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andypantsx3 · 11 months ago

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READY OR KNOT | 1 | TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... TAGS/WARNINGS: pro hero au, fem + afab reader, omegaverse, alpha shouto, beta reader, misunderstandings, courting behavior, slightly case fic-y, undertones of sexual violence (not between main pairing), aged-up characters, eventual smut, 18+ minors please dni! LENGTH: 4.6k, 1st of 7 chapters

Tetsutetsu’s apartment was exploding with people by the time you made it in from the cold.

Even from outside, you could hear the chatter of dozens of voices, the thumping bass of a distant party playlist. The front door was practically wedged shut by all the bodies blocking it, and you had to suck in a breath as you squeezed yourself through, slithering through what seemed to be every single employee of the Pink Riot agency—a plethora of bulky pro heroes stuffed in among lanky support techs and sleepy-eyed case analysts.

Inside, it stank of warm beer with a slightly sweeter, sharper liquor undertone. Your nose wrinkled. You could only imagine what the scent was like to your alpha and omega coworkers, grateful you had a beta’s dulled sense of smell, and no innate reaction to the physical proximity of other secondary genders. The space was already almost overwhelming as it was, the press of people nearly claustrophobic, although no one else looked like they minded much.

You shoved yourself through the crowd, squeezing through people, somewhat regretting how late you’d gotten here. You hoped there was still something good to drink.

In your defense, you’d gotten bogged down with a bombshell of a new case at the agency, something Mina had pulled you aside to talk about on your way out to the party. She’d meant for you to pick it up Monday, as you couldn’t take any action until a supervising hero had been assigned to you. But it was so unlike any other case you’d been handed in your years at Pink Riot that you’d immediately yanked your coat back off and holed yourself up at your desk, poring over the information in shock.

The case file told you that there was a rogue pro hero harassing and assaulting the omegas in Bunkyo ward—the very ward the Pink Riot agency operated in.

What was more, local authorities suspected someone from the agencies within Bunkyo itself, considering the attacks were exclusively confined to the ward and had so far never deviated. The police had been alerted to the fact that a hero might be involved when one of the omegas who had been attacked last night had escaped, shaken but untouched, and reported their aggressor attempting to strap quirk suppressors on them—tech that was almost exclusively a tool of the heroics trade.

And so all Bunkyo-based agencies had been asked to internally investigate their heroes, with mandatory out-of-agency supervising heroes to be assigned to the cases as well, to ensure everything was above board and no cover ups were being staged. And you, as Mina’s personal friend and therefore the case analyst she trusted most with a sensitive file like this, had been assigned the task.

And it was already almost too mind-boggling for you to bear.

You plowed your way towards the kitchen, eager to chase away the idea of any of your hero coworkers as the perpetrator. You liked and trusted all of the heroes Pink Riot had on call, and hoped so desperately that another agency was at fault here. You couldn’t imagine a single one of them being responsible for something like this. You couldn’t imagine the harasser themself attending this very party.

Once in the kitchen, you discovered that Tetsutetsu had invited more than just the Pink Riot agency itself—he had also apparently invited a plethora of heroes from his former UA days. Sero Hanta and Uraraka Ochako were propped up in the kitchen with Mina and Kirishima, smiling and chatting, while Iida Tenya stood next to them, looking, as usual, like he was on the verge of a hernia. Monoma Neita was skulking in a corner, along with a couple of lower-level heroes you recognized as Tetsu’s Class B friends.

Mina perked up immediately when she caught sight of you, hopping off the counter at Kirishima’s side, beckoning you closer with a hot pink nail.

“You have to taste this disgusting thing Tetsu made,” she told you gleefully, gesturing at something vaguely gelatinous on the stove. You recoiled reflexively, even as Mina ladled a generous portion into a plastic cup for you, passing it over.

You did not like the weight of it in your hand—and the smell of it, even to your duller senses, was not exactly appetizing, more nail polish remover in profile than anything.

“Wow, this looks almost as lovely as the new case file. How generous of you,” you intoned, taking a small, investigative sip. The taste zipped down your spine all the way to your toes, so alcoholic you could almost taste an emergency room visit.

But it figured. Pro heroes in general were a hard bunch to get drunk, their metabolisms fast and their bodies honed to withstand limits a normal person could never. You imagined this was Tetsu’s own invention based on years of personal research.

Mina sloshed her own cup at you, bright-eyed as she normally was, but otherwise looking unruffled. “Tetsu and Eiji already have a bet going which of them can put back more of this, but my bet is on me,” she grinned. “They’re behind a cup already.”

You winced. “Such responsible agency heads I have.”

Mina practically cackled. “You love it.”

You couldn’t help the fond smile that pulled at your mouth, listening to her bright laughter. “I do.”

And it was true, after years at the Pink Riot agency you were spoiled for anywhere else.

Your caseload was broad and interesting, Mina and Kirishima the perfect amount of invested but trusting, always caring about the results you brought in for the safety they brought Bunkyo ward, but never micromanaging you or demanding the impossible. The agency was a little bit smaller than other agencies founded by members of their former class—a mid-sized, fairly-closely knit operation that prioritized action and minimized bureaucracy.

And it was a sort of family operation. Mina was an omega, small and bright and totally beautiful the way so many omegas were, the warmness of her personality like a magnet. And Kirishima was her bonded alpha—fairly friendly and easy-going for one, you thought—but strong, firm in his resolve, and deeply committed.

You liked them, liked their relationship, and liked how their traits translated to their management of their joint agency. You liked how the agency had basically sprung up around them, filled to the brim with good people. And so yeah, Mina was right. You did love it.

“Make sure you unwind,” Mina ordered you, flashing a pink nail in your face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that it’s been like two hours since I saw you disappear with that case file.”

Your cheeks heated. “Did you know some agency heads like it when their employees do their jobs?”

Mina grinned wickedly, then made a sort of clucking noise. “Did you know that some agency heads are no funsies? I like when my employees do their jobs and still have time for a social life.”

A smile tugged at your mouth. Your social calendar had never been so full as when you started working at Pink Riot, their rosters absolutely packed with outgoing heroes. Someone or other was always throwing a party, organizing a celebratory dinner when an especially big case was closed, or dashing across the floor yelling “drinks on me!” after nailing a particularly notorious villain.

Between the agency and your own friends you thought you were kept rather busy. But the sudden, shifting look of undue interest on Mina’s face told you she thought otherwise.

“When was the last time you went on a date, hmm?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. “I never catch you smelling like anyone. Looking for anyone here?”

“And who told you you could smell me?” you demanded.

Mina cackled. “It’s not like I can turn my nose off. Plus you smell nice and comforting. Very beta. I wouldn’t stop smelling you even if I could.”

Your ears went hot. Alphas and omegas were always so nosy and inquisitive, a byproduct of being able to smell way too much for your comfort, a fact you and your circle of beta friends never missed a chance to bemoan.

And this was not the first time you’d been told as much, most betas apparently smelling some level of chill and less intrusive than the insistent scents of alphas and omegas. You didn’t exactly understand how something could smell chill, but enough people had said it that you accepted it.

“Well then it’s good I’m not polluting that with other smells,” you said. “Now mind your business.”

Mina’s grin was sharp as she reached over to ladle more of Tetsu’s concoction into your cup, a small revenge. “Fine but keep your options open tonight! I know plenty of nice beta boys I can set you up with—there’s a couple of analysts from Ingenium’s crowd here tonight.”

You nodded, affecting sincerity, although you had absolutely no plan to follow through. You were going to find your agency friends, go ham on some apps, and then head back home just as soon as Mina and Kirishima ended the night the way they usually did—locked mouth to mouth after drinking a little too much, causing a scene.

You waved Mina away, poking your head back out the kitchen door and surveying the rest of the party. Over near the couch, you caught a flash of a couple of your fellow case analysts in conversation with Asui Tsuyu, a beta hero at your agency who you got on well with. Your people exactly.

However, no sooner had you started to push back into the crowd than something slammed into your shoulder, sending you stumbling back into the wall. Your drink splashed right up over your shoulder, cold and biting. You let out a strangled noise, turning your head on impulse and catching a mouthful of hair.

“Oh my god, I am sooo sorry,” a soft voice said. You realized you’d collided with an omega analyst from another Bunkyo agency—a girl you vaguely remembered from a joint case a few years ago. She was small, petite, and delicately pretty in the way of most omegas. And she had also managed to empty nearly the entirety of your cup onto you.

“Shit, shit—I got your shirt wet!” she said, yanking herself back from you. She looked a little glassy-eyed, but genuinely apologetic, and she wiped at your shoulder with her bare hand. Definitely a bit drunk.

“No—it’s fine,” you told her, attempting to duck her hand. “I also didn’t see you!”

The omega girl didn’t look reassured however. She frowned, pausing over you—then suddenly slithered right out of her cardigan, throwing it over your shoulders.

“We’ll hide it like that. Please take it,” she said, her delicate fingers flitting back and forth over your now-covered shoulder, like she still itched to fix something. The cardigan was soft and warm, and even you could tell it smelled good—a soft, powdery, classically omegan scent.

“It’s really fine—” you insisted, immediately shrugging the cardigan back off, though you appreciated the gesture. You glanced down at your shoulder, surveying the damp patch that was slowly soaking closer to your boob. “It’s clear—it will dry in a couple of minutes and no one will be any the wiser. It already stinks like alcohol in here anyway.”

The omega girl hesitated as you handed her sweater back to her. She leaned in to sniff you tentatively. “Are you sure? I really am so sorry. Your mate is going to be so mad, now you can’t really smell you over the vodka unless you get in close—”

You held up a hand, sending her a reassuring smile. “I don’t have a mate, so there’s no problem. I promise.”

You did not add that as a beta, your pool of potential mates was limited to other betas, and that no beta’s sense of smell was enough to get worked up over this. Alphas and omegas tended to forget that not everyone was as sensitive as they were.

She bit her lip, the gesture pretty, but looked somewhat mollified. “You’re sure?” she ventured one last time.

You nodded. “Totally sure. I appreciate the gesture though.”

She nodded, still looking hesitant, and you decided there was only one way to put an end to this.

“Nice to see you, though. Maybe I will catch you around later!” you said, waving her off firmly. You quickly abandoned your now empty cup on a nearby table and turned to head back into the living room. You spotted Tsuyu’s head of dark green hair through the crowd of shoulders, a homing beacon in the dim.

As you charted an unsteady path through the crush of people, you noted several more heroes and analysts from other agencies, including Kaminari Denki and a beaming Midoriya Izuku, crammed into a corner and chatting animatedly to—oh.

Your cheeks flushed. Pro hero Shouto was here.

The other hero stood tall and solemnly handsome across from Midoriya, just as maddeningly gorgeous as always. You, like every other person with working eyeballs, had long nursed a tiny bit of a celebrity crush on him, as he was literally the most beautiful person on earth—a fact evidenced by his now six-year running sweep of Tokyo Beat magazine’s cutest hero award.

In your time at Pink Riot, you’d worked a couple of joint cases with Shouto’s agency and met him a few times in passing. You’d always found him to be a little bit intense, but kind, thoughtful, straightforward, and diligent. He was every bit the reassuring hero the media made him out to be, and even more striking in person. He also always wore scent patches flush at the sides of his neck, concealing what his secondary gender was from prying noses, although you’d always sort of suspected he had to be an omega.

He was tall and solid and strong in the way of most pro heroes. But his features were so finely-wrought, so strangely graceful and elegant for a man, that you would have put significant amounts of money down on his omega status.

Not that it mattered. Betas really only dated betas, and alphas really only omegas, so Shouto’s status wasn’t much to you, regardless of what it was.

You slipped past, averting your eyes, wondering absently if an omega like Todoroki Shouto ever encountered harassment like the victims in your newest case file. Maybe his scent blockers were for this very purpose—hiding his omega status so he didn’t run the risk. You imagined with a face like his, he would be sure to garner migraine-inducing levels of undue interest.

This thought was suddenly arrested, however, when a hand pressed to your chest, shoving you back into the wall you were sidling past.

Your breath wooshed out of your lungs as a strangled “fwuuh” noise escaped you. Your gaze jerked up to find an alpha you somewhat recognized was holding you against the wall, grinning in an incredibly unsettling way.

Fuzzily, you matched his face to one of the techs from the support department, someone you occasionally saw at work functions but never worked directly with. Support interfaced mainly with the heroes, mending their tech, inventing new items, and—if Mina’s complaints were to be believed—running up quite the bill for the agency with their experimentation.

“Can I—help you?” you garbled out, staring the alpha down.

He leaned in, leery, slurring, “What’sa pretty li’l thing like you doin’ here, huh?”

He smelled strongly of Tetsutestu’s horrid concoction, like the alcohol was literally seeping from his pores. You frowned, shifting uncomfortably under his hand. It was large, and too-warm against your shoulder, and the desire to turn and bite it welled up in your mouth.

“Can you get off me?” you asked, grabbing the alpha by the wrist. A support tech though he was, his hold on you was firm, and your grip didn’t dislodge him. He clung to your sweater, his gaze glassy but intense.

He closed his eyes, nose twitching like he was-–ew—like he was scenting you. “Aww come on baby. A li’l omega like you? There’s no need to pr’tend you don’t want this.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion bubbling up inside you. A little omega like you? What the fuck was he talking about? Was he that blasted?

“You have three seconds before I bite you,” you said, certain that would be clear enough, even if he was too drunk to tell you were a beta.

But his hand didn’t move. Instead he laughed, hot and humid and smelling strongly of liquor, and he fumbled with something at his belt.

A hot wave of fear suddenly washed over you, a stab of panic lancing your heart. He wasn’t going to expose himself right here, was he? You pushed back against the wall, feeling entrapped, yanking at his wrist harder to get him off of you.

“I’m not an omega,” you said loudly. “And I’m not interested, now get—”

The alpha’s hand was gone. You blinked, suddenly finding his face missing too, your vision gone entirely gray and strangely…knitted?

“Do not touch her,” a deep voice intoned, and you realized you were staring at a broad back, clad in a handsome gray sweater. You tipped your head back, your gaze fixing on a suspiciously familiar mop of scarlet and white hair.

Shouto. Pro hero Shouto had put himself in between you and the asshole alpha.

A thrill raced down your spine.

“The fuck I won’t,” a snort issued over one of Shouto’s strong shoulders.

There was a small, silent moment where you watched Shouto’s head tilt just the tiniest bit. He didn’t say anything in return—but a sudden, creeping unease slithered over your senses, raising the hair on the back of your neck. An audible hush fell over the people nearest you, though you couldn’t see what exactly was happening, caged between Shouto’s back and the wall.

You could just make out Shouto’s scent patches, perfectly even against his neck like always, and wondered whether they would help—-if the alpha couldn’t smell Shouto was an omega, maybe he thought he would respect his boundaries more?

“Dude—” someone hissed, from somewhere near the alpha, just as Shouto spoke once more.

“You will leave,” he intoned in that deep tone again. His voice was soft, placid—but the feeling of unease grew within you, a strange itch under your skin. You had the sudden urge to flee, but one of Shouto’s hands closed over your wrist, as a cerulean eye caught yours over his shoulder. “You…please stay.”

You could do nothing but nod, your feet practically freezing in place, the desire to obey subsuming your entire brain. What the hell was happening?

As Shouto turned back to face the alpha again, that hunted feeling grew stronger, like there was something in the apartment that you should be very, very wary of. Your throat started to close up, and your breath came a little short.

The room was so suddenly silent that you could hear the nervous shift of the people beyond Shouto, and you caught the sound of the alpha suddenly stumbling back.

“You’re—are you fucking Ordering me?” The alpha asked, but you could hear that he was still backing away.

The question crawled right under your skin along with the unsettled feeling.

An Order. As in, an Alpha Order. From Shouto? Pretty, kind, patient, careful Shouto? Classic omega material Shouto?

Was…using an Order on an alpha, and it was working?

Your head spun with the mismatch between Shouto’s face and the latent command in his tone. It was almost too strange to be contemplated, and yet here it was playing out in front of you.

Shouto, for his part, didn’t bother answering the question. “I believe I asked you to leave,” he said firmly. His voice carried an inflection that sliced through the air like a knife.

“Sorry, Todoroki, he’s super fucking drunk—I’ll get him out of here,” another voice said, one you recognized as a different support tech.

It sounded like he didn’t need to expend the effort, however, as the alpha’s footsteps were already beating a hasty retreat. The other support tech’s footsteps followed, his pace clipped on the hardwood.

As soon as they were out of view, the suffocating feeling all but evaporated. You could almost feel the sigh of relief around the room, and the line of Shouto’s shoulders untensed.

He turned to you slowly, drawing in a deep breath. His normally blank expression had been exchanged for something troubled, his perfect eyebrows knitted in concern, his full mouth pursed up like he’d just let it drop from a snarl.

He blinked down at you for a second, those distinct heterochromatic eyes flicking over you, before you found yourself suddenly crowded back into the corner, your back bumping the wall. Shouto leaned down and gave a delicate sniff at your temple, as if checking your condition.

“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was still strange, rough with something you couldn’t name.

He was warm where he lingered over you, his shoulders broad enough that they blocked the light and cast falling shadows into the meager space between you. He was near enough that the dip of his sweater collar rasped over your shoulder, sending a swarm of tingles over your skin. You drew in a careful breath, trying to figure out just what the right answer was, coming up with nothing.

Shouto frowned over your lack of a response. His nose pressed right into your hair, and he crowded even closer, like he was trying to find the source of your discomfort—even though he’d just chased that source right through the front door.

“Your scent is difficult to find,” he murmured, his chest expanding and contracting. “It is covered by many things…” He trailed off as he seemed to find it—and then something strange happened—even stranger than the scene with the support tech alpha.

Shouto froze in place, going so unearthly still he might have been transmuted into marble. You heard his breath catch and hold in his lungs, and his fingers came up to grasp your sleeve, clutching you tightly.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong when a shudder swept down him, from head to toe. His grip on your wrist tightened for a moment, and a groan bubbled up from somewhere low in his throat.

“Your scent—” he rasped, then cut himself off.

He huffed out a harsh breath instead, stirring your hair, before his face dropped into the cradle of your shoulder. He breathed in, slow, measured, his mouth just barely touching the skin of your throat. You could feel his long, pretty eyelashes flutter against your skin, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine.

Something under your skin shifted in response, then.

To your utter shock, you could feel yourself tilting your head to the side, baring your neck. A strange feeling of malleability settled over you, like your bones had jellified and your muscles had atrophied.

“Shouto—?” you garbled out, unable to articulate any question beyond what the fuck was happening? You knew it had something to do with the way Shouto was most definitely not an omega after all. The thought made your brain fuzz with static.

Pretty, gentle, elegant Todoroki Shouto was an alpha. Kind, placid, beautiful Todoroki Shouto was even some kind of…distressingly strong alpha.

It crossed all the wires in your brain to think of that face possessing that kind of strength. But there was clearly something there. And you were being so weird and embarrassing about it, but you couldn’t have moved, even if you wanted to.

It felt like a short eternity, the time Shouto stood over you like that, his face pressed into your throat, your own throat bared to him. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest, simultaneously hammering a zillion miles a minute, and yet feeling slow, syrupy.

Distantly, you registered the hum of voices in the background, Tetsutetsu trying to rekindle the happy atmosphere. But Shouto was so warm over you, breathing slow and shallow, a tall, strong anchor weighing you against the wall.

It could have been minutes or hours before he finally stepped away. He looked calmer, but a little dazed. You felt the same way, mystified by what had just occurred between you.

His gaze picked over you in some kind of assessment. “You’re well?” he asked carefully. His voice was pitched low.

“Yeah,” you managed, your throat weirdly dry. “Yeah. I—thank you, Shouto.”

Shouto inclined his head in a nod. “You, as well. I don’t usually…I try not to rise to anger. But when alphas try to use their power to—” he cut himself off. His throat bobbed with some emotion you couldn’t name.

“Your scent is….calming to me.”

You nodded. The beta chill thing again, like Mina had said.

“Your friendly neighborhood beta, at your service,” you saluted him, trying to ignore the strange, lingering shiver in your limbs.

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Shouto’s mouth, but his gaze remained fixed on you, almost inhumanly intense.

“That is not quite what I mean,” he said, but did not elaborate. There was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you that you didn’t understand, but you didn’t know him well enough to try to dig into it.

Instead you just gave him another smile, your face heating as you noticed several people around you were still watching you.

You figured it was probably time to make an escape after that little scene you had just caused, for Shouto’s reputation as well as yours. You didn’t need people thinking Shouto had been scenting you for any reason other than your apparent beta chill pill scent, especially now that people at the party would know he was an alpha.

God, he was an alpha, even with a face like that.

You waved at him, garbling out another, “Well, thanks for the save! I, um, have to be going, but I’ll see you around!” before throwing yourself back through the crowd, your head spinning.

Mina had come out of the kitchen and tried to flag you down as you passed. You waved back at her like you’d misunderstood, quickly fighting your way back to Tetsu’s front door. You felt the weight of dozens of eyes on your back, and the prick of two heterochromatic ones, somehow more certain and weightier than the others. But you didn’t turn around, eager to get out of the crowd, still reeling from what had happened.

You didn’t know how you had been mistaken for an omega by that drunk alpha, and understood even less what had possessed Shouto to sniff you all over like that, embarrassed by how much you had liked it. It most probably had something to do with how inherently non-aggressive beta scents were supposed to be, maybe helping Shouto down from how keyed up he’d been about that other alpha.

But it had still been so embarrassing and strange, the way your head had tipped right back for him, the way your limbs had gone to jelly in his hold. You hoped he’d had a little to drink too or he’d probably realize how weird you were, reacting like that.

Finally, you spilled out of Tetsu’s and into the night, the evening air cool on your heated skin. The phantom touch of Shouto’s mouth still lingered on your throat, warm and disconcerting.

You beelined for home, your head swimming. You wondered just how long it would take you to forget how very strange this evening had been.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #character: todoroki shouto #andie's writing #tw: a/b/o

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Winter's King 26

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Monday's are for pain.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"More wine," Queen Jazlene demands.

You stand at her shoulder, awaiting her every command. The familiarity of your duty feels safe though you cannot deny the peril all around. You move forward cautiously, sending a glance to king.

King Geralt has not said or done much. He's hardly even touched his plate. For the first time that night, to your surprise as much as your relief, he looks at you. You pause, hand hovering before the ewer.

"Another cup won't fare you well on the morrow," he girds.

Jazlene huffs, "what else am I to do in this dull place but drink?"

His lashes lower and he sits back. He props his elbow on the straight arm of the chair and gazes out at the boards full of bawdy voices and steps. He tilts his head as his pale sight skewers the chamber.

"It is a banquet," he utters flatly. You remain close to Jazlene but retract your hand.

"It is, husband, what do you propose?" She's breathy, almost hopeful. She peers out across the plucking of strings, "a dance?"

"I know some steps," he extends his fingers, "suppose... there won't be much dancing on the road and Lord Vesemir did go to all this effort."

"Truly? A dance?" She squals and grabs his forearm, "husband, is this not some cruel jape?"

His jaw squares and he looks at her without humour, "only a suggestion. We are... married. The people should like to see king and queen together."

You step back, as surprised as the daughter of Debray. The king himself hardly seems eager but he is ever aloof. You wonder if it is genuine. His refusal to look at you has you uncertain. Does he regret his missteps or are you once assuming too kindly of him? He has taught you those last few days to be skeptical. You are less than grateful for the lesson.

"I would very much love to dance," Jazlene seizes his large hand and he winces, "thank you, thank you, thank you." She chants in excitement as she rises and the king steels himself as he does the same. You're not so sure her glee is specific to her partner, but rather the act.

You can’t help but pity the queen. It’s clear she’s desperate for excitement. It would explain her flirtations and her tantrums and all her behaviour. Still, the isn’t the little girl flitting around her father’s castle anymore; she is the queen and her misdeeds will have consequences should she carry on.

Your eyes drift out as a lull ripples over the chamber followed quickly by a tide of murmurs. The king and queen emerge from behind the royal table as curiosity thrums all around. The troupe continues to strum as Jazlene can hardly contain her elation despite the king’s stoic propriety. They begin the steps; hers jouncy, his flat and formal. She hardly notices her partner’s nonchalance.

The other partners give breadth to the royal couple as others pause to watch. Whispers and cheers, some whistles encourage the king and queen. It is the first that any have seen the royal couple as one.

You watch but hardly take in the scene. Your mind wanders to the chamber in the tower, then to the queen’s rooms; you hear only Geralt’s gritting frustration and the queen’s shrill defiance. They play their parts but you are not convinced.

You peer around and your eyes catch on a shock of rusty orange. Gilles stands by the doors, amid as cluster of other guards. Where his fellow soldiers drink ale and grumble, he stares at the royal pair, bound by the sight of the queen on the king’s arm.

You follow his gaze and meet King Geralt’s golden irises. His brow twitches and he quickly draws his attention back to his queen. You are confounded by him. You cannot figure if he truly has reconsidered his intent or he is merely hiding. He’s shown you before that he can feign whatever role suits his means; gallant king, pensive man, troubled soul. In the end, his only concern is his own will.

Your chest rents deeper amidst your doom-laden thoughts. When did you grow so cynical? It’s these Hinterlands; their chill invades even the soul. Your lips tug down and you put your eyes to the stone wall. You need only see the night through. The road will keep all too busy for recklessness.

As you stand there, you sense a shift, and turn to look over your shoulder. Lord Vesemir waves in your direction, bidding you to him with a pointed finger. You squint and peer back at the queen and king. You cannot disobey the host even if you are bound to a higher title.

You sidle along behind the tables and stop behind the white-haired lord. He pushes his chair out, leaning into the straight wooden back. He looks up at you, cheeks ruddy with drink.

“Little dove,” he grits, “how amusing, isn’t it, to see the king afoot on the boards.”

“My lord,” you agree evenly.

“I must say he never took so happily to the dance lessons as he did the sword,” Vesemir chuckles, “though he is graceful in both. My own feet do not listen to each other.”

You bow your head, signaling your attention. You tilt your ear to him and stare at the table.

“If any knew to watch for it, they would see he does prefer another partner,” the lord sighs, “alas, it would not be wise, as I’ve told him. A king cannot so quickly descend into folly. How many times did I say the same to his own father?”

You lower your lashes.

“I believe he has heeded my foreboding,” Vesemir reaches for his goblet and grunts as he finds it empty, tilting it to show his disappointment. You move forward to grab the jug of ale and pour him a new cup. He thanks you as he watches you. “And you. You had a restful night? You were provided the promised chamber? A bed?”

“Yes, my lord, thank you,” you say, “it is rather much for a maid.”

“We both know you are not any maid,” he pauses to gulp, “tell me, dove, do you find my halls too cold?”

You set the jug down and step back on your heels. You fold your hands and consider his question as a riddle. You know not how to untangle the words of nobles so you will not try.

“Cold, yes, but not intolerable, my lord,” you answer.

“Hm, yes, but you may line your wool a bit thicker,” he reaches to pinch the cuff of your sleeve, “you would not shiver so much.” He rescinds his touch and looks into his cup, swirling the ale, “and your former castle, what was that like? Suppose the Duke of Debray is a rather busy lord, the way he scurries around like rat.”

You hesitate. You cannot tell if he refers to Lord Dustan’s betrayal.

“There’s always work for servants in a castle,” you say, “summer or winter. We were kept busy though not many ventured to Debray. It was always the lord that traveled.”

“Mm, yes, you would not guess it but this vulture’s nest is rarely so lively as this. You’ve only seen it invaded by the king and his horde. When the winter is falling, it is so quiet. The snows drown out the noise below and the ice sparkles as diamonds...” he describes dreamily, “it is calm, peaceful. Not as life is at court. I prefer it. I was never one for that farce.”

You look at him, listening intently. You think of the cave, of the moths, the desolation nestled within those icy walls. This place is beautiful despite its frosted bite. You might’ve seen clearer sooner were it not for the shroud cast on it by crowded halls.

“It is safer here,” he continues, “and even as peace is declared, times will grow no less turbulent. Wars do not end so cleanly.”

You furrow your brow and watch the lord, trying to unfold his words into their true meaning. He chuckles and empties his goblet once more. He sets it down and stands.

“Perhaps this old man does ramble in his cups,” he shakes his head, “I thank you, dove, for your ear. Loyal as you are, gentle too. You could not know what spell you cast.”

You retreat as Lord Vesemir angles his broad figure around his chair. He beckons as he turns and for a moment, you think he gestures at you. Instead, the maid, Ezme, appears from the shadows and meets him at the end of the table. He speaks to her as you back up against the wall. He walks with her from the hall as you stare after them.

His words echo in your head.

What did he mean to say all he did? Another warning of what you already dread? A suggestion that you simply could never heed? Does he suggest escape even as he denotes your futility? Or does he simple speak for nothing more than his own voice?

You look back to the king and queen. A new pitch picks up as the music swells with the stomping feet on the boards and the japes and jeers. Amid the revelry, the king remains as staunch as always, and once more, your eyes meet.

Lord Vesemir is not mistaken. There is only turmoil ahead.

⚔️

The night ends in a march along the corridors. You keep a distance from the king and queen as they walk ahead. Jazlene leans on her husband as she drunkenly babbles. Despite his discouragement, she kept to her wine. Ahead, Gilles walks with his hand on his sword.

The guard opens the queen’s doors and the king escorts his wife through. You tarry in the archway as the ginger-headed man takes his post but cannot restrain from peeking within. Jazlene falls onto her mattress and sighs, giggling into a chattering shiver.

“Oh, it is so cold,” she hugs herself, rubbing her arms.

“You should not wear satin,” the king remands.

“Rats to that!” She sneers and pushes herself up on her elbows, “I was plenty warm on the boards...” she looks at him coyly and grins, “with you, husband.”

“And the wine in your belly does convince you of warmth,” he tuts. “I’ve known many men who drank themselves to death thinking it could cure the cold.”

“Ugh, you are so dour,” she chides shrilly and sits up, reaching for him, “husband, we have a long road ahead. Will you not make use of our last night in the castle?”

He huffs, “you are drunk and I must see Lord Vesemir about our travel-”

“It is late. You might see to it in the morn,” she whines.

He exhales again. He looks down at his boots and tilts his head to his side, but does not raises his eyes. He flicks his fingers in your direction, “close the door. I will see my wife abed.”

Jazlene falls back and purrs. You can tell by the loll in her head that the wine will see her unconscious shortly. The king puts his hands to his hips and watches her as you back out and Gilles pulls shut the doors, not without undue force.

“Go then, maid,” he snarls as he steps back against the wall.

You obey. You are not certain whether to return to the chamber you shared with Ezme or to search out the servants’ quarters. You make no determination before you’re stopped the same slender shadow as the night previous.

It is Ezme, as if she was summoned by the very thought of her. She is silent as she nods and turns to lead you onward. You follow without bidding. Your stomach churns as you already know she is not taking you to sleep. Something is amiss.

You stop before a set of doors marked by iron vultures’ heads. She knocks and enters, letting you in after her. Within, Lord Vesemir sits before a fire, the glow flickering over him as he watches the flame. His shirt is untucked, his jacket disposed, and his hair hangs around his bullish face.

“Dove, your wings cannot weather these winter winds,” he declares sonorously.

You’re silent. Ezme closes the doors as you remain close to them. You peer around warily. She goes to the lord of the castle and he reaches to squeeze her hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it. You blink as you stare at them. They are...

“Please, sit down,” Vesemir insists, “I suppose we will be waiting some time for our king.”

You don’t understand. Lord Vesemir and Ezme? A noble and a servant. Yet he warns King Geralt against the same with you. It is their manner, you suppose, to do what they would tell others not to.

You don’t move. You crane to look at the doors then back to the maid and her master. It seems both Geralt and Vesemir agreed upon his attendance there that night but what place do you have there? You are not so brazen as to ask.

You relent and come further into the chamber. You sit upon the wooden stool close to the wall as Ezme lights another lamp and sets it on the table. You wring your hands in your lap as you wait in silence. The lord lowers his head, patient as he closes his eyes. Or perhaps, fatigued as you are.

Time sifts through the air like sand through a sieve. Slow and grinding. You stare at your skirts as the other maid drifts like a wraith and the lord sits as a statue. The longer you wait, the deeper the pit grows in your gut. You are owed no explanation but you long for one.

Finally, there is a tap at the doors. Just the one. Hard but not violent. Ezme moves to open the door. You stand out of habit and a large shadow enters. It is the king. His golden eyes catch the lantern light as he sees the Lord sat before his hearth.

“Vesemir, I have much to do before the sun.”

“Aye, don’t I know,” the lord says calmly, “so you best listen and not waste time or breath.”

The king angles his head, both curious and skeptical. You shift on your feet and the movement draws his attention. He winces as he sees you and his shoulders tense. He peers back at the lord in the light of the fire. He clears his throat.

