the run-down petrol station’, we eventually arrived at what appeared to be a fairly low budget holiday location for families with young children. And while it was hard to pinpoint exactly how low budget it was during the dead of night, I could tell it was a far cry from the paradise we’d been staying at the past couple of days.

It was around midnight when we parked up next to a cluster of buildings looking out over the vast and eerily vacant field where people would otherwise be parked up with their various caravans and tent configurations. This is when the dread I’d managed to put on hold during the chaotic direction-interpretation challenge, returned with a vengeance. Suddenly, I went from distracted indifference, to not wanting to be on the same bus as Oli anymore. And while I knew it would be impossible to escape him entirely in such close quarters, I decided it was time to get out of here for now.

I made quick work of collecting everything I needed to use the shower rooms — making sure to keep my head down every time I passed Oli — and beelined for the exit.

But Liam followed me outside.

“Alice, where you off to?”

I was already halfway down a path to the closest building I suspected housed the showers, when Liams words echoed behind me. 

Clutching my things, I turned to face him as he casually walked towards me.

“Thought I’d find the showers.” I tried to sound as normal as possible, but my sombre, monotonous tone gave away more than I’d wanted.

“You’re heading towards the toilets, love. The showers are over there.” He pointed down the path to a whole different set of entrances.

It wasn’t until he was right in front of me that I saw the worry on him, “You want to talk?”

I felt my lip quiver at his question, but I shook my head, “I just want to shower.”

It was a rare occurrence to see Liam keep such a serious face for this long. He seemed to be struggling to determine whether I just needed some time, or if I was on the brink of yet another one of my signature meltdowns. But the truth is, neither was quite the case right now. 

When he did nothing but continue to stare me down, I reluctantly kept talking.

“I just need a m-moment, and to get out of there. The tension is too much.” The monotony in my tone was still present, but my answer seemed to have satisfied him enough to let me go.

But not without letting me know I could wake me at any hour tonight if I needed to talk. Which, while I really appreciated, I wasn’t about to take him up on considering tomorrow mostly consisted of him driving most of the day.

The eerie nature of the empty park followed me into the locker rooms. Every step was another echo, and the sound of the running water acted like white noise, easing me back into a comfortable numb as I scrubbed the lavender scent out of my hair, and off my body, trying my best to ignore the fresh bruises that were blooming on my leg after Oli had dragged me under him on the forest floor last night.

Each time I caught a glimpse of them while drying myself off under the harsh spotlights of the ladies locker room, something in me would stir, pulling me back to last night. It wasn’t until I noticed myself hurrying to get dressed that I realised it was annoyance that had been building in my chest; annoyance that he had made me say I was his last night; annoyance over the fact that it helped me realise how badly I actually wanted to be his and start something more official with him.

Only for him to tear it away from me less than 24 hours later.

With a frustrated groan, I sat myself on one of the many benches after I’d quickly pulled on the random assortment of clothes I’d grabbed in my rush, which consisted of a simple, navy blue, jersey skirt, and a patchwork hoodie that Shelley thought was grunge enough to bring on tour, despite it being from my old closet.

Considering how effortlessly stylish my outfit had turned out, I should have felt cute, instead, I just felt like a failure as I began untangling my hair, hating that the numbness I thought I’d mastered over the years couldn’t be summoned or maintained at will anymore. In the same beat I grew even more annoyed with Oli for having undone one of my most effective defence mechanisms.

“Ouch.” I muttered, having gotten too aggressive with the hairbrush while lost in thought, pulling me out of my spiral enough to realise that perhaps there was a chance I was getting ahead of myself, just a little bit. 

After a handful of deep breaths, I decided that maybe I should give Oli a chance to talk to me before jumping to so many conclusions.

… Regardless of how easy those conclusions were to jump to.

So, I pulled myself together, dried my hair, and headed back to the bus, doing my best to remind myself that we had just got here, and there was still time for him to approach me.

But three more hours passed. 

Which brings us to now: it was three AM, and Oli had said nothing! He hadn’t even sent a stupid text!

We’d ordered pizzas, ate, all of them had used the showers by now, and everyone was growing more and more visibly sleepy by the minute. 

Lee yawned as he began plucking a different, much slower, song on his guitar, causing Oli’s previously bouncing leg to still. I’m not sure he’d even noticed he was moving to the music, considering how wrapped up he was in whatever he was scribbling in his notebook.

