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maskedbyghost · 11 hours ago

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this is part 2 to toxic ex!Simon Riley x f!Reader, smut, mdni

You hadn’t planned to cry, and honestly, you weren’t even sure why your chest felt tight in the first place. It was just supposed to be a walk, nothing more, just some fresh air and sunshine and maybe a break from your own thoughts.

You thought moving your body might help. Maybe if you just walked far enough, breathed deep enough, looked up at the clouds instead of staring at your bedroom ceiling, something would click into place and you’d feel like yourself again. Like a person again.

But the universe clearly had other plans.

Because every corner you turned, there was another couple.

They weren’t even being obnoxious about it. It wasn’t the affection that made you roll your eyes or want to vomit. It was worse. It was the soft stuff, the connection you could feel without even hearing a word of it.

A guy was walking with his girlfriend, and his hand was resting right at the small of her back. Another couple sat under a tree with a checkered blanket spread out beneath them. She was half in his lap, trying to balance her drink, laughing at something he had said, and he was holding her as if she were made of glass and sunlight, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other brushing her hair with his hands, slowly.

An older couple walked by, holding hands, their fingers intertwined so casually that it made your throat ache. She was talking, he was nodding, and they stopped every few steps to point at the flowers planted along the sidewalk like they had all the time in the world.

And you just… froze.

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t even sadness, just this deep yearning that settled heavy in your chest and refused to budge, this desperate ache for something that didn’t hurt, something soft, something simple, something that didn’t feel like you were holding your breath all the time, afraid of saying the wrong thing or asking for too much.

You wanted to be held. Not grabbed, nor thrown onto a bed because someone couldn’t control themselves. You wanted to be chosen in the quiet moments, when there was no sex or tension or drama to sweeten the deal. You wanted someone to look at you and think, There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.

You sat down on the nearest bench, dropped your phone into your lap, and just stared at the grass. You didn’t want to cry in public, not really, but the sting was there, just behind your eyes, and you blinked fast, hoping it’d go away.

Your phone buzzed.

You didn’t even want to check. You already knew, somehow, like a sixth sense, or maybe just muscle memory.

“Come over. I’ll order Thai. You can stay.”

As if it was some kind of prize. Like the offer of food and his bed was supposed to feel anything other than a pity invitation. Like that sentence wasn’t the exact same breadcrumb he’d been throwing your way for months, just enough to keep you following, never enough to satisfy.

He wasn’t saying I miss you. He wasn’t saying I’m sorry I hurt you or I didn’t know what I had until you were gone. He was saying Come over. Like this was still a game he was winning.

And maybe a week ago, hell, maybe even yesterday, you would’ve paused. You would’ve stared at the message with that same dull throb in your chest and thought maybe this time will be different. Maybe he means it. Maybe he’s trying.

But right now?

Right now, you felt done.

Done with making excuses for him. Done with confusing attention for affection. Done with dragging your heart behind you like dead weight every time he pulled you back in with nothing more than a half-assed promise and a takeout order.

Your fingers hovered for a second, just long enough to acknowledge the part of you that still wanted to believe he’d ever be capable of giving you what you needed.

And then you typed:

“No. We’re done, Simon. For real this time. Don’t text me again.”

Your thumb hit send before your brain could stop you, before your heart could scream, before the echo of what if could take root and grow into something dangerous again.

And then, without waiting for the three dots to pop up, without giving yourself a chance to hesitate or soften or let him back in even a little you blocked the number.

And that was it.

Your hand was trembling, your eyes burned, but the tears didn’t fall. And your heartbeat was steady in your chest, like it was relieved.

You looked up at the sky. Watched the clouds move slowly across the blue. They didn’t know what it meant to panic over someone who didn’t care.

You weren’t happy, not yet. But for the first time in too long, you didn’t feel chained to him anymore.

And that, in itself, felt like something.

...

You hadn’t seen him in over two weeks.

No texts, no calls, no sudden knocks at your door. No glimpses of him near your job, no DMs from new burner accounts, nor mutual friends trying to convince you he was “going through it.”

And honestly? You were starting to think he’d finally gotten the message. That maybe he’d realized what it meant when you said we’re done. That he’d felt the silence for what it was: a full stop, not a pause.

But then he showed up. Of course he did.

You were walking home from the grocery store, just a quick trip for bread and milk and some random snacks you didn’t need but bought anyway because the act of filling your cupboards made you feel happier. You’d just turned the corner onto your street, earbuds in, music low, mind somewhere else entirely, when you looked up and froze.

He was leaning against your building. And he had the nerve to be casual about it too, his arms crossed, head down like this wasn’t completely insane. He looked up when you stopped walking, and his mouth did that slow curl into a grin that used to make your stomach flip but now just made your jaw tighten.

You pulled your earbuds out and said nothing.

“Hey,” he said, as if this was normal or completely not out of bounds. “You’ve been hard to reach.”

“Simon,” you started, your voice flat, your pulse already kicking up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “You blocked my number and my backup email. You weren’t really leaving me a lot of options.”

You blinked, stunned at how casually he said it. “So you decided to stalk me instead?”

“That’s a dramatic word,” he said, pushing off the wall and walking toward you like you weren’t already backing away slightly, trying to hold onto your grip. “I just wanted to talk. You made that impossible.”

“I made it impossible because we broke up,” you snapped, dropping your grocery bag onto the steps with more force than necessary. “I told you not to text me. Not to call. I said we were done—done, Simon—what don’t you get?”

He smiled again, that infuriating smirk, like you’d just said something cute instead of trying to set a boundary.

“Yeah,” he said, cocking his head. “We broke up, sure. But that doesn’t mean you get to erase me.”

You stared at him, jaw slack. “Are you actually hearing yourself?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Simon said, stepping closer now, his voice calmer, which, honestly, made you want to scream. “You think a couple texts and a blocklist are gonna make me forget what we were? You really think that’s enough?”

“I don’t want you to forget,” you snapped. “I want you to leave me alone. I want you to understand that this—whatever this was—is over. I’m not doing this anymore. I don’t belong to you.”

Something in his expression shifted then, just a flicker. A twitch of his jaw, a tightening of the eyes. You’d seen that look before, right before the walls went up. Right before the mask slipped into place.

“You keep saying we’re over,” Simon said slowly, “but you don’t get it.”

He stepped in so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the scent of his skin, that cologne he always wore too much of, the one that used to make you ache but now just made your stomach turn.

“You and me?” he whispered. “We’re never really over.”

Your breath hitched, and for a second—for one stupid, fleeting second—you felt that pull again. That old, broken, magnetic force that lived in the space between his mouth and yours, in the memory of what it felt like to be wanted by him.

But you were so fucking tired of confusing that with love. So you stepped back.

You looked him dead in the eye, and you said:

“What do you want from me, Simon? Seriously. Do you want me to scream? Do you want me to cry? Do you want me to fall apart in front of you just so you can feel something? Because whatever this is—it’s not love, it’s not real. It’s you, trying to control me. And I’m done letting you.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just stood there. And you picked up your bag again, turned on your heel, and walked away. You didn’t look back, didn’t have to.

Because this time? You were the one leaving him behind.

...

It had been weeks.

Weeks of silence, weeks of healing, and pretending you were ready to move on, even when your heart still felt like a battlefield he’d walked away from without ever looking back.

So when your coworker asked you out—the nice one, the one who remembered your coffee order and always held the elevator—you said yes.

You didn’t feel fireworks, nor did you get butterflies. But you also didn’t feel dread, or the bone-deep exhaustion that came from chasing someone who only ever looked back when you were halfway out the door.

And maybe that was enough. Maybe soft was what you needed now. Safe and simple.

He took you to a cozy little restaurant tucked off the main street, the kind with candlelight and mismatched chairs and a menu written entirely in cursive. He held the door open for you, pulled your chair out when you sat, complimented your dress without looking at your chest. And you smiled, even if it felt a little forced. You laughed, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

You tried...

Halfway through the meal, you excused yourself to the bathroom. The ladies’ room was down a narrow hallway in the back, quiet and dim, music muffled through the walls. You were halfway there when you felt it.

That shift in the air.

That awareness that only ever came from one person. And you didn’t even get the chance to turn around before he was there.

He stepped out from the shadows of the hallway like a fucking ghost, like he’d been waiting, like he knew you’d be here and timed it down to the minute. And before you could speak, before you could even breathe, he had you pressed up against the wall, one arm caging you in, the other sliding slowly along your waist.

His mouth was at your ear in an instant, voice low, thick, dirty.

“Really, sweetheart?” he murmured, breath warm against your skin. “This the best you can do?”

Your heart slammed in your chest. Your hands went to his chest, pushing lightly, but you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He leaned in closer, body not quite touching yours but so fucking close, you could feel the heat radiating off him like fire.

“You think he’s gonna fuck you better than I do?” he whispered, and it wasn’t even a question—it was filth wrapped in confidence. “You think he even knows what to do with you? Bet he doesn’t even know how you sound when you beg. Doesn’t know how your thighs shake when I’ve got my mouth on you—”

“Stop it,” you hissed, voice shaking, but your knees were already weak and your throat felt tight.

Simon smirked, eyes dark and gleaming. “Can’t stop thinking about it, can you? His hands won't feel right, will they? Bet you’d picture mine every time he touches you.”

Your hands pushed harder now, but he didn’t flinch.

“And what about when he’s inside you?” Simon rasped, mouth brushing your jaw, teeth grazing skin just enough to make you gasp. “You gonna close your eyes and pretend it’s me?”

“At least he’ll fucking stay,” you snapped, louder now, anger burning through the haze. “At least he won’t leave the second he gets what he wants. At least I won’t wake up to an empty bed.”

That got him. His jaw clenched instantly.

But he didn’t move. He just stared at you, breathing hard, hands twitching like he didn’t know whether to touch you or punch a hole in the wall beside your head.

You shoved him. Hard.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

Simon didn’t move right away. He just stood there, watching you like you’d gutted him, like your words had cut deeper than you’d meant them to—but you didn’t regret it.

Not this time.

You stepped around him, ignoring the way your legs trembled beneath you, head high, heart pounding like it was trying to tear its way out of your chest.

You didn’t look back.

You walked straight back to the table, sat down, and smiled at your date like your ex hadn’t just whispered filth into your ear in a hallway like a man possessed.

“Everything okay?” your date asked gently.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “The bathroom line was just long.”

...

The walk back to your apartment felt like an out-of-body experience.

Your date had walked you home, smiling the entire way, hands tucked into his pockets, making soft jokes that you tried to laugh at, even though your stomach had been turning since the second you stepped out of the restaurant. He was kind. He listened, he held the door open, and he even complimented your dress without leering. And when you reached your door, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and gentle, just like the kind of kiss you should want from someone like him.

And you felt nothing. Not even a flicker, not even a spark.

You kissed him back out of politeness, maybe even a little guilt, and when you stepped away and thanked him for dinner, he smiled like he’d had a good time. And you hated that you hadn’t. Hated that he was everything you said you wanted—safe, respectful, sweet—and all you could think about the whole fucking night was Simon’s mouth, Simon’s hands, Simon whispering filth and promises and pain in your ear like he was made to ruin you.

By the time you reached your door, your hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage.

From this endless, exhausting loop of trying to do the right thing and still craving the wrong one.

You fumbled with your keys, cursing under your breath, eyes burning. You wanted to scream. Wanted to punch a wall. Wanted to shove Simon’s face into the fact that he’d broken you so thoroughly that now, even when someone was good to you, it felt wrong.

The door opened. And there he was.

Simon.

Sitting on your couch but he didn’t look cocky this time. Didn’t smirk or lean back with that smug glint in his eye. He just sat there, elbows on his knees, head in his hands like he didn’t even know what to say anymore.

You dropped your purse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” your voice cracked, sharp and loud in the quiet room.

He stood, slowly, but you were already walking toward him, hands clenched, eyes blazing.

“How dare you?” you hissed. “How fucking dare you be here again. After everything.”

“Just listen—”

“No!” you snapped. “No, you don’t get to talk. You don’t get to sit there and act like you’re confused about why I don’t want you in my life. You ruined me, Simon.”

He flinched, and good. You wanted it to hurt.

“You took everything I gave you, every part of me, and you made it ugly.” Your voice shook now, rage mixing with grief. “You used me when you wanted company. Tossed me when you were bored. And I kept coming back, like a fucking idiot, thinking maybe this time you’d mean it when you kissed me.”

He was quiet.

“I went on a date tonight,” you spat. “With someone who treated me like I mattered. Someone who held doors and remembered things I said and kissed me like he gave a damn, and do you know what I thought the whole time?”

Simon swallowed, barely whispering, “What?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes now.

“I thought about you,” you said, voice cracking. “I thought about your fucking mouth, about your hands. I thought about how I’d rather have your soft kiss than his perfect one. And I hate myself for it.”

Simon took a step forward. “I never meant to—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice trembling now. “Don’t stand there and act like this just happened. You did this. You made me believe you’d never care, and now I’m so fucking broken I can’t even feel anything from someone who actually tries. I still picture you when I think about love, Simon. That’s the worst part.”

He was right in front of you now, his breathing shallow, his eyes wide as he just watched you split yourself open in front of him.

“I imagine you,” you whispered. “But better, softer, and kinder. I imagine you as the version I needed, the one I deserved, and it kills me, because I don’t even know if that version of you exists.”

Silence.

He reached out then, so slowly it made your breath catch, and placed one hand gently on your cheek, the lightest touch he’d ever given you.

“I can be him,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I swear to God, I’ll try. I’ll be him.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Because he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

And then another, on your temple. One on your cheek, your jaw, your nose.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered between them. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You were crying now, full-on sobbing, body shaking like it had been holding this in for far too long. And he didn’t grab you, didn’t pull you into him like he used to. He just stood there, kissing every tear that fell like he was trying to wipe them from existence.

“I didn’t know how to love you right,” he murmured, voice breaking. “But I will. If you let me. If you give me a chance, I’ll change. I’ll do the work. Just… don’t shut the door on me yet.”

You didn’t answer.

Because even after everything, even through all the rage and resentment and raw wounds, his kisses still felt like home.

And that was the scariest part of all.

He kissed your tears like they burned him, as if each one that slid down your cheeks was proof of what he’d broken, and he was trying, pathetically, hopelessly, to piece it all back together with nothing but his mouth and the weight of his regret.

You didn’t say anything when he pressed his forehead to yours. Didn’t pull away when he wrapped both arms around you like he thought you might disappear if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

You just stood there and let yourself breathe him in, his warmth, his scent.

“Let me show you,” Simon whispered, voice raw. “Please, just once. Let me make it right.”

You didn’t nod, you didn’t speak, but you let him take your hand.

He led you to the bed and didn’t tear your clothes off like he usually did. He didn’t grab or push or bite. He just kissed you, like you were something fragile, something he didn’t think he deserved to touch but was begging to try.

His hands trembled when he slid your top up over your arms. He took his time with every button, every hem, because rushing would ruin it. When your bra fell away, he kissed the center of your chest—not your breasts, not your neck—your chest, right over your heart, and rested there for a second like he was trying to feel it beat.

“You don’t have to forgive me now,” he whispered. “But I need you to know I’m gonna earn it. All of it. Whatever it takes.”

You didn’t stop the tears. You didn’t hide from them. They slid quietly down your cheeks as he lowered himself between your legs and pressed his mouth to your stomach, your hips, your thighs—anywhere but the place you were already aching for him.

“I’m gonna learn how to love you right,” he murmured against your skin. “I’m gonna give you every soft thing I never thought you’d want. You won’t have to beg for affection anymore. You won’t have to guess if I’ll stay.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, then the other, then finally pressed his mouth to where you needed him. It felt as if he was praying with his tongue. Like this was how he was going to worship you now.

You gasped, hands fisting the sheets, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

And he noticed. Of course he did.

He looked up from between your thighs, his face a mess of want and pain.

“You don’t have to cry,” he said softly, crawling back up your body. “I mean… I know why you are. But I hate that I’m the reason for it. I swear, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

You cupped his face, fingers trembling, and he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing holding him together.

He lined himself up, slow and careful, and when he pushed inside, he went still. Completely still. Just breathing against your mouth, his hands cradling your face like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this close again.

“You feel like home,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Fuck, you always did.”

He moved slowly, painfully slow. Like every thrust was an apology. Like he was rewriting the way he touched you, undoing every rushed, selfish fuck with something tender and earned.

Your tears didn’t stop. And neither did he.

He kissed your eyelids, your cheeks, and your jaw. Whispered everything he’d never said when it would’ve mattered most.

“I’m gonna do better.”

“I’ll take care of you. I swear I will.”

“No more games. No more pushing you away.”

You whimpered beneath him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, clinging to him like you didn’t know how to let go anymore.

He rested his forehead against yours and kept moving, slow and deep, every thrust sending something hot and unbearable through your chest.

“You deserve flowers,” he breathed. “And check-ins. And hand-holding and fucking morning texts and someone who doesn’t make you cry every goddamn day.”

His voice cracked again. You felt it.

“And I want to be him,” Simon said, nearly choking on it. “I need to be him.”

Your body trembled beneath him. You were already so close, not just because of his cock, but because of the way he was inside you.

You came with a broken sob, your nails digging into his back, your legs shaking.

He came a moment later, groaning into your neck, and holding you tightly.

He didn’t pull out and didn’t move.

Just wrapped his arms around you, face pressed to your shoulder, and kissed you again and again and again, believing that if he just stayed close enough, the damage might finally start to heal.

...

Morning came quietly.

You woke to the pale gray light bleeding through your bedroom curtains, the kind of early morning glow that made everything feel hazy. For a few seconds, it was peaceful. Warm.

And then you remembered.

The weight behind you wasn’t just a dream.

Simon.

Still here, and breathing steadily against your back, one arm draped around your waist.

Your stomach twisted.

It wasn’t that last night had been bad. It hadn’t. If anything, it had been too good. Too soft. Too vulnerable. It was the kind of night you used to pray for back when you thought he’d never give it to you.

And now?

Now it just felt like weakness.

You untangled yourself from his arm slowly, carefully, trying not to wake him as you sat up and slipped your legs over the side of the bed. But he stirred anyway, and you felt his hand twitch behind you, reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

You stood up and didn’t turn around when you said it.

“Simon… you need to go.”

Silence.

Then the quiet sound of bedsheets rustling behind you.

“...You serious?” His voice was rough from sleep, low and uncertain in a way you weren’t used to hearing from him.

You nodded, still facing the window. “Yeah. I am.”

He sat up, and you could hear it, the shift in weight, the creak of the mattress, the pause before the sigh.

“Last night—” he started, but you cut him off.

“Was a moment,” you said, finally turning around to look at him. “That’s all. A moment of weakness. It doesn’t mean everything’s okay.”

He blinked at you, eyes bloodshot, hair messy, mouth parted.

“I meant everything I said,” he told you quietly. “Every word.”

“I know,” you said. “But meaning it isn’t enough. Not yet.”

He was quiet again, looking down at his hands, he didn’t know what to do with them now that they weren’t holding you.

“Okay,” he said eventually, dragging a hand through his hair and exhaling slowly. “Okay. I’ll go.”

You watched as he stood, pulled on his jeans, his hoodie, his boots. He didn’t rush, nor beg. He just moved with weighted sadness, like leaving was physically hard to do.

But at the door, he paused and turned around. “This isn’t the last time you’ll see me.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going.

“I’m gonna prove it to you. That I meant what I said. That I’m changing. You’re gonna look at me one day, and you’re not gonna feel stupid for loving me anymore.”

You didn’t reply.

You just looked at him, arms crossed, your heart pounding.

And then he opened the door and stepped into the hall, casting one last glance back over his shoulder.

“I’ll win you back,” Simon said, voice like a quiet promise. “Even if it kills me.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

And you didn’t breathe until you were alone again.