“Vesemir, what is your meaning here?” The king demands.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt of rivia #dark!geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher #winter's king #au #medieval au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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creamflix · 23 days ago

Text

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 2]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, angst, slow-burn, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto, choso kamo, uraume, yuuji itadori), mentions of sickness [puking due to alcohol consumption + past trauma] - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman!choso fanfic

word count: 9.9k words

notes: thank you all so much for the positive response for our darling business tycoon sukuna, i'm beyond grateful. as i said, this will be a very slow-burn fic. i realistically have not planned out how many chapters i'm gonna write [ridiculous, i know] but i will make a masterlist soon! keep your eye out for that. and please, enjoy.

masterlist

this was a new low, even for sukuna. it felt like the earth had swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but his pride to choke on.

how the hell did i end up here? he thought bitterly, staring at yuuji, his fresh-out-of-high-school little brother, who was now sitting in his plush office chair, twirling a pen like it was the most exciting thing in the world. having yuuji be my intern as a marketing strategist... the words tasted like bile in his mouth. it wasn’t that his business was struggling — far from it — but the “experts” had insisted that “gen-z knows gen-z the best” and that ryomen’s brand needed a fresh perspective to appeal to younger audiences. a whole load of crap, but sukuna had grudgingly agreed.

and of all people, yuuji was the one sitting across from him, smiling like a kid who just found out he could have dessert before dinner.

“you get my range rover for the time you’re here, and an extra week to stay at the miami penthouse. deal?” sukuna offered with a grumble, the words almost painful to say.

yuuji, without missing a beat, grinned. “you strike a hard bargain, but i agree.”

“range rover with a chauffeur!” sukuna barked. “you are not taking that damn thing out by yourself —”

“can’t hear you!” yuuji sang out as he already started texting his friends, probably to brag about his temporary ride.

is this my life now? sukuna thought, eyes narrowing at his brother. the contrast between them was maddening. how did they look so alike yet end up so different? sukuna, a figure of intimidating presence and silent power, versus yuuji, the golden retriever of the family, bouncing off walls with enthusiasm that never seemed to dwindle. it was exhausting.

yet... sukuna sighed inwardly. it felt right. as weird as it was to turn to his younger brother for advice on how to steer his multi-million dollar company toward the hearts of gen-z, there was an unspoken reason behind this move. sukuna wouldn’t admit it out loud — not to anyone — but this was a veiled excuse to spend more time with yuuji. i want to see him grow up before it’s too late... before i miss out on everything.

the conversation replayed in sukuna’s mind, the phone call that had set this whole thing into motion. he remembered dialing choso’s number that monday night, pacing in his study like he had something far more important to discuss than the simple request he was about to make.

“what’s up?” choso’s familiar, calm voice answered, and sukuna could practically hear the eyebrow raise on the other side of the line. no doubt he knows something’s up...

“is the brat free?” sukuna asked, cutting straight to the point, though his tone held a gruffness that masked the underlying hesitation.

“you mean yuuji?” choso sounded amused. “yeah, he’s around. why? you finally listening to my advice?”

sukuna clenched his jaw. damn choso and his know-it-all attitude. “just tell me if he’s coming or not,” sukuna snapped. “i’ll have him picked up.”

there was a pause, and then choso chuckled, a low sound that grated sukuna’s nerves. “you’re really doing it, huh? alright. he’ll be there.”

sukuna grunted a reply and ended the call before choso could get in another word. the weight of that decision settled on him as soon as the line went dead. what am i doing? he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. he had run away from all that domestic crap years ago, leaving choso with the burden of raising yuuji while sukuna carved out his empire. now he was dragging his baby brother into the corporate world, hoping for... what? a way to reconnect? maybe. maybe even to prove to himself that he hadn’t completely abandoned his family.

yuuji, on the other hand, was overjoyed. from the moment he stepped foot into the sleek, glass-paneled office building, he was bouncing off every wall — metaphorically, at least. sukuna’s employees, most of whom had only ever seen their boss in stoic, business mode, were stunned by the whirlwind that was yuuji itadori. he was talking to them like they were old friends, cracking jokes, and asking questions about their jobs, all while everyone tried to reconcile the fact that this was sukuna’s little brother.

it’s insane how they look so alike, one of the marketing assistants whispered to another, but they’re complete opposites.

sukuna, watching from his corner office, didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated. he’s not here to make friends. he’s here to work. but deep down, he couldn’t deny a strange sense of satisfaction seeing yuuji here, in his world, even if it was just for a short while.

as the days passed, sukuna found himself in unfamiliar territory. instead of barking orders, he found himself... mentoring. guiding yuuji through the nuances of marketing, albeit begrudgingly. at first, it was awkward, like two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. but yuuji, with his boundless energy and openness, had a way of easing into things, even cracking sukuna’s icy exterior, bit by bit.

maybe this isn’t so bad, sukuna thought one evening as yuuji chattered on about trends and social media engagement, something sukuna would normally roll his eyes at. but now, he listened, actually listened.

and if this is what it takes to spend time with him... well, sukuna could make the sacrifice.

“oi nii-chan, is it true you and miss persephone lady used to work togeth–”

“enough with that crap! i got you here to work, not read through some trashy tabloid!” sukuna snapped, slamming his laptop shut as he glared at his younger brother.

it had been a few days since yuuji started officially interning for ryomen, and to sukuna’s surprise, the kid wasn’t half bad. he had this knack for understanding what gen z wanted — though sukuna would never admit that aloud — and somehow, yuuji managed to get him on tiktok. tiktok, of all things.

“trust me, bro, just hold the bottle up, smile a little… no, not like you’re about to kill someone — there, that’s it! just smile like a regular human.” yuuji had been chirping as he filmed his brother, who begrudgingly lifted a bottle of his own product in front of the camera.

sukuna had scoffed at the ridiculousness of it, but the reel blew up overnight, racking up millions of views. comments poured in, and to sukuna’s dismay, most of them weren’t even about the product.

"who’s the hot dilf in the suit?!"

"omg i’d buy anything daddy’s selling 😩💦"

"daddy energy is off the charts!! does he need a wife?"

"i’m literally ordering a case just ‘cause he held it, help."

meanwhile, you and suguru were practically losing your minds over the viral tiktok. not that you had anything to really worry about — persephone was the "hot girl drink" among gen z, and tiktok was basically your playground. but as a businesswoman, it irked you to see a slight dip in your numbers. for the first time in a while, your usually devoted fanbase — the ones who’d raid your comments with praise and love — had migrated to thirst over at ryomen's instead.

“those assholes knew exactly what they were doing when they whored out their boss like that,” suguru muttered, scrolling through the comments of the video, eyes narrowing at every thirst post he passed.

“suguru! language!” you scolded, shooting him a glare, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of his observation.

“what? it’s true! look at him,” he huffed, gesturing toward the screen.

you paused, hesitantly glancing at the video again. and, well… he wasn’t wrong. sukuna had the whole tall, brooding, dark look going for him. it was no wonder half the internet was drooling over him.

“if i had to hazard a guess, they probably had a younger kid think of this,” suguru added, now analyzing the marketing tactic. “they know their stuff. gen z eats this up.”

you let out a frustrated sigh. “whatever, it doesn’t matter. we need to bounce back.”

suguru grinned mischievously. “oh, i’ve got a few ideas. starting with—”

“suguru,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at him, “for the last time, i am not letting you get shirtless on camera.”

he laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “hey, just offering my services! we’re losing to thirst traps here.”

you rolled your eyes, already brainstorming new strategies. “we don’t need thirst traps to win. we’re better than that.”

“yeah, yeah,” suguru smirked. “but admit it, they played their hand well with this one.”

despite his annoyance at the flood of thirsty comments, the numbers didn’t lie. the reel translated into a surprising sales boost for ryomen’s wine. sukuna was on a high after that win, but deep down, he knew it was all thanks to yuuji's ridiculous idea. actually saying "thank you"? yeah, right. that wasn’t gonna happen. instead, he decided to take yuuji to one of the socialite parties he was invited to as a subtle reward, even though he warned him, “you screw around, and i’ll throw your ass out in front of everyone.”

yuuji had grinned ear to ear. “don’t worry nii-chan, i’ll behave!”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but there was a part of him that was secretly proud. the brat was doing well, and in some twisted way, this was also an excuse to spend more time with him.

the whole tiktok situation still irked sukuna, though. since when was his image the selling point? the product was solid on its own, but apparently, gen z loved "hot dilfs" now. ridiculous. but whatever works, he thought with a scoff.

as they pulled up to the socialite event, yuuji practically bounced out of the car, eyes wide at the grandeur of the venue. sukuna shot him a sidelong glance, grumbling under his breath, “remember what i said, don’t screw this up.”

yuuji gave a mock salute, “aye, aye, captain!”

sukuna couldn’t help but smirk, but quickly covered it up with a scowl as they walked in.

you and suguru arrived early at the party, mingling with some of the top players from all industries. dressed in a scarlet gown, you felt like you blended right in with the glamour, while suguru, matching in a dark-red suit, stayed close enough so that you two could exchange subtle glances as you navigated through different groups of people.

meanwhile, sukuna was keeping an eye on yuuji, who was fidgeting next to him. “oi, nii-chan, isn’t that —” yuuji began, his eyes locking onto your figure across the room.

“brat, stop staring,” sukuna growled under his breath, half-annoyed but mostly frustrated. it was almost guaranteed he’d run into you and that bastard suguru at events like this — but now? here? with yuuji around? his blood pressure spiked instantly.

where the hell is yuuji?

his eyes darted around until he saw him — of course — bouncing over toward you as you stood at the bar, ordering a drink. sukuna’s jaw clenched as he watched. martini. how fucking cliché, he scoffed internally. though, admittedly, it did match your dress. but that wasn’t the problem here.

“hi miss!” yuuji’s voice cut through the crowd as he stood in front of you, grinning like an excited puppy.

you blinked in surprise, turning to look at him. “hey, little guy, you lost or something?”

“why does everyone think i’m little?!” yuuji whined, puffing his chest out a little. “i’m literally eighteen…”

“eighteen is still pretty little,” you teased with a smirk. “i can bet you’re the youngest one here.”

yuuji pouted. “ugh, fine… anyways, my name’s yuuji! yuuji itadori, i’m sukun—”

“brat!” sukuna’s growl cut him off as he stormed over, eyes flashing with annoyance.

you raised an eyebrow, recognition flashing in your eyes as soon as you heard that name. "so... yuuji itadori, huh?" you mused with a slight grin, your gaze shifting from yuuji to sukuna, who now stood towering beside him.

sukuna glared at yuuji. “what’d i tell you about running off, huh?”

yuuji sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, looking between you and his brother. “uhh, my bad, bro…”

sukuna was caught between two options: curtly apologize to you for yuuji’s sudden interruption or yank the brat by the collar and lecture him about keeping his head in the game. but as you sipped that ridiculous martini of yours, eyeing him and yuuji like they were some kind of curiosity, he found himself staying put.

"this one’s yours?" you asked, an amused smile playing on your lips. sukuna grunted in response, gripping yuuji's collar just a bit tighter. yuuji winced, squirming under the hold. "ow ow ow — nii-chan!"

you tilted your head, a curious glint in your eyes as you took in the scene. "if i dare guess," you began, your gaze landing squarely on sukuna with a knowing smile, "is the little one part of your marketing team?"

before sukuna could respond, yuuji eagerly jumped in, clearly excited to explain. “yes! i did that! the tiktok i mean, did you like it?”

your laugh was warm and genuine, a sound that only seemed to irritate sukuna more. "a lot of people did," you replied, still holding his gaze as you gave yuuji a nod. "but persephone’s numbers didn’t. you did well, yuuji."

yuuji lit up like a damn firework, beaming as if you’d handed him a golden trophy. sukuna scoffed, his irritation mounting. putting down your own company just to kiss the competition’s ass? what kinda idiot does that? he thought, glaring at you like you were the source of his current migraine. meanwhile, yuuji’s grin seemed to be growing bigger by the second — wasn’t there a limit to how much one person could beam? he could practically light up a whole city with the way he was grinning at you.

disgusting.

“you don’t have to suck up to her,” sukuna grumbled, finally releasing yuuji’s collar and crossing his arms. “her numbers are probably tanking ‘cause of us, and she knows it.”

you raised an eyebrow, sipping your martini like the whole thing was a joke. “maybe so, but your brother’s the reason for that, right?” you said calmly, giving yuuji a wink. “it’s only fair to acknowledge talent where it’s due.”

yuuji blinked, clearly basking in the compliment. "thanks, miss! nii-chan doesn’t say it, but i know he's proud of me."

sukuna shot his brother a look. “don’t push your luck, brat.”

you chuckled at the exchange, swirling the glass in your hand. “oh, i don’t know. seems like he’s doing a good job. maybe you should keep him around a little longer.”

“yeah, nii-chan, maybe i should get a permanent job here!” yuuji chimed in, totally missing the sarcastic undertones flying between the two of you.

sukuna clenched his jaw. great. just what i needed — both of them ganging up on me.

before the banter could progress any further, suguru’s voice cut through the little bubble like a sharp blade. "well, am i interrupting something?" he asked, his tone deceptively smooth, though his eyes were locked on sukuna and yuuji with much less warmth. he smiled at you, a softer, genuine expression, but then he let his gaze linger back on the two brothers. “look what the cat dragged in. as if one wasn’t enough, we now have two.”

sukuna was already seeing red, his fist clenching by his side. you want to throw shots at me? fine. but take a swing at my little brother, and i’ll rip you apart. just as he was about to snap back, ready to tear into suguru, yuuji’s voice cut through the tension in the air.

“dude... what is that haircare routine?” yuuji asked, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity.

the sheer randomness of the question left all three adults in momentary silence. you barely managed to hold back a laugh, your martini glass pressed to your lips as you tried to stifle the sound. suguru, on the other hand, just blinked, dumbfounded, as if he wasn’t sure if yuuji was joking or serious.

“are you… are you serious?” suguru finally asked, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

yuuji nodded earnestly, clearly unaware of the tension that had been suffocating the air moments before. “yeah, dude. it’s, like, so shiny! how do you do it?”

the awkward silence that followed was broken by your quiet scoff of amusement, followed by a smile you tried to hide behind your glass. even suguru, momentarily disarmed, glanced sideways at you, but it was clear that yuuji’s completely unintentional intervention had somehow postponed the inevitable face-off.

for now.

sukuna, though still seething, was momentarily taken aback by his brother’s pure, childlike curiosity, his anger simmering into frustration instead. “are you fuckin’ serious” he muttered under his breath, not entirely sure if he should laugh or smack yuuji upside the head.

suguru shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his admittedly perfect hair, before giving sukuna a pointed look. “well, i suppose the brat has taste. not everyone can pull this off,” he said, his smugness barely hidden as he flicked his gaze between sukuna and you.

you chuckled, finally lowering your glass. "i don’t know, suguru. maybe he’s got a point." you smiled at yuuji, enjoying the brief moment of levity that, for once, didn’t involve the constant tension between the two men.

“excuse us,” sukuna grunted bluntly, shoving past you and suguru as he dragged yuuji along with him.

“oi, ow ow, ouch — nii-chan, i can walk!” yuuji whined, trying to free himself from sukuna’s iron grip.

“can’t trust you to be ‘walking’ around anywhere anymore, brat,” sukuna shot back, his tone harsh but not without a hint of affection.

“but ’m eighteen! i’m practically a grown-up!” yuuji protested, pouting as he tried to keep up.

“grown-up? please. you’re still a kid in my eyes,” sukuna scoffed, shaking his head. “and you think you can just stroll up to a stranger at a party? she could be a gold digger or something.”

“she’s pretty, you know,” yuuji blurted out, his eyes wide with admiration as he glanced back at you.

“like hell she is! god, i swear the bar gets lower and lower with each generation,” sukuna replied, his voice dripping with disdain, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity about you.

“what’s wrong with being pretty? you’re just jealous!” yuuji exclaimed, finally breaking free and spinning to face sukuna. “you’re the one who’s grumpy all the time!”

“grumpy? i’m just realistic. just because you think some girl is pretty doesn’t mean she’s not trouble,” sukuna retorted, crossing his arms as he glared at his brother.

“but she’s not trouble! she’s cool! she even said i did a good job on that tiktok!” yuuji defended, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“yeah, well, that’s probably just her being nice to you,” sukuna replied, rolling his eyes. “i bet she’s just buttering you up.”

“she’s not!” yuuji insisted, his voice rising. “i really think she likes me—”

“likes you? please, she’s probably just being polite,” sukuna interrupted, clearly annoyed. “you’re not exactly a catch, you know.”

“that’s mean!” yuuji shot back, his bottom lip jutting out. “i’m a great catch! i’ve got mad skills!”

“mad skills? like what, jumping around and acting like a fool? you’re a kid, yuuji. stay in your lane,” sukuna scoffed, his tone lightening just a bit.

meanwhile, back at the bar, suguru’s usually composed face is clouded with concern. “you’re okay, right? he didn’t say anything? hurt you? touch y—”

“sugu, i’m fine! really,” you reply, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. he lets out a grumble, clearly still irritated, as he plops down next to you on the perched bar stool. his hand reaches out for yours in a quiet, almost shy gesture of reassurance.

“sukuna may be an ass, but he won’t compromise on yuuji’s safety by starting a scene,” you add, trying to ease his worry.

“you know that kid?” suguru asks, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“more or less. i used to make monthly bank transfers to a ‘yuuji itadori,’ so i’m guessing it’s him,” you explain with a shrug.

“huh, guess that pink-haired fiend actually has a heart somewhere in there.” suguru scoffs, shaking his head.

“suguru!” you nudge him with your elbow, stifling a laugh.

“no, but seriously,” he softens, his gaze searching your face. “you good, vino? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“yeah, i’m fine. i was... kinda expecting him here, you know. and besides, i’’m over it,” you say, a hint of finality in your tone. you take a breath, glancing around the room before turning back to him with a playful roll of your eyes. “and can you please stop calling me vino?”

“what! it sounds classy,” suguru grins, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“classy? it sounds like i’m a bottle on the top shelf at a wine shop,” you reply, feigning annoyance but unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face.

“hey, if the shoe fits…” he teases, his grip on your hand tightening briefly, a small reminder that he’s always got your back — even when sukuna’s around.

“no, but seriously,” suguru leans in, his tone soft yet firm. “you don’t need to worry about sukuna. you’re in your own element right now. don’t let pinkie pie over there ruin it for you.”

you let out a laugh, his words pulling you out of your thoughts, and suguru's smile deepens as he watches the corners of your lips lift. god, he loved seeing you smile like that. it’s moments like these that make him grateful you came out stronger. though he hated the rough patches you’d been through, there was nothing he admired more than your resilience. he realized just how much he loved seeing you happy, and he hated the thought of you ever hurting, especially because of someone like sukuna. that bastard had taken enough from you, but here you were, standing taller than ever, glowing even. and suguru loved that about you — the way you’d come out of the storm stronger. even when things got tough, you always found a way to push through.

but it didn’t stop him from worrying. it never would.

“you know i got you, right?” he asked quietly, almost as if he needed to remind you — but also himself. his grip tightened just a bit, an anchor in the noisy room.

when you smiled and squeezed his hand back, saying, "of course i do, sugu," it was like the weight on his chest lightened just a little.

screw sukuna, he thought. no matter what came next, as long as you had him, you wouldn’t be facing anything alone. and that was all that mattered.

he nods, but there’s a twinge of frustration simmering beneath the surface. he wants to protect you from all the bullshit that comes with this industry, especially from someone like sukuna. he knows you’re tough and capable, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing he could shield you from the chaos.

“just… keep doing what you’re doing. you’re incredible, and you deserve every bit of success coming your way.” his gaze holds yours, sincere and unwavering. he knows you’ve faced challenges, and he’s proud to stand by you, no matter what.

“thanks, suguru. it means a lot.” your voice is soft, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of understanding.

“cursed vintages: sip the darkness, savor the power? you can’t be serious.”

you stared in disbelief at the large billboard advertising sukuna’s latest venture. of course, it was dramatic, leaning into the over-the-top theatrics that fit his brand. cursed vintages was a direct competitor to your upcoming release, spirited whispers: a hauntingly light sip for your eerie nights! the timing was too convenient, almost as if sukuna had planned it just to outshine you. you couldn’t help but scoff at the absurd tagline — sip the darkness, savor the power — it was so him.

as frustrating as it was, you knew sukuna’s bold play was part of a larger strategy. he'd always aimed to dominate, but he wouldn't dare cross the line by doing something illegal, like price-fixing. that wasn’t his style. sukuna might be ruthless, but he wasn't careless, and losing face over something so reckless wasn't in the cards for him.

you cast an irritated glance at the massive advertisement towering over your office’s commercial district. sukuna and a model posed elegantly on either side of his new wine, their faces shadowed by the bold branding. sukuna’s smirk was infuriating, like he knew exactly how much it would annoy you. it was clear he was leveraging his good looks to boost sales and push his brand, playing on his appeal in the most obvious way.

but you weren’t one to back down. as you studied the billboard, an idea sparked in your mind — something bold, something that could turn the tables.

“sugu! i’ve got an idea,” you burst into suguru’s office, a mischievous grin on your face. “but…you need to get shirtless for this.”

suguru’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “what now?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, clearly skeptical of whatever plan you had.

“you heard me,” you replied, undeterred. “we’re gonna hit sukuna where it hurts — if he’s going to flaunt his looks to sell wine, then we’ll do the same.”

suguru gave you a half-laugh, half-sigh. “so…your genius marketing plan involves me stripping down?”

you nodded, a grin playing on your lips. “trust me, it’ll work. we need something bold, something viral. a frat party-style ad, with you right in the middle of it. everyone will be talking about it.”

he shook his head, chuckling. “fine, but only because you asked.”

within days, your ad was everywhere. people couldn’t get enough of it — the combination of modern-day recession pop music and the carefree, chaotic energy of a frat party resonated across generations. the low-budget aesthetic only made it more relatable, especially with suguru’s shirtless appearance front and center, surrounded by a crowd of partygoers. spirited whispers became the go-to drink for college parties, nostalgic millennials, and even curious onlookers who wanted a piece of the action.

sales skyrocketed. within a week and a half, your six-month stock was completely sold out. spirited whispers had blown up in ways you hadn’t anticipated, becoming a cultural phenomenon. and the best part? sukuna was furious.

back at sukuna’s office, yuuji was taking the fallout personally. slouched in one of the chairs, he sighed. “it’s my fault, right? we didn’t work hard enough, and now persephone’s–”

“it’s not your fault, brat,” sukuna cut him off sharply, his frustration evident but not directed at his younger brother. seeing yuuji’s dejected expression made sukuna bristle. “you’re just an intern. whatever you did, you did it well, so stop moping around like this.”

yuuji looked up, surprised by the rare hint of praise. “i’ll work harder, nii-chan! i’ll make you proud, i promise.”

sukuna’s heart clenched slightly at yuuji’s words. despite his tough exterior, moments like these reminded him why he was so driven to succeed. everything he did, all the ruthless business tactics, it was for his family, especially yuuji.

before sukuna could respond, uraume, his most trusted employee, stormed into the office, looking uncharacteristically rattled. “sir, you need to see this,” they said urgently, handing sukuna a tablet. the headline blared in bold, sensationalized text:

"former secretary to powerful business mogul becomes rival: y/n’s rise to stardom amidst scandal"

sukuna’s jaw clenched as he read the article. of course, they were dredging up old rumors, trying to link your past employment under him to some scandalous narrative. the tabloids had clearly caught wind of your recent success, and now they were out for blood, twisting your story into something salacious.

this wasn’t just business anymore. sukuna’s anger simmered beneath the surface, but his mind was already moving. it was time to put an end to this.

“schedule a meeting,” sukuna said coldly.

“with who?” uraume asked, though they already had a good idea.

“with y/n,” sukuna answered, his eyes narrowing. “it’s time we settled this.”

“you got mail, vino,” suguru teased as he stepped into your office, holding up his tablet with a faint grin. “pinkie pie wants to set up a meeting tomorrow.”

you raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-skeptical. “all it took was you getting shirtless for him to come visit us, suguru,” you teased, trying to keep the mood light despite the hint of tension beneath your words.

but suguru didn’t laugh. instead, his expression shifted slightly, his tone more serious. “not us, y/n. just you. he… asked for you, specifically.”

the way he said it made your stomach drop. “what do you mean, sugu?”

suguru sighed, his easy demeanor replaced by something more somber. “y/n, this meeting… it’s not just about the wine. someone published a full-length tabloid piece. on you and sukuna.”

your blood ran cold. all the teasing left your body, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. “sugu, tell me you’re lying,” you said, your voice shaky, desperately hoping this was just another one of his jokes.

he looked at you with regret in his eyes, shaking his head. “i’m not, y/n. i’m sorry. we’re already working to get it removed from our end, but it’s all over the place.”

his words felt distant, muffled, as your thoughts spiraled. the whole reason you’d thrown yourself into this business, the late nights, the strategy, the risks — it was all to make a name for yourself. to not be associated with sukuna, to stand on your own feet and build something without his shadow looming over you. but now it felt like all that effort had been undone, like your entire identity was being dragged back into his orbit.

why did it feel like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape him? were you that devoid of luck, of any hope for a clean slate, let alone a happy ending?

your hands gripped the edge of your desk as you fought to steady your breath, your mind racing. suguru stepped closer, concern softening his voice. “y/n, we’ll figure this out. this isn’t the end.”

but all you could think about was tomorrow. the meeting. facing sukuna again.

sukuna strode into your office building, lips curling into a sneer as he scanned the crowd of employees milling around. "what the fuck is this place?," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the laid-back environment.

some people were dressed so casually he had to wonder if they were on their way to a beach party instead of working. baggy t-shirts, sneakers, and even someone in what looked like pajama pants — it was a far cry from the cutthroat atmosphere of his own office. how the hell did you run a successful business with this ragtag bunch?

but, sukuna wasn’t an idiot. persephone’s numbers were some of the best in the industry. these kids — these kids were the ones who’d been fucking with his sales for weeks now. and he couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he hated it. never trust a book by its cover, right? even if this office looked like a frat house, it clearly delivered results.

still, the sight of it grated on him. made his skin crawl. "what a goddamn joke," he thought, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he made his way to your office.

the moment he pushed open the door, though, expecting to see you, he stopped dead in his tracks. it wasn’t your figure behind the desk — it was suguru, leaning casually back in your chair like he owned the place.

“what the fuck is this, now?” sukuna's voice was harsh, his frustration immediately bubbling over. he hadn’t come here to deal with your right-hand man.

suguru, unfazed by sukuna’s usual brashness, just smiled, sitting up slightly. “sorry, y/n’s not here right now. emergency shipping issue. had to send her out across the city. guess you’re stuck with me.”

sukuna’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you really think i’m gonna believe that shit? sounds like a fuckin’ excuse to avoid me.”

suguru shrugged, clearly not bothered by sukuna’s attitude. “believe what you want, man. i’m just telling you how it is. besides,” he added with a smirk, “what’d you need y/n for anyway? i’m perfectly capable of handling a little business negotiation.”

the office was large, sleek, and modern — surprisingly professional compared to the chaos outside. it pissed sukuna off more that everything was in perfect order, like you’d been expecting him to show up. the leather chair, the spotless glass desk — it all looked ready to welcome him. except it wasn’t you sitting there, it was this fucker.

sukuna gritted his teeth, the itch to throw suguru out of the chair gnawing at him. he wasn’t used to being thrown off like this. this was supposed to be simple, just get in, handle things with you, and get the hell out. now he was stuck, dealing with suguru and his cool, unbothered demeanor.

“look, i don’t got time for this bullshit. where the hell is she?” sukuna growled.

suguru leaned forward slightly, still maintaining that infuriating smile. “she’s not avoiding you, sukuna. but you showing up like this… it’s kinda unnecessary, don’t you think? it’s not like y/n’s going anywhere. if there’s something you want to talk about, i’m right here. what’s the rush?”

sukuna snorted, anger barely restrained. “don’t fucking act like you know what this is about.”

suguru tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “actually, i do. i know about the tabloid. i know why you’re here. but that doesn’t mean y/n has to deal with your shit, sukuna.”

sukuna felt his blood boil. this asshole, stepping in like he knew everything. like he could stop him from getting what he wanted. "you're lucky you're still in that chair, you smug piece of shit."

suguru’s calm never wavered. “and you’re lucky i’m still talking to you. trust me, y/n doesn’t need your bullshit right now.”

sukuna glared daggers at him, the whole situation making him want to smash something. "fuck this," he thought, but deep down, he knew suguru had pulled a fast one on him. he could feel it, a tightness in his chest, like the whole reason he came here was slipping out of his grasp. you. he’d wanted to see you. confront you. and now… now he was just left fuming at a man who wouldn’t budge.

sukuna, jaw tight, took a deep breath. as much as he wanted to throw suguru through the fucking window, he knew they needed to get this over with. he wasn’t the type to drag out bullshit conversations, and if this was the only way to move things along, then so be it.

“fine,” sukuna growled, leaning back in the chair across from suguru. “let’s talk business then. i’m proposing a collaboration between ryomen and persephone.”

the words sounded alien coming from his mouth, like some kind of bitter aftertaste. sukuna wasn’t one to collaborate with anyone, let alone with someone who had been running circles around him lately. but he wasn’t dumb. christmas was coming, and after that, new year’s — the prime season for wine sales. speaking purely from a business perspective, it made sense. persephone had the youth market in their pocket, and sukuna had the high-end crowd. together, they could dominate both.

suguru raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “a collaboration? you’re serious?”

“do i look like i’m fucking joking?” sukuna snapped, running a hand through his hair, the irritation visible in his body language. “look, i don’t like this shit any more than you do. but it’s smart, and it’ll work. your low-alcohol crap and my high-end shit? we could wipe out the competition through the end of the year. christmas, new year’s — people are buying like crazy. we take advantage of it.”

suguru leaned back in your chair, crossing his arms as he watched sukuna. “what’s the catch?”

sukuna narrowed his eyes. “there’s no fucking catch. it’s a straightforward deal. we both profit. easy as that.”

but suguru wasn’t buying it. “yeah, sure. but what happens when you sideline us? when ryomen suddenly take the spotlight and persephone’s pushed out of the picture?” suguru’s voice was steady, but his words were sharp. he wasn’t falling for any tricks.

sukuna clenched his fists, his temper flaring again. “you think i’m a fucking cheat? that i’m gonna fuck you guys over just because i can?” he stood up, looming over suguru. “i might be a lot of things, but when it comes to business, i don’t fuck around. if i say we’re in this together, we’re fucking in it together.”

suguru didn’t flinch, even as sukuna loomed over him, radiating barely contained rage. “you’ll forgive me if i don’t take you at your word, sukuna.”

sukuna let out a bitter laugh, stepping back slightly, but still glaring down at suguru. “you’re paranoid, geto. but fine, i get it. i’m not asking you to trust me. i’m asking you to look at the numbers. this works. you know it does.”

suguru studied sukuna for a moment before responding, his tone calm. “even if i do entertain this idea, what’s stopping you from trying to bulldoze us in the future?”

sukuna’s patience snapped. “because i don’t need to! i got my own goddamn empire to run. you think i’ve got time to fuck around with your company? this is a one-time deal. you either take it or you don’t. and trust me, geto, if you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

there was a heavy silence between them, the weight of sukuna’s words hanging in the air. it was clear that, while he was brash and crude, sukuna wasn’t here to mess around.

as much as suguru wanted to tell sukuna to fuck off, he knew this wasn’t a decision he could make on his own, not without your input. he couldn’t afford to be reckless, no matter how tempting it was to tell sukuna exactly where to shove his so-called “collaboration.”

suguru gave a tight-lipped smile, standing up from behind your desk. “we’ll think about it and get back to you.”

sukuna’s eyes flashed with frustration, his jaw clenching as he stepped closer to suguru. “you better make it quick,” he growled, the warning clear in his voice.

suguru didn’t flinch, holding his ground. “we’ll be in touch,” he said, his tone firm but not aggressive, making it clear that the conversation was over.

with a scoff, sukuna turned on his heel and stormed out, the tension in the air still thick even after he was gone. suguru let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, sitting back down and rubbing his temples. as much as he hated dealing with sukuna, he knew this was something you’d need to decide.

“hey, vino, how was the shipping —”

“geto, why did you lie to me?”

your voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and cold. suguru, lounging comfortably on the sofa like he owned the place, straightened up immediately, the usual warmth of your voice replaced by something far more biting. being called "geto" instead of "sugu" was all he needed to know that he was in trouble — deep trouble.

he glanced up at you, eyes widening slightly at your expression. you were pissed, more than he had anticipated. “wait, hold on — what are you talking about?”

you slammed your bag onto the nearest table, glaring at him like you were about to explode. “you lied to me about the emergency, suguru! what the hell? you sent me on some bogus errand just so i’d miss sukuna showing up at the office? are you out of your goddamn mind?”

suguru winced at the bluntness of your words. he knew you’d be mad, but this? this was worse than he’d thought. “look, i just didn’t want you dealing with that asshole today, alright? you’ve been stressed, and —"

“so you thought lying to me and sending me on a wild goose chase would help?!” you snapped, pacing angrily. “you made me look like an idiot, suguru! and for what? to protect me from sukuna? i can handle myself, you know.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i know you can, but —"

“no, you don’t know!” you cut him off, your frustration bubbling over. “you don’t get to decide how i handle my shit. i needed to be there for that meeting, and now you’ve just made it ten times worse!”

he opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t having it. “you’re not my babysitter, suguru. stop treating me like some delicate fucking flower.”

as you stood there, fuming, suguru got up from the sofa and walked toward you with that irritatingly calm demeanor of his. “come on, sweetheart, calm down for a sec,” he called for you softly, even though you wanted to stay mad at him. his hand found its way to your arm, rubbing slow, calming circles as he stood close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

you hated how easily he could chip away at your anger like this. you let out a tired sigh, the fight draining out of you, leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. “suguru, this was still messed up,” you muttered, though the sharpness in your tone had softened.

he felt his heart race at the contact, but kept his expression cool. “i know, i know. i was just trying to look out for you, but i get it — you don’t need me to do that.” he paused, his voice dropping slightly, “about the meeting... sukuna proposed a deal. a collaboration for the holiday season.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him. “a deal? with sukuna?” the skepticism was clear in your voice.