I tore my eyes away from the man for the umpteenth time tonight to check my phone: still nothing.

Of course not, he won’t put the soddin’ notebook down.

Immediately, I found my gaze wandering back to him, and I stifled an audible sigh of frustration.

Every time I looked at him, I just got more enraged. I was furious at this point, livid over the fact that he was obviously ignoring me, which went directly against our deal!  And how dare he make such a big fuss over wanting me to commit to him — pushing me to envision a future with him — only to essentially ghost me while I was still right in front of him. 

The sheer audacity of this man was shocking!

I found myself glaring at him again. So much time had passed as I waited for him to grow a pair and talk to me, that his hair now appeared fully dry from the shower earlier. He was wearing a thin pair of grey marl joggers that would’ve had me salivating if I wasn’t busy seething with rage, paired with a loose tank top with more holes in it than not, which did nothing but tease the view of his tattooed abdomen to perfection.

In the corner of my eye, I noticed Mat — who had also been silent for most of the night — packing up his laptop, and I realised that he was probably about to suggest that we go to sleep.

Adrenaline shot through my veins as it hit me that I was about to crawl into that bunk, alone, with all these volatile emotions. 

The mere idea of it seemed not just torturous, but impossible.

Before I knew it, I was on my feet. And no more than a second later, I was standing over Oli.

“I need to talk to you.”

My sentence had come louder than intended, fuelled by the hours of building frustration. And as a result, everyone — including Oli — was now looking at me like I’d sprouted a couple of extra heads.

The music came to a screeching halt at my unexpected proclamation, and silence fell for what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was no more than an average pause, before Oli spoke.

“Alright.”

With my heart in my throat, I didn’t wait for Oli to get up before dashing for the exit, expecting him to follow. And as soon as the cold night air touched my face, it dawned on me that I wasn’t prepared for the impending conversation whatsoever. 

I didn’t have a clue what I was going to say, or do, or even what I wanted out of it.

So, naturally, I just kept moving.

Fast.

“Alice, wait!” I heard Oli yell behind me after the bus door clicked shut.

But I was already halfway to the nearby playground, for no reason beyond it catching my eye by being the only well-lit area around.

“Alice, come on, slow down!”

I thought I’d gained some ground, but when he spoke, I realised he was right on my heel — and from being chased through the woods yesterday, I should have known he wouldn’t have any issues keeping up with me.

So, once I reached the swing set, I spun around to face him, my chest heaving with a mixture of exertion and panic as I took in the sight of him. His breath was also laboured, the wind howling through the nearby rooftops causing his hair to dance over his stoic face which carried a similar eeriness as the environment we were in, and blowing open a hooded jacket he must have layered over his shirt in a rush before following me into the night.

As I looked at him, it quickly became apparent that I didn’t need a plan, or know what to say, as the frustration had the words flying out of my mouth by their own volition.

“The deal was: I don’t lie, and you don’t ignore me!” I spat before sweeping my own hair out of my vision.

Oli shook his head, “I haven’t ignored you.”

I could feel my expression twist into disbelief, and my blood begin to boil.

“Okay, fine, but not intentionally— listen, I’m sorry, but I really needed to think about some stuff.”

I wanted to ask him why he wouldn’t just tell me that, just send a quick text, or pull me to the side, tell me he’d talk to me later — or tomorrow even. He had a hundred chances to communicate anything to me.

And why is he being so cold and emotionless right now?

Every answer my brain provided me with was worse than the last.

Instead, I asked the question that had been driving me crazy for the past 7 hours.

“How did it go with Fay?” I felt so pathetic as I crossing my arms to brace myself for his response.

I hated how his demeanour shifted, the emotion returning to his face, a sense of pity and shame could now be found there — akin to the expression you’d wear when you were about to break someone’s heart.

“She kissed me.” He finally said.

“Oh.” I heard myself respond.

“I also… kissed her back.”

Something in me shut down, and the numbness I’d been attempting to summon for hours, now came to me effortlessly.

“I-I should go b-back inside.” I stuttered, before side-stepping him.

But he moved in front of me.

“It was a mistake. The whole meeting actually, not just the kiss.” There was so much sadness swimming in his eyes that it seeped into his voice, “Please don’t go.”

Confusion pushed through the numbness, my mind racing with possibilities for why he’d ignored me all night if it wasn’t for having rekindled his relationship with Fay — especially if they’d kissed. The longer I thought about it, the clearer it became that the danger I assumed I had all figure out, was actually a complete unknown.

