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roosterforme · 7 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You want a field trip to North Island for your class, and Bradley is determined to deliver. He loves how you decide to show him some gratitude. He'd love it even more if you stayed and never left.

Warnings: Fluff, language, unprotected sex, oral sex, smut, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley's alarm really pissed him off on Thursday morning. First of all, it went off an hour earlier than it usually did. And second, he had been sound asleep with your body tucked right up against him and his fingers laced with yours. When you began to stir as well, he kissed your ear and started to pull away from you.

"I'm sorry, Baby," he murmured, voice laced with sleep and something intimate that he never remembered treating anyone else to. "Go back to sleep."

You rolled over so you were facing him, and your lips found his immediately. You kissed him softly as your fingers pulled through his hair, and he wanted more than anything to stay here with you all day. "I can't go back to sleep," you whispered. "Not when I get to spend a few extra minutes with you."

In the very short time you and he had been officially in a relationship, he had let himself indulge in the idea that you'd be around forever. That you wouldn't change your mind about him. That you'd love him and let him love you back, like equal partners. And right now all he wanted to do was keep holding you while he also couldn't wait to get to work and try to start sweet talking his superior officers.

"I can't be late today, Gorgeous. Not if I'm going to try my best to make a field trip for your class happen."

Your eyes lit up and you squeaked softly. "You're right. Get the fuck out of here."

He laughed and then groaned. "It shouldn't be sexy when you have a potty mouth." He gave you one long kiss before finally pulling away so he could get ready for work.

"I'll make you breakfast," you whispered, climbing out of bed completely naked before reaching for his discarded sweatshirt on the floor. It was yours now in his mind, and he couldn't wait until it and you were both permanent fixtures in his bedroom. That was going to have to wait a bit though unless you brought it up first. He'd already dropped the idea that he wanted to marry you in front of your class.

"You don't need to make me anything," he said as he started to pull on his clean flight suit, but you were already walking out of the room.

Bradley finished getting ready as quickly as he could in your tiny bathroom, and when he made his way to your equally miniscule kitchen with his overnight bag, you were spreading cream cheese on a bagel and filling a purple travel mug that said #1 Teacher with coffee. "I'll see you tomorrow night?" he asked before taking a bite out of the bagel when you held it up for him.

"I mean... yes, I'll come right to your house from work tomorrow, but you'll see me before that." When he raised an eyebrow while he chewed, you shrugged and added, "I was planning on sending you a dirty picture while I get dressed."

Now both of his eyebrows were raised. "Yeah? How dirty we talking?"

All you said in response was, "I trust you to keep my job intact," before you kissed him and ushered him toward your door with his breakfast. "Go to work, and you'll find out soon. I love you."

"I love you, too, Gorgeous."

He would never get enough of your pretty face. He thought about it while he fought traffic going into San Diego and while crossing the bay bridge toward North Island. This drive sucked, but he'd do it every morning if it meant he got to spend the night in your bed with you. He also wanted to ask you to sleep over at his place during the week so you could test out traffic heading north.

When he finally parked on base, he didn't have to imagine your face any longer. He got to look at it in the picture you sent him twenty minutes ago. Along with your tits. Exchanging photos had always been a huge part of getting to know you while he was deployed, and he was delighted to find that the tradition continued.

"Oh my god," he groaned, needing to sit in his Bronco for a few extra minutes while he enjoyed the photo before ultimately saving it to his phone. Then he texted you back with a smirk before heading to the locker room.

Damn, Gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to spend a week in bed with that face and those tits.

Of course a honeymoon would be the perfect opportunity for that sort of thing. He dropped his bag off in his locker and made his way out to the hangar, running his hand over his face as he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind. As soon as he spotted Maverick, he made a beeline in his direction.

"Rooster," he greeted, barely glancing up from the clipboard he was holding. Bradley knew it was such a longshot, but he had to just go for it at this point.

"Hey, Mav, you have a minute?"He glanced up over his aviators and said, "Always. What can I do for you?" Bradley cleared his throat and tried to make sure he sounded as relaxed as possible. "

I was wondering if a fourth grade class could visit base for a field trip one day? Do a tour of the hangars and the tarmac? Maybe sit in a cockpit? Just an educational trip for some kids who are studying aviation."

There was a brief pause before Maverick asked, "Are you sleeping with a teacher?"

Bradley groaned, head tipped back as he rubbed his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Yeah. She's my girlfriend though, so it's a bit more involved than that."

Maverick sighed. "If I give you special permission for this, then everyone is going to want me to do the same for them. You know that." Bradley started nodding in defeat when Maverick took his sunglasses off and asked, "How many kids are we talking?"

"Eighteen," he replied immediately, straightening his back like he was standing at attention.

"Which school?"

"Mira Mesa Elementary."

Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see what I can do. Now get your helmet on and get to work."

------------------------------

You were finishing your lunch at your desk, about to send Bradley a text, when your phone rang in your hand. He was calling you in the middle of the day which was definitely odd.

"Bradley."

"Hey, Gorgeous," came his voice along with a ton of background noise. "Any chance you can bring your class for a field trip next week?"

Surely you misheard.

"Next week? You already got it approved?"

"Yeah." The deep, raspy rumble of his voice made you shiver. "Next Thursday work for you?"

You were on your feet, doing a little dance as you said, "You got it approved! I'll make it work. I'll type up permission slips right now. I'll call everyone's legal guardian tonight if I have to. We'll be there!"

"Perfect. Email me your complete class list so I can get visitor badges printed."

"Okay," you told him, glancing around like you didn't know where to start. "Right."

"I love you, Baby. Talk later."

He ended the call without another word, and you tucked your phone away before running a lap around your classroom. You wanted to go gloat to all of the other fourth grade teachers, but you wouldn't. You were absolutely certain that this only worked out because you were in a relationship with Bradley, so instead you got to work on the permission slips.

By Friday afternoon, your kids were beyond excited about their upcoming trip to North Island. You had secured eighteen permission slips, three chaperones and a school bus to take everyone down to Coronado next week. But today, you'd be driving there yourself to see Bradley. The traffic after work didn't even bother you as you drove to his house with both your overnight bag and your work bag. You had some quizzes to grade, but he promised you he didn't mind if you brought them along.

When you parked in front of his house, you grabbed your things and ran up to the front door which swung open before you could even knock.

"I just got home," he said with a laugh in his sexy khaki uniform and boots. "I was thinking about giving you a key in case you beat me here one of these days. Oh, shit."

You set your bags down just inside his front door and then had your hands tugging down his pants zipper before you leaned up to kiss him. As you pulled his cock free, you whispered, "I just wanted to thank you again."

You bunched Bradley's shirt up around his abs and dropped to your knees while the front door was still open, and he grunted before quickly closing it. "You don't have to thank me," he rasped as you kissed his cock, and he started to grow hard.

As you ran your nose along his length, you glanced up at him and asked, "You don't want me to give you a blowjob?"

His pupils were wide as he shook his head. "Could you imagine a world in which I didn't want you to give me a blowjob? Because I definitely couldn't."

You laughed and parted your lips. "Then let me say thank you, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

His big hand settled on the back of your head, giving you an eager push, and you took him deep as he groaned, "It's my pleasure, Baby. In so many ways."

He was velvety soft and warm, fully hard now, and you gagged as he bottomed out. You let your tongue glide slowly along his length until you pulled him free, saliva already dripping down to his balls. Then you took a deep breath and let him push you again, bobbing your head as your eyes watered. His balls were heavy in your hand, and your mouth watered more as you thought about tasting him.

When you looked up at his handsome face with your mouth full of his cock, he stroked your cheek with his free hand. "So gorgeous. So perfect." He was flushed pink, and you vaguely thought for a second about how funny it would be if Vanessa showed up right now to see this happening.

You let your hands settle on his hips, and you bobbed your head until he was tapping the back of your throat again. Bradley's sharp gasp just made you go harder, and his fingers digging gently into your hair made you go faster. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes glued on your lips as you let him pop free. You licked a swirl around his tip before going deep and sucking until your cheeks were hollow, and you could feel him throbbing with need.

"I'm really close," he crooned as you squeezed his hip. You listened to him panting as you stroked his balls with your thumb, and then you sputtered when he came. You swallowed him down as you wrapped your fingers around his base and jerked him off until he had his hand braced on the wall for support. Every drop of his cum was swallowed down, and you kissed his cock when he was finished.

"Come here," he whispered, reaching for you before doing anything else, and as you stood, he scooped you into his arms. His lips collided with yours, and you sighed as he tasted himself in your mouth. "That was hot."

Bradley's nose bumped yours as he kissed you harder and started to walk you further into his house. "We could always do it again later," you whispered with a laugh as you ran your fingers along the sheen of sweat along his hairline.

"I have other plans for you for later," he promised, voice deep and dark.

"Tell me," you whispered, but he shook his head.

"You'll find out after I cook dinner."

"Can I have a hint?"

He glanced to the side and nodded as you walked through the living room with him. "Another couch date. Kind of."

"I love couch dates."

"I love you."

Bradley made you a grilled cheese sandwich, and he made two for himself, and you stood in his kitchen with him while you ate and sipped a beer. He didn't even bother to finish zipping up his khakis after tucking himself away, and he kept you in his grasp as he told you all about what he wanted to share with your class during the field trip.

"I can take them on a tour of the hangar," he murmured, kissing your cheek. "Let them listen in on air traffic control. Do you think they'd want to sit in my cockpit?"

"Bradley," you said with a laugh. "Of course they would want to! I want to!"

"Yeah?" he asked, running his mustache along your neck. "Maybe you can sit on my lap in my cockpit? I could show you my throttle."

Your face felt warm as you whispered, "You'll get me a lifetime ban from North Island."

"Can't have that," he said solemnly, shaking his head. "When you're on summer break, I'm going to want you to come visit me at work all the time."

Butterflies erupted in your belly as you pictured yourself in six months. Visiting him at work would be incredible. You could stop by with a coffee like he had done for you, and maybe you could take one for Natasha as well. But you were also thinking about how he casually announced to your class that he intended to marry you in the not so distant future.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt the front of his unzipped pants through the fabric of your shirt. "I'm not driving back and forth to Coronado every day during my break, Bradley."

He smiled at you and said, "Understood. You can just spend the night as much as you want. I'm right by the beach, so you can sunbathe all day until I'm done working, and then I'll take you out to Salvatore's or cook dinner for you."

"Or we can just hang out on the couch," you whispered, your lips brushing his.

"Speaking of the couch..."

-----------------------------

"Harder."

Your voice filled the living room along with your little grunts and moans as Bradley held your hips in place. You were bent over the arm of the couch with your ass up in the air, fingers digging into the cushions while he fucked you. For as sweet as you were, he loved you like this just as much. Loud and needy for him.

The sound of his body slapping against yours was already obscene, but if you wanted it harder, he'd let you have it. He was yours in every sense of the word, and he would make sure you knew it. "Does that feel good?" he crooned, watching your pussy grip his cock. "It looks fantastic," he grunted.

Your response was unintelligible but enthusiastic, so he kept going until he was close and your legs were shaking. The blowjob you gave him earlier seemed to take the edge off, because as soon as he started rubbing soft circles on your clit, you came for him, but he wasn't quite there yet. He slowed his pace down, let himself enjoy the feel of you shaking and squeezing him. He could have probably gone longer, but then you turned and looked up at him over your shoulder.

"That was so good," you said with a shaky voice, "I saw stars."

"Oh hell." He came inside you as you chewed on your lip and looked at him like you'd never get enough. "Come here." You stood with your back pressed against him while he was still buried deep. "You want to snuggle?"

"Always," you whispered as he peppered kisses to your shoulder. And then the two of you ended up on the couch, and it was sweet again as you curled up mostly on top of him while he drew shapes on your palm.

And that's how the whole weekend was. On Saturday, the two of you spent a few windswept hours on the beach, wrapped in a blanket together, talking and laughing. But after the sun set and the sky turned that pretty pretty color that looked both blue and orange at the same time, your lips found his.

"Gorgeous," he groaned, hands on your thighs, feeling your warmth through your jeans.

"I love you," came your immediate response, and Bradley could barely contain himself. He wanted everything with you, but he was afraid of moving any faster than this already pretty blistering pace. But even thinking about the nights this week when he'd have to fall asleep without you and wake up alone were creeping into the back of his mind.

He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I love you too, Gorgeous. And I'm just going to say this one time, and then I'll let you bring it up again if you feel like it."When he paused, you said, "Okay," in a soft voice, and he took a deep breath.

"If we ever reach a point where you think you want to move in with me, that would make me very happy. You already have a key now, but if you want it to be even more permanent, I would love that."

"Oh," you gasped, and he suddenly wished he hadn't said anything about it. "My lease ends in January."

"January," he repeated, like it was a word he was unfamiliar with.

"Mmhmm. In about two months." You kissed his cheek and wrapped his hand up in yours. "That seems reasonable, don't you think?"

Bradley let you push his shoulder playfully until he was laying on his back, and then you were in his arms just like you were on the first date. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," he whispered as the sound of your soft laughter mingled with the crashing waves.

"At least give me a chance to test out the commute to work," you said with a kiss.

"I'm not in a hurry, Gorgeous. I'm just in love."

-----------------------------

You didn't get home from Bradley's house on Sunday night until almost eleven, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it. He helped you grade your quizzes, and he read over your lesson plans like it was a bestselling novel. Then he made you a snack after dinner and went over the plans for the field trip.

"I'll take care of everything this week," he had promised. "I'll get visitor's badges for everyone, and you'll just need to go through the security checkpoints when you arrive. Your kids will have a blast. Just wait until they get to watch Marty work on an engine rebuild."

"The kids are going to lose their minds when they see your Super Hornet," you had promised. "And I will, too. I was already falling for you when you sent me the cockpit photos, and now I'm head over heels."

After that, Bradley carefully folded up your lesson plans and put them in your bag while you tried to hide your smile. And that's why you got home so late. Because the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other for more than a minute.

But it made for a long Monday. And your Tuesday wasn't much better. By Wednesday, even the phone calls and texts with Bradley were barely enough to keep you going. You hated thinking about his next deployment, but it was always at the back of your mind. He wanted you to move in with him, but even his beautiful house in Coronado wouldn't save you from feeling devastatingly lonely the next time he was on an aircraft carrier. Nothing would.

He told you he wanted to drive up and spend the night with you on Wednesday, but he was yawning nonstop over the phone, and you knew he would have to get up earlier if he came up to your apartment. "You sound as exhausted as I feel, and I'm going to see you in the morning anyway," you told him as you curled up in your bed." Actually all nineteen of us are going to see you in the morning."

"I love my pen pals," he said with a laugh. Then he repeated your words from so many weeks ago. "Do you still want me to kiss you as soon as I see you?"

"Bradley," you moaned, rolling onto your side. You were melting, and he wasn't even here. "I always want that."

"Good, because I don't think I could... Oh shit!" he shouted, and it sounded like he dropped his phone.

"What's wrong?" you asked, jolting up in your bed. "Bradley?"

"No, no, no," came his voice, but you could tell he wasn't right next to his phone speaker. He actually sounded scared, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be going on, and then he said, "There's a fucking spider on my bedroom wall!"

"Oh," you replied, letting out the breath you'd been holding.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?! Why aren't you here?!"

"Bradley, just squish it with some paper towels," you told him, trying not to laugh at his panicked voice.

"You want me to take my eyes off this fucking thing to go to the kitchen? I don't think so!"

You pressed your lips together and composed yourself before asking, "How big is it?"

"It's huge! The size of a quarter!" he shouted. "It's moving!"

"Bradley, pick up one of your boots or a shoe and smash it," you told him as calmly as you could. "You can do this."

"Okay. Okay, right. Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded even more distant. "I can do this." There was a terribly loud thump, and then he said, "I hate this so much."

"Is it dead?" you asked cautiously.

"Yeah, but I'm too scared to sleep in here now. What if its family shows up for revenge in the middle of the night?"

You snorted and collapsed back onto your pillow. "That seems a little dramatic."

"Does it?" he asked. "Because this is something you should be taking care of for me. I'll take care of anything else, but this one thing is on you, Baby."

You started to pull your shirt off as you asked, "Would you feel better if I sent you another dirty photo?"

"I would feel a lot better if you sent me a dirty photo," he said, and now you could tell he was smiling.

"Hmm... you think you'll be able to get some sleep if I do?" you asked, tossing your shirt aside.

"A full eight hours."

You held your phone up, smiled sweetly, and snapped a picture. "Let me know when you get it," you said as you texted it to him.

A few seconds later, you giggled as he groaned. "Got it. You look like perfection, and I love adding these to my top secret folder," he muttered. "Thank you."

Now you were yawning as you pulled your sheet up to your chin. "You're welcome. I'll see you in ten hours. I love you."

"Love you, Baby."

-------------------------- You thought you were prepared for the field trip to North Island. You had bus snacks, and responsible chaperones. You had copies of all of the required paperwork that the Navy insisted you fill out ahead of time in a folder. You even had a list of all of your kids for the guard station officer which Bradley reminded you to bring. But nothing could have actually prepared you for the excitement that all nineteen of you clearly felt when the school bus pulled up to the gates with the airstrip directly in front of you.

"Whoa!" said Jayden, trying to hang out the window for a better view. "There's a jet taking off!"

All of your kids scrambled to the right side of the bus to get a better look, and you did too. The aftermath of the takeoff was loud, and you signaled for everyone to cover their ears as they all watched the aircraft soar into the sun.

"Do you think that was Lieutenant Bradshaw?" Nia asked excitedly as your heart raced.

"No," you replied as you watched the jet fly off into the distance. "He said he would meet us after we parked in the visitors lot." When the bus started moving up to the guards, you waved your hand for everyone to sit down again. "But if you're all really well behaved, I'm sure there will be some surprises for us today!"

When it was your turn to talk to the guards, you climbed out of the bus and handed over all of your paperwork. They double and triple checked everything. As they looked at your school ID and driver's license, one of them said, "This location requires top clearances. We hardly ever see field trip groups. Someone on base must really like you."

You thought about Bradley and his kisses and his couch and how he wanted you there to share his bed and always take care of the spiders. "Yeah, that's pretty accurate," you told him with a smile, and he handed you a bundle of lanyards. Hanging from each one was a visitor's pass for each of your students as well as four for you and the chaperones. "Thank you."

Even as you handed each kid their pass and told them they needed to wear them at all times, your heart raced in anticipation. They were all looking back at you with wide-eyed excitement; these were the faces of kids who had learned a lot in your classroom already this year. They were as eager to learn more about aviation today as they were months ago, and you were so happy that Bradley had been a big part of this whole experience.

As the bus driver parked, you saw your boyfriend through the window, standing tall next to the building. He was in his flight suit, and his back was ramrod straight. There were two other officers with him, and they had even more pins on their uniforms than you remembered seeing on his. You needed to reel in your expectations, especially in front of the men who you assumed were Bradley's bosses. But when you smiled, Bradley smiled back. And when you led your students down the steps and over to the sidewalk, his posture relaxed.

"Welcome to North Island," he told your kids with a grin. Then he looped one arm around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you in front of everyone. "I can't wait to show you everything."

--------------------------

The field trip of my dreams! Okay, so we are definitely going to see Marty at work, but what else should the kids get to experience? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

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yunniestars · 4 months ago

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peach mango pie 🥧

pairing: kinich x chef!reader tags: fluff, kinich is a bit grumpy here but we cool, based off that one tiktok i saw around 4 months ago but i forgot where it is now, implied insomnia, not proofread (i think i've never proofread my works help), the title is based on what i wanted to cook for a while already and i did (i'm actually eating it right now)

as a hunter, kinich usually suffices with just meat and berries he caught in the wild. he doesn't care about the quality as long as it is edible and it fills up his stomach (not too much though to avoid feeling too full). ajaw has complained multiple times about this but kinich reprimands him that they can't just slack off during a commission to cook a 5-course meal, much to the dragonlord's rage.

which is why when he met you, ajaw was ecstatic. you would always give so much treats to the point kinich reprimands you to not spoil ajaw too much.

jokes on him, though, kinich is guilty of being spoiled too. you always make sure he eats 3 meals a day while also checking if the food won't be a hindrance to him when he goes out for commissions. nevertheless, though, kinich is super grateful for your kindness.

so whenever kinich comes home after a long day, he would always await for whatever meal you had prepped up for dinner and hug you tiredly. in exchange, he does the dishes so you won't have to carry the burden of cooking the meals and doing the dishes.

kinich is thankful, he really is, but there's just one thing that concerns him.

୨୧

it's 3 am and kinich woke up from a bad dream. it was you leaving him for some fontaine boy, without even telling him the reason of why you broke up with him.

he was looking for your presence, about to panic because you weren't there, but then he started to smell something from the kitchen.

"oh god not again."

he immediately gets up and the moment he steps out the door, he sees you holding a tray of red velvet cookies. not only that, but he spots another tray which seems to be bagels stuffed with hotdogs.

you turn to see him looking at you with an expression that only you know that means "disbelief". he looks nonchalant, but really he's just ??? about why you're baking at 3 am AGAIN.

"good morning," you smile and take a bite off a cookie.

"why are you cooking at 3 am again? can't sleep?" he approaches you with slight worry. he's concerned about how you'd suddenly wake up at ungodly hours in the evening just to bake.

"mhm," you nod and let him embrace you. "and i was craving for the bagels we ate last week."

kinich sighs while ruffling your hair. "you couldn't wait till morning?"

"i felt the wayob telling me to do it now."

he chuckles and caresses your face, wiping the velvet crumbs off your face. "you probably misheard the wayob. you need to sleep, love."

you sigh and rest your head on his neck. "not tired..."

as you say that, kinich rolls his eyes because every time you say that, he ends up carrying you back to the bedroom while you sleep. which was what was happening right now, before he could even get the chance to tell you about it.

he sets your body gently on the bed, caressing your sleepy face and admiring how peaceful you look despite of the amount of desserts you baked just now.

kinich then sighs. that's another thing he has to worry about. where is he supposed to store the newly baked desserts when there's still 5 boxes from last time?

well, he'll just clean up for now and struggle it alone. what matters is that you're getting the amount of sleep you deserve right now.

"sleep well, my dearest."

[ written with love, yunniestars. ෆ ]

a/n: rahhh thanks for reading!! im really thankful for each time u guys read my work, it gives me lot of motiv hehe. one question though, how do u guys think kinich will say "love"? like the equivalent of "mon coeur?

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #natlan x reader #kinich #kinich x reader #kinich fluff

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nouearth · 4 months ago

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love in the making.

grant gustin x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the talk of the town is the production of a new picture starring hollywood's elite star, grant gustin and his co-star, you! as the chemistry between you and grant escalates, so do the tabloids, and the executives aren't happy. what will happen to your relationship with grant when the studio takes matters into their own hands?

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 13.6k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 mid 1950s!au 〳 coworkers!au 〳 movie star!grant 〳 up and coming actor!reader 〳 smoking 〳 yearning 〳 slow-burn(?) 〳 gossip columns 〳 soap opera type of drama 〳 sexual content: top!grant, bottom!reader, anal penetration, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), praising, body worship, snowballing.

The leathery smell of cigar permeated the room. Grant added to the thickness in the air with several puffs, then suddenly modulated his breath when he realized it was his turn to run through his lines.

“Pardon me, Katharine. Your voice was so mesmerizing, I nearly fell to a slumber. Where were you when my mother ran out of bedtime stories to tell?” Grant cleared his throat, fulfilled by the laughter scattering from one person to the next while Katharine Scott, the leading lady of the picture, turned scarlet.

He began reading his dialogue.

It was half of the truth. Grant just didn’t bother mentioning that you’d been on his mind since the minute you walked in and introduced yourself -- that would’ve garnered a peculiar reaction. Aside from the screenplay, Grant’s eyes often meandered to you when they needed a break. The words on the script were beginning to scramble like alphabet blocks.

Before the tables were pushed together for the read-through, he noticed how your feet were crossed at the ankles, toes tapping to a rhythm he never noticed. In moments where the writer consulted with the director about the wooden dialogue, Grant could hear your muted taps speed up. Were you nervous? You had to be; you only had your foot in the industry for barely more than a year -- which was apparent.

You still had that humility in your smile.