“yeah. i don’t like it either, but it could be good for business,” he said, his thumb still tracing soothing patterns on your arm. “i figured we’d at least consider it.”

you sighed again, your frustration ebbing into something more like exhaustion. “alright. let’s take the deal. but next time, no more bullshit, okay?”

he gave a small smile, relief washing over him. “okay.”

suguru pulled out his phone and quickly texted your secretary to notify sukuna that they’d agree to the proposal. as he sent the message, he couldn’t help but glance at you, still leaning slightly against him. his heart was beating faster than it should’ve, but he ignored it, focusing instead on getting business done.

“don’t ask, the brat insisted he sit here.” sukuna scoffed, gesturing at yuuji, who was practically bouncing in his seat, excitement radiating off him. it was hard to blame him, though; after all, they were making history here — ryomen collaborating with persephone.

“so, pretty simple — we start a joint venture solely for the christmas and new year’s season, walk out with the profits, and pretend this never happened. deal?” sukuna stated, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence.

“wow, nii-chan, you make a multi-billion deal sound so simple,” yuuji chimed in, his wide eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. he received an annoyed glare from sukuna in response.

“he’s right,” you spoke up for the first time since entering the room, your voice steady. “we still need to discuss a lot more things in detail.”

sukuna scowled at you, torn between respect for your attention to detail and irritation that this wasn’t as straightforward as he’d hoped. “what more is there to discuss? we’re splitting profits, that’s it.”

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “for starters, we need to decide how the marketing will work. are we promoting under both brands or focusing solely on one? and how do we plan to handle distribution?”

sukuna shrugged, leaning back as if your questions didn’t faze him. “we just let our teams figure that out. they’re good at what they do. just make sure to keep your eye on your side of things.”

“that’s not exactly a solid plan,” you replied, your tone firm. “if we don’t have a cohesive strategy, we risk losing customers on both sides.”

“so you want to babysit my team?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“no, i want to ensure that this partnership is beneficial for both of us,” you retorted, holding his gaze. “we need to figure out our target audience and how to appeal to them. plus, we should set clear expectations for each party involved.”

yuuji, sensing the rising tension, jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation. “what if we create a special holiday blend? something unique to this collaboration? that way, we can market it together and have fun with it!”

sukuna looked at yuuji, momentarily surprised by the suggestion. “not a terrible idea, brat. but what’s your point?”

“it’ll give us something to push on social media, too! and if we make it limited edition, people will rush to buy it. we can use both of your brands to create buzz,” yuuji explained, his enthusiasm infectious.

“i like that,” you said, nodding in agreement. “it adds value and creates urgency. plus, we can promote it as a holiday exclusive, which will draw in more customers.”

sukuna crossed his arms, still skeptical. “fine, let’s say we go with that. but what’s next? i’m not wasting time on endless meetings.”

“then let’s set a timeline,” you suggested, jotting down notes on your tablet. “we need deadlines for marketing materials, production schedules, and launch dates. if we want this to work, we need to be organized.”

“alright, let’s lay it out,” sukuna relented, though he still had that signature scowl on his face. “but you better not fuck this up for me, or you’ll be hearing from me.”

you smirked, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “trust me, sukuna. if anyone’s going to fuck this up, it won’t be me.”

the collaboration between ryomen and persephone was the talk of the town post-halloween. the launch of your joint christmas and new year holiday special didn’t just turn heads — it seemed to capture the attention of every major sector. market analysts were buzzing with reports about the wine industry’s trajectory, forecasting the impact your collaboration would have on both your companies’ market shares. singers and actors began endorsing your holiday blend, and even some of the biggest names in the industry wanted in. you and sukuna even managed to rope in mariah carey herself — a massive investment that nearly drained both of your wallets. but with profits flooding in almost immediately after, it felt more like a minor hiccup than a real setback.

tabloids, unsurprisingly, had a field day with it. their favorite narrative? that you were using your past connection with sukuna to get ahead in the market. "she’s leveraging her history with him,” they’d gossip. but just as quickly, the defense came: “they just hate to see a girlboss winning.” the tabloids were shut down by the people, who were more focused on how well the collaboration was doing rather than who was behind it.

honestly, working with sukuna wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it’d be. sure, there was the occasional scowl or blunt comment at board meetings, but sukuna seemed to have more of a professional demeanor when it came to business. you only saw him once or twice during presentations or negotiations, and whenever you did, suguru was always close by. he’d be leaning in with a quick comment, making sure you felt comfortable, making it easier to shrug off sukuna’s sharper remarks.

things were actually starting to look good for once. there was hope, a sense of optimism that maybe things could keep going this well. your company was thriving, the collaboration was a success, and your name was gaining even more recognition in the industry.

until that damn christmas party.

the festive atmosphere had been building up for weeks — holiday music, the smell of mulled wine and cinnamon, twinkling lights strung up across your office’s ceiling. persephone and ryomen had decided to throw a joint christmas bash for both companies to celebrate the success of your holiday line. everything seemed to be going smoothly.

that was, until things started to go a bit too smoothly.

everything was fine and dandy until you thought, why not have a sip of ryomen wine? after all, it had been so long since you'd last tried it, right? but the moment that familiar taste hit your tongue, you knew it was a mistake. was it the wine itself, or the flood of memories that came rushing back — of nights you'd rather forget, when alcohol was more of a crutch than a choice?

your stomach turned violently, the nausea creeping up your throat until you couldn't hold it in. before you knew it, you were dry heaving, the sound breaking through the music and laughter in the room. then, you lost it. you puked, right there in front of everyone — the guests, the business partners, the employees, all staring in shock.

"sugu, i–" you tried to say, but the words were caught in your throat as you bent over, heaving again.

"shit, y/n, hold on," suguru rushed to your side, worry etched all over his face as he gently gripped your shoulders, guiding you away from the crowd. "breathe, okay? just breathe."

uraume, always quick on their feet, swiftly called in a medic who had been on standby, just in case. “i’ve alerted the medic,” they said calmly, though their eyes betrayed the concern they felt seeing you like this.

but sukuna? he stood there, silent. frozen. for the first time in a long while, he didn't know what to feel. frustration, maybe? anger? embarrassment? or was it something else entirely — something closer to concern, though he’d never admit it, even to himself.

"fuck," sukuna muttered under his breath, the scowl on his face deepening as he watched the scene unfold. why the hell did she even drink that? part of him was annoyed, but there was a tug, something gnawing at him that he couldn't quite place. maybe it was the realization that seeing you like this affected him more than it should.

suguru glanced up at sukuna, his expression hard, almost daring him to say something. “you gonna stand there, or help?” he spat, one arm still supporting you as you struggled to get your bearings.

sukuna’s jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he turned and walked away from the scene, his fists clenched. "fuck this."

everyone seemed more interested in sukuna’s abrupt departure than the fact that you had just puked. the whispers and gossip quickly shifted from your heaving to the sight of ryomen sukuna walking out of the party without a word. sure, it wasn’t uncommon for people to get a little sick during the holidays — too much food, too much wine — but for sukuna to just up and leave while his business partner was clearly unwell? that was unheard of.

“did you see him just walk out? what the hell’s his problem?”

“seriously? with y/n being sick? kinda heartless.”

you could hear the murmurs from the washroom as you splashed cold water onto your face, trying to steady yourself. was it the wine? the memories? you weren’t sure anymore. your throat still burned, the taste of bile lingering as you rinsed your mouth. but it wasn’t just the physical reaction that made your chest tighten — it was everything else. why now? why here?

yuuji stood by the door, fidgeting awkwardly, his usual energy subdued. “you okay? need any more help?” he asked softly, his voice full of genuine concern. “i brought some mints if you want,” he added, pulling a small tin from his pocket, as if that could make things any better.

“thanks, yuuji,” you mumbled, forcing a small smile despite the situation. the sweetness in his gesture almost brought a tear to your eye.

suguru, on the other hand, was more serious, standing next to you as you dabbed a towel to your lips. “i knew this was a bad idea. should’ve pulled you out earlier,” he muttered under his breath, his hand hovering near your back, ready to steady you if you faltered again. “screw sukuna for making things worse.”

you shook your head, trying to dismiss the weight of it all. “it’s not his fault. i mean... i should’ve known better than to drink that.”

suguru’s expression darkened slightly at your words. “don’t defend him, y/n. he walked out like a dick while you’re here puking your guts out. that’s all i need to know.”

outside the washroom, uraume stood with quiet composure, offering their silent support. they didn’t say anything, but you knew. they couldn’t show outright sympathy — not with their loyalty to sukuna so visibly on display. but their presence alone was reassuring, as if they were silently letting you know that you weren’t alone in this.

“uraume...you don’t have to wait outside, you know,” you called out, your voice a little shaky.

“i know,” they replied evenly, their tone cool yet gentle. “but i’ll remain here, just in case.” their respect for boundaries was evident, but it didn’t make their support any less felt.

you let out a long, shaky breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. your eyes were red-rimmed, but whether that was from the nausea or the emotional weight, you couldn’t tell. the memories tied to that damn wine were coming back, thick and heavy, clouding your thoughts.

why did it feel like this partnership was costing you more than you ever anticipated?

“this isn’t just about tonight,” you finally admitted aloud, though it was more to yourself than anyone else. suguru caught the shift in your tone, a flicker of worry crossing his face.

“what do you mean?” suguru asked, frowning.

you shook your head. “nothing... it’s just... all of this. it’s taking more of a toll on me than i thought.”

“then maybe it’s time to pull back,” suguru suggested, his voice steady but protective. “you don’t have to keep pushing yourself for this partnership. not if it’s dragging you down.”

you wiped at the corner of your eye, the unshed tears barely noticeable. “i don’t know if i can afford to pull back.”

suguru reached for your hand, his touch warm against your cold fingers. “then we’ll figure it out. together.”

with a small nod, you let out another deep breath, grateful for the support of the people who stayed, even while sukuna — and your past — walked out of the room.

sukuna sat at his desk, shoulders tense as he glared at the numbers flashing across his computer screen. he wasn’t reading them — hadn’t been for a while now. the only thing running through his mind was the scene from earlier, of you heaving in front of everyone at that damn christmas party. it left a bad taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t seem to wash away. and it wasn't just the wine or the party.

he heard the quiet creak of his office door opening but didn’t turn. he knew it was uraume before they even spoke.

“how’s she?” he asked, his voice blunt, the edge of irritation barely masked. he didn’t look up from the screen, but his mind had already drifted far from his work.

“she’s alright,” uraume said, tone calm despite their own weariness. “your brother and her partner were there for her.”

sukuna grunted. he was relieved but didn’t say it. the fact that you had been taken care of wasn’t the issue — it was the nagging frustration gnawing at him. he wasn’t sure what to call it. anger? guilt? neither of those felt right. his brow furrowed deeper, fingers tapping impatiently on the desk as uraume lingered in the doorway.

they stood silently for a moment before finally daring to speak, stepping into the lion’s den with a quiet firmness. “you know, walking out like that…” uraume started, carefully choosing their words. “it wasn’t your best decision.”

sukuna’s eyes flicked up at that, narrowing slightly. “the fuck are you getting at?” his voice was sharp, a bite in his tone that dared them to continue. uraume had always been one of the few who could speak openly to him, but even they knew the risks of poking at the king of curses when he was in a mood.

“she was sick. and you left.” uraume crossed their arms, unshaken by sukuna’s glare. “it’s not just about appearances. it’s about how you handled the situation. or didn’t handle it.”

sukuna’s jaw clenched. "she’s not my fucking problem, alright? i don’t owe her anything," he snapped, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “i’m not her babysitter. she got too into the wine, and it’s not my job to stand around coddling her like some fuckin’ weakling.”

uraume’s gaze didn’t waver. “it wasn’t about babysitting her. it was about showing you gave a damn. even if you don’t owe her anything, she’s still your business partner for the time being.”

sukuna scoffed, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. “don’t lecture me about giving a damn, uraume. i’ve done enough, and i’m not gonna sit around and play nice just because she puked at a party.”

but uraume wasn’t done. they stepped closer, their calm demeanor unshaken by sukuna’s rising frustration. “you’re not stupid. you know that partnership took more out of her than you think. her past with you, everything… it’s all coming back to haunt her. you walking away just made it worse.”

sukuna’s fist slammed onto the desk, the loud bang echoing through the room. “what the hell do you expect me to do? pat her on the back and tell her it’s all sunshine and rainbows? fuck that. she knew what she was getting into.”

uraume remained calm. “maybe she did, but you didn’t have to make it harder for her.”

sukuna’s eyes darkened, tension crackling in the air. “don’t tell me how to handle my shit. i’ve got enough to deal with without worrying about her.” he was almost growling now, but uraume held their ground, unflinching.

“you may not need to worry about her,” uraume said quietly, “but that doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to hurt her. you left for a reason tonight. you felt something, even if you won’t admit it.”

sukuna stared at them, his lips pulled into a scowl, but he said nothing. the silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension. he hated that uraume was right, even if he wouldn’t admit it. he had felt something. a pang of discomfort, maybe even guilt. watching you like that had stirred something inside him, and that feeling had only made him angrier.

he didn’t know how to process it, so he had walked away.

with a sigh, uraume took a step back, sensing that pushing further would only provoke him more. “think about it, ryomen,” they said softly before turning to leave.

as the door closed behind them, sukuna sank back into his chair, his mind racing. he hated feeling like this — like there was something clawing at him from the inside, something he couldn’t control. and the worst part? it was all because of you.

he scowled, running a hand through his hair. "fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. you had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t sure what pissed him off more — your presence or the fact that he cared enough to notice.

hi lovelies <3 taglist is still open, please have your age displayed in your bio to be added. this will gradually deal with darker themes, and i wish everyone to be of age (AKA 18+) before adding them. thank you for understanding! let me know how you liked this chapter (: if you don't have your age in your bio and you still ask to be added, i'll just ignore your request. please read the above! produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

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hurts2think · 3 months ago

Note

Hi I'm sorry you probably have a lot of requests but could you make a Chloe Charming X Fem Reader where Reader is the daughter of Sleeping Beauty and Chloe catches her in a like near death situation and kisses her and Reader wakes up. Thank you! Your work is so gooddddd

⚔️Chloe Charming x Reader⚔️

Reader pronouns: She/her

Pairing: Chloe Charming x Fem!reader

Plot: You're the daughter of Sleeping Beauty. Your parents left town and you were alone. Until your knight in shining armor came to keep you company. But who knew she'd also be there to save you from a witch who wants to steal the throne.

Word count: 2.4k

Extra: Ahhh this was such a cute idea I had to pause everything just to do it! I spent way much more time and effort on this one. Tried to make it all pretty 💙 hope you love it

Extra pt 2: No proof read sorrryyy

The castle was dark today. In Aurora's kingdom it was always bright and beautiful. But not today.

The clouds came in quickly, leaving no room for the setting sun to glow and shimmer off the sparkling marble floors of the hall.

Looking out the large glass windows, you were only met with the dark clouds in the sky and the sound of a storm slowly rolling in.

But you only smiled out the windows and at the face of the gloomy sky. How could you not? Every natural thing and event had beauty to it, even a harsh storm that was headed your way.

You smiled because you knew that even when the storm consumed you, there will always be the light that shines in the eye of the storm. The calmness and beautiful part of it. The part that reminds you to love what the earth gives you. Whether the earth and sea threatened to be one, or if the flowers wrapped around the world to keep it warm. It was all beautiful.

And surely, the night will always lead to a sky of blue...

----

The Aurora family was very high and prestigious. You were the younger of the family. Audrey was your older sister with her whole life planned at birth. She was to be the queen of Auradon and set your lives securely. But as it turns out, your family didn't have many plans for you. Which you felt that you should be grateful you didn't have the same expectations as your sister who would be queen one day. Whether it was of your specific kingdom or all of Auradon.

But you also wished that your parents would expect something from you instead of forgetting about you all together. But you managed.

Up until a year ago you had no friends. You were royalty so of course people feigned smiles and light conversation, but friends were never something you knew too well in your life. Your sister was the closest thing you had to friend, but once she went off to college, you felt alone and abandoned. But then the knight in shining armor rescued you.

A beautiful girl with blue curls down her shoulders and a sword at her hip. A princess with no fear and only determination behind her eyes. The girl that saved you.

Chloe Charming, a knight and princess in one. And just as the name implies, you were charmed the moment you met her. The light the shone off of her. Even in the gorgeous world you've never seen something as beautiful as Chloe.

Your sister and her brother dated for a very brief period of time but you had never actually met Chloe until you got to AP.

"So! You going to the tourney game tonight?" Chloe came up behind you at your desk with a big smile.

"Oh, is that tonight? My parents are leaving the kingdom on a trip for a bit so they want me to go see them before they leave." You explained with a soft sigh.

Chloe looked disappointed but she didn't frown, "Aw, that's okay. There's always next time." She slid a chair over to sit next to you, "Are you staying there for the whole weekend?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

You loved every way she moved and her curls bounced and the adorable expressions she always gave. "Probably... But I'll be back in the dorms on Monday." You explained with a soft smile.

You really didn't want to stay the whole weekend, but you just figured it would be easier instead of making the same trip twice in one day. So in the end you'd rather just stay.

"Well... Maybe I can ask my mom if I can visit you in that time so you're not by yourself?" Chloe suggested.

You chuckle and nod, "Definitely ask. I'll have the guards and servants and stuff, but they don't really talk to me..." You say with a deep sigh.

But Chloe's smile made you smile. It almost always did. It was cliché but you always felt that she could light up an entire room.

-----

Your parents left quickly after your dinner with them. You kissed them goodbye and then they were gone. And then it was quiet. And then you were alone.

But you only spent one night alone. One night by yourself before the next day rouse with beaming colors of blue. It was a perfect day. No one could predict the storm coming in.

As you were prepared and readied for the day, you decided to go on a walk before Chloe came over. Just to clear your head and prepare yourself mentally for the rest of the day.

You hurried down the never ending marbled stairs with your shoes clicking against them in small steps. You approached the grand doors and pulled the open, almost rushing out. But before you could take that step, there was a woman.

A tall older woman. She was old but beautiful. She stared at you for a moment with a small smile, "Hello, Dear. I was hired as a new maid." She calmly explained.

Your parents didn't tell you about any new maid, but it's not something they usually kept you infromed on, so it didn't come off as odd to you. "Oh! Hello, welcome. I'm the daughter of the king and queen." You introduce yourself with a polite smile. The smile you had to practice in the mirror before any royal event you attended.

The woman's eyes widened slight, "Oh my. My deepest apologies. Your highness." She said with a bow, clearly not recognizing your royal status at first glance. Though you didn't blame her. You were dressed quite casual.

A bashful smile spread on your face at the formality, "Don't worry about it. I was just about to go out on a stroll. The other maids must be upstairs. They'll show you the ropes." You say, moving aside to let the lady in.

"Of course. Thank you, your highness." She stepped inside, "Be cautious on your stroll. There's a storm coming." She said, walking away into the castle. Every step she took was calculated and she stood tall. Almost like she could be royalty herself.

Though her comment confused you. You looked outside and didn't see a cloud in sight. But, you hadn't checked the news for weather... There was a possibility. You shrugged to yourself and left the castle.

-----

Your stroll was as refreshing as you'd hoped it be. A walk through the garden was what you always needed.

The colorful and scented flowers, the green trees, and the birds singing.

You hum to yourself and gracefully skip around as you enjoyed the sun. The warm sun against your skin brought you to life.

But your stroll had to eventually come to an end when the soft sound of your phone alarm started playing. You looked at the time and realized Chloe was about to arrive.

You rushed back to the castle and as you approached, you saw the blue haired girl step out of a carriage.

“Chloe!” You yelled out, rushing over to her.

She turned her head and smiled brightly when she saw you, “Hi! How are you?” She asked, taking you into a short hug as you ran up to her.

“I’m quite fine. How was your trip?” You asked before pulling away from the hug.

“It was great. It’s so beautiful over here.” Chloe said, admiring the surroundings that were filled with beautifully large trees and bushes filled with berries and flowers.

The driver of the carriage handed Chloe her bag and the two of you locked arms.

“I’m glad you’re here. I would hate to be stuck by myself the whole weekend.” You said as you led her to the doors of the castle.

“I couldn’t just leave you by yourself! You’ll need someone to keep you company and keep safe.” She playfully winked.

You smiled as your face heated up slightly. You two walked inside and brought her up to your room.

You spoke and giggled and smiled for hours in your room. The day passed by you faster than you could imagine. Time felt slow when you were with Chloe yet everytime you were with her, the clock said otherwise.

“Oh! It’s late already. I’m sure dinner is almost prepared.” You said, looking up at the clock on your night stand.

Chloe smiled and nodded, “Let’s go down then. I’ll be right back in a minute though, I have to go to the bathroom.” Chloe said, popping up from where she sat and out of your room.

You stood up as she left. Just as you were about to leave yourself, the new maid walked in.

“Oh… hello. Is there anything you need?” You asked, surprised by her suddenly walking in.

She just smiled. But it felt much more creepy. You weren’t sure what it was, but suddenly the air felt heavy.

“Dear, I’m just the maid. You’re the princess. I should be asking you that.”

You felt tense and a little awkward, “Well, me and my friend are fine… we’re just about to go downstairs. I’m sure supper is just about prepared…” you informed.

But she just approached you and dread suddenly filled your body.

“Poor girl…” she said, slowly circling you like you were a rabbit that the lion was about to snatch up and eat, “After your parents, your sister will be queen… and you’ll be left with nothing…”

“What are you talking about…?” Your voice became weak.

“Once they hear their precious princess is in trouble, they’ll come rushing back home. Then they will be taken care of, of course. Then who will be the one to take the thrown for herself?” The lady’s grin no longer hid it’s malicious intent.

"If you do to Audrey, I'll —!"

"Shhh..." The woman placed two fingers on your forehead and your body suddenly stopped. You eyes widened and glowed a soft green, "Don't strain yourself, princess."

"Hey! Get away from her!" Suddenly Chloe ran in, standing confidently with her sword pointed at the woman.

The woman only cackled before disappearing into a cloud of black smoke.

Chloe coughed from the smoke suddenly filling her lungs, but once it cleared and she could see you, she rushed over.

Your body was weak and you collapsed into Chloe's strong arms.

"Are you okay? What did she do to you?" Chloe asked, her face filled with worry. She used her fingers to brush over the skin the woman touched on your face, making sure she didn't leave a mark.

You stumbled to stand back up straight while Chloe supported your weight, "I, I'm fine. I don't know what she did..." You explain, your voice still weak. The sky suddenly filled with dark clouds, the thunder harshly filled your ears.

"Don't worry. It'll be okay. I promise it'll be okay." She reassured, helping you stand.

But just as she did so, a huge pile of thorned vines sprouted from the ground between you two, effectively separating you.

Chloe was knocked off her feet as well as you.

"Chloe?!" You yelled through the wall of vines that now kept you sperated. The storm only grew harsher and louder outside.

Your eyes darted around, trying to see if there was a way to get out. But then your eyes laid onto something. Something that wasn't there before. Something that was never kept in the castle.

A wheel. A spindle.

The needle on the spindle glowed a bright green. You heard Chloe from the other side yelling your name. But it was like the moment you laid eyes on the needle, everything in your mind shut off.

Your legs started moving on their own, you couldn't move your eyes off the needle, and no matter how hard you tried, nothing came out of your mouth.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, Chloe yelled your name and desprately sliced at the thorns with her sword. She hit it with the blunt end with all of her strength.

She never stopped hitting and hitting it and cutting and slicing, and with one final blow of her foot, she kicked through it.

Her hands pulled it apart and made a small opening. She rushed in and saw your unconvinced body on the floor. She gasped but just before she could step closer to you, something suddenly flew at her.

A creature of sorts that resembled a vine. Reflexively, she blocked the sudden attack with her sword.

Chloe grunted as she stumbled back. Then she swung her sword at the creature. The creature was fast and dashed around her in every way. But she never stopped fighting and making sure she'd keep you safe.

The creature finally landed a hit on her, throwing her against the wall. Chloe groaned in pain. But before she could even get up, the creature darted at her again. But this time she grabbed the dresser that was against the wall and used her strength to push it, effectively crushing and trapping the creature underneath it.

Before she could catch her breath or even celebrate her win, she ran to you. She fell to her knees and pulled you into her arms. "No no no..." She said to herself, looking at your unconscious face.

Her eyes started to fill with tears. How could she have left you by yourself? How could she let that witch get away? She felt it was all her fault.

A tear fell down her face and she cried. She never told you how she felt about you, she never got to hold your hands, she never got to spend her life with you, and most importantly, she felt that she betrayed you. She cried and leaned down to your face. She set a soft kiss on your lips. A light kiss that felt as soft as a pillow.

As her lips met yours, suddenly a burst of light surrounded you two. All of the vines swiveled away and the monster disappeared.

She pulled away and your eyes suddenly fluttered open, "Chloe...?"

Chloe's eyes widened as she gasped, "What happened?"

Without a word, she suddenly pulled you into the tightest hug you've ever received.

"Oh my gosh. You're okay. I'm so happy you're okay." After a very long moment she pulled away, her cheeks stained with tears.

"You saved me..."

"I told you I always would." She smiled, suddenly drawing you into another kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise but you quickly melted into it, cupping her cheek with your hand. Chloe's hands held you by the waist as you kissed.

It was a long and soft.

The storm seized and the sun shone through the window onto you.

The two of you held against the lighting and the thunder, turning to a sky of blue. And it was beautiful.

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Text

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Monday)

Summary | Day One of your trip to the lake house with Joel and you can't keep your hands off each other. It's all about making up for lost time.

Warnings | Fluff, 2(3?) lovesick fools, mentions of food and alcohol, explicit smut, breeding kink, oral sex (F & M Receiving), unprotected PiV sex (We can't all have a sexy Joel Miller to make us pregnant, please wrap it up), talk of UTI's (Honestly, not worth it, PEE AFTER SEX PLEASE), as always, Tommy kinda getting cucked and Joel just being Joel.

Word Count | 5.1K

Authors Note | The love that this series has received already, without me even posting a chapter has been overwhelming and I am so grateful to you all for being so enthusiastic about this. This little trio means more to me than you can ever imagine and I'm so incredibly happy to be able to bring them back to you. I would love to know what you think about this first instalment, so please leave your comments, reblogs and my ask box is always open if you want to scream about this with me. If you enjoyed this then please consider leaving me a tip on my Ko-Fi here.

SEASON TWO OF TRIAL & ERROR. Read the first instalment here (This probably won't make sense without it.)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You press a kiss to Joshua’s forehead as he keeps his hands around Tommy’s leg. He’s four now, toddling about, like a perfect little human, and still, whenever you see him, your chest swells with happiness and love in a way you didn’t think would still be possible.

“You be good for daddy, okay?” You smile, ruffling the hair on top of his head, before bending down to his height, opening your arms for him to fall into as he hugs you, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, and I’ll call every day.”

A whole week away from your baby boy was daunting. You don’t think you’ve ever spent longer than twenty-four hours without him, but you know he’s in good hands. His dad knows what he’s doing, you’re not worried.

Tommy has picked Joshua up into his arms, the little boy clutching onto the collar of his shirt as he leans down to lock his lips with yours. You smile into his kiss, letting your hands drop to his waist to pull him a little closer to you.

“You make sure you give the old man a run for his money, okay?” He smirks when he pulls away, hand running over your hair.

“He’ll wish he hadn’t come up with idea.” You whisper back, one last chaste kiss to Tommy’s lips and Joshua’s head.

“You ready?” Joel asks from across the truck, sliding into the driver’s side.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Joel is nervous. He very rarely feels like this in his older age, especially when it comes to speaking to Tommy. They’ve grown up together, he basically helped raise him, had countless awkward conversations with him, including the one that got him here in the first place, waiting patiently for his birthday so he can steal away his girl and have one night with her all to himself, but he’s still nervous.

It's the end of summer, Sarah will be leaving for college in the next few days, dead set on becoming a doctor, so Joel’s decided the only way to celebrate his little girl going off and doing what neither he nor his brother could do, and to ease the impending loneliness he’s going to feel at having this big house all to himself, is a cookout. He’s fed everyone, spent time keeping Joshua amused so you and Tommy can eat in peace, and now, a few beers in, he thinks he’s ready.

He walks down to Tommy, who is cleaning the grill off, listening to the sounds of you and Sarah chasing Joshua around his garden, trying to tire him out. He puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes and they share a smile between them.

“You alright, brother?” Tommy asks, brushing down the last of the grill.

“I’m good,” Joel replies simply, “But I have something to ask you, a favour.”

“Anythin’ for you brother.” He smiles, setting down his cleaning tools and picking up his beer.

“I know we never discussed it, between us, but what happens between me and her, it makes me happy, y’know?”

Tommy’s smile gets bigger, and Joel knows that because it’s all his brother has ever wanted for him, to be happy, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful for the man in front of him.

“I know second time around it’s takin’ longer than we’d all like,” Joel sighs, you’d all been trying for months for the second baby – people had told you second time around was easier, but whoever decided that was a damn liar, “I just wondered, y’know, ‘cause she’s stressed and all, whether I could take her away?”

“Take her away?” Tommy asks, eyebrow cocked with his lips on the bottle of beer.

“Not from you,” Joel stutters, “Just for a week, somewhere quiet, I don’t know, the lake or somethin’, just see if her relaxin’ might help things.”

“Where were you thinkin’?” Tommy asks.

“I’ve been lookin’ and there are some nice places up in Colorado,” He rubs the back of his neck, not wanting to admit to his brother that he’s trawled the internet late at night trying to find somewhere he can afford, that in his mind he has it all planned out, “Close enough that we can get back if anything happens with Josh.”

“I don’t know that she’ll get the time from work, Joel,” Tommy sighs, “It ain’t that I don’t want her to go, I know she’d love the time away, but she’s pressed.”

Joel turns around and follows Tommy’s eyeline, you’re sitting on the grass with your back against the veranda, watching as Sarah plays with Joshua a little further away. Your head is leant back against the wood and Joel can tell you’re exhausted. A full time job, plus being a mother, whilst Joel’s got Tommy working longer and longer hours so they can finally get their business off the ground properly.

“When was the last time she was anythin’ but a mother?” Joel asks, turning back to his brother, “Come on brother,” He pleads, “We can give her a break, give her the chance to be just her again,” Then he decides to sweeten the deal, “I’ll even give you the week off work.”

“You really don’t have to beg me Joel,” Tommy insists with a smile, “If she can get the time off work, then you can have her.”

You’re three hours into the drive. Joel has insisted he can make it in one go, with a few comfort breaks on the way, despite it being a twelve-hour drive, but you’re not going to argue with him. He’s well and truly in charge this week and you’re more than happy to relinquish control to him. It’s nice, having someone else worry about you, whether you’ve got enough snacks to keep you going, whether you need to stop to use the bathroom, whether you need to close your eyes and take a nap, as opposed to you worrying about doing that for your son.

Joel is tapping his hands on the steering wheel. Sarah had made him a mixtape before she left, supposedly full of the songs they used to listen to in the car together, though you can’t imagine Joel had allowed much Taylor Swift judging by how fast he was to press skip when the familiar sounds of Teardrops On My Guitar started playing through the truck. He’s just finished singing along to Bon Jovi, a smile on his face as he looks at you.

“I love your voice,” You smile, running your fingers lightly up the arm that is resting near you, his warm palm on your thigh as he drives, “It’s not too late y’know, to make it big with your guitar.”

He snorts but with a smile on his face, “I was never any good at bein’ on stage, always got choked up and froze,” He turns his head to you a little, “I’m happy to just save my singin’ for you.”

The CD he’s got playing skips to the next song and the sounds of Destiny’s Child’s Survivor start filling the car. Joel is already moving to press skip so you grip hold of his wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” You warn, “This is such a good song.”

“Sweetheart, come on, you don’t really wanna listen to it.”

You chuckle at him, “You’ve listened to everything you wanted, just give me this one song.”

“If I’m lettin’ you listen to this,” He growls, “Then you’re gonna owe me.”

“Is that right?” You play coy, “And what do you deem suitable payment for a single Destiny’s Child song?”

You watch his face, still trained straight ahead on the highway, but with that smirk that you always love to see from him. It means he’s thinking something filthy and filthy Joel is something you simply cannot get enough of. You watch as his eyes meet yours momentarily and then drop to his lap. If you hadn’t been so focused on his face, you’d have missed it, but your eyes trail down his body where you can already see him growing in his jeans.

You lean back in your seat, nodding to yourself, “Joel Miller, grown man, wants me to suck his cock whilst he drives, just like a horny teenager.”

He brings a hand to the back of your neck and squeezes, trying to gently drag you forward, “I’ve waited a fuckin’ year to have you to myself, pretty girl,” He speaks lowly, “Didn’t think I was gonna wait for a bed, did you?”