Which, turns out, was much scarier.

Knowing I needed answers, I turned and took a seat on the swings.

Oli sat down in the swing next me, causing the chains of the swing-set to creak.

My eyes instinctually fell to his lips, and I had to look away, not ready for the pang of jealousy that came with the knowledge that I hadn’t been the last person to taste them. Instead, I forced my eyes to stay on the tour-bus in the distance as he spoke.

“Seeing Fay was… an eye opener. And it made me realise exactly how selfish I’ve been with you.”

My brows furrowed, my confusion growing further since I was under the impression we’d both been quite selfish at times. Especially considering I had essentially used him for sex in the beginning, even when I knew he had feelings for me.

Wanting him to elaborate, I simply asked, “In what way?”

He sighed audibly, “A drunken night, I grabbed an employee, bent her over a table, choked, and fucked her.” Surprised at what was leaving his mouth, I couldn’t help but look at him. His posture was that of a tired man, his head hanging low, and his next sentence came bitter, “There is a long list of things wrong with that scenario, love.”

“You asked me if I w-wanted it.”

Lifting his head to meet my eyes, he threw me a sombre smile, “I did… while I was already holding you. And personally, I don’t even think that’s the worst of it. I’ve played all sorts of daft mind games, all the jealous nonsense I pulled— and let’s not forget how I tried to prove something by suggesting you date Mat… It’s all so fucking messed up, Alice.”

I scanned his face, trying to figure out where he was going with this, “What are you saying?”

“They say that you always hurt the ones you love — I told myself that a lot when I was with Fay, to justify how she treated me half the time. But I was different before I met her; less jealous, less angry. Mostly just naive. I was far from the perfect partner, but I wasn’t cruel. And I sure as shit didn’t sexually assault people.”

That was the last straw. By now, he had referred to the night which I considered the highlight of my sex-life up to that point — and bordering spiritual awakening — as both self-harm, and sexual assault, all while treating me like some brainless child who’s incapable of making decisions for herself. And not only did I have no desire to be lectured about how I should feel about my experience, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear about how badly he regrets it — regrets me.

I grabbed the chain of my swing and swivelled in my seat to face him, “We’ve already had this discussion, and I’ve already made it very clear that I’m a grown woman, who is perfectly capable of deciding for herself what she wants.”

He followed suit, angling himself towards me, looking dark and serious as his ink-clad knuckles tensed over the chain, “And I’m a grown man; I should be making better decisions than this.”

For a moment we both stubbornly stared each other down while the wind continued its ebb and flow around us.

“So, you regret having sex with me?” I finally asked.

“I just wish I could start over — clean slate, treat you the way you deserve.”

I shook my head, “I don’t want a clean slate, Oli. I happened to like what we’ve done — also, you’re a hypocrite.”

He scoffed, “How so?”

“You’re telling me that I was unable to give you my consent our first night, considering the circumstances. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“Because I work for you?”

“That’s part of it, yes.”

I shot out of my seat as quickly as I had on the bus and fished the phone out my pocket while walking away, looking through my contacts.

I heard the swing-set chains rattle behind me, and suddenly the tall man was in the corner of my eye, following me, “What are you doing?”

“I’m quitting.”

He stepped in front of me as I pressed call on Liam and put the phone to my ear.

“Alice, no.”

A command — one I had no intention of obeying.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I hissed as the phone rang.

Oli’s stern voice was a distant memory, now replaced by a pleading softness, “Alice, think about this.”

“You need me to come out there?” Was the first thing Liam said.

“No, but I want to quit.”

Silence fell as I stared into Oli’s stormy eyes, waiting for Liam to reply to my request.

“And you remember the amendments to your contract; in case you needed to leave for mental health reasons?”

“Yes.”

“The effect would be immediate.”

There had always been a sense of urgency to mine and Oli’s relationship, an uncomfortable rush to figure things out at the speed of light. Partly due to the inevitability of the tour ending, but also because we were both so desperate to explore each other, while being simultaneously terrified of each other due to our individual wounds. 

But regardless of the reason for our whirlwind of encounters, I had just made the unspoken rush between us a whole lot more real.

“I know.” I had to look away from Oli as I spoke — knowing he could probably hear what Liam was saying from his changing expressions.