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

@nightunite I'm not done with this bitch yet.

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world @ruleroftides @rose37373 @succulambb @havoc973

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley smut

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sevsevteen · 2 days ago

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tw: implied harassment (non-graphic)

The ride back to the dorm was quiet.

Too quiet for someone who should’ve been excited - new solo lines, progress on the album, another step forward into Seventeen's dream. You clutched your bag tighter in the van’s back seat, headphones on, but nothing playing. Your fingers were trembling slightly.

Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe he didn’t mean it like that. Maybe you imagined the pause… the way his hand lingered when it 'accidentally' touched your thighs. The way he leaned too close. The way his fingers brushed your ear to tuck a loose strand behind.

Your mind repeated the scene again and again like a glitching loop. Each time you tried to rewrite it. Minimize it. Fix it so it felt less wrong.

He was a senior producer. Respected in the industry. “Famous for mentoring rookies.” The company even called you lucky to get private time with him. And he smiled the whole time - you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

And yet.

Your stomach had dropped when you saw him reaching for you again, that low voice saying, “You’re tense. You should learn to relax more. You’d be even prettier if you smiled.”

You don’t even remember what you said in response. Just that you left as fast as you could without running right after recording ended.

When you entered the dorm, the usual buzz of voices and background music filled your ears - a contrast to the quiet storm inside your chest.

“You’re back,” Dino called from the couch.

“You hungry?” Mingyu offered, walking past with a bowl of ramyeon.

“Recording go okay? Sorry I couldn't be there.” Woozi asked gently, spinning around from the couch.

You nodded, voice too soft. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But the members knew something was off. You didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Your smile was plastic - the kind the members always spotted fake, no matter how convincing it looked.

Joshua noticed it first, sitting up straighter. Then Seungcheol exchanged a look with Jeonghan, the unspoken message clear between them. Something had happened.

You retreated to your room quickly. Too quickly.

A few minutes passed before a knock sounded softly at the door.

“Can I come in?” It was Cheol.

You hummed.

He stepped in, careful, calm, like approaching a skittish animal - not because you were fragile, but because he respected your silence.

He didn’t ask anything at first. Just sat down beside you on the bed, waiting.

You folded in on yourself slowly, picking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “It was fine. The recording.”

Seungcheol nodded.

“But?” he said gently.

You hesitated. Then your voice cracked - barely audible. “It felt weird.”

His jaw tightened. “Weird, how?”

Your throat worked. “He… touched my hair. Said it was in my face. Then his hand bumped into my thighs, but didn’t really move away. It-" You had to take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m just making it up.”

“You’re not,” Seungcheol said instantly.

Your eyes welled. “But what if I misunderstood?”

He shook his head. “Even if it wasn’t intentional - the moment it made you uncomfortable, it mattered.”

Your tears broke free at that. No one had said that to your before. Not the staff, not the manager on the phone, not even yourself. Not until now.

“I didn’t know how to react,” you whispered.

“You don’t need to. Not alone.” Seungcheol looked at you firmly. “We’ll talk to the company. You’re not doing another solo session with him, ever.”

The next thing you knew, you were surrounded - Jun slipping in quietly to sit beside your other side, Seungkwan sat cross-legged on the floor, rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Dino leaned on the doorframe, eyes watery but jaw set like steel.

They didn’t bombard you with questions.

They just stayed.

Until the heaviness in your chest started to lift - not because the incident was gone, but because now… you weren’t alone in holding it.

#seventeen 14th member #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt 14th member #svt imagines #svt scenarios

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 2 days ago

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What's Left of Me is Yours

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Established Relationship)

Warnings: stalking (non-graphic but escalating), emotional distress, possessiveness, dark Bucky, reference to past Winter Soldier conditioning, implied violence, breakdowns, morally gray themes, reader called baby and is referred as his girl once

Summary: You didn’t want Bucky to know about the stalking. Not just because you were scared but because you knew what it could cost him. What it would pull out of him. But the second he finds out someone’s been watching you… he gives you a truth that chills you deeper than the fear ever could.

You didn’t mean for him to find out. You knew what it would do to him.

You’d worked so hard to hide the anxiety--the notes left under your door; the photos sent from an untraceable number. The feeling of being watched even while brushing your teeth. You didn’t want to be a burden. Didn’t want him to slip.

Because Bucky doesn’t just protect.

Bucky destroys.

So you lied.

For weeks, you lied.

Until tonight.

Until you stepped into your apartment and found the photo on your bed. A picture of you walking to the corner store. Alone. Vulnerable.

Scrawled across the bottom in smudged ink:

“You're even prettier up close.”

Your knees gave out. You don’t remember calling him. But you must’ve, because when you look up, Bucky is crouched in front of you, hands shaking, eyes like ice cracked wide open.

Now Bucky’s been hunted before. He knows the look of prey. And from the way your shoulders twitch. The way your head turns just a bit too often on crowded streets. The phone gripped like a weapon you’ll never use. He knows you’re being someone's prey because he’s seen it in the mirror. That quiet fear. The dread that stalks you even when you’re not being followed.

“Baby,” he whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your lip trembles. “I-I didn’t want it to be serious, didn't want you to worry. I didn’t want you to go back to… that...that place.” That place. The part of him you never name. But he’s already there. He rises to his feet. Paces once. Twice. Then stops, fists clenched at his sides.

“I need you to understand something,” he says. Voice low. Controlled. Terrifying. “If someone’s watching you, if someone thinks they can follow you, threaten you, touch you. I will find them. I am looking for them. And when I do—” His voice drops to a whisper. “There’s no line I won’t cross.”

Your heart pounds in your throat. “Bucky—”

He turns to you. Not frantic. Not angry. Just… honest.

“I would become him again. Happily,” he says. “I would be the Winter Soldier all over again if that’s what it takes. If that’s what keeps you safe. If that's what keeps you happy and out of harm, I would tear the trigger words out of the earth and let them take me if it meant you’d never be afraid again.”

You stare at him, stunned. Frozen.

“I’d choose it, baby,” he breathes, stepping forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’d lock away everything good left in me, every bit of peace I’ve clawed back, and become the weapon they made me if it meant you’d sleep through one night, if you could go to the store without looking over your shoulder.”

You don’t notice the tears flowing until you hear your voice crack. “You can’t say that.”

“I mean it,” he says. “And I know how fucked up that sounds. But you’re everything. You’re all the good I have. I’d do anything to keep you safe. Even if I’d have to be a monster again. You are mine; nothing can hurt you.”

You collapse into him, fists twisting in his shirt, sobbing into his chest.

And he just holds you. Quiet. Fierce.

“Whoever he is,” Bucky says darkly, “he’s already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He didn't sleep that night. You don’t notice, he holds you through the dark like always. But the second your breathing slows, and your body goes limp against his, he gets up. Silently, smoothly. Like he was never human to begin with.

By morning, he has your stalker’s name.

By noon, he knows all his habits, knows where he works, where he goes after work, knows where he lives, hell Bucky now knew where his mother lives.

By evening, Bucky has stood close enough to smell his cologne and imagine how his windpipe would feel like with his metal hand wrapped around it. How it would feel between a metal thumb and forefinger.

But he doesn’t touch him. Not yet. Predators don’t just pounce. They plan. And Bucky had lots of plans for his newest prey.

You don’t notice anything right away, not until the texts stop. Then you realize there were no more gifts. No more photos. No more notes. For the first time in months, you felt your shoulders relax, and your lungs fill with air once again.

However, somewhere in the city, there was a man who was hardly breathing. A man with a bruised throat, a few broken ribs and a lot of broken fingers. That man was told two promises, his body cringed into itself hearing the eerily calm, eerily quiet tone that the soldier that just finished torturing him contained. "If I ever find out that you are scaring my girl again...I will be the last thing you ever see. Honestly if you ever breath near her let alone look in her direction again no one will be able to find what's left of you."

Bucky left the man in a random back alley; he wiped blood off of his knuckles as he walked home to you. A smile creeped onto his face knowing he is keeping you safe once again.

He walks into the apartment and finds it dark and still, the only noise coming from the air conditioner in the window. Bucky eased his way through the small home; he kept himself quiet assuming you were asleep. Once he ends up wrapping himself around you like a barrier, he kisses your head and whispers:

“I’ll never let Hydra take me again. But if it’s for you, fuck baby… I’ll go willingly.”

What he misses is the small smile you fight back from hearing his vow. You know it should terrify you...and it does but it also saves you all at once.

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

Tagging:

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sangunary · 6 hours ago

Text

Yandere BatBoys × Civilians reader!

One click and you loosen the rope, one click they're coming, one click they'll devour you.

You didn't even mean it, you inherit the camera from your late grandmother and the poster on the walls were alluring that day.

take a pictures of the vigilantes and get money in return, it was an easy deal. You needed the money eitherway.

There was no going back once you sign yourself in, sneaking around at night trying to find one in action or just idling.

You didn't mean to uncover so much, the disgusting desire is monsters, the lingering smell of ecstasy, how they were always there perfect and at their best for your camera.

At first you ignored it, it wasn't your fantasies to care about, the smell is nothing and they were feeding your stomach... It was way too easy.

Yet you held onto your camera tighter, smiling each time a perfect picture came and that greed in your face was visible.

You were too busy with perfection that you didn't notice the shadow looming behind you, the smirk that follows after you celebrate taking a perfect picture, the sudden shift of atmosphere and... The cold nagging you ignored.

How their eyes would stare back at your hiding spot after you successfully taken a pictures, their face decorated with a smile that was meant for you.

That way they would get so close yet hesitate, and stood still suddenly, almost as of they like to rise your heart beat.

You were a fool, guided by money and greed.

Your pretty small room filled with photos of each of them, hanging by the threat you created. You ended up being obsessed.

Not with them but with the money.

You didn't notice how your drawer was open after a long day of stalking, how your bed was wrinkled and smelled of a man with desire, how your window lock was broken and somehow more organized that usual.

You didn't care, not by a long shot. If you keep up the good work you'll move out and find a decent home.

Even at the comfort of your home there was something always wrong.

Something you could pinpoint.

Each time you slept you woke up tired and restless, your body ache badly like you slept ina bad position, your head dizzy and your room extremely organised.

At the bedside table you found a picture taken by your very own camera, your picture with them. Your blood ran cold, you did remembered anything like that happening.

Your face perfectly captured, a masculine hands caressing your cheeks like he have been worshipping you for decades...

You slap your face hard to wake yourself from this terrible dream, yet it was true...

At the back it was written:

' You need me to survive and so do I, I cannot handle to admire you from afar.. My palms are itching to meet yours, I'll tear my flesh to stop the logging or you accept to be mine. I do not wish to harm you, but don't cross our line, you will not blame me if you do cross it. I don't know how much longer I can resist my desire... Be prepared to meet me soon. '

You drop the photo on the ground and cold sweat down your forehead. This felt like a threat than a love letter.

You don't know which one is loosing restrain, you're helpless and can only assume.

You fell to the ground legs weak for no reason, you saw the pile of books you have read on the ground, ontop of eachother neatly... By size.

You opened it with trembling hands, inside the book words would be circled in a read pen... Some once and some alot.

' For I will feast upon my dear self or any beating heart then burn you with my presence '

' Only mine to devour '

' The taste of your blood on my tongue symbolises my devoting love '

Each word and sentences getting more sick and outrageous... You don't remember buying such books.

you held your head on your hand, heart itching deep inside. You didn't know what was happening... Were you lucid dreaming?

One page was written in a neat handwriting a letter addressed to you, this one was different from the one on the photo of yours.

' I will not stop until you are completely mine, when our soul and flesh merged our love will blossom. Afterall, you seek my presence first and therefore I grant you my twisted love '

God, this people are sick. You threw the book, you tried to get up yet you slipped and fell on the cold ground. Your legs completely numb and the dizziness never leaving.

You remembered drinking a cup of coffee you made and went to sleep, how did they slip the poison in? Or was it something else. But, you only drank coffee at home last night nothing else to consume.

you pick up your phone and dial your employer. The person who have been paying you and the reason for your situation.

You yelled and even cursed him out before he could talk. How this shitty job didn't pay you enough to be in this situation. To be the clown in skilled mans life.

When he respond your voice stuck in your throat, the voice was new not the raspy, always out of breath and clearly old didn't great you.

His voice was younger by sound, talks your age and the attitude was new. This was not your boss... What the hell is going on?

" Are you sure you want to quit? "

You didn't hesitate, the moment you realised your job was definitely going to cause more then expected you were ready to cut the line.

" Then... I'll have to cut your money since you couldn't complete it "

Well, that's fine. You've worked long enough to be unemployed for months.

" I'll also have to take the money back... Since it's in the terms and conditions of your job "

Take back? Is he serious, all the money in your account are earn through legal process...

Suddenly your phone ring, checking what was going on as you watch in horror the money from your account suck out.

Even the ones you earn through other side job was taken, completely freaked out you ask him what the hell was going on.

" See, darling you can't have everything you want... It's either you continue your work or starve, rent is due as well. I know you're smart enough to do the right thing. "

You didn't have a choice, it's either being homeless and possibly dying or continue your work.

Looking up from the ground you look at your camera, well kept and clean.

Reaching out for it you hold it against you. You'll be fine, just endure this for a while and you'll get out... Just a few more pictures.

more coming ->

Might turn this into a series.

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rhettrosunsets · 1 day ago

Text

Hospital Bed's And Confessions - Porch Swing And Promises Series| Girl Dad!Rhett Abbott X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Rhett Abbott X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff! So much fluff!

Summary: Rhett has been terrified of what type of dad he's going to be since the moment you told him you were pregnant, but when the nurse hands him your daughter for the first time, he has a realization that begins to heal him.

Masterlist

Porch Swings And Promises Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: No use of Y/N, no description of reader, Pregnancy, Rhett doubting himself as a parent, Hospitals, Birth, mentions of Rhett's own upbringing, mentions of Rhetts doubts about being a good husband.

“Rhett Abbott! You aren’t going to break her. I promise you, she’s a lot stronger than she looks, Baby.” You told Rhett softly, your eyes full of love as you spoke to him, trying to calm down his never ending nerves.

Rhett had never been at just good at standing still. It was something you had always teased him for. He was never able to stand in one place for long, always needing to do something, walk around, be productive.

He'd been pacing the hospital room for the last twelve hours you'd been in labor, so worried about you and worried about his daughter. But he felt cemented to the floor the second the nurse turned around and placed the tiny, squirming bundle that was his daughter into his arms.

He’d thought about this moment since the moment you had told him you were pregnant. He'd worried about it enough that he felt he had aged five years alone within the last nine months. He had dreamed about this moment. He'd dream about what your combined futures would look like from now on.

Truthfully, he wanted to run from it and also run towards it at the same time. Nothing had made sense to him after you had told him all those months ago, he felt like the world's biggest contradiction for the emotions he was dealing with on a daily basis.

He’d lay awake on sleepless nights when you couldn’t seem to get comfortable and would cry into his shoulder about how tired you were and how your body ached, while one hand would rest over your growing belly. He’d whisper all his hopes and fears to you, the future, what you wanted from it, what type of parents you were going to be.

He remembered promising you on a particularly bad night when you sobbed into his arms for hours due to your aching back and nausea that you just couldn’t seem to curb, that he’d build you that wrap-around style porch you’ve always wanted and dreamed about since he first met you. He told you he'd put a porch swing out there so your little family could sit out there and watch the sunrises and sunsets, something you've always wanted.

But nothing, absolutely nothing could've prepared him for this moment right here. She was so small, almost her entire body being able to fit in one of his hands, as she was wrapped in a plush white blanket with small yellow ducks on it, making her seem more like a babydoll than his daughter. Her little face was red and scrunched up from crying, but as soon as he held her close and near to him, she settled into his chest and her little body went still as she stopped her frantic squirming. And just like that, he knew the rest of his life would forever be changed by the little bundle he was holding in his arms.

His knees nearly gave out, as his throat tightened, while his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. But she was finally here, all the months of crying, the months of planning, the months of you two building your perfect house. The hours of labor done to create her nursery. The hours he spent holding you and comforting you while you felt anything but yourself.

She was finally here, and she was the perfect mixture of both of you. When he looked down at her, his thumb coming up to trace her tiny face, it hit him hard. “I don’t deserve you or your Momma” he whispered in such a soft tone, like he was petrified he was going to startle her. He didn’t mean it in the way people say when they’re overwhelmed with emotions and just blurt something out, no, he meant it like a truth he carried in his bones for years since he met you that day in the coffee shop and fell in love with you.

He’d spent so many years believing he’d screw this part of life up. Telling himself that he’d never be a good dad because he didn’t know how too, because he didn’t have a good example himself. He didn’t believe he was cut out to be someone’s example of what a man and father should look like, he always said that he was too rough around the edges, that he’d be too quick to run at the first sign of a problem, that he'd just end up hurting you in the long-run.

But now, here he was, standing with you in the quiet hospital room, holding his daughter, his little girl. The word echoed over and over again in his head as he shifted her slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, supporting her as he peered down and looked at her tiny form in his hands.

“Hi, Sunshine” he said, his voice a bit rough, as his eyes welled up with tears. “I’m your Daddy, babygirl” he watched as her little mouth opened in a sleepy yawn, while her small fingers curled into tiny fists resting against his chest.

“I didn' know I could love someone I just met, this much” he muttered quietly before sitting down slowly on the edge of the hospital couch, still staring at the small bundle in his arms.

He could see you resting nearby, exhausted but watching, and it broke in him again, because you looked at him like he was enough, like he could do this and like he’d be good enough, and what broke him the most, like you trusted him to be good enough.

He hadn’t known a love like this existed, it wasn’t like the love he had for you. That type of love already had its own place carved into his chest, and has had a spot there since the moment he met you. A big you shaped hole that he's had since he moment he first saw you. That love was steady, strong, warm, gentle and quiet. It felt like you wrapped around him, you telling him everything would be okay even when you didn't know if it would be, the moments of you two running off laughing like little kids, the moments where you’d pull him into the rain just to watch him smile as you danced around, the moments when you looked at him like he was your everything.

But this, this love was something else entirely. This love felt like terror and admiration. He felt the most instinctual kind of protection that made him feel like he’d throw himself in front of a train if it meant your daughter would never know a day of being hurt. This was something so pure and intense, that it frankly scared the hell out of him.

She blinked slowly peering up at him, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks. She had your nose, and your eyes. He knew that she had him wrapped around his finger entirely, just like you do, and she wasn’t even an hour old.

“I ain’t perfect, Sunshine. And m'gonna mess up, probably a lot.” He said as he swallowed hard. “But m'gonna try, every single day and gonna try my damndest to make sure you never go a day without knowin’ that you’re loved. You’re not gonna grow up wonderin’ if you’re good enough. I promise you that babygirl. You and u’re momma are the two most important things in my life. ”

Her little face scrunched up before relaxing as he rocked her gently, his heart pounding as he kept whispering to her “I’m gonna teach you how to ride if you ever wanna learn, and m’gonna teach you how to change a tire. And I’m probably going to cry the first time you put on those little boots your momma and I got you and they actually fit.”

He leaned his head down until his forehead rested lightly against hers. “I’m scared outta my mind here, Sunshine. And I feel so out of my depth.” he whispered, his eyes stinging as he managed to choke out a soft “But I’ve never wanted to be good at anything more in my life than I wanna be good at being your Daddy, and being a good husband to your momma.”

She gurgled softly in her sleep, and he laughed quietly while the tears in his eyes finally fell. Your hand reached out, gently touching his arm. You were smiling, obviously exhausted, but smiling like Rhett has given you the world, and he turned toward you, looking at you like the rest of the world had disappeared besides you and your daughter. “She already adores you” you hummed out exhaustedly “She’s gonna be a daddy’s girl, I can just tell.”