You chuckle but move to undo your seatbelt. He keeps his hand resting on the back of your neck, but it’s gentle. He doesn’t pull you towards him, just waits for you to set your own pace. You reach across the console of the truck with your hand, palming him through his jeans, reveling in the way his head tips back and he lets a long sigh fall from his lips.

“You missed me, huh?” You tease, bringing your fingers up to the button on his jeans, you should have known he had something planned when he turned up without his belt on.

“You seriously askin’ me if I missed you?” He asks as you pop the button and drag his zipper down slowly.

You lean over, lips pressing a chaste kiss to the scruff on his jaw, “Boost my ego, Joel Miller,” You whisper into his ear as your hand sneaks underneath the waistband of his underwear, “Tell me how much you missed me.”

He lifts his hips for you a little so you can shuck his jeans down just enough to pull his cock out. You lean over, Joel’s wide palm still resting at the nape of your neck as you fist him, running your hand up and down his length. If you were a stronger woman you’d tease him, but you’re as desperate for him as he is for you, so you bring your mouth right to him, swirling your tongue over his tip, lapping up the drops of pre-cum that are waiting for you.

Your wrap your lips around him and swallow him down as far as you can take him without him hitting the back of your throat, using your hand to pump the length your mouth doesn’t reach, swirling your tongue around him as you pull your mouth back up.

“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl,” Joel groans above you, hand tangling in your hair as you continue to bob your head up and down on him, “You’ve done this before.”

It strikes you in this moment that in the four or so years you and Joel have been together like this, he’s never once let you put your mouth on him like this. Before Joshua, he had always been hyper focused on your pleasure, whether you felt good, and in the years since, in those few short hours you had together, he’d never once asked for it, had stopped you when you tried, he’d only ever come for you when he was fucking you.

You sneak your hand lower, cupping his heavy balls in the palm of your hand as you take him further down your throat. The added sensation of your hand has him bucking his hips up into your mouth enough that you have to pull away from him, coughing and spluttering.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He worries, taking his hand from your head, “Are you okay?”

“Focus on the road, Miller,” You demand, moving to get right back down to business, “If I choke to death on your cock that’s my business.”

“Kinda hard to focus on the road when I’m seconds away from filling your mouth, pretty girl.” You can hear the strain in his voice as you start working his cock again, pulling off only long enough to reply.

“That’s what I want,” You whisper, “You gonna come down my throat Joel?”

“That what you want?” He grunts from above you.

“Wanna taste you.”

“Well pretty girl, you just keep goin’ and I’ll give you what you want.”

He stays true to his word, and after a few short minutes, he’s gripping a fistful of your hair, breathing your name out, as his cum spreads across your tongue. Salty, masculine, musky, but distinctly Joel, and you think from this moment on you might be hooked on the taste of him.

You pull back up, sitting back in your seat, Joel turning his head to watch you as you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out just enough to show him what he’s given you. Then, you close your mouth and swallow every last drop, wiping the small amount that had gathered in the corner of your lips back into your mouth.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, “You’re somethin’ else, baby.”

It’s late evening by the time you and Joel arrive at the lake house. It’s dark so you can’t properly take in your surroundings, but it’s peaceful and quiet, and when you step out of the truck, it smells different. The smell of pine and fresh water fills your senses and it’s at this moment you realise you really needed this – a break away from the suburbs and the city you’re so used to.

You make a simple dinner of chicken and roasted vegetables, washed down with lukewarm beer that hadn’t had a chance to properly chill. Joel insists on doing the dishes, silently cursing he didn’t pick a cabin with a dishwasher. The more time he has to spend washing up, the less time he can spend buried deep inside you, which is what he wants most right now. He’s hungrier for you than he’s ever been, you having refused his offer to pull off the highway so he could return the favour earlier.

You’ve taken two fresh beers from the fridge outside with you. He can see you sitting on the small swing seat on the porch, taking small sips of your drink as you wait for him. You’re on the phone to Tommy, letting him know you arrived safely and then he can hear your voice change as you speak to Joshua – more high-pitched than normal. The conversation doesn’t last long, Tommy clearly needing to put Joshua down to sleep, so you’re hanging up the phone in no time. He notices you shiver through the window, so he digs out one of his flannels from his bag that hasn’t made it to the bedroom and takes it out with him, draping it across your shoulders. He takes a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours, as you hand him his beer.

“I bet this view will be beautiful tomorrow.” You muse, taking another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know,” He speaks back softly, looking at you, “It’s pretty perfect to me already.”

You can feel your face grow hot at the compliment, but you smile. Joel drapes his arm across the back of the bench, and you automatically shuffle in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand trails up and down your arm.

“So, how have you really been in that house without Sarah these past few weeks?” You ask, hand coming to rest on his thigh.

“It’s been strange,” He answers honestly, “But I’m so proud of her, my little girl training to be a doctor.”

Your heart swells because you’re pretty fucking proud of her as well. She’d worked so hard to get into medical school the past few years, finally settling on what it was that she wanted to do, and you have no doubt that she’s going to find some incredible medical breakthrough during her career.

“Still don’t know where she got her brains from,” He grumbles, “Sure as hell ain’t from the side me and Tommy got ours.”

You swat your hand to his thigh, “What have I told you about being kind to yourself?” You chastise, earning a low laugh from him, “Don’t sell yourself short, you started your own business Joel, not everyone can do that.”

He nods, but you think it’s more to placate you than understanding his worth, but you decide to let it lie, “You know, she’s not far from here,” You offer, “If you wanted, you could go and see her.”

“I’d like that,” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll call her tomorrow, gonna have to think of a white lie as to why I’m all the way out here though.”

“I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something.”

It’s silent for a while between you. Listening to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees is soothing. Pair that with Joel’s gentle tracing up and down your arm, and the way he’s slowly rocking the swing with his foot on the ground, and you’re almost ready to fall asleep.

“Hey Joel,” You whisper, leaning your head up towards him, he answers with a hum of acknowledgement, “You wanna take me to bed?”

He leans down, pressing his lips softly to your own, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You stand, extending your hand to his, which he takes, letting you lead him back inside. Because he’s used to it, the routine of checking the locks at home, he makes sure he double checks all the doors are locked before letting you take hold of his hand again and lead him down the small hallway, into the master bedroom at the end.

The bed is huge, white sheets resting on top, with plump pillows at the end. If it wasn’t for Joel’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck, you’d be focused on falling into it and going straight to sleep. He’s walking you forward, trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck, then he turns you once your knees hit the foot of the bed.

He brings his palms to your face, cradling it in his hands as he leans down, pressing those soft, plush lips to your own. You bring your arms to wrap around his shoulders, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush to his broad frame as he opens his mouth, tongue licking into your own mouth as he deepens your kiss. It’s the first time he’s kissed you since last year, both of you having some form of silent agreement with each other that Tommy doesn’t need to see that. He see’s everything else you do when you’re together, when he’s watching his brother fill you up, this here, when Joel kisses the very breath from your lungs, this is just for the two of you.

With his mouth still latched to yours, he uses his hands to push his flannel from your shoulders, before he reaches down and tugs your own shirt from where it was tucked into your jeans. He takes his time, unbuttoning it one notch at a time, until that too is pushed from your shoulders. You don’t even realise he’s undone the button on your jeans until he’s pushing them down your hips – too focused on the way his mouth tastes.

“Sit down, pretty girl,” He whispers, dropping to his knees, “Been drivin’ me wild all day,” His hands trail up your legs, parting them in front of his face when you perch on the edge of the bed, “Thinkin’ about you all wet down here, after you sucked my cock.”

He runs his thumb over the front of your panties, tracing the seam of your pussy, which has indeed been completely soaked for him since you sucked him off. He presses his mouth, wet and hot, against the delicate skin of your thigh as you let your head drop back and a sigh to escape your mouth. His mouth comes to rest between the crook of your thigh, where the seam of your underwear is, and you think he might just pull them to the side and give you what you want, but instead, he starts a trail of kisses from the opposite knee, moving slowly up your other thigh until you’re squirming for him.

“Don’t tease me,” You beg, running a hand through the curls on his head, “Make me feel good, Joel.”

“This what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them off you when you lift yourself off the bed a little, “Want my mouth here?”

His thumb runs up the seam of your pussy, the friction without the barrier of your panties delicious now. You spread your legs for him, heels resting on the bottom of the bed, baring your spread, aching cunt for him. His palms are resting on the inner part of your thighs now as he leans in, lips pressing a single chaste kiss to your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe out, chasing the feel of his lips as he pulls away, you almost whine until you feel him push one of his delightfully thick fingers straight into your weeping pussy, “Fuck Joel, holy shit.”

He’s grinning up at you like the devil when you look down, pulling his finger out all the way before slipping it into his mouth to clean it off, “You been this wet all day?” He asks, thumb moving to gather the slick at your entrance to drag to your clit, moving in featherlight movements.

“Y-yes,” You manage to choke out, “This is what you do to me.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he puts his face right back where you want it, tongue licking a firm, wide strip from your weeping hole and up to your clit, using the tip of his tongue to place precise flicks on your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s so fucking good with his mouth it actually hurts. He’s managed to learn exactly how you like it, what combination of moves with his mouth and the addition of his fingers bring you over the edge the fastest and that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. He slips two of his fingers back inside you, curling them straight up into that spot within you that makes you cry, lips sucking your clit into his mouth whilst his tongue still moves perfectly across you.

“God fucking damn it, Joel,” You cry, fingers tugging at his hair as you push your pussy closer to his face, “Gonna make me come.”

He doesn’t bother to pull his mouth away from you to tell you it’s okay like he usually does, just continues the movements just as they are until your crying his name out, the rope that was pulled taught inside you snapping as your pussy clenches around Joel’s fingers and you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment.

You collapse down onto the bed, arms no longer able to hold you up as Joel takes his mouth from your clit, gently pulling his fingers from you. Without needing to be asked, you scoot up the bed, letting air fill your lungs. Your eyes are trained on Joel as he starts to undress in front of you, smirking at you when he drags his shirt over his head.

“You should charge people for this,” You mumble, “Sure a lot of ladies would pay good money to watch you strip.”

“Like this?” He chuckles, slowly undoing the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down painfully slow as you start humming, encouraging him to really put on a show, “Zip it.” He laughs, pushing his jeans down his legs, his cock hard and pressing against the thin material of his boxers.

He shucks them off his body as well and you watch, captivated as he fists his cock, he is, next to his brother, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel Miller,” You breathe out as he clambers onto the bed, pulling you up slightly so he can take your bra off, “Do you know that?”

His mouth is pressing kisses between your breasts, letting his teeth nibble small marks across your chest before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. You can feel his cock pressing between your folds, running up and down your pussy as he settles properly between your thighs. You run your hand through his hair as he trails his lips up to your face, peppering your jaw with kisses.

“Can’t say I’ve been told much,” He whispers into your ear, “But I’ll take it.”

You can feel him reach between you, base of his cock in his hand as he brings the tip to your slick cunt. He thrusts forward just a touch, giving you the tip, lips settling onto your own so he can swallow the small moans you let out as he inches deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out. You shift your hips underneath him, legs hitching around his waist.

“Baby please,” He pleads, “You gotta give me a second,” His head dropping to the crook of your neck, “Fuck, how does it always feel like I’m fucking you for the first time?”

You want to give him all the time in the world but you’re just as bad as he is. He needs to move, and he needs to move now otherwise you think you might actually die.

“Please Joel,” You moan, rolling your hips up into his, hand still firmly tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, “You need to move.”

“I ain’t gonna last, babygirl.” He groans as he pulls himself out and slams back into you.

“Don’t care,” You moan as his lips attach themselves to your throat, “Just need to feel you.”

He moves, placing his hands on either side of your head, pushing himself up, as he drags his cock from your tight heat and starts thrusting properly. You’ve had this man more times than you can count, two or three times a month for the past six months whilst you try for your second baby, but the way he feels inside of you never fails to set your body on fire.

He’s always so big, and you feel so fucking full of him. You close your eyes and tilt your head back further into the mattress as he drives himself deeper into you, head of his cock brushing against your cervix. It’s pain and pleasure, it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He makes you stupid when he fucks you like this. Focused on one thing, and one thing only.

One of his hands clutches your chin, his voice hoarse with pleasure, “Look at me,” He demands, “Give me those beautiful eyes when I fuck you.”

You do as you’re told, eyes opening and staring into his own chocolate orbs that are dark with lust. God, you love him. You know you shouldn’t love him this much, it’s dangerous, but he’s so fucking good to you, you can’t help yourself.

“Good girl,” He praises, making your pussy clench around him, “Doin’ what you’re told, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

“So good Joel,” You moan, fingers gripping the meat of his biceps as you hold onto him, hips rolling up to meet his with every thrust, “Want you to come for me.”

“Yeah, want me to fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Yes Joel!” You cry, “Fill me up baby, please.”

His hips start to falter from their precise thrusts of before, he’s so fucking close, you can see it on his face, hear it in his growls. He dips his head back to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping along your collarbones as he pounds into you. He lets out one long moan of your name as he stills inside you, and you can feel the familiar warmth of his cum filling you up. He brings one of his hands down to cup your ass, lifting you up a little, as if he thinks the angle of your pelvis makes much of a difference when it comes to getting you pregnant.

He groans into your neck as he slips out of you, letting your hips finally drop to the bed as he rolls off you, collapsing in a heap beside you as he catches his breath. You lean over, kiss pressed to his cheek with a mumble that you’ll be back in a minute once you’ve cleaned up, the pain of last month’s UTI still fresh in your mind after you fell asleep without going to the bathroom.

When you return, two glasses of water in hand, he’s already pulled back the sheets and has settled himself back against the pillows. You hand him his glass, setting yours on the nightstand as you climb into bed, settling your aching bones against your own pillow when you realise this is uncharted territory with you and Joel. When you spend your one night with him, neither of you sleep – you spend as much time as you can connected, making each other feel good, and when he’s with you outside of that, with Tommy watching, or joining in, whichever he feels like doing that night, he’s always gone in a flash. You’ve never settled down to sleep next to him, you don’t know if he snores, you don’t know if he wants you to cuddle into his side and drift off to sleep together.

“Stop thinkin’,” He sighs, “And c’mere.”

You smile, crawling over the space between you as he moves his body down to lie flat on his back. You drape one of your arms over his tummy as his wraps around your shoulder, the other resting on your arm wrapped around him. You bring your leg up to wrap between his and let out a sigh.

“You have no idea how much I’ve always wanted this,” He whispers quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Somethin’ so simple as fallin’ asleep with you.”

You hum against his warm skin, letting the thumb that’s resting on his tummy start rubbing small circles on his skin, “It’s nice,” You speak, punctuating it with a yawn, “Hope you don’t snore though.”

His chest rising with a chuckle as he pulls you tighter to his body, “Go to sleep, babygirl,” He speaks quietly, “I’m gonna wear you out tomorrow.”

You don’t know whether he’s referring to the hike he wanted to take you on through the mountains, or the fact that you both know what you’re really here for. Is he going to keep you right here on this mattress all day, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore? Either way, being here with Joel has already been the ointment you needed for your stress. Your shoulders are more relaxed, and you don’t have the headache you usually do at the end of the day from gritting your teeth. Whatever he’s got planned, you’re going to take it, and for now, you’re going to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that this time, though longer than you ever get, is still fleeting. You can worry about that another day.

Taglist: @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @kaitangatatacos @paleidiot

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so I was thinking of a blurb with Mapi and Ingrid where reader takes a nap everyday after training or a game but she’s forced to go to team bonding at Alexias place by Mapi and Ingrid and is grumpy since she can’t take her nap and everyone is like what’s up with her when they see the grumpy look on her face and Mapi’s just like ‘oh she didn’t take her nap’ so the whole time reader is falling asleep on the couch either on someone’s shoulder or lap but she can’t because of the noise and when everyone’s finally gone and it’s just them and Alexia she finally falls asleep on Ingrid’s lap

as someone who absolutely thrives off naps, this was felt team bonding II m.león & i.engen

you could have said it was partially your fault, and maybe you would have had the situation been any different. however today you were much less willing to accept any sort of blame, rather pointing the finger at anyone and everyone else.

it had started as you'd all come back into the change rooms after a particularly brutal training session, the sun glaring down on you the entire time had meant your normally tanned and sun kissed skin was mildly burnt and coated with a thin sheen of sweat.

the first session of the day hitting the gym wasn't as bad, the team partially sheltered from the sweltering heat of the barcelona sun. thursdays were always a double session given it was the middle of the week and friday was a rest day, so the second session was of course out on the pitch and it would have been understated to say you struggled.

you'd lived in spain now for nearly three years however born and raised in dreary drizzly england had meant it had been nothing short of a huge adjustment to get used to the change in lifestyle, weather and climate.

especially when it came to running around, training and playing matches on days that sometimes peaked well above thirty degrees, you were often grateful for the drop in temperature when blessed with late afternoon and early evening games.

growing up you'd never been someone who could sit still, always itching to be running around, keeping your hands busy or kicking some sort of sports ball. you'd played almost every sport you could growing up, both of your siblings the same.

you'd felt sorry for your mother, a single mum trying to wrangle three incredibly active kids and dash them from school to practice and home with three different schedules. you would always be grateful to her, and to your grandparents who basically drove you every afternoon to some sort of extra curricular.

football had been what had stuck through the ages, your sister sticking with tennis and your brother abandoning everything to pursue law, though he played a friendly five a side with his colleagues of a monday night.

however despite your insanely high energy levels, work ethic and stamina, all of that exerted force had meant you'd crashed hard and very rarely had a healthy or consistent sleep schedule throughout your youth.

this had meant some days the best rest you got was naps. wether it be a quick twenty minute power nap on the way from school to football or a three hour doze on the sofa of a sunday afternoon after you'd played, you became incredibly dependent on the brief moments of rest and bliss that came with them.

so skipping ahead to present days, that hadn't changed. despite your professional career meaning you should have a consistent, healthy and reliable sleeping pattern, the majority of your rest and recharge came from your naps.

despite consistent scalding from the training staff about the importance of a solid eight hour minimum rest, most nights you were lucky if you slept five to six hours, which of course everyone reminded was due to the frequent naps you took throughout the day.

however old habits die hard and it wasn't anything that you felt affected your playing ability, so who was it really harming? or at least that was the case, most days.

today was no exception, if anything after such a tiresome day of running about in the heat you were extra exhausted and looked forward to nothing more than returning home. the safe little haven you'd created with your girlfriends would greet you with its sun soaked little loveseat you'd often curl up in to get a quick thirty minute power nap in.

or the end of your ever so cozy L shaped couch where you'd stretch out for a longer doze, often with your head in ingrids lap as she read a book and mapi would play video games beside you, headphones on as to not disturb you, both your girlfriends well equipped to your routine.

early on in the relationship they'd of course tried their hand to coax you into a much more stable sleeping routine. but rapidly learning all it would lead to was a night of you tossing and turning and fidgeting in between them, the constant movement and small huffs of frustration in turn keeping them awake as well, they quickly gave up on that battle.

but back to the locker room you'd busied yourself quickly showering and changing, too busied with your head in the clouds to overhear the team making plans for a bonding night at alexia's house. tomorrow being a rest day meant it was perfect to do something tonight, and had you tuned in and overheard you might have had some more time to plan.

however buried deep in your own thoughts and quickly sinking further and further into your bodies screaming demands for a nap you'd zoned out entirely. you'd snapped back to it at a jingle of keys by your ear, glancing up to find mapi staring down at you with an amused smile.

you were quick to your feet, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, waving your goodbyes as the three of you headed out of the building down to the carpark.

again you zoned out, head a fuzzy mess and skin still crawling from the thick humidity which plagued the air around you. had you been paying attention you might have overheard ingrid and frido or patri and pina behind you, all discussing who was needing to take what to alexia's.

mapi sliding into the drivers seat you kissed ingrids cheek in appreciation as she offered you the front, dumping your bags in the boot and settling into the warm leather you grimaced slightly but sighed, glad to at least finally be off your feet.

you smiled for a few photos as fans hung by the front gate, all keening to get pictures with their favourite players, though all three of you exhausted from the heat you kept it brief. finally on the road and heading home you joined into the initial conversation, though quickly found your eyes growing heavy.

"hey bebita no, we're almost home." mapi chuckled, hand moving to gently squeeze your thigh to stop you dozing off. both her and ingrid were more than capable of carrying your sleeping form inside as had been done plenty of times before, though exhausted from training if it was something that could be avoided then they would do their best to do so.

you busied yourself discussing training with the two of them, as well as the upcoming game against athletico on the weekend. your mother was coming to visit for a few days and you spent time going over what she wanted to do and see while she was here, the three of you grabbing your bags finally home.

in the elevator up to your shared apartment your struggle increased, eyes heavy once again as your head fell to mapi's shoulder, leaning a little more into her body making her smile and kiss the side of your head affectionately.

you heard her ask you something in spanish but half asleep you only hummed, agreeing to whatever she'd said as the doors opened on your floor. ingrid unlocking your front door you stumbled inside, scowling at the blonde haired spaniard beside you who'd stuck her foot out to trip you.

ingrid scolding her in norweigein you threw your bag at her and she chuckled, moving to put them away. you squatted down to fondly rub bagheera's head, picking him up and making a beeline for the sofa, your usual spot calling your name as you sighed grateful for the air con blasting around the apartment.

"siesta time handsome." you mumbled, collapsing tiredly onto the sofa and moving a cushion behind your head, bagheera curling up on your stomach. you sighed contendly, one hand stroking his warm fur as your eyes slammed shut and you started to drift off.

though your brief slumber was halted by something poking at your cheek. "go away!" you huffed, cracking one eye open to see mapi stretched out on the other end of the sofa, poking you with her toe as you shoved her legs away.

"what are you doing elskling?" once again you began to drift until a new voice spoke up, now opening both eyes you looked up to see a pair of green orbs looking down at you curiously.

"what does it look like i'm doing?" you mumbled back tiredly, flinching as the older girl pinched your leg for the comment. "takin a nap." you sighed, eyes closing again as you felt bagheera's weight move off of you, jumping to instead settle in between mapi's tattooed legs which still stretched along the sofa.

"why? we need to get ready to go to alexia's." at that your eyes shot wide open and a frown knitted deep into your eyebrows, pushing yourself up to rest on your elbows.

"why are we going to ale's?" you questioned, confused at the odd break in your usual post training routine. "see amor i told you she was not listening." mapi tutted, shaking her head at you as you shot her a tired glare.

"did you not hear anything we spoke about after training? or in the car? or in the elevator?" ingrid questioned, an annoyed frown settling into her features as she folded her arms and stared pointedly down at you. "no i did not. i'm tired and i need a nap." you grumbled, annoyance growing the longer you were forced to stay awake.

with that you rolled over onto your side, back showing to the tall norweigein who scoffed. "hey! wakey wakey." mapi's feet dug into your back as she cooed at you, shaking your body as you inhaled deeply.

a string of spanish curses dropping from your lips you turned and smacked her legs, a little harder than intended before getting to your feet, thumping off to the bedroom ignoring their calls after you.

"nope!" you groaned loudly as arms wrapped around your torso before you could throw back the covers and slip into bed. "i'm tired." you whined, head leaning back onto mapi's shoulder, pouting up at your girlfriend who smiled in amusement.

"too bad, we have team bonding cariño and we promised we'd go, all of us." mapi tilted your head back a little further, hand gently gripping your chin as she placed a somewhat apologetic kiss to your lips, thumb running over your bottom lip as she pulled away.

"i'm not going. suddenly im sick!" you fake coughed pushing away from her, feeling another pair of eyes burn into you as you flopped backwards onto the bed, covering your face with your hands.

"you are going. get up and changed!" you peeked through your fingers to see ingrid staring firmly down at you, mapi whisting knowingly and ducking out of the room not wanting to get involved.

"no." you replied just as firmly, face still buried in your hands. "you are twenty four stop acting like a child. get up, now." her tone shifted into one you knew all too well, and looking up the fire which simmered just behind her eyes you knew you had about two minutes to do as she asked or you'd pay for it later.

"can i nap for a half hour baby, please?" you switched approach, hands moving to fall at your sides as you looked up pleadingly, her features softening a little but her arms remained crossed.

"no kjære , we need to be there in an hour and it's a twenty minute drive."

at her words you groaned even louder than before, hauling your body up and storming off to the bathroom, making a point to slam the door after you. "pain in the ass every day." ingrid mumbled under her breath with a roll of her eyes.

"no amor you asked for that, you know how she gets when she's tired." mapi held her hands up in defense at the withering look shot at her, backing out of the room again mumbling under her breath in spanish, all too used to mediating between the two of you knowing just how stubborn you could both be when in disagreement over something.

"come on niña bonita, smile. stop being grumpy!" you shifted at mapi's words, the slightly taller girl hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek a few times.

"we'll stay for a few hours and then you can go home and sleep, okay?" ingrid spoke softly, running a hand through your hair as you sighed tiredly but nodded none the less as mapi pressed the buzzer. within seconds the door was opening and you winced at the sudden change of volume, most of the girls seemingly already having arrived.

"ay chica why do you look so down hm?" alexia smiled, bringing you into a hug as she closed the door, the older girl like a sister to you as you sighed and grumbled about being tired.

"you sleep more than a newborn amiga, how are you always so tired?" her body vibrated with laughed as she kissed your cheek teasingly and let you go. "she does not sleep, like a vampire!" patri teased pulling a face at you as pina joined in and you rolled your eyes pushing past them, ignoring their offended calls after you that you'd blanked their hug.

you made a beeline to collapse next to lucy, head immediately falling to your national teammates shoulder. "oh did the little baby not get its nap?" she cooed harshly pinching your cheeks, having known you for years she immediately recognized the signs of exhaustion present in your features.

"no!" you huffed, pushing her hands off as she grinned. "tough luck kid, hard life being an adult." she sighed, patting your cheek and moving so her arm stretched over the back of you and you could settle a little more into her side as mapi took the vacant seat next to you.

normally if you were curled into anyone elses sides both her and ingrid would be green with envy, but lucy having had a heavy hand in the three of you even getting together in the first place they knew she was just as fiercely protective of you as they were.

you felt your girlfriends tattooed hand rest on your leg, fingers tracing shapes absentmindedly on your thigh as she engaged in conversation with the team.

you remained quiet as an hour dragged by and alexia tried her best to organise a food delivery, struggling heavily to decipher orders as no one seemed to be able to answer her without speaking over the top of someone else.

you jolted up awake as alexia snapped, captain mode slipping in effortlessly as she shouted a loud and stern string of catalan, everyone pausing before quietly relaying their preferences one by one.

food ordered everyones focus switched to games, an assortment of different board and card games from all different nations littering the floor. you opted out of playing, shooting poor esmee a murderous look as she attempted to drag you to your feet to be her partner.

"england why are you so moody today?" you looked up to meet oshoala's amused grin as mapi stood from beside her to help alexia get the food delivery from downstairs, the warmth of her hand on your leg instantly missed.

"baby didn't get its nap!" you grunted as two bodies landed on top of you, patri wrangling you into a headlock as claudia sat on your chest, both girls poking and jabbing at you.

something not uncommon for the three of you, known to rough house around quite often given your close ages but today you were not in the mood. you swore and cursed at them in spanish, a few of the older girls in the room shooting you disapproving looks for your language as the games continued.

"i would leave her be unless you want to lose a finger patri, she is a biter." mapi warned with a suggestive grin, returning as most of the girls hurried to their feet at the promise of food. claudia gagged at the insinuation and punched you halfheartedly in the stomach, scurrying away as patri was quick to follow before you could retaliate.

"i want to go home." you huffed, sitting up and running a hand through your tousled hair, fixing your clothes with a glare over the spaniards shoulder at the culprits who were too busy stuffing their faces to care.

"well we aren't." mapi chuckled, hands on your knees as she leant down and moved in closer. "if you're a good girl bebita i promise to reward you when we do get home, in any way you want." the older girl murmured in your ear, teeth gently tugging on your earlobe leaving your cheeks flushed red.

"any way?" you clarified as the defender nodded with a smile. "but only if you behave and lighten up a little, we are here to bond with the team." your girlfriend warned as you nodded.

"otherwise i will just let ingrid have her way with you for the snappy comments earlier, and we both know she does not forget hermosa." mapi smiled knowingly as you sighed, your girlfriend leaning in and pecking your lips a few times until they curled into a smile.

speaking of, ingrid took lucys seat beside you, placing a plate of food in your lap as mapi disappeared to get her own, the rest of the girls settling themselves around the living room as chatter and laughter filled the air.

the taller girl smiled in surprise as you thanked her in norweigen, leaning up to kiss her softly before starting to eat. "don't need to be hand fed do we grumpy?" keira teased, gesturing for your girlfriend to feed you as you flipped her off, ingrid knocking your hand down as your english team mate grinned and took a seat on the floor beside aitana.

mapi settling in on your other side with her own food you tried to make more of an effort, not contributing much to conversation but actively listening. you grinned as you stole some of your girlfriends food, mapi flicking your ear affectionately before kissing your cheek, happy to see you were a little more engaged.

food finished and games back in commencement you found yourself still wedged between your girlfriends, your legs draped over mapi's lap as ingrid held you from behind, chin resting atop your head.

slowly as the night grew later the girls began to drop off, and as the chatter and laughter died down your exhaustion was quick to resurface, blinking drowsily as you tried to stay awake.

but eventually you could fight no more and sleep won, your body suddenly becoming a lot more heavy which didn't go unnoticed by your girlfriends. the last of your team mates leaving alexia returned to the living room to see ingrid hoist your dead asleep form into her lap properly, scoffing with an amused shake of her head.

alexia's girlfriend olga due home from work soon and you seemingly passed out cold your girlfriends agreed to stay and watch a movie, grateful both for your lack of complaining and that you were finally getting some much needed rest.

"you know we are going to get home and she will be wide awake again now, yes?" mapi sighed with a smile, moving your hair out of your face and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "i'm counting on that." ingrid smiled though a little less sweetly as mapi caught on, knowing smirk curling into her lips as alexia shot to her feet hearing a knock at the door.

"well, i did promise her a reward." "you're too soft with her." "i am not, you are just too bossy." "neither of you seem to mind that." "you do not give us a choice amor." "is that so? well maybe i need to remind both of you-"

"too loud." you mumbled up tiredly, hands coming to rest over their mouths still half asleep, mapi pressing a kiss to your palm before they dropped limply back to your sides.

"well eskling, guess we'll see who is right when we get home then."

#mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso blurbs

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milkypompon · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 2 | Scrawled Nothingness

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

content: coffeeshops, fluff, flirting, angst (mentions of Marc's past)

wc: 2.1k

a/n: Thank you for all the love in the first chapter! I'm so happy summer's started, so I'll have more time to write out more chapters AND get to the fun and silly asks you sent me!! My inbox is always open for unhinged thoughts and requests. Enjoy!

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

–

Marc shows up at Coffee for Two at 11:59 p.m. on the dot every Monday night.

Not a Monday morning when people showed up in slacks or pencil skirts for a shot of espresso. And certainly, not a Friday night when teenagers line up for a tooth-achingly sweet drink they found the recipe for online.

Besides, he likes his coffee black.

The closing shift was clockwork at this point after helping your Nan for years — prop the chairs snug against the table, wipe the floors, and cheekily bag up a couple of pastries for the next day’s breakfast.

Your eyes flick over at the clock nearly striking midnight, as you lean the broom against the edge of the countertop.

Marc should’ve been here by now, shoulders pulled back and head tilted down, ready to sweep the to-go cup and splash stick.

You remember that he typically parked a white limo… Maybe he chauffeured for a party, hence the break in the weekly conversation. If you could even call it that. It was more like an exchange of stolen glances and nods before parting again.

The logical part of you yearns to walk back to the apartment sooner than you planned and plop down face-first onto the couch. But a nagging twinge irked you to stay a little longer to see if he’d stroll in as usual.

You could already imagine his face if he saw the sign flipped to close, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout, and a crease between his brows.

You laugh to yourself at the image of Melodramatic Marc instead of Moody Marc then ultimately deciding to give in to the latter. Maybe you’d curse yourself out when you have to wake up in a couple of hours to prepare the croissants for the next day, but you wanted to take your chances right now.

Rounding the corner of the counters, you duck your head under the cabinets and look for the roast you wanted him to try and the materials you need for a pour-over.

You place the paper filter onto the dripper then unfurl the bag of coffee beans and toss just the right amount into the grinder. The crushing hum and toasted smell of the grounds was a welcome change after a day of listening to grating ice and spurting whipped cream. With a kettle in hand and the setup complete, you gently trickle the water into circles, watching the grounds set in and coffee drip down the other end.

You grab a white cup, soon covered with drawings of stars and sparkles, reminiscent of the few you could see from the window. The moon outshined them all, full and on display without a cloud in sight.

You pour the coffee into the well-dressed it (scrawled with Marc’s name in the annoyingly very pink Sharpie) and notch the lid.

Checking the time again, you realize it’s well past midnight.

Maybe it’s time to go home, but you didn’t have the heart to toss the drink away. You take a sip, the liquid barely touches your tongue before you hiss at the bitterness.

How does Marc drink this?

No sugar, no milk.

You drizzle in a couple of pumps and squirts of your preferred add-ons, vowing to yourself to never take it purely the way he does. Drink and purse in one hand, you turn the sign to “closed” and twist the lock with the other.