Maybe it was frustration? Grant chewed on a pen he was holding as he attempted to decipher those pursed lips of yours. It was the color of flesh -- as it should be -- but why did he find them so… entrancing? It wasn’t just the color that got to him, but also the texture. They looked soft, really soft, as you ran through your lines with Katharine. Soft like your voice when you said your name for the first time. Soft like the grip of your handshake, which Grant knew you were well-aware of because you suddenly tensed your fingers at his fingers, nails into his palm, to compensate for your lack of callous. Soft like the ham and cheese bagel he had this morning, you would bite your own lip from how indistinguishable the bread roll and your mouth were from one other.

He chewed harder at the thought. Why does Grant want to see that happen?

“Grant? It’s your line.”

When Grant’s vision focused harder on your lips, he realized your mouth was aiming directly at him. Separating and closing, all for him. He immediately perked up.

“What—oh. Right. Where were we…” Grant felt warmth creeping up his neck, rubbing at it to ward off the heat. He only made it worse as it climbed to his chin and mouth, the taste of heat almost perceptible when he fought it off with a lick of his lips. “Gross, what the hell is—“

Metallic, acidic, and bitter on his tongue -- it was a taste that made him fully alert to the blue stain on his script. Then quickly after, the peculiar heat dripping off the corner of his mouth.

“Grant, you have—“ He watched you conceal a gasp when he turned to you, but your eyes -- everyone’s eyes -- made it perfectly clear that he needed to break this habit of chewing pens.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will excuse me…”

He should’ve listened to his mother when he was little.

“Just my luck…”

Grant was bent over the sink, scrubbing away at his face with a soapy hand. He was dressed down to his undershirt, figuring he’d address the stain on his dress shirt later in the evening.

It was almost like there was an invisible force field around his chin because the ink stain was refusing to wash out. Grant was certainly in a better position than before, but he could still make out that splotch of grey-blue, muted from his unrelenting efforts to look somewhat presentable again.

“Grant, you all right? I’m coming in,” He recognized your voice immediately and perked up at the prospect of seeing you again, even if he really ought to know better than to be happy to see someone in this predicament.

Especially a handsome one.

“I think it’s coming off, you think? Could be my flesh that I’m tearing away at, but if it works…”

It was natural to glance at someone when they enter the bathroom. Humans are naturally inquisitive people. Innovation and evolution weren’t the result of keeping to oneself. What wasn’t natural was staring, particularly when it came to a man’s face, which seemed to have been exasperated from adrenaline.

You were panting and heaving as you made your way to counter. Grant took notice of your necktie, swinging from side to side with every step you took. You must’ve forgotten a tie clip. If not, then it must’ve fallen sometime between the moment he left the room and you entering the bathroom.

He had to admit, you looked—

“Keep at it and you’ll find the city of Atlantis,” you stifled a chuckle when Grant washed off the soap suds again, only to reveal what many would presume to be a rather strange five o’clock shadow.

Well, half of one.

“Speaking of finds,” he grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry his face, then nodded towards the paper bag that you had set on the counter. “What’s the loot?” Grant asked, partly because he wanted to distract you from watching him any longer and because he was simply curious.

Once again, inquisitive people drove evolution. In this context, Grant would like to get to know you more -- for the sake of the motion picture, of course.

“Went to the general store and thought you might need these,” you began unpacking the bag one by one.

A package of bar soap, a tin of cold cream, and a modest bag of assorted fruit chews. “Soap? We have soap right here.” Grant recognized the logo on the bag, there was a candy store west of the studio lot. He wondered where you went first. Did you get hungry during your brisk shopping trip, or was the general goods store on the way and you needed to kill time?

“Yes, well, that’s hand soap. You need Ivory soap, which is hydrating and better for your face. Hand soap will dry you out.”

He also wondered why you were helping him out. Not that people don’t go out of their way to help a celebrity of his status, but often, he could tell when someone was contriving flattery.

“What about the tin?” Grant asked. With one hand, he picked up the tin and analyzed the engraved packaging against the light.

You began rummaging through your bag of fruit chews. “Cold cream. It’s what my mother uses to remove her makeup. Use that before you wash your face. It should help melt the stain,” Pink wrapper, it was a strawberry chew. Grant deduced that it also must have been your favorite flavor since you searched high and low for it, flicking past the greens, blues, oranges, and yellows.

Replaying it back in his mind made him chuckle. He had been inside the candy store before, usually spending a few cents on chocolates for his dates. Still, the store was a marquee for locals who wanted to self-serve their candy bags and that hadn’t gone unnoticed. A buffet of confectionery to put it persuasively, which made Grant laugh again at the thought of you picking out the strawberry chews.

You could’ve avoided the trouble by not packing the other flavors at all.

“It’s for women… ‘She’s engaged, she’s lovely, she uses cold cream,’” The irony of the tagline shared a brief fit of laughter between you and Grant.

It felt good to hear you laugh, even if it was quite apparent that you were restraining yourself to lower the chances of choking on a fruit chew. Death was inevitable as much as it was arbitrary, and Grant was not letting a handsome man like yourself be the first case of ‘death by candy, and a badly timed joke.’

Besides the point, you were benign. Your knowledge in women’s beauty products caused a case of interest, and that made Grant want to excavate your formality even more.

“You look like you belong in the Looney Tunes, Gustin. That should be the least of your worries,” he watched you primp yourself in front of the mirror, minor adjustments to your hair where the gel had fallen loose. “Anyway, I’ll get us some lunch. They said we’ll resume in a bit. You like salami? I know a place that makes a great Italian sandwich. Good fries too.”

With autumn approaching, the weather was only getting windier. By dint of the way a strand of hair fell delicately over your forehead like the stem of a cherry, Grant figured he should make amends with the upcoming season if it meant he would be seeing more of you fixing your tousled hair.

“Actually—wait for me, yeah? I prefer dining in for lunch, can’t stand soggy fries,” Grant opened the tin of cold cream and was instantly hit with a whiff of nostalgia -- something of gardenia and vanilla all at once. He must have smelled this at his mother’s vanity at some point in his life.

“Well, you must hurry because I had nothing but double the allotment of caffeine. I feel like Lucy in that one run where all she had for dinner were mints,” you were referencing an episode of I Love Lucy, adjusting your tie in between glances.

He slathered on the white paste and rubbed at the stain on his chin. Grant wouldn’t have guessed this was part of a woman’s nightly routine. If he ignored the floral notes, the product resembled shaving cream for the most part.

“‘There’s nothing quite like a good after-dinner mint,’” Grant quoted a line from the same episode you had mentioned. In retrospect, he was glad he shelled out a couple hundred bucks for the hottest commodity of the decade. He had never seen someone’s eyes light up the way yours did.

If the building was set on fire and everyone had to be evacuated, Grant wouldn’t have known by virtue of your radiant smile -- it was disorienting. Whether or not he would’ve made it out in time… the matter of the fact was that his fate was entirely dependent on you, and Grant was surprisingly at ease with that proposition.

You cleared your throat when it registered that the stare shared between the two of you had stopped you in your tracks, Grant in his. The silence was almost tangible. Grant wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at your eyes, then your nose, and then your lips again. That information served no purpose, only to embarrass him with the strong chance that it might’ve been too long.

Much too long for him, he began noticing your delightful cologne and not the smell of floral and vanilla. If he took a step closer, maybe he could—

“You can wash it off now. I’m curious to see if it works.”

For now, Grant was content on watching you at arm’s length, eating your favorite piece of candy and laughing as you tidied yourself.

It seemed like he was only beginning to scratch the surface.

It had only been a little more than a week of principal photography, but Grant was quick to inform himself of the director’s social cues. Sucking in his bottom lip meant that something regarding the scene was off -- whether it be the lighting, the wrinkle in a shirt, the fumble of dialogue, or the stiff movement of the actors. He was a meticulous man, stopping a take when Grant’s hair wasn’t as slicked back as he had envisioned. Imposing at times, but the general kindness kept the set rather freeing.

Today, Grant received a firm nod behind the camera.

“You got a light?” Grant asked with a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets only to leave with empty hands. He pulled a chair next to where you had been studiously scribbling notes on your script. He couldn’t have read it if he tried -- and he had tried once -- chicken scratch hadn’t left your fine motor skills anytime soon.

“Uh-huh. Every apartment has one if you find the right landlord,” you said dryly, flashing a cheeky grin and continuing to annotate the script in your hand.

“Cute,” he snickered while you fished a lighter out of your pant pocket. It wasn’t your scheduled smoke break yet, it was often reserved right before lunch. You figured that you mind as well get one out of the way since the clock was nearing lunch time anyhow.

Lighting up your cigarette, you drew in a breath of tobacco and felt it cloud over your brain after, tempering the stress signals with warmth. “Here,” your thumb remained on the flint wheel while your free hand hovered over the flame to block the desk fan. The wick of fire bridged the distance between you and Grant as you both leant forward to ignite his cigarette.

His hand rested on yours, gently bringing the lighter closer to the end of his cigarette stick, and stabilized itself until the tobacco was lit.

It shouldn’t have felt intimate. It was probably from the smoke, wasn’t it? The type of buzz that made Grant hallucinate all and everything around him -- black crows if he was in a troubled sate. In this case, it was the tremble of your hand when Grant held it, unsteady like the lighter’s flame before you had capped it. It was the look you gave him, aggravated if it was from most men, but almost imploring on your end. It was the silence that bestowed between the two of you, the type where Grant knew you could tell he was staring at you now, because you began scribbling arbitrary patterns on the margins of your script.

He should probably tell you that the scribbles were merging with your annotations, but Grant had to be careful. Otherwise, he was going to open his mouth and give you an earful of lunacy, starting with “Your hands are cold” and ending with “Can I hold them for longer?”

“So, what’s for lunch today?” You asked, stretching your arms overhead. Grant watched your fingers closely as they fanned out and held nothing but air.

“I could go for a hamburger. You?”

“Something light for me… think I’m coming down with a bug. My stomach suddenly hurts.”

Grant regretted letting go now.

“We missed you at shooting today. And yesterday. And the day before that. Mainly Wilder though—he likes how you can get scenes done in one take.”

You were caught off-guard hearing Grant’s voice through the handset. Even if he was calling from the other side of town, there was something about his presence that made you sit up and spruce up your surroundings, not forgetting your own appearance, of course.

“Well, that’s comforting. I’m sorry—how exactly did you get my telephone, Grant? Where are you calling from?” It must have been the hoarse sound of your voice that made Grant laugh into the handset. You could see it now, his smile.

“Don’t worry about that—and from my hotel. What you should be worrying about is your health. Why are you still up?” Grant started out lighthearted at first, but then muttered, like the weight of his concern strung his voice along.

Really, you ought to sleep. The positive of being sick meant that you could leisure all day and not feel guilty about watching television, even if you had outdone your daily average by a margin. The negative? Your senses were heightened by tenfold, which was ironic because your sinuses were blocked. That didn’t matter whatsoever. What did matter was that you kept waking multiple times throughout the night because your bed was either too warm, too cold, too soft, or too hard.

Now, sleep was as elusive as seeing Grant. It had only been a couple of days, yet you began to feel off -- which could be another symptom of the flu in hindsight.

“It’s wash day. I’m soaking my clothes as we speak,” you flicked off the television to hear Grant better. The rain was pouring down hard on your window.

“You do your own laundry?” Grant asked. He sounded genuinely astonished.

Picturing his expression alongside, you couldn’t contain your laughter any longer. “I am an adult, Grant.” Your toes said otherwise as they wiggled in your socks in complete bliss.

Hearing Grant’s voice was a much-needed energy boost -- way more effective than the oranges you had been eating, but not on par with the programs you had been watching. He’ll get there soon.

“I usually have my housekeeper do it for me,” he confessed.

It was no surprise. You read all about it in the papers before, how the wealthy hires a live-in help, or a nanny if the household contained a family with more than enough kids. They were all cut from the same cloth either way.

“And have you noticed any silk ties going missing?” You asked in jest.

“Now that you mentioned it—“ Before Grant could finish, you laughed, picturing his expression screw into realization that he hadn’t worn his red necktie in a bit.

Objectively, it made sense. The last thing you would want to do is clean the bathroom after coming home from work. It was a luxury you would like to have the option to afford one day, but for now, having a housekeeper was merely that—an option.

You had a much more ambitious goal in mind, and that was making an impact on Hollywood. “Case adjourned.”

Grant’s laugh suggested defeat, and you were all too familiar of the long silence that would come after. If he was here face-to-face, you both would sit in the sound of white noise, or the beating rain in this case, and simply stare at each other.

You weren’t sure when or how it came to fruition, and in the end that didn’t matter—because it was nice.

It was nice to be free from all things interfering with Grant.

“What was for dinner?” He asked, instantly reminding you of the emptiness in your stomach.

“I overslept—well, as overslept as one could be when all they have on their agenda for the day is to die in bed while watching re-runs.”

“Dying to one of Lucille Ball’s shenanigans doesn’t sound too bad. If you time it right, the audience can laugh when you exhale your very last breath,” you laughed at Grant’s morbid mind. “I’ll come over then.”

“You don’t know where I live, Grant. And no, I might pass the bug to you. You’re the production’s biggest asset. We can’t afford any more delays if you fall sick too.”

“I do, actually. The apartment with the orange accents. It’s all everyone talks about because it’s so bright. And I’ll be fine, (M/N). I shot quite a bit of my scenes already. I know you’re a rising star, but the whole world doesn’t stop for you, sweetheart.”

Hearing Grant call you ‘sweetheart’, even if it was said in jest, had you thinking of several different situations in which he would say it again -- preferably in earnest.

“It should. All the take-out places in my neighborhood closed early. What I would do if I had the world in my palm…” From the couch, you looked solemnly out your window, watching blocks of buildings sleep in the shadow of the moon. Your stomach growled as the rain poured harder.

“Even as a dictator, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from coming over. I’ll be there in a split.”

“But it’s raining—“

The line ended with a buzz.

“You know, you don’t have to keep checking up on me, or even bring me food for the matter. I stocked up on some ‘TV Dinner,’” you took a whiff at the steaming bowl of lobster bisque, putting your sinuses to the test. Still nothing. Giving up, you took a sip.

“No wonder you’ve been complaining about your throat! At least buy the meatloaf one,” Grant poured you a cup of orange juice before putting the jug back, rummaging through your freezer after. “And since we’re on the subject… I’ll try one of these bad boys out.”

It was strange seeing someone in your kitchen, let alone your apartment. As unfamiliar was it was, you couldn’t lie and say that you hated it. It was easier to talk to Grant, on the couch and eating a meal together, than it was with a bunch of people interrupting their conversation for either one of them, sometimes both, to do another take.

“Have you ever been offered the chance of being a mystery guest?” After finishing dinner, you curled up on one end of the sofa while Grant sat on the other, arms sprawled over the back and feet cushioned separately by a foot stool.

You and Grant were watching a late night re-run of ‘What’s My Line?’ Four panelists had to question contestants to determine their line of work with only yes-no questions. Toward the last round of every episode, there would be a celebrity mystery guest in which the panelists sought to determine the identity of while blindfolded. For tonight’s episode, the panelists were still stumped on the first contestant’s ‘occupation’—which hardly seemed fair because it was then revealed that she was a victim of a knife-throwing accident.

They let anyone participate these days.

“I have. I wanted to partake in it, but the studio rejected the idea.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, aghast.

Frankly, if you were in Grant’s shoes, you wouldn’t have take ‘no’ for an answer. Anyone who was anyone guested on that show. And if you were Grant’s manager, somehow scarcely able to believe you would even have the energy to be in meetings all day, you would have made his dreams come true. All of them, no matter how absurd they could be.

“They thought I’d be confused at the questions given to me,” Grant sounded aggrieved. You looked over. In the guise of his smile, you could tell those words still affected him. “I think I’m capable. I just lose my train of thought in front of a crowd sometimes.”

Which made the passing thought of being Grant’s manager only a fantasy as the guilt suddenly festered -- you believed those horde of headlines insulting his intellect once. Luckily, it had since dissipated once befriending him.

“Well, when the day comes, I don’t want you to tell me,” you confessed. “Leave the surprise to the broadcast.”

Though, it wasn’t like you thought lowly of him or made any disparaging remarks on his character because of those articles. Rather, you simply pitied. You weren’t going to tell him that, however. He doesn’t need to know how deep your affection for his films and personages go. That he gave you the kick you needed to pursue this strange, yet fulling path -- you could taste the accolades right around the corner, even if you were still living in a dingy apartment.

The awful truth was that Grant also didn’t need to know that you had fallen harder for him -- the real him -- than any other roles he had played. Maybe it was his gorgeous looks that projectors couldn’t do justice. Or the clumsy nature that strangely fit his otherworldly persona -- something had to humble him. Or how he was doing this, bringing you soup every day and making himself comfortable in your own home, like it was his as well.

Or how he was looking at you right now, curled up on the other end of the sofa, his foot accidentally brushing over yours in midst of finding a comfortable spot.

You stretched your legs out when you suddenly felt tense in the body, turning away from the television set to face your body to the ceiling, your chin to your chest to keep your eyes on Grant, who began mirroring your position. It was like you two discovered telepathy for the first time; your leg occupying the gap between his thighs, Grant between yours. He turned the TV off like you had been wanting, filling the living space with complete darkness, and blindly skimmed his sock over your own.

Feeling his sock rub against your ankle stirred something inside of you, and it wasn’t reassuring that this urge only bloomed when Grant did it again. Once at your ankle, two at your calf. Whether this was his idea of a sick joke, you didn’t want that to be answered. Your senses were already heightened from the flu, the stillness in the room deafening, but the intertwined pairs of feet -- the sound of cotton caressing cotton -- alerting. Enticing.

It was an urge that seemed confined to Grant, you realized that when your body responded out of instinct and nudged his ankle and calf in retaliation. Not to get him to stop, but to silently convince him to resist -- because you were frightened you couldn’t any longer.

After a few more cycles of this—whatever activity you two were engaging in—Grant straightened his legs by your hips, seemingly complacent in this exchange by the sound of his chuckle.

“I’ll leave by dawn.”

“Good night, Grant.”

For the past couple of days, you had gotten into the habit of looking forward to Grant’s daily delivery of soups from a restaurant not too far from where he lived—three meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner respectively. You had to admit, as delicious as they were, you were beginning to exhaust your taste buds of anything broth related. Substance was much needed, especially for a bite of the sandwiches that Grant had graciously introduced you to a couple weeks back.

However, you were feeling better, and that was the most important part—actually, scratch that.

The most important part was who was helping you recover from this aggravating bug. Sipping on the last spoonful of tomato soup, in hopes that your next meal would involve using your teeth, you were itching to resume filming.

At least you thought you did before you flipped through the daily paper. It was a still shot of Grant—blurry, walking down a sidewalk, hand in one pocket while the other was carrying a bag. That was normal, you had seen many of those in your lifetime.

What wasn’t normal was that you recognized the restaurant logo on the bag, the row of evergreens surrounding the perimeter, the distinct branding of the entrance of the building he was near.

Even if the photograph was in black and white, you could tell the handles and windows were painted with a shade darker than white. It made for a rather intriguing backdrop if you could choose to ignore the tightening feeling in your chest.

You started to panic as it became more apparent.

Orange.

“Shit.”

You braced yourself and read the headline.

HOLLYWOOD PLAYBOY STRIKES AGAIN: GRANT GUSTIN SPOTTED AT NEW ALLEGED LOVER’S RESIDENCE!

At first Grant thought he must have misunderstood. When he picked up today’s daily, he was half-expecting a gossip column regarding another one of his romantic adventures with a former co-star, the other half wishing the paper had focused on someone else for a change.

Last month’s column produced a rather in-depth, and slightly creepy, overview of his dinner with Miss Patton. He knew he had good reason to feel peculiar about the waiter serving them. If it hadn’t been for Miss Patton’s desperate plea to get a meal in her stomach as soon as possible, Grant would’ve demanded a switcheroo, effective immediately. The lanky, young man lingered far too long and asked too many questions for his liking, his presence alone made Grant’s Negroni Spritz go flat.

Did Grant’s reputation need to take another hit after finally recovering from those multitudes of fender benders a year and a half ago? Probably not -- Grant didn’t need to endure another hour-long chastising session about how his actions could damage the movie studio. It was all bluff anyway. Grant and the studio head both knew that scandals ushered in huge numbers, record-breaking attendances when it came to his most recent pictures.

Either way, had he known his private conversation with Miss Patton would become… well, not so private, Grant would’ve committed arson to the studio the night of. At least the executives could file an insurance claim based on the physical damage. Grant doubted there would be much validity to the claim if the reason provided was his inability to hold his tongue.

Luckily, Grant had since stopped pursuing after risks. It was what made a dent to his once speck-less Mercedes-Benz in the first place.

Dear God… my sweet Iris, what have I done to you?!

What he wasn’t expecting was—

“‘The Gustin Effect! Hollywood Heartthrob Grant Gustin Helps Local Restaurant Sell Out… Soups?,’” Grant repeated to himself. He was sweating as his eyes went over the large serif font for the nth time like skates on ice. He had to give it to The Daily Spring -- it wasn’t exactly an intriguing headline, but it made his heart race knowing the context. Regardless, it wasn’t exactly how he wanted to start off his day.

He suddenly felt compelled to pour another packet of sugar into his coffee.

“Keep reading, it’s a rather heart-warming article,” Grant’s manager said through the handset with a peculiar enthusiasm, as if the man wasn’t scolding him a few days ago for wandering about without telling him first. “Looks like we’re back on track, don’t you think?”

“As my manager, you’re supposed to be—I don’t know—warding off any worries that I might have. Not unsettle me any more than I already am…” Grant frowned, tucking the handset between his shoulder and ear before briefing into the rest of the gossip piece.

“What are you talking about? This is great news!”

“‘Local restaurant ‘The Cloud Room’ saw an unexpected surge in business after a photograph was published in the newspaper, showing movie star Grant Gustin holding a bag of the restaurant’s soups while en route to a secret rendezvous.

The image caught the attention of the public, leading to a wave of curious customers eager to try the same dish, dubbing the star’s powerful influence as ‘The Gustin Effect.’

With lines stretching down the block for the past three days, the possibility of the effect faltering anytime soon seems slim to none. The owners are considering expanding their hours to accommodate the growing number of customers drawn by the star's casual endorsement.’”

There were several more paragraphs, but Grant couldn’t be bothered to read any more of it. A sudden migraine had been festering the moment he laid eyes on the headline.

“Christ, Kid. You’re on a roll these days. I’d have to use both of my hands to count the number of articles written about you this past week. It’s impressive. If we play it right, then the upcoming picture could be your biggest hit yet. I know you’ve been clamoring for this moment, Kid.”

“Listen, I think I should—“ he groaned, rubbing at his temples.

“Oh, Grant. It’s just your typical fling, wasn’t it? Usually you sweeten a lady up with chocolates, but I guess… soup has its merit too. Nothing to worry about.”

Throbbing -- Grant’s head was throbbing now. He didn’t have the freedom to be indifferent to other people’s opinions. In fact, his career relied on it—on the public, on his manager, on his manager’s manager.

“No, the thing is—“

Now his hands were clamming up. He could feel the handset in his palm slipping, but he tightened his hold—because that was what people in his line of work did, right? If he was on the game show you and Grant were watching the other day, one of the questions would have been:

“Do you portray yourself as who you really are in your line of work?” “Are you free to express yourself however you wished in your occupation?” “Would people like the real person behind this persona of yours? Your parents, perhaps? Grandparents?” “Would you risk the comfort of your career for love?”

“I’ll run it by with the studio. Thank God for your little lady’s soup obsession because they were on my neck for letting you off my leash.”

Maybe his manager was correct in inducing this fear of the press, of anything that provided a space for a cluster of inquisitive people who sought for a piece of his life to sell.

Grant braced himself and exhaled, “It’s not a lady.”

Because Grant would answer all those questions with a resounding ‘No.’

“What, your brother in town? Do you even have a brother? Oh, it must’ve been your father then! Well, that will certainly fare better with the heads—”

All except one.

“It was (M/N).”