There was some rustling on the other side of the line, as if Liam was trying to find something, “We can’t make it official until tomorrow, but I can book you a taxi, and a hotel, if you need to get out of here for tonight.”

“No worries, I’ll get it sorted.” Was all I said before I hung up, making a mental note to apologise to Liam as soon as possible — both for quitting and leaving him with more responsibilities for the remainder of the tour, as well as for being so short with him on the phone just then.

But right now, there were more pressing matters to tend to.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Oli said, disappointment dripping from his words.

Which lit a match under me.

“Yes, I did! You don’t get to use my ‘capabilities of providing you with explicit consent’ as a thinly veiled excuse to belittle my choices, and imply you know what’s best for me, just so you can what, be offended on my behalf? If seeing Fay made you realise you don’t want to be with me, just say that! Yes, it could have gone pear-shaped that night, but it didn’t! So you don’t get to paint our time together as something wrong, or shameful, to make things easier for you— you don’t get to turn me into a mistake so you can feel like the hero for walking away!”

As I ranted, raindrops had started mingling with the wind, and I watched them land on the man that looked as defeated as he sounded, “You’re missing the point.”

“Please, provide me with a better point then, because I’m failing to see one.”

Oli gingerly took a step closer, allowing him to speak softer over the increasingly temperamental weather, “It’s not specifically about that night, it’s not even about you, Alice. What Fay made me see is that the reason I act like such a prick half the time doesn’t have as much to do with trusting others as I’d originally thought. It’s more about not trusting myself, and all I do is prove over and over again that I can’t be trusted.”

Having been so wrapped up in defending myself, I had failed to see what was happening right in front of me. As if someone had flicked a switch, the self-hatred emitting from Oli was suddenly so obvious, so thick in the air, that it coated the back of my throat like bile. 

“I’ve been showering you in all sorts of tests, love. Yet, I fail every one of them myself. So yeah, I guess you’re right, I am a hypocrite.”

“That’s not what I meant when I said that— also, isn’t it up to me to decide if you’ve failed any tests?”

“No.”

A simple no — short and unwavering. A one-word sentence to shut me down, with no intention to elaborate any further.

And just like that, it became all too clear that my worst nightmare was unfolding right before me: I was about to lose the one thing I’d deemed worth having.

The rain falling from the sky was multiplying by the minute, painting his jacket with increasingly larger dark patches, and causing his curls to lose volume at the same rate the fight was fading from my chest.

“Are you giving up?” I heard myself ask distantly, referring to our most recent deal, where he’d promised to not stop trying unless I did.

Oli shuffled uncomfortably, “It’s not that simple.”

But it looked pretty simple to me.

“Wait,” He said as soon as I began moving, a sense of panic washing over his features at the idea of me leaving, which shifted something inside me as well, “I don’t want to give up. I just… I don’t know, I was stupid enough to think that I could find some magical solution by meeting Fay and face my demons, and instead I just uncovered more problems I haven’t a clue how to fix.”

The panic melted away from him, being replaced with a frown, “What does it mean that you’re no longer working for me tomorrow?”

Just a moment ago I thought it meant that we were parting ways, but now… 

My mouth opened and closed, as I worked hard to wrap my head around the situation, and the words to go along with it.

“I don’t know.”

His eyes were pinning me as the rain had now started in earnest, surrounding us in a cacophony of sound as it hit all the nearby corrugated rooftops.

“Will you be going back home to England?”

It was my turn to squirm. 

I didn’t want to go back to England, I had wanted to tell him I was ready to be his, that I wanted to give things a shot, just a couple of hours ago. But the idea of making myself that vulnerable when he was this doubtful about our future proved too terrifying.

“Bloody hell,” Oli muttered when I didn’t answer, raking his hands through his hair, “Alright— how do you feel about staying up with me for what little remains of the night? I don’t want tomorrow to come just yet.”

I didn’t know what he was implying, whether we’d spend the coming hours arguing until we’d come to some type of agreement on what happens next, or if we were just indulging in more stolen moments before going our separate ways.

But it didn’t matter, I knew I couldn’t leave now.

I nodded, shakily, “Y-yeah.”

He studied my face as the wind picked up further, then gave me a nod as well.

“Come with me,” he said before leading us towards another cluster of buildings, where the unknown awaited me.

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[ampgirladmirer]

That's how I became a disabled one.

This is an old story I found and tried to translate.