Hermano, just check if the place for your coffee fix is open. It won’t hurt, Jake rolls his eyes.

Marc mutters, “No, we don’t need another pitstop after the shit Khonshu just dragged us through.”

Maybe they’ll still have those biscuits I like to eat with the tea! Steven's heart flutters at the thought of eating a couple of the raspberry linzer heart cookies.

He concedes. “Fine, but the moment I see the closed sign we’re going straight home. I didn’t ask to be in charge of snack runs, ya know?”

A unison of hurrahs echoes in his headspace, he can’t help but smile. In the whirlwind of events of carrying himself in a country that reminded him of crumbled relationships and even faultier progressions of moving on, the desire to find a place where he belonged was something he hated to admit.

Marc was good at playing the part of blending in for missions. Tugging on a disarming smirk to draw out intel from loose-lipped drunkards at the bar came naturally. As easily as turning on the charm while bargaining at the market for the first edition books Steven claimed was what he’d been searching for his whole life (Oh my days, I need those for my collection!). Or, yet another pair of leather gloves for Jake (Those are fingerless and the straps look cool).

But stripped of bells and whistles created by answering to every whim of humans and gods alike, Marc was just… him.

Steven had his apartment filled with knickknacks and collectibles.

Jake had his car housing his armaments and gadgets.

What did he have?

Marc frowns at the thought as he leaps across the rooftops, the moonlight catching the arc of the cape.

A cot in the storage unit and a fuck ton of baggage that couldn’t fit in his duffel bag.

But maybe Coffee for Two could be his.

As he leaps down behind the shop, his ceremonial suit unravels, tucking in on itself to reveal his black shirt and jeans. Surely, it’d be closed by now, but he still wanted to check.

Marc turns the corner and sees a sign written in big, loopy letters.

closed let's have "coffee for two" tomorrow

He sighs. “Told ya, who in their right mind would’ve kept open for one customer.”

A gust of wind ruffles his hair, Khonshu’s presence stronger than usual.

“Alright I get it, you damn bird! I get that we have another mission–”

A post-it flutters onto his shoe. He bends over and holds it under the streetlamp.

If you’re Marc, keep reading. if you’re not Marc, why are you still reading this?

I think you can keep reading.

“Jake, shut up.”

I drank your black coffee. Don’t know how you drink this. It tastes like battery acid.

Steven laughs out the last two words. Think this sweet ol’ message made up for you looking so miffed, mate! She’s right about it though. I oughtta steep her a good cuppa.

“Hey, it keeps us awake! Your hot leaf juice makes our piss smell like flowers and does nothing else.”

Marc carefully tucks the paper into his jacket pocket.

–

A week after Marc’s absence, he walks in and you greet him with a tired smile as if there was no time lost in between.

“Black?”

He cocks his head up and grins. “Yes, miss.”

That’s new, you note.

“Got any of those uh, berry cookie thingies?” He makes two “Cs” with his hands and connects them, forming a crudely shaped heart.

Your eyebrow quirks up and the air is quiet with stillness before laughter bubbles up in your chest, pointing to what he was referring to. “Oh! The Linzer cookies!”

Marc flashes his teeth. “Mhm, a couple of those with the coffee.”

“I’m a little surprised you liked them. Did the sweetness grow on you?”

“Not for me, actually.”

“Did you want a second drink to pair with it?”

He replies cooly, “Nah, nothing like that. Just, for my brother.”

You give a noncommittal hum and turn your back to him, looking for a box to place the cookies in.

Marc chuckles, the corner of his lips curling. “Woah, don’t come pouncing at me all at once.”

“I just meant to mention that we have a promotion of buy two get the second drink half off for your partner.” You smile to yourself, the view obscured from him. “That’s why it’s called Coffee for Two after all.”

“Mm, right.”

Quietness blankets the pair as you assemble his orders.

He couldn’t recall the last time his headspace wasn’t buzzing with chatter without gut-wrenching aid, a bandaid haphazardly stuck on. Drowning out the noise wasn’t necessarily the problem, it was finding a way to keep a constant peace of mind. At the very least, keep it at bay. The past year was saturated with blackouts and memory gaps, the swirling gold whiskey dipped him into a hazy state. It wasn’t his favorite way to keep the quiet, but it did the job.

Every twist of the cap dragged him back to what was soon to come.

Every whiff of the liquid reminded him how her hot breath, seething with disdain, warmed his cheek.

And the heat he felt after chugging it was reminiscent of how she would hit the other, turning his head to the side.

The soft shifting of the pen on paper brought him back.

“See? Told you I give good service.” You slide the decorated coffee cup and a box of cookies in front of him with a smile.

Marc thumbs over his name, a little surprised you spelled it with a "c" instead of a "k", along with the twisting designs. “Nuh-uh. Think you forgot something again.”

“I worked hard on that masterpiece!” You frown, feigning annoyance. “You should be asking for my autograph.”

“I should be asking for your number.”

You don’t reply for a beat. “Well, are you going to?”

He smirks, pausing to mimic your surprise before saying, “Can you write down your number?”

You nibble your bottom lip, failing to hide your giddiness.

He reaches over to pluck the alarmingly pink Sharpie from the pot and hands it to you. “Think that godawful marker was made from toxic waste. Nothing in the natural world could create that color.”

You scrawl your number on it, careful not to spill the coffee. “Well that ‘godawful marker’ gave you an opportunity to claim that promo.”

“Can I use it now?”

“Not until you call me.”

Marc chuckles and picks up his order. “Well, I’ll be sure to do that.”

“See you when I see you. Monday at midnight again?”

“Or sooner.” His eyes flit over to your hand, knuckles white from the grip on your apron.

“Uh, not sooner. I’m closing for the week. There’s a couple of things I need to sort out… for the shop.”

Marc nods, not bothering to push the matter further. “I have a funny feeling you waited for me to come before you closed.”

You smile, the tension eases from your body.

–

Marc wakes up from the early sun rays filtering between the cracks of the curtain. He grumbles, Jake always forgets to pull it close before going to bed. He knew that if he stood up to fix it, his body would betray him and lose the cottony sleep he felt. With a groan, he flops over to his side, but before his eyes flutter close he catches an unfamiliar cup standing on his nightstand.

He doesn’t remember buying it yesterday and god forbid anybody forces Steven to drink anything quote battery acid unquote.

He picks it up, he notices the drawings… and a set of numbers.

So, it must be–

Marc flings the blanket off of him and stalks to the fish tank.

“Jake! I know you’re there!”

Gus peers at him curiously and releases little bubbles.

“I’m gonna slash your tires if you don’t come out!”

Jake stares back at him and raises his hands in surrender. Ay, you and I both know you wouldn’t do that. My driving gigs are one of the few ways we stay afloat these days.

Marc buries his fingers in his unruly curls. “It was mine!”

What was yours?

“Going to that place!”

I don’t get it–

“Of course you wouldn’t!” Marc bristles. “Couldn’t I just have this one thing without one of you weaseling your dick into my life?”

Hermano, look, I was just trying to help. We thought it was about time you make a friend... or something.

"And you didn't bother asking me first?"

“Oh and remind if I'm remembering this wrong, the last time you set up Steven was when you asked out his coworker to the steakhouse! He’s a vegetarian for god’s sake!”

Don’t get your panties in a twist.

Can we all just calm the “ef” out? Steven appears on the kettle’s reflection. Take a time-out or whatever you Americans say.

Marc fights the urge to raise his voice again in an attempt to dispel the ringing in his ears. If the pair tried to explain the situation, they’d be in for another scolding.

He opens his mouth before they can. “We can’t do this right now.”

Don’t speak for all of us, pendejo.

He fists the cup, it crumbles in on itself and tosses it into the bin.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

Taglist: Open (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!)

@rachelsnows @basicalyrandom @cleothegoldfish @batsycline69 @lonelyisamyw-0love

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #moon knight fic

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iamthatonefangirl · 4 months ago

Text

unrequited - harvey specter

now that i'm getting back into the hang of writing hopefully my work quality will improve from whatever this is

send fic ideas!!! all the love on my recent harvey posts is what's keeping me going

also i can only write angst because i am still desperately crushing on my coworker oops

~~~

Your relationship with Harvey was like a ticking time bomb.

You knew that you couldn’t keep this up forever; your feelings for him were too intense. They kept you awake at night, and they kept you from being able to date other men you knew you could like if not for him. Your feelings boiled up inside you day in and day out, and you were forced to suppress them. Harvey Specter was not the relationship type.

You loved him too deeply to think the feelings would just go away one day. No, you would have to cut them off at the source. And that meant leaving not only your firm, but also the city in which you had built your connections, your career, your entire life. All to get away from the one thing you wanted so badly it was beginning to destroy the rest of your life.

He had so easily turned into the main character of your story; it was time to reclaim your position as the protagonist. But that meant outcasting him for good.

When you first started at Pearson Specter, now Specter Litt, you were one of the few associates who Harvey had ever chosen to work directly with him. Years of watching and picking up on how he operated allowed you to grow to your full potential as an attorney at the firm, and for that, you couldn't be more grateful. Which is why even though you no longer worked very closely with him, having been promoted to junior partner, you knew he would be upset to hear your news of departure.

You didn’t want to think about how you would eventually have to quit returning his calls and effectively ghost him to get on with your life.

You expected him to ask what you wanted in return for staying at the firm, and when you would turn down the offer, he would lash out at you. You would leave the office and wouldn’t hear from him again until he called you a month later to check in. This was how it always went with him; it wouldn’t be any different this time around.

Monday morning came around eventually, no matter how much you willed it wouldn’t. Stepping into his office, you were rightfully nervous to broach the topic. “Harvey, do you have a minute?”

He glanced up at you from his desk before replying, “Do any of us around here have a spare minute?” You chuckled at his response and shut the door behind you.

“I’m serious.” He shut his laptop and turned to you. You sat down in front of his desk, hands fidgeting and eyes darting back and forth between him and the files on his desk.

“I’m here to give you my official notice.”

The half-smile he wore when you first walked in shattered. It pained you to see, but you steeled yourself. You knew what to expect next; you just had to grit your teeth and bare through the conversation.

“I’ve been working on finishing up my recent cases over the last few weeks, and so I’m giving you my two-week’s. I’ve already spoken to some of the other partners who have agreed to take over my cases going forward, and I’ll be giving notice to my clients this week.”

He didn’t say anything at all. Now that was uncharacteristic of him.

He soon gathered his thoughts. He averted his eyes as he told you, “No need. I’ll waive your non-compete. You can take your clients with you to wherever you’re going.” He shifted his gaze back to you. “Just answer me this, what did they offer you?”

You didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean?”

He had that serious look on his face, the one he always sported when he realized he was caught in a bind. “The firm you’re leaving me for. What did they offer you to get you to leave?”

“Harvey, they didn’t– I’m not–”

“Senior partner? A higher salary? Because all of those things can be arranged for here, you know that. Just say the word.”

He may have been upset, but he could not possibly have understood how difficult this was for you. His words the firm you’re leaving me for couldn’t have been more true, you were leaving him; no matter how you tried to tell him, you reminded yourself he couldn’t know that.

You paused a moment to exhale before telling him the truth.

“I’m not leaving to go to another firm, you don’t need to waive my non-compete.”

His lips parted ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going home, Harvey. I’m leaving for San Francisco.”

~~~

He had no idea what you were talking about. Home? How hadn’t this city become your home? This firm? Him?

You rendered him temporarily speechless. He tried to offer you more and more incentive to stay, but you refused.

“I’ll double your salary. I’ll give you a bigger bonus than you’ve ever seen in your life.” You declined. “I’ll promote you. You can be elected a senior partner within the week, and I’ll pay your buy-in fee.”

Why was he trying so hard to get you to stay?

No matter how enticing the offers he made you might have been, you had one goal in mind: protecting your peace. Protecting your future from a man who would continue to take more and more parts of you until you were nothing apart from him. You had to leave before you couldn’t find your way back without him.

“Harvey, I’m leaving, That’s final.” You stood and began for the door.

“How dare you?” You heard from behind you.

Suddenly angered, you turned back to him, “Excuse me?”

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re leaving, just like that. You’re going to drop everything just for some nostalgic memory of where you grew up?”

“How dare you! Don’t you speak to me that way, Harvey. You have no idea why it is that I’m leaving!” You yelled back at him, finger pointing in his face.

“So tell me!”

“You want the truth, Harvey? I’m in love with you. And I will never escape you any other way. So forget my two week’s notice. I’ll handle all my affairs from home. You’ll have my letter of resignation within the hour.”

With what little dignity you felt you had left, you walked out of the room with your head held high.

~~~

He had no idea, obviously. Of course he felt a connection to you; he trained you, taught you how the world of corporate law worked.

How long had you felt that way? Is there something he could’ve done to avoid this whole situation? His most promising junior partner was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was his own fault entirely.

He was determined to get the chance to apologize when you came back with your resignation letter. He would straighten out the situation, explain that you could still work there. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Of course, he got called away from his office for a period of time. The letter was there when he returned, and his hopes of keeping you were gone.

~~~

You knew that in the books, the idea of people saying things in the heat of the moment were common occurrences. You didn’t think it could ever happen to you in real life, though. You intended for him to never discover this truth you hid from him. It was simpler that way.

But of course, you were wrong, and it all came out before you had a chance to bite your tongue. Now you had to clean out your desk quickly and say your goodbyes quietly.

~~~

Three months later, you were settling into your new position. Since you anticipated spending another two weeks in New York, you had a whole month between your resignation and the time you were expected to start in California.

You were finally starting to live your life more for yourself. You thought about Harvey less and less each day, until you could go out and meet another man without feeling like you were cheating on him. Crazy how you never got to call him yours, but still felt disloyal whenever you tried to go out with someone else while you were still in New York.

Although you didn’t have the close relationship with your new supervisor that you had with Harvey, you felt welcomed and supported by your coworkers. You hated to admit that life was dull for a great number of weeks as you went through Harvey withdrawals, but it was true. Things were finally starting to get better until you got a knock on your door one day.

~~~

You’d blocked Harvey’s number on your phone for a great many number of reasons. You never expected him to just show up at your new place, though.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Can I come in?” You allowed it.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he pointed out to you, to which you replied, “I blocked you, Harvey. Why are you not in New York right now?”

“I needed to see you,” was his only response. And with just those five little words, all the work you’d done to get over him was erased. It allowed your mind to flood with ideas of him wanting you in any way other than professionally or platonically. Damn you, Harvey, you thought.

“For what?”

“I want you to come back.” Unhelpful answer.

“Why?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I want you to come back because I trained you, and you’re an asset to the firm that we’re losing out on.”

“So you’re only here for a return on your investment in me.”

As you said that to him, he realized he fucked up.

“Look, I didn’t mean–”

“Yes! You absolutely did! You show up here, out of nowhere, telling me that you need my skills to benefit the firm, not that you might just want me to come back. Not that maybe I myself am beneficial to the firm, or even that you just miss me! God, can you really not acknowledge what I told you the last time I saw you?”

He paused. “Look, I know what you said. Yet still, I came.”

“And what does that mean, exactly? That you’ve suddenly come to terms with it and realized that you love me too?”

He didn’t respond at all.

“I’m not coming back, Harvey. I need a life separate from you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

He shook his head in agreement. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be.” He turned towards the doorway and saw himself out as the tears started welling up in your eyes.