All the things Grant wasn’t saying sat heavy in his mouth. He wasn’t used to holding his tongue like this. Under normal circumstances, Grant would ramble non-stop about his favorite pastimes, like going up to Colorado to challenge the steepest ski run, or modestly luxuriating near the poolside at his mansion. It always got the conversation to a flying start with you.

Now, all of his efforts of building some kind of relationship with you seemed to be in vain.

Since Grant had revealed to his manager about his frequent visits to your apartment, there had been a constant stream of articles, propagated by the studio, about his love life, about his philanthropic efforts, about his wishes to build a family with a loving wife and four kids; all in the effort to bury his truth had it ever leak.

They brought his past flings back to the spotlight, even if he hadn’t communicated with these women in months. They brazenly brought you into the picture, gossip columnists regurgitating all types of bogus stories such as: your ego-trip when you demanded filming to stop because of your illness, your tantrum on set when Grant forgot his lines, your need to berate your assistant when she was as little of a second too late in fetching your coffee.

‘Inside sources,’ they’d call it—when really, these were excerpts manufactured from the publicity agent’s fictitious and unpublished novel, later trashed somewhere in the building to start a new one -- to find a new story for so-called ‘journalists’ would hound you with.

Articles about the alleged feud between you and Grant had only gotten more vicious and scathing on your end, and all Grant could do was watch in agony as the studio lot became a media circus, increasing day by day, week by week, with more photographers and reporters desperate to encounter these alleged incivilities. As a newcomer in the industry, it certainly raised your profile, but it was also to the detriment of your reputation -- a fact that everyone was content with considering the amount of coverage the film was receiving.

He had held onto your presence as a small comfort throughout the past bleak month, but even that necessity was taken away from him. More executives began coming onto set under the guise of quality assurance as shooting headed for its last week. Their intention became very much apparent whenever Grant would be inconvenienced with another obligation of shooting for more publicity stills.

Upon realizing you had done all your promotional material in solitude, there was nothing Grant had wanted more than to join you by your side. More so, when in a cursory attempt to blend in with your surroundings, you helped yourself to the catering service and tried to become interested in the employees. Grant knew you didn’t have enough energy in you to exchange more than a “How are you?” and some complimentary words about the food.

You didn’t stay much longer for the wrap party.

Nor were you even welcomed.

He was rarely in a situation where he could physically harm someone, but seeing the headlines the past month, how ostracized you had become during the last few weeks of filming, maybe the circumstances of his life would issue a free pass to do such heinous crimes out of the goodness of their heart -- especially since it pertained to you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Grant. Christ—someone could see you! How did you get here without someone following you?”

Before Grant was being sharply pulled into your apartment, he was contemplating on whether he should greet you with a reasonable “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” a pleading “It’s all my fault, please forgive me,” or a simple “Hi.”

The door clicked shut, and Grant mentally slapped himself out of his thoughts. Instead, it was none of that.

“Everyone got wasted by nine,” Grant revealed lightly; there was some apprehension that any louder, he would break you based on your meek appearance. “Your eyes are red.”

You made a dismissive noise, brushing Grant off as you passed him on your way to the bedroom. “It’s only been a month and you’re already forgetting the color of my eyes, Grant? I’ve been telling you to go to the doctor.

Grant followed. By simply watching your back, Grant noticed your walk had changed. “Stop. Stop that.” You walked too fast for your own good at times, missing shops because you had tunnel-visioned toward the front, but Grant easily caught up to grab your arm and stop you in your tracks.

Or maybe he was just getting accustomed to your pace before shit hit the fan.

“Stop what?” You turned, facing him as you leaned against your bedroom door with crossed arms. At your lower eyelids, Grant caught sight of tears forming along the waterline. He shouldn’t think that crying looked lovely on you, so he kept that thought to himself.

But it really did put him in a trance for a moment. During that moment of attraction, it couldn’t be helped that the open collar of your shirt also led various prospects nearly consume him and all of his being, making him take a step closer. His fingers brushed by the tip of yours, the wattage of the slightest physical touch making you flex your fingers like you were upholstered by secrets.

A month shouldn’t have felt that long, but this was the moment when it all came into fruition -- that Grant hadn’t properly spoken or seen you in a month. He remembered how he felt when you looked at him for the first time, something like a sensation coming painfully back to a numb limb. As torturous as it was, it made Grant feel alive.

“Stop pretending like you’re okay,” Grant swallowed hard, finding himself in a dilemma between wiping your tears for you or giving you the space you clearly needed, even if Grant had involuntarily done enough of that.

You scoffed, using the back of your sleeve to wipe your eyes. “I’m not pretending. I don’t even have stray cats in my balcony like I used to anymore to be okay for.”

“Stray cats would’ve brought you much more comfort than I ever could, I have to admit that,” Grant said, your face assuming an expression that led Grant to plausibly assume you would have disagreed. That, or he was simply toying with his delusions, knowing he couldn’t fathom the tangible truth of the damage his relationship with you had undergone.

He meant it when he didn’t want anything more than to join you by your side. Grant followed you to the sofa and sat next to you, knees and thighs touching. Hands—pairs of hand wishing they could hold you in between the passing silence.

“Why didn’t you call?” Grant didn’t think you mean for the reasonable question to sound as despondent as it did. He also didn’t think he has a lapse of control left, because you looked so fragile and nebulous—that despite his best efforts, Grant eventually slipped a hand into your palm because he was afraid acknowledging your existence would make you disappear.

He held you tighter.

“My hotel was under supervision… it’s not an excuse, I know. I should’ve tried to find a loophole. I couldn’t even write to you without the possibility of being caught. And when I was, they released more of those horrid articles about you. They were breathing down my neck, (M/N). I swear. I didn’t know what to do other than to… be complicit. I’m sorry. Truly. I’m a coward.”

“You’re not,” you sighed with eyes fixated on Grant’s hand in yours. “You have a lot more to lose than I do. I get it.”

He caressed his thumb over your palm, sparking some kind of will to exist by which he had the gentle squeeze of your hand to judge by. “Doesn’t mean it’s right, though. I don’t know, it all happened so fast. If I would’ve shut my damn mouth, none of this would have happened. I just—panicked. For God’s sake, it’s not like we’re…”

Lovers. Grant doesn’t think it was his imagination that something in you seemed to have unwound after the implication. If Grant hadn’t mentioned that he wasn’t great at comforting people, which he was confident that he had never told you, it counted for something when he was struck by the relief in your shoulders and hand, your palm seemingly sinking—but you didn’t have to fret, because Grant was there to catch you.

He was more capable at this than he had thought.

You chuckled over Grant’s reservation to even say the unspoken word, so you left him be. “My manager told me to lay low for the time-being and wait for the storm to pass. It’s nice to know I’m not fired or anything, they know it’s all deceptive.”

There was something so comforting in the ability to be physically touching you, in knowing that from here on out, Grant could simply take you by the hand, shut the door between the two of you and the rest of the world, and share your thoughts.

Maybe if all went swell, hand-holding wouldn’t be confined to a sad set of affairs. In Grant’s ideal world, holding your hand would also be the preface of something more, a bridge that allows him to cross his way over to you and explore all facets negative and positive, intimately so.

“We’re all pawns to the studio anyway. Vehicles that put in an extra floor to the building. Bad publicity is good publicity. It’s free marketing for the film. Scandals make stars, and you’re halfway there.”

Grant was sure of it. He had seen many other actors and actresses recover their careers with far worse rumors. The main priority was money, and as long as it didn’t stop the audience from filling up the theaters, there was no reason to drop a talent.

You brought your legs onto the sofa and crossed your legs facing Grant. “Is that supposed to be comfort me, Mister Fender Bender?”

“That was only three times—and, mind you, no one got hurt.” Grant followed suit. His bent knees pressed against yours. He had your hands opened in his palms as if telling fortune was second nature to him, tracing the lines embedded in your palm with an inquisitive index. “How am I supposed to comfort you, then? Tell me.”

Your hands weren’t much smaller than Grant’s, the fact had been known since the very moment you two had exchanged handshakes for the first time. Still, those beautiful appendages visited his dreams often. It hadn’t meant anything to Grant until one night, he was dreaming about the day he had his hand over yours as you lit his cigarette. The second night, he dreamed of you testing his temperature via the back of your hand to Grant’s forehead. The third night… well, Grant was ashamed to admit that his attraction had breached far into indecent territories by which helped him solve a night of endless tossing and turning in a matter of minutes.

Then multiple nights, because Grant since wholeheartedly accepted that this infatuation for your hands had actually preceded his deep affection for you.

Unless someone brought good reason that Grant should stop playing with your hands and obsessing over them, it wasn’t in his agenda to ever let go.

“You’ve done enough. I guess… I’m a little upset that I splurged on a new suit for nothing. I was going to wear it to the wrap party,” you huffed, idly playing a game of ‘Try To Catch Grant’s Finger.’ No prize money would be offered, just bragging rights—which did have some merit.

So far, you were losing.

Grant smirked as he managed to wriggle a finger out of your grip. Five points for him, two points for you. “Who said there can’t be one with just us two?”

“Cheater! And that’s called a date, Grant.”

“I would’ve stayed then.” Suddenly, the solution to end your pitiful evening slotted in place.

He sprung up from the sofa with a hop, smiling graciously at you. “Come on. On your feet. We’re bringing it to a place I know.”

For Grant to call his residence something as pedestrian and humdrum like ‘a place,’ as if all the great virtues and grandeur of the mansion had been entirely diminished because the construction of expanding his already-massive pool had been halted for whatever reason—you questioned, and was rather frightened to know, about what his idea of a party was. It soon became a momentary thought when Grant began giving you a brief tour around his mansion—and the amenities that came with it.

With its manicured gardens, gold-plated fixtures, towering columns that couldn’t have prepared you for the imposing entryway, Grant’s stately mansion exuded an aura of refinement and exclusivity, and you were in awe by the sense of splendor. You felt out of your element. It was extremely telling as you walked over the imported marble floors like they were made of crystals. Delicately caressed ornate sculptures stoned near every corridor because it would have been irresponsible for you to only observe the complex lines that made their forms so irresistible. It was the epitome of a lifestyle that you would never be able to afford, yet you weren’t jealous at all.

It was a spectacle for sure, but you couldn’t have possibly felt comfortable living with such large quantities of upkeep. Grant mentioned that his bedroom was his favorite, and that was what you could get behind. It wasn’t opulent like the rest of the resident was. It felt lived in, homely, comfortable, even though you were hyper-aware of the fact that his balcony practically contained another living space.

“Get changed in the bathroom. I’ll wait here,” Grant said, sitting on the end of his bed. You had never seen a king-size bed before, but the magazines weren’t lying when one of the print advertisements likened their mattress of that size to a cumulonimbus cloud.

The color of your bespoke formal wear spoke softly; champagne at the blazer and cedar at your slacks. The fabric so light, they almost seemed without substance. The great craftsmanship nearly made you empty a week’s worth of cigarettes in a day, but the tailoring of your suit, alongside the cut and detail, quickly separated you from the past appearance of a boy who had yet outgrown his father’s hand-me-downs to a well-dressed and confident man who paid his bills on time. Once you slicked your hair back for the final touch, you walked out of Grant’s bathroom to reveal yourself.

“I forgot my tie on your bed.”

Grant had opened his mouth to take another gulp of whiskey, but when he turned to look at you, his tongue was seemingly paralyzed in the back of his throat, suddenly coughing up the previous sip he had taken.

You laughed while you made your way to his full length mirror stationed by his closet. He was quick to follow behind, subsiding his raw throat with the last ounce of liquor and grabbing your tie on the way over.

“You look nice. Though, I didn’t take you to be someone who was keen on light colors. You always wore navy,” Grant said, turning you to face him by a gentle hold on your shoulders.

You tipped your head when Grant began to slip the necktie beneath your shirt collar. “Most of my clothes are from my father’s. I will say—as much as it made a dent in my wallet, it was nice buying something for myself for once.”

You tried not to be too obvious about looking at all facets of Grant; the careful attention of his gaze; the veins in his hands as he looped the cloth. In this moment, you came to realize that you wanted Grant in all the ways you were used to ignoring. This was different in the past, different from those peculiar exchanges between the two of you where playing footsie and skimming hands were simply done in the guise of naivety.

He caressed the green cloth in his hand while his gaze focused on yours, utterly complacent about how he compelled you to part your lips with a single look.“Well, you made a great choice. You look terrific. Handsome.” All so alluring, when he stalled further, slowly passing the fibers of silk between inquisitive fingertips. With one firm tug, Grant knotted the tie at your throat, pulling you closer to him in the process. “Beautiful.”

This was different because you knew Grant felt the same way.

“Beautiful?” You repeated for clarification. The word that came out of his mouth littered you goosebumps over your skin. Nobody had ever called you beautiful, you were sure you were the first man in history to be called as such.

You refused to believe this was a serious statement, but then Grant repeated cooly, “Beautiful,” and before you could counter, he pulled on your tie again, nearly closing the small distance between the two of you, and settled his lips on yours.

You collapsed into the kiss, like it was taking all the effort not to kiss Grant, and you were finally giving up. Grant knew that you wanted this, that by any sensible measure desperate for the taste of liquor to come from his mouth and pass into yours with the swap of his tongue. He knew it the way he knew that the Western End had the best suits in the city and that you needed a reservation for almost every restaurant in the district—it was a fact that he didn’t have to think about, and which everybody else knows, too.

You didn’t mean to make that noise come out of your mouth, but after suffering a lapse in Grant’s presence, his lips on yours felt like a whiskey sour on a hard day. It was much needed gift with the past few months you had been having. The softness and care in Grant’s lips made your breath shudder, one would think you had been laved by the cold sea, whereas you were actually melting, in Grant’s arms, gripping his lapel for balance.

“I missed you,” Grant said softly. He circled his arms over your hips, his hands sliding beneath your blazer because he needed to feel every muscle in your body tensing, to pull you impossibly closer to memorize how you fit in his arms.

You supposed you had to credit the liquor for his brazenness.

“I missed you too,” you collapsed into his arms, trusting the warmth of his embrace.

He kissed you in between breaths. “I missed you so much, I couldn’t function properly knowing you were hurting. Guilt was hollowing me from within,” Harder on your mouth, apparently coming to the conclusion that you relished in the roughness of his embrace, in the bruising link between your mouth and his, from the way you gasped and pulled more of him into you. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Palm deep against his nape, you pushed his head toward the slant of your jaw because you needed to recover your breath. Quickly, before you would risk the chance of collapsing on behalf of lost time, dispelling your last remaining breath inside Grant’s mouth out of desperation to overcompensate.

“I told you it was fine, Grant—“ You groaned when he began nibbling at the underside of your jaw. By virtue of his unstoppable desire, Grant propelled forward, holding you tight, and you stumbled back into the corner until your back collided with the wall, the impact drawing out a pleasurable hiss from your throat.

“It’s not. It’s absolutely not. You nearly drove me into talking to a shrink about you.” You nearly stopped Grant to have a proper conversation, without all these interruptions. Between his kisses and the gripping, you were an incoherent mess if the tightness in your slacks had something to go by, but you instead followed along, entranced by how Grant could look so stunning when all he was doing was undressing you.

He started with the tie. “But then, that would’ve made matters entirely worse upon the realization that… I was so in love with you,” he whispered over your bare throat after sliding the cloth off. Next, was your shirt. “And that it can’t be fixed. I can’t be fixed. I can’t fix myself now knowing that you feel the same way. You do, don’t you?” Then, your undershirt.

You swallowed hard. “I do. I entirely do, am so much in love with you. Grant—” You struggled to get the words out without giving into Grant’s delirious kisses on your bare body. Maybe if you had stumbled, it would’ve delayed his ravenous appetite for your body a second or so longer—but even then, you weren’t sure if you were capable of witnessing and being at the hands of a man who was so clearly starving.

“Oh, Grant—that’s very…” Good. Erotic. Attractive. At least one of those words you were meant to say, but it would’ve been a relic of a bygone touch. Being mouthed at your perky nubs was as indescribable a feeling could get, but then when Grant began licking over your body, slowly sinking onto his knees as he worked his way down your torso, sucking spots and licking marks you hadn’t had the faintest idea about—you were reduced to the role of a whimpering bystander by which ultimately stripped your brain beyond words.

Grant undressed the lower half of you—all but your brown socks—and you had long accepted the fact that it was inevitable in showing Grant how much you enjoyed giving him free rein to your body. Your erection was strong, a reveal of flesh that made him suck in his lips to keep himself from ravishing you already.

“You’re leaking,” you wanted to hide and crawl in a ditch somewhere. It was embarrassing as Grant marveled over the thick trail of pre-cum that tagged over his fingertip when he curiously dipped a finger over your glans.

“Well, don’t comment on it…”It was like he read your mind, because Grant placed a warm palm on your stomach to prevent you from enacting on your wishes, ultimately trapping you in place by the gentle strokes over your cock. “Fuck…” you watched with bleary eyes, all sorts of feelings stockpiling to feed your endorphins

In turn, you felt your skin blossom with heat, patches on your neck and chest burning, because Grant refused to take his eyes off of you. He stroked your cock ardently while assuming an expression of treacly sentiment, like he couldn’t believe his dreams had become a reality. Watching you writhe over the wall, leak over his twisting fist, bite your moans into your hand; these were the exact amenities you would’ve have wanted had you sought for a mansion of your own. Not the towering stairwells, or the ornate carved fountain, or even a separate room for the live-in housekeeper.

Just Grant, his presence, and his magical touch. That was all you needed.

“Wait, wait. Grant, stop—“ You begged a second too late. Your balls tightened when Grant’s hand was only more relentless upon your desperate pleas. His hand massaged your thighs, lips mouthed at the underside of your sack. The prospect of you returning the favor for Grant—or better, with your mouth, hoarding what had yet to be revealed deep down your throat—made you shudder with a release. “Fuck—”

“It’s okay. I’ve been meaning to taste you…” Upon the violent tremble of your thighs, Grant scooted closer, deftly angling and pumping your cock over his open mouth, and let you shoot. You blinked past tears as you felt yourself spill thick shots in Grant’s mouth, over his tongue as he cradled your seeds like they were precious metals, and at the last second, over his face because you stumbled out of his grasp and caught yourself on the wall, heaving.

It had taken a moment for you to catch your breath, shutting your eyes as the tremor in your body would jolt from out of the blue. It was all too much, the sweet relief courteous by the man you loved. You were embarrassed by how quickly Grant had unraveled you, but that was certainly a testament to your attraction to him, or to his skills.

When you opened your eyes, Grant pulled you by the hips for another kiss. A strong embrace to control the tides in your body. Then, a wet and sloppy kiss to clarify that Grant wasn’t done yet, as he breached your mouth with his tongue and surprised you by passing cum into your mouth. It was an ongoing battle, the thick substance swapping from tongue to another, the bitter notes subsiding as more saliva snowballed into the mixture. Between the lewd exchange, Grant began undressing himself out of anticipation of what would come next.

“Swallow,” Grant broke the kiss with a whisper, resting his forehead on yours to feast his eyes on the very prospect of you fulfilling his demand. It was an immense pull of attraction, the slow cascade of his hand over your spine following along with it, that made you gulp the thick content in your mouth. He seemed satisfied when your throat bobbed, smiling. “Good?”

“I imagine yours would taste better,” you rested a hand over your his head, coming his hair back with your fingers until they reached the back of his neck, offering you leverage for another kiss—sweet and clean on Grant’s lips.

“I wouldn’t mind if you tried me out,” Grant was already down to his briefs, his eyes subtly pleading for the sake of his thickened bulge. Prior to noticing, you had been roaming your hand over his lean body. His bare chest, the well-defined muscles breaking you of your fantasies—because it was better than you could have imagined. Grant looked about two seconds away from forcing you on your knees himself, but lucky for him, you were just as eager.

Sinking onto your knees, you carefully pulled down his briefs. Slowly at first, to compose yourself, but then to test your patience, because the length of Grant’s shaft seemed never-ending. When you fully stripped him of his briefs, you had to take a scoot back in fear that his impressive cock would hit you in the face.

Grant was massive, the weight of his length making it stoop forward and dangle with every step he took. There was one protruding vein that nearly made you drop everything and sucked him off right then and there, until he was fully hard in your mouth and you could feel more veins throbbing—but again, you needed to show him some type of restraint, even though at this point, you doubted that he cared.

“So, the rumors are true, then?” Instantly, you were taken back to a gossip column regarding Grant’s size. Whoever tipped those writers off should win a Pulitzer Prize.

Grant shrugged, apparently nonchalant at the fact that he could practically cover the length of your face with such ease. “Had no idea where that came from, honestly…” Holding his thighs, you briefly trialed the theory out under the guise of kissing the underside of his thick shaft. Between licking the flesh, kissing his balls, and fondling his cock, you were also completely immersed in the smell of his cock. He smelled like pure arousal, a peculiar saltiness in your nostrils as you breathed him in, from unkempt pubic hairs to the leaking tip. Nonetheless, it was gratifying as your cock responded in several twitches.

“I don’t think I can fit you in my mouth,” you said, aware that you were grinning like a fool.

“It’s the effort that matters,” he chuckled, his hand smoothening over your head to rest on your nape, pushing your mouth closer to his hardening cock. With one hand braced on his thigh and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, you felt Grant tense when you cradled the tip into your mouth with your tongue, sucking. “Your mouth is so warm, (M/N)…”

He was as salty as he smelled. The pre-cum coated your tongue nicely, resembling the taste of your cum prior, but somehow ten times more potent, as if you were drinking sex directly from concentrate. What was even nicer was how heavy your mouth felt when you took more of Grant in. It was like the weight of him had its own gravitational pull, separating your mouth wider to accommodate the massive girth like sucking a cock this big came second-hand nature to you. You reckoned that you should become quickly accustomed to it though, because you couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving Grant disappointed.

You and Grant were like this for a couple of minutes; Grant pushing out drips of spit with his mouth to add onto the wetness and you doing the same thing, pushing your saliva out and spreading the thick layer over his shaft with your hand to help ease the slide into your mouth. You could barely fit more than a few inches, your cheeks hallowing for as long as they could before the strain of the stretch had gotten to the nerves.

“Oh, fuck…” Grant moaned, having had enough of your sloppy strokes by robbing you of your recovery once more and greedily pushing his cock back into your warm mouth.

God, the way it looked… a reddened, fat swollen cock straining in the grip of your fist, a drop of pre-cum glistening heavy on the tip, a thick layer of saliva over the thicker size of his staff… the fact that you could see your own fingers struggling to wrap around his cock as you sucked him off—it all felt so very surreal, and so very real.

“You’re so big, Grant. Fuck…” You lifted your gaze and stared into Grant’s nebulous eyes. Somehow, it made the act ten times more obscene upon realizing that you were practically servicing him, on your knees, worshiping all facets of his body. His calves were toned against your lips, thighs sturdier as Grant made an effort to stabilize his stance following your teasing mouth working up his legs with ticklish kisses, then back to the head of his cock, where you began nibbling at the swollen head.

“Christ, (M/N)…”

He was always very expressive, but in the moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Dumbfounded, as you began using two hands to stroke what you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth. Swiveling and twirling his wet cock with your fists, all while you sucked and licked on his swollen tip, feeding into the rush that made his cock throb so hard in your mouth and hands, into the delightful sounds that revived your sensitive cock back with life.

Grant bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any sound. What came out were staggered breaths, clear evidence of his indulgence while his hips were moving without his volition. Your plump lips stretched wide around his pistoning cock, sucking and slobbering over the hot ample flesh, eyes wide and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t believe you could fit this much of Grant inside of your mouth.

It was endgame the moment Grant hissed and sunk in his stomach, flexing his abdomen under way—everything was building to the perfect eruption. You had your mouth opened, stroking him over your face to catch him with your tongue as he had done with you. Grant was close—so close that his face could make you spill for the second time of the night on the strength of his twisted expressions.

Your delusions consequently settled you in for a rude awakening when Grant suddenly pulled you up on your feet and kissed you hard, yet almost apologetically on the mouth. You whined against his lips, ultimately kissing him back because you couldn’t get a word in from how relentless he was being by which you couldn’t blame—the agony of being nearly relieved would’ve wrecked havoc on your mental state.