Rhett looked down again at the tiny human in his arms, the tiny little girl that the two of you made. “I love you two more than I thought was ever possible.” He kissed her forehead, as he looked at you, the tears streaming down his cheeks. And In that moment, Rhett Abbott, the rodeo cowboy, the deemed troublemaker, the youngest son of a rough family who had more to deal with than anyone knew? Well, right now in this hospital room he wasn’t any of those things, he was just a husband, and a Dad.

And he’d never been prouder of anything in his life than his two girls.

Taglist: @darkwhisperswolf

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #girl dad rhett #outer range #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fluff #one shot #fluff #fem insert #x fem!reader

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mona-risms · 1 day ago

Note

Also in way less wholesome thoughts about Rumi, I think she has a insane breeding kink.

I don’t even think she would know it until she slept with someone. But I feel like that would send her into a feral frenzy.

Like, all that shame and guilt her whole life from being a demon, and all the other repressed emotions she had to bottle up would explode if she was fucking someone and they told her they wanted to have kids with her.

I feel like for irony sake that may just turn her into a succubus. A simple fuck would turn into a day long feral mating marathon.

Like it would probably work it’s way through the whole living space, starting in the bedroom, for an hour or two until the bed is completely ruined, tears from claws, a broken bed frame, stained with sweat, squirt, and seed.

Moving on to the couch eventually that would get much of the same treatment.

Pressed against those big windows, juices seeping down the glass.

On the kitchen table with claw marks in the wood from Rumi.

Using the cabinets to keep her standing as you rail her eventually pulling them off the walls.

But neither of you care.

It’s not pretty sex.

You’re both flushed, scratchs, bite marks, squirt, seed, spit, and sweating all over. Ran ragged like you just ran a triathlon.

Rumis hole looks like a glazed donut from how much seed has been put in and spilled out of her at all angles.

By the time you are halfway through moans have just devolved into her shrieking from overstim.

But she just can’t stop herself. And you don’t wanna stop either.

People are calling phones… Rumis missing a interview rn.

Eventually the girls just find you both passed out in the middle of the apartment covered in all the fluids that could possibly come from sex passed out from exhaustion.

Sincerely

Tsaritsa Pyro Archon Anon

I have a breeding kink too there we go we're Perfectly compatible! And this is obviously why me and Rumi should be married!!!!

But fr shit would go CRAZY HELLO 😭😭😭😭😭 I mean tbf a demon's gotta have their sustenance somehow 😜😜😜😜 JOKING JOKING maybe not joking shhh you're out here doing my job for me fr though actuallg LMFAOOAAO

Her bedroom must be so fucking wrecked before you two migrate to the balcony, a mix of fluids everywhere as she finally lets out the loudest fucking noises instead of her biting it down and restraining them, and then to the shared living space. Like Zoey and Mira are both out for promotional material they'd probably have to do individually, so they left much earlier and now the penthouse is empty as hell, save for the two of you

NOTHING survives in the shared space though you're right in this—EVERY surface is thoroughly defiled and utilised. Should Rumi care? Yes. Would she care under different circumstances? Definitely yes. But right now the only thing in her mind is making sure she drains you dry, everything else blurs away from the sheer intensity of your coupling

If you're using an ejaculating strap then ugh FUCK yes it makes no difference to her as long as she feels full and thoroughly bred. If anything? She'd probably want you to get the strap with the most capacity. But is it a good idea, if you have a working dick and could Potentially get her pregnant? No, probably not, but the way you fucked her and never let go, the way you were so achingly sincere in the way you'd Want to have kids with Her. Even despite the whole half-demon thing, the main insecurity she's had for her entire life? She'll take the risk for once either way, after avoiding risks on herself for so long

Mira and Zoey most likely got contacted by Bobby in a panic bc "WHERE IS SHE??????" so they come back home.....and SCREAM at the state because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST??????? SORRY didn't REALISE they needed HAZMAT SUITS????????????? You probably get woken up and honestly good luck trying to explain why the Fuck there's so much damage and. Fluids. EVERYWHERE. They're never letting either of you live this down, ESPECIALLY Rumi considering she caused most of the extreme damage (thanks demon heritage!!!!) and how she's stained and dripping nonstop 😭

If you even dare try to explain what happened to Bobby the poor guy might faint. But it's okay it's why they're paying him the 3% right.....though he might need to be compensated via 4% GAHAHAHAHA

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toxicrelief · 1 day ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty

Synopsis: You, Rex and Bulletproof are expected to share a room together for the night.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Chapter: 20/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: W*rk is kicking my ass, thank you all for being so patient! Happy 100k!!

“No way in hell am I sleeping on one of those couches.” Zandale pulls his bag over to the bed.

“I mean they look nice at least, right?” You say it more to comfort yourself than the other two standing in the very over-the-top guest room with you.

“Sure, it looks nice, it doesn’t look comfortable.” He sits down at its edge, giving a few gentle pets to test out the firmness of the mattress. “For having so much money, I’m a little disappointed.”

“Why would she be worried about the guest beds? She probably sleeps on a giant brick of gold or something.” You took the chance to sit down on the couch you were standing in front of. It wasn’t bad, but you could tell it was not going to be anywhere near restful.

Rex remained almost eerily silent, the only proof of his presence was the sound of the wood creaking lightly as he laid back on the other couch, testing it out himself.

Bulletproof was slipping off his suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly behind him on the bed. Lying back, he pulled out his phone, responding to whoever the guy had to respond to. Now that you thought about it, what does he do outside of being a Guardian? Maybe nothing?

It was interesting to you how much being a Guardian seemed to fully encapsulate some of the other members’ identities. After begging for an hour, Donald had let you look over the files of the old Guardians, you had claimed to want to learn, and that was partially true. But you were also just really curious. For your whole childhood, they had been the team. Everyone knew their names, everyone had a favorite, and everyone trusted that they would be there.

From their files, a lot of the old team seemed to have full lives outside of their work. War Woman was a high-up executive in a company she had helped build from the ground up. Green Ghost had been a photographer, even Aquarus had been the literal king of Atlantis. Most of them had spouses, or people they were dating, they had whole lives. With the brutal killing of all the former members, it was hard to remember it had been different before.

Even when trying to make small talk with the patients at the hospital, you noticed it. Hardly anyone on the outside seemed interested in familiarizing themselves with the new team. A few people had said things to the tune of “Oh yeah, wasn’t that guy on the original team?” or “I thought he died?”. To the world, the Guardians were no longer a phenomenon. They weren’t indestructible or untouchable, they definitely weren’t invincible. They were dead. A new group to replace them didn’t overshadow the shock that followed the initial announcement of the massacre.

Robot’s or Immortal’s, whoever’s team, didn’t come across as united, and from the inside it didn’t feel that way either. The team was capable, sure. But you still wondered how fulfilled the other members were truly feeling.

After a few more minutes of comments on the room you began to eye the guest bathroom residing in the corner of the room, to the left of the bed. Unless you are content with sleeping in your dress you should probably get changed, maybe even shower. It had been a long night. Lifting the small suitcase, you unzipped it open, trailing a hand over the nightwear you had brought. It was…fine. Mismatched, cozy, reliable. But you had originally been under the impression you would have your own room. If you had known differently, would you have brought something else? Eh, probably not. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you remember something that had proved to be a hindrance earlier. You’ll need help unzipping your dress.

There were few things you could think of off the top of your head that you’d rather do less at this exact moment than ask Rex to help again. So, onto the next best choice. After standing, and purposely avoiding looking at the other couch, you loitered near Zandale, who was practically ripping through his duffle bag. Surprisingly well-packed for a two-day mission.

“Can you help me really quick?”

He threw a shirt down at the bag, frustration clearly rising. “Stupid mission, with a stupid dance, stupid beds-”

You leaned back on your heels, trying to wait patiently, but the longer you stood watching him pull out somehow yet another graphic tee, the less easy it was to be patient. “Hello-?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“I forgot it.” He sighed.

“It? What it? You have like fifty thousand shirts in there, man.” You leaned forward to look into the contents of the bag, but he was already zipping it up. He let out a groan, resting his elbows on his knees while staring past you.

What on earth is he going on about-?

No.

Nope.

He’s not about to do this.

“Who were you texting, Zandale?” You squint, watching a small smile ghost over his expression that disappears just as soon as it arrives.

He clears his throat, standing up. “I forgot my shirt.”

There’s a pause as you look down at his now-closed duffle bag that contained at least five different shirts.

“Really?” You respond dryly.

“Yeah, there’s a specific one I sleep in, well, you know how it is.”

“No, I don’t know how it is, Zandale. Just wear one of those.” You gesture down to the bag with a tense hand.

He hums, looking down at it before glancing back up. “Those are too cottony-”

“What?” You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.

“And the bed feels like shit. So, I was sitting here, quietly lamenting how awful my night would be, in a cotton shirt on an uncomfortable bed, and it hit me. I can leave.” No. “I can actually be home, and in my own bed, before you’re even ready for bed.” No fucking way.

“Why do you even need to wear a shirt to go to bed, Zandale?” You shake your head, pressing two fingers to your temple, then lowering your voice, hopefully to a tone Rex couldn’t overhear. “Was it Rae? You were texting Rae, weren’t you?”

He ignores you and continues. “It has been absolutely lovely spending a whole evening with you two, but I’m actually good-”

“Zandale-”

“I’ll be sure to be back on time in the morning-”

“Zandale, no-”

“I could technically take one of you with me, but that would add travel time, and I’m absolutely beat-”

‘Please don’t.’ You mouth it at Zandale, narrowing your eyes at him, with the subtlest shake of the head. As frustrated as you were right now with him and Rae, who most likely was putting him up to it, you were somewhat more frustrated that Rex was saying absolutely nothing.

Bulletproof gives you a pout and slowly walks up to you, putting up an act like he’s really considering. He stands directly before you, puts his hand out on your shoulder, and- “Yeah no, every man for themselves.”

“Dick.”

“Thank me later.” Dick!

You had almost expected him to grab his things, open a window, and fly away. Instead, he picked his bags up, put them neatly in a corner, and rather anticlimactically left out the main door. Leaving you alone with Rex who was positioned away from you. One of his arms folded neatly underneath his head, the one on his injured side resting on his lower stomach. It was probably the only way he could lie without pulling at whatever stitches he now had.

A pang of guilt washed over you. Guilt that he got hurt, that he came along on this mission. Guilt that you hadn’t healed him. Which was quickly replaced by the annoyance that he didn’t allow you to heal him. And that annoyance was even quicker replaced by more annoyance that Zandale had really just bailed. And he had done so without even helping you with what you had originally gone to ask him for help with.

Rex finally looked over at you, meeting your gaze. You threw your hands up in exasperation, a silent, ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

“What?”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, grabbing your bag and heading to the bathroom.

You tried a few times to reach your zipper on your own, even considering pulling it over your head. After a few failed attempts, and the sound of threads buckling, you finally decided to call it quits. Leaning against the bathroom counter, you pressed on the first contact in your phone, selecting to call. Simply messaging her would take longer than you wanted.

“Hello?”

“You did this, didn’t you?” You hissed it out, your voice low as you turned on the sink to drown out your words.

“Don’t worry about thanking me or whatever, drinks are on you next time I’m over.”

“I’m not thanking you, Rae! This is extremely inconvenient!”

“It’s inconvenient to be alone in a room for the night with a guy you’ve been drooling over?” The sarcasm drips in her tone, even through the distortion of the call itself.

“How did you even know we were all going to be in a room together? I didn’t even know that!”

“Zandale owes me money because you two apparently danced tonight-”

“God, not a semblance of discretion on this whole fucking team-” You sighed, clicking your nails against the marble countertop.

“Anyways,” She cut in loudly, “He told me about the room situation, and I told him he wouldn’t owe me if he left the room. He was complaining about being stuck between you two eye-fucking each other anyways so-”

“Rae!” You put a hand over your face, you knew that Bulletproof had been someone clued into your feelings, but to know he had been observing made it much worse. “Rae, I love you, you’re wonderful, amazing, beautiful, everything, you just royally fucked me on this.”

“Hopefully I’m not the only one getting to fuck you-”

“Rae, oh my god, can you just listen?”

She snickered but didn’t speak over you.

How exactly do you explain that you are quite angry with Rex right now without going into way too much detail? “He’s…well, he’s an asshole.”

“You already knew this, babe. Have fun!”

“Wait, Rae, seriously-” And… she’s gone.

After staring at your reflection for a few moments, and having a mental crash-out, you prepared for bed to the best of your ability while still wearing the dress.

“Have fun talking on the phone?” Rex sounded as you left the restroom, he was facing towards the door, now sitting up on the couch. His tie was loosened, and the top of his dress shirt was unbuttoned.

You gave him an unimpressed look, but you could still feel your face heating up. “Yes, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have listened in.”

“Yeah, sure.” You roll your eyes with a sigh, dropping your stuff next to the bed. Maybe you should offer it to him, he was shot after all. You turn to him again, opening your mouth to offer it, and-

“Are you going to bed wearing that?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “And what about it, Rex?”

His eyes ran over you, a semi-confused expression dusting his features. “Why-” He paused. “Do you need help?”

“Your help?”

“Yeah, I’m the only one here aren’t I?”

“Then no.”

“Are you fucking serious, Joy?”

“Yes, thank you.” You were already pulling back the duvet and sliding under the comforter. It was almost immediately uncomfortable. But at this point, you weren’t about to give in and ask him. As good as he looked sitting on the couch, with his arms slotted over his knees, and his tie hanging loose, you were still angry with him.

It’s quiet for a minute or two, the lights are all still on, so all you can do is lay with your eyes closed, hoping morning will come quick. Eventually, you hear the shuffling of Rex grabbing his things to go to the restroom, the door closes, and you hear the shower turn on.

With stitches that fresh he most definitely should not be taking a shower, but you weren’t exactly raring to go barge in and stop him. Rolling on your back you started up at the intricately decorated ceiling.

It was separated into sections, golden leaf etchings mapping out the edges of each box. The walls were painted deep red, with dark mahogany load-bearing beams jutting across the room. Overall, the room was bordering on maximalist, a variety of different wall decorations littering every open available area, all overlapping and intertwining in an artful way. It was a stark contrast with the subtle greens and browns of your furnished apartment.

Your apartment that Rex had haphazardly clamored into, soaking wet.

You ran a hand over your face at the memory. Usually, you pushed it away when it surfaced. The guilt that you didn’t go with him felt suffocating at times, but this time you didn’t.

The shower was still running; Rex would be gone for a bit longer. What was the harm in reanalyzing it? Not the confusion, or the anger, or the frustration, but the feeling of his eyes on you. His hand pressed flesh against the wood of the front door, your breaths intermingling. His eyes on you in the elevator. It made your stomach twist.

He had asked you to dance. Talked your ear off for hours about islands versus bar-styled countertops, and the different ways to properly utilize skylights. Which, you didn’t think there was even a way to utilize it, right? It was just there to let in natural lighting and look pretty. Rex had sighed heavily when you said this and launched into a whole lecture about it. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but you started to enjoy the sound of his voice. Steady, constant. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most elegantly spoken person ever, you couldn’t come up with anyone who cursed half as much as he did. But it was comfortable, you couldn’t say the same for trying to sleep in this dress.

Ugh. You felt like a proper sap. Even now, as angry with him as you were, you almost missed him. He wasn’t even a room away and you missed him. Thank god Rae can’t read your thoughts, or you’d really never hear the end of it. This is borderline pathetic.

The sound of the shower turning off lurching you from your thoughts. You quickly turned on your side, away from the bathroom, although you’re not sure why. A few minutes pass and the door creaks open, the fan inside the bathroom whirling away the silence of the bedroom. You wait to hear footsteps, but they don’t come. He’s standing there at the door, you can feel his eyes on you, but you refuse to look back.

“Are you sleeping or just still ignoring me?” His voice is quiet, unsure. The statement itself is ridiculous though, you haven’t been ignoring him any more than he’s been ignoring you. You were so consistently aware of him that it almost seemed impossible to truly ignore him.

“I’m not ignoring you, Rex, we just talked a few minutes ago.” Your response came out short and sharp, more so than you intended.

“That wasn’t talking.”

You breathed out a sigh, turning finally to face him, propping yourself up on your elbows. The short length of his hair dried quickly, which somewhat disappointed you after the trip down memory lane to how he’d looked at your apartment. Wet strands clinging to his face, droplets clinging to every lock. He was out of the dress shirt and was now wearing a generic white t-shirt, over dark grey boxers. “What would you like to talk about?” Your tone dry, closed off.

You wanted to talk to him, wanted him to talk to you. But the residual irritation was still clinging to you like a burr entrenched in an old dog’s fur. You couldn’t shake it.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That guy…whatever his name was. He had you in a really rough spot.”

“I survived.”

“I know that, but are you okay?”

There was a longer silence. You tilted your head an inch, looking at him, really looking at him. “I’ve had a gun pointed at me before. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” Soft, hardly audible.

“Rex, I know you think I struggle to hold my own but-”

He groans, “Would you stop that?”

You bite back your response, pushing yourself up more so that you are fully sitting up. The gesture pulls your dress, causing the top to dig mildly into your shoulders. Pulling at it absentmindedly, you try to formulate a response.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?” He’s taken a few steps towards you. You can smell the shampoo, it was fancy, something already set in the bathroom. Distinctly not him.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?” You shoot back with a glare, your eyes settling on his side you know is injured.

“Is that seriously what it’ll fucking take?” Irritation laces his voice. It could make you sigh once again, you didn’t want to be fighting with him, but a small voice in your head reminded you that he had refused your help. Doubted your abilities.

“Maybe it is.” You shift, the silk of your dress exaggerating the movement with how little friction you have against the sheets. “You’re not supposed to take a shower that soon after getting stitches anyways, you’re gonna get an infection.”

“Christ! Are we really doing this again?”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“No, I’m not, I offered to help you with your dress!”

“You can help me with the dress after I’ve healed you!”

“Unbelievable.” Rex let out a huff, crossing his arms, which proved to be ill-thought-through, as he immediately returned his arms to his sides, fighting a wince.

You scooted out of bed, crossing the short distance to him. “Deal?”

Rex’s expression furrowed, but he surprisingly didn’t seem to want to argue further. He held his hand out for you, and you quickly took it. The last thing you wanted was for him to change his mind at the last second. Shutting your eyes tightly you willed your way through it. Mending the wound in his side, and a few other bruises you could sense were waiting to announce themselves in a few hours just below the skin. With your thumb pressed firmly against his pulse point, you could almost swear you felt his heartbeat stutter.

“Okay, happy?” His voice was low still, his eyes practically drilling into you.

“More than I was.” You concede, letting go of his hand.

“Will you let me help you now?”

“I suppose.” You murmur, and before you can turn for him, his hands are on your shoulders, guiding you to face away. The pads of his fingers rough against your skin, sending a lightning-fast spark down your spine. With every passing moment, you only became more and more aware of the fact that the two of you were alone in a room and that he was helping you free yourself from the confines of your dress.

His touch left your shoulder to meet with the back of your dress, easily unzipping it for you. The interaction lasted no more than a few seconds, but that’s all it took. It felt intimate, too much.

As soon as his grasp on the zipper disappeared you were practically jumping away, grabbing your bag again, and locking yourself in the bathroom. Really, really smooth.

Switching to your nightwear took no time at all, but you still spent a good few minutes standing against the door, regulating your breathing. Willing yourself to get a fucking grip.

When you returned, Rex was settled back on his couch, both arms now settled under his head with his side injury taken care of.

“You can have the bed if you want-”

“No.” It cuts through the end of your sentence. A breath passed between you, without him looking over. “Thank you for offering, I guess.”