Those were the last words you heard from him for a very long time.

~~~

masterlist

#fem reader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #self indulgent #self insert #suits #suits tv #my writing #angst #sad ending

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fourmoony · 6 months ago

Note

James and reader having a lazy weekend!! They usually have pretty active weekends due to errands and seeing friends, but this weekend has been made the LAZY WEEKEND! Lots of eepy cuddles in bed and on the couch, easy meals with yummy snacks, and movies on 24/7!! Cozy pajamas with only the softest blankets too teehee

I love this!! I need a lazy weekend with Jamie and I need it NOW! Thanks for requesting, sweetheart!!

cw: brief mention of sex, 800 words

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this level of content. It’s a peace that blankets your entire apartment, your entire body, right down to your muscles and bones. For the first time, you’re not thinking about the million errands that need to be run, the assignments that are piling high for various different classes, or birthday dinners, nights out with friends, sports games that you have to cheer at. Everything is quiet. Even the television, of which has been turned down to a significantly low volume, is quiet.

On a normal day, you’d feel like a slob. Almost an entire weekend on the couch, eating takeout and snacks, letting the dishes pile up, the washing basket overflow, and your phone go ignored would usually have your nerves on end. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when James has you tucked into his chest, a leg nestled between yours, and his hands rubbing incessant circles on the skin of your hip. You’re both lying facing the television, watching what’s probably your fifth movie of the day.

Every morsel of your being feels calm. You're grateful for your life, especially so that you get to live it with James and your friends. But there's always something happening, always some event or dinner and you really do enjoy them, enjoy spending time with the people you love, but it's nice, for once, to just be lazy. It's nice to lay on the couch and watch movie after movie and eat shitty takeout with your boyfriend.

You're sure the noise of your chaotic lives will resume first thing on Monday morning. But it's Sunday afternoon and you're floating on the high of your boyfriend's lazy touches and a weekend spent doing nothing.

"I wish we did this more often." James mumbles into your shoulder, as though he's been reading the very thoughts running through your mind.

His voice is laced with lethargy, a lazy husk that would make you kiss him silly if you weren't so comfortable. You sigh wistfully in agreement. The calm and quiet of it all is great, but even more so, you love just being close to James. You love the quality time and the lazy cuddles, the slow sex and the feeling of him constantly surrounding you. "Me too. Our lives are too hectic." You agree.

James grumbles a laugh and the feeling of his chest rumbling against your back makes you smile. "You'd rather be a social recluse?" Your boyfriend teases.

His pointer finger and thumb pinch the skin of your hip playfully. You roll your eyes at his teasing. "No," You deny, rather petulantly, "It's just... we're always doing something. I'd like a couple days a month where we can just exist. You know?"

He hums thoughtfully, thumb smoothing over his pinch mark. "I'm sure if we try we can make that happen, baby."

Your muscles protest when you turn in his grasp, chest to chest, until you're looking up into his stupidly beautiful eyes. James' eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. How bright they were, how when he smiled, they lit up like fairy lights strung across the most perfect landscape. They never fail to steal the breath from you, a melted honey-hazel colour you wish you could bottle up and sell, if only to make yourself a millionaire so you and James would never have to work, again, so you could spend all day every day snuggled on the couch, watching shitty Channel Five movies.

His eyes steal the breath from your lungs, now. James looks at you with such gentleness, such love, that your chest constricts and you feel that overwhelming, all consuming sense of love that only he has ever made you feel. "Really?" You ask, ghost of a smile on your lips.

It makes James smile wide, your evident happiness to his suggestion. He's so giving, so caring. Sometimes, the amount of love you have for him feels like it might swallow you whole, crush you into a thousand tiny pieces.

"Really. We'll find time. 'Cause it matters." His words are final.

You hum happily, push your face as far into James' sleep shirt clad chest as it will go. His arms tighten around you, warmth and the familiar scent of him encompassing your very being. Right now, this moment here, you never want to leave it.

"I love you." You tell him, and the words don't feel enough. They don't feel like justification for the way you feel about James Potter. They never will.

James' lips are soft and warm as they find the skin of your forehead, a reassuring kiss left there that you think means James gets it, and he feels the same. "To the moon and the stars."

"And all the way back?"

James huffs a laugh, arms squeezing even tighter. "And all the way back."

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beeslibrarycorner · 6 months ago

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HELLO,,, I DESPERATELY NEED SOME FLUFFY PREWAR COOP BEIN SICK WITH SOME FLU 😭😭😭 his love is just insisting he stays home so she can take care of him 💝She feels his forehead and hes got a temperature, its obvious hes feeling like garbage but he insists on working. She calls his doctor, comes to look at him and he's told to stay at home, lay in front of the TV with some good food. cuddling ensues and she dotes on him cus HE DESERVES IT 💞 messy bedhead cooper with jammies and blankets FLUFF 🥺

Janey was at her mother’s house when Cooper had started to feel under the weather. It’s was Monday night and you were noticing that cooper was not acting like himself. His face was flushed and he was very lethargic.

“Coop? Are you feeling ok honey?” You asked as you watched him drink some water from your seat on the couch. As he walked closer you got a better look at him, his eyes were glassy and you could hear how stuffy his nose was.

Next day cooper was insistent that he was fine even though he looked like he had a fever (you were right) and that he sounded like his nose was full of mucus (you were also right)

You called the doctor and when the doctor came and checked him out, the doctor expressed all the things that you feared. Cooper had come down with the flu and was instructed to get acouple of days of rest.

You beamed and thanked the doctor, as you walked him out the doctor told you all the things to do to help cooper get better.

When you got back inside you put your hands on your hips as you watched the man that was curled up in the small love seat. “It’s freezing in here honey can you turn the heat up?” He asked and you frowned.

“Honey it’s like 80 degrees out, let’s get you into something more comfortable” you said leading cooper to the bedroom. You helped him into some pajamas and set him up on the couch in front of the tv.

While he was preoccupied with the tv after he took the first round of meds you started making soup for him. You checked on him and he had fallen asleep mouth slightly open and snoring softly.

When the soup just needed to cook you checked on cooper again, this time he was awake and he was reaching for you. “Can you sit with me for a second sweetheart, I miss your warmth” he pleads like he’s going to die if you don’t sit with him.

As you sit down cooper inches closer so that he could lay his head on your lap. “How are you feeling honey?” You asking him and he groaned in reply, you pouted and started playing with his hair.

Some movie was playing in the background, but all you could focus on was coop and how tired he looked. You stayed there until you needed to turn the stove off and put the soup in bowls.

When you placed the bowls down on the table cooper was already there. You ate together and after he thanked you for making him the soup.

After you got the kitchen cleaned up you like to cooper who was still at the table, looking out of it and in need of a good nights sleep.“Let’s get you to bed cowboy” you said and he chuckles smirking up at you.

You both brushed your teeth together and tucked him into bed, shushing him when you pulled away telling him you needed a shower. You went to take a shower, got into some pjs; and slid into your side of the bed.

Cooper immediately moved to your side holding you close and nuzzling his head into your shoulder. You rubbed his back and cradled his head to your chest. “Thank you for taking care of me sweetie, I’m so grateful to have someone like you in my life.”

The two of you fell asleep together, little does the both of you know that your getting the flu next after cooper gets better.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout

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writersblockedx · 2 years ago

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Crashing

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - It just so happens that girl's night is taking place at Y/n and Spencer's favourite restaurant. Warnings - None, I don't think! Words - 1.2K

Masterlist

Spencer wassn't one to be cocky. He wasn't one to show off to those around him. He also adored the idea of privacy. Something which was difficult with his nosy co-workers who craved every speckle of his current life activities. So, somehow, somewhere along the lines, his new girlfriend had slipped through their attention.

Derek had made a quick jab at some of the marks which painted his neck, but he never asked many questions other than mocking the young boy. So you had been kept a secret. Something of which Spencer was silently grateful for. As much as he would adore for you to meet Garcia and the rest of the team, to have something so tranquil separated from the violence and chaos which encompassed his work was nice. And he strived to keep it that way for as long as possible.

A weekend following a tough case had been in need of time together. Something of which had involved a fancy restaurant, an even fancier dress, two chairs facing each other, plates of expensive food and captivating conversation. "And then, of course, the printer had to break." You had huffed, in the middle of a very mundane story that the FBI agent across from you probably couldn't relate to.

Specner was about to let out a chuckle, his drink hovering over his lips when such a tranquil atmosphere had become bombarded. "Spencer?" A squeaky voice called, excitement written in their tone.

The boy tensed. He could barely glance to you before he turned in his chair, spotting Garcia as she rushed over from the bar side of the restaurant. Of course, he recalled, girl's date. They had been getting ready for it all week...only they failed to mention they were going to be drinking at Y/n and Spencer's favourite restaurant. And now any idea of privacy and keeping such a solace situation away from his other life seemed impossible.

"Garcia," He pushed out a smile that came off just as awkward as he felt. "Hi."

Her eyes were straight over to the girl sitting across from him. You were sat like a bunny in the lions den, a slight grin which was nothing compared to the smile that was shining across Garcia. "And who is this lovely girl?" The woman asked.

You leaned over, offering your hand for her to shake. "Y/n," You introduced. Garcia took it in a rush, an exaggerated shake following. "You must be Garcia," You glanced to Spencer and raised a brow, "Right?" You wanted to be certain. From the description Spencer had given you of all his team, the pretty, bright lady in front of you did best to fit it.

Spencer had given you a nod. And just as Garcia was about to open her mouth again, start to nag at you to find out who you in fact were to Spencer, the other two girls trailed along. In a similar fashion, they stopped, took a glance at the couple in the midst of a date and their eyes widened. "Oh," Slipped from Emily's lips first. At least you assumed it was Emily with her straight black hair.

You let out a breath like it were fresh air. "Hi," You sighed as if the tension around the group wasn't building.

Finally, Spencer stepped in. "Erm, this is Y/n," He looked between you and the girls who were all just as shocked as each other. "My girlfriend."

That had really left them stunned. They each could barely mumble words. At the time, a jumble of hi, nice to meet you, was said, ignoring the very thick tension which was suffocating the air around them. And so, just as quickly as they had crowded the table, they left. Their voices muttering and whispering, each asking if the other was aware. The three girls came to the quick conclusion that Spencer Reid had in fact been keeping this girlfriend of his a secret from them.

The Monday after followed the consequences of Spencer's actions. No one had said anything so far. For that he was partly grateful, but he assumed this was the calm before the storm. He assumed right. By the time he made it into the conference room, he knew he was in for it. He made sure he was the last in. And for the very first time, the whole team was sat around the table in silence.

Spencer didn't say anything at first. Rather, he wandered into his own seat, glancing at the file in front of him. Still, no one said anything.

The boy peered up, finding all eyes on him. A huff escaped his lips, "What?" He questioned, thinking maybe he could play this dumb.

Another moment of silence followed. One of which could only be broken by Penelope Garcia. "You have a girlfriend?" She was drooling in offensive, a sort of sense of betrayal that had evoked some sympathy from Spencer.

He looked over at the rest of the team who were just as eagerly waiting for an answer as Garcia was. "You weren't really meant to find out." He muttered, avoiding eye contact at any moment.

JJ leaned forward, her brows twisting, "You weren't going to tell us?" She scoffed.

Spencer seemed to only be able to shrug, "You never asked." And like that, he seemed to sink back into his seat.

Another awkward moment passed before Emily finally spoke up, "Well I say it's about time."

Spencer's head turned to her, "What?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"It's about time you finally get a girlfriend." She reiterated.

Morgan, who Spencer had been most anxious over, finally added into the conversation. "I thought it was a joke when Garcia told me."

"Hey!" The young boy snapped in response.

"What was her name again?" He questioned, ignoring the irritation laced in Spencer's tone.

"And what exactly does she do for a living?" Emily added.

Something which seemed to start a trend in the piling questions, "Do she live with you?" Garcia had said, sitting upright in a sudden excitement for him.

"How long have you even been together?" JJ asked.

And with the many questions, Spencer seemed to not even be able to answer one of them. Luckily for him, just as they had been asked, Rossi came to save him the stress. "How about we just be happy for the kid?" He suggested, leant back in his chair with one brow raised at the rest of the team.

That within itself had done well to shut them up. And, for the first time since Spencer had entered the room, Hotch finally spoke up. "Now, Garcia?" The woman tensed, expecting some comment about personal and work lives. "The case?" She relaxed - as had Spencer. The privacy of his own life would return to the backburner as the woman stood, ready to lead the meeting.

By the time she had started talking, everyone had long forgotten about the grilling they were giving him. And when Specner caught glance of Hotch, he gave the younger man a wink, silently telling him that it was okay. Maybe it hadn't been ideal, but suppose this was one way to introduce his co-workers to the girl in his life.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #imagine

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sugarsfics · 2 years ago

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“If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle”

Summary: Eddie invites you over for a movie night. Movie night is in his room. The only place to sit is his bed. His bed is small

Trope: Eddie x shy!reader; friends to lovers

Warning: use of y/n

30 day challenge: Day 7 Send Request <3

For the past hour Eddie has been running around the trailer making sure everything was perfect. Why? Because you are coming over, his crush is coming over. He has been crushing on you for a while. Every class he had with you he would find an excuse to talk to you, asking you for a pencil, piece of paper, answers, making a joke, anything to hear you talk or smile. That smile. The first time you smiled at him he was whipped, that smile made him smile, little did you know that when you turned to face the board you took his heart with you. You were very to yourself, only talking when spoken to, you had a small group of friends that he always saw you with. It took time but you eventually got comfortable with him, he was so grateful. P.E was one of your classes together before he sat on the bleachers alone looking at you, now you sit with him P.E became his favorite class. During that class he learned so much about you, this particular class you told him that you love the movie The Outsiders and how you have been waiting for it to be back in the video store. Eddie pulled so string, one of the workers he sells to works there so he told him he would give him a discount if he got the movie once the person returned it. So that brings you to now, he got the movie Monday, told you about Tuesday at school, then made plans to watch it together on Saturday. Since then he has been deep cleaning the trailer. Stressing out a girl is coming over, you are coming over.

You were just as stressed out as much as him. Everything seemed fine in theory of making of plans. But as Saturday came closer the bubblier your stomach got; you were going to Eddie’s house. Eddie what a beautiful man, you had a huge crush on him never in a million years did you think that he would talk to you let alone invite you his house to watch a movie. You triple checked your outfit, sat in front of your mirror in different positions making sure you looked good in all, brushed your teeth, took ten mints, and did everything you could think of to look pretty. When you felt decent you walked out quickly. You try to scurry pass your stepbrother room “Y/N” shit he saw you “Yes” “Where are you going” “out” “where” should you lie or tell him; lie he was way to over protective “To my friend's house” “Which one” think think “Alexis” she will cover for me “Are you going to stay the night” am I? What is going to happen tonight? Those bubble guts came back “I am not sure yet” “ok let me know” “will do Stevie” “Don’t call me that” Yea your stepbrother was Steve Harrington.

You drove to Eddie’s trying to focus on the road, but your mind couldn’t stop racing. It was a little scary, but you zoned back in when you pulled into the trailer park, not sure how you made it here. Eddie heard a car pull up and quickly looked out the window and saw your sage green car, you said that it was a gift from your grandma when you were 16. He fixed his hair then opened the door for you “Welcome to my castle” he said “hi Eddie” you spoke. There was a small staring contest between you too then Eddie broke the silence “This way to my cave” he led you to his room. You were about to be in a guy's room you thought, she is about to be in my room he thought. “Um movie is in going to grab the popcorn anything to drink?” “Water please” you sounded so sweet and polite he would get you anything if you asked him “Got it make yourself at home” You stared at his bed for a few seconds it was small but there was no other place to sit, so you sat at the corner. He walked in a minute later and was freaking you are on his bed, he tried to hide his excitement and climb into his bed “You can come further in I won’t bite” he joked you crawled next to him didn’t make any eye contact, your bodies were so close together you felt his warmth. Even being so close, your leg was falling off the bed, you tried not to think about how uncomfortable this was going to be. Eddie saw your leg he wanted to grab it a pull it close pull you close, "If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle” Eddie said where did that courage come from “are- are you sure” “Yea I don’t need you falling off” he opened his arms. Your heart started beating fast, there were so many firsts today already and now you are going to be in his arms. Your body didn’t know how to react so you slowing lied on him, he chuckled. As the movie played you slowly melted into him. The movie ended but neither of you moved, if anything you are scooting closer together. Eddie turned you to face him “Hi” “Hi” you giggled “This is nice” “Yea” “Maybe this could be a regular thing” “What do you mean” you asked “Saturday could be movie date nights” “Date? Was this a date” “It could be if you want it to be” there was silence again he thought he messed up “I have never been on a date before” you said shyly “Me either, tonight was a lot of my first” “Me too” you grinned at him. “You were a lot of my firsts” he continued “How” “Well the first girl to come to my house, first girl to be in my bed, first girl I cuddled with” He intertwined your hand together “This is my first time holding a girl's hand and this is my first kiss” he leaned in you met in the middle fireworks explode all around you. He pulled away but you brought him closer “Sorry I um I really liked that” he pecked your lips “So did I” He put on another movie, but you feel asleep “first girl to sleep with me” he laughed cuddling into you more than falling asleep himself . You were awoken by banging on the door. You and Eddie did not want to leave each other’s arms, but it only got louder. “Stay here” he kissed your forehead. He opened the door to a pissed off Steve “Harrington?” “Munson?” “What are you doing here” “Why is my sister's car in your lawn” “Sister?!”

Tag list: @thefreak0fhawkinshigh let me know if you want to be added

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merrybloomwrites · 5 months ago

Text

Spencer Agnew - Health Scare

Summary: You find a suspicious lump, and Spencer is by your side as you figure out what it is.

Word Count: 1K

CW: mentions of breast cancer, needles, medical tests

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“Hey babe, can you come here for a second?”

You’re standing in the bathroom, wrapped in just a towel. Spencer walks in with a casual, “What’s up?” before he takes in your appearance. He sees how pale your face is, how shaky you seem, and quickly changes his demeanor.

He helps you sit on the closed toilet seat and calmly asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I found a lump,” you reply, voice nothing more than a whisper.

“A lump?” he asks, looking for more information.

“Yea, on my uhm, on my breast. They always say to check once a month so I did and I don’t know, it felt like there’s something there this time,” you explain.

Spencer crouches in front of you and rests a hand on your knee. “Do you want me to check?” he inquires.

“Could you? I mean, I know it’s kind of weird-”

He cuts you off to say, “It’s not weird at all. Which side?”

“Left.”

“Okay, can you move the towel so I can feel?”

You’re extremely grateful for how Spencer is handling this. Past boyfriends would be making jokes or would be too uncomfortable, but not him. He takes your concerns seriously and only wants to help. You move the towel and raise your left arm, the way you were taught to do during a self check.

As Spencer reaches a hand out, you refrain from telling him exactly where you felt the bump. Because if he finds it too, in the same spot, then that means something is really there.

You watch the concentrated look on his face, and can see the exact moment he feels something. And sure enough, his hand is in the same spot yours was when you found it. He doesn’t say anything yet, continuing to check other spots before going back to that one.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

His eyes finally meet yours and he answers, “Yea, definitely something there.”

You take a deep breath and he asks, “What do we do now?” His use of the word “we” settles you, lets you know that you have support, whatever happens.

“I’ll call my doctor in the morning and make an appointment.”

“Okay. And for tonight? Are we worrying or distracting?”

You laugh and pretend to think for a moment before you reply, “Definitely distracting. Let me just grab my clothes.”

“Oh, well, my plans to distract you don’t really involve clothes.”

For the rest of the night, the bump doesn’t even come to mind.

But the next morning you wake up with a new wave of anxiety as you wait for the doctor to open. You finally call and make an appointment, and though they reassure you that it could be nothing, the fact that the appointment is set for the following day causes you to worry. Normally you need to schedule weeks, even months in advance.

Spencer asks if you want him to come with you, but knowing he’s in the middle of a shoot week at work and is scheduled to be in two videos that day leads you to decline. You tell him you’ll be fine.

At the appointment, the doctor checks you out, finds the lump, and continues to reassure you as she gives you the prescription to go for a mammogram. You’d feel better if she didn’t tell you to go as soon as possible.

You’re able to schedule the scan for the following Monday, and you once again try to put this all out of your mind for the coming days. There’s nothing you can do now but wait.

You again tell Spencer not to come with you, but you do go straight to his office after the mammogram. It was an uncomfortable experience, and you just need to see your person in order to feel normal again.

The two of you are alone and he asks how it was.

“They squished my boob,” you reply.

“Squished it? How dare they!” And just like that, you feel so much better, laughing with him at his very normal reply for such an abnormal situation.

Nine days later you get a call with the results. You hang up and find Spencer sitting in the living room. When you tell him the news, that the results were concerning and you need to go for a biopsy, you let yourself feel fear for the first time in the whole process. Spencer sits with you on the couch and listens to all your thoughts and worries, then holds you when you finally cry, letting out all the emotions that were building.

He insists on going with you for the biopsy, and you’re grateful for his hand in yours while the needle goes into your chest.

For 72 hours, the two of you are not fully yourselves. While Spencer tries to lighten the mood, you can tell he’s just as worried as you are.

He sits by your side at the doctors office while she tells you that you technically do not have cancer. You’re diagnosed with Lobular Carcinoma in Situ. While you don’t require treatment, you will need more vigilant checks in the future, since you’re now more likely to develop invasive breast cancer down the line.

That night, you and Spencer go out for dinner. While you’re celebrating good news, you can’t help but still fear for the future.

As if reading your mind, Spencer reaches out for your hand and says, “I know it’s scary. But now we know, right? We’ll be on top of it. And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

It’s exactly what you needed to hear, and you can finally feel yourself relaxing after weeks of worry.

“Plus,” he continues. “This means I get to feel you up all the time. You know, for science.”

The last of your worry slips away as you both begin to laugh. While it’s been a rough experience, it’s reassured you that Spencer will always be by your side. And those results, you can definitely live with.

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AN: Thank you for reading!

#spencer agnew x reader #smosh fanfiction

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lynzishell · 1 month ago

Text

The Past 💛 Atlas

When I arrive at the office Monday morning, I immediately have the urge to walk straight back to my desk and bury myself in work as I normally would. But then, remembering the promise I made, I stop and stand in the doorway, silently fighting with myself over which direction to go while the room fills with its usual chatter as people start their day.

Eventually, the better part of me wins out and I walk toward Ash’s desk, my feet moving heavy and slow along the black tufted carpet. My jaw clenches tight as I remember how we left things yesterday. We haven’t spoken since, and I worry we’ll have backtracked to where we were only a month ago, when things were awkward and cold, when he barely spoke to me. But I meant it when I told him he’s my best friend, and I’ll do whatever I can to preserve that, so I prepare myself to face him and hope he’s willing to talk to me.

But when I approach his desk, he’s not there. His chair is empty, and his monitors are still asleep. Every day since he started, he’s already been here and working by the time I arrive. But not today.

I tug at my upper lip with my fingertips as worry fills me. Is he sick? Is something wrong? Is he avoiding me?

I look toward Lex’s desk and find her facing away from me to talk with Kamryn, complimenting her performance at the club the other night. I’m certain I won’t be her favorite person today, but my worry over Ash overshadows my concern for whatever bodily harm she has planned for me, so I walk over and interrupt her, “Hey Lex?”

Her smile falls when she turns around to face me, and her eyes squint slightly behind her glasses, “What?” It’s not a friendly greeting, but it could be worse.

“Is Ash coming in today?”

Without breaking eye contact she points to her left, “Over there.”

My gaze follows the direction of her finger, past the desks to the kitchenette along the far wall, where Ash is filling a cup of coffee and laughing. Evan is over there with him, clearly having said something very funny, and my jaw clamps down again as I feel a burst of irritation spread through me. I don’t know why I’m bothered. It’s nothing new. They’ve been friends with Ash as long as I have. But there’s something about the way they’re talking to him, the way they’re smiling at him, in the same place where I first met him, laughed with him… I remember that day clearly, it was warmer than expected and he had that same jacket tied around his waist, holding a cup of coffee and smiling up at me as he asked my name… I wish I could go back to that day. I wish we could start over again.

I shake my head and look back at Lex who rolls her eyes at me. “You know, he is going to move on one day.”

Right. As much as the thought fills me with dread, I know she’s right. With a small nod, I say quietly, “I know.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go talk to him.”

“Is he mad?”

"No, you're fine. Just go."

"Alright, I'm going."

When I approach them, Ash looks over at me, still smiling from whatever hilarious banter they were in the middle of before I showed up, “Atlas, hi.”

“Hey.” I suddenly feel awkward with the two of them looking at me. Maybe I shouldn’t have come over; maybe I should’ve waited until later to try talking to him. But it’s too late, I’m here now, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to say.

Evan, sensing the rising tension, takes a nervous breath and says, “Okay. Well, I should probably get to work.”

Ash gives them a grateful smile and waits for them to leave before turning to me and asking, “You wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.”

It’s a nice day out, bright and sunny, the sky cloudless and blue, but it’s deceiving. Without the insulation of clouds, the air is frigid. The kind of cold that reaches into you and grips your bones. The kind of cold I’ll need to get used to.

We walk in silence for a minute or two, and I get the feeling he’s waiting for me to speak first, but I don’t know what to say or where to start. I know if I wait too long, I won’t speak at all, so I opt for something mundane and hope the right words will come to me once we start talking. “How did things go with your sister yesterday?”

“It was fine. She got the last pieces of furniture for the nursery and wanted me to help set it up. I wish I hadn’t gone though.”

“How come?”

“I have a bad habit of always jumping when she says jump. It’s something I’m working on, but it’s hard. I wish I’d told her no. I wish I hadn’t rushed out on you. I’m really sorry about that. And I’m sorry if I made things weird.”

He’s apologizing to me?

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one that should be sorry. I don’t know what my problem was yesterday. I woke up feeling so, I don’t know, anxious, I guess.”

“Probably the fuckin’ molly. It’s fun while it lasts, but the come down can be a bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah, I guess. But aside from that, you’re right, I’ve been confusing and I’m sorry for that. I just… I wish things were different. I wish I was different.”

“What do you mean you wish you were different?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t wish you were different. I think you’re pretty great just as you are.”

I have trouble believing he means that, but the words make me smile, nonetheless. “So, are we okay then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay.” He gives me a soft, reassuring smile that warms me from the inside.

“Good,” I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s far kinder to me than I deserve, I know this, and I don’t ever want to take it for granted. “You really are my best friend, Ash, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“I know. I don’t either.” He looks like he may want to say something more, but then decides against it and looks away.

Without thinking about it, I reach over and rub his back. When I do, he smiles up at me and I have an overwhelming desire to pull him closer. I consider for a moment whether I should, or whether it’d be better not to, finally deciding to just ask, “Can I give you a hug?”

His smile widens as he nods, “Always,” and throws his arms around my shoulders.

It’s strange. My whole life I’ve always kept a certain distance from people, always shied away from affection. Never having the courage to admit that I needed it, let alone to ask for it. But here I am now, with my arms around him, squeezing him tight, and allowing myself to relax into his, to be comforted by their warmth.

I’m not sure when it happened, but something in me has changed. A small piece of me, healed. And it makes me wonder. Wonder if there’s hope. Hope that it’s not too late, that maybe I can still fix the parts of me that are broken.

As we step away from each other, and begin to circle our way back, he asks, “So, d’you maybe want to get together this week and work on our game or something?” I like that he’s started referring to it as our game. I like that we have something that’s ours. And I wish more than anything that I could make time for him this week.

“I don’t think I can. I have to train. We only have four months until our climb, so I need to get focused.” The truth is, I’ve been more than a little distracted lately, and Kiyoshi’s been getting after me, worried I won’t be ready. I’m not particularly worried, but I promised I’d do better.

“Oh right. It’s gonna be here before you know it. You should definitely focus on training.”

“Yeah. I’ll have some time on Saturday, though. If you want to come over.”

“That works. So, are you not going to the Winter Party on Friday then?”

“Shit, is that this week?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, yeah no, I’ll be there. I was actually supposed to ask you, are you brining a plus-one?”

“No, why, are you?”

“Yeah, my sister. Dawn wants to come.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, but she wants to bring her boyfriend too. I was supposed to ask if you’d mind putting him down as your plus-one so he can come along.”

“I don’t mind, as long as he’s not an asshole or anything.”

“Phoenix? No, definitely not.”

“That’s good. My sister has a long history of dating assholes. I’m glad yours has better taste.”

“Right. How is Iris doing anyway?”

“She’s fine. Very much ready for Spencer to arrive.”

“I bet. You ready to be an uncle?”

“Hell yeah. I’m gonna spoil the shit outta that kid.”

“As you should.”

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2: You Drew Stars, Around My Scars.

Prequel to The Last Great American Dynasty. Masterlist.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Swearing, 18+.

Summary: In the shadowy underworld of New Orleans, where power is currency and loyalty is a fragile thread, you find yourself entangled with Remy LeBeau, a charismatic and dangerous mob boss. What begins as a chance encounter soon evolves into a complex, intense relationship that neither of you saw coming.

Wednesdays were the bane of your existence. There was something about the middle of the week that left you feeling trapped in a perpetual loop, too far from the last weekend to feel rested and too far from the next one to feel hopeful. Wednesdays weren’t special like Fridays, nor productive like Mondays. They just existed, heavy and unremarkable, the forgotten middle child of the week.

You woke up that morning with a groan, already feeling the ache in your bones from the long shift you pulled the night before. Your head was pounding with a dull throb that pulsed behind your eyes, and your stomach felt like it was filled with lead. It was a tiredness that went beyond lack of sleep—a fatigue that seemed to settle into your very soul, making every movement feel like wading through thick mud. Your fingers absently touched the white bandage that was tightly wrapped around the palm of your hand, underneath holding a gauze which had spent the night soaking up the blood from wound the sharp piece of glass had made.

The memory of last night’s shift played on a loop in your mind, each moment replaying with a sour tinge. It had been one of those nights where everything felt off-kilter, like you were a half-step behind in everything you did. The bar had been busier than usual, packed with patrons whose voices blended into an indistinct roar, each shout for another round grating on your already frayed nerves. And then there was the moment when everything went from bad to worse.

You had been balancing a tray of glasses, trying to navigate through the crowd, when someone bumped into you, sending the entire tray crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass was deafening, instantly silencing the bar as every head turned to stare. You felt your face flush with heat, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tightening your throat. James had rushed over to help, shooting you a sympathetic look, but the damage was done. You could feel the eyes on you, whispers buzzing just under the din of the bar’s usual noise.

“You good?” James had asked, his voice low as he picked up shards of glass with you. You’d nodded, forcing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. But inside, you were screaming. It was just another Tuesday, another night that felt like a chore you couldn’t escape from, and now this—another thing to add to the pile of reasons you loathed the middle of the week.

Today, it seemed, was no different. You dragged yourself out of bed, every movement feeling like an uphill battle. The heaviness from the night before lingered in your bones, a stubborn ache that refused to ease up, and your head pounded with a dull, relentless throb that pulsed behind your eyes. Your stomach churned as if you’d swallowed a stone, a sickly reminder of the stress that had wrapped itself around you like a vice. But the clock was ticking, and there was no time to wallow in the discomfort. You had a shift waiting for you, another long day at the bar that wouldn’t let you off the hook just because you weren’t feeling your best.

With a sigh, you trudged into the bathroom, the tiles cool under your bare feet. You peeled off your clothes, tossing them aside without a second glance, and stepped into the shower. The water burst from the showerhead in a warm cascade, and you let it wash over you, the heat slowly easing the tension knotted in your muscles. The steam rose around you, clouding the glass and softening the harsh light of the bathroom. It was a brief moment of solitude, a small reprieve from the world outside, but your mind was far from quiet.

As the water pounded against your skin, your thoughts drifted back to Remy and the envelope of money he’d left you. You could still feel the weight of it in your hands, the crisp bills neatly bundled, a small fortune that had been casually handed over like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing—not to you. You couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in your chest since you’d opened it, the nagging question of why he’d done it, and what, if anything, he expected in return.

The money was supposed to make things easier, wasn’t it? A generous gesture that could take the edge off your worries, at least for a while. And yet, it had the opposite effect. Instead of relief, all you felt was anxiety—a prickling discomfort that gnawed at you every time you thought about it. Remy’s note replayed in your head, his messy handwriting scrawled across the scrap of paper: “Now you won’t need the hours for a while.” What did he mean by that? Did he think you needed saving? Did he see you as some kind of charity case, or worse, someone he could manipulate with a wad of cash?

You leaned your forehead against the cool tiles, the water streaming down your back as you tried to make sense of it all. Remy was a mystery, wrapped up in charm and danger, a man who moved through life with a confidence that was as magnetic as it was unsettling. He didn’t follow the same rules as everyone else—hell, he seemed to make up his own as he went along. And now, you were caught in his orbit, pulled in by the gravity of his unexpected generosity.

But generosity from someone like Remy didn’t come without strings. You knew that much. He was a man who played by his own rules, and those rules were as unpredictable as he was. What if this was just the start of something bigger? A debt you hadn’t asked for but now found yourself owing? The thought sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of the shower doing little to chase away the chill of uncertainty.

You tried to push the thoughts away, focusing instead on the simple task of washing your hair, the familiar routine a welcome distraction. But even as you lathered up, your mind kept drifting back to him—the way his eyes had lingered on you with that knowing smirk, the way he’d effortlessly made the room bend to his will. He was charming, sure, but there was always an edge to it, a hint of something sharper hidden beneath the surface.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about you, too. Was this all just a game to him? Another move in whatever strategy he was playing? The water cascaded over your face, blurring your vision as you scrubbed at your skin a little harder, as if you could wash away the confusion that clung to you like the steam in the bathroom.

What did he see when he looked at you? A barmaid trying to make ends meet? A girl with a chip on her shoulder and too much pride to accept help, even when it was handed to her in crisp hundreds? Or maybe he saw something else entirely, something that even you couldn’t see.

You stood there, letting the water run over you until it started to cool, the heat fading into a lukewarm drizzle that did little to soothe the restless thoughts circling in your head. The sound of the shower became a distant hum, the white noise failing to drown out the questions that had no easy answers. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever—Remy wasn’t the type to let things go, especially not when he’d taken an interest. And with the promise of lunch today, it seemed that whatever game he was playing was far from over.

With a heavy sigh, you turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping yourself in a towel as the cool air hit your skin. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your reflection slightly blurred by the lingering steam. You looked tired, your eyes shadowed with the weight of a sleepless night and the worries that refused to be rinsed away.

You dried off slowly, each motion feeling deliberate and almost meditative, as if you could ground yourself in the routine. But even as you dressed, pulling on your work clothes and tying your hair back, the questions lingered. You couldn’t help but feel like you were standing on the edge of something, a line that once crossed, there’d be no going back.

You grabbed your bag and keys, giving yourself one last look in the mirror—a silent pep talk before stepping back into the world. The bar awaited, another shift that would blend into the rest, but now, with Remy’s shadow looming over your thoughts, even the familiar felt uncertain. You squared your shoulders, taking a deep breath as you left the apartment, ready to face whatever the day—and Remy—might throw your way. But deep down, you knew that today wasn’t just another Wednesday. It was the start of something you couldn’t yet define, but you felt it in your gut, the unsettling sense that everything was about to change. <><><><><><><> Jean Grey walked through Remy LeBeau's expansive penthouse, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The space was as impressive as it was impersonal—clean, modern lines, dark leather furniture, and artwork that hinted at wealth, but not at the man who lived there. Jean moved with purpose, her eyes scanning each room with a quick, practiced sweep, searching for the man she’d known almost her entire life. Despite the warmth in her expression, the kindness that softened her features, Jean was no stranger to the dangerous world Remy occupied. She had been by his side through all of it—the good, the bad, the bloody. There was no one either of them would ever trust more than the other.

"Where the hell are you, LeBeau?" she muttered under her breath, finally making her way to his bedroom.

The room was a study in understated luxury. The king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens, sat against a dark, slate-grey accent wall. Matching nightstands flanked the bed, each holding minimalistic lamps that cast a soft, ambient glow across the room. The hardwood floors gleamed beneath her feet, polished to perfection, and on the far side of the room, a large window overlooked the city skyline, offering a breathtaking view of New Orleans.

To the left was an open doorway leading into a walk-in closet that could rival a high-end boutique. The light inside was on, casting a warm glow across rows of carefully arranged designer suits, shoes, and accessories. Jean grinned as she caught sight of him inside.

"Ah, we’re going to need intercoms in this place if this keeps happening," she joked, leaning against the doorframe. There he was, standing in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in nothing but a white dress shirt and a pair of impeccably tailored black suit pants, his usually confident demeanor tinged with uncharacteristic hesitation.

Remy glanced over his shoulder at her, his grin reflecting in the mirror. "’fraid I migh’ be too far away to hear y’ nagging, chère?"

Jean’s smirk widened as she watched Remy toss yet another shirt onto the growing pile on the nearby chair. His movements were quick, graceful, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a subtle rigidity that she didn’t miss. He was thinking—overthinking, really—and that wasn’t like him. Normally, Remy LeBeau was all instinct and smooth confidence, especially when it came to matters of appearance. But today?

Today, he was deliberate.

"Dark blue, far right," Jean said, her voice cutting through the silence with amusement.

Remy glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a fleeting look of gratitude passing over his face before he grabbed the suggested shirt. As he buttoned it with practiced ease, Jean leaned more comfortably against the doorframe, studying him like she always did when something was off. She knew him too damn well. And this? This wasn’t just business as usual.

"So," she began, keeping her tone light but probing, "why are you getting so dressed up? It’s just Olivia. You’ve had lunch with her a thousand times. It’s business."

Remy didn’t answer, his hands moving to loop a belt through his suit pants. His face remained impassive, but Jean caught the subtle shift in his posture—the way his jaw clenched just slightly, the way his eyes flickered toward the floor for a brief moment before he focused back on his task.

Jean’s smirk deepened. She knew this game. Remy was trying to play it cool, but Jean had seen him handle real threats—life-or-death situations—without a fraction of the tension he was carrying now. Which meant this wasn’t about Olivia. This was about something, or rather, someone, else.

"Unless…" she started, letting the word hang in the air, "you’re mixing business with pleasure?"

She watched as he fastened his cufflinks, his movements precise, almost too controlled. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, but Jean knew better. She was getting close. Normally, Remy would have shot back some flirtatious quip by now, something playful and teasing to throw her off course. But today? He was silent.

Jean shook her head, dismissing her own theory with a wave of her hand. "No, she’s not your type. So it’s something to do with the bar, because you haven’t changed your regular spot in years. And suddenly, you have with zero issues involved."

Remy’s face remained neutral, but Jean saw the telltale sign of discomfort—the way his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, a habit he’d had since they were kids. He was trying to mask it, but Jean knew him too well. She was onto something.

"It’s not the owner," she continued, her eyes narrowing as she pieced the puzzle together. "She’s not your type either. So it’s either a regular… or someone who works there."

Remy moved to grab his suit jacket, slipping it on with his usual grace. But Jean didn’t miss the flash of hesitation in his eyes, the way his hands fumbled just slightly as he adjusted the lapels. It was subtle—so subtle—but Jean had been watching Remy for most of her life. She knew every little crack in his armor, every tiny tell that gave him away when he was trying to hide something.

"Not a regular," she mused aloud, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You don’t like alcoholics, but you do like a challenge. So it’s someone who works there, someone who can handle themselves… someone who caught your attention."

Remy’s silence spoke volumes. He reached for his watch, slipping it onto his wrist with a precision that felt too forced, too deliberate. Jean’s smile grew. She was right, and they both knew it.

"Friday night," she said, her voice softening as the pieces started falling into place. "That’s when you started going to that bar, right? So whoever it is, they were working Friday... which narrows it down."

Remy didn’t meet her gaze, his attention focused on adjusting the watch, but Jean could feel the tension radiating off him. She was close—so close.

"It’s not a male," she concluded, her tone almost triumphant now. "You don’t fuss over your appearance this much unless it’s for a woman. And I’m guessing it’s the one you left the money for—am I right?"

And there it was—the smallest, briefest pause. Remy’s hand hovered over his dresser, his fingers stilling for just a fraction of a second. It was so quick, so subtle, that anyone else might have missed it. But Jean didn’t. She knew she’d hit her mark.

This was why they were friends. She could read him when no one else could.

She watched him carefully, her smile turning softer, more knowing. "I haven’t seen you act like this since—"