“I need to be inside of you first, please—“ Grant begged hot on your neck. He backed you into his bed until your backside collided with the mattress upon the push of his hand. Then your chest, when Grant took free liberty of your body and bent you over.

The first thing on your mind was that, “God, this mattress was lovely,” but the second you felt something wet spread over your hole, all the compliments you had reserved dissipated and expelled through a shuddering breath. You were blinded by the soft bedding, burying your moans into the sheets, but you could conjure up the holiest image of Grant spreading your asscheeks open and exploring you with eager licks.

“You’re so good at this,“ you sighed, curling your toes into your socks.

“You bring out the best in me, you know…” Grant muttered, squeezing your ass cheeks as a sign of affection when you looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. His mouth was much too busy to verbalize his feelings.

You wondered if Grant was aware of how obscene he had sounded—these wet, slurpy sounds that his mouth made while tasting your insides. His hot breath was beckoning, pushing your hips out by inclination for Grant to give you more. More, more, more. It seemed like he listened to your body because you stiffened immediately, barely suppressing a surprised gasp, when his slicked finger entered you.

You felt like you were in a free fall. Finally. This was exactly what you needed. Your mind went utterly blank, unable to comprehend the single digit curling inside of you. It was thought-annihilating, the way Grant had curled his fingers inside of you—two now, after deciding for himself that you had been clamoring for a bigger fill, that you needed to feel a stretch.

“Please, Grant—that’s enough, please. Need you,” you whimpered, self-conscious at the sound of his wet fingers slipping in and out of you. He liked playing with your body, screwing his fingers deep inside of you, only to yank them out because it made you yelp.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he brought the rest of your body onto the bed, bringing immediate relief to your legs. “One more.”

It made your tight hole beckon for more with a pucker.

With such control, forcefulness, and precision, your mouth fell open in a silent moan and your eyes went wide at the push of Grant’s third finger. You could barely keep your hips still, even with Grant’s efforts to hold you down with a palm on your lower back. It was all too much, your whole world seemed to have narrowed down to your sensitive hole; the sound of his hard fingers pumping in and out of you; the slick sounds obscene and alerting in your ear; the sweet stretch that made the discomfort all the worthwhile—because Grant was just as anguished as you were. You could hear him stroking his slicked cock, the anticipation of the inevitable building as you felt yourself loosened on account of his efforts.

You knew you were well-primed because your body still craved more.

“No more… need you,” you bit out, breathing unsteadily when Grant pulled his fingers out and flipped you onto your back. Your eyes naturally fell to Grant’s cock, and it looked as mouthwatering as it did a few moments ago. Your hole clenched at the likely chance that you’d be feeling the ramifications of taking such a well-endowed man well into the next day, and the day after that. “Please,” you begged once more, reaching low to prevail him with lazy to his erection.

“Other than getting over that nasty cold, I’ve never seen you so desperate for something,” Grant was kneeling on the bed, adjusting your position so your legs were wrapped around his hips, his cock teasing your entrance with careful ruts. You felt the head press ever so gently when he leaned forward and captured your lips for a soft kiss. “I find it really, really, really charming.”

“Mm…” Your fingers, tentative and slow, cupped the edge of Grant’s jaw. This was just the beginning, you realized. A new chapter for you and Grant where the idea of dropping hints of attraction was no longer needed because everything came unraveling, faster than you had anticipated, but nonetheless, it was exciting.

Grant put a free hand on the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, securing his place on top of you. When Grant broke the kiss to look into your eyes, it made all the difference between lust and love as he slowly pressed his cock into your hole, unlatching some kind of internal safety mechanism within you until it had clasped over the plump head after getting cold feet.

“Slowly,” you groaned, sweating bullets beneath the shower of his kisses. You built up a strong resistance to Grant’s hips, reluctant, and to put it quite plainly, frightened to take him in stride. But it was Grant’s silent promise to take care of you that took the edge off your apprehension bit-by-bit.

Grant followed a pattern. He pushed deeper, paused, then found a place on your body to distract you from the discomforting stretch, reeled back a bit, then thrusted deeper than before, gradually opening you up. Adding on the pleasing strokes to your hard cock, you felt your muscles relax, the sweat bullets cooling your body.

“More…” you mumbled on his lips, and at times you regretted asking for it, because Grant made your stomach turn. His cock was so deep inside of you, too deep when the stretch nearly became unbearable, yet your cock pulsed and your hole clenched for the exact opposite.

You noticed he liked talking you through it especially, whispering bone-chilling compliments like, “You’re taking my cock so well,” “Look at you, you’re so beautiful…” and your favorite, “You’re driving me crazy. Do you have any idea how hard I’m restraining myself?”

Grant was listening to your body. He knew what it meant when you were clenching so tight around him, panting for him with that wide-eyed look of yours, supplying his broad back with unrelenting scratches. It meant that you weren’t full enough—it meant that you covertly indulged in the stretch he was providing you with.

It was the best and worst feeling in the world, because you knew with suddenly clarity that you wouldn’t be able to live without this. You would crave this feeling always, especially when Grant fully breached your hole with a thrust that filled you to the brim.

You were full. So fucking full.

“Oh, God—“ The cock in you was thick and throbbing, easily brushing your prostate without so much of a motion. You nearly passed out from how intense the sensation was, having your inner walls be massaged from within as Grant finally started moving.

“You took all of my cock, fuck—I knew you could. I know you so well,” Grant grunted against your mouth, pistoning in and out of you with hard thrusts. Your arms had dropped to Grant’s sides, fingers digging into Grant’s toned buttocks, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

Instead, he reeled himself back.

Your legs dangled in the air as Grant pushed your knees to your chest, leveraging the back of your thighs hard to properly pile-drive his cock into your hole. Your feet sweltered in the confines of your socks, but you didn’t mind because you were getting accustomed to the humidity in the air.

Grant didn’t hesitate anymore. There was wild fury in his face, the imposing strength and passion managing to be its only rival as they equally sought for one purpose and one purpose only, which was to fuck you into oblivion. Grant looked dangerous, delirious, and you feared him as much as you wanted him. In your folded position, you spread your buttocks apart for Grant to see how well he was fucking you. How deep he was stroking your insides with his thick cock, making you gape when he completely pulled out, then making your body shiver—when he screwed himself in with one hard thrust, overfilling your guts.

“You put a smell on me, didn’t you?” His voice sounded spiteful, but what he does to you was pure love. He growled into one of your calves between pants, smooching and grazing his teeth at the toned muscle.

The bed creaked with every thrust of his, loud and heavy enough that you wouldn’t be surprised that the corridors of his mansion were echoing from it.

“F-fuck—if only. You would’ve d-done this sooner,” Tiny tremors and tingles exploded as Grant pummeled deep into your body and brushed over your prostate. You were stroking yourself to the sound of his ravenous moans, to the sound of his heavy balls slapping over your taint, to the sound of his sweaty thighs coming into contact with yours, warning you of a sensation of pin-needles sticking into the area by virtue of the thunderous claps.

Grant couldn’t have looked more beautiful than this. The gel in his hair loosened, letting delicate strands of brown locks to fall over his forehead. Every so often, he would push his fringe back with a careless swoop, and you whimpered at how effortlessly handsome he was at everything.

It lit you up inside, your body bursting with raw energy with the brutal impaling that Grant was feeding you. Your cock throbbed in your fist, and your hole squeezed at the unveiling of untamed passion. Grant must have seen the desire written on your face, because he was triumphant in the smile he had given you, leaning down to wake you from your state of stupor by means of a sloppy kiss.

“G-Grant, I-I’m so, I can’t—“ Grant took over your mind and body. He was everywhere, inside and around you. It was like you existed only for him, and his massive cock. His tongue pushed your lips apart and began cradling the flesh that had held your garbled moans from being remotely coherent.

“I can’t hear you,” Then, he fucked you like he wanted to gut you. Grant reached deep, hammering into your prostate every time his hips collided against yours. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give it to you. You know I will.”

Your eyes rolled until Grant could only see the whites of them. Your toes curled into your cotton of your socks at the contrasting affection in his voice. Your hands sprawled and crumpled a spot in the bed sheets, pulling and tugging hard enough for one corner of the satin bedding to untuck.

“Come. I need to come—“ you gasped out, struggling to breathe. Your world had shrunk to one sensation, the spot inside of you that had been gifted the ruthless beating of Grant’s cock. It was like he was chastising you for causing such feelings to stir inside of him. If that was the case, you needed to memorize the recipe, and quickly, because you were desperate to reduce the chances of ever being stripped of this sensation to a selfish zero.

“I’ll help you come,” he seized your body once again, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and pushed his total body weight on top of you. He blatantly disregarded the fact that your limbs had never been stretched this far before, but it was all worthwhile when Grant satisfied your longing by wrapping his warm hand over your cock and pumped. “I’ll make you come.”

“S-shit, Grant!” Each thrust harder than the last, his cockhead repeatedly hitting that golden spot, and your cock ached with desire in the lovely pulling of Grant’s hand. Your entire body seized, writhing as the familiar feeling in your stomach kept building and building without the intention to ever stop. It embarrassingly only took a few more strokes before you would spill thick all over his fist. All over your body, cumshots joining your sweat in layering your moist skin, when Grant kept stroking with the intent to empty your balls until they had tightened into your body.

Only then did Grant slow his thrusts and pull himself out. Did he change his mind about coming inside of you. Over your body? Face? You couldn’t tell what he was planning as you just began recovering from the daze your orgasm had put you into.

“You’re going to like this,” Grant grunted, pecking you on the lips before reaching down to angle himself back at your entrance.

Your gaze was casted with a mixture of utter bliss and wonder, chuckling. “What are you—fuck…“

Your hole felt warm and wet all over again when Grant pushed himself back inside of you with ease. Furthermore, it was a peculiar feeling, like there was an extra weight to his cock, the sound of the sticky substance—

You gasped, suddenly alert and clenching as you felt something viscous leak out of you.

Grant was fucking you with your own cum.

You couldn’t have been more turned on. Grant rolled his hips just right, slow and firm, coating your raw hole over and over with your seed, building back his stamina in the process. His cock pulsated in you. It was apparent that it was feeding into Grant’s satisfaction considering his gaze had been fixated on the translucent sheen of your cum passing back and forth on the girth of his cock and your internal walls.

“So beautiful…” Grant moaned out, clearly overwhelmed with the state of his arousal.

With every thrust, you swallowed him whole, the long glide of his thick, cum-covered shaft, the kiss to your prostate; you gyrated your hips to prolong his orgasm and allow him to recover his strength as Grant freed his hands from your body and tucked them behind his head, giving you free rein on his cock.

You rolled your hips, using your core to swing your ass forward and back on his throbbing cock, drawing out deep and guttural moans from the connection.

“Darling, (M/N), fuck—“ Hissing, he suddenly seized your waist and gripped hard, impaling you onto his cock with a rough pull, and you watched his stomach tighten, wrapping your legs back around his waist in preparation of his orgasm.

You watched in awe as you lost yourself in Grant’s fill. He came hard, gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into your thighs. It was a marvelous ache, both at your flesh and your hole, and you could feel his cock pumping multiple heavy loads deep inside of you and flooding your guts as reparation for your pain.

Even though Grant’s legs gave out, making him topple over your sweaty body, the strain in his thighs didn’t falter the desperate need to sow your insides with his warm seed. It was as if he was marking his territory, moving his hips slow and relaxed because he knew you were bound to him the moment he kissed you. Milking his cock inside of you was just a simple reminder, and you hugged his hard, spilling cock with gratitude.

His lips were slow and gentle, a contradictory to the merciless invasion of your guts. Nonetheless, you rocked on his shaft, blissfully spreading his love from deep within, and savored his shuddering breath.

“You’re heavy,” you groaned out, rubbing your hands from his shoulders to his sweaty back. Despite your complaint, you didn’t make much of an effort—if any at all—to push him away. It was peaceful like this, feeling his heart beat come to a somewhat normal pace while you two were stickily intertwined at the hip. “Some kind of confession…”

The sound of Grant’s muffled laughter into your neck made you smile. It was light and feathery, like the way you had always felt when you were with him.

“First kiss and sex, all on the same night. Who’s doing it like us?”

“No one. Absolutely no one.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#grant gustin x reader #grant gustin x male reader #grant gustin x you #grant gustin smut #grant gustin x m!reader #grant gustin fic #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #nou.fics #x reader #reader insert

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offensiunculaee · 15 days ago

Text

Even When I'm Not With You

Chapter One: Through Snow & Sleet

modern!Eddie Munson x AFAB!reader, college AU, strangers to friends to lovers

Summary: You meet someone in one of your college classes and it's love at first sight.

content warnings: swearing, it's a very modern AU

word count: 5.6k

author's note: this is technically my first fanfic. I began writing it in April of 2024 and only got around to posting it now. This is the backbone of the AU I've maintained in my head since I fell in love with Eddie. It takes place at the university I went to, involves all my friends, and some personal experiences. Once again, thank you to my two best friends @corroded-hellfire and @munson-blurbs for encouraging me to write and helping me out when I got stuck. Hopefully you guys like it because I have more to share in the future! ❤️

The cold February air was biting at your face as you hurried across campus, slow enough to avoid the ice that no doubt sat in the dark waiting for one careless student to step on it and fall flat on their ass. The walkways were lit just enough to allow you to see where you were going but not enough to help you spot any icy spots so this was as fast as you were willing to move. What should have been a relatively easy day turned into a nightmare the moment you woke up. It had snowed overnight and the university grounds crew had neglected to salt the sidewalks once again so you nearly fell twice just trying to get from your dorm building to the dining hall next door. Once you had a decent breakfast you made your way to work and learned that there was a bad cold spreading among the employees and had claimed three of your coworkers that you expected to work with today, thus leaving you with only your team lead to help you in your department. A good chunk of your morning was spent unloading consoles set to be released soon and left you exhausted. There were a fair share of unhappy customers that you had to deal with, and it only got worse when you finally got to go on your lunch and realized you left your wallet in your room so you had to eat the day-old bagels left in the break room. Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

Your university was located in the middle of a metropolitan area so you were fully aware that the rush hour traffic was bad. To avoid the inevitable panic of wondering if you could be held up in traffic and be late to class, you built your class schedule around your shifts to leave an hour and a half for you to get home when the longest it could possibly take is twenty minutes with heavy traffic. Tonight’s class, Physical Anthropology, was on the other side of campus so you also had to factor in the time it would take to walk there. Still, you would be left ample time to get home, change out of your work clothes, and even have dinner without the need to rush. You were thankful that this was the last week before spring break so at least you could relax when you weren’t working.

Your careful planning had worked perfectly up until today because you couldn’t possibly account for the accident on the highway. Everyone was trying to get home before the storm came back to make the streets undriveable, but one driver was in such a rush that they lost control and caused a small pile-up. The drivers were all alright, thankfully, but this left you sitting in traffic for over an hour and your anxiety slowly creeping up. You were close to emailing your professor to tell them you weren’t going to make it even though the university was right in front of you. By 6:15pm, you were finally moving and rushed across campus. You weren’t even going to change out of your uniform and decided to just keep on the sweater you wore under your coat. All you had to do was grab your bag right by your door and make the trek across campus. Unfortunately once you grabbed everything you needed, you were now left with 15 minutes to make the 11-minute uphill trek to your classroom, assuming there were no obstacles in your way.

You made it inside the building and into your classroom with two minutes to spare, but in your mind you were basically late to class. You preferred to get there ten minutes early so you could choose a decent seat and get yourself situated, but by the time you were inside all the good spots were taken and the professor was already setting up for her lesson. The only seats left were in the back so you made your way over and put your stuff down at the first open spot you see. As you begin unpacking your things, the professor turns some of the lights off and puts on a video on osteology that you had been focusing on for the last two weeks.

You were never a very social person in school, always preferring to keep to yourself and only talk when other people initiate a conversation. This class was only on your schedule because it fulfilled a requirement, nothing else. Your only friends here were within your small program and none of them were in this class with you. You didn’t know anyone's names or faces, especially not the person you just sat next to. His only acknowledgement of you was in the form of scooting a little bit so he wasn’t taking up all the space at the table you were now sharing. He was focused on whatever he was frantically writing down in his notebook, a curtain of curly brown hair concealing his face from you. However, you were able to see what he was writing in. It was a beaten up spiral notebook full of carefully organized notes with color coded tabs. There were flowcharts, sketches of what looked like maps, and character information. He also had some pages printed out that were tucked between the pages. None of those things really stuck out to you, instead your eyes were drawn to a hastily drawn creature in the corner of the left page. It was a scaled, humanoid figure with wings and horns. You could almost mistake it for a gargoyle if it weren’t for its stature and flames surrounding it. It’s something you’d recognize almost anywhere.

You whisper to the person next to you, “That pit fiend looks really good.” His pen stops mid-sentence and his head shoots up to look at you. A woodsy smell mixed with a hint of tobacco and mint wafted towards you with his movements. It was almost intoxicating.The first thing you looked at were his eyes. They were wide open with shock and they were the richest, most beautiful shade of brown you had seen in your entire life. His lips were full, a little chapped either from biting and wetting them or the cold weather sucking all the moisture out of everything. He had light freckled across his nose and a small, faded scar on his forehead. The rest of his hair that wasn’t previously obscuring his face was tied back into a bun. You both sat there in silence for a moment as he struggled to put words together. He’s wearing chunky silver rings and a worn Slipknot hoodie. You could even see the edges of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar and another of a goat skull on his left hand.

“Oh, thanks. Um…” He looked down at the page for a second, ringed hands fidgeting with the pen he was holding before pointing towards the large flow chart, “It’s for this week’s campaign. I didn’t have a lot of time this week to plan so I’m trying to get it all done right before we meet up tonight. My friend, Jeff, his character looted these cultists…” He glances up to check and see if you’re listening and smiles when he realizes you’re actively paying attention, leaning in to get a better look at the pages. He continues with a little more confidence in his voice.

“So his character, this Triton named Kaglas, found a really old book on one of the cultists. Turns out this book was a cursed tome belonging to a demon prince and well, he cut his finger trying to pry the book open because it was being held shut with these really sharp teeth. The blood from his finger dripped onto the book and opened a portal so a prince of hell kidnapped him and now they’ll have to get past this guy to gain access to the prison… I’m just trying to finish up the encounter tables for the rest of the prison because I always leave those until the last minute.” Before he can delve further into the story, the lights come back on and papers are being handed out to each row of tables by the professor. “The goal of this lab is to identify the species of hominid based on everything you’ve learned so far. I’m not going to pull anything funny by giving you two of the same species so don’t worry about that. Each skull is numbered. Work with the other person at your table to identify the species, write the number down, and explain your reasoning. Please be careful with these.”

The papers make their way back to your way and you hand one to your new lab partner. He accepts it, mouthing ‘thank you’ and quickly scrawls Eddie on the top of the page. Good, you tell yourself. You know his name now, progress. There’s some shuffling in the back of the room as the professor goes off on some tangent. Both yours and Eddie’s attention is drawn back to the topic of his campaign.

You began speaking to him in hushed tones, “Your friend doesn’t seem very bright. Who in their right mind would try opening a book bound shut with fucking teeth? And they got it from cultists? Are they trying to get their characters killed or are they just dumb?” Eddie stifles his laughter and shakes his head. You’re sure the professor is saying something as she moves to the back of the room but your focus is only on the man next to you. His laugh is more beautiful than any song you’ve heard before. He begins to rock his stool back and forth as he continues to speak.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. We’ve been playing together for years and I think they’re getting more and more reckless as time goes on. At this point they can recognize when I’ve set up a trap and they take it every time just for the hell of it…” so, do you play?”

There’s some shuffling going on in the cabinets in the back of the room as the professor begins pulling out skulls and placing one on each table. Eddie takes the skull and begins looking it over. You hear a quiet, “These are really cool.” You glance over at it and note the size of the skull overall and the lack of a brow ridge, quickly jotting those down before moving your paper closer to Eddie so he can write them down as well.

“I just started recently, it’s me and a few friends. We just saved this sweet little dwarf bookseller named Barnes when these half-elves stole his book cart with him inside it.” You watch Eddie examine the skull, running his fingers along the area where the sagittal crest should be. His rings catch the warm light of the old overhanging lights of the classroom. There was black ink on his hands, or was that oil? You couldn’t tell. His fingers were calloused and you could only guess he was also a musician.

“Barnes, the bookseller, huh? What’s his last name, Noble?” The only response he gets is an eye roll before putting the skull down. “By the way, I think it’s a homo erectus. There’s no crest and its teeth are smaller.” You nod and Eddie hands the skull over for you to examine. You open its mouth to get a better look at the teeth and nod to him, writing ‘homo erectus’ on the paper. The skull remained in your hands and you began inspecting it out of curiosity.

You bring the skull up to eye level and respond to Eddie with a small smirk on your face, “As a matter of fact, it is. Y’know, it’s actually a family business. His father started it and he has a bunch of brothers with the same name. They all have their own book carts in different cities. Honestly, I think they’re gonna be real successful in the future.” The story makes you laugh. The book cart wasn’t meant to be anything more than a place for your crew to gain information on the area but your insistence on “getting to know the locals” to annoy your DM, Emma, led to them creating a character that you felt attached to right away.

He rests his head in his hand and gives you a look that you can’t quite read. He has this smile on his face and this soft look in his eyes that you’ve only ever seen in romance movies when the main characters are starting to fall for each other. It wasn’t something you had the chance to experience yourself, always too nervous to ask people out yourself. Dating apps were totally out of the question because you had only heard horror stories from your friends who had tried it. You open your mouth to continue telling the story and maybe ask Eddie about his own campaigns when your professor pipes up from the front of the classroom.

“Guys, just as a reminder. These skulls are REAL and are ON LOAN TO THE UNIVERSITY and they are VERY EXPENSIVE. Please be careful with them.”

If you were being honest, you should have realized this sooner. It didn’t feel like plastic at all and had small indentations and ridges on it. This was a person. The realization nearly has you dropping the skull that once held someone's brain but thankfully, you were holding it right above the table so there was no chance of it being damaged. A laugh rang out from the seat next to you which took your attention away from what you held in your hands. He’s smiling at you. A big, toothy, beautiful smile and you wish you could look at that smile all day long. He hasn’t been in your life very long, maybe 5 minutes in total, but you were infatuated with him. Once he manages to calm himself down, Eddie slowly reaches out and takes the skull out of your hands.

“Let me take that from you. We can’t have you hurting this guy, can we?” Once the skull was out of your hands, you hang your head low in embarrassment. You feel your face growing warm and pull at the loose strings of your sweater sleeve. You bought it when you first started attending the university and it had been through the wash more times than you could and somehow created a hole in one of the sleeves. The hole was just low enough so you would stick your thumb in it and pick at it, like you were doing right now. Eddie lowers his head a bit to get a better look at you and asks, “So I guess you never realized these were real.”

You reply, face still feeling slightly flushed, “I never really thought about it, but it feels weird… I mean, that was a person,” you reply, pointing to it with your pen as you begin noting the state of its teeth and the sutures on the top of the head, “this guy had hobbies, he had a family, he lived a full life!”

Eddie interjects, turning the skull around to the back to reveal a massive crack in the middle of it. You cringe at the sight of it with Eddie bluntly replying, “I don’t think this guy had a full life. Looks to be cut pretty short to me. This is probably from an axe or some other tool.”

The rest of the class period was spent finishing the lab and learning more about each other. The two of you talked about majoring in history and your love for classical antiquity while he told you about his band and working as a mechanic with his uncle. You also learned that your music tastes were pretty similar, you had a love for rock and metal and even complimented his hoodie (“I’m gonna be completely honest, you do not look like a Slipknot fan.” “Wow, rude.”). It felt as if you had known Eddie your entire life by the time class was drawing to a close. You two were so immersed in your conversation that you didn’t even realize you were one of the last people in the classroom. Eddie unlocked his phone to check the time, allowing you a quick glance at his lock screen with a red guitar on it. Your musician hunch was right. He shoots up from his stool, hissing “Shit shit shit” and begins shoving his stuff into his backpack. You look at him bewildered and he says, “I’m sorry, I need to go. Our session is supposed to start in five minutes and I need to be on the other side of campus right now!” Once his bag was hastily packed and he was pulling his jacket on, Eddie looks at you one last time and gives you a sheepish smile. “I’ll see you next week, right? No, two weeks. I’ll see you in two weeks. It was great to meet you!” You don’t even get the chance to properly say goodbye before he leaves the classroom in a blur of black leather and denim. All you hear is the sounds of heavy boots running through the hallway and out the nearest side door.