Okay…

You shrugged to yourself; you weren’t going to fight him on it. The bed was much more comfortable, and the exhaustion of the evening was catching up with you. After you had closed the bathroom door, there was a surprising amount of light still filtering under the bedroom door and over the curtains. Did they ever turn the lights off in the hallway? The sheets felt much better now that you weren’t in the confines of your dress, you were ready to pass out, and after a few turns, you did.

You couldn’t have been asleep for long. It felt like you’d blinked from when you must have fallen asleep to right now. You were sure you heard something but you were too groggy to know for sure what it had been. So, you waited, straining to hear something, anything-

It’s soft. Not what had woken you up, but definitely distinguishable. You can hear Rex’s breathing, it’s quick, distressed. A few moments after zeroing in on the sound of it, a soft groan breaks through the silence. It’s sharp, clear indicator of pain. Before you can fully register anything, you’re swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The floor feels cool against your bare feet, and the warmth of the blankets beckons you to lay back down, but you push through. You pad as quietly as you can over to the couch, slamming your foot into your bag at one point, which draws a stifled breath from you.

“Rex?” He didn’t immediately stir. The only thing now illuminating the room was the ghost of light peeking through the curtains. It shined on part of the wall behind the couch, a corner of it hardly lighting his face. His eyebrows were tight, an obvious sign of discomfort. “Rex.” You said again, lowering yourself down closer to the ground so he didn’t wake up to you standing over him.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you put your hand on his arm, preparing to say his name again. But upon contact his hand quickly grasped yours, his eyes now open. You give him a speedy once over, his chest was rising and falling in a hectic fashion. His eyes quickly scanned your face, mouth slightly parted. After a few blinks and a deep shaky breath, his grip loosened on your wrist, obviously needing a moment to fully recognize you and the environment around him.

“Rex?” You whispered, not trying to take your hand back. His thumb was lightly grazing over the back of it, making goosebumps rise up your arm. He had relaxed mildly, rolling slightly to face towards the ceiling, trying to regulate his breathing. For a moment you felt a little hot, watching his chest rise and fall so desperately. You closed your eyes mentally shaking the thought. He was obviously reliving something bad, and you were thinking about how good he looked? Get a grip.

“Come to the bed.”

“What?” His voice was scratchy from sleep, but you didn’t miss the quickness with which he snapped to look at you.

“I don’t want you sleeping over here alone, and you have just as much of a right to the bed.” Rex hesitated for a moment and then went to speak. His body language screamed that he was going to refuse. “I can’t sleep with you over here being as loud as you’re being.” You tease lightly, hoping that will be enough, but just in case you add, “We can put pillows down the middle if you’re so worried. But this is ridiculous.”

Rex closed his mouth and gave a light sigh, his tired gaze staring into you.

“Was I really being loud?”

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, standing up again. “Come on.” Your hand leaves him, and you take notice of how his hand follows you a few inches before dropping back down. You still couldn’t understand why he didn’t kiss you earlier during the dance. Every sign you were picking up on screamed that he was interested, he did everything but outright say it. “Get up loser.” You grabbed his blanket, tossed it over the other side of the couch, and offered him a hand. He didn’t take it of course, but it wasn’t in the same way as other times. There was no malice behind the act, but rather hesitation.

You go back to the bed, settling back on your side, pulling the blanket down on his. You pushed one of the decorative pillows vertically in the middle to separate his side from yours. After making a show of demonstrating it he finally moved to the other side of the bed. After a brief pause, he was in bed with you, pulling the covers up over him.

You weren’t sure what to do now. Or even if this would actually help. Chances were he could still have troublesome dreams here, but now you’d hear it even more. You pulled the duvet up a little more, the coarse material grazing your cheek. You were facing each other, something you thought would be awkward.

But it wasn’t. You both just stared, a heavy, weighted silence drifting over you. His bright verdant eyes traveled over your face. You could feel your eyes drooping slightly from the exhaustion you were still feeling.

“Do I really repulse you that badly?” The whispered question caught you off guard, causing your eyes to snap open again.

“What?” You’re met with silence, unnerving, sterile. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He started, his fingers picking at the embroidering on the pillow between you. “Earlier, I helped you with your dress, and you left as fast as you could, and now, with the pillow-”

In this moment you were increasingly grateful that there was very little lighting, because your face was feeling so warm you were sure there was no way he would have been able to miss it.

“You don’t repulse me, Rex.” You blinked a few times. He was completely misreading you.

“Yeah, sure, no need to say it just to try making me feel better, you know.”

“When have I ever said something solely for the purpose of making you feel better, hm?” You smiled, your own hand mirroring his in tracing the embroidery.

“Maybe I keep hoping you’ll learn to try.” His voice regains a bit of its life, less the small whisper, more Rex.

“Tough luck, Sloane.” His last name ghosted over your lips, something you’d been waiting to bring up since you heard it.

He groaned, turning his head to he was stifled by his pillow. “Oh, brother.”

“Rex Sloane, hm?” You roll on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “Not horrible as far as last names go. Very official though, I think you were meant to be a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” It’s muffled still.

“Mhm. Sloane and Co. Your business partners wouldn’t get a choice in the name because you wouldn’t be able to get anyone to stick around with you for long. You know, with your dazzling personality.”

“Ouch.”

“Now that I think about it, all lawyers are dicks, so you’d fit in well.”

“Well, that’s a reassurance.” He sighs, rolling back onto his back as well.

You hum in response. “Sloane…Sloane-“ You test out his last name a few times in different tones, snickering to yourself as he lets out a disgruntled noise a few times.

“Stop saying it.”

“Why? Worried I’ll wear it out?”

“Something like that.” He said lowly, his head turned to look at you.

“Limited edition?”

“Would you quit it?”

There’s another pause, only clouded by the sounds of your shared, disjointed breathing. You shift back again, the bed creaking softly, so you’re on your side facing him. The center pillow only made it harder to make out his face, so you push it down further, wedging it between your chest and his upper arm.

“Have you been having a lot of nightmares lately?” It’s a whisper, your voice crackling through the empty air.

“A few.” He mumbled back, his gaze lowering down your face, or at least you think it does, it’s too dark to tell.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is a little.” You respond quietly. He had asked you to come back with him. That night all those weeks ago. You could still feel the rain dripping down your face. You could still feel his gaze on you as the car you had called for him traveled down the road in front of your apartment.

“You wouldn’t have known.” His features are soft, he means it.

“It was immature, I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“It’s not like Rudy and I gave you any choice.” He chuckled softly, a familiar bitterness, not directed at you, but at the memory.

“I should have been the bigger person, stood my ground.”

“You shouldn’t have even been put in that position in the first place.”

Your gaze searched his eyes, and for a moment you wanted to cry. One shot to the head and he was no longer clinging to his belief that you didn’t belong. But what if he was right? He and Rudy had not figured out the whole picture when confronting you, but they weren’t wrong. You were hiding something. You were still hiding something. Everything inside screamed at you to tell him, admit that a part of him was right. Apologize. Yell at him for being nice to you now. Something.

“I’m sorry Rex.” Was all you could manage to murmur for now.

His brows twitched closer together, and his mouth curled slightly downward in an expression you couldn’t quite read. Was he angry? Upset that you were trying to apologize now instead of a few weeks ago when he first woke up in the hospital? It made your stomach lurch.

“God…Joy-” He paused before uttering your actual name like he was having to correct himself. “Would you just-” He tilted his head, looking up at the ceiling again as if fighting himself on something before he turned back to you. His eyes are on you again, but for a split second. it feels different. Like he can hardly contain himself, before he says, “Fuck it.” in a low tone.

His left hand is quickly on the side of your neck, it’s a gentle touch, but there was a firmness to it, unwavering. In the movement he had pushed the duvet slightly off your shoulder. His thumb brushes right behind your ear sending a jolt of shock down your spine. Not even a second later his mouth is on yours. Hungry. Desperate. The suddenness of the action steals the breath from your lungs. Your brain is hardly functioning fast enough to process what is happening.

As quickly as it happened, he’s pulling away. His hand lifting to hover over your neck rather than laying directly against it. So much for the barrier pillow.

“Fuck-” A shaky tone laced around his words. “I’m sorry-”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish what he is saying. And frankly, you did not care to know what it was going to be. You had surged forward to meet him again, his shock present in the way he tensed. Only a second was needed before his hand was back on the side of your neck. He groaned lightly into the kiss; it made you feel lightheaded. His lips parted slightly, inviting you in. As you deepened the kiss his fingers pushed further, meeting with your hair. They curled slightly, grasping a few locks.

Your hands came forward to grab fistfuls of his shirt, your knuckles brushing his collarbone at the motion. He reacted to this by putting his free hand on the other side of your face. It was a little awkward, both of you on your sides facing each other. Trying to utilize both arms while you both were simultaneously lying on one of them. It was hard to think, to form a single coherent thought, this was actually happening.

You broke the kiss to laugh quietly, both at the awkwardness of the position and the fact this was really happening, but he was not about to let you leave yet. His hand that was in your hair tightened and pulled your head closer again. He was greedy with your mouth, exploring it like he would never be able to again. You could feel his heartbeat under your clenched fists, it was completely erratic.

When he finally broke the kiss himself, it was only because he was in dire need of air. Lightheaded, his mouth parted as he panted, quickly trying to regain oxygen. You shared in his need, your eyes un-focusing slightly from the strain of your mutual exercise.

“Woah.” You wanted to slap yourself. That was all you could think to say? You weren’t sure where to start, what to say, what to admit to. What did this mean?

Rex didn’t respond, immediately shifting forward slightly to return to you, but you pushed him back lightly, your hands splayed across his chest, you still hadn’t caught your breath. He immediately nods.

“You’re right, we should stop.”

You respond to his words with an incredulous smile, going to sit up. His head tilted upwards to follow you at the motion, and his fingers trailed over your shoulder down your arm. “And why is that, Rex?”

He sits up too, his back fleshed with the headboard. “Because I really want to kiss you.”

You wanted to tease him, pretend that this wasn’t a huge deal, play it cool. But honestly, your heart was racing. “What is so wrong with that?” You tried to return to your usual banter to the best of your abilities, but you were already leaning slightly towards him.

He lets out a small sigh, his eyes were only on your lips, in the scarce light you could see a dusting of pink coloring over his cheekbones. He honestly doesn’t look capable of forming a cohesive thought, which made you feel a bit better about how cloudy your own head was. He ran a shaky hand up over the back of his neck. “Because I really want to kiss you…” He repeats, “ And I don’t think I want it to stop there.” He admitted softly.

Oh.

You blinked a few times, a subtle pricking rising from the back of your spine. Excitement.

He looked like he was actually at war with himself, the most pathetic look you had ever seen on his face, his eyes staring off in another direction. And just like that you were scooting closer, your knees brushing against his thigh. His gaze darts to you as you internally debate what to say. Maybe it would be simpler to stop here. Go sleep on the couch, leave him alone on the bed. But that was never going to be a real option at this point. Not after the dancing, fighting, longing.

You rise up slightly, lifting your leg that’s closest to him and placing it between his thighs so you can be closer. His eyes quietly watch you, and once you have situated yourself your gaze returns to him. “I want you to kiss me.” You say definitively, biting the inside of your lip. “If that’s okay with you.” You add, wincing slightly.

“Yeah?” For a moment you see his familiar cocky side, a small grin appearing on his face. But you know, especially now, how much of a show it is. You’re convinced if you put your hand to his chest, you’d be able to feel just how anxious he is. You just couldn’t figure out why. He was not one to be shy, Rae had told you plenty about his past excursions with Duplikate and he dated Eve for years. Why was this different?

“Yeah.” You say, leaning in towards him, but his lips don’t meet yours. Instead, his hand is traveling up your back to the nape of your neck, gently tilting your head to the side. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him kiss your neck, trailing them up towards your jaw. His other hand is grabbing your hip, pulling you closer to him. The friction of his leg between yours drew out a breath from you. You can feel him smiling against your neck, his hand is moving up to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting against your bare skin underneath it. “Fuck-” you breathe, his fingertips sending chills up your side.

This seems to have some kind of effect on him because now he is tilting your head down and forcing his way into your mouth. He’s sloppy like he cannot decide what he wants to do. No move feels precalculated.

Your hand comes up to the side of his neck, mirroring the move he had been doing when he first kissed you. Instantly his hand that was on your hip is clasped over yours on his neck. He pulls away for a painful second just to mutter “Don’t.”

“Why?” You pant as he shifts back to kissing your neck, making his way to the tendon where it connects to your shoulder.

“You’re making me lose focus.” He says against your skin. You let out a soft noise as you feel his teeth lightly graze you. His hand is still wrapped around yours, his thumb trailing over your knuckles. The hand that was around the nape of your neck traversed down your spine to the small of your back, pushing firmly against you.

A ringing sound fills the room. Your phone. Immediately you groan, turning your gaze to the table on your side of the bed. You shift to see if it’s important, but Rex is not making it easy for you, immediately his hands are both on your hips trying to hold you in place, still lying open mouth kisses on you, now he’s hovering over your collarbone.

“At least let me turn it off.” You laugh, your hand coming up to lightly pull him off of you. He grumbles against your skin but loosens his grip, letting you quickly crawl over to turn it off.

One Missed Call: Cecil Stedman

Shit. You ran a hand through your hair; this was more than likely important. And you could not think of many people you wanted to talk to less at this exact moment.

A light flashed across the screen as you powered it off. Something you could live to regret later. You turned and shuffled across the bed back to Rex, who was watching you with a love-drunk gaze. You put your hand to the side of his face and leaned in giving him a chased kiss before settling in back on top of him again. His hands were immediately at the bottom of your shirt, you could feel he was moments away from ridding you of it.

“Dammit!” You said with frustration as your phone started to ring again. How did Cecil do that?

“It’s Cecil, isn’t it?” Rex sighed, his head making a soft clunking nose as he rested it against the headboard behind him.

You looked over at the phone and then back at Rex. He looked so perfectly disheveled. His eyes unfocused, lips parted, kiss swollen, and a tantalizing heat radiating off him. But you both knew if you ignored Cecil much longer, he was going to just teleport into the room.

“Yes.” You admitted, running a hand over his chest.

“Typical.” Rex snorts, obviously feeling as frustrated as you are.

You don’t know what to do. Cecil was only calling your phone, which meant you had to leave Rex here. No idea when or if you’d be back before morning. You go to get off Rex and he grabs you, his eyes quietly pleading with you.

“Please.” It’s such a simple word, but it sounds so pretty when he says it. He was making this as hard for you as possible, and you had a feeling he knew it.

“I don’t think you want Cecil to show up in the room any more than I do.” You whisper, leaning forward and pressing what was meant to be a quick chaste kiss to his lips. But it quickly devolves into much more. Resulting in you having to break away and practically hopping off the bed.

“You don’t need to use Cecil as an excuse to turn me down you know.” He gives you a smirk, he would seem unbothered if his body language didn’t completely betray every level of uncertainty he was feeling. Rex Splode was nervous. It made you smile. If you thought you would be able to escape another kiss you would have given him another one now. But after having to pry his hands off of you from the last one you figured it would be safer to stay off the bed.

“I’m not turning you down, Rex.” You reaffirm, if you had more time, you’d spill about how badly you’d wanted this, and for how long. Tell him about how your mind was reeling, and part of you wondered if this was a dream. And then you’d explain why you had to be sure after the last dream you had about him. You grab your phone and pull on your spare pair of shoes. “Who knows, this might be nothing…” You knew the chances of that were so minuscule there was no point even hoping. Cecil was too no-nonsense of a guy to just call to chat.

“Next time I see you,” Rex starts, uncertainty lacing his voice, “We’ll talk?”

You hesitated; your hand already grasped around the doorknob. There was nothing in this instant that you wanted more and less. It was starting to dawn on you that this was a turning point, your weeks of visiting him in the hospital felt so long ago now. This felt complicated and messy. You just made out with someone who’s basically a glorified coworker. Well, that’s an unfair way to put it, he was a friend at least now, right? Maybe soon to be more- you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

“We will, Sloane.” You smile at him and leave the room before your able to change your mind.

“You’ve got to answer your phone when I call.” Cecil’s voice cuts through the dark of the hallway, making you jolt.

“God, you could at least announce yourself or something.”

“I just did.” Without another beat passing he starts debriefing. “We just caught something on the satellites, moving fast.”

“Okay? Why are you telling me? You’ve got all of the other Guardians who could deal with that-”

“We’ve only seen that kind of trajectory and flight pattern twice before.”

You stand in silence, folding your arms across your chest. “The suspense is killing me.” It’s dry, subtle sarcasm displaying completely your distaste at being bothered.

“Once with Invincible, and the other time with Omni-man.” You cocked your head slightly.

“It’s a Viltrumite?”

“All answers point to...”

“Shit.” You murmured.

“Shit, is right.”

Author's note:

Rex: If I kiss you, we’ll end up kissing on the couch, and if we end up kissing on the couch chances are we’ll kiss in the bedroom and if we kiss in the bedroom then you know, that’s the part I always rush into. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to rush into spending the night together.

Reader: I want to spend the night together

Rex: I have no problem with that.

Also this image I made to haunt my friend after I let her read a draft of this chapter

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @mightymeick @k1nky-fool request to be tagged for new parts!

chapter twenty-one

#rex splode x reader #enemies to lovers #slow burn #crawling back to you rexfic #rex splode #invincible season 3 #invincible rex splode #rex sloan #rex sloan x reader #no beta we die like rex splode apparently #invincible #100k #over 100k #invincible fic #rex x you #rex x reader #one bed trope

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femmesport · 2 days ago

Text

Almost Something - Chapter Two

warnings: none besides language i suppose?? an: this is a bit jumpy, but i am just trying to set the pacing and build up the characters and friendships a bit. i have really appreciated all the love y'all have been showing this fic!! also, i literally needed amari to be in this fic so thanks for allowing me that 😭 wc: 3k

Merely a drink. That was all Paige had last night, and yet she woke up feeling like she had been hit by a freight train or two. Her head was pounding and her eyes were red rimmed with a disgusting dryness. A heavy nausea lingered in the back of her throat.

Paige was wholly and unequivocally fucked. Like harboring potential feelings for the one person she shouldn’t level of fucked.

Paige sighed and pushed herself out of bed as if her body weighed a ton. She barely was able to push her glasses up her face and winced as she truly was able to take a look around her mess of a room.

Walking out into the living room, Paige heard muffled conversations around the table. Upon her emergence, her friends stopped talking and their eyes settled on her in the sympathetic way that made her skin crawl.

“Good morning,” Paige headed to the cabinet grabbing cereal, “what time are you guys heading to practice?”

“P,” Caroline started and Paige couldn’t have that.

“I was thinking of heading out right after breakfast,” Paige hurried through pouring her cereal and adding milk.

“P,” this time it was Aubrey and far more firm, “sit down.”

Aubrey’s eyes point to the chair sitting across from them.

Paige sighed and brought her things to the seat slouching down and hoping for the floor to swallow her whole. She could do a lot of things but having her friends stare at her as if she were a fragile thing was not on that list.

“Listen, you can lie to yourself, you can lie to her, but clearly things are not getting better. You need an outlet, you need to tell us what is going on” Caroline explains in a firm yet soft tone.

Paige’s eyes drop to her bowl and the tears have found their way to her eyes again.

“I don’t know when it happened” Paige whispers out and her voice is so weak that she winces at the sound.

“I don’t know when I started feeling this way, or when she started meaning that much to me” Paige put her elbows on the table and pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes trying to hide.

“P,” Amari starts softly, “is it possible that it has always been that way?” Paige winces and lets out a sound that sounded an awful lot like a sob.

“I don’t know.. I don’t know” Paige whispers her voice laced thickly with raw wet emotion.

“I feel like the world’s worst friend, I am sitting here crying and hurt because my best friend is going out and trying things to experience happiness” Paige voices her feelings and Aubrey sighs at that.