"Don’t say it," Remy cut her off, his voice low, a warning laced beneath the words.

Jean raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She didn’t need to. She had already seen enough. Whoever it was—whoever had gotten under his skin—was stirring something in him. Not in the physical sense, but in a way that Remy wasn’t prepared for.

Remy LeBeau had spent most of his life building walls. He was charming, flirtatious, always ready with a smooth line or a quick smile. But beneath that exterior, beneath the easy confidence, there was something else. Something raw. Something he kept locked away. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was grief, maybe it was just the weight of all the things he’d done in his life. But whatever it was, it had made him keep people at arm’s length.

Until now.

Jean could see it in the way he moved today, in the way he was fussing over his appearance. He cared about this, about her. And that scared him—really scared him. Remy didn’t like to let people in. It was too much of a risk. Too much of a reminder of what he’d lost. But whoever this woman was, she had him rattled.

"Is she working today?" Jean asked, her voice gentler now, less teasing.

Remy shrugged, trying to play it off. "No idea," he muttered, but it was clear he was lying. Of course he knew. He wouldn’t be putting this much effort into his appearance if he didn’t know.

Jean pushed herself off the doorframe, stepping closer to him, her expression softening. "Might come say hello to Olivia today," she teased lightly, though her eyes remained sharp, searching for any reaction.

Remy sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for his shoes. He slid them on with a practiced motion, his fingers moving quickly as he tied the laces. But Jean noticed the way his shoulders tensed at her words, the way his jaw tightened just slightly. He didn’t want Jean anywhere near the bar today, and that told her everything she needed to know.

"Jean," he said, his voice low but firm, "don’t."

She smiled, her eyes soft as she looked at him. "You’re allowed to feel things, Remy. It’s okay."

He stayed silent, his hands stilling for a moment as he straightened his jacket. Jean could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was fighting against whatever it was he was feeling. She knew he hated this—hated being vulnerable, hated letting people see beneath the mask he wore so well. But this was different. This was someone different.

"You don’t always need to shut the world out," Jean continued gently. "As you found out on Friday."

Remy stood, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket with quick, practiced movements. He didn’t say anything, but Jean didn’t need him to. She could see the truth in the way he moved, in the way he was preparing himself for whatever came next. He was trying to act like it didn’t matter, like this woman didn’t matter—but Jean knew better.

For the first time in a long time, Remy LeBeau cared about someone. And that terrified him.

As he made his way to the door, Jean didn’t stop him. She just watched, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Good luck," she called after him, her voice soft but knowing.

He didn’t respond, didn’t even spare her a glance over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold into the hallway, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. The door clicked softly behind him, the sound almost too final in the stillness that followed. Jean stood there for a moment longer, her eyes lingering on the empty space where he had just been, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t need to see his face to know what was going on inside his head. She could feel it, like a hum in the air, a tension that had been building for months.

This—whatever this was—was only the beginning.

Remy LeBeau could be as guarded as Fort Knox when he wanted to be. He’d spent years perfecting the persona of the smooth-talking charmer, the careless flirt who never let anyone too close, always keeping the world at arm’s length. It was his defense mechanism, his way of controlling the chaos in his life. But Jean had known him too long, seen too much of the real man beneath the mask to be fooled. She had watched him build those walls, brick by brick, after every loss, every betrayal.

And now, for the first time in a long time, she could see the cracks.

Whoever this woman was, she had done something in one night that no one else had in years—she had gotten under his skin. Jean could see it in everything Remy had done today, in the way he had fussed over his appearance like a man preparing for battle. It wasn’t just about looking good or making an impression. It was about vulnerability, about stepping into a situation where Remy no longer had complete control. He cared—and for someone like him, that was as dangerous as walking into a room full of enemies with no way out.

Jean’s smile softened as she thought about it. She had seen Remy flirt his way through countless encounters, his easy charm always deflecting any real emotional investment. But this? This was different. This wasn’t the calculated charm of a man who knew exactly what to say and do to keep things light and easy. This was Remy uncertain, Remy hesitant, Remy affected—and that was a side of him she hadn’t seen in years.

The truth was, Jean had a feeling that Remy wasn’t going to be able to keep this woman out, no matter how hard he tried. She had already slipped through the cracks, already found her way past the carefully constructed walls he kept around his heart. And once someone got that close, once they were inside, the game changed. Remy could try all he wanted to keep her at a distance, but it was too late.

Jean knew him well enough to know that Remy wasn’t the type to fall easily, but when he did, he fell hard. And this woman—whoever she was—had already managed to make him care. That was the dangerous part. Once Remy started caring, the stakes became higher, the risks more personal.

Jean sighed softly, pushing herself away from the doorframe and walking further into the room. She glanced at the discarded shirts still piled on the chair, at the cologne bottle sitting uncapped on the dresser. She could picture him standing there, staring at his reflection, second-guessing every detail, every choice. It wasn’t like him. Remy was usually the picture of confidence, the man who walked into a room and owned it without even trying. But this woman had him second-guessing, had him thinking—and that was the clearest sign of all.

This wasn’t just some passing interest. She wasn’t just another name on a list of fleeting romances. This woman had gotten to him in a way that no one else had in a long, long time.

And Jean had a feeling that Remy wouldn’t be able to shut her out, even if he wanted to.

What started as curiosity, maybe even a little temptation, had already turned into something more. Jean could see it in the way he had tried to deflect her questions, the way he had avoided her gaze when she mentioned the bar. He was protecting something, guarding it fiercely—but not because he didn’t want it. Because he did. Because it mattered. And that, more than anything, was what made this different.

Jean knew that Remy was walking into something he hadn’t prepared for, something he couldn’t control with charm or wit or the usual tricks up his sleeve. For the first time in a long time, Remy LeBeau was stepping into the unknown.

And whoever this woman was, she had the power to change everything.

Jean could only hope that Remy would let her. <><><><><><><><><><><> The bar felt warmer than usual today, the faint hum of the air conditioning not quite cutting through the lingering humidity from outside. It was one of those sticky New Orleans mornings where the air clung to your skin, and everything seemed to move just a little slower. The low murmur of conversation from the few early patrons mixed with the faint clink of glassware, creating a quiet, almost lazy backdrop that contrasted sharply with the undercurrent of tension building inside you.

The soft clink of glassware echoed through the bar, a familiar sound that usually brought you a sense of calm. James stood behind the counter, working methodically as he dried a glass, his movements slow and deliberate. The lunch rush hadn’t hit yet, and for a short, fleeting moment, the place felt almost peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that was rare in a bar like this, where the noise of clattering dishes, raised voices, and the chaos of service usually filled the air. But now, in this lull, you could hear the hum of the ice machine, the faint murmur of conversations from the few early patrons, and the occasional shuffle of feet on the worn floorboards.

You stood at the counter, absently slicing lemons, the knife gliding through the fruit with practiced ease. The citrus scent filled the air, sharp and fresh, mingling with the lingering smell of alcohol and old wood. It should have been comforting, this routine, this simple task that you had done a thousand times before. And in a way, it was. The rhythm of it, the repetition, kept your hands busy. But your mind? Your mind was far from settled.

You could feel the tension in your chest, a tight knot of anxiety that had been coiling tighter since Friday night. The memory of it played over and over in your head—the dim lights, the low hum of conversation, and him. Remy. The way he had looked at you, the way his voice had curled around your name like something tangible, something heavy with meaning.

“Ya listening, or are you off in your own little world?” James broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts with a teasing grin, his voice light but observant.

You blinked, realizing you had slowed your pace with the lemons, the knife hovering over the next slice. You shook your head, offering him a small smile, though it felt more like a reflex than anything genuine. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

James chuckled, shaking his head, but his eyes softened with understanding. “I was saying I’m thinking of taking Nat to that new restaurant on the high street. You know, the one with the ghost tours? Thought it might be fun.”

You watched him as he spoke, his face lighting up at the thought of Nat. There was something so...simple about it. Something so easy and real. The way he talked about her, the way he planned little surprises like this—it made your heart ache in a way you didn’t like to think about too often.

“It’s sweet watching you two, I mean it makes me want to vomit of course but the sentiment is still there,” you said, your voice softer now, the knife moving again as you focused on the lemons. “So, is she meeting you here after your shift?”

James nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I told her it’s a surprise, but hell, I’ve got nothing planned yet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head affectionately. “A picnic. Simple, easy. You can pick up everything on your lunch break. Maybe get Vis to help you out if you’re desperate.”

James snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and risk Abigail finding out? No thanks. I’m not risking my life for a picnic.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand, watching him as he finished drying the glass. The bar was still quiet, the lunch rush only a looming threat for now, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. “I want to be taken out,” you muttered, almost to yourself, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

James looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Who by? Your last date was a fucking trainwreck.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off with a half-hearted smile. “By a bullet or a date, either one would work at this point.”

James laughed, the sound loud in the quiet of the bar, but warm, familiar. “It can’t be that bad. I thought you were done with the men of New Orleans?”

You paused, your hands stilling over the lemons, your eyes drifting out toward the empty tables. “Yeah, I am,” you said quietly, the truth of it settling in your chest like a weight. “But hearing you talk about Nat... it’s nice. I want someone to talk about me like that, you know? Without adding ‘She’s also slightly psychotic’ at the end.”

There it was again—that ache. That quiet, painful longing for something more than late nights at the bar and casual conversations that never went deeper than surface level. You wanted what James and Nat had. Something real. Something that wasn’t complicated. Someone who would look at you and see you, not just the bartender slicing lemons in the corner.

James reached out, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’ll get it. You just need the right guy. Someone who can match your energy, someone who understands you.”

You smiled at him, but the words felt hollow. Because even if that someone existed, they weren’t in your life right now.

Just then, the sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts, and Kate slid up to the bar, her black bangs falling into her eyes, a smirk already pulling at her lips. “I personally don’t know how you don’t have men throwing themselves at your feet after last night,” she teased, her tone light but knowing. “Smooth.”

You rolled your eyes, straightening up from your position at the bar as you glanced toward Kate, her black bangs falling into her eyes in that casual, effortless way that always seemed to work for her. A grin crossed her face, playful and full of mischief, as she brought up last night’s tray incident.

Trying to deflect, you held up your hand, showing the red, angry mark on your palm where you removed the bandage this morning. “Think I could get put on light duties for this?” you asked with a smirk, though the sting from the cut still pulsed faintly beneath your skin.

Kate raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, James chimed in, not even looking up from the glass he was polishing. “Oh please, you could lose a leg and Abigail would still ask why you weren’t stocking the shelves.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that bubbles up more from exhaustion than amusement. The three of you grinned at each other, and in unison, you chorused the infamous line Abigail always threw at you whenever you dared rest for more than a moment: “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.”

It was a shared joke, but the weight behind it wasn’t lost on any of you. Abigail ran this place with an iron fist, and no one, not even James with his easy charm, was immune to her scrutiny. The moment of shared humor gave a brief reprieve to the tension you hadn’t realized had been steadily building since you walked in this morning. But it was only a brief reprieve.

Kate’s eyes glinted as she leaned in closer, her brown eyes gleaming with amusement. “Okay, Katniss Everdeen,” you shot back at her, trying to divert the conversation, “aren’t you working VIP today?”

She nodded, her grin widening like a cat who had just caught a mouse. “Yeah, but it’s pretty quiet up there, Clint has it covered for now, until 12:30 when your new best friend and his ‘friend’ are supposed to show up.”

The mention of him—Remy—made your heart skip a beat. You knew exactly who she meant, and the knot of anxiety that had been simmering in your stomach suddenly tightened. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but you could feel the heat rising in your chest, an uncomfortable mix of nerves and something else you weren’t ready to name yet. James, ever the keen observer, didn’t miss a beat. He turned to you, his grin widening as he leaned against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bet you’re regretting not working VIP today, huh?”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a laugh that felt too light, too forced. “Not in the least,” you said, though your voice wavered just enough to betray you. “I’ll take drunk tourists over mob bosses any day.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was racing, the way your palms felt just a little too clammy. The truth was, the thought of seeing Remy again was already gnawing at you, the memory of last Friday still fresh in your mind. The way he had moved through the bar with a quiet confidence, the way his eyes had lingered on you just a moment too long, like he was seeing something more than just the bartender serving him. The air had felt heavier when he was near, charged with something unspoken, something dangerous.

He was the kind of man you had always told yourself to stay far away from—dangerous, unpredictable, a walking storm wrapped in charm and mystery. And yet... there was something about him. Something magnetic. Something that made it hard to breathe when he was near. The chemistry between you had been undeniable, electric, and now, the thought of facing him again left you both terrified and... intrigued.

Kate, ever perceptive, shot you a knowing glance, her smirk widening. “Sure, you’re not curious,” she teased, her voice lilting with amusement. “But just so you know, the VIP section is wide open if you want to take a peek later. I go on my break at 2, so I’ll come get you to take over.”

You shook your head, trying to shake off the flutter of nerves in your chest. “Yeah, I’m good,” you muttered, turning back to the lemons, though your hands felt heavier now, the knife moving slower. “Let’s just get through the lunch rush without any drama.”

But even as you spoke the words, you knew they were hollow. Kate’s smirk lingered in the corner of your vision, James’s knowing grin hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. They both knew you better than you wanted to admit. They knew you weren’t as indifferent as you were trying to pretend. Not when it came to him.

You busied yourself with the task at hand, slicing the lemons with mechanical precision, but your mind was already elsewhere. You couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be anything but ordinary. Remy was coming back, and no matter how much you tried to push the thought away, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care, the truth was you did.

Because the truth was, you were already in deeper than you wanted to admit. You could deny it all you wanted, but the anticipation was there, simmering just beneath the surface. The anxiety. The curiosity. The pull. “Look, I’ll have a chat with Abigail when she comes up okay?” Kate smiled as she grabbed a large box of mineral water to take back with her. You shook your head, “Don’t you dare,” You warned. Kate’s grin widened as she turned on her heel and walked back the way she came from. The bar was starting to get busier as the lunch crowd trickled in, the low hum of conversation growing louder by the minute. You and James exchanged a glance, the kind of shared look that only came from working long shifts together, from knowing what the other was thinking without a word being said.

“Do you ever get the feeling that she knows more than she lets on?” you asked, your voice low, but laced with curiosity as your eyes followed Kate’s retreating figure. She had a way of knowing things—of reading people—that always left you feeling just a little exposed, like she could see right through the front you tried to put on.

James nodded, handing you a cloth and the bottle of disinfectant before turning back to the bar. “Oh, absolutely. Never misses a thing, that one,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the room as if expecting Kate to pop back up with another knowing smirk.

You were about to respond when the sharp clatter of a glass hitting wood echoed down the bar. You turned just in time to see a patron spill his drink, the amber liquid pooling across the top of the bar and dripping down to the floor. A small, involuntary wince crossed your face as you grabbed the cloth and headed down to clean it up.

As you reached the end of the bar, the man—a middle-aged guy with kind eyes and a slightly embarrassed smile—was already apologizing profusely, his words tumbling over each other in a rush. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—please, let me clean it up for you.”

You offered him a smile, though it felt tight around the edges, the automatic response of someone who had dealt with too many spills, too many apologies. “Oh no, it’s fine, honestly,” you lied, your voice warm with the practiced ease of someone used to dealing with messes—both literal and metaphorical. “These things happen. Not an issue.”

Inside, though, you couldn’t help the irritation that prickled at the edges of your patience. The man was polite enough, but cleaning up after someone else’s carelessness always had a way of wearing you down. You wiped down the bar, your movements quick and efficient, while he continued to apologize, asking if you could pour him another drink once you were done.

For a moment, you hesitated, the urge to deny him service flaring up inside you. After all, he’d just made a mess, hadn’t he? Why should you rush to refill his glass when you were the one stuck cleaning up after him? But then, as always, the part of you that knew better—the part that understood the unspoken rules of service work—forced a brighter smile onto your face. “I’ll get right on that,” you said, your voice chipper, though the words felt hollow.

As you finished cleaning the spill, you couldn’t help but glance up just in time to see Abigail making her way across the bar. There was something about her presence that always made the room shift—like the air itself tightened in her wake. She walked with an air of authority, her shoulders squared, her head held high. Even the regulars sat up a little straighter when she passed by, their conversations quieting as they instinctively tried to look more sober, more responsible.

You and James exchanged another look, one that spoke volumes without saying a word. It was the same every time Abigail walked in. Even when she wasn’t watching, it felt like she was always watching.

But then, just as Abigail disappeared into the back office, the front door swung open, and he walked in.

Remy.

Your heart skipped a beat before you could stop it, an involuntary reaction that sent a jolt of warmth—no, frustration—through your chest. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but there was no ignoring the way your stomach twisted when you saw him. He looked as effortlessly charming as ever, his grin wide and easy, his eyes sweeping across the room like he owned the place. And there, tucked neatly under his arm, was a woman—a brunette with long, perfectly curled hair and a body that seemed to mold perfectly against his side.

The sight of her—of them—sent a flicker of something sharp and unpleasant through you. Jealousy. You hated the way it crept up, unbidden and unwanted, curling around your chest like a tight fist. You had no right to feel like this. You barely knew him. Sure, there had been some... moments between you—moments that had left you feeling dizzy and breathless and more than a little confused—but that didn’t mean anything, right?

Right.

You tried to remind yourself of who he was. Of what he was. Remy was trouble. Unpredictable. Dangerous. The kind of man who could sweep you off your feet one minute and disappear the next, leaving you to wonder if any of it had been real. You’d seen it before—men like him, with their smooth words and easy smiles, always keeping you at arm’s length, always leaving you wanting more but never offering anything solid to hold onto.

And yet, you couldn’t stop the way your eyes lingered on him as he led the woman toward the VIP section. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, and she was laughing at something he said, her head tilted back, her smile wide and carefree. The sight of them together stirred something bitter in the back of your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to look away.

You had no reason to feel like this. No right. What had happened between you and Remy—if you could even call it that—was nothing more than a fleeting moment, a spark that had flickered briefly before being snuffed out by the reality of who he was.

James, always perceptive, caught the shift in your expression. He glanced from you to Remy, his brow furrowing slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just handed you another clean cloth, his voice quiet but steady. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, too quickly, and plastered on a smile that felt a little too tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need to finish up here.”

But as you wiped down the last of the spill and turned back to the bar, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Remy’s presence, even from across the room. It was like he had cast a shadow over the space, one that you couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard you tried.

Because the truth was, no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise, seeing him with someone else had stirred something inside you—something you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet.

The lunch rush had swept in like a tide, and you found yourself pulled from one patron to the next, each conversation blurring into the next. The stories and small talk were always the same—mundane snippets of life, told with slight variations by different faces. A businessman complaining about his boss. A tourist asking for recommendations. A regular droning on about their week. You nodded, smiled, and laughed in all the right places, the mask of polite interest never slipping from your face. It was part of the job, after all—being invisible, being present, being everything they needed you to be for the few minutes they stood at the bar.

But as the minutes dragged on, you could feel the dull ache in your hand becoming sharper, the wound from earlier throbbing with each movement. Every time you gripped a bottle or wiped down the counter, the skin stretched and pulled, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from wincing. You glanced down at your palm, the red mark still angry and swollen despite the bandage. But there wasn’t time to stop, not with the bar bustling and James already swamped at the other end.

Finally, when you couldn’t ignore the tightness in your hand any longer, you allowed yourself a brief moment of reprieve. You leant back for a moment, blowing on the cut in your hand, trying to quell the pain. As you heard your name being called from the other end of the bar, you turned to the sound and there stood a familiar figure, his blond hair catching the light, his wide grin instantly putting you at ease. Steve. The sight of him made your shoulders relax, and the tension that had been coiling inside you loosened slightly.

“Well, good afternoon, Steven,” you teased lightly, a grin to match his spreading across your face.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the bar as the tight black uniform he wore stretched across his broad chest and arms. “What, no nicknames today?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing.

You cleared your throat dramatically, playing along. “Sorry, Captain America,” you replied with a laugh, watching as the amusement sparkled in his bright blue eyes. There was something undeniably comforting about Steve—something stable, easy, uncomplicated. A sense of friendship rooted in years of shared banter and harmless flirting, where neither of you expected more than the lighthearted companionship. There was always a natural ease between you and Steve—a rhythm you’d both fallen into over time, like an unspoken dance. Conversations flowed effortlessly, punctuated by teasing quips and the occasional shared glance that said more than words ever could. He wasn’t just another face behind the bar. Steve was steady, like a lighthouse in the storm, always there to keep things grounded when the crowd got rowdy, or when the night wore on and you found yourself needing a moment of respite.

It hadn’t always been this way, though. Not long ago, when Steve first stepped foot in the bar, there was something more intense about him. He used to have that sharp, commanding presence—like someone who could size up a room in seconds and have everything under control with just a flicker of his gaze. He hadn’t needed to raise his voice to keep things in check; his mere presence had a way of calming the chaos, the same way it likely had when he was still in uniform.

Steve had been forced to leave the Army after an incident—a shadowy chapter in his life that no one knew the full details of. He never talked about it, but the scars were there in his posture, in the way his shoulders tightened when someone asked about his past. Whatever happened had changed the course of his life, leaving a mark that still lingered, though he carried it with quiet grace.

Now, instead of leading soldiers or making split-second decisions in the heat of battle, Steve worked security at the bar. It was a far cry from the days when he’d been responsible for a team, the weight of command heavy on his shoulders, but he still approached it with the same focus, the same precision. You could see it in the way he moved—every step deliberate, every glance calculated. He was always scanning the room, making sure everyone was safe, that there was no trouble brewing. Even when he seemed relaxed, arms crossed or leaning against the bar with that familiar grin, you knew his mind was always working.

The Army had shaped him, molded him into someone who thrived under pressure, who could make order out of chaos, and though he wasn’t in command anymore, some habits died hard. Sometimes, when he thought no one was watching, you’d catch a glimpse of the weight he carried. A distant look in his eye, a slight wince when someone mentioned anything military-related, or the way he’d instinctively roll his shoulder, like the strain of responsibility still tugged at him.

You respected the boundary he kept about his past, never pushing for details. There was no need. Whatever he had gone through was his to carry, and it didn’t define who he was in this place. Steve was more than that. He was the guy who made your worst shifts bearable with his easygoing smile and quick wit, the one who had your back when things got tough. There was comfort in knowing that, no matter what, Steve was there, watching over you and the rest of the bar.

And in return, you offered him that same unspoken understanding. You both knew your friendship—the playful flirting, the camaraderie—it wasn’t going anywhere beyond the bar. There was no secret longing, no hidden agenda. Just a shared connection, a mutual respect, and the knowledge that, in some small way, you were both each other's refuge from the more complicated parts of your lives.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s better.” He shifted his weight slightly, his smile softening as he looked around the bar. “Has it been okay today?”

You nodded, feeling some of the stress of the rush starting to slip away now that you had a familiar face in front of you. “Oh yeah. We’ve got Lebeau upstairs in VIP, so I feel like everyone’s on their best behavior today,” you said with a small grin, though the mention of Remy’s name made your stomach tighten again.

Steve nodded knowingly, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he winced slightly, rolling his shoulder. “Well, let’s hope it stays that way. I’m not sure I’m up for dealing with any trouble today. Pulled a muscle in my shoulder last night, and it’s killing me.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his dramatic tone, reaching across the bar to give his arm a playful rub. “Aww, poor baby,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. But your touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary, a brief moment of warmth passing between you before you pulled your hand back.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head at your teasing, but before the conversation could go any further, you noticed James getting swamped again on the other side of the bar, his movements quick and a little frantic as more patrons crowded around.

You turned back to Steve, offering him an apologetic smile. “Looks like I’m needed. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

He gave you a quick nod, his smile still easy and relaxed, before he straightened up and waved you off. “Go save the day, bartender extraordinaire.”

You made your way to the customers, a smile gracing your face as you continued to take orders; but you felt the lingering gaze on you, the way your hairs stand up on the back of your neck the way it does when something feels off in the air.

You looked up and saw him—Remy, seated in the VIP section, surrounded by luxury and comfort. His posture was relaxed, but his expression wasn’t. His brow was furrowed, his gaze sharp, but it wasn’t anger or possessiveness that darkened his features. No, it was something subtler. Something more elusive.

He wasn’t even pretending to pay attention to the woman beside him now. His focus was on you, and there was something in the way he looked at you that made you pause. It wasn’t jealousy, but curiosity—intense, unrelenting curiosity. As if he was trying to figure something out, to understand a puzzle that had just shifted in front of him.

His gaze flickered briefly toward Steve, who was now standing near another staff member, laughing at something they’d said. But Remy’s attention didn’t linger on him. It returned to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was studying your every move. It didn’t feel invasive, but it was certainly... thorough. Like he was trying to understand why you had his attention at all—why he couldn’t look away.

There was a pull between you, but it wasn’t the kind that demanded anything, not in that moment. It was a slow burn, the kind that made you feel seen in a way that was both unsettling and intriguing. His eyes weren’t staking a claim, nor was there any silent demand. Instead, there was an openness—a question hanging in the air between you.

His expression softened slightly, as if he had come to some quiet realization, though you couldn’t guess what it was. And then, just as quickly, his eyes flicked away, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned back toward his conversation, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Your breath caught, not because of any looming tension, but because you could feel the weight of that curiosity—his, and now, your own. But it didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense. You had no reason to feel this way—to feel anything at all for him. And yet, there it was, that undeniable pull, that inexplicable gravity that seemed to anchor you to him, even when you weren’t looking.

You quickly averted your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you forced yourself to focus on the drinks in front of you. But the weight of his stare lingered, and as you moved through the motions of the lunch rush, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something that you weren’t ready to face.

Because the truth was, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, Remy Lebeau had gotten under your skin. <><><><><><><><> Remy leaned back in the plush VIP chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, the other holding his phone as he turned it toward Olivia. She grabbed it out of his hand, quickly typing something in before handing it back. He grabbed his phone back and looked at it, the familiar excel spreadsheet now showing a long row of numbers.

His eyes slid away from Olivia and toward the bar area, where afternoon’s rhythm was in full swing. You moved with practiced speed, pouring drinks, laughing with patrons, and keeping the alcohol flowing. It was a well-oiled machine, a dance of chaos and control. But Remy wasn’t interested in what you were doing right now. He wasn’t interested in Olivia or the shallow conversations that filled the air. His gaze moved and settled on the dark-haired bartender who’d caught his eye earlier.

Kate, he believed her name was.

She moved with purpose, her hands always busy, but there was something in the way she carried herself that Remy found intriguing. A slight edge to her movements, a tension in her shoulders when she passed him. Her eyes never lingered too long on any one person, but tonight, Remy had caught her looking. And now, he was waiting.

He watched her with the same casual intensity he applied to most things—his posture relaxed, but his mind alert, always taking in the details. After a moment, her gaze flicked upward, meeting his. There it was. The pause, the hesitation.

Remy’s lips curled into a faint smile as he raised two fingers, gesturing for her to come over. It was a subtle motion, but one that carried weight, a quiet command that didn’t need words to be understood.

Kate’s reaction was immediate—her eyes widened just a fraction, and Remy could see the slight falter in her step, the momentary uncertainty. But she recovered quickly, smoothing her apron as if she needed something to do with her hands. After a second's pause, she made her way over, weaving through the crowd with a practiced grace, though her nerves were evident in the way she glanced around, avoiding eye contact with anyone but him.

When she reached him, she took a deep breath in, holding that tablet and standing a little straighter than before. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, her voice steady, though there was a trace of something beneath it. Anxiety, maybe. Or curiosity.

Remy’s smile widened slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He tipped his head back, studying her for a moment before speaking, his Cajun drawl slipping into his words like molasses. “Don’t be nervous, chère. Jus’ got a quick question for y’.” He nodded toward the lower bar area, where the tall, broad-shouldered blonde had just walked into the gaming room. “That blond man—th’ one who just left the bar. Who is he?”

Kate shifted, her eyes darting toward the gaming room. She saw the blonde hair, the uniform, and then she spotted you, laughing with James as you served a customer. Her stomach dropped. She swallowed deeply, trying to keep her tone neutral. “That’s Steve. He’s, uh… head of security here.”

She said it simply, like that would be enough. Short and sweet, she told herself. Don’t make things weirder than they already are.

But Remy wasn’t satisfied. He leaned back in his chair, his posture deceptively casual, though the atmosphere between them shifted. His fingers tapped thoughtfully against his lower lip, his red-on-black eyes never leaving Kate. The smile that had once played on his lips was gone now, replaced by something far more serious. His voice dropped, losing its earlier lightness, becoming something quieter but harder to ignore.

“Non, chère,” he said, his tone low and measured. “That ain’t what I asked.” His gaze sharpened, fixing on Kate with an intensity that made her shrink slightly under its weight. “Who’s Steve?”

Kate froze, her pulse racing in her ears. She knew exactly what Remy was asking now. He wasn’t interested in some random security guy. He was asking about Steve’s connection to you. And from the way Remy’s eyes bore into her, it was clear he already had his suspicions. This wasn’t a passing curiosity—Remy felt something, even if he hadn’t put a name to it yet.

The silence stretched between them, thick with tension, and Kate could feel her palms beginning to sweat. She swallowed hard, trying to think of the right thing to say, but her brain was moving too fast, her thoughts tangling together. She knew she had to be careful here. But panic, like it always does, betrayed her.

“They’re just friends,” she blurted out, her voice too quick, too loud. The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Remy’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, a subtle but clear indication that he wasn’t buying it. Kate’s stomach dropped, and she rushed to explain, her words coming out in a panicked tumble.

“Honestly! They’ve got this… weird thing. It’s always been like that since the day he started. They joke around a lot, but it’s nothing serious. I swear.”

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She had definitely said too much now, and she knew it. Her mind raced, replaying what she’d just said, and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut. She had just confirmed there was something between you and Steve, even if it wasn’t what Remy had been imagining. She had given him a thread to pull on, and from what she knows about Remy, he wasn’t going to let it go.

Remy stayed silent, watching her with that same unnerving intensity. His fingers stopped tapping against his lip, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her. There was no anger in his expression, no outward sign that he was upset—but his silence was heavy, filled with a quiet, simmering curiosity that felt more dangerous than any outburst.

Kate shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her apron again. She wanted to say something else, something to take back the words that had already slipped out, but she knew there was no point. The damage was done.

Remy’s eyes flickered toward the gaming room for just a moment, as if considering something, before returning to her. His voice, when he spoke again, was soft, but it held a weight that made her stomach twist.

“A ‘weird thing,’ huh?” His accent curled around the words, slow and deliberate, like he was tasting them. His lips quirked into a faint smile, but there was no humor in it. “They joke around a lot, you say?”

Kate nodded quickly, desperate to stick to her story now. “Yeah, yeah. It’s like… I don’t know, they’ve got this banter. It’s always been like that. He flirts with her, she flirts with him back. It’s just how they are. But it’s nothing serious, really. They’re just friends.” Her lips fell into a straight line once that came out. She knew what she just said. She just hoped you made it quick when you did kill her.

Remy leaned back again, his gaze drifting from Kate to where you were standing behind the bar, laughing with another bartender. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in thought. He wasn’t jealous—that much was clear. But there was something about the way you moved around Steve, the way you smiled when he was near, that piqued Remy’s interest.

He tilted his head, his fingers resuming their idle tapping against the armrest of his chair. “Hmm,” he murmured, “So they just got a lil’ banter, is that it?”

Kate nodded again, her throat dry. She could feel the weight of her mistake pressing down on her, but there was no way out now. She had already put her foot in it, and all she could do was hope that Remy would let it go. But one look at his face told her he wouldn’t. Not yet.

“Right,” Remy said softly, his eyes still on you. “That’s all it is, huh?”

Kate could barely breathe. The way he said it—it was like he was testing her, seeing how far she’d go to stick to her story. She nodded one last time, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. That’s all.”

Remy’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to her, his smile returning, though it was small and unreadable. “D’accord, chère. I believe ya.” But the way he said it—it wasn’t a confirmation. It was more like an acknowledgment that the conversation was over, at least for now.

“Merci,” he added, his tone softening as he gave her a dismissive wave. “Go on, get back t’ work. Don’t let me keep ya.”

Kate didn’t need to be told twice. She nodded quickly, mumbling a quick “Thanks” before turning and hurrying back toward the bar. Her heart was still pounding, and she could feel the sweat clinging to the back of her neck as she moved. She cursed herself under her breath, knowing that she’d said too much.

As she put distance between herself and Remy, she couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder. He was still watching you, his expression thoughtful, almost calculating.

Remy wasn’t angry. But he was curious now. And that, Kate realized, might be even worse.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, his eyes never leaving you. There was no jealousy in his gaze, no possessiveness. Just a quiet, simmering interest. You weren’t an open book to him—you were a puzzle, and Remy loved puzzles.

He smiled to himself, a slow, deliberate smile, as he watched you from across the room. <><><><><><>

It wasn’t the rush that made you hate the lunch shift. The crowd wasn’t the biggest you’d face during the day—not by a long shot. Dinner and night shifts were much worse, especially on weekends when the small, dimly lit club in the basement opened up, drawing in waves of people eager to drink and dance until the early hours of the morning. That kind of chaos, you could manage. You *liked* managing it, in fact. The steady surge of orders, the challenge of keeping up with the pace, the way the energy of a packed bar felt like a living thing, charged and exhilarating.

But lunch? Lunch was different.

It wasn’t just the noise. It wasn’t just the sheer volume of people that filled the space. It was the kind of patrons lunch brought in. The ones who weren’t just loud—they were rowdy, boisterous, and far too handsy for comfort. There was something about the middle of the day that made people drink more aggressively, like they were trying to drown out the daylight itself, as if the brightness outside was something they needed to escape from. You always noticed it—the way they knocked back their drinks faster, ordered another before the first was even half-finished. By the time the second round hit them, the noise level had already soared, and conversations turned into shouting matches over the bar.

And then came the touches.

It was subtle at first, almost innocuous. A hand brushing too close when you leaned over to hand them their change. A casual touch on your arm as someone slurred a compliment at you. But as the hours dragged on and the drinks piled up, those touches became more frequent, more insistent, making your skin crawl. The way some of them leaned over the bar, their eyes glazed and too familiar, made you want to retreat. There was a different energy in the air during lunch shifts—one that rubbed against your nerves and left you feeling raw by the end of it.

So naturally, you hated the lunch shift.

Today was no different. As you caught your breath behind the bar, taking advantage of a brief lull, you wiped your hands on your apron, exhaling slowly. The air was thick with the smell of spilled beer and liquor, the sticky residue of too many drinks mixed with the faint scent of sweat from the crowd. The cacophony of voices had died down for the moment, but you knew it wouldn’t last. It never did.

From your left, you felt someone approaching before you even saw them. A presence that cut through the noise of the bar like a blade. Sharp. Commanding. Unmistakable.

Abigail.

Her arrival was always like clockwork—each step precise, deliberate, the steady click of her heels on the wooden floor like a metronome. Even in the middle of the chaos, she moved with an air of control, like the bar itself bent to her will. In her hand, she carried her ever-present clipboard, its edges worn from constant use, filled with lists and notes you could only imagine were as meticulous as she was.

Without so much as a glance in your direction, Abigail stopped beside you, her eyes already scanning the paperwork in front of her. She was always focused, always thinking several steps ahead, mentally checking off tasks before you even realized they were on the list. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, not a strand out of place, her tailored suit as crisp as ever, even in the stifling heat of the bar. The only thing that seemed to move freely about her was the pen she twirled absentmindedly between her fingers, a constant reminder that she was already planning her next move.

She didn’t even look up from her clipboard as she spoke. “We need to restock the top shelf whiskey,” she said, her voice smooth but firm, cutting through the din of the bar. “And the IPA keg is about to run dry. Can’t afford to let that happen again.”

You nodded, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. “I’ll take care of it.”

Abigail hummed in acknowledgment, still not looking at you. To her, it wasn’t a conversation. It was just another task on a long list of things that needed to be done. You weren’t sure if she ever truly saw you—or anyone, for that matter. She was the kind of person who existed in her own world, where efficiency and control were paramount. The noise, the chaos, the human element of it all seemed to roll off her like water, never sticking.

But you couldn’t let it roll off you. Not today.

You glanced around the bar, your eyes flicking over the patrons still lingering, their voices rising again as the brief lull came to an end. The rowdy energy was starting to build back up, like a wave gathering strength before it crashed. A group near the end of the bar had started laughing too loudly, their hands gesturing wildly as they sloshed their drinks around, already half-drunk despite the early hour. One of them—a man in a rumpled button-up shirt, tie askew—leaned over the counter, his eyes tracking you as you moved.

Abigail, of course, didn’t notice. Or if she did, she didn’t care.

“Make sure the inventory numbers are updated before the evening shift,” she continued, her pen flicking across the clipboard as she made another note. “We’re running behind, and I want it sorted before the weekend rush.”

You nodded again, but your attention was elsewhere. The man at the end of the bar had stood up now, his drink abandoned as he made his way toward you, his steps slow and unsteady. Your stomach twisted, the familiar knot of unease tightening as he approached.

Abigail’s voice droned on, calm and steady, completely oblivious to the growing tension in the air. “Also, I need you to—”

“Sorry,” you interrupted, your voice tense as you stepped away from her and toward the man before he could get too close. “I need to handle something.”

Abigail blinked, finally glancing up from her clipboard. Her gaze followed yours to the man now leaning against the bar, his eyes glassy, a lazy grin spreading across his face. She didn’t say anything, but the faint arch of her brow told you she had noticed him now. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t stop you. She didn’t need to. This was your job, after all.

You took a deep breath and moved to the man before he could get any closer, plastering on your best customer service smile. “Can I help you?”

He smirked, his eyes drifting down to your apron, then back up to your face. “You can help me with a refill, sweetheart,” he slurred, leaning in closer than necessary. His breath reeked of alcohol, and you had to resist the urge to pull back. “And maybe with a little… company?”

Your smile tightened. This was what you hated about the lunch shift—the way it brought out the worst in people. The way it made you feel like you were always one step away from something you didn’t want to deal with.

“I’ll get you that refill,” you said, your voice strained but polite, “but for the rest, you’re on your own.”

The man laughed, a loud, obnoxious sound that grated against your nerves. But before he could say anything else, you felt Abigail’s presence beside you again—this time, unmistakable. She stepped forward, clipboard still in hand, but now her eyes were on the man, cold and calculating.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked, her tone devoid of warmth, but not unkind. It was the kind of voice that commanded attention without needing to raise it.

The man blinked, his grin faltering as he looked between you and Abigail. Something about her presence—her sheer, unflinching authority—seemed to sober him up, if only for a moment. He straightened, muttering something under his breath before slinking back to his seat.