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The walk from Eddie’s class to the student center Tuesday night was usually a leisurely one. He always made sure he got out the moment class ended so he would be able to fetch the keys for the multi-purpose room down in the basement and unlock it before everyone else arrived. Eddie always preferred to have everything set up so it was less likely someone could sneak a peek at his notes. He learned his lesson after he arrived a few minutes late and Grant got a peek at his screen and saw their Arakocra guide that was helping them navigate enemy territory was actually a spy for the local warlord. Eddie was a stickler for punctuality (ironic considering how he was always absent in high school) and would rag on anyone that was even five minutes late. Hellfire was meant to start at 8pm sharp and Eddie was rounding the corner in the basement, keys in hand, by 8:07.

By the time he has the key and rounds the corner to their room, he sees everyone standing outside and their heads all turn at once. He honestly found it kind of disturbing.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally arrived,” Gareth said with his arms crossed, “we’re glad to see you could make it.” Eddie doesn’t bother trying to justify his tardiness to him and pushes through to unlock the door and set his stuff down at the end of the table.

Everyone agreed that the drama room back in Hawkins High was definitely more comfortable than their current room and was more aesthetically pleasing. Eddie thrived when he was sitting on that throne. He would have taken it home with him if he could. However, there were some cons to that location that were rarely brought up. They had to lug extra chairs into that room every week and always had to keep their voices down. Sometimes they’d arrive and find out the space was being used for something else that week and they had to cancel the meeting. It was also located in the one part of the school that lacked air conditioning so it became unbearable once the weather started to warm up. Also, the wifi was horrible.

Eddie considered this room to be an upgrade. It wasn’t as nice as the drama room with its white painted brick walls with absolutely nothing on them and the uncomfortable chairs, but he always knew this space would be open since he reserved it for them every Tuesday night. He also appreciated the monitor hanging in front of the tables so he could display the maps and character art he did himself. Yes, they did trade in a very hot room in Hawkins for a very cold one in a basement, but everyone thought it was worth it.

Everyone began to filter into the room and take their respective seats at the long table. There was only one seat open since one of their former players, Ronnie, had transferred to another school at the end of the fall semester so her seat was being used by Jeff. Eddie is working quickly to pull up the necessary resources and load up the map they were using last week with twisting pathways and lakes of lava. He’s filtering out all the chatter around him in order to get everything set up as quickly as possible. Jeff sits down next to him with a box of pastries from the local Dunkin Donuts. They could usually get them for free in the evening since they were about to be thrown out and Jeff was friends with one of the cashiers.

“So… what happened to you?”

Jeff’s question is only heard by Eddie and Doug, Hellfire’s newest member. The rest of the club were busy getting their own materials out and digging dice out of their bags. Eddie could vaguely hear Gareth complaining about losing his own set and having to use one of the sets Eddie brought because ‘Munson always has the weirdest dice, I don’t want to spend tonight staring at dice with a bunch of tiny baby heads in them’. Without looking up from his laptop, Eddie simply replies, “I had a lab and lost track of time, that’s all.”

Jeff doesn’t believe any of this. He and Eddie had been friends since they were both gangly teenagers who got detention for trying to skip gym class. Jeff knew when Eddie was lying - Eddie would always bite at his lip when he wasn’t telling the truth. It wasn’t just a lab. Something must have happened.

Jeff begins to probe Eddie with questions. He knew the only way he’d get Eddie to confess to whatever was going on was by guessing until he got a reaction out of him.

“A lab, interesting… So you weren’t able to finish it in time and that made you late?” Eddie says nothing.

“Did you drop something and get in trouble?” Someone else almost did, but not him. No reaction.

“Did you eat something and get in trouble?” Eddie reaches over to the box of pastries and grabs a boston creme donut.

“Did you meet someone? You found your soulmate?” Eddie pauses as he’s sitting back down in his chair. Bingo. Jeff is shocked. Throughout all the years he had known Eddie, the man was never known to believe in love. There was a girl he met when he was 18 but that never worked out so Eddie assumed he’d live the life of a bachelor. He grew up with parents who hated each other and always seemed to be fighting so he never knew what a healthy relationship looked like. Whenever someone asked about his love life he would brush them off and say it just wasn’t for him. He said it so much that everyone couldn’t help but believe him.

“Oh my god, Eddie Munson is in love.” Jeff says this slowly with a shit-eating grin on his face. He also said this loud enough that everyone else in the room could hear him so all the conversations being held ended at once in favor of learning about this mystery person in Eddie’s life.

“You’re WHAT?”

“I didn’t know you were capable of that.”

“What are they like? What’s their name?”

The group questioning turned into an interrogation that yielded no results. Everyone only stopped once Eddie had finally located the music he needed and drowned their questions out with the sounds of a haunting violin, creaking, and muffled screams.

“Ok, so where were we? Uh, Tayr,” Eddie looks up at Jeff and points his pen at him, “you’re still imprisoned deep underground. You had 7 hit points when we last left off and you said you were planning to break both your ankles to get out of your shackles so I’m holding you to that.” Eddie then turns to Grant and Gareth who are looking annoyed that their friend is ignoring them, but he persists. He has a campaign to run. “Hylbaez, I believe you and Ariver were going to attempt horse stacking to get up to that open window. I don’t know how the two of you plan on doing that without your horses and how you’re gonna reach the 7th floor even if you had your horses with you. You’ve had a week to figure that out.” He looks over his notes one last time before looking up at the group. Nobody appears to be ready to play. No pencils in hand, only a few papers out. Hellfire won’t start until they get what they want. Eddie was really hoping they’d all drop the group questioning but that doesn’t seem like it’s happening anytime soon. With a huff, Eddie rubs his face and gives them all a look of resignation. “Okay, fine. You want to know? There was a girl that sat next to me. She complimented some character art that I’ve been working on and we talked about D&D for a while. I’m gonna try to get her number after spring break. THAT’S IT.”

It’s almost like everyone’s ears perked up when they heard him mention Dungeons & Dragons. Doug puts a hand up as if he’s in class and asks the question that everyone is thinking. “Are you going to invite her to join Hellfire?” It’s a question that Eddie had been asking himself on the hurried walk from class to the student center. Sure, the campaign they were playing had already begun but he could find a way to write you in. He knew he was a good storyteller so it would be a great way to impress you. Sure, he’s no Matthew Mercer or Brennan Lee Mulligan, but he never struggled to keep everyone’s attention and he’s proud of the stories he created.

“I’ll think about it.”

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It had begun raining by the time their session was concluded (the student center was closing) and the shuttles weren’t running tonight so Eddie had to make the mile trek on foot. He didn’t even care that the elevator was broken again. He’ll, he wouldn’t care if it was broken for the rest of the year because he’s pretty sure he found the love of his life today and nothing could dampen his mood. He rushed up the four flights of stairs and fumbled with his keys before coming inside and slamming the front door shut behind him. His backpack was thrown onto the floor with a wet fwump and his bomber jacket followed close behind as he hastily shucked it off him.

Eddie had a routine he usually followed after each Hellfire Club meeting. He would always change into his pajamas, heat up the food he had brought back from the dining halls and make that his dinner, and retreat into his room where he’d go over what happened during their session and tweak his plans for their next meeting if necessary. He did this every week for the past three years he’s been DMing at this school and the only time he ever broke this routine was during finals his freshman year where he was convinced he’d fail if he didn’t dedicate all his time to actually studying. This was the second time he would ever break that routine. Instead of making himself comfortable, he stormed down through their small living space and walked past his own room to barge into the other bedroom.

This was the second year that Steve roomed with Eddie and the first year that they got their own rooms. Since they were so used to sharing a room together, it was second nature for Eddie to rush straight to Steve when he had to tell him something. Thankfully for him, Steve never locked his door so Eddie was able to rush in unannounced and blurted out, “You will NOT believe what happened today!”

Steve was sitting at his desk, still dressed in his red school scrubs from his clinicals earlier in the day with his nose buried in his textbooks. His hair was tied back in a small ponytail, wearing his glasses, and headphones over his ears. When Eddie forced his way into the room, Steve nearly jumped out of his seat and ripped his headphones off his head and was glaring daggers at the other man.

“Do you ever learn to knock?” Eddie ignores the comment from Steve and goes to the other side of the small bedroom to sit down on Steve’s bed, still wearing his damp clothes and definitely tracking mud across the apartment. Steve is only angry for a moment until he sees the giant smile on his friends face. Eddie wasn’t exactly a grumpy person, but Steve hadn’t seen him smiling like that in a long time, probably not since Eddie got Metallica tickets from his Uncle Wayne as a graduation present. He was smiling so much that Steve was sure his face actually hurt. Eddie was beaming just like he was all those years ago.

Eddie’s leg began shaking from excitement as he began speaking, “I think I met my soulmate today. I was in my anthropology class and she sat down next to me and she’s perfect. I mean, first of all, she’s beautiful. She plays Dungeons and Dragons and we like the same music and she’s so fucking funny.” The metalhead then gets up from Steve’s bed and takes the few steps it takes to stand right in front of him. He’s wildly waving his hands around as he recalls everything that you two talked about during that lab. Steve swore Eddie didn’t stop to breathe even once during this entire recollection. As the story starts to wind down, Eddie removed his hair tie from his hair and ran his fingers through his dark locks. He sighs and says, “Honestly man, I didn’t think after Paige that I’d find anyone who I really connected with but she’s different. I don’t feel like I need to hold back when I’m talking to her.” Eddie finally stops talking and takes a breath before moving back to Steve’s bed and flopping down to lay on his sheets, wet hair and all.

Steve fully turns around to face Eddie with an impressed look on his face as he closes his books, asking the other, “I’m happy for you, man. So what’s her name? Did you get her number?” Eddie hears this and his eyes widen, opting to look up at the ceiling rather than Steve. He realizes his horrible, horrible mistake and is kicking himself for hurrying off rather than taking an extra minute to get your name and contact information. His silence prompts Steve to scoot closer in his chair as his tone turns more serious. “Eddie, did you get her number?” Silence. “Her instagram?” Silence. “Snapchat??” Eddie purses his lips, too ashamed to say anything. “Munson, did you get ANYTHING from her??”

Eddie groans and sits up now, rubbing his face and tries to defend himself. “Listen. I was going to be late to Hellfire and I didn’t want to listen to anyone complaining about being late so I just told her I’d see her after spring break. I wasn’t thinking straight! I swear I’ll get her number the moment I see her in two weeks.”

It’s now Steve’s turn to groan and he shakes his head, getting up from his chair and moving to sit next to Eddie and begins to try to reassure his friend, telling him, “Ok, here’s what we’re gonna do. There’s like a missing connections instagram page for the school. You just need to message them and tell them you want to find her and get her contact information. Maybe she’ll see it.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You spent the rest of the week hopelessly searching for Eddie in the massive crowds of students. There were a couple instances of spotting a head of curly brown hair only to be disappointed when you realize it’s not him. There’s about 40,000 students in this school so you wonder why you figured you could just find him casually walking around campus. Your roommate, Elena, suggested looking at your school portal page to see if you can find him on your class page but your professor didn’t enable the ‘Students’ section, only opting for pages that were vital in completing coursework. One of your friends spent two hours scouring Instagram and Facebook convinced that they could find Eddie but came up empty handed. You told everyone you knew what he looked like and what his name was, but he wasn’t in anyone’s classes or in anyone’s dorms. It was like he just vanished into thin air. Elena reassured you that you’d see him in two weeks so all you had to do was wait.

Your search was paused during spring break and put on an indefinite hold when things went downhill. People all over the world were getting sick and you watched in horror as the virus slowly creeped closer to your home state. Then into your county. Spring break was extended for an extra week as the school administration worked to find a solution to keep the staff and student body safe. Schools around the country were shuttering their campuses while yours promised in-person classes would resume shortly but they soon changed their mind. You received an email by week three stating the remainder of the semester would be spent online and you needed to pack up your dorm room. The administration was unable to confirm if you’d be returning to campus in the fall. At this point, both you and Eddie came to the conclusion that you’d never see the other person again and it would take a miracle for you two to reunite.

————————————————————————

I’m not sorry

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #scripsi #eddie munson series

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blue-jisungs · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! Loved the BTS arguing abt paying could u do it for skz??

arguing about paying ♡

author's note. thank uuu!! i hope u’ll like this one ^_^

psssst anon is talking about this thing here

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

yeah actually you won’t be able to pay for anything

like, ever

he’s just ??? using the leader card + it’s just how he is + the gentleman in him would rather die than let you pay

so even when you whine that you hate it and you can handle paying on your own

he’s cooing and shaking his head while the payment is already processed

and if you pout about it later, he’ll make sure to kiss the pout away ^_^

┆彡 MINHO [ 민호 ]

would rather bite his hand off than let you pay on a date

or bite you when you were about to pay…? totally did not happen at least twice…?

he’d get actually offended if you even offered to pay for the meal you two had

so he pays with a :] look on his face while you’re grumpy abt it

“what kind of boyfriend would i be then, hm?” asks and promises that in return, you can choose what you’re gonna have for dessert

whatever logic that is

┆彡 CHANGBIN [ 창빈 ]

you know that half amused half shocked half offended face he makes??

help idk how to explain it 😭

yeah that’s exactly the face he makes when you pay for your cosmetics

he’s like???

“you just offended my ego”

help ??

he’s SO dramatic about like ,, acts as if you shot him

he’ll have his hand on the small of your back, carrying your bags and he just pays for you with a goofy grin

“let me spoil my baby, hm?” is all he says with a handsome smile and you cave in bc he just has that effect on you…

┆彡 HYUNJIN [ 현진 ]

drama llama.

gasps like he’s running out of air as you put the card to the scanner

you and the cashier are both like 🤨

when you leave the store he’s whining and clinging onto you as if you’re dying

for your own sake pls let him pay next time,, always

will actually threaten you to hold his breath next time 🧍‍♀️

bc he just wants to spoil you >:)

┆彡 JISUNG [ 지성 ]

ji would let you pay for your makeup shopping

but then he’d feel bad :(

so next time when you’re about to pay for some clothes, he’s softly grabbing your hand and offers to pay

he literally looks like this > 🥺 so you have to agree

and that’s his trick: puppy eyes. no one can resist them :”)

┆彡 FELIX [ 필릭스 ]

“there’s naur way i’m letting you pay for all of that” is what he says when you two ordered like a half of the menu

so your response is to split the bill

he starts LAUGHING SO LOUD and refuses 😑

so he pays but “promises” you that you’ll be the one paying next time

and NEXT TIME looks literally the same

“nooo i ate most of it, i’ll pay” mhm.

he’ll come up with every excuse in the book so you don’t pay <\3

┆彡 SEUNGMIN [ 승민 ]

he’s making a poker face as soon as you even start asking if you should pay

and even when he’ll say no and you’ll STILL try

welp…

the waiter in the cafe said that your order was already payed.

and same thing happens literally everytime

seungmo somehow manages to pay in advance so um… good luck

┆彡 JEONGIN [ 정인 ]

will cry scream throw up if you say that you want to pay

eyes wide, mouth agape

“if you pay…… i’m breaking up with you!!!” he whines and adds something about his chivalry being dishonoured

um so yeah another whiny dramatic baby

and if you cave in and let him pay, he’s the happiest ever

acting as if he just saved your life and not paid for the bagel you got

masterlist <3

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang ,, @vnsux

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gremlingottoosilly · 11 months ago

Note

How would König react if wifey asked to stack doughnuts on it or wrap a fruit roll up around it?

Terrified! Confused! Mad! ...lightly intrigued. All things considered, he likes your fascination with his cock. Makes him feel cool and manly, with a dick that can impress his precious little girlfriend so much - honestly, he was kinda okay with you being obsessed with it, at first. This is what you're supposed to do as a girlfriend, right?? Then you bought him a pack of doughnuts and he is totally fine, he wouldn't say no to a sugary treat after the training, or maybe even a bit of food play during sex...and he guesses you got him a bit too deliberate, because now you're begging him to let you stuck this whole box on his cock. First of all, he tells you with disbelief in his tone - it wouldn't even fit! He is a thick man with a thick cock, and you'd have to manually make the donut hole bigger so it could fit. Second, he just doesn't understand why you would want to waste perfectly good food on something so silly! He knew you were his weird pretty girl, he loves you for it - but the feeling of sugary roll up around the sensitive veins of his cock...no, thanks. Besides, he is almost terrified at the thought of you wanting to take a bite out of treat and then chomping on his cock instead. You might sell him this idea, however...much later, of course, if he is drunk enough and wants to cheer you up. Maybe you were really sad about something, maybe you just had a bad day - but he would carefully enlarge the holes in pack of big bagels he bought, just so you could try to stuck at least a few...he is willing to bear the uncomfortableness if it means his precious girlfriend is getting the best laugh of her life!! And especially if you're going to clean his dick after...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader

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tonyspank · 2 years ago

Text

STARGAZING

Warnings: fluff, a bit of smut, reader has leg & back tattoos, and reader calls donuts overrated LOL

Reader also has a pp 😱

Summary: You finally hang out with Jenna off duty.

Every weekday morning was the same. You'd wake up, go to the station, talk to some of your fellow officers, maybe even your captain, then stop at the same café. You'd order the same coffee and pastry, and sit down at the same table, with the same company.

Jenna was wonderful company too. Her eyes would light up whenever you walked through the door, uniform on and everything. It was your own little ritual, one that you looked forward to every day. You'd talk about your days, your hopes, and your ambitions.

It was a sense of comfort, one that you could always count on. You could tell that Jenna was always genuinely happy to see you. That smile that you grew to love over the past year would never leave her face when you were near.

You shared a special bond with Jenna that was unlike any other, regardless if you only hung out at the café. It was like home. You'd come in the morning, or afternoon for lunch, maybe even stop by before clocking out.

"Here's your breakfast bagel and coffee, just how you like it." You look away from the window, Jenna grins, placing down your food. "Thank you." You both exchange a look, and you can't help but smile at the girl in front of you.

Jenna sits down across from you, resting her hand on her hands as you take a bite of the bagel, savoring the taste and everything that it represents. "Aren't cops supposed to eat donuts? Not bagels?" You smirk and take a sip of coffee. "Donuts are overrated," you reply, then take another bite of the bagel.

Jenna laughs. "I guess you have a point," she says. "So, how's Chris?" You snort at the question. You had told Jenna about how another officer had to go on a two-week break due to the fact that Chris had broken his butt bone. Jenna laughs at you, her smile widening even more.

"He was in a lot of pain but he's doing better now." Jenna shakes her head, still laughing. "Have you ever seen anyone break their butt bone before?" You ask, still chuckling. Jenna shakes her head. "Nope, can't say I have."

You both laugh, still, in disbelief at the situation Chris had gotten himself into.

Chris had a good sense of humor about it, though, and it was relieving to have a good laugh about it. You both shared a moment of understanding, knowing that accidents happen and it could have been any of you.

You take a sip of your coffee, nearly moaning at the taste. "Your coffee completely beats the Starbucks I had yesterday." Jenna smiles but lets out a dramatic gasp, "You went to Starbucks and not here? I'm honestly hurt!" You laugh and take another sip, "Your coffee's better, I promise. I'll never make that mistake again."

"Good, you know I take good care of you." You smile, feeling the warmth of the coffee and the warmth of her words. "I know you do," you reply. She smiles back and the two of you sit in comfortable silence. After a few minutes, you finish up your bagel, crumbling the trash up.

"What do you do when you're not saving the city?" Jenna asks randomly. You pause for a moment, taken aback by her question. You take a sip of your coffee before responding, "I uh, just walk around...maybe hang out at home, why?"

Jenna shrugs. "Just curious. It seems like you're always in your uniform. It's nice to hear you take some time to relax." You smile, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah...I guess I just like the feeling of doing something meaningful."

You then pause, thinking about how to word your next sentence. "It makes me feel like I'm doing something with my life."

Jenna nods in understanding. "I get it. Everyone needs a purpose to feel fulfilled." You take a deep breath. "I don't feel like I'm drifting anymore." Jenna smiles. "That's great. You've found something that makes you feel alive, and that's all that matters." You smile, subconsciously grabbing Jenna's hand that rests on the table.

"Maybe tomorrow we could hang out and relax together." Jenna nods, squeezing your hand. "I'd like that. Now I can finally see you outside of your uniform." You nod in agreement, the two of you still smiling.

You both laugh, and you feel your heart swell. Your shared laughter is infectious, and you can't help but feel a sense of joy and warmth spread through your chest.

You look into each other's eyes, your smiles still lingering on your faces. You feel an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a connection that you can't explain.

You clear your throat, letting go of the girl's hand and start gathering your stuff. "Well, I gotta go save the city now. I'll um...I'll pick you up tomorrow from work. What time do you get off?"

She smiles and says, "I get off at three. I'll be waiting for you." You nod at her words, sending a small smile. With one last glance, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there, still smiling.

You were right on time, three o'clock on the dot, waiting for Jenna outside of the café. Jenna emerged from the café, a smile still lighting up her face. You got off your motorcycle, taking off your helmet. You waved to Jenna, who waved back. "No! I wanted to ride in the police cruiser!" Jenna teased you as she brought you into a hug.

You laughed and hugged her back. "Maybe next time," you said as you mounted your motorcycle. You pulled Jenna onto the back of your bike and handed her your helmet. She gave you a tight squeeze, then put the helmet on.

You felt her arms wrap around your waist as you started the engine and drove off the wind buffeted you as you travelled, and you felt Jenna's embrace tighten with each passing mile.

You pulled up to your destination, and Jenna hopped off the back of the bike. "Where are we?" She questioned, looking around at the greeny area.

You smiled at her and said, "This is my secret spot. I wanted to share it with you." Jenna's face lit up with joy as she looked around, taking in the beauty of the place. You held out your hand, and she took it before looking up at you with a smile. "C'mon, I set up a picnic."

You led Jenna down the path, and soon you arrived at the clearing with the picnic set up. Jenna was amazed, and you smiled as you watched her in admiration. "This is insane." Jenna turned to you with a look of awe. "How did you do this?" she asked.

You simply smiled and replied, "It's my pleasure. A return for your wonderful company and coffee this past year."

Jenna smiled and hugged you tightly. You enjoyed the moment, feeling content and grateful for the friendship you had built. When she pulled away you gestured her to sit, joining her shortly after and reaching inside the basket.

You pulled out a container of fruit, sandwiches, and a bottle of sparkling cider. She laughed, delighted by the surprise. "I am... astonished... honestly."

You laugh before raising your glass. "To Jenna's amazing coffee and bagels!" She smiled and raised her glass to yours, clinking them together. "To my coffee and bagels," she said, and you both took a sip.

You both shared a laugh and put your glasses down. Jenna looked at you and said, "I didn't know you had tattoos." You chuckled glancing at your legs, "Yeah, I usually have to cover them for work. I also have one on my back."

Jenna smiled and said, "Really? Can I see?" You nod in response. Jenna quickly gets up, kneeling behind you. She gently moved your shirt and her eyes widened. "That's a really awesome design."

You smile and reply, "Thanks." Her hands begin tracing the tattoo and you can't help but shiver from her touch. You turn your head slightly, meeting Jenna's face as she places her hands on your shoulder, her face only inches away from yours.

"It looks so good on you." You blush and thank her again. She gets up, moving back to her original spot. She smiles. "I'm really glad you decided to get it. It suits you."

You nod in agreement, feeling a warmth inside that you hadn't felt in a long time. "Could you pass me a grape?" Jenna reaches into the fruit container, a grab in her hand. "Catch it."

You open your mouth, trying to fight back a smile. "You think I won't catch it? I was pro at this in high school."

The grape flew in the air, and you caught it, your reflexes still sharp. You grinned in satisfaction, and Jenna clapped her hands in surprise. "That was impressive!" she exclaimed.

"Here you try." Jenna hands you the container before preparing herself to catch the grape. You took a grape from the container and threw it up in the air. Jenna's reflexes were still a bit rusty, but she managed to catch it with her hands.