“P, you know it is not like that. You are okay with her finding happiness but you can also want your own” Caroline offers gently.

The pity and gentleness of their tones rattles Paige to her core. Her stone walls are quickly falling apart.

“Listen, I just don’t want anyone to look at me differently or treat me like I am some delicate thing on the verge of breaking” Paige lifts her head and her eyes are red rimmed and filled with a bone deep exhaustion.

“You’re not different or on the verge of breaking” Caroline replies, “we’re just worried.”

“I know and it is unfair of me to hate that when I would be doing the exact same, but damn” Paige’s eyes attempt to convey the feelings that she can’t say.

The room is silent and her friends search her face for any kind of a sign that there was more that she would say. When they came across nothing, they did what they did best. They did normal.

“I have classes until noon,” Amari says, looking down at her watch.

Caroline nods and then directs her attention back to her breakfast. “We can leave for practice in thirty minutes, Aubrey and I were going to walk together. Want to join?” Paige nods and lets the world continue on around her.

Her morning remained relatively silent. The kind of silence that is heavy and loaded, but the silence no one is addressing.

By the time they left for practice, the trio had only managed a few words and acknowledgements.

The silence around her was far more soothing than her brain which seemed to get louder and more unbearable by the time they walked into the locker rooms. The silence around her was shattered by the boisterous laughter and chatter that was filled by her teammates.

Paige tried to join in. She tried laughing with her teammates and joining in on meaningless conversations. She wanted so badly for everything to be and feel normal.

And, to her credit, it did work for a bit. That was all shattered as Azzi, her best friend, entered the locker room.

Paige had made eye contact and Azzi simply smiled before heading in her direction. Normal was only so possible when forced proximity was the reality.

Paige had shot up from her seat at her locker. She tried to be normal when muttering something about stretches and shooting practice, but her voice sounded off to her ears and her teammates' eyes lingered a moment too long.

Azzi frowned but nodded while the rest of their teammates continued on.

Paige joined a few of the underclassmen on the court for their stretches before grabbing a ball. The ball felt like lead in her hands and her body felt disoriented. Paige had been known for her ball control and having a strong shot. Today, she noted, this would not be the case. Every touch on the ball was off, her hands lingered in the wrong spots, her feet would land off and a moment late.

More teammates were joining the court and Paige’s frustration was growing. Not doing well was one thing. Not doing well and letting everyone see it, well that was an entirely different beast.

Paige tried one more shot that simply hit the rim and rode around before falling to the side. She sighed and stepped off the court and towards her water bottle.

“My shot is shit today” she groans and she slouches into the chair beside KK.

“P Boogers has an off day,” KK smirks looking in Paige’s direction, “who knew it was possible?”

Paige huffs a laugh and looks up seeing Azzi across the court. Her shots were beautiful. The way she handled the ball and the grace she held was much like watching a performance. She was graceful and appeared weightless on her feet.

Azzi looked over after making a shot and just smiled brightly at Paige. Paige tried to smile in return, but her breath had caught and she is sure she looked more pained than anything else.

The moment is short lived before the team is being called over in groups to split off and run through drills. The intensity that comes with practice allowed Paige to breathe without the insistent hum of her brian working over time.

The first drill allowed Paige to take a step back. She focused on her mindset and getting better footwork to make up for her struggling handles. Her efforts were clean and tight. It was almost impossible to notice anything wrong. Almost.

The next drill required her and Azzi to work together. Paige was fine. Really. Well, she was fine.

She was fine until she made eye contact with Azzi. Azzi had her normal game face that was calm, fierce, and wholly unpredictable. Paige tried feeding the ball up to her, but the ball landed slightly left of where she intended.

The touch wasn’t right for the play she had intended. Azzi noticed. She smiled reassuringly at Paige and they tried running it again.

This time, the ball went too far forward, and it was quickly turned over. Paige huffed out in frustration, but still, Azzi smiled. Though this time it was slightly strained.

The third time was by far the worst. The ball landed close enough to Azzi, but not with enough space for her to have a clean shot. Azzi quickly turned to pass the ball to Paige, and Paige was able to get a hand on it and turn it over to Sarah who was able to shoot.

“Thank God” Paige groans. This drill had been messy and she was feeling the frustration of it all.

“P, you good?” Azzi stepped up to ask with a concerned expression that showed she was just as frustrated, “you normally have a pretty good read on me, but that was all over the place.”

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but the idea that she didn’t have a good read on Azzi served no purpose except further upsetting Paige. “You were never making it down far enough” Paige sighs out deflecting.

Azzi’s face fell at that. “I am not the one with consistent turn overs here, let’s clean it up.” She walked away and Paige groaned out again.

Geno had called her over and she didn’t have time to linger on what Azzi was saying.

“Paige, what the hell was that?” he grits out, hands flailing in the direction of the court, “you two have some of the best chemistry, and now you guys can’t even complete a simple pass?”

Paige felt his frustration tenfold. She kept her head down but nodded with tight features.

She had shut down and gone cold. Sensing he was getting nowhere, Geno goes into a monologue about completing beginner level passes without heads up your asses.

The rest of practice passed in a cold blur. Her handles were inconsistent, her footwork was messy, and her passes to Azzi had lost their touch.

Paige knew everyone had noticed. She knew Coach was watching her with a hardened expression and jaw tight, certainly planning an hour long film review. She knew Azzi had noticed and was just as frustrated.

When everyone began shuffling out of practice, Paige was the first to the locker room. When she was asked about recovery, she was quick to brush it off with promises of next time. Instead, she gathered her things, shoved on headphones, and headed out.

She still had about an hour before her first class, but if she sat still she would think. Even worse, she might do. So instead, she blared music in her headphones and walked to campus to grab some shitty food to focus on instead of staying in her head.

Campus normally had shitty food, but when you were suffering at the hands of your own mind, there was nothing that would be as awful as you felt. Paige knew this all too well.

As she was eating her low-quality food and trying to think about anything else, her phone buzzed.

Azzi: Hey, are we good?

Paige pauses. Her fingers hover over her phone. For once, she has lost all words for Azzi. How would she explain this at all?

Her brain runs through a million possible responses.

Yeah, we’re good. Why wouldn’t we be?

It is just me.

No.

I am going through it.

Instead, Paige sighs and locks her phone. She has nothing to say that wouldn’t lead to bigger conversations that she wasn’t ready to have.

Paige shifts her focus to finishing her shitty lunch and making her way to some communications class she signed up for at Azzi’s insistence that it was the best professor ever, seriously.

Class left Paige feeling just as drained. She spent most of the time berating herself in her head for not being able to focus. Her notes were disorganized jumbles with terminology she is pretty sure Azzi used.

They had been assigned a paper and Paige missed all of the instructions. As she packed up all she could do was hope it would be sent out in an email later.

She headed out of her class and failed to consider that Azzi knew her schedule and was also likely to have classes in this building. Immediately outside of the door waiting for her was Azzi.

“P,” she says firmly as Paige steps outside of the door and sighs upon hearing her name, she pauses but doesn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“P,” Azzi tries again, wrapping her hand around Paige’s elbow trying to capture her attention.

Paige’s whole body tenses up. She pauses for a second and takes a deep breath before turning around.

“Hey Az,” she says with a forced smile, “what’s up?”

Azzi frowns, “you’ve been ignoring me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Paige sighs, “I’ve just been stressed with school, training, and draft prep stuff. We’re good” Paige says with as calming of a smile as she could manage. It wasn’t fooling Azzi.

“Look, you’re my best friend. I know you’re lying to me right now” Azzi sighs and Paige swears she sees her eyes gloss over, “but also, you’re my best friend. I need to trust that you will tell me if something is truly wrong.”

Paige tries to smile reassuringly at Azzi, but her heart breaks. She doesn’t mean to be pushing her away or letting her think that it’s her fault. She doesn’t mean to lie or avoid. She just cannot handle any of this right now.

“I will tell you,” Paige says softly with a smile. Azzi returns the gesture and drops her hand from Paige’s arm.

“Hey, team hangout tonight” Azzi says with a bright smile after a moment of silence and Paige cannot help but smile in return.

“You guys planning hangouts without me again?” Paige grins at Azzi who lets out a genuine low chuckle.

Paige’s heart sputters at the noise.

“You would be included in making the plans if you would start opening upperclassmen group chat again” Azzi jokes leaning in to bump Paige’s shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, yeah” Paige laughs and then more sincerely, “I’ll be there.”

Azzi smiles at Paige so softly that she couldn’t help but melt a little bit, “see you, P.”

Azzi wraps her arms around her best friend’s middle. Paige’s heart stops for a second and she freezes with her arms laying flat at her sides. Her hands quickly catch up to the moment and wrap around Azzi’s shoulders.

In the hug, she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Before the team hangout, Paige decided to join Jana, KK, and Ice at the library for a study session. She had been in her head for so long now, that she had been neglecting her friendships and studies.

“Well, look who decided we were lucky enough to be graced with her presence” Ice smirks, looking up from her work and KK gasps dramatically with Jana joining in.

“Yeah, yeah. Here to put the student in student athlete or whatever” Paige jokes putting her book bag around the chair and grabbing out her computer.

“You’re better than I am,” Jana groans looking at her computer.

Paige does spend some time working through an assignment. At least she tried. But her mind wouldn’t stop wandering.

She couldn’t stop thinking about dark curls, brown eyes, and a smile that made her melt. It was honestly kind of ridiculous. She couldn’t last more than a few minutes without thinking about Azzi.

Suddenly she was thinking of every quiet moment between practices, every shared hotel room and the hushed moments of the night. She couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who has occupied her every waking thought for the past few months and her sudden interest in Tyler.

Paige almost groans at that mere thought of his name.

After a few minutes of flat faced staring at a blank document, Paige snapped out of it and looked around to her teammates. She noticed that all of them were too engrossed in their work to notice her struggle.

She flips her phone over and sees no notifications, but knows she needs a break.

“Hey, I have a missed call. I’ll be right back” she stands up and the other three vaguely acknowledge her before returning to their work.

She finds a quiet room and opens her contacts. She finds who she is looking for and clicks the call button waiting through only a few moments of ringing.

“Hey Paigey,” the soft voices flowed through the speaker on her phone, “what’s up?”

Paige hears her dad vaguely say something to a coworker and then a door shutting on the other end.

“Hey, dad. I just wanted to call and chat, miss you” Paige explains gently and she hears her dad chuckle a little bit on the other end.

“Are you going soft on your old man?” her dad jokes and Paige just laughs, “we miss you too.”

“How is your training going?” he asks and Paige shifts into a more comfortable subject. She shares the strengths of the team and excitement based on the results of their previous games.

Her dad fell into comfortable conversation. He shared some observations he saw from watching the previous game. Paige was always grateful for the feedback and support of her family.

“You know who I am really excited to see this season?” he asks suddenly with a lot of excitement. Paige just hums.

“Azzi” her heart speeds up at the girl’s name, “she has been playing really well. It’s like she has something to prove. She’s going to kick some ass this season!”

At this point, Paige begins floating away from the conversation. Her concentration shifts and she can only think about what her dad said.

It’s like she has something to prove.

Right now, the only person Azzi is trying to impress is Tyler. Paige cannot handle the fact that if Azzi is playing really well or is trying to impress someone, it is likely the very guy whose name makes Paige’s skin crawl.

Refusing to entertain that thought any longer, Paige settles back into a normal rhythm with her father. They discuss upcoming games and breaks and try to work out times to come visit.

The call ends, as it usually does, with promises to keep in touch.

The end of the call allowed Paige a few moments to try calming her heart. She missed her family and would normally turn to Azzi in times like these. She knew this wasn’t possible in her current mindset.

Instead, she took a deep breath through her nose, tried blinking away the emotions, and headed back inside to the library. She would not let this distract her from the things that mattered most.

Please repost, like, and leave your feedback! Thank you!!! <33

-- tea ★’*•.¸♡

#pazzi fic #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic #uconn wbb fic #pazzi fics #tea writing femme fics #paige x azzi #wcbb fic #paige bueckers angst #pazzi angst #azzi fudd angst

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wrldhoon · 2 days ago

Text

I LIKE ME BETTER𑁤 y.jw

┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗ LOVE SONGS — JUNGWON’S ENTRY

PAIRING. jungwon ༝ reader

WORD COUNT. 4.5k

GENRE. college au ⋆ fluff ⋆ crack

WARNINGS. mentions of alcohol, reader gets wasted, tiny innuendo but nothing crazy

note: not super sure if i like this or not, but it's too cute not to share. first part of my mini series is complete!! i hope you guys enjoy ♡ they're so cute in this i want to die.

TAGS. @ilyunjina

college parties were never really your thing, but a consequence of being best friends with yunjin, the jennifer huh, was that she was going to drag you to one every. single. weekend.

every night, somehow always at exactly eight o’clock, she would barge into your room with that mischievous grin on her face. she would tear your drawers apart, looking for an outfit she deemed fit. occasionally, she would throw out a complaint about how lackluster your closet was. as her best friend, you knew telling her ‘no’ was useless. every attempt you made to convince her to let you rot away alone at home was of no use.

“you look so hot,” she squealed, watching from your bed as you applied the finishing touches of your makeup. she was already dolled up from head to toe, sporting a plain white tube top and ripped blue jeans, her leather jacket laid out beside her. an item she always brought in case it got too cold.

you wore a similar outfit—a black cropped tank and cargo pants, pairing it with a knitted white bolero and sneakers. it was simple, but comfortable. you sprayed an ungodly amount of setting spray onto your face, ensuring that you will not fall victim to frat house makeup tonight.

your desk was full of soju bottles, courtesy of your lovely roommate, and you watched as she reached for a half opened one. “this is gonna be so much fun! heeseung and jay are hosting tonight, which means unlimited booze and the place is gonna be full of eye candy. maybe you’ll get lucky tonight,” yunjin teased, taking another (comedically large) sip of her drink.

you rolled your eyes, but she didn’t miss the quiet chuckle you let out. you reached for a bottle, “definitely not on my bucket list tonight, but i fully support you if that’s what you’re after.” the sweet peach flavor went down easy, filling your chest with a warmth that was reserved for nights out on the weekend.

yunjin responded with a shrug, downing the rest of it in one go. your phone dinged, lighting up with a message notification.

jake (australian)

im here 😋 lets GOOOOOOOO

with a snicker, you quickly typed a response before shoving your phone in your back pocket. “jake’s here,” at your words, yunjin cheered happily before running out of your room to put on her shoes. you quickly fixed your hair before grabbing your bag, filling it up with whatever you might need for the night. lipstick, hand sanitizer, deodorant, power bank, and a pack of tissues.

perfect.

you followed yunjin out of the apartment, meaningless conversation filling the elevator as you headed for the lobby. once you made it outside, you immediately spotted jake’s car. he was filthy rich, and his car alone could probably pay off all of your current bills and grad school tuition.

you slid into the passenger side, the smell of clean leather and cologne filling your senses. you reached over the middle console to give him a hug, his hair brushing against your cheek.

you and jake have been close friends since you started university. you met in your freshman year physics class, bonding over math formulas that didn’t make any sense to you (it still doesn’t), but always seemed to make sense to him. he became your tutor for the remainder of that semester, answering your 3:00am facetime calls just to see you crashing out over another assignment without complaining. since then, you were inseparable.

“whaddup,” yunjin said cooly, dapping up the boy from the back seat. “are you guys ready to drink?” jake sang, his engine roaring to life as he put his car in drive. you let out a soft huff, hand placed over your stomach.

“she fed me enough soju to kill a bull,” the drink provided a slight buzz, and you silently thanked whatever holy being above decided to bless you with a high tolerance to alcohol. your comment earned a hearty laugh from jake while yunjin simply smiled at you, her elbows up against the console as she peered between the two of you. “it isn’t a successful pregame unless you leave juuust a little bit drunk. it’s a pregame for a reason. preparing for the game that is the DAE frat house.”

the rest of the drive was quiet, aside from the sensual rnb playing softly from his car speakers. you watched as the university campus came into view, a short ten minute drive from your shared apartment with yunjin.

there were other students roaming the streets—some returning from their friday night classes and others laughing a little too loud, clearly drunk, and headed to another party. jake parked along the street, turning on his emergency brake and turning off the car with a twist of his key. he stepped out, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

you thanked him with a soft smile, yunjin immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you to the front door. the three of you walked in, loud party music booming through the house and lights turned to a deep purple color. it was warm and smelled like sweat and spilled vodka.

lovely.

you squeezed through the crowd with yunjin pulling you along and jake trailing from behind. you stopped once you reached the kitchen, a loud squeal catching your attention. “you’re here!!” a short brunette came running up, throwing her arms around yunjin’s neck. “chaewon! oh god, you reek of alc.”

the girl giggled, swatting aimlessly at yunjin’s arm. her eyes landed on you, widening in pure glee before she took hold of your arms, pulling you into her own. you let out a shocked ‘oh’, your hands hovering awkwardly over her back. “you must be y/nnie. you’re so pretty.. and you smell good. like.. flowers and happiness,” she slurred, nose buried in your hair.

yunjin cupped her mouth to suppress a laugh while jake watched in amusement. “thank.. you?” you gently pried her off of you, hands on her shoulders to stabilize her. “alright, let’s get you some water.” yunjin chimed in before whisking the girl away, mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ to you as she searched for a clean cup.

“well, she seems cool,” jake chirped, eyes darting from her wobbly figure to your own. “drinks?” you gave him a curt nod, turning towards the counter to scan the endless amount of options before you. vodka, soju, beer, whiskey—you could throw up just looking at it.

you settled on a quick shot of cheap vodka, while jake made himself a mixed drink. he was driving tonight, so he couldn’t allow himself to get wasted.

a few of your friends began flooding the kitchen, greeting one another with cheery ‘hellos’ and offers to take more shots. jay and heeseung soon joined in, dapping up jake with red solo cups in hand. “y/n, you made it!” jay cheered, raising his voice to be heard over ‘beauty and a beat’ by justin bieber that vibrated the walls. he gave you a quick side hug before shaking his cup gently in your direction, a subtle invitation for another drink. you nodded at him, turning your head just in time to lock eyes with heeseung.

“hi pretty,” he wore his signature smile, arms wrapping around your shoulders. you could smell the lingering traces of alcohol in his breath, arm splayed over his waist as you returned the hug. “thanks for hosting tonight.” you pulled away, taking the shot glass from between jay’s fingers and downing it in one go. the boy whooped from beside you before taking one himself.

“you can thank us by drinking~” heeseung sang, filling up his cup for the nth time tonight.

free alcohol is free alcohol, right?

thirty minutes later, you were seven shots deep and leaning drunkenly against the kitchen counter, elbows propped up behind you. jake stood beside you, talking animatedly with heeseung about fifa.

“dude, ni-ki, you’re like… ridiculously tall. you look like a giraffe,” the younger boy raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips. “thanks, dude. i think?”

“you’re so welcome, dude.”

your head throbbed and the room looked like it was spinning. you reached for the cup behind you, grabbing the luke warm brita off the counter and filling it up. you pressed it to your lips, chugging it like your life depended on it. placing it down, your head turned out of instinct as you heard another round of cheers from your friends.

a boy had walked in, greeting everyone with a bright and pretty smile. he had soft blonde hair that caught underneath the dim lighting of the kitchen, pretty cat-like eyes, and a devastatingly adorable dimple on his left cheek.

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol—no, it definitely wasn’t—he was just gorgeous.

and totally out of your league.

that didn’t stop you though.

“holy shit, you’re so hot.” it came out before you could help it, all of your friends’ heads snapping in your direction in shock. the blonde gawked at you in disbelief before his expression turned into one of amusement, “oh! thank you.. and you definitely aren’t wasted, right?” his tone was teasing, his cheek sinking in slightly as he chewed on it.

you let out a drunken giggle, your head moving side to side. “i don’t even like alcohol..” your hand swatted at the air, elbow slipping off of the counter. jake grabbed your arm, holding you up to prevent you from falling straight onto the kitchen floor.