Abigail didn’t watch him go. She didn’t need to. Her attention was already back on you, her expression calm and composed, as if the little scene that had just played out was nothing more than a minor disruption in her meticulously organized world. “Get the refill,” she said quietly, her tone business-like. “Then take five.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief reprieve. The tension in your shoulders eased just a fraction, though the knot in your stomach remained tight. You turned to grab the man’s drink, but as you did, you couldn’t help but glance at Abigail from the corner of your eye. She was already back to her clipboard, her pen moving swiftly across the page, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. To her, it probably hadn’t. She was used to handling these situations with quiet authority, never letting anything faze her.

But for you, it was just another reminder of why the lunch shift always left you feeling on edge.

As you reached for the bottle, Abigail’s voice cut through the air again, sharp and clear—though not unkind. “Wanda—” she began, referencing the red-haired waitress who had helped you clean up after your little… incident the other night. You winced at the memory. “—she’s coming in to take over for you.”

You froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” You glanced instinctively toward James, who was working a few seats down the bar, pouring drinks for a couple who barely acknowledged his presence. He caught your look, shrugged casually, and went back to his task, clearly just as clueless as you were.

Abigail, however, didn’t miss a beat. She flipped a page on her clipboard, her pen clicking as she made another note. “You’re going to take over for Kate so she can go on her break,” she said, flat and matter-of-fact, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked, trying to process. “Take over for Kate?” The question felt ridiculous on your tongue, and yet there it was. “Why me?”

Abigail’s eyes snapped up from her clipboard, fixing you with a look that said she wasn’t asking a question—she was giving an order. And it was clear that there would be no arguing. Her expression remained neutral, but her gaze was sharp, piercing through any resistance you might have thought about mustering.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, her voice cool, her tone making it very clear that this wasn’t a conversation. It was a directive.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words that slipped out were not the ones you’d planned. “Did Kate put you up to this?” The second the question left your lips, you regretted it. You knew you’d crossed a line. Abigail’s face didn’t change, but her eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—narrowed ever so slightly, like a predator honing in on weakness.

For a long, excruciating moment, she didn’t say anything. The air between you seemed to grow thicker, heavier, the noise of the bar fading into the background as her gaze locked onto yours. There was no anger, no raised voice—just that terrifying calm Abigail always carried, the kind that made you feel like you were a step away from falling off a cliff.

Finally, she spoke, her voice dry and pointed. “Now why would she do that?” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, but there was an undercurrent there. An unspoken understanding that hung between you like a weight. She didn’t need to spell it out. You knew. She knew. Kate knew exactly what she was doing by sending you upstairs, and Abigail wasn’t oblivious to it, either.

And the reason?

He was sitting up there right now, lounging in the VIP section, sipping on a bottle of wine that probably cost more than your rent, his arm casually draped around a woman who wasn’t you.

The question wasn’t rhetorical, nor was it open for debate. Abigail’s pen scratched against the clipboard again, her eyes never leaving yours. “Just make sure you’re not tipping any trays of glasses on people today,” she added, her voice as cutting as ever. “I’ve had to file enough paperwork for you to last the rest of the month.”

You couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile that tugged at your lips, though the weight in your chest didn’t lift. “Oh, we’re still mentioning that?” you asked, your attempt at humor falling flat even to your own ears. You knew it was a losing battle, but you couldn’t help trying to lighten the mood. The incident from last night—the one where you had quite literally tipped an entire tray of glasses onto a patron—was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Clearly, Abigail wasn’t about to let it go anytime soon.

Abigail raised an eyebrow, her expression sharpening, though a faint glimmer of amusement flickered in her eyes. To your surprise, she actually smiled—a rare, thin-lipped smile that barely softened the edges of her usual severity. “Oh, this will be talked about and the footage shown to anyone who asks until the day you decide to leave here.”

You groaned softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again. The humiliation of last night still stung, and the idea of it becoming some kind of permanent inside joke made your stomach churn. Apparently, there would be no living it down anytime soon.

Abigail gave you one last look before nodding toward the stairs that led up to the VIP section. “Off you trot,” she said briskly. “And make sure you’ve got your radio on you. Just in case.” She paused, her gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “You know how lunch gets around here. If anything happens, call Steve.”

The weight of her words settled heavily on your shoulders. Just in case.

You knew what she meant. You didn’t need her to say it outright. It wasn’t the lunch crowd she was worried about. It was him. Remy. The implications of being up in the VIP section with him, even for just a short time, hung in the air between you. There was always an edge of danger when it came to him, a sense that anything could happen—and that you weren’t entirely sure you could handle it when it did.

Abigail flicked her pen one last time before turning and marching off, her heels clicking against the floor in a precise rhythm, leaving you standing there with a deep sigh. Your gaze followed her retreating form until she disappeared into the back, and then it drifted upward, toward the staircase that loomed like a shadow over the rest of the bar.

Of course. Of course you were being sent up there. Kate had likely orchestrated the entire thing, knowing exactly what she was doing. She had probably seen the way you’d tensed when Remy walked in earlier, the way your eyes had flickered with something—jealousy? Curiosity? Longing?—when you saw him with that woman.

And now here you were. No escape, no excuses.

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest as you started toward the stairs, weaving your way through the crowd of oblivious patrons. The further you walked, the heavier the air seemed to become, like the atmosphere itself was thickening around you, pressing down on your lungs. By the time you reached the foot of the stairs, your pulse was racing, your chest tight with anticipation and anxiety.

You didn’t want to see him.

But the truth was, you did. You wanted to see him more than you cared to admit, even to yourself.

As your hand gripped the rail and you took the first step up, you tried to push the swirling thoughts from your mind. You reminded yourself, as you had a thousand times before, of who he was. Of what he was. Remy LeBeau was trouble—pure, unfiltered trouble. The kind of man who could ruin you without even trying. You’d seen it happen to others, had watched him charm his way into someone’s life and leave chaos in his wake. You knew better.

And yet, despite all the warnings, despite everything your brain screamed at you, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. The magnetism. The way he seemed to draw you in, like a moth to a flame, even when you knew you’d get burned.

The woman upstairs with him? She didn’t matter. Not really. Not when you knew that Remy didn’t let anyone get too close. Not when you knew that whatever connection you felt with him—whatever it was—it was fleeting. Temporary. A momentary spark that would never be allowed to catch fire.

But even as you told yourself this, you could feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach, the anticipation curling inside you as you climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

Because the truth was, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a part of you wanted to see him again. And that terrified you more than anything else.

Because no matter how hard you tried to deny it, no matter how much you told yourself that Remy LeBeau was bad news, there was no escaping this truth: part of you didn’t care if being near him burned you.

You just wanted to feel the heat.

<><><><><> The VIP room, perched on an indoor balcony that overlooked the bustling main bar below, felt like a world apart—an oasis of luxury and exclusivity suspended above the chaos. Every detail of the space was carefully curated to exude opulence, from the grand chandelier that dominated the ceiling to the rich, dark leather couches that invited the wealthiest patrons to sink into their embrace. The chandelier’s crystals caught the warm, amber light, scattering it in delicate patterns that danced across the room, casting everything in a soft, intimate glow.

The polished mahogany tables, sleek and gleaming under the low light, were arranged in such a way as to provide small pockets of privacy—secluded alcoves where secrets could be whispered and deals could be made. At the far end of the room, a sleek bar stood as a monument to indulgence, stocked with the kind of premium liquors most people could only dream of tasting. Behind the bar, Kate worked quickly, her hands moving with practiced efficiency as she prepared drinks for the waiting woman who sat nearby, her expression one of disinterested impatience.

The air was thick with the clinking of glasses, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter that felt just a bit too loud, too exaggerated. It was the kind of laughter that came from people who were playing a role—performing wealth, status, and power for the benefit of those around them. These were people who lived in a world of appearances, where every gesture, every word, was calculated to maintain an image. Even the murmurs of conversation carried a certain weight, as if each word exchanged was part of some intricate, high-stakes negotiation.

But despite the hum of activity, your attention was inexorably drawn to one particular table—the one that always seemed to catch your eye, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

As you ascended the stairs to the VIP section, your pulse quickened, that familiar combination of anticipation and trepidation settling deep in your chest. You hated how easily your body reacted to him, how the mere thought of his presence could send a ripple through your nerves. It frustrated you, the way he seemed to have this magnetic pull that you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he was someone you should avoid. Someone dangerous. Someone who was nothing but trouble.

And yet, like gravity, he pulled you in, a force you couldn’t quite escape.

The moment you stepped into the VIP room, you felt it—the shift. Remy straightened ever so slightly in his seat. It wasn’t a dramatic movement, nothing overt that would draw attention, but it was enough. Enough to tell you that he’d seen you the second you walked in. That small, subtle shift sent a jolt through you, a silent acknowledgment of your presence, a reminder that Remy LeBeau was always aware of you. Always watching.

He sat with his usual air of relaxed confidence, his posture loose and lazy, one arm draped over the back of the leather couch. But there was something simmering beneath the surface, a tension in the way he held himself, as if he were a coiled spring waiting to snap. The stubble that shadowed his jawline added a dark edge to his already sharp features, giving him an air of menace that was impossible to ignore. His lips were curled into a subtle, knowing smirk, but it was his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—that truly set your nerves on edge.

They followed your every movement, slow and deliberate, like a predator watching its prey. There was something in his gaze that made your heart pound harder in your chest, though you couldn’t quite decide if it was from fear, excitement, or something far more dangerous.

Seated next to him was a woman who, under any other circumstances, would have commanded the room effortlessly. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk, and she was stunning in that way only wealth and confidence could craft. Her high cheekbones, full lips painted a deep, sultry red, and flawless skin seemed to glow under the soft lighting. She wore an emerald-green dress that clung to her body like it had been made specifically for her, its plunging neckline designed to draw attention. Every inch of her screamed elegance and poise, and yet, despite her beauty, there was a palpable disinterest in her demeanor.

She lifted a delicate forkful of food to her lips, her movements slow and deliberate, but her eyes never once flicked toward Remy. In fact, she barely seemed aware of his presence at all. Her other hand idly toyed with the strap of her clutch, her manicured fingers tapping against it in a rhythmic pattern. It was as if she were above it all—above him, above the room, above the entire situation. She was playing her part in this little performance, but her heart wasn’t in it.

The contrast between them was stark.

Her indifference was practiced, almost rehearsed, like she knew exactly how this game worked, and she didn’t need to try anymore. She was here for appearances, for the look of it, not for any real connection. But Remy? He wasn’t interested in her, either. Not really. His body language made that clear. He leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made the rest of the room seem to blur into the background. It was as if the woman beside him didn’t exist, as if she were nothing more than a beautiful prop in a scene that didn’t require her presence.

His attention, whether you wanted it or not, was entirely on you.

You hated the way your pulse raced in response, the way your skin prickled under the weight of his gaze. It made you feel exposed, vulnerable, even though you were fully clothed and standing in a room full of people. Remy had that effect on you—he made you feel like you were the only person in the room, like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built around yourself.

And that terrified you.

Your feet carried you toward the bar, your movements automatic, but your mind was spinning. You told yourself to focus on the task at hand, to keep your head down and do your job. But as you passed by his table, you couldn’t help but feel the pull—the gravitational force that seemed to bind you to him, no matter how hard you fought against it.

Remy’s lips curled into a smile as you neared, a lazy, knowing smile that reached his eyes, making them gleam with something dark and dangerous. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to.

The woman beside him didn’t even glance up. She was too busy pretending not to care.

But Remy? He cared. He cared in a way that made your stomach twist with equal parts dread and desire.

Kate was practically vibrating with anticipation, her grin sharp and knowing as she leaned over the bar, brimming with whatever delicious gossip she was about to drop on you. You could feel her eyes on you, her excitement barely contained, like she’d been waiting all night for this moment.

She took a quick glance around the room—more for show than out of any real need for secrecy—and her voice dropped to a hushed tone, as if she were about to share state secrets. “Okay, so,” she began, her tone laced with that familiar edge of exasperation. Her eyes flickered toward Table 7. “Our friend over there is about to be cut off. The guy’s been downing whiskey like it’s water, and he’s well past the point of making a fool of himself.”

You followed her gaze to Table 7, where the man in question was gesturing wildly with his drink, his voice carrying a little too loudly over the low hum of conversation. He was already starting to slur his words, and you could tell it wouldn't be long before he became a problem.

Kate rolled her eyes, her lips pulling into a thin line of annoyance. “I’ve already had to remind him twice that this isn’t a frat party. If he gets any louder, I might just throw him out myself.”

You nodded, mentally filing away the warning. You’d clocked the guy the moment he ordered his third double in less than an hour. He was a disaster waiting to happen, and you didn’t envy the poor soul who’d have to deal with him once he hit his breaking point.

But Kate wasn’t finished.

She jerked her head subtly toward another table, her tone shifting, a little more serious now. “Table 9—that one’s a little weird. The guy’s been feeding his date margaritas like it’s some kind of competition. I don’t like the vibe. Something’s off.”

Your eyes darted to Table 9. The man was leaning in close to his date, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, but her expression was distant, her eyes slightly glazed over. The laughter didn’t reach her eyes, and the unsettling feeling that had been gnawing at you all night suddenly sharpened. The gut feeling Kate mentioned washed over you, too—a heavy, sinking sensation that made your stomach twist.

“Keep an eye on her, will you?” Kate added, her voice low but firm. “I’ve got a bad gut feeling about it.”

You nodded again, this time more seriously, making a mental note to swing by their table more frequently. Something about the way the man’s hand rested on his date’s arm, possessive and a little too tight, made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to wait until something went wrong.

But Kate wasn’t done, and you could tell by the glint in her eyes that she was saving the best for last.

She shifted her weight, pointing a casual thumb over her shoulder toward Table 2. Her expression softened just a little, the edge of her usual sarcasm giving way to something almost tender. “Oh, and Table 2 is celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. Vis wanted to send them a special dessert, something on the house. Make sure it gets out to them, okay?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. You’d noticed the couple earlier in the night, their fingers intertwined across the table, still holding hands like they were teenagers in love. Table 2 had been nothing but sweet and polite all evening, and you were happy to make their night a little more special. A soft moment of kindness in the middle of all the chaos.

But just as you were about to respond, Kate’s grin widened into something positively wicked. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. You could tell by the way she was savoring the moment that this was the part she’d been waiting for.

“And of course...” She paused dramatically, drawing out the suspense, her smile growing even more smug. “Your favorite person in the world is being the least interesting man in the room tonight.”

Your heart sank, the familiar tightness settling in your chest. You didn’t need to ask who she meant. The sinking feeling told you everything. But instead of letting on, you raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference as you waited for her to spill the rest.

Kate’s eyes gleamed as she said his name, her tone dripping with mock reverence. “Remy LeBeau.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Just hearing his name was enough to send a ripple through you, but you kept your expression neutral. Barely.

Kate, apparently oblivious to your internal turmoil or maybe just enjoying it too much to care, continued with a smirk. “Him and his date? Zero chemistry. Seriously. They’ll talk for maybe thirty seconds, she’ll look at her phone, and he’ll go back to doing his whole brooding, mysterious thing.” She placed a hand over her heart in mock adoration, sighing dramatically. “Which, let me tell you, I’m a little surprised about. I figured he’d at least pretend to care—flash that charming smile, maybe throw a few of his smooth lines her way.”

Kate paused, letting the moment hang between you like a spark waiting to ignite something much bigger. You could see the gleam in her eyes, the way she was savoring this. And then, with a smug little smile, she dropped the bomb.

"But nope. You know what he did ask me about earlier? Steve."

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Steve?” What does Remy care about Steve?

Kate’s grin got impossibly wider, clearly enjoying every second of her revelation. “Yeah. Well, not about Steve exactly.” She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice as if she were about to share some great secret. “He was asking all casual-like, ‘Who’s that who just walked into the gaming room?’ And me, being the genius that I am, go, ‘Oh, that’s Steve. He’s head of security’” She rolled her eyes dramatically, clearly amused by her own mistake. “And then it hits me—he wasn’t asking about Steve. He was asking about you.”

Your stomach twisted, a knot of anxiety tightening into something sharp. The realization hit like a wave crashing over you, cold and relentless. Remy hadn’t been interested in security, not really. He had been fishing, and Kate—without even realizing it—had handed him exactly what he was looking for.

You felt your heart rate pick up, a strange mix of anger and unease threading through your veins. Of course Remy would find a way to get under your skin without even trying. But what really got to you—what really pissed you off—was Kate's casual slip-up.

“Jesus, Kate,” you muttered, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “You didn’t tell him about Steve and me, did you?”

Her smug expression faltered for a split second, and then she gave a sheepish shrug, biting her lip as if trying to contain a laugh. “Well... I might’ve mentioned the whole ‘flirting thing.’ You know, the way you and Steve are always at each other’s throats but in, like, a cute flirting way.” She waggled her eyebrows, clearly not reading the room—or at least, not your mood. “I figured it was harmless. I mean, come on, it’s an open secret around here. Everyone knows you two have that whole back-and-forth thing that isn’t going anywhere going for you.”

You could feel the heat rise in your chest, not from embarrassment but from frustration. The last thing you needed was for someone like Remy to get the wrong idea about your relationship with Steve. While the banter between you and Steve was mostly harmless—a few playful jabs here and there—it was yours, a private dynamic that kept things light on the long, grueling shifts. It was certainly not something you wanted to be shared with someone like Remy, who would no doubt twist it into something else, something he could use to needle you.

“Kate,” you said, your voice strained. “He’s Remy LeBeau. He doesn’t need more ammunition.”

Kate’s grin faded slightly, her expression softening as she noticed the real tension behind your words. She shifted her weight, her tone turning more serious. “I didn’t mean to put my foot in it,” she said, voice quieter now. “I just thought... well, you know. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to rein in the frustration that was bubbling up inside you. It wasn’t Kate’s fault, not really. She didn’t know the full extent of what you were dealing with when it came to Remy. She didn’t know how he always seemed to be one step ahead, always watching, always figuring out ways to dig deeper under your skin. She saw him as everyone else did—a little dangerous, sure, but charming enough to make it seem harmless. But you knew better. You’d felt the weight of his attention, the way he could turn the simplest conversation into something that left you unsettled and thinking about it long after he’d walked away.

“I know,” you said finally, your voice softer now, the edge of anger replaced with something more resigned. “But he’s not... he’s not like the others. He’s trouble, Kate. Real trouble.”

Kate gave you a long, searching look, her smirk returning just a little, though there was more understanding behind it now. “Sure,” she said, drawing the word out like she wasn’t buying your explanation for a second. “But whatever it is, it’s got him asking about you. And I’m just saying... that doesn’t happen for no reason.”

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the flurry of emotions rising up inside you. “It’s not a thing,” you said, more to yourself than to Kate. “He’s just... he’s just trying to mess with me. That’s all.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Mess with you? That’s what you think is going on here?” She eyed you for a moment longer, then shook her head with a small, knowing smile. “Whatever you say, hon. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye on that one. He’s asking questions—and he’s watching you like a hawk. You can’t tell me that doesn’t mean something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat. Because, deep down, you knew Kate wasn’t wrong. Remy’s attention wasn’t random. It wasn’t casual. And that fact alone was enough to unsettle you in ways you couldn’t quite explain. “It isn’t whatever the fuck you think it is,” You mumbled to yourself as you moved around the bar.

Kate raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, her eyes dancing with amusement. “If you say so,” she said with a casual shrug, though her knowing grin never wavered. She stepped back, handing you the order tablet with a little flourish. “Go on, then. Try not to make it too obvious when you stare him down, okay? People are starting to talk.”

You shook your head, refusing to take the bait, though your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I don’t stare,” you muttered under your breath, but Kate was already turning away, making her way towards the stairs, clearly enjoying your discomfort. You tried to shake it off, focusing on the task at hand, but the question Kate had planted in your mind lingered. Was there something else simmering beneath the surface? Something neither of you was quite ready to confront?

You had barely even made your first drink when you saw him approach.

Remy leaned casually against the bar, handing you an empty glass with that same effortless confidence that always seemed to follow him. His eyes flicked down to your hand, and you could feel the weight of his attention settle on you, even as you focused on pouring a drink for the blonde woman beside him. She smiled her thanks before walking away, leaving you alone with him—the man who had been the source of all the uneasy feelings building inside you.

“Th' usual,” he said smoothly, his voice low and rich with that familiar Cajun drawl. A grin tugged at his lips, but the look in his eyes was different—more intense, sharper. He leaned in closer, his presence filling the space between you, and despite the casual tone, there was something about the way he looked at you that made your stomach twist, your pulse quicken.

You reached for the bottle from the top shelf, trying to ignore the way your hands trembled ever so slightly as you poured the drink. As you set the glass in front of him, you could feel his gaze lingering on you, like he was waiting for something—something you weren’t sure you were ready to give.

Before you could say anything, Remy’s hand reached across the bar, his fingers brushing yours as he gently took your hand in his. His touch sent a jolt through you, soft but firm, as he turned your hand over, his eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on the wound on your palm.

“Wha’ happen’, chère?” His voice was lower now, concerned, the playful tone from earlier replaced by something more serious. His thumb traced lightly over the slightly swollen skin, the small movement sending a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you froze, heart stuttering at the warmth of his hand against yours. The gentleness of his touch was unexpected, and it stirred something inside you—an unfamiliar flutter that made you feel both vulnerable and guarded all at once. You pulled your hand back reflexively, bringing it close to your chest like you could shield it from him.

“Just… had an incident yesterday,” you mumbled, trying to sound casual, though your voice wavered slightly. “I cut myself.”

Remy’s eyes never left yours as he asked, “How?”

His gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, and for a moment, you considered telling him not to worry about it, that it was none of his business. But the intensity in his eyes—the quiet way he seemed to search for something deeper—made it impossible. You sighed, looking away, your shoulders slumping slightly.

“I dropped a tray,” you admitted softly. “Cut my hand cleaning up the glass.”

Remy’s expression didn’t change much, but there was something in the way he studied you—something that felt too perceptive, too knowing. His eyes lingered on your face, tracing over every line, every flicker of emotion that passed through you. The weight of his stare made your chest tighten, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed under his scrutiny.

But then, he gave a small nod, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. “Gotta be careful wit’ tha’,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost gentle. He didn’t push for more, didn’t pry or lecture—just acknowledged it with that same easy-going tone, as if he understood that the conversation was over.

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, though your heart was still racing. You slid his drink across the bar, trying to compose yourself, but the knot in your stomach only tightened with each passing second. Remy was still watching you, his gaze heavy, unreadable, and the weight of it made the air feel thick around you. There was something unsaid between the two of you—something that had been gnawing at you since Friday night.

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, driven by a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Why’d you give me that money?”

It came out quieter than you intended, but the vulnerability in your voice was impossible to hide. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pull back, to shield yourself from whatever answer he might give. “I don’t have anything to offer you for it.”

Remy’s eyes flicked up to yours, and for a fleeting moment, something shifted in them. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—like he understood more than you were ready to admit. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. When he set the glass down, his smile softened, the usual cocky edge replaced by something quieter, something real.

“Was a tip,” he said simply, his voice softer now, the drawl in his words less playful and more sincere. “Y’ did good on Friday nigh’.”

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “Not that good,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Not enough for a tip like that.”

A small, knowing smile curled at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stayed fixed on yours, steady and unwavering. “Maybe y’ did,” he replied, his voice low and sure, like he was stating something obvious. “Bu’ either way, chère, y’ don’ owe me nothin’.”

His words hit harder than you expected, catching you off guard. There was a sincerity in his tone that you hadn’t anticipated, and it lodged itself deep in your chest, unsettling you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You wanted to argue, to push back against the strange kindness he was offering, but the way he looked at you—like he saw past all your defenses—made it impossible. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond to Remy’s steady gaze. His sincerity had thrown you off balance, and the weight of his words had left a strange warmth in your chest. Before you could even formulate a response, Remy tipped his head back, finishing the last of his drink in a single, smooth motion. The glass clinked softly against the bar as he set it down, and without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away—back to his waiting date.

You watched him, feeling the energy between you shift abruptly, like a door closing with a soft yet definitive click. His date, the brunette with her perfectly styled waves and an emerald-green dress that hugged her like she’d stepped out of a fashion editorial, had been watching the entire interaction. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked between you and Remy as he sat down. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—curiosity, maybe, or amusement—but whatever it was, she kept it carefully masked behind an air of cool detachment.

She looked at Remy as if expecting some explanation, some acknowledgment of the strangeness of what had just occurred. But he didn’t give her any. He didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, one arm draped casually over the back of his seat. His attention had already shifted, as if the brief exchange with you was all he needed for the moment, like it had been a checkmark on a list, a box neatly ticked.

The room buzzed with noise—laughter, clinking glasses, the low hum of conversation—but it all seemed to fade into the background as you stood there at the bar, frozen in place. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of the strange feeling that settled over you, a feeling you couldn’t quite name but that gnawed at your insides nonetheless.

Remy’s words, few as they were, lingered in the air around you. They echoed in your thoughts, replaying on a loop—the tone of his voice, the way he said your name like he had known you far longer than the two times you have crossed paths, the way his gaze seemed to cut through every bit of armor you’d built around yourself.

And that touch—just the briefest brush of his fingers against your hand—still ghosted on your skin. It wasn’t the touch itself that unnerved you; it was the intent behind it. It wasn’t flirty, not overtly seductive like the Remy you’d heard about. It was something else. Something quieter, more deliberate, like he was trying to convey a message you weren’t quite ready to hear.

For the first time, you wondered if there was more to Remy LeBeau than the swagger, the effortless charm he used like a weapon. Maybe, just maybe, there was something deeper lurking beneath the surface—something he didn’t show to just anyone. And maybe, just maybe, he saw something in you that you hadn’t yet seen in yourself.

As that thought crept into the far corners of your mind, you stood frozen at the bar, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment replayed itself over and over in your head. His words, his touch, the way he looked at you—not with the casual interest that he might’ve shown anyone else, but with a focus that made your skin prickle, made you feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You weren’t used to that. You were used to blending in, to keeping your head down, to being just another face in the crowd. But with Remy, it was different. He had a way of zeroing in on you, of making you feel like the only person in the room, even if only for a moment. And that feeling… that was dangerous.

It was dangerous because you knew who Remy LeBeau was. He was the kind of man people warned you about—the kind of man who could get under your skin, who could make you forget who you were if you weren’t careful. He was dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm and everything to do with what he could do to your heart, to your mind.

And yet, here you were, standing at the bar, replaying every subtle nuance of the brief conversation in your head as if it meant something—something more than just a casual exchange between two people who happened to be in the same place at the same time.

You didn’t know what to make of it, or of him. But one thing had become clear to you in that moment: Remy LeBeau wasn’t just dangerous because of the things you’d heard about him. He was dangerous because he had a way of making you want to know more, of pulling you in even when every part of you knew you should stay away.

And as you watched him lean back in his chair, his eyes flicking briefly toward you before settling somewhere in the distance, you realized that the real threat wasn’t Remy himself.

The real threat was what you might do if you ever let yourself get too close. You watched as Kate sauntered back from her break, a smug smile plastered across her face—the kind of grin that made it clear she’d enjoyed herself way too much. She slid behind the bar with the casual ease of someone who’d just spent the last thirty minutes indulging in something delicious.

"God, I love the Chinese place down the street," she sighed dramatically, leaning against the counter like she was about to launch into a monologue. "I swear, their noodle dish? Life-changing."

You chuckled, placing a glass in the washer. "Careful, Vis will be heartbroken hearing you rave about someone else’s cooking."

Kate snorted, waving a hand dismissively. "Vis can live with it. Besides, I needed something to break up the monotony of this shift." She leaned further into the bar, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the polished wood. "Speaking of monotony, you’re free to go save poor, hard-done-by James, who’s been spending the last ten minutes scrubbing someone’s vomit off the floor."

You winced in sympathy. "Better him than me," you muttered, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the shift. You went to move, but Kate’s persistent finger-tapping on the bar caught your attention. Her eyes were a little too bright, and her lips were pursed in that familiar way that told you she was sitting on something she was dying to say.

“What is it, Kate?” you asked, turning to face her fully.

She hesitated for a moment, her mouth twitching as if trying to decide whether it was worth saying out loud. But Kate was never one to hold back, and before long, she looked like she was on the verge of bursting. Finally, she leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So... did you talk to Remy?"

You rolled your eyes, a mix of irritation and amusement bubbling up inside you. Of course that’s what was on her mind. "Have a good afternoon, Kate," you said, brushing her off with a playful tone as you moved past her.

You didn’t wait for her response, heading down the stairs and back to the main floor. The bar had quieted considerably since earlier; the rowdy patrons had either left or settled into a calmer rhythm, leaving the room feeling almost peaceful. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the space, but it was a far cry from the chaos you’d seen earlier.

You approached James and Nat, who were standing by the bar, both looking like they were done for the day. James was just finishing loading the last tray into the washer, his face twisted in the kind of grimace that spoke volumes about the unspeakable things he’d had to deal with. Nat stood beside him, arms crossed over her chest, her expression neutral, but you could see the exhaustion in the way her shoulders slumped slightly. Still, there was a hint of amusement in her eyes, visible only if you knew her well enough to catch it.

"How’s it going?" you asked, leaning casually on the counter next to Nat.

"James is traumatized," she replied dryly, though you could hear the teasing edge in her voice. "You missed quite the show."

James groaned dramatically, casting a look of pure disgust in Nat’s direction as he wiped his hands on a towel. "If I never have to deal with that again, it’ll still be too soon."

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, you’re almost done. Just clock out and try to erase the memory. Pretend it never happened."

James rolled his eyes but grinned, tossing the towel onto the counter. "Easier said than done."

Nat shot him a sideways glance, her lips quirking up into a small smile. "I’ll help distract him," she said, her voice softer now, more playful. "We’ve got plans this afternoon."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah? What’s on the agenda?"

Nat uncrossed her arms and leaned against the bar, her posture relaxing slightly. "We’re heading down to the riverwalk. There’s this new place—well, new to me—where you can rent bikes or take a boat. Figured we’d check it out, get some fresh air, maybe have lunch by the water."

James nodded, though he still looked half-dead from the day’s work. "If I don’t pass out first," he added, earning a light elbow jab from Nat.

"Don’t be dramatic," she teased, rolling her eyes. "A little sunshine will do you good."

You smiled at the thought of Nat and James spending the afternoon together. It was rare to get a break from the constant grind of work, and the idea of them sneaking away for a few quiet hours by the river seemed perfect. You could hear that subtle excitement in Nat’s voice—the kind she didn’t show often, but when she did, it was impossible to miss.

"Sounds like a perfect plan," you said, glancing at your watch with a dramatic sigh. "I’ve still got a whole afternoon here, so I guess I’ll just go die in a corner somewhere." You grabbed the list of tasks that still needed to be tackled before the night shift took over, waving it like a white flag of surrender.

Nat chuckled, shaking her head. "At least you’ve got good company." She gestured toward Steve, who was standing a few feet away, deep in conversation with one of the security team, his arms crossed over his chest in that casual yet commanding way.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "Yeah, he can be okay sometimes," you teased, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed more than your words did.

James snorted, drying his hands with a clean towel. "Don’t tell him that—you’ll inflate his ego."

"Too late," you quipped, casting a glance toward Steve, who seemed to sense your gaze and gave you a small, curious look from across the room. You quickly turned back to Nat and James, grinning. "Besides, a little ego boost never hurt anyone."

Nat raised an eyebrow, catching the playful edge in your tone. "Careful," she said with a smirk. "Flirting on the job is a slippery slope."

"Who, me?" you said, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

James shook his head, tossing the towel onto the counter. "Alright, enough of that. Let’s get out of here before this conversation gets dangerous."

Nat chuckled, giving you a quick wave. "We’ll see you later?"

"Yeah," you nodded, giving them both a mock salute. "Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

James grinned, his arm casually draping around Nat’s shoulders as they made their way toward the door. "That leaves us with a lot of options, doesn’t it?"

You laughed, watching them go, feeling a warm sense of contentment settle over you. They deserved the break, and it felt good to see them heading off to enjoy some time together.

As the door swung shut behind them, you turned back to the list in your hands, ready to dive into the never-ending tasks of the day. But before you could get too far, Steve wandered over, his presence as steady and noticeable as always.

"Looks like they’re off to have a nice afternoon," he observed, leaning casually against the bar next to you.

"Yeah," you said, glancing up at him with a smile. "Some of us aren’t so lucky."

Steve tilted his head, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "I don’t know, seems like you’re doing just fine here."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Oh, yeah, you know me—just living the dream behind the bar." You paused, then added, "Speaking of which, I heard you’re going to your sister’s place next week?"

Steve nodded, and there was something so genuine about the soft smile that crossed his face. His eyes seemed to warm at the thought, the kind of smile that made you forget, for a second, the chaos of the bar around you. "Yeah," he said, his voice carrying that quiet sincerity he was known for. "Heading out for a few days. Haven’t seen her in a while. Figured it was time."

You couldn’t help but tease him, your lips curving into a smirk as you gestured around the bar with an exaggerated sweep of your arm. "Going to miss all this?" you asked, mock disbelief in your tone. "How could you possibly survive without the endless excitement of dealing with customers, broken glasses, and, of course, vomit?"

He laughed—a deep, rich sound that somehow made the room feel smaller, like the world had momentarily shrunk to just the two of you standing there. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed always got to you, even if you’d never admit it. "Yeah, it’s gonna be tough," he said, shaking his head as if the thought amused him. "But I think I’ll manage."

You leaned against the bar, feeling the cool wood press against your palms, and tilted your head slightly as you looked up at him.

"You sure?" you asked, the playful edge in your voice hiding the undercurrent of something more. "Because, you know, I could always tag along. Make sure you don’t get too bored."

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made you want to take a step back. His grin widened, that easy confidence of his coming to the surface as he leaned in just a fraction, lowering his voice as if you were the only two people in the room. "I think I’d enjoy the company," he said, and there was something in that tone, something teasing but also sincere, that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you quickly covered it with a playful smile, your eyebrow arching as you fought to maintain your composure. "Careful what you wish for, Rogers," you shot back.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and you could feel the weight of it. But before either of you could say anything else, the moment was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching the bar. You straightened up instinctively, pulling away from the invisible thread that had been tethering you to Steve.

Remy strode into the bar, his presence as magnetic as ever, but now, there was something different in the air around him. It was as if a storm had followed him in, darkening the space with a tension you could almost feel on your skin. If Steve’s energy was like a calm breeze, steady and grounding, Remy’s was the opposite—intense, electric, and demanding attention. He didn’t need to say a word; his mere presence was enough to shift the atmosphere.

You noticed it immediately. The easygoing swagger that usually accompanied him, the smooth confidence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, was gone. His movements were stiffer, more deliberate, as if he was holding something back. His dark eyes scanned the room, but when they locked on you and Steve standing by the bar, something flickered behind them—something raw, something unsettled.

"Hey," you greeted him, trying to keep your tone light, but even you couldn't ignore the sudden weight in the air. There was an edge to Remy right now, one that hadn’t been there before when you saw him. The playful banter that had existed between you and Steve just moments earlier seemed to vanish in an instant, like a candle snuffed out by a gust of wind. The room felt heavier, more charged, as if something unspoken had filled the space between all of you.

Remy’s eyes flickered between you and Steve, and you saw it—the brief tightening of his jaw, the way his gaze lingered on Steve just a moment too long. His usual charm, that effortless grin that could disarm anyone, was nowhere to be found. Instead, his expression was unreadable, dark, as if he were fighting to keep something buried beneath the surface.

You could feel it too, that subtle shift in the air. Remy had always had a way of commanding attention, but this was different. It wasn’t just intensity—it was something darker, more personal. As his eyes moved back to you, there was a moment where you thought you saw something flash in them—hurt… jealousy? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a rigid mask of indifference.

He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. His voice was low, clipped, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large bill. "Can you pass this to Kate for me?" he asked, his words sharp, like he was eager to get the interaction over with. His tone was so unlike the Remy you knew—smooth, charming, always with a joke or a teasing remark. There was none of that now. Just cold efficiency.

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Uh, sure," you said, taking the bill from him with a small nod. "I’ll make sure she gets it."

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, dark and unreadable. There was tension in the set of his shoulders, the way he stood as if ready to bolt or explode at the slightest provocation. And then, just as quickly, his gaze flicked toward Steve, something hard flashing in his eyes. It felt like a silent confrontation, a challenge neither of them was willing to voice.

Steve, to his credit, remained calm, his posture relaxed—though you noticed his blue eyes narrow slightly, as if sensing the shift as well. He didn’t say anything, but the air between the two men seemed to crackle with unspoken words, unacknowledged tension.

Remy gave a tight nod, his jaw still clenched, before turning away. His hand rested lightly on the back of his date as they moved toward the door, but even that gesture felt different—less affectionate, more mechanical, as though he was going through the motions. His usual fluid grace seemed absent, replaced by something colder, more deliberate, like a man who was forcing himself to keep control.

As you watched him go, the knot in your stomach tightened. The air between you and Steve felt heavier now, thick with something unspoken, as if Remy’s tension had seeped into the room and refused to leave. The moment Remy had appeared, the playful ease between you and Steve had evaporated, replaced by a strange, lingering weight.

Steve, who had been quiet through the entire exchange, finally spoke, his voice low and concerned. "Everything okay there?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he glanced at you with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something protective.

You shrugged, trying to shake off the strange vibe that had settled over you. "Yeah… fine," you said, though even as the words left your mouth, you weren’t entirely convinced. Something had shifted, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. It wasn’t just Remy’s sudden coldness, or the way he had looked at you. There was something deeper, something that felt unresolved.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, searching your face as if he could sense that something was off. He didn’t press the issue, but his presence beside you felt steady, reassuring in a way that made the knot in your stomach loosen just a little. Still, the unease remained.

As you glanced back toward the door where Remy had just left, the feeling gnawed at you. You couldn’t shake the way his demeanor had changed the moment he’d approached, or the way his gaze had lingered on you and Steve. Was it jealousy? Had he overheard the playful banter between you and Steve? Was that what had gotten under his skin? The thought made your chest tighten, and you wondered if you’d unknowingly crossed a line with him.

Remy had always been enigmatic, but this was different. There was something raw in the way he’d looked at you, something almost vulnerable beneath the surface of his coldness. And that vulnerability, that hint of something deeper, unsettled you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Steve leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping back into that familiar teasing tone, as if trying to pull you back from whatever thoughts were swirling in your mind. "So… where were we?" he asked, his smile warm, inviting you to return to the ease you’d shared before Remy had appeared.

You managed a smile, grateful for the distraction, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. Something had changed. The way he had looked at you, the way his usual charm had been replaced by something darker, more guarded—it all left a knot of unease in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel that whatever had shifted between you and Remy wasn’t over yet.

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