"Cheater! You gotta catch it with your mouth." You quickly grabbed another grape, throwing it at Jenna, unfortunately, it fell short. Jenna tried her best to catch it, but it was too late. "Damnit!" She laughs, her hands resting on your thighs.

She pouted playfully. "I feel like a loser." You shake your head, keeping your eyes on her as you reach into the container for a strawberry.

"Here's a reward for trying." You hold out the strawberry to hand it to her, but instead, she bites it from your hand, her eyes on you the entire time.

She lets out a small moan at the sweet taste of the berry, dramatically rolling her eyes. "So good." Her own hands reach into the container, picking out a strawberry. "Try one."

You couldn't even protest before she holds the strawberry to your lips, her left hand still resting on your thigh. You take a bite, the juice of the strawberry running down the corner of your mouth.

She gently wipes it away with her thumb, her eyes never leaving yours. You can't help but blush at her closeness. "Mmm..." You hum, nodding your head, approving of the taste. She smiles at your reaction, her hand still lingering on your thigh.

Her eyes leave yours, moving to your thigh. "Did this one hurt?" She asks, her finger tracing over the tattoo on your upper thigh. You take a deep breath, feeling her gentle touch. "A bit," you reply, your voice barely audible. She nods, giving you a reassuring smile.

She pauses for a moment, her eyes locked on yours. "Jenna..." you whisper out, swallowing the lump in your throat. She nods, telling you to go on. "Can I kiss you?" Again, she nods, causing you to smile. You lift your hand to caress her cheek before closing the distance and pressing your lips to hers.

You feel her arms wrap around your neck, her breathing becoming more shallow. She parted her lips slightly, deepening the kiss. You felt like you could stay there forever, lost in the moment. You eventually pull away, both of you breathless. You smile at her, and she smiles back, her cheeks blushing.

You both laugh nervously, and she leans her forehead against yours. You stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, feeling a connection that was unexpected yet undeniable. You stay like that for a while, just enjoying the moment and savoring the feeling.

"Fuck the police?" She mumbles, biting down on her lip. You can't help but chuckle. "Fuck the police."

And fuck the police was she doing. "Shit, Jenna..." You whine out, grabbing her hips. She grins, pushing you back onto the bed. "You know you love it," She says, her lips curving into a smirk.

She moves her hips, and you gasp, lost in the moment. You grip her hips and pull her closer, letting out a moan as she continues her movements. "Fuck me."

"I am, baby." She laughs before letting out a loud moan. "You're so big, fuck." Her hand moves from your core to your thigh, and her movements become faster and more intense, pushing you closer to the edge.

She's clearly enjoying the experience, her movements are becoming more passionate as your pleasure intensifies. You can feel her desire to bring you to the peak of pleasure and you give in to it, letting her take you there.

"I'm cumming!" She yells out, her grip on your thigh tightening. Her back arches as she rides you, her muscles tense as her orgasm takes over her body. You can feel her body shudder against yours as she comes down from her high and collapses against your chest. You wrap your arms around her, before flipping her over on her back.

You start to move inside of her again, your movements slow and gentle. She moans softly, her eyes half open, her breathing heavy. You kiss her gently, your lips lingering at the moment as you both enjoy the sensations of being together. She wraps her arms around you and pulls you closer, her fingers tracing circles on your back, over your tattoo.

She looks up at you, her eyes full of love and desire, and you know she'll remember this moment forever. You kiss her again, this time more passionately and with more urgency. You both know there's no need to rush; the night is still young and you both have all the time in the world.

You begin trailing kissing down her neck as your hips move slowly against hers, her breathing becoming heavier as her hands grip your shoulders. You whisper in her ear softly, "You feel so good, Jen."

She moans in response, her fingers running through your hair as you press your lips against her collarbone. You feel her body quiver beneath you as your hands travel down her curves. Finally, you meet her gaze, and she smiles.

"Faster, Y/N..." she whines, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. You comply, increasing your movements, and soon she's clinging onto you, her breath coming out in short gasps. "Yes, fuck." You can feel her body quivering beneath you, her grip on your shoulders tightening with each thrust. She screams out your name, her head thrown back in pleasure as you hit the right spot.

"Right there, shit. I'm about to cum again." You continue to move inside her, your body responding to her every whim. You lean down, your lips seeking hers as you both reach the peak of pleasure together.

She cries out your name, her voice low and husky as she comes down again, her eyes closed and a satisfied smile playing on her lips. You collapse onto her, both of you panting and sweaty as you bask in the afterglow.

You stay like that for a few moments before you reluctantly pull away, looking into her eyes with love and admiration. You give her a gentle kiss on the forehead, a silent promise of more to come before you both drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was now morning time and you leaned against Jenna's kitchen counter, sipping on a mug of coffee she made for you as she took in your features.

She smiled lovingly at you before speaking up. "I could get used to this. You just walk around my place in your underwear, showing off your body and tattoos."

You chuckled, feeling a warmth inside your chest that made you feel like you were home. You grabbed her hand and pulled her close, pressing your lips against hers. "Me too." You placed another kiss on her lips before pulling away.

"Hungry?" She smiled and nodded. You stood up and began walking to the fridge, but Jenna stopped you. "No, baby. I'm hungry for you." Your eyebrows raise in surprise, "Oh."

#wattpad #tonyspank #reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna x y/n #jenna x g!p reader #gp #g!p reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Wicked Games 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You open the cupboard and rummage through the contents. Rice crackers, no. Protein powder, please. You scoff and find what looks to be chocolate but as you rip the wrapper open and bite into it, the bitterness nearly gags you. You rush to the sink and spit it out.

“Glad to see you making yourself at home,” Steve muses from the doorway.

You look to him and fold the wrapper back around the bar. You scowl and go to put it back. You shake your head.

“I’m starving,” you say. “So hungry it hurts.”

You rub your stomach as a wave of dizziness bobbles your head. Between waves of nausea and fatigue, the ravenous need consumes you. You search around, forgetting him for the pang in your stomach. You pull open the fridge and pull out the yogurt. You peel the lid off and grab the sugar dish and pour it into the container.

“Woah, woah, that’s not good for the baby,” Steve rushes forward.

“Don’t,” you warn as you slide open drawers in search of a spoon, “do you have pickles?”

“Pickles? With yogurt?”

“I’m fucking hungry!” You growl, a surge of rage searing through your veins as you grab a spoon. “If I have to be here, let me eat, at least.”

“I don’t mind you eating, but you gotta be careful--”

“Pickles,” you remind him.

“Don’t got any, sorry. But I can go grab some, I guess. If you make a list--”

He gets closer and you recoil. You wave your hand at him and plug your nose, “don’t come any closer.”

“Excuse me?” He grimaces.

“Your cologne or something. It’s setting me--”

You spin and hold the spoon behind you as you puke into the sink. Your body lurches with each violent wretch. The bile does little to deter your appetite. You simply rinse out your mouth and the sink and go back to the hunt for satiation.

“They said the symptoms will probably be worse than usual,” he leans on the counter and watches you. “Nausea, hunger, hormones...”

“Goddamn? Ice cream? Do you have ice cream?” You snarl down at the freezer drawer.

“I’m not much of a sweets guy.”

“No pickles, no ice cream. Baking chocolate and sour yogurt.” You rant.

“I told you, I’ll go get you some stuff-”

“Then go.” You snap.

“Hey, watch it.”

“Or what?” You face him defiantly. “I’m carrying your baby, Steve Rogers, so you can’t do shit.��

“I can do whatever needs to be done. You might require bedrest.”

“Bedrest? I’m fine.” You insist and turn your back to him.

“You’re tearing apart my kitchen and slathering like a dog,” he reproaches.

“Slathering like a dog? Tell me again about how in love you are.” You snip, “Jeez.”

“I didn’t mean—honey, sweetheart, I’m just trying to help you settle. We both gotta learn to live with each other. We only got seven months or so to do so.” He crosses his arms as you pull out the loaf of bread and load the toaster.

“Hmm, you know what will help me settle in? Peanut butter and jelly. Oh and cream cheese. Mmph, yes,” you march around the kitchen and grab the butter. “Also, oreos--bagels!”

“Okay, I’ll head out,” he sniffs and shifts flat on his feet.

“Great,” you go back to the toaster as the scent of the browning bread drives you wild.

He approaches you from behind and you do your best to ignore him. You bounce on your heels impatiently and tap your fingers. You stiffen as he rests his hands on your hips. You have nowhere to go.

“A kiss before I go?” He asks.

You hold back a heave, “I just puked.”

“I don’t care,” he squeezes, “please. It’s been a while since that night. I’m a bit... neglected.”

You lock your jaw and stare at the tiled wall. You force the tension out and steel yourself. You turn to him and your insides coil uncomfortably.

“Fine,” you croak.

He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You hold back an eruption of disgust. Objectively, he’s handsome. He is the great golden Captain America but you’ve seen the real him. You’ve seen his callousness, his cruelty. You have witnessed his delusion. You wonder if the serum did that too.

The toast pops and you tear away just as his tongue pokes out. You grab the butter knife and take the lid off the container. You slide out a hot slice and spread the dairy across it. He sighs and looms close.

“Anything else I can get?” He asks.

“Just food. Lots of food,” you say as you shove a piece of toast in your mouth. “Mmm, ohmagrddddd.”

“Alright, I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” you munch loudly.

Maybe that will keep him away. If you can make yourself as gross as possible, you won’t have to worry about him begging for kisses and touches. Right now, you don’t want anyone near you.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #wicked games #series #drabble

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saraicus · 6 months ago

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Pastries, With Love | Morpheus x F! Reader

Warning: Pregnancy mention

Requested by: None

Notes: Sorry for the long hiatus. This was a cut scene from the “So, Mote It Be” series that I recently found. You don’t have to read the series to understand this part!

If you'd like to be a part of “The Sandman” tag list, just ask me. Requests are Closed.

Word count: 1.8K

Masterlist

You could see the familiar pathway to the doors until your nose picked up something. Sweet berries with sweet bread filled your nose, and you looked to your right to see a bakery. A baker had placed a dozen blueberry muffins inside the display case; you quickly let go of Morpheus’ hand and rushed inside the bakery. Morpheus called your name, but you ignored it and entered the bakery. The store smelled of sweet, ripe berries and baked goods, with a faint smell of chocolate and coffee. The frontman smiled at you and asked, “Hello, what can I get for you?” Your mouth began to drool as you looked around the bakery to take everything in. There were muffins, bagels, loaves of fresh bread, cinnamon rolls, pies of every fruit, and cakes filing every display case. You looked around and asked, “Can I have half a dozen blueberry muffins, a slice of blueberry pie, two cinnamon rolls, and a cup of coffee?” The man’s eyes widened, and he whispered okay before getting a box to fill with what you requested.

The doorbell rang when Morpheus came inside; he walked next to you and said, “Don’t run away like that again; you scared me.” You smiled sheepishly and giggled at his face; he sighed and looked at the baked goods. “What did you order?” he asked while walking around the bakery. “An order of half a dozen blueberry muffins, a slice of blueberry pie, two cinnamon rolls, and a warm cup of coffee for the lady,” announced the man as he set it down by the table, “That should be 20 silvers.” Morpheus’ eyes widened, and he looked at you; you didn’t look at him and smiled at the man. Morpheus sighed and pulled out his pouch to give the man the money; the man smiled as Morpheus grabbed the two boxes, and you grabbed the coffee. You gave the man an energized wave goodbye and smiled while sipping your coffee.

“Are you sure you’re going to eat this all?” Morpheus asked while walking back to the doors, “Isn’t this unhealthy for the child?” You looked at him with your cold eyes and narrowed them. Sipping the coffee, you shook your head; no, he sighed and opened the doors for you. Morpheus walked to the kitchen with you trailing behind and placed them on the kitchen island. You heard the familiar wings flapping and saw Matthew land on the island. “Oh, I thought I smelled something,” he said while swaying his tail, “What did you get?” Morpheus opened the boxes to show off the baked goods you got, and Matthew’s beak dropped. You took the blueberry muffins out of the box and the blueberry pie slice while Morpheus took out the cinnamon rolls.

You grabbed a muffin and slid it in Matthew’s direction; before he took a bite, you said, “Choke on it, and I won’t save you.” Matthew nodded and slowly ate the muffin while you took a bite out of the blueberry pie. Your eyes closed, and you smiled as the blueberry pie melted on your tongue; you could tell you would throw up afterward from the excess baked goods, but it was worth it. Morpheus decided to take a small bite out of a blueberry muffin and shrugged. Your eyes shifted to him, and you asked, “What? It’s good.”

“An Endless doesn’t need to eat. It’s a good muffin, I think.” Morpheus replied while placing the muffin back in the box. You rolled your eyes, ate the pie slice, and then ate two muffins while sipping your coffee. Matthew slowly pecked on his muffin and looked up to see your eyes glaring at him. After finishing the muffins, you were about to reach for a cinnamon roll until Morpheus pushed them away. “(Y/N), you should eat your vegetables,” Morpheus said with a sigh. “How about you mind your business?” you said in a sassy tone, “I’m pregnant, and this baby wants a cinnamon roll.” Matthew laughed and almost choked on his muffin until he spat it out. Morpheus gave him a side-eye, which made Matthew stop laughing. “I want to make sure the baby is healthy,” he explained, “I don’t want anything happening to the baby.”

You looked at him and patted his cheek while slowly reaching for the roll. Morpheus’ eyes narrowed when he saw you take a bite of the roll in front of him. “I’ve been eating healthy for the past couple of months. The only baked goods I’ve eaten were blueberry muffins. I wanted more than that,” you said, “Besides, a pregnant woman should always get her cravings.”

Morpheus huffed and said, “Make sure to eat slowly, then. I will be in the library with Lucienne if you need anything.” You nodded and began to eat the second cinnamon roll while Matthew was still on his first muffin. It took you two hours to finish the baked goods with Matthew; he was lying on his back with his wings spread out. You were sitting in a chair while rubbing your stomach. ‘Damn it, Morpheus was right.’ You thought to yourself. You scold yourself for eating all the baked goods, but it was worth it because you could feel your baby kicking. “Looks like the baby is happy,” you gushed, with Matthew groaning in response. You hear footsteps coming into the kitchen and see Morpheus enter it. He looked around, and his face cringed when he saw Matthew lying down. “Matthew,” asked Morpheus, “How do you feel?”

“I feel great.” Matthew managed to groan. Morpheus hummed and looked at you; he saw you were drinking milk and rubbing your stomach. “How do you feel?” He asked while kneeling in front of you; he placed his hand on top of your stomach and then gave it a soft kiss. “I feel fine; the baby kicked earlier. I assume they liked the baked goods,” you said while patting your stomach. Morpheus hummed and moved his hand around your stomach, hoping to feel the baby kick. After a few minutes, Morpheus placed his hand on the left side of your stomach and gasped. Morpheus looked up at you and said, “They kicked.” You nodded and said, “I felt it, Morpheus.” Morpheus softly smiled and helped you get up from the chair; he rubbed your lower back and led you back to his chambers. You looked behind you to see Matthew still hadn’t moved, but you could hear faint snoring. You were tired when you reached the chamber, so Morpheus took you to bed and removed your lace shawl to place it on the nightstand. You went under the covers and asked him to lay next to you. Morpheus climbed on the bed, and you laid your head against his chest. Morpheus looked at you with pure love. That was the best way to describe it. “Thank you for helping me find my real self,” Morpheus whispered in your ear.

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pixiefelixie · 29 days ago

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𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "TUESDAY"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out.

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: felix + reader are intended to be 17-18, established relationship, fluff, underaged drinking at a party (again), very very suggestive (marking, tons of making out) under 16 dni, indirect mention of sex but nothing happens, sorry this chapter is so long 😭 important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

series masterlist

previous / next (let me know if you would like to be added to the series taglist!)

chapter under the cut! ~13k words

day 3 - 10:30

from what you could remember from last night, surely felix couldn't have been that drunk. you had to have been blackout drunk to forget last night's events. however, felix did remember most of it. he remembered the way griff feinted a hit to scare you, his hands stopping just short of your face. and he even remembered the kiss you two had under the fireworks, which he described as "super hot". but somehow, he completely forgot about the most important thing—the thing that had left you staring at him, waiting for a response with a knot in your stomach.

"wait—so you don't have any memory of the promise?" you asked him, your voice strained with disbelief. you stared at him, expecting him to laugh or at least offer some kind of apologetic look. but instead, felix nonchalantly shook his head, as if the whole night was just another ordinary evening to him. he took a casual bite out of his blueberry bagel, letting crumbs tumble onto the plate below it.

"i mean, if you could give me some context, i might have a clue," he said, shrugging casually, completely unfazed.

you groaned, burying your face in your hands in frustration. of all the things you had hoped for today, this was the last thing you wanted to deal with. explaining last night to felix felt like stepping into a trap you had no idea how to escape. how could you even bring it up? what were you supposed to say? well, felix, you told me you loved me and kinda threw a marriage proposal at me! the thought made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

"well, you said some things last night," you began slowly, your voice quieter now, as you gathered the courage to push through. "and we agreed to talk about it today." you stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression remained completely neutral, unbothered by the conversation you were trying to have.

"i really wish i knew what you were talking about so i could engage in this conversation with you, but unfortunately, i have zero idea!" felix exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense as if he didn’t realize the gravity of the situation.

"so you wanna know what you said to me?" you queried.

felix shrugged and took another bite out of his bagel. "i mean now that i think about it. do i really wanna know?" he said, his voice muffled by food, making you want to scream.

you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. this was ridiculous. how could he be so careless about something so important? "you're unbelievable," you muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough that it almost felt like you were talking to yourself.

but as you stared at him, something felt off. you weren’t stupid. there was something fishy about his reaction. his complete lack of curiosity about what he'd said or what had happened—maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t remember. it was that he didn’t seem to care enough to find out.

was he purposefully avoiding the topic? maybe he was too scared to confront what he’d said, or maybe it just didn’t matter enough to him.

you’d kept quiet, too, trying to protect yourself from the awkwardness that might follow. you hadn’t even mentioned what he’d said to you. you hadn’t shared how you felt when those words had left his lips, how they had shaken something deep inside you. so, maybe you weren’t exactly innocent in all this. you hadn’t opened up either.

your thoughts swirled, caught between feeling confused by felix’s reaction and frustrated by your own silence. neither of you had taken that first step toward addressing the elephant in the room. and in the stillness of the morning, you realized that maybe neither of you was ready to face it yet.

felix watched you carefully, his lips parting like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated. then, as if deciding to let it slide, he quickly changed the subject. “by the way…” his tone shifted, lighter now, almost hesitant.

you glanced over your shoulder at him, your eyebrow arched. “yeah?”

a small smile tugged at his lips, his freckles catching the sunlight in a way that made him look softer. “thank you,” he said simply.

you blinked, confused. “for what?”

“for standing up for me last night. when griff was being… you know.” felix’s voice faltered slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. he scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “i don’t think i would’ve ever said anything myself,” he admitted with a small laugh. “it was lowkey badass.”

you chuckled softly, setting your mug down on the counter. “well, someone had to do it.”

“sorry, i wasn’t much help, though. i was so out of it,” he said, his tone apologetic.

you waved him off with a smile. “it’s fine. honestly, it was kind of fun.”

felix raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with a teasing smirk. “you like arguing with people, don’t you?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “well, no. not really. i don’t go looking for a fight or anything. ”

“oh, sure,” felix said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “you were just so reluctant to call griff out in front of everyone.”

you narrowed your eyes playfully, crossing your arms over your chest. “i had to. there’s a difference between picking a fight and needing to speak up. but i guess you’re right. it’s fun knowing that you get to put someone in their place, you know?”

felix nodded in agreement before his voice turned soft again. “i really am sorry, though,” he said quietly. “for being useless. you had to deal with griff and me at the same time… i should’ve been better.”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “really sorry?”

“as sorry as i can get,” he confessed, his voice steady but quieter now like he meant every word.

“i think there’s a way to prove you’re not completely useless.”

felix blinked. “oh? and what’s that?”

you stepped closer, closing the gap between you with a sly smile. “i think a kiss would help show your worth, sunshine,” you said, your voice sweet.

felix’s eyes lit up, his mouth curving into a cute smile. “is that so?” he murmured, already leaning in.

“just to be thorough,” you added.

“with pleasure,” he whispered.

he didn’t need to be told twice. felix leaned in, his hand brushing your wrist before deciding to clasp your fingers in his, holding them lightly between you. his lips met yours in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened, the kind of kiss that made your heart race and sent warmth spreading through your entire body.

his free hand found its way to the back of your neck, his touch featherlight as though he was afraid of overstepping. the world around you seemed to melt away. the soft scent of his cologne, the warmth of his lips, the way his thumb gently grazed your knuckles—it all made your stomach twist in the best way.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath coming in short, warm puffs against your skin. his dark eyes flickered to yours, and a grin tugged at his pink lips.

“thorough enough?” he asked his voice low.

you let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath. “yeah, very,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

his dark eyes searched yours, his smile softening as he took in your expression. then, without another word, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, leaving you dizzy and breathless all over again.

when he pulled back, his gaze flicked to your cheeks, now flushed a deep pink. his smile turned into a full-on grin, and a playful laugh escaped him. “you’re blushing,” he teased, his voice light and affectionate.

you felt your cheeks heat even more, and before you could come up with your usual retorts, felix cooed softly, his teasing tone making your embarrassment worse.

“aww, don’t hide it,” he said with a laugh, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, easy hug. you froze for a second before melting into him, your face buried against his shoulder as his scent wrapped around you.

“felix, shut up,” you muttered against his shirt, though there was no real bite in your words.

he chuckled again, resting his chin lightly on the top of your head. “what? it’s cute,” he said, his voice smug.

you sighed, your lips curving into a smile despite yourself. “you’re so annoying,” you mumbled, though you didn’t move to pull away.

“what happened to the tough girl from yesterday, mm?” he teased, his voice low. “the one who told off griff without even blinking? where’d she go?”

you pushed him away, narrowing your eyes, “she’s gonna kill you,” you said, looking up at him.

felix’s grin only grew as he looked down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “you’re so scary,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t miss a beat.

felix let out a sharp, dramatic hiss as your fingers pinched his arm hard enough to make him flinch. he gasped, biting his lip. “ah—okay, okay! i’m sorry.”

day 3 - 19:00

by the time 7 pm rolled around, the sun was beginning its slow descent, casting warm hues over the water and sand. the day had been nothing short of productive. you first went paddle boarding at noon, the crystal-clear water below while you snapped countless photos with your camera. you could see schools of tiny fish darting under your board, their silvery scales flashing in the sunlight.

fishing came next, and felix took it far more seriously than expected—at least until he caught one. his yell echoed across the water as he held up a ridiculously small fish, his grin so wide it was impossible not to laugh. that is until he leaned in and kissed the fish’s slimy mouth, making you gag.

afterward, tanning became the perfect way to wind down. you both stretched out on towels, as you took turns rubbing sunscreen on each other’s backs. the two of you chatted about everything and nothing, your voices mingling with the sound of seagulls squawking as if they wanted to join in on your conversation. at one point it turned into a gossip session, both of you spilling drama about high school back in sydney. felix whispering in your ear as if there were people around you and dropping the bomb of a certain teacher spending too much time with one of the students.

the tide crept closer by each hour, signaling that the day wasn’t quite over yet. there was still more to come. at around 21:30, the two of you had plans to attend a birthday party on a yacht—one of felix’s old friends was celebrating in typical over-the-top fashion, and you were both invited because their parents were connected to felix’s.

felix came from money. you’d always known that; it was evident in the way he carried himself, in the lovely beach house where you were staying, with its polished wood interiors and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the ocean like a painting. but it wasn’t something you questioned. to you, felix was just felix—playful, sweet, and a little bit reckless, no matter how gilded the edges of his world seemed.

now, as the sun dipped lower, the promise of sunset hung in the air. it had become your quiet tradition, something neither of you ever put into words. sunset was your favorite time of day, and somehow, you both just knew that about each other.

felix had promised to take you to the cove to watch it, a little secluded spot just down the beach. the party would come later, with its loud music, glittering lights, and crowded yacht decks, but this? this was your moment, one that belonged only to the two of you.

the walk to the cove was anything but smooth. the path wound between jagged rocks, some of which jutted up like teeth, forcing you to climb over them while also struggling to stay upright. algae clung to the stones in slippery patches, squishing under your sandals.