“jungwon, y/n—y/n, jungwon. not sure if you’ll remember tomorrow though,” jay said, earning chuckles from the other guys. jungwon simply shook his head, smile still evident on his face. he quickly joined in on the drinks, grabbing a cup and mixing up his own concoction.

conversations blurred together, shot glasses clinking, bottles steadily draining.

you didn’t even realize yunjin had disappeared until jake leaned in and asked if you’d seen her. somewhere in the background, you caught sunghoon mentioning her name—something about chaewon, but it was fuzzy. the alcohol was definitely hitting you now, warmth spreading through your body, cheeks flushed, and eyes heavy-lidded.

eventually, you slipped away to get some air. the heat was unbearable, and the packed crowd and blaring music only made it worse—you needed space.

you found an empty pool chair in the backyard and dropped into it with a heavy sigh, letting yourself sink back. a shadow cast over you, and as your eyes adjusted, there he was—the familiar hot blonde from earlier, “you alright?”

“just sleepy. and hot. really hot,” you whined, hands tugging at your bolero to pull it off. jungwon chuckled, crouching down beside you. “do you wanna go home?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

so fucking cute.

yeah, it wasn’t the alcohol.

“not with you, pervert.”

jungwon swore his ears were on fire. his eyes widened so big they might as well pop out of their sockets. he cleared his throat, eyes unable to look at your sleepy figure any longer without feeling bashful, “n-not like that! i meant do you want me to drive you home? like, to your own house. and i leave you there. inside. alone. and i will go to my respective home.”

“oh! yes please,” you dragged on the last syllable, hands pressed against the cool fabric of the chair to push yourself into an upright position. “where’s jakey? he drove me. will he be mad?” your lower lip jutted outwards, a small pout on your face.

“i don’t think he’ll be mad. let me go ask him, okay? don’t go anywhere,” jungwon patted your shoulder before standing, stepping back inside to find your best friend.

a few minutes later, the two boys came back outside to find you fast asleep. they exchanged knowing glances before jake spoke up, “are you cool with taking her back to her apartment? i’m helping sunoo try to wrestle heeseung out of his smelly party clothes and into his pajamas. plus, i still have no fucking clue where yunjin is,” the last part came out a bit strained, annoyance at his missing friend bubbling to the surface.

jungwon let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to slap jake’s back. “yeah, i’ll take her. just send me her address,” with that he approached you, dozed off and snoring just a little bit, and scooped you up in his arms. they walked out to his car, jake popping the passenger door open and helping him carefully ease you inside.

once you were secure, they closed the door and bid each other goodbye. jungwon hopped into the driver’s seat, turning on the car and setting the heater on low. once he got your address from jake, he clicked on the link and began the venture to your apartment. occasionally, he would glance over to check if you had woken up.

nothing.

your lips were slightly parted, head pressed up against the window as you slept peacefully. a grin made its way to his face, knowing you’d definitely face a nasty hangover tomorrow.

he pulled up to your apartment complex, parking his car before getting out to help you inside. when he reached to unbuckle you, you let out a sleepy whine. “c’mon, y/n, i need to get you home.” his words were soft, arms moving underneath your knees and back to pull you out. your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brighter lights of the street lamps.

“oh my god, hot guy. am i still dreaming?” your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes opening and closing at the slowest pace known to man. jungwon grinned, eyes trained on the path in front of him as he walked with you into your building. “nope, definitely not dreaming. hot guy is carrying you home.”

“i knew it. pervert..”

“not like that!”

a few weeks after your first meeting, you two quickly became good friends. he began hanging out with the group more often, simply to see you.

he knew he could’ve just asked you to hang out alone, without prying eyes and teasing comments, but he was scared. it was obvious you were at the least attracted to him, hence the ‘hot guy’ nickname your friends still haven’t let go of. when he finally mustered up the courage (courtesy of jay who threatened to ask you out if jungwon didn’t grow the balls to do so himself) to pop the question, you happily agreed.

score—you managed to bag hot guy.

three months later, you and jungwon had made your relationship official. not a single person in your friend group was surprised at the new relationship.

it just made sense. you were two halves of one whole.

you couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment it happened—when the way you felt about him started shifting into something deeper, something a little heavier.

something more like love.

of course, you liked him. he wouldn’t be your boyfriend otherwise, but your liking started to twist painfully in your chest, ready to explode at any given moment.

it wasn’t sudden, more like a slow unraveling—but there were signs.

the first time was when the two of you decided to spend the night in at his apartment. the sun had already set, the faint glow of city lights shining through the large windows. you were sat on his couch, scrolling away on your phone as he stood in the kitchen. he stared at the inside of his fridge—milk, a carton of eggs, a few sauce bottles, and a pack of soju.

“babe, i think we should order in,” you looked up from your phone, catching a glimpse of his defeated expression before searching for the delivery app on your phone. “we really should go to the store. we have… like, nothing.”

jungwon sat down on the couch beside you, his side pressed up against your own as he watched you browse through dinner options, “are you craving anything?” you questioned, your free hand landing on his leg to fidget with the extra pockets decorating his pants.

jungwon bit his lip, thinking quietly. “maybe pizza? ooo, or chinese. we can get those noodles you like—oh! or we can get wings? i heard about this crazy deal the other day from jake…” you watched silently as he rambled on, eyes sparkly and hands moving in an animated manner that made your heart squeeze painfully in adoration. he did that a lot.

jungwon, realizing you hadn’t spoken, turned to face you. he blinked, his eyebrows furrowing cutely as you continued to watch him with a stupid little smile on your face, “what?” he quipped, starting to wonder if the hunger was starting to make you crazy. “is there something on my face?”

you shook your head, “nothing. you’re just cute.”

jungwon sat, stunned at your sudden compliment before he grinned, wide enough to make your own cheeks hurt just from looking at it. he threw his arms around you, peppering kisses on your face as you shouted in protest.

it was clear he thought the same thing about you, too.

the second time was when you went out to shop for groceries. yunjin had complained about the lack of snacks in the house, so you took the opportunity to drag jungwon along with you. he was very helpful, aside from when he would get distracted by every little thing that caught his attention.

“babe, look,” you heard from behind you, turning your head to see what your boyfriend was preoccupied with this time. “turtle chips. do you think they taste like turtle?”

you raised an eyebrow at his sudden question, staring in amusement (and a little something that resembled reconsideration of your whole relationship) as he smelled the bag.

the outside of the bag.

strange guy.

“i think it’s just ‘cause of the mascot, won.”

“you never know these days..”

you laughed as he tilted his head, lips pursed and brows lifted slightly before putting the bag down. he gently nudged to you the side with a bump of his hip, pushing the cart as you marched ahead.

he watched as you read off the grocery list, placing things into the cart. he sported a little smile, studying you with gentle eyes. being here with you, shopping for more snacks than real groceries, felt so domestic.

so natural.

it tugged a little at his heartstrings, warmth blooming in his chest.

it was in these quiet, everyday moments that he took the time to really admire you, picking apart the minor details that just made you so… you.

the way you chewed your lip when making decisions, the crease between your brows forming when you couldn’t find whatever you were searching for, the way you blew your hair out of your face when a strand of it fell in front of your eyes.

his mind and his heart were so full of you, and he hoped that would never change.

“jungwon, are you even listening?” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, shaking his head a little as if forgetting where he was. “um, yeah! definitely.”

you gave him a blank stare, one that he returned with a sheepish smile, “no… sorry?”

you let out a groan before turning around and sauntering off, stomping away like an angry child. he chased after you, the shopping cart bumping into one of the aisles with a loud crash that made you cringe.

”w-wait! babe, i’m listening! for real now!”

the third time was when you were all hanging out at sunoo and riki’s apartment. everyone sat in a circle in the living room, an array of random snacks and drinks littered across the coffee table and floor. sunoo was in the middle of a very dramatic rendition of how he embarrassed himself in front of the group of freshmen he was in charge of during orientation week. laughter flooded the apartment, a feeling of peace settling into your body as you followed along with whatever he was talking about.

“i didn’t even see him coming!” jake bursted into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, doubling over and collapsing into jungwon’s lap who was sat next to him, clapping his hands loudly. you swore you could see tears prick at the corner of his eyes from how hard he was cracking up.

you excused yourself to the bathroom, earning a little nod from your friends before they continued their extremely hilarious conversation. you took the time to clean yourself up, wiping away at the smudged mascara that appeared as a result of your evening with your friends.

a few minutes passed before you stepped out, turning off the lights with a soft click of the switch. as you made your way back, you paused in the hallway when you heard your name come out of your boyfriend’s mouth. you stood around the corner, listening in on their conversation.

“oh my god, it was so funny. y/n came out of her room with this HUGE blue wig on her head. i think i peed myself a little,” jungwon said, his hands moving in that animated manner as if to show just how big your wig was.

“hate to break it to you, but that was my idea. i told her a homer and marge couple costume would be cute. i wasn’t wrong.” yunjin chimed in, failing to hold in the laugh that came spilling out. jungwon stood up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at his friend, “SO IT WAS YOUR FAULT I HAD TO WEAR A BALD CAP!”

at this point everyone had laid across the floor, rolling over and slapping the person next to them in amusement. “at least y/n looked good! couldn’t fit through the door though. head was too big,” you pressed your fingers to your lips at heeseung’s joke, trying your best not to reveal yourself from where you were hiding.

you remember the moment like it was yesterday. it was a fond one, a story you shared often with your friends.

jungwon rolled his eyes. he sat down with a loud sigh, turning his head with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest, “she’s always pretty. but next time, she’s getting the bald cap,” you smiled at his comment, leaning against the wall as you watched him fondly. when he opened his eyes, they locked with yours. they widened in surprise before he returned the smile, the dimple on his cheek that you loved kissing appearing with it.

you walked back over to your seat, squeezing yourself in between jungwon and riki, “i am never wearing a bald cap, thank you very much. that’s all you. for the rest of your life. until you actually start going bald too. then, you won’t need one!”

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

you stared at the photobook in your hands, fingers tracing the edges of each polaroid that sat snugly between the pages. you made it a tradition to snap a photo every time you hung out, a way to preserve your memories forever in colored ink.

one from the party you first met at, another from the pool party you and yunjin hosted last summer, one from your camping trip, and others—all of them serving as a reminder of the joy you experienced with jungwon and your friends from the past year.

you closed the book gently, the soft smile never leaving your face. the gentle hum of music played out of the speaker tucked into the corner of jungwon’s living room.

you heard it—the first song he ever sent to you through text, a little ‘this made me think of you’ message following shortly after. the apartment smelled like warm sugar and the lingering traces of his cologne, a scent you began to consider home.

jungwon was in the kitchen, probably making breakfast like he always did. he knew how you took your coffee by heart, never failing to wake you up with it each morning with a sleepy grin on his face. you placed the book next to your phone, lighting up with a notification from yunjin declaring yet another group hang out you simply could not afford to miss.

you stood up from the couch, your fluffy house slippers padding against the floor as you walked over to jungwon.

leaning against the kitchen island, you stared at his messy morning hair and broad back, clad in the loose t-shirt he woke up in. he turned around with a smile on his face, one that never failed to appear every time he saw you, “hi, angel. what were you up to?”

you returned the gesture, happily taking your favorite mug out of his hands, “i was just looking through our photos. we should buy more film soon, by the way.” jungwon hummed in response, hands moving to plate your food.

“we can over the weekend,” he replied, sliding it in front of you before pressing a long kiss to your forehead. the smell of sweet, buttery pancakes and bacon filled your senses. you noticed the strawberries that were cut up into little hearts that sat neatly off to the side.

just how you liked them.

“i’m gonna go change. yunjin will actually skin me alive if we’re late again,” he grumbled before disappearing into his bedroom.

you watched him walk away, his golden locks bouncing with each step. you let out a quiet laugh, picking up your fork and digging in.

it wasn’t difficult to understand, then.

somewhere along the way, ‘i’ started turning into ‘we’.

his hand started to fit in yours like it was always meant to be there. your mornings were often spent together rather than separately—much to yunjin’s dismay, who swore he had completely stolen you away from her.

your chest ached, but not in a painful way. it was the kind of ache that comes with realizing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—right here with him by your side.

because he never said “i love you” like it was something he owned. rather, he meant it like something you had built—together.

jungwon didn’t just love you.

he included you.

in his life, in every word he spoke, every story he shared, and every moment he lived.

you realized you liked yourself more when you were apart of something—something soft, but heavy with meaning and purpose.

something, or someone, like yang jungwon.

jungwon who turned ‘we’ into something more than just a simple word.

jungwon who loved you delicately, but still passionate in his own way, who assured you from the very beginning that he was all in.

he introduced you to a type of love that was soft and easy, but it was one that meant everything.

to put it simply, you liked yourself better when you were with him.

you always had, and you always will.

“y/n, have you seen my sweater? if riki took it again, i swear i’m about to go full jackie chan on that kid,” his voice called from down the hall, sharp and exasperated.

a sudden thud made you flinch, followed by a muffled yelp and the clatter of hangers shifting in his closet.

then, a beat later—slightly winded, definitely bruised ego.

“i’m fine! totally fine... ow.”

yeah, always.

fin.

#wrldhoon love songs #enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon drabbles #jungwon fluff #jungwon scenarios #enhypen series #jungwon soft hours

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thecowboyfiles · 2 days ago

Note

Could you write Bob Reynolds x transmasc reader pls? Like rough, but they both have control at some point. Also a little dysphoria comfort is always sweet. Tysm!!! Also i got recommended you by undying decay and your writing is so good obbsessiivley reading it now

Ahhhh I love mae so much and I'm so grateful to her for recommending me 🥰 I also loved this request and I hope you do too! Please come back and request more ❤️ Also, I have memberships now if you wanna check them out 💕 Cw for the use of the word "pussy" and "Cunt" to describe transmale genitalia.

₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

📂 Current File: ▼ ▶ Relinquish.mp3

ⓘ Robert Reynolds x Transmasc Reader

It’s not unusual for things to get rough with you and Robby. Both of you needed to feel in control, You— because it helped ease the dysphoria and made you feel more ‘manly’ even if that was a bit cliche and he seemed to need it because his life had been out of control for so long that being in control in the bedroom gave him some sort of peace.

It always starts off slow; the tower is empty. You and Robert had been laying on your bed, making out for who knows how long, tongues slowly pushing in and out of each others mouths, biting and licking at each other’s lips, a lighter fight for dominance. Then, someone always takes control. Today, it was Robert.

He pulls away from you abruptly, like he’s got some sort of wild idea that just pinged his brain and for a second you think it might have nothing to do with you and he’s going to jump up out of the bed and abandon you for a sudden burst of inspiration and motivation to do something to help the team. It wouldn’t be the first time, but this time, his eyes tracked you up and down and an evil, greedy smirk spread out over his lips before he straddled your hips and pinned your wrists to the bed. “You’re mine tonight, sweetheart,” He smirks, tightening his hands when you make a show of squirming underneath him and whining softly.

“If I’m yours, then you better take me,” You smirk up at him, biting at your bottom lip.

You didn’t know how long the two of you had been making out for, but you could feel Robert hard against your hip and your own boxers had been soaked for quite a while. You push up lightly, lifting your hips up off the bed and into his body, but he only tightens his grip, you’re sure you’re going to have five perfect, finger shaped bruises around your wrists tomorrow.

“You keep demanding things like that, and I’ll have to tie you up,” He threatens. You both know he would never, at least not unless you had talked about it before, it would take away too much of your control, but the threat of it still makes your cunt throb.

Robert takes a minute to lean down and grind his hard cock into you and give a needy whine but then it’s right back to control when he lets go of your wrists to shed you of your pants and boxers, then him of his own. With him preoccupied, you could move and take the control now, but you don’t, not yet, not when it was so obvious.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Robby,” You say in a hushed tone, watching him roll the condom onto his hard, leaking, cock.

“Don’t I always?” His smirk gives away that it’s not a real question, he knows that he does. “I’ll take care of you, sunshine, don’t you worry about that.” With the condom on, he leans back over your body and presses his lips to yours, a too soft gesture for what was about to happen.

Robert runs his hands down every inch of your chest and torso before he squeezes one of your thighs and hikes your right leg up on your shoulder. He gives you no warning before he pushes into you, punctuated with a loud moan. “Do you know how good you feel, baby? How tight and warm? Can’t fucking take it, and your perfect cunt is all mine,”

“Fuck, move, Robby.” You groan, stretched around his cock and desperate for the pleasure you knew was coming.

“Awfully bossy for a little boy who's on the bottom aren't you?" Robert smirks from above you, blonde hair falling into his face, but he's too preoccupied to push it back.

This was your moment. You wrap your legs around Robert's waist and push up with all your strength and flip the both of you over so you were straddling him with his cock still buried deep inside of you. "Now, who's on the bottom, little boy," you can't help but spit his words back at him while you grind down against him, hard and fast.

"Ah shit, oh fuck" Rob groans out, gasping in surprise, and whining as you speed up even more, this time, you lean down and press you lips into his, sinking your teeth into his lower lip and pulling.

"You wanna take control? You want this tight, wet, pussy to be all yours, Robby?" You smirk wickedly. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that." You knew what he could do, the kind of strength he had, and you both knew what you were really asking. The first time Robert had used his super strength in bed, he didn't have it quite so under control and you ended up needing a new bed.

Robert is still beneath you, whining and whimpering pathetically, half heartedly trying to push up further into you, but those works have his eyes popping open and shining up at you. The next time you're both flipped, it takes your breath away. The sheer speed and force at which you go from being above Robert to below him is dizzying and there's no chance to catch your breath as he pounds into you. All you can do is grasp desperately to his back, leaving raised red marks from your nails and just hope you aren't loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

Robert had made sure you came three times before he even came once and despite how tired and worn out you were, you never passed out before you two had a chance to hold each other close and talk. "Does it bother you when we use words like that?" Robert asks softly after a long stretch of silence and just soaking each other in.

"Words like what? You ask tilting your head slightly to look up at him.

"Y'know... like cunt and pussy and stuff."

You take a moment to think about it but then shake your head gently. "No, not really. Maybe if someone else used them, but I know how you see me." You smile softly.

"Oh yeah? And how do I see you, pretty boy?"

"Exactly like that," You grin, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds smut #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds smut #bob reynolds fanfic #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #marvel #new avengers #thunderbolts*#mcu #sentry #thunderbolts fanfic #bob reynolds #the sentry

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and-claudia · 8 hours ago

Text

Bound by Winter (Spencer Agnew x fem! Reader) Part 9

Word count: 5100+

Warnings: Periods, mentions of blood, mentions of past conception?? (that is such an odd way to say that...), battle strategies, sword fighting

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I was still curled beneath the thick furs, buried into Spencer’s side, half-asleep and too warm to care about the outside world. His breathing was steady beneath my cheek, one arm lazily thrown around my back. The cat—Jack—was wedged like a furry stone at our feet, purring in his sleep.