It all started in my early youth. I broke my shins on both legs, spent almost three months in bed and three in a wheelchair, then almost as many months on crutches. And I liked it. Then two more times I managed to "organize" two or three months with crutches. I thought, "What if I didn't have a leg…"

Then I got married, had two children… I kind of forgot about it. But my legs started to get tired and sore. The doctors found something, among the prescriptions and options for the future flashed that "if…, you just might end up legless!". This suddenly made a big, even amazing impression on me.

A year later, I just wanted to "end up" like that! We discussed it all with my husband, it was like a mind game, a flight of fancy. A leg, both legs, an arm, hands, legs and one arm, all limbs at all...

Just a week later, in the evening, when the children were already put to bed, my husband suddenly said that it seems that there is an opportunity to do my surgery now and "almost at will". In the development of the thought I said "Let's not be trifling, let's just amputate all at once - arms and legs!"

It turned out that everything is quite serious. And real!

My husband had a contact in medical circles, who made up my oncology with the need for a corresponding operation. Of course it was scary. But to regret all my life that we did not take the chance - no way. I gave up and decided. A couple more weeks we thought about what kind of surgery to do. The first possible option me and my husband were thinking of, "all four limbs at all", was inconvenient, it's hard to be totally limbless in everyday life. I really wanted to have very small leg stumps, and at least one empty sleeve…

At work, the message that in a week I go the hospital with oncology for amputation of the leg made a shocking impression. The main motive was "how will you live as a cripple?" They didn't know what kind of surgery I was going to have!

To be honest, I still have a vague idea of how my "disease" was organized. I remember in the hospital being very afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and being compromised. It was good that they kept me for only four days before the operation….

The first half an hour after I came to my senses after the operation is etched in my memory.

I was lying alone in the room, covered up to my neck with a blanket. My right hand was on the edge of the bed with a drip stuck in it. I tried moving my left arm. No effect. Tried to lift my head to look at myself. I could see that on the left side the blanket was lying somehow flat and the "bump" from my feet was not visible in the bed. I didn't have the strength for more.

The nurse came in and, seeing that I was awake, asked me how I was feeling. I asked to go to the toilet and was told affectionately that I had a diaper on. And I finally gave out the question that had been tormenting me: "My right arm - do I have only one arm now?" The nurse blinked and for some reason whispered, "Yes." I asked, "And the legs?" The nurse nodded frantically and scurried away. And I finally realized that THIS had happened. I lay in the bed with only a diaper on, legless and one-armed.

A day later, I saw my stumps. My legs were amputated high above the knees, my left arm - completely. That's how I became a disabled woman.

===========

For a very long time I learned how to sit up, crawl. Then how to handle a wheelchair. I could never learn to get into a wheelchair on my own, it's quite hard being left legless and only with one hand. I won't lie that I didn't regret what I did. I did, especially at first. I regretted it very acutely when, about a year after the surgery, my seven-years-old daughter came up to my wheelchair, stroked the empty sleeve of my housecoat, and asked, "Mom, did they cut off your arm for good?"

But eventually I adjusted to the situation, got used to a wheelchair, learned, and began to live normally. My husband helped me a lot. And that I lost an arm and legs by my own will - so who cares about that? I have a beautiful family. There are lots of things I can't do anymore, of course. So what of it? I have the most important things for a woman - a husband and children. I'm helpless in the house, but not completely. In bed, I'm not helpless. And the comparison of what was before the operation and the current state is in favor of the latter. I have long since concluded that amputated legs is a very positive moment for sex. If the stumps were shorter, it would be even better. Probably not without reason, I dreamed of having my legs operated on as high as possible.

I think that everything worked out very well.

At home, I'm almost always in a wheelchair. And for some reason, I never got used to my disability being visible.

That's how I turned out to be - a voluntary disabled woman.

And in the summer I even tried to feel as if it was "all four...". The kids were at grandma's, my husband was on vacation. And I had my only arm tightly bandaged to my body, so that it was immobile. And I lay a week like that. I immediately felt crippled and helpless. My husband nursed me like a baby. It's nice to be the center around which everything else revolves. But when he took the bandage off and I got my arm back! Back to being a regular disabled woman in a wheelchair, legless an one-armed, with a husband I love and two kids.

Trying to repeat my life trick is strongly discouraged. Too much depends on other people. First of all, on your man who is there for you in life.