“this is a bit more intense than i expected,” you muttered, glancing at felix, who was a few steps ahead.

“the best spots take a little work to get to. you’ll see.”

then, just as you stepped onto a flat stretch of rock, something slender shifted near your feet. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes darted down.

a snake. a long, thick snake slithered across the rock, its scales catching the last glimmers of sunlight.

“what the heck!” you yelped, stumbling back a step as your heart raced.

without thinking, you bolted toward him, grabbing his bicep with both hands and leaning into him as if he were a shield against the creature.

he immediately turned, concern flashing across his face. “what? did you hurt yourself?”

“just a snake,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky but with relief now that you were away from it.

felix blinked, his lips parting in surprise. “was it big?”

“massive,” you said, still holding onto him. “i’ve been bit before as a kid, so forgive me if i don’t want to relive that.”

“wait—you’ve actually been bitten by a snake?”

you nodded, your voice steady but a little distant as the memory resurfaced. “yeah. my family was on vacation in hawaii and i accidentally stepped on one when i was a kid. it bit my leg, and it was venomous. just a bit though.”

his brows shot up. “what happened?”

“our tour guide had anti-venom and they rushed me to the hospital,” you said, glancing at him. “i remember the panic more than the actual pain. everyone around me was freaking out, but i was just sitting there, i couldn’t even bring myself to cry.”

felix tilted his head, studying you with a mix of disbelief and concern. “you didn’t feel it?”

“i mean i just remember sweating a ton and feeling really sick,” you admitted. “probably because i was in such shock. but once i was in the er and the doctors were talking about how lucky we were to get there so fast, it all started to sink in.”

his expression softened, a trace of a smile on his lips. “and here you are, like a champ.” felix laughed, a warm, comforting sound that echoed off the surrounding rocks. “but seriously, that sounds terrifying. glad you made it out okay.”

you shrugged lightly, letting go of his arm and giving him a small smile. “it’s not exactly a fond memory, but it’s a good story to tell. just… let’s avoid making it a sequel, alright?”

felix chuckled softly, “as long as neither of us steps on one, i think we’re good.” his hand slid from your grip and he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

up ahead, tall shrubs swayed lightly in the breeze, and through the gaps in their leaves, you caught the faint shimmer of water.

“is it… here?” you asked, tilting your head toward him.

felix’s lips curled into a soft smile. “you got it,”

he clasped your hand and guided you forward, pushing the plants gently aside with his free hand. the greenery gave way to an opening, and as you stepped through, the sight in front of you took your breath away.

the cove was stunning. turquoise water lapped gently at the sandy shore, its surface glinting under the fading sunlight. smooth rocks framed the secluded spot, their edges catching the golden hues of the approaching sunset. above you, an arc of smooth rock curved, like the natural ceiling of a cave. the whole scene felt untouched, utterly serene as if no one else in the world knew it existed.

felix let go of your hand briefly to take a step ahead, turning to watch your reaction. “what do you think?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost shy.

you looked at him, your mouth slightly open as you tried to find the right words. “it’s… beautiful,” you finally said, your gaze shifting back to the water. “it’s like it’s out of a dream. how does something like this even exist?” you said, reaching out for his hand again, squeezing his fingers gently.

felix followed your gaze and grinned, giving your hand a gentle tug. “this way,”

he led you toward a quiet spot on the sand, where the gentle waves crept up slowly, leaving faint trails of foam before retreating. the ground was warm beneath you as you both settled down, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between you.

in front of you, an opening in the rock framed the horizon perfectly, like a natural window to the sunset. the fiery oranges and soft pinks melted into purples, casting shimmering reflections on the turquoise water.

felix lowered himself onto the sand, stretching his legs out in front of him and patting the spot between them. “come here,” he said softly.

you didn’t hesitate, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you stepped closer. his hand pulled yours, his touch steady as he guided you down in front of him.

“how did you even find this place?” you asked, your voice quiet as your eyes wandered over the cove. you shifted to get comfortable before finally resting your head on his lap.

felix leaned forward slightly, his arm curling around you to pull you closer. his free hand drifted to your hair, his fingers threading through it in slow, soothing strokes. “chris and i were out looking for good spots to surf,” he said quietly while reminiscing.

“surfing? here?” you turned your neck to glance up at him.

“yeah, i know. doesn’t seem like the best place, right? too calm.” he chuckled, the sound low and warm. “we never did end up surfing here. but i got curious when i saw this little path through the trees, and… well, i found this.”

you looked back at the cove, the secluded beauty of it almost overwhelming. “and you kept it to yourself?”

he shrugged, his hand never leaving your hair. “yeah, i never told chris at all. later that day i came again alone.” felix lowered his head closer to yours, his voice softer now. “i never brought anyone here before. i wanted it to be a spot i could go to whenever.”

as you nestled against him, you let out a soft breath. “okay,” you said. “so, why bring me here?”

he knew why. he’d known for weeks, maybe longer. because i love you, he thought. the words hovered on the tip of his tongue, so close he could almost hear himself saying them.

the cove, the sunset, the two of you sitting this close—it would’ve been perfect to tell you now.

but his chest tightened, and the words wouldn’t come.

“am i that special?” you asked suddenly, saving him from his spiraling thoughts.

a soft laugh escaped him, and he tilted his head, looking at you with pure affection. his hand slipped down to your cheek, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “you have no idea,” he whispered.

your smile softened at his words and suddenly, the teasing felix you knew was gone. he looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen before, something that made your heart flutter. was it love?

“you’re so pretty,” he said, his voice low, like the words slipped out without him even meaning to.

the air seemed to shift between you. he had never said anything like that before—not in that way, not with that much weight behind it. for a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think of what to say.

you sat up slowly, turning toward him, and leaned in just a little. you glanced at his lips, then back to his eyes, searching for something you couldn’t quite name. and then you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a long, still kiss.

it was so soft. his lips were warm and gentle against yours, and for a moment, the world felt like it had stopped spinning entirely. when you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, and his gaze hadn’t wavered from you.

“can we…” you began, the flush of color still tinting your cheeks. “can we do what we did yesterday?”

felix blinked, pretending as though he didn’t understand. “what do you mean?” he asked, his tone almost innocent, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“you know,” you said, swatting his arm lightly, your grin growing.

he chuckled, low and warm, and before you could say more, he leaned in and kissed you again.

his lips moved against yours as if he were savoring the kiss, letting himself sink into it. his grip on your hand tightened, grounding both of you and his other hand slid up to the side of your neck, his fingers grazing your skin as he tilted his head slightly.

you couldn’t resist any longer. with a soft, breathless sigh, you parted your lips, meeting his tongue with your own, guiding the kiss deeper. the heat between you both intensified and as your tongues danced together, you slowly moved the hand he was holding, shifting it from your grasp to your waist.

felix hesitated for a moment, but then he let go of your hand and placed it firmly on your body. you wrapped both of your hands around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing your body against his as you kissed him deeper.

but after a few moments, you pulled away slightly, breathless, a smile tugging at your lips. “so much for being responsible,” you teased, your voice light as you brushed your hand down his chest.

felix immediately frowned, his eyes darkening, “stop talking.” without hesitation, he chased after your lips, catching them in another desperate kiss. you smiled into it, the heat between you both intensifying. his lips moved urgently against yours, and as you tried to pull away again, he followed you, not giving you a chance to break this. his hands were now on your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear the distance between you.

your hands instinctively moved up to his hair, grabbing a fistful of it. his tongue slid into your mouth, exploring, and tasting, and you responded equally. this cove was magical. it made you feel like it was just the two of you in this world.

finally, after a long moment, you both pulled away, lips swollen and red. you caught your breath, smiling softly. “we’re gonna miss the sunset,” you said, your voice teasing. “that’s what we’re here for, right?”

felix pouted, his hands still on you, it was clear he wasn’t thinking about the sunset. “sure, sure,” he replied distractedly, his eyes still on your lips. “can we stay like this?” he asked, his voice almost shy, his arms wrapping around you tighter.

you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, your heart racing as you nuzzled into him, settling between his legs. his warmth surrounded you, and for a moment, everything felt right. but felix, despite this, seemed far away in his own thoughts. you could feel him shift slightly beneath you, his breath a little more uneven, as if something was weighing on him.

inside, felix’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. his heart raced in a mix of emotions, but the one who showed its face the most was a deep, nagging guilt. he couldn’t ignore the feeling that he hadn’t said those three words.

he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be moving this fast, feeling this much, especially without telling you how deeply he felt. part of him wanted to just let go, and embrace the closeness and intimacy without worrying about the timing.

another part of him felt guilty, like he was rushing things before he was ready to say what truly mattered.

then, your voice broke through. it was so soft, so gentle, the kind of voice that made him feel like everything in the world could pause for a moment—like he could breathe for the first time in forever. “are you okay, lixie?”

his throat tightened as he met your gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. he wasn’t sure how to respond to the sudden rush of emotions, but your simple care for him, your concern, made him feel like he didn’t deserve it. he wasn’t sure if he could ever truly put into words what he was feeling, but you were making him want to try.

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” felix finally said, his voice unsteady. then, in an almost whispered tone, he said, “quick, look at the sun, it’s setting.”

you turned your head, following his gaze. the sky stretched out in front of you, the colors shifting as the sun dipped lower, casting a breathtaking, fiery orange glow across the horizon. the waves shimmered beneath the light, reflecting the warm hues, as if the whole world had paused to take in the beauty of this moment.

you sat there for a moment, completely in awe of the breathtaking sunset before you. it was impossible not to be captivated by it, and in that instant, you reached for your camera, wanting to capture its beauty. you snapped a picture, the vibrant colors of the sunset perfectly framed in the shot.

the picture was beautiful—perfectly still, a moment in time frozen forever. as your gaze shifted to him, you caught his soft smile, his eyes reflecting the glow of the fading sun. it made your heart skip, and for a second, everything else seemed so distant.

felix took your hand, his fingers brushing against yours gently, and kissed your hand softly, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver up your arm. you brought your camera up again, capturing the moment and when you looked at the photo, you couldn’t help but smile. your boyfriend was so incredibly handsome. the orange light cast across felix’s face, making his features even more striking, his eyes looking up at your camera as his lips lingered on your hand. his gaze was both loving and full of warmth.

you leaned back against felix’s abdomen, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. his arm moved, wrapping gently around you as he grabbed your hand, his thumb beginning to trace soft, slow circles on the back of it. the gesture was calming, soothing even, as the warmth of his touch seeped into your skin. the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore blending with the serene hues of the sunset.

as your gaze remained fixed on the horizon, your thoughts drifted. being back in sydney, you hadn’t expected a trip like this to bring you and felix so close in such a short time. three days now. that was all it had taken for him to feel like home—like someone you could lean on, quite literally.

you smiled softly to yourself, thinking about how much he had changed in your eyes. not that felix hadn’t always been attractive—he was, undeniably—but there was something different now. the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, even the way he touched you—it all felt deepened in ways you couldn’t explain.

your old self, the one who had just started dating him, would never have guessed this moment would come so soon. if she could see you now, sitting between his legs, leaning back against him with his hand in yours, watching the sunset in the most breathtaking place, she would have been surprised. you weren’t sure what would shock her more—that you’d let yourself be this vulnerable with him, or that you’d never felt more at home than you did right now.

a question pressed itself into your mind. do you love him?

it was such a big word—love. it carried weight and meaning you weren’t sure you fully understood yet. you were young, after all. could you really know what it meant? but as you sat there, feeling felix’s steady warmth against your back, his fingers brushing slow circles over your hand, you couldn’t help but think that this was what love must feel like.

felix’s thumb paused for a moment on the back of your hand, and then he shifted, wrapping his arm more firmly around you. it was such a small thing, but it made your breath hitch. if this wasn’t love, it was close enough to leave you wondering if it could ever be anything else.

the sun slowly dipped lower and lower until the last sliver of light disappeared beneath the horizon. the sky deepened into a rich navy, streaked with the faintest traces of orange and pink clinging to the edges.

felix let out a soft breath and shifted behind you, his voice breaking the stillness. “well, that’s that,” he said quietly.

you tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. “can we come back someday?” you asked with a hopeful voice.

for a moment, felix just looked at you, his gaze lingering on your face. something in his expression softened, his lips curving into that smile that always made your heart flutter. he leaned down and kissed you, the warmth of his lips against yours, answering the question. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “of course.”

day 3 - 21:45

the moment you stepped into the interior of the yacht, it felt like a whole new world. the bass from the heavy music reverberated through the walls, the beat syncing with the pulse of strobing neon lights that bathed the space. the air was filled with laughter, shouts over the music, and the clink of glasses.

felix’s hand stayed firmly on your lower back as you both weaved through the crowd. the room was packed, bodies moving to the beat in a rhythmic blur. you caught flashes of shiny dresses and sharp suits as the lights danced across the room, amplifying the wildness of it all.

“felix!”

the booming voice cut through the music just as the host appeared, his figure swaying slightly.

he was Korean, his dark hair tousled as though he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times that night. the stark contrast between his hair and felix’s blonde locks was striking. teenage boys rarely dyed their black hair, but felix’s golden strands were such a fixture of his personality by now that they felt like a part of him—he was practically a natural blonde.

the host flashed a wide smile that revealed perfect teeth and lit up his handsome face. his shirt, unbuttoned far enough to reveal a gold chain. a glass of amber liquid sloshed precariously in his hand, droplets threatening to escape with every exaggerated gesture he made.

“you made it!” the host said, pulling felix into a lopsided hug. his cologne was strong, an earthy mix of spice and wood that lingered in the close quarters.

felix grinned, stepping forward to meet him. “jake!” he called back, raising his voice to be heard over the relentless bass thumping through the yacht. “happy birthday!”

jake beamed, his drink sloshing dangerously close to spilling as he clapped Felix on the back with more enthusiasm than coordination. “thank you!” he exclaimed, pulling back. “welcome aboard!”

“this is my girlfriend,” felix gestured toward you, his smile growing wider. “she’s visiting the beach from sydney.”

jake’s glassy eyes lit up with excitement as he turned his attention fully to you. “girlfriend? well, aren’t you just full of surprises, felix,” he teased before leaning toward you with his arms wide open. “nice to meet you! i'm jake. jake sim. sim jake. whatever works.”

caught off guard, you laughed but leaned in anyway. jake enveloped you in a hug, swaying just enough to make you wonder if his balance was going to hold out. “nice to meet you too,” you managed, pulling back with a polite smile.

jake gave you a once-over, waving his drink in felix’s direction with a playful smirk. “she’s stunning, felix,” he declared, then turned to you with a wink. “good on you for putting up with him.”

you grinned, deciding to play along. “oh, you have no idea,” you replied, shooting felix a look. “he’s a full-time job, honestly. i deserve an award.”

felix gasped, his hand flying to his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “wow,” he said, shaking his head. “i see how it is.”

jake threw his head back in laughter, nearly spilling his drink again. “i like her!” he declared, pointing at you with his free hand. “she’s got spirit. you’d better hold on to this one, felix.”

felix squinted at you, trying to look stern, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “oh, i’m well aware,” he said.

jake clapped felix on the shoulder again, already turning toward the crowd. “alright, lovebirds,” jake said, already turning toward the crowd. “come grab a drink with me and the others.”

felix slid his hand down to yours, guiding you as the three of you wove through the pulsing crowd toward the bar area. the energy of the room only intensified, the music pounding in sync with the flashing lights.

as felix guided you both through the crowd, a sudden bump jolted you out of your focus. you turned to see a girl with sleek, jet-black hair and a dazzling blue dress staring back at you, her expression apologetic.

“oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she said, her voice soft but clear as she lightly touched your arm.

you smiled, shaking your head. “no, you’re fine, really.”

then her eyes widened slightly as she glanced past you. “lee felix?” she asked, her voice brightening with surprise.

felix’s head tilted, and his lips parted in realization. “jenny?” he asked, his voice rising.

jenny broke into a broad grin and threw her arms around him in a hug that suggested they were old friends. when she pulled back, her gaze shifted to you, and her smile turned curious. “is this your girlfriend?”

felix gave a proud nod, smiling. “yeah, she is.”

jenny’s expression softened into something warm and welcoming. “oh my goodness, it’s so nice to meet you!” she exclaimed, extending her hand. “i’m jenny—jake’s twin.”

your eyebrows shot up. “oh! happy birthday!” you said, shaking her hand.

jenny laughed, clearly delighted. “thanks for coming! it’s not every day felix shows up to one of these.”

felix rolled his eyes. “don’t act like i'm some hermit that doesn't leave his cave.”

jenny gave him a teasing grin. “well, you don’t, at least not without chris.” you swear you saw felix’s mouth twitch at that comment. she turned back to you, leaning in slightly. “you look amazing, by the way.”

your cheeks warmed under her compliment. “thank you. you look incredible too.”

“why don’t you come join me and the girls for a bit?” she turned to felix with a grin. “i hope you don’t mind if i steal her for a while.”

felix raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “i don’t know, jenny…”

jenny rolled her eyes, swatting his arm lightly. “ugh, shut up. you’ll be fine without her for a moment.”

you glanced at felix, giving him a gentle squeeze on his arm. “i’ll be back,” you said.

he sighed dramatically, though the smile on his face was impossible to miss. "fine. but I’ll be timing you.” he joked.

jenny reached for your hand, tugging you gently. “come on!” she urged, her excitement contagious.

without a second glance at felix, you let her lead you through the thrumming crowd. “this place is amazing,” you said as you followed jenny through the packed yacht, the thrum of the music vibrating through the walls.

jenny glanced back at you with a bright smile. “thank you! my parents bought it, like, fifteen years ago. i basically grew up around it. every birthday since i turned sixteen has been on this boat.” she laughed, stepping lightly to avoid a tipsy couple dancing too enthusiastically. “it’s kind of like home.”

“that’s incredible,” you said, genuinely impressed.

jenny led you into a quieter room off to the side. the lights were dimmer here, but the ambiance was still lively. a sleek bar ran along one wall, staffed by a bartender expertly shaking up cocktails, while plush couches lined the room. a group of girls was sprawled on one of the larger couches, their laughter spilling over as they chatted loudly, drinks in hand.

one of them noticed jenny first and called out with an exaggerated wave. “jenny! finally! where have you been?”

jenny grinned, tugging you closer. “i’m here now! everyone, this is felix’s girlfriend,” she announced with a casual flourish, glancing at you.

the girls turned their attention to you, their eyes alight with curiosity. “oh my god, you’re gorgeous,” one of them slurred, leaning forward with a dazed but kind expression.

“stop, you’re going to scare her.” jenny teased, rolling her eyes and turned to you. “they've started drinking too much already. come, sit.”

jenny motioned to the couch beside her, and you took a seat next to her while she grabbed her old drink off of the table. one of the girls, a brunette with a wide smile, leaned forward. “what’s your name?” she asked, her voice warm and curious. you introduced yourself, saying your name and her smile widened. “that’s so pretty,” she said, leaning back in her seat.

another girl, her lipstick slightly smudged and her drink held precariously in one hand, leaned forward, squinting at you through the dim light. “i’ve never seen you before,” she said, her words slightly slurred but still curious. “are you visiting for the summer?”

you smiled, adjusting the hem of your sundress. “yeah, i’m here with my boyfriend. i’m staying at his beach house for a bit.”

a couple of the girls perked up, their interest piqued. “who’s your boyfriend?” another one asked, her voice sharp with intrigue.

before you could answer, jenny leaned back with a smirk, swirling her drink dramatically. “lee felix,” she said, her tone casual but clearly enjoying the reaction she was about to provoke.

the room went still for a moment as the name sank in. then, almost in unison, the girls reacted.

“no way,” one of them exclaimed, her jaw practically dropping. another sat forward, her drink forgotten. “felix? you’re joking.” you blinked, caught off guard by their sudden intensity.

one of the girls sighed dramatically, leaning back on the couch as she gestured toward you. “ugh, you’re so lucky,” she said, her tone teetering between admiration and envy. “felix is like, the unattainable guy everyone secretly—or not so secretly—has a crush on.”

the girl who had choked earlier nodded fervently. “but honestly, looking at you, i’m not even surprised. you’re stunning. you probably swept him right off his feet.”

you felt your cheeks heat up at her words. “thank you,” you said softly, smiling at them. “that’s really sweet of you.”

one of the other girls leaned in, curiosity lighting up her face. “he’s from sydney, right? are you from sydney too?”

you nodded. “yeah, we go to school together,” you explained.

“that’s so cute! i’m not even surprised he has a girlfriend now. it was about time he stopped walking around looking gorgeous and actually did something about it.”

another girl chimed in, sipping her drink before adding, “i swear, he gets hotter every year. especially that one summer when he came back blonde.”

jenny leaned back with a knowing smirk, pointing her glass toward the girl. “that’s because you’re crazy about blondes, emma.”

emma whipped her head around, glaring at jenny. “shut up.”

jenny raised her eyebrows. “then why’d you hook up with griff sanders and his brother?”

emma’s eyes widened in outrage, clutching her glass as if to throw it. “jenny!”

jenny let out a high-pitched squeal, ducking behind one of the other girls for cover. “i’m just saying!” she shouted, laughing uncontrollably.

emma burst out laughing too, shaking her head as she put her glass back down. “you’re the worst,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

you couldn’t help but chuckle along with them, though the mention of griff made you feel a bit uneasy after last night. you tried to push the thought away, not wanting to let it show, but it lingered in the back of your mind.

just as the conversation shifted, another girl, who had been quiet up until now, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “i don’t know guys,” she said, twirling her drink in her hand. “i’ve always been a chris girl.”

the group gasped in unison, then erupted into teasing laughter. “you creep,” jenny said, nudging her playfully. “he’s in college!”

the girl shrugged nonchalantly, her smile never faltering. “and?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “doesn’t mean i can’t appreciate the view.”

jenny snorted, and the others continued to laugh, but then one of the girls leaned toward you, eyes lighting up with curiosity. “you’re probably really close with him, right? i mean, you’re with felix, so you must know him.”

you paused, feeling a little out of place. “actually,” you began, shaking your head with a small smile, “i’ve never met him. but felix goes on about him all the time.” you chuckled lightly.

the girl suddenly leaned forward, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “he’s just so big it feels like he could just—”

before she could finish, one of the other girls slapped her arm, cutting her off. “stop talking!” she laughed, her voice full of exasperation.

the whole group burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. the ridiculousness of it all, combined with the fact that you barely knew most of these people.

just then, a man appeared beside you, catching your attention. he was holding a small tray with a cocktail glass on it. you turned to face him, and he smiled politely. “a cocktail, my dear?” he asked smoothly.

you shook your head, smiling. “no, thank you.”

before you could even say more, jenny was reaching for the drink, practically snatching it. “thank you, mr. arthur!” she said cheerfully, her tone more playful than sincere.

the man nodded with a smile and walked off, leaving jenny to pass the cocktail to you. you hesitated for a moment, holding up your hand to politely refuse. “i really don’t drink, jenny,” you said, giving her a gentle smile.

jenny raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “oh, come on, just one drink. it’s not like you’re going to get hammered, we’re just having fun,” she teased, her voice laced with persistence.

you shook your head, still trying to resist. “i’m good, seriously.”

but she wasn’t giving up. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a more convincing tone. “look, you’re not going to regret it. just for tonight, please?”

you glanced around at the laughing group of girls, all of them looking at you with wide, eager eyes, and felt a slight pressure to join in. “just for tonight,” you muttered, taking the drink from her hand.

day 3 - 22:30

an hour ago, you'd promised yourself it would just be one drink. just one. you weren’t going to get hammered, not here, not now, not ever.

but clearly, you hadn’t listened.

the room wasn’t spinning anymore; it was tilting, lurching like the yacht had been caught in a storm even though it was only floating along a miniscule coast of australia. your head throbbed in time with the bass-heavy music pounding through the speakers, and your throat burned faintly from whatever concoction you’d downed last. it had started innocently enough. jenny had shoved a fruity, neon-colored drink into your hands, her smile too bright and her insistence too sharp to refuse. one sip had turned into three gulps, and before you could process it, the glass was empty, replaced with another as if by magic.

or rather, by mr. arthur—the server who seemed to materialize at the best possible moments, tray balanced with another round of deceptively sweet cocktails. and each time, despite your better judgment, you’d reach for another.

the room spun, like a carousel at twice its speed, and the flashing lights only added to the haze enveloping you. everything felt a little too loud—the music pounding like a second heartbeat, the girls’ voices blending together in a swirl of laughter and words you couldn’t quite piece together.

you’d lost track of felix somewhere in the haze. the last memory you had of him was faint—him grinning, his hand brushing yours before disappearing into the crowd with jake. that could’ve been ten minutes ago or an hour. time had dissolved into a mess of strobe lights, slurred voices, and the sharp tang of too many drinks.