It should have been perfect. But something felt… off. A cramp twisted in my lower belly, familiar and unmistakable. I froze. Oh no. Very carefully, I wriggled free from Spencer’s arm and shifted to sit up. The movement made everything worse—the ache, the heat, the awful sinking realization that I had miscounted the days. Badly. I winced and glanced down, already dreading what I might see. His trousers. I was still wearing them. And now they were— “Seven hells,” I whispered, horrified. Spencer stirred behind me. “What?” “Nothing,” I said quickly, reaching for the blankets to cover myself. “I—it’s fine. I just—uhm—” He sat up, blinking away sleep, hair sticking out in every direction. “Did you hurt yourself?” “No!” I squeaked, cheeks already burning. “I just— I got my moons. I didn’t realize it would be today, and I… I was still wearing your clothes, and—Spencer, I’m so sorry.” He blinked again. Then looked at me. Then down at the trousers. And then—he smiled. “…That’s it?” I stared at him, mortified. “What do you mean that’s it?” “I thought Jack threw up in my boots.” He leaned back against the pillows with a groan, one hand running over his face. “You scared me.” “Spencer,” I hissed, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself. “I bled in your clothes.” “So? It’s blood. Everyone bleeds. Some people just do it more politely than others.” I buried my face in my hands. “That’s not funny.” “I wasn’t trying to be funny. You don’t have to apologize.” His voice gentled, eyes softening as he looked at me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You live here. You’re allowed to bleed on my clothes. Or my floors. Or my boots—though preferably not the boots.”

Despite myself, a laugh bubbled up. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned. “Takes one to marry one.”

He nudged my knee under the blanket. “Go change. I’ll toss the trousers in the laundry and see if Maester Tommy still has that tea he gave you last time. Or I could just make you some of that terrible bitter stuff you hate.”

“I... would like that,” I admitted quietly. “Thank you.”

He gave me a small, genuine smile. “It’s just blood, sweetheart. I’ve seen it enough on the battlefield. Doesn’t scare me. You certainly don’t.”

And somehow, that made everything a little less embarrassing.

I went to the washroom and found some of the monthly cloths I kept in there for emergencies. I got changed, and when I came out, stained pants in hand, Spencer took them without a word and added them to the rest of the dirty laundry. He was partly dressed now.

“I have a few things I need to take care of, might as well get them done now. Go lie back down for a bit, I’ll have your tea brought to you soon. You’re welcome to steal another pair of pants, just try to keep these ones clean.” He teased before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I had laid back in bed until a servant came with my tea, then I moved to sit in Spencer’s chair closer to the hearth. I was curled into it, thickly wrapped in my robe, hands cradling a cup of Maester Tommy’s awful moon tea. It still tasted like over-steeped bark, but at least it was warm.

Angela burst in first, arms laden with folded linens, followed closely by Arasha carrying a little tray of food from the kitchens.

“I brought more cloths,” Angela announced. “Even the thick ones we keep locked away like precious treasure.”

She set them down on the, then paused. I turned in my chair to see her standing there, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait. You’re only three weeks since the last— You're early.”

“Believe me, I noticed,” I muttered, leaning my head against the chair back.

Arasha set the balm on the table and exchanged a look with Angela. “You’re always like clockwork. Did you overexert yesterday? Too much ale during the game?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Caught me by surprise. Completely. Woke up wearing Spencer’s trousers and—well... it hit.”

Angela blinked. “You mean you—?”

“Bled straight through his pants,” I said flatly, lifting the cup to my lips. “While wearing them.”

For half a second, they both froze.

Then:

“Oh nooo,” Angela gasped, covering her mouth, eyes wide.

Arasha winced. “Seven hells. What did he do?”

I hesitated, a little smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. “He told me it was fine. Said it was just blood, and everyone bleeds. Then offered to go find me the awful tea.”

Angela blinked again. “He what?”

I shrugged.

“You bled in his trousers and he made you tea?”

“Well. He threatened to make tea. It was more about the gesture.”

Arasha sat down hard on the footstool. “Most men gag if you even mention your moons.”

“Exactly!” Angela threw her hands up. “I once sneezed near a guard at Seastar Hold while I was on my time, and he accused me of trying to curse him. And Spencer just... didn’t care?”

“He said—and I quote—‘you live here, you’re allowed to bleed on my clothes.’”

Angela melted into the bedding. “Oh gods. That’s it. He’s perfect. Disgusting, sarcastic, emotionally stunted—but perfect.”

Arasha nodded solemnly. “He’ll make a fine father one day.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” I said quickly, face warming. “He’ll hear you through the walls and panic.”

Angela chuckled. “You’re already wearing his clothes, bleeding in them, and stealing his bed space. At this point, he’s doomed.”

“Don’t remind me.”

But as they chattered and bickered about whether they should knit me a moon cushion or steal me better tea, I leaned back into the chair and smiled—because for once, the ache in my belly didn’t feel so heavy, and neither did the weight of the day.

Minutes passed by as Arasha and Angela continued talking back and forth.

Angela was halfway through mimicking Spencer’s voice with a dramatic flourish—“‘You live here, you’re allowed to bleed on my clothes,’” she said in a deep, brooding tone, waving a hand in the air like a bard in a tavern.

“That’s not what I sound like,” came a very real voice from the doorway.

All three of us froze.

Spencer stood there, one brow raised, a roll of parchment in his hand, his snow-damp cloak dripping just slightly on the stone floor. Behind him, poor Maester Tommy trailed with a sheepish smile and a satchel of gods-know-what. Probably more disgusting tea.

“Maker’s mercy,” Arasha muttered under her breath.

Angela opened her mouth to speak—then closed it again, unsure whether to apologize or double down.

“I was just—” she started but fumbled trying to explain herself.

Spencer walked fully into the room, set the parchment on the table beside my tea, and looked at me. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” I said, still clutching the warm mug like a lifeline.

He nodded once, then glanced at Angela. “For the record, I don’t sound like that. And if you want to reenact me, get the sarcasm right.”

Angela blinked. “You’re... not upset?”

He shrugged. “You’re making her laugh, and she’s not curled up in pain or crying, so... no.”

That stunned all of us into silence for a beat.

Then Spencer smirked, reached out to steal a honey biscuit off the tray that Arasha brought in with her, and added, “Also, I checked. Those were my least favorite pair of pants.”

He left the room before any of us could respond.

Angela turned to me, wide-eyed. “He is doomed.”

By early afternoon, the keep had gone quiet again. Angela and Arasha had been called away to help with something in the kitchen, and the fire crackled low in the hearth. I’d changed into one of my warmer nightgowns, Spencer’s thickest tunic draped over it, sleeves nearly swallowing my hands.

I had braved the cold corridors and now sat in mine and Spencer’s private solar. My legs were curled beneath me on the cushioned window bench, the open pages of a worn book in my lap.

The book had been titled “On the Lives and Lineages of the Northern Houses”, but it read more like a gossip log disguised as history. I flipped a page, sipping lukewarm tea, and then paused at a particularly blunt paragraph:

“It is noted that Caerwatch Keep, due to the severity of its winters, sees a significant rise in conception rates between the third and fifth month of the cold season, often attributed to the long nights, thick furs, and lack of diversion.”

I raised a brow. “Lack of diversion,” I repeated aloud. “Interesting way to say ‘snowed in and bored.’”

Further down the page, scribbled in a different hand, was an old margin note:

Eight children born within the same month in 181 AC. Seven were sons. Coincidence?

I snorted and flipped another page.

There was more here, though—something about Caerwatch predating some of the known northern keeps, once rumored to be an old Watch fortress before it was given to the Agnews. There were passing references to "The Thorn Pact" and “The Winter Accord,” both underlined, but without much elaboration.

I made a mental note to ask Spencer—when he wasn't busy pulling ravens out of the snow or arguing with Damien about firewood distribution.

Just as I leaned forward to squint at a faded family tree carved into the parchment, a low voice spoke behind me:

“Do I want to know why you’re blushing while reading about birth records?”

I turned and found Spencer standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a faint smirk playing at his lips. His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed from the cold, and his cloak smelled of woodsmoke and winter air.

I held up the book. “Did you know most children here are conceived during winter?”

He walked over, eyeing the text. “Not surprising. Everyone’s trapped inside for months, the walls are thick, and the ale supply doesn’t run out until at least month five.”

I tilted my head. “Is that how the Agnews kept their bloodline strong? Strategic snowstorms?”

Spencer laughed under his breath, crouching beside the bench. “Probably. We’re not known for our diplomacy.”

I tapped a line in the margins. “What’s ‘The Thorn Pact’? It doesn’t explain it here.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Old history. Very old. I don’t even think Maester Tommy’s read that far yet.”

“But you know?”

His silence confirmed it.

“Carewatch wasn’t always just a noble house, was it?” I asked quietly.

“No,” he said finally. “But that’s a tale best saved for stormier nights.”

I grinned. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a stall tactic,” he replied. “But I’ll find the records. Or tell you myself—if you pour me a cup of whatever you’ve been hoarding in here.”

“Well, right now that would be what’s left of my tea, but that’s just about gone cold… but I do believe there’s a flagon of wine over there on table,” I said, nodding over at it.

He went over and poured himself a glass before coming to sit beside me. I leaned against his side, the pages of the heavy book now open across both our laps. Snow swirled furiously beyond the window, a white curtain over the valley.

My fingers traced the faded ink of some long-forgotten house—extinct now, according to the handwritten note in the margin.

“Here,” Spencer murmured, flipping forward a few more pages. “House Agnew.”

I sat up a little straighter as the familiar name stretched in blocky calligraphy across the top of the right-hand page. The first half listed a long line of Lords, each neatly dated and annotated with their deeds, alliances, and heirs.

Spencer’s name was near the bottom.

“Lord Spencer Thorne Agnew, born to Lord Varris Agnew and Lady Norra of House Crowmere. Wed to—” he paused, and I leaned in closer.

“Wed to Lady YN,” I read aloud, then smiled at the elegant rendering of my name, carefully inked in a newer hand. The date of our wedding followed, but the rest of the line remained blank.

“For now,” Spencer added. “Just us.”

I studied the page, fingers brushing over the empty space beside our names. Then, in a half-laugh, I said, “We should add Jack.”

He looked at me.

“Our first child,” I added, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Spencer raised a brow. “The cat?”

“He’s warm, he’s loud, he likes to sleep on your side of the bed. That’s practically our son.”

Spencer snorted. “If we start adding pets, this page’ll be filled before we ever have a child with our nose.”

I gasped. “You think he has my nose?”

“I think he has my attitude,” Spencer replied dryly. “Which is worse.”

I swatted his arm with a grin, and he caught my wrist, holding it between us for a moment.

There was something about the weight of the book, the fire, the silence of the snowstorm around the Keep—it made everything feel settled. Still. Safe. I found myself glancing back down at the open page, that clean stretch of parchment waiting to be filled.

“I wonder what this will look like in a hundred years,” I said softly. “If someone else finds this book.”

Spencer’s gaze shifted, too, his expression unreadable but not unfeeling. “Hopefully still warm. Still guarded.”

“Still loved,” I added.

He didn't say anything, just rested his arm behind me again and let me curl back into his side. The fire crackled, the snow blew harder against the windows, and somewhere deep in the Keep, Jack the cat yowled for attention.

Spencer sighed. “Your son is calling.”

I laughed against his shoulder, and neither of us moved for a long while.

Jack yowled again, louder this time. Then came the soft sound of claws scrabbling against the solar door. Spencer groaned.

“I swear he can sense peace and ruin it on purpose.”

“Your attitude, like you said,” I replied, smirking.

He rose reluctantly, muttering under his breath as he opened the heavy door—only for Jack to slink in like royalty, tail high and snowflakes still clinging to his fur. Without hesitation, the cat padded straight for the hearth and leapt into my lap, circling once before settling across the book like he owned it.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer muttered. “Trained soldier and he’s still outranked by a cat.”

I was laughing too hard to answer right away, especially as Jack blinked slowly at Spencer with smug contentment, clearly victorious.

Then Spencer looked down at the open page again—our page—and cocked his head.

“You know what?” he said, settling back down beside me and reaching into the side pocket of his coat. He produced a charcoal stylus, the kind the Maester left around the keep for annotating books and lists.

“What are you doing?” I asked, amused but also a little alarmed.

“Leaving our mark.” He carefully leaned over the page, stylus poised, and in the blank space just beneath our names, in smaller script than the official scribe’s, he wrote:

-and Jack, their first son, bane of peace, hoarder of warmth.

I burst out laughing. “Spencer!”

He grinned, dotting the end of the sentence with an exaggerated flourish. “Future generations deserve to know the truth.”

“You do realize Maester Tommy is going to find this, right?”

“That’s the goal.”

As if summoned, Jack let out a pleased little prrrr and nuzzled my arm.

“Well, if he’s going in the record, I suppose we’ll have to train him to sit still for a portrait,” I said.

“Oh, I’d pay good coin to watch you try.”

We laughed until our sides hurt, and Jack stretched between us like he’d accomplished something grand.

Somewhere far off, the blizzard howled through the mountains, but in the firelit solar, history was being… mildly vandalized—with affection.

Soon, we migrated back to our chambers as the storm raged on outside. The wind outside howled like a creature denied its meal, sharp and relentless against the stone walls. Snow lashed the high windows, and the fire in the hearth crackled low, casting flickering light across the bed where Spencer and I lay tangled in silence, sharing the warmth beneath furs and wool.

I shifted slightly, curled on my side, watching him as he stared toward the darkened ceiling. His hand rested on my hip, fingers lightly brushing through the linen of his own shirt, which I’d stolen again. The silence wasn’t heavy—it was thoughtful. And familiar. We’d grown comfortable like this, especially during these long winter nights.

“I know you said you’d save it for a stormier night, but I can’t sleep, will you tell about it?” I said quietly, breaking the hush. “About the Thorn Pact.”

I waited. Spencer didn’t rush stories. He never spoke unless he had something worth saying. When he did, it was sharp, and it stayed with you.

Eventually, he shifted onto his back, arm tucked behind his head.

“The Thorn Pact is older than our house name. Before we were Agnew, we were just the Watch,” he began, his voice low and even. “Back when the North was fractured and monsters still wandered into men’s halls.”

My brows lifted. “Monsters?”

He nodded slowly. “Not dragons or demons. Men. Raiders from the Frostfens. The Lost Clans. Maybe even things worse. But Caerwatch wasn’t always a keep. It was a signal tower. Just one of several across the mountain valley. We were the last outpost before the edge of the known lands.”

I listened, curled closer.

“They say the men posted here began marking their skin to tell their story—every kill, every vow, every betrayal. When they broke from the high kings of the Reach and chose to defend this land on their own, they sealed it in blood. The Thorn Pact. Each man swore to watch the valley. To never run. To never let darkness pass through unseen.”

I thought of his tattoos. Of the thorns curled behind his left shoulder. The one I hadn’t seen until after our first night together. The one I had yet to ask about. The one he never explained.

“It wasn’t a noble name back then. Just men too stubborn to flee. Men who buried their dead with stone markers carved like thorns, so they wouldn’t be forgotten.”

I swallowed. “And your house carries that vow?”

Spencer’s jaw flexed, and he finally looked at me.

“We don’t speak of it to outsiders. Most of the North forgets. But the Agnews still mark our dead with a thorn.” He hesitated, then said, quieter still, “And the ones who’ve earned it carve the vow into skin. Like the Watch before us.”

I reached for his hand beneath the blankets. Found it, cold but steady.

“And what’s the vow?” I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment, firelight catching in his eyes.

“Hold fast. Guard the pass. Bleed before the gate breaks.”

Silence stretched again, this time heavier. Not from discomfort—but from understanding.

He hadn’t just inherited a keep. He’d inherited a duty.

I let my head rest against his shoulder. “That’s why you stayed,” I said softly. “Even when it would’ve been easier to leave.”

His arm came around me, pulling me closer.

“That’s why I stay now,” he said. “Thorns don’t bloom. But they hold the line.”

And there, in the storm-battered stillness of Caerwatch, I realized I was married not just to a man—but to the last vow of something ancient and unyielding.

And it made me love him all the more.

The next morning, it was barely past breakfast when Spencer came to find me, still half-dressed from his early training session, boots caked in frost and hair damp with snowmelt. The training yard had been cleared just enough to run drills in.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he said, voice calm but eyes bright with purpose.

I set my cup down, curious. “Oh? A secret chamber?” I teased.

“No,” he smirked. “Not unless you count the one where all my secrets are spread across a very large carved table.”

That earned a raised brow from me. “Should I be worried?”

He didn’t answer, just gestured for me to follow. I picked up my cup of tea and took one last sip before standing up and following him out of the room.

He led me down the winding western stairs, through a corridor I hadn’t spent much time in yet — colder, quieter, its sconces unlit and its stone lined with ancient shields and weathered maps framed in thick glass. At the end of the hall, he pushed open a tall set of oak doors with iron studs, and I stepped into a vast room that took my breath away.

The War Room.

A large, oval-shaped table dominated the center — carved entirely from dark wood, but inlaid with ridged stone and metalwork to resemble the landscape of Virelia itself. Mountains reared up near the north, river valleys snaked through the center, and cities and strongholds were marked by carved pieces that could be moved across the map.

It was stunning. Imposing. Alive in a way only something steeped in blood and memory could be.

“Gods,” I murmured, stepping forward, fingers brushing along the etched coastline. “I’ve never seen one this detailed.”

Spencer watched me from across the table, one hip braced against the edge. “Few are. This room belonged to my grandfather. He had it carved during the last years of the Great Frost. It’s only used when the Lords of Caerwatch lead their forces themselves.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze. “Why bring me here?”

His expression softened slightly, but there was still steel behind his voice. “Because I want to know what you’d do.”

He motioned to the board. Small carved figurines had already been arranged — tiny northern banners near the top edge of the table, marked for Rhett’s and Link’s encampments, and a third banner I recognized as Spencer’s own, set a short distance from theirs. The south, meanwhile, was littered with red and black pieces — the enemies’ forces, thick and clustered like storm clouds.

“I’ll give you the numbers. You give me your plans.”

I blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

He gave a half shrug. “You’re on the war council, aren’t you?”

Warmth flared somewhere beneath my ribs. He wasn’t humoring me. He meant it.

He started with the first scenario:

“There are rumors of an advance column moving north along the eastern rivers,” Spencer said, moving the red pieces accordingly. “They’d likely try to avoid open terrain and circle behind Rhett’s camp. If they time it with a storm, we could lose visibility for days.”

I studied the map, chewing my lip. “I’d move archers here—” I pointed to a ridge just west of the river crossing. “High enough to see movement. If we give them barrels of pitch and oil, they could light the brush on fire if the enemy tries to pass.”

Spencer’s brows rose.

“And place scouts here and here,” I added, tapping two side routes. “Keep them on horseback. Short-range signaling only.”

He gave a short whistle. “Using fire as a barrier rather than a weapon. Clever.”

I shrugged. “My uncle used it in the Stormwake siege years ago. Worked well enough to make the enemies flee uphill into waiting swords.”

He nodded, then reached over the table and slid several enemy pieces forward. “Say they get bold. Try to break through the mountain pass before the melt. Their thinking would be: We’re caught off guard. Resources are thin. They want to force our hand.”

“Which would be stupid,” I muttered, already moving Spencer’s banner and a few of Link’s. “But not impossible.”

“I want to know how you’d hold them.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said simply.

Spencer tilted his head. “You’d… let them in?”

“Let them think they’ve pushed through,” I clarified. “Then pull your front forces back slowly, like they’re retreating. Lure them into the pass itself. Then close in from both sides.”

He stared at me.

“And archers,” I said, tapping the snowy ledges above the pass. “This high? They’d rain hell down.”

He exhaled. “Remind me to never cross you.”

I smiled to myself, knowing that I must have been doing well with my suggested strategies.

But the feeling was fleeting as I watched Spencer. His face grew serious as he moved red pieces closer to the North.

“This one’s worst-case,” he said. “If the enemy gets as far as Caerwatch during the spring melt. Say they bring siege towers and siege fire.”

I swallowed. “That close?”

“It’s happened before.”

I leaned over the table, eyeing the walls and towers etched into the carving. “You move civilians down into the undercellars immediately. Then, triple patrols along the inner wall. You position your heaviest archers on the south tower because the wind here—” I pointed to the ridge— “will carry their fire higher. And you flood the valley gate basin.”

Spencer blinked. “Flood it?”