“why are you just staring at nothing?” jenny slurred, her elbow jabbing into your side. you clutched your drink tighter, spilling a few drops onto your fingers as you turned to her. her mascara was smudged, her hair sticking out at odd angles, but she didn’t seem to care—or notice. “are you okay? or, like… dead?”

you giggled, though it sounded more like a hiccup, shaking your head a little too forcefully. the motion made the room tilt again, and you pressed a hand to your forehead. “not dead,” you mumbled, words dragging like wet paint. “just… thinking about felix. where is he?”

jenny squinted at you, then at the room around her, her gaze as unfocused as your own. “he probably, like… fell off the boat or something,” she said with a snort, her laugh dissolving. she waved her hand vaguely toward the crowd. “or he’s with jake. they definitely fell off together.”

you groaned, slumping deeper into the couch, which felt like it was swallowing you whole. “i should find him,” you said, though the words came out more like a mumble. “i should… i don’t know… make sure he’s okay.”

jenny laughed, leaning so far back she nearly slid off the arm of the couch. “you can’t even stand, babe. what are you gonna do, crawl around yelling his name?”

her teasing earned a weak glare from you, but the grin tugging at your lips ruined the effect. “i’m fine,” you argued, though you didn’t believe it. your legs felt like jelly, your head like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

jenny opened her mouth to retort, but her attention suddenly flickered over your shoulder, her expression shifting. she nudged one of the other girls, and soon all of them were staring behind you, their giggles quieting as they stared at something—or someone—behind you.

“what?” you asked, your voice thick and slow. you turned to look, blinking through the dizziness, you finally spotted them: felix and jake, stumbling toward the couch like a pair of toddlers who’d had too much sugar.

felix’s cheeks were flushed a deep shade of crimson, his shirt almost halfway unbuttoned, exposing his collarbone. his blond hair stuck up in wild tufts and jake was equally disheveled, his arm slung around felix’s neck as he laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. whatever joke he was telling clearly wasn’t meant for anyone else—it was lost in the garbled mess of words and wheezing breaths.

“felix?” you murmured, your voice breaking as you pushed yourself upright—or at least tried to. the room pitched sideways, and your body refused to cooperate, leaving you half-sprawled against the cushions. felix’s gaze met yours, his lopsided grin widening as he stumbled closer, jake still clinging to him for balance.

before you could get an answer, the boys collapsed onto the couch like puppets with cut strings, their combined weight squishing you deep into the cushions. felix practically melted onto you, his entire body slack as his head lolled against your shoulder. jake sprawled sideways, his legs slumping on jenny’s as he flopped into her lap like an oversized golden retriever.

jenny shrieked, her voice cutting through the music like a foghorn. “ew! get off me!” she shoved at her brother with all the force her petite figure could muster, her hands smacking into his chest. “you’re disgusting!”

jake only laughed in response, his head tipping back as he made himself even heavier, fully collapsing into her lap. “oh, come on, jen,” he slurred, his grin stretching wide. “i’m your favorite brother, you love me!”

“like hell i do!” jenny screeched, red-faced and furious. she shoved again, this time with both hands. with a yelp that sounded more like a laugh, jake toppled off the couch entirely, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

meanwhile, felix was burrowed deeper into you, his giggles vibrating against your shoulder. his breath, warm and tinged with whiskey, tickled your neck as he whispered, “hi,” his voice soft and slurred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

you turned your head slightly, trying to suppress the grin spreading across your face. “hi, felix,” you replied, your voice teetering on the edge of laughter.

and then, without warning, felix’s expression shifted like he’d just witnessed a ghost. his lopsided grin disappeared, replaced by a look of wide-eyed, exaggerated shock. he jerked back slightly, squinting at you as if you’d suddenly grown a second head. “do my eyes deceive me?” he asked, his tone dripping with dramatic flair.

you frowned, confused. “huh?”

“you’re drunk!” he declared, pointing at you with the wobbliness of someone who had clearly lost a fight with gravity. he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours. “i can’t believe it!”

you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows as if the very suggestion was an insult. “i’m not that drunk,” you insisted, your voice defensive and a little too loud, though the way you swayed slightly in your seat betrayed you. you raised your thumb and forefinger, holding them close together with exaggerated precision. “maybe a little.”

felix gasped as you’d just admitted to committing a heinous crime. his hands found your face, cupping your cheeks with gentleness despite his shaky coordination. his thumbs brushed over your skin as he stared at you with narrowed eyes, his nose nearly touching yours. “what… have they done to you?” he whispered.

you squinted at him, the corners of your mouth twitching despite your best efforts to stay indignant. “says you,” you shot back. you poked his chest, or at least aimed for it, your finger landing somewhere near his jaw. “you’re the one who’s, like… like…” you waved your hand vaguely, searching for the right word. “practically swimming in drunk.”

felix’s jaw dropped in offense, and he clutched his chest like you’d struck him. “me?” he slurred, his voice pitching up like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “how dare you? i am as sober as a… as a… um…” he paused, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

you rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh. “a nun?” you offered, smirking.

“yes!” he exclaimed, pointing a shaky finger in triumph. “i am as sober as a nun on… on a sunday!” he blinked, his grin faltering for a moment. “wait. do nuns drink on sundays? like… wine and stuff? he persisted. “i don't think nuns even drink real wine. what if it’s… holy fuck, what was the question again?” felix raised his hand to pinch his nose bridge, in deep thought. “like, they pretend it’s wine, but it’s actually like…like”

you sighed loudly, dragging your hands down your face. “felix, shut up.”

just then, as if saved by the bell, mr. arthur appeared, looking as polished and composed as ever, his crisp white shirt spotless despite wading through a sea of people. in sharp contrast to the fluorescent cocktails he’d been serving earlier, this time his tray was lined with plastic bottles of water, gleaming under the strobe lights like they were filled with liquid salvation.

“water?” he asked, his voice calm and knowing, as if he’d seen this exact scenario play out a thousand times before.

you reached for a bottle, the cool plastic smooth against your fingers. “thanks, mr. arthur. you’re such a gem,” you said, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

mr. arthur gave you a polite, professional smile—the kind of smile that servers master when they’ve decided you’re absolutely wasted—then turned on his heel and disappeared back into the crowd.

as soon as he was gone, felix was staring at you, slack-jawed, like you’d just declared your intent to marry the guy. “what the hell was that?” he demanded, voice thick with incredulity.

you blinked at him innocently. “what was what?”

“that!” he waved a hand in the general direction of where mr. arthur had been standing moments ago. “the whole flirty wink thing. seriously? who does that?”

rolling your eyes, you cracked open the water bottle. “he’s just looking out for me. what’s wrong with being polite?”

felix leaned closer, pointing at the bottle like it was exhibit a. “polite? that wasn’t polite. that was—you know what? i can’t even find the right word for it. extra. yeah, that’s what it was. extra.” he pointed accusingly at the water bottle like it held undeniable proof of your crimes. “what next? gonna slip him your number in morse code using bottle caps?”

before he could launch into another drunken rant, you had enough. without a word, you tilted the bottle and shoved it toward his face, pressing it against his lips until he had no choice but to take a gulp. water spilled over his chin as he glared at you.

when you pulled the bottle back, he coughed lightly, the back of his hand dragging across his chin as he stared at you. but something about his eyes made your stomach turn.

“that’ll shut you up,” you said, trying to sound smug, but your voice came out a little too quick, a little too breathless.

felix didn’t move. he just kept staring at you, the smirk on his face lazy and infuriatingly attractive, like he knew exactly what he was doing. he tilted his head slightly, eyes trailing over you in a way that made heat crawl up your neck.

“careful,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “you keep bossing me around like that, and i might actually start listening to you.”

you pointed at him, narrowing your eyes to hide the way your pulse had kicked into overdrive. “don’t start.”

“what?” he grinned wider, all dimples and trouble. “i’m just saying, you’re kinda scary when you’re mad. but, like, in a cute way.”

“just drink the water and stop being weird.” you snapped, more flustered than you wanted to admit.

felix leaned back, finally breaking eye contact as he unscrewed the cap from his bottle, but not before giving you one last smirk. “fine. but for the record, i’m not worried. you’re not into guys with mustaches. but i still don’t get the wink.”

“oh my god,” you groaned. “it wasn’t a wink, it was gratitude,” you grumbled.

“sure, sure. gratitude with a side of ‘call me.’”

“felix.”

“okay, okay! hydrating now. see? i’m such a good boy.” he took a slow sip of water, deliberately dragging it out, and right before tilting the bottle back for another gulp, he winked at you—cheeky and entirely infuriating.

“please never say ‘good boy’ again,” you deadpanned.

the smirk lingered on felix’s lips as he tilted his head back, downing more water like he was trying to prove a point. but then he paused, lowering the bottle slowly. his eyes darted around the room, a flicker of focus cutting through his usual chaotic energy. the others were too distracted—jenny was still half-heartedly shoving jake off her lap while the other girls were either whispering in small groups or half-asleep, heads drooping like wilting flowers.

felix’s gaze returned to you, softer now, more intent. the teasing grin faded, replaced by something quieter, something that sent a ripple of heat through your already alcohol-fueled haze. he shifted closer, his knee brushing yours, and the movement was deliberate enough that you noticed.

your heart thudded against your ribs as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on yours, and for a moment, the pounding music and chatter around you seemed to fade into nothing. his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for what felt like an eternity.

“felix…” you murmured, unsure if it was meant to be a question, a warning, or something else entirely.

he didn’t answer. instead, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours with a gentleness that caught you off guard. the kiss deepened slowly, unhurried but purposeful, his mouth warm and tasting faintly of whiskey and something sweet. the world spun, but this time, it wasn’t the alcohol—it was him.

your breath hitched as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. his kiss was intoxicating, the kind of slow, deliberate connection that pulled you under, drowning you in the heat of it. every move was deliberate yet tender like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth, the way you tasted.

the way his lips lingered just a moment longer than necessary before pulling back sent a thrill coursing through you, leaving your heart pounding harder than the bass reverberating through the yacht. when he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“let’s get out of here,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with something teasingly intimate, sending a ripple of heat down your spine.

you shot him a playful look, fighting the urge to grin as you turned toward the room. “guys, i’m feeling a bit seasick, i’m gonna get some air,” you called out, your voice carrying over the chatter and the music. a few heads turned, some murmured half-concerned responses, but most were too engrossed in their own revelry to notice.

felix didn’t miss a beat. “i’ll come with you,” he said casually, pushing himself up from the couch. he straightened his jacket, brushing off dust with a flick of his hands. the corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk, and for a split second, his gaze flicked to the others in the room, almost daring anyone to object. no one did.

without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers sliding effortlessly between yours. his touch was firm but unhurried as if he had all the time in the world to pull you along. you let him guide you toward the exit, your heart racing in time with the pounding music.

the music grew louder as you climbed the stairs, a deep bassline thrumming in your chest like a second heartbeat. the soft glow of neon lights filtered through the narrow stairwell, going dimmer until you reached the deck. outside, the air was crisp and carried the faint saltiness of the sea.

the deck was just like downstairs—bodies dancing in rhythm, laughter ringing out above the pulsing music, and bursts of celebration as corks popped from champagne bottles. felix’s hand brushed against yours, and when you glanced at him, he raised an eyebrow. away from the clamor, tucked into a shadowed corner where the neon lights softened to a subtle glow, felix found a small, secluded alcove near the railing. it felt like a world apart, a quiet pocket of peace with nothing but the open ocean stretching beyond.

you drifted toward the railing, your steps slow and deliberate as if drawn by the water’s quiet pull. leaning forward, you rested your arms on the smooth metal and gazed down at the foam churning against the yacht’s hull. the faint, rhythmic lapping of the waves was a soothing counterpoint to the muffled music behind you.

the weight of felix’s gaze was unmistakable, and you felt it like a physical thing pressing against your back. when you glanced over your shoulder, his eyes were locked on you, dark and unreadable, but with a heat that made your breath catch. the way he looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, sent a shiver skimming down your spine.

without thinking, you turned fully to face him. the faint curve of his smirk faltered, replaced by something softer as you took a step closer. his name lingered on the tip of your tongue, unspoken, as your hand reached for his, threading your fingers through his in a single, decisive motion. then, with a steady but gentle pull, you guided him backward until his shoulders met the smooth wall of the yacht.

"not wasting any time, are you?" he murmured, his voice deep and teasing.

instead of answering, you stepped into him, your body aligning with his, and brought your hands up to rest lightly on his chest. his breath hitched as you tilted your head, your lips brushing his in a kiss that started soft before deepening. your mouth parted upon reaching his lips, before closing fully around them. the moment your mouth fully captured his, he groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you.

his hands found your waist, his grip firm yet deliberate, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you closer or let you take the lead. you didn’t give him the chance to decide. your fingers slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him down to you as your body pressed flush against his.

his lips parted under yours, the faint taste of whiskey and something sweet lingering on his tongue as the kiss grew deeper, messier. you couldn’t help the quiet, breathless sound that escaped you, and the way his grip on your waist tightened told you he’d noticed. one of his hands slid up your back, fingers brushing along your spine in a way that made you shiver. the other stayed on your hip, steadying you as your knees threatened to give out.

you broke apart just long enough to gasp for air, your lips brushing against his as you whispered his name, your voice low and shaky. his forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. “you’re killing me, you know that?” he murmured, his voice rough with something between a laugh and a groan.

your only response was to kiss him again, this time slower but no less heated. his hands roamed your sides, slipping under the hem of your top just enough for his fingers to graze the warm skin beneath. the feeling sent a jolt through you, and you pulled back slightly, your lips swollen and your breath ragged as you met his gaze.

his eyes were heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide, and the way he was looking at you made you feel like the only person in the world. “you’re so beautiful,” he said softly, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

the corner of your mouth lifted into a lazy smile as you reached up, your fingers feather-light as they traced the edge of his collarbone where it peeked out from the neckline of his shirt. felix’s eyes dropped immediately, watching the movement like he was mesmerized. his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet.

you tilted your head, studying him through half-lidded eyes. “what?” you teased, your voice low, a little slurred. “something wrong?”

his gaze snapped back to yours, and the way he looked at you was almost disbelieving. “you can’t—” he stopped, his voice catching slightly. he exhaled sharply, his hands tightening on your waist. “you can’t look at me like that.”

a laugh escaped you, soft and teasing, before you leaned down and pressed your lips to the curve of his collarbone. his reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, his head tipping back slightly as his hands twitched against your sides. encouraged, you kissed the spot again, this time letting your lips linger a fraction longer.

“is that okay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost shy.

his response came fast. “yes. god, yes.”

you smiled against his skin, your drunken mind letting go of any hesitation. you kissed the same spot again, slow and deliberate, before moving down the line of his collarbone, your lips parting slightly to trail open-mouthed kisses along his skin. his chest rose and fell under your touch, each kiss drawing a sharp inhale or a quiet sound from him that only spurred you on.

when you reached the base of his neck, his breath hitched audibly. without thinking, you pressed your lips there, rougher this time, and his hand gripped your hip like it was the only thing keeping him steady. you nipped at the skin lightly, testing, before sucking harder, your teeth pinching it just enough to make him jolt.

“shit,” he hissed, his voice strained but desperate. “don’t stop.”

you paused just long enough to laugh, the sound vibrating against his neck. “seemed like it hurt though” you teased, kissing the spot softly as if in apology.

“yeah, but…” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “don’t stop, baby.”

“what?” you muttered, your lips brushing his skin as you pulled back slightly. you tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your fingers toying with his shirt.

a flicker of nervousness flashed through his eyes. “it just… spilled out, i don’t know, i’ve drunk a lot,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

you smiled, slow and warm, and your fingertips grazed his jaw. “i like it,” you murmured, your voice soft but certain. you leaned back in, pressing a kiss to the spot just above his collarbone, your lips lingering. “baby.”

felix let out a shaky exhale, his hands twitching on your hips. “god,” he murmured, his voice low and strained. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you hummed in response, your lips curling into a sly smile against his skin. you kissed him again, harder this time, your teeth grazing the spot. he melted into you, his head tipping back against the wall, exposing more of his neck to you like an offering.

his chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as you continued, planting kiss after kiss along his collarbone, pausing only to flick your tongue against the skin before pulling back to suck just hard enough to leave your mark. you didn’t hesitate, letting your drunken instincts guide you as you pressed your lips to his pulse point. it was warm and steady beneath your mouth, and the sound he made spurred you on. you sucked harder this time, your teeth grazing his skin just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

your lips were still pressed to felix’s neck when, suddenly, he stiffened under your touch. his hands, which had been steady and reverent on your waist, tightened abruptly. before you could react, he pulled back, his eyes dark and wild, his chest heaving like he was struggling to catch his breath.

“felix?” you whispered, your voice unsteady as you tried to read the storm in his expression.

he didn’t answer—not with words. instead, in one fluid motion, he grabbed your wrists, his grip firm but not painful, and spun you around. your back met the cool surface of the wall with a soft thud, and you let out a surprised gasp, your eyes wide as you stared up at him.

his body was so close, his heat pressing into you, his hands now planted on either side of your head as though to cage you in. he lowered his head, his face dipping into the crook of your neck, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat.

the sound of him inhaling deeply, his nose grazing your skin, sent a shiver skimming down your spine. “you smell so good,” he muttered, his voice rough and barely above a growl. the raw intensity of it made your stomach flip, your heart hammering in your chest.

“it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice soft, and soothing, though your own breathing was uneven. you brought your hands up, your fingers brushing over his arms lightly. “felix, it’s okay.”

he nodded against your neck, his movements almost frantic, and then his lips were on you—hot, open-mouthed kisses pressed to the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. his hands gripped your hips, rougher now, his fingers digging into your flesh like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

his lips trailed fire down your neck, each kiss igniting a blaze that spread through your body. his mouth was rough and hungry, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your knees weak. you clutched at his biceps now, your fingers curling into the taut muscle beneath his shirt as if that was the only thing tethering you to reality.

the roughness of his grip on your hips contrasted with the tenderness that usually radiated from him. felix was different now—less patient, less careful, his every touch desperate, insistent. it was like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough of you, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into the haze of him.

your back pressed harder against the wall as he leaned his weight into you, his body completely crowding yours. all you could feel was him—his warmth, his need, the way his lips desperately painted you, dragging you impossibly closer.

the sharp edge of his jaw brushed against your cheek as he kissed his way back up, lips meeting yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. his movements were messy and unrestrained, and you matched him with equal fervor, too lost in the moment to care about anything else.

the wind whipped around you, the faint scent of salt and sea lingering in the air, but even that was overpowered by the heady scent of felix. the muffled sound of waves lapping against the yacht seemed so far away now, as did the thought that anyone could stumble across you like this. you should care—you would care—but his hands slid up your sides, rough and commanding, and every coherent thought you had dissolved into nothing.

your world narrowed down to him. his touch, his lips, the way his voice came out rough and broken when he muttered your name like a prayer against your skin. you forgot where you were, forgot everything but the way he made you feel—like the storm he carried inside him had seeped into you, leaving you breathless and burning.

“god, i just—” his voice was muffled against your skin, broken and desperate. “i can’t— i don’t want to hold back anymore.” he bit lightly at your neck, making you gasp, and he froze, pulling back just slightly. “was that too much, baby? tell me if it’s too much.”

you shook your head quickly, your own body trembling with need. “no, it’s not. i like it. i want you, felix.”

that seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. with a low groan, he tilted his head, capturing your lips in a kiss so hungry, so full of need, it left you dizzy. his hands slid up your sides, pushing under your shirt to rest against the bare skin of your waist, the heat of his touch making you arch into him.

“you drive me crazy,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick and heavy. “you don’t even realize, do you? how much i like you?”

“i do,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. “i do.” you repeated.

his eyes darkened, and he leaned in again, his kisses rougher now, more insistent. his hands moved with the same urgency, one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck while the other trailed down to your thigh, gripping it firmly and hitching your leg up to his hip.

“you’re so…,” he muttered, his voice low and almost reverent as he looked down at you, his gaze raking over your form. “so perfect. like you were made to fit right here, with me.”

your cheeks burned at his words, but before you could respond, he pressed his body closer, pinning you against the wall with a desperation that sent your pulse racing. his lips were everywhere—your neck, your jaw, your collarbone—leaving a trail of heat in their wake. every kiss, every touch, was filled with an intensity that left you breathless.

“god, i can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, his voice raw. “i feel like i’m losing my mind.”

you smiled softly, reaching up to cup his face and grounding him with your touch. “then lose it,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tremble in your body. “i’m right here.”

felix’s breath was ragged as he pulled back slightly, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting an internal war. his hands were still on your hips, trembling slightly as though he were using every ounce of willpower to keep himself grounded.

“baby, i can’t,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and filled with regret. he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze, and the conflict there made your chest tighten. “not here. not tonight. you deserve better than a drunken night on my friend’s yacht.”

you blinked at him, your lips parted as his words sank in. “then we stop where you want to. wherever feels right for both of us,” you whispered, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palms.

felix’s chest rose and fell under your touch as your words hung in the air between you. slowly, his hands on your waist tightened slightly, grounding himself. “i’m fine with what we’re doing right now,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but laced with a quiet intensity. his lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile, and you felt your heart skip at the way he looked at you—open and unguarded.

“me too,” you whispered, your fingertips brushing lightly against his chest before trailing up to his collarbone. your gaze dropped, catching sight of the faint marks you’d left on his skin. the sight sent a jolt through you. “they look good on you, by the way,” you said, your voice soft as your fingers hovered over one of the marks, resisting the urge to touch it again. the blush that crept up his neck only made him more endearing, but there was no mistaking the way his pupils dilated at your words. his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching.

“yeah?” he rasped, his voice lower now, rough around the edges. his gaze flickered over your face before it dropped lower, catching on the curve of your neck.

you tilted your head, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you raised an eyebrow at him. “you’re gonna walk back out there like this?” you asked, gesturing vaguely to the blooming marks trailing along his neck.

felix’s brows furrowed for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “why shouldn’t i?” he replied, his voice steady but laced with something darker—something that made your pulse quicken.

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, though the sound was cut short when he shifted closer, the wall behind you pressing firmly against your back. “oh, i don’t know,” you mused, looking up at him through your lashes, “maybe because your parents trusted their angel son to be responsible with his girlfriend for the week.”

felix’s jaw tightened at your words, but there was a flicker of a smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. he leaned back slightly, giving you just enough space to meet his gaze fully. “so what if they see?” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “i mean, if anything, this just shows how you’re not the angel they thought you were.”

your eyes widened, and a mix of surprise and indignation flashed across your face. “are you framing me right now?” you asked, pouting as you jabbed a finger into his chest. “you’re the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, lee felix.”

he let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest as his hands settled on your waist again, his thumbs stroking over the fabric of your dress. “i’m just looking out for myself,” he teased.

you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him as a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “fine, then how about this,” you said, tilting your head as you slid your hands up to his shoulders. “why don’t you just return the favor? that way, we’ll split the blame fifty-fifty when your parents come back.”

felix’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous and teasing all at once. “now that’s fair,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he leaned in closer. before you could respond, he ducked his head, diving into the curve of your neck with no hesitation. his lips pressed hot against your skin, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp as he worked with full intent to leave hickeys.

god, you really wished you didn’t have to regret this tomorrow.

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