“You said it yourself—it’s sloped.” I pointed again. “Divert meltwater through the old aqueducts. Flood the approach. It slows siege towers and chokes cavalry.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then finally:

“You knew about the aqueducts?”

I smiled faintly. “I asked Maester Tommy about the drainage lines two weeks ago. Just in case.”

He laughed—low, genuine, impressed.

“I have to say…” he said, looking back at the board. “You’ve got the mind of a commander. And the archers—your strategy with them—it’s sharp. No wonder your uncle’s men have a reputation.”

I felt heat in my cheeks, but didn’t look away. “You’re not so bad at this yourself, Lord Agnew.”

He smirked, shaking his head.

“We’ll continue this throughout winter, as I hear from your father and your uncle’s scouts. Different scenarios the enemies may attempt come spring. This way, gods on our side, we’ll be ready.” He said after a moment, and I nodded.

“I have to go, there are some squires I’m training soon.” He said.

I nodded once again, mind wandering off to what I was going to do with the rest of my morning.

“Care to join me? We can run some drills before they arrive?” He asked, raising a brow at me.

I blinked, glancing down at myself—heavy boots, fitted pants beneath my winter cloak. Not exactly dressed for sparring.

“I haven’t had nearly enough training,” I replied, stepping down from the stairs.

“You’ve had enough for me to go easy on you,” he said. “And if I remember correctly, you were complaining the other day about being sore and miserable.”

“That’s not exactly what I said—”

“Close enough,” he cut in with a small smirk. “Come on. A little blood and bruising does wonders for cramps. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh really? And where did you hear that?” I asked, following him out of the war room.

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, I’m getting you to spar with me, aren’t I?”

I smiled and shook my head, and allowed him to lead me out to the training yard.

“Don’t hold back just because I’m—” I began once we arrived.

“Your husband?” he offered, raising an eyebrow. “Or because you look beautiful even when your nose is red and you’re bundled in half your wardrobe?”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. “Because I’m new at this.”

He grinned. “Noted.”

We circled each other once, boots crunching in the frost-bitten snow, and I could already feel the thrill prickling through my chest. He moved slower than he normally would, but not slow enough to insult me.

Our swords clashed once. Then twice. I adjusted my stance like Courtney had taught me—balance in my legs, blade close to my body—but Spencer was fast. He knocked my sword back with little effort, his gaze tracking every movement, like he was memorizing it.

“You’re dropping your left shoulder,” he said softly. “Gives me an easy opening to sweep you.”

“Noted,” I muttered, squaring up again.

We clashed once more, a longer flurry this time. When our swords locked together, I glanced up at him quickly—then deliberately tilted my head and smiled. “Is this close enough for a kiss?”

He blinked.

And I struck. Just a quick, off-balance twist of my wrist that knocked his sword out of alignment and gave me an opening to land a tap on his ribs.

He stumbled back with a laugh. “That was cheap.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“Then it wasn’t cheap. It was smart.”

He tossed his head back, still laughing, then lunged toward me without warning. This time he didn’t go easy.

We danced through three more passes before he finally had me. His sword slid beneath mine, knocked it clean from my hands, and I found myself spun around with a firm arm braced against my back to keep me from slipping in the snow.

“Yield?” he asked, voice low near my ear.

I huffed, breathless and flushed. “Fine. You win.”

He let me go, retrieving my sword from the snow and brushing it off before handing it back to me with a grin that had more pride than gloating.

“Better,” he said, voice gentler now. “Much better. That twist? Caught me off guard.”

“I told you I was paying attention during my lessons.”

“You were. But I think I’m going to need to keep sparring with you, just to be sure you’re not collecting other husbands’ tricks.”

I snorted. “Don’t tempt me.”

We stood together a while longer, my breathing beginning to slow. The flush of exertion had done something to ease the ache I’d woken with that morning—not just physical, but the heavy, dragging sort that winter often brought with it.

“You were holding back, weren’t you?” I asked.

He hesitated. “A little.”

“I’m not fragile, Spencer.”

“I know.” He turned to face me more fully. “I know you’re not. But you’re still new to this. And I—” He trailed off for a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I offered to spar before I remembered how much I hate the idea of hitting you. Even on accident.”

I looked up at him, quiet for a breath. “I’ve been hit before. Lady Courtney has bruised my shoulder so many times it’s basically part of my coat lining.”

“Still.”

I nudged him. “I want to learn. And I want to learn from you. You’re better at this than anyone I know.”

He didn’t respond right away—just nodded slowly and reached for my wrist, gently adjusting the grip of my hand around the wooden hilt.

“Then I’ll teach you,” he said softly. “Every move I know. Every trick I’ve learned. You’ll be better than half the men here by spring.”

“And the other half?”

He smiled faintly. “They’ll have to learn not to underestimate Lady Agnew.”

A/n: I know you lot are thirsty for another smut fic... do not fret my horny friends, one is coming (pun intended) part 11 will be smut!! Also for those curious, work started and is going well (can you tell I wrote this one after my period started and needed to project?? TEEHEE, anyways like I said work is going good, I am working a lot of hours (above part time even though I am only part time) because I am getting my training done (its a soap store so there's a lot of liability stuff and recipes to train me on) plus it is a manager position (idk how I walked into this position tbh but its exciting!!) so there's extra stuff to train me on. I got to make bathbombs yesterday, which was fun, and only 2 out of my 33 broke!! So pretty good!!

Taglist: @fan-g0rl, @spennininomenon @mazzyowl @burrowedinnature77 @apollothegod22 @scratch-and-sniff-ghost33 @areyoutheregoditsmecelia @cloverrwritess @readerihardlyknowher @lovergurl4life @goblynnrockz @ahhhiscute @happyclifford @jellysmosh @talkativecarnation @ladybugonfilm @teenyfinds @chamomiletea11 @hot-dino-nuggies

#smosh fic #smosh spencer #smosh fanfiction #smosh games #smosh #spencer agnew #spencer agnew fanfic #spencer agnew x reader #game of thrones au #bound by winter #spencer agnew x reader smut #spencer agnew smut

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svnscape · 6 hours ago

Text

epilogue: i hate u i love u

the whole house was quiet. jaemin’s snores were abnormally loud and even louder during summertime, even with the air-conditioning on, which meant haechan’s hopes of sleeping tonight were completely ruined.

summer vacation, before a whole new beginning for everyone, had just kickstarted but haechan couldn’t find the tiniest bit of joy to fully immerse himself into it, even if he was currently sleeping in a multimillionaire’s house, on a beyond comfortable mattress with the air conditioning on full blast.

he just couldn’t.

plus the fact that it was impossible for him to sleep off his thoughts, as jaemin’s snores grew even louder, made haechan groan and jump off the bed to head to another room.

chenle had given him full access to a ginormous room where haechan conveniently put all of his stuff in, in case he couldn’t sleep or wanted more peace.

even if he doesn’t act like it, chenle was very observant and caring towards all of his friends and recently, especially to haechan as he noticed the shifts in his behavior ever since all of them graduated.

he knew he was going through it, immensely, and the only way he could cheer him up was by shutting up and giving him the peace and quiet he needed sometimes.

so that is where haechan heads off to, his footsteps barely audible on this very shiny floor, as he made his way towards the end of the hall.

it was very quiet and smelled like expensive lavender, if that was even a thing.

he genuinely loved this room and its huge and bouncy duvet, as haechan spent most of his time here, listening to music and looking at your instagram account.

yes he was very much stalking you and he would rather die than have his friends find out about this new hyperfixation.

but tonight he had different plans as he finally eyes that small black and very worn out object sitting on top of his laptop.

mark’s usb.

i mean it was about time he finds out what’s in it and get it over with and he was obviously not enjoying this vacation, so whatever that usb holds, it had no hopes of ruining his already very monotonous and rotting summer.

so he sits down on the desk and plugs that usb in, without a second thought.

he just wanted it to be over.

but that usb had other plans as it took forever to load its files onto haechan’s computer, making him close his eyes and sigh in despair.

nothing about mark came on easy and it was genuinely making him loose his mind.

but then finally, the 3 files had loaded and haechan’s heartbeat spiked.

why the hell was he nervous?

he eyes them for a good ten minutes before he finally decided to open the first one, on the left of the screen, that was named “read first”

he clicks on it to find a small and simple untitled word file.

so he clicks again.

hey! it’s your markie. sorry you already know that. i’m nervous typing this out when you’re literally a hallway away from me. it’s 4am and you looked exhausted today so i’m guessing you’re sound asleep. i can’t sleep though.

anyways i’m sorry if this was corny or uncomfortable. i’m sure you’re wondering why the hell did i leave you a usb hahah. you probably called me old too, i know you very well hae.

but yeah, other than this file you’ll find two other ones, one named haechan and the other named tunes. open them both.

the haechan file has all the demos we recorded almost three years ago. yeah i kept them and i listened to them almost everyday. it also has demos i recorded later on and thought they’d only sound good with your voice in them. i don’t know if you’ll like them or even listen to them but please consider them as an apology. i would love for you to grace them with your voice haechan.

the tunes file has all of my unreleased songs. i’m still waiting for the approval of my label but there’s one song i’ve been waiting to release — i hate u i love u. i don’t care if my label says yes or no but i need your approval first. i’m sorry but it’s a song about you and it’ll mean the whole universe to me if you’d listen to it and tell me if i can release it, i won’t do it without your approval.

please let me know, please.

before you close this file, please let me say;

hae… i’m sorry for everything. i was scared because i felt myself feel too deeply about you and i had to choose between you, my career and another person who i’ve come to realize that i just ruined their time and made them believe in something that was never meant to go further. for some reason, i always loose my words when it comes to you but i think my song will explain it all: so again, please listen to it. i won’t release it unless you allow me to.

bye.

- mark minhyung lee

click here to listen to mark lee’s latest single — lyrics down below

Feeling used, but I'm still missing you

And I can't see the end of this

Just wanna feel your kiss

Against my lips

And now all this time

Is passing by

But I still can't seem to tell you why

It hurts me every time I see you

Realize how much I need you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

I miss you when I can't sleep

Or right after coffee

Or right when I can't eat

I miss you in my front seat

Still got sand in my sweaters

From nights we don't remember

Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart too, and

I'm always tired but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text but then I nevermind that shit

I got these feelings but you never mind that shit

Oh oh, keep it on the low

You're still in love with me but your friends don't know

If u wanted me you would just say so

And if I were you, I would never let me go

I don't mean no harm

I just miss you on my arm

Wedding bells were just alarms

Caution tape around my heart

You ever wonder what we could have been?

You said you wouldn't and you fucking did

Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix

Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed

Always missing people that I shouldn't be missing

Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance

I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing

But I learned from my dad that it's good to have feelings

When love and trust are gone

I guess this is moving on

Everyone I do right does me wrong

So every lonely night, I sing this song

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

All alone I watch you watch her

Like she's the only girl you've ever seen

You don't care you never did

You don't give a damn about me

Yeah all alone I watch you watch her

She's the only thing you've ever seen

How is it you never notice

That you are slowly killing me

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

coming soon, in september: i hate u? i love u? season two — don’t

new scene, new people and old appearances. will your relationship with haechan hold strong or will you both go back to old habits? don’t get tempted.

prev — m.list

taglist: @bbykaixx @alwayswonbinning @weepingsweep @dudekiss3r @kukkurookkoo @hoeingthefuckup @gomdoleemyson @haeclips @luvvhaechan @hsified @heegyuwrld @lubunnii @firydst @daengiez @nahyuckers @httpsxnox @n0hyuck @hi00000234567 @scoobysnackszoo @minkyuncutie @yuthabitz @haechology @neogotmysam @sanniekook @kisseokiss @nqyzhuo @kooookie @lovenha7 @andassortedkpop @jising-jisang-jisung @markleesleftpinky @ourbeautifulaffair @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @leehaechie @nosungluv

a/n: and it’s overrrr

yes this smau was inspired by the song — i hate u, i love u

i was obsessed with this song when i was younger lmao.

anyways. thank you so much guys! seriously!!! you’ve made my experience of posting my first smau on tumblr so good and fun i will never thank you enough.

i’m still gonna spend more time focusing on this story and universe so please interact and come to my asks with anything you’d like to say. i’d be beyond happy answering you.

also it’ll make me very happy if you guys would tune in for my next series which i’ve already spoiled the title of (reflections). more infos about it will be posted soon hehehe.

again, thank you and i love you all!!!

see you soon for the second season.

mwah!!!!

— ruby.

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twisted-lemy · 2 days ago

Text

I’ll Take You To The Garden Of Eden

4.5k words

Gnc!Reader x Leona Kingscholar

CW: None

A/n: To all my og followers who were promised a Leona rut fic, this is for y’all~ ❤️ and since today (or yesterday, it depends on when I post this) was my birthday I decided to double down and finish this for y’all as a little present from me to you! Hope you all enjoy!! ☺️

Yuu swears if Crowley ever, EVER, makes them go out and do janitorial work at the ass-crack of dawn again they’ll force feed him his stupid hat. They mean, what could’ve possibly have needed to be cleaned so badly that Crowley had to bust into their room at 5am to do it? Nothing, that’s what.

Here they are decked out head to toe in their janitor coveralls walking the empty halls of the campus while carting a heavy-ass buggy of cleaning supplies and, lo and behold, everything is already spotless—like actually fucking gleaming in the damn sunrise. And it isn’t just the main school halls that are already clean; the classrooms, the bathrooms, the cafeteria, hall of mirrors, hell—even the locker rooms where the late-night hookups happen are already clean too! (To their surprise.)

What even was the point of being out here? Hell if Yuu knows, but what they do know is that they are going to go back to Ramshackle, get back in bed, and go the fuck back to sleep. And if anyone bugs them—and yes, that does include Grim and the ghosts, they’ll go fucking nuclear. They’ve checked almost everywhere for this supposed “mess” that Crowley woke them up to deal with and they’ve found nothing, so forgive them for being a bit hissy about wasting their precious sleeping time.

Sorry Crowley, but also not. Go kick rocks, Yuu’s going back to bed and getting their rest, like they deserve.

And so Yuu turns around and begins to make their trek back to their dorm. Well, that’s what they’d like to be doing, if not for the weird noises coming out of the school’s botanical garden.

Yuu frowns, praying to whatever gods that preside over twisted wonderland that this isn’t the mess that they’ve been tasked with cleaning up, but deep down, they already know that this is it. So reluctantly, Yuu pushes open the double doors to the garden, preparing to deal with whatever is getting in between them and a good night’s sleep as quickly and effectively as possible—

—Only to have their nostrils assaulted with the heady smell of sweat and earth that hung heavy in the air. The smell was strong, strong enough to completely throw Yuu off their game, making them stagger in place.

“What the hell?” They say incredulously, their hands covering their nose. The smell alone makes them want to say fuck it and go home, cuz obviously the smell could only have one origin; someone is fucking in the botanical garden! And Crowley called them to sort it out!

‘There is a mess that I need you to clean posthaste. Come prefect, quickly!—their ass. What the fuck, Crowley?! First you have them clean up the school, the overblots, and now this?! What the fuck?!

Y’know what? No. They are not dealing with that. They are not the fun police, chasity police or whatever police anyone wants to call them. It’s not their job to go out of their way to separate young lovers from an intimate moment of passion at ass-crack o’clock! If Crowley wants to have that “mess” cleaned up he can do it his damn self.

They throw their hands up in exasperation. Really, this bugs them something fierce. How could Crowley go and call them out to do jackshit? At least all the other times he did it there was some actual shit to be done, but this time? There isn’t anything. And that annoyed them. (Almost as much as the sleep they’re losing)

Spinning on their heels, Yuu turns around and begins to walk out the door with only two things on their mind; a bath—to wash the smell of sex off them—and the sweet, sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

But things are never easy for them. Sadly, taking the easy out would not end well for them. So, against their better judgement and common sense, they suck up their complaints and u-turn back into the botanical gardens and begin wandering around, looking for the source of the stench. Funny how fast they decided to follow through with Crowley’s dumb request, isn’t it?

It took them zero time at all to find its source—or, should they say, It took zero time at all for the source to find them.

Two heavy hands roughly grab them by the shoulders and tackle them to the floor, one hand easily restraining their arms, the other harshly pressing their cheek into the soft dirt.

“The hell you doin’ here, herbivore?” The familiar voice of one Leona Kingscholar growled out.

Yuu sputters. “I was cleaning, jackass! Croweley sent me—and lemme go!”

They jerk wildly in their assailant’s hands to no avail. The bigger man pressed all his weight down onto them to keep them immobilized, much to their dismay.

“The damn crow sent you?” He clicks his tongue. “I shoulda known—I ask him to do one thing for me and and keep quiet about it and he goes and blabs to the nearest gofer to do it for him instead.”

They frantically nod their head in agreement, hoping to curry some of the temperamental lion’s favor. “Yeah, I get it, Crowley’s an asshole and can’t keep a sect for shit, now can you get off?”

Leona sniffs. “I’m already in a foul mood, do you really want to take your chances and order me around, herbivore?”

Do they? It’s not like they haven’t fought the lion beastmen at his most fearsome before and won but do they really want to fight him again? Yuu definitely could… but honestly? They really don’t want to do that at 6 in the morning before classes.

“Maybe if you got on your knees and sucked my dick I’ll let you off with a warning this time instead of knocking your teeth in.” He says in lieu of their response, his tone snarky.

Yuu deeply inhaled, then sighed. “Sure.”

Yuu feels the grip on them soften, just a tad. “Huh?” The snark in his tone was forgotten in the face of their calm, resigned acceptance of his offer.

“You heard me, I’ll suck you off if it means you leave me to my peace before classes start.” They state, flippantly. “I at least want to get a good extra two hours of sleep before I have to deal with school and me sitting here in the dirt, in this musty garden, isn’t getting me there any faster. Do you want your dick sucked or not?”

There’s silence, followed by their arms being relaxed and the heavy hand on the back of their head being lifted. Yuu revels in the feeling of no longer having their face smushed into the dirt or their arms constricted as they crawl to their knees and stretch.

Finally allowed freedom of movement, Yuu turns their head in the direction of their assailant. Sitting just a few coin tosses away was a disheveled Leona Kingscholar. He sits in his school uniform, though the orange vest signifying his status as a Savanahclaw student was nowhere to be seen, just his partially unbuttoned white dress shirt and black slacks—however, as Yuu takes a closer look at him, they can see where it all falls apart.

His signature braids that usually sit in his hair are missing, and his white button up is sweat soaked, basically see through—which explains why his vest was missing—and his pants…

“Oh wow,” they whistle, eyeballing the way his pants strained against his impressive erection, “Looking a little worked up there, aren’t we, Kingscholar?”

The man in question looks off to the side red faced. “Shut up! You gonna suck me off or not? Or do you want that ass whopping after all?”

They raised their hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’ll stop. It’s just, it’s not every day that I get to see the ever prideful and untouchable Housewarden of Savanaclaw look so… uh, how do I say this? Desperate? Needy,” they snap their fingers, “Desperate And needy?

Leona snarls at them, his teeth bared. “I’m in rut, damn it! I can’t help it!” He bites down on his venom and sighs. “I had asked Crowley to get some sedatives so I could ride this out, but instead he called you…” His voice dipped into a sneer at the end.

“Hey, newsflash, horny, I didn’t ask to be here!” They point to themselves. “And clearly Crowley can’t be trusted to do his job—you asking him for help was your first mistake.” Yuu then sighed, closing the distance between them and pushing Leona onto his back. “But, I guess I’m here to fix whatever this is now—seeing that the crow didn’t.”

They run their hands up down his body, getting a self-indulgent feel for his impressive form, before rising back up to his chest and kneading it through his shirt. Leona’s breath hitched as they made contact.

“E-easy now, Herbivore. You don’t know what you're messing with.” He says through grit teeth.

“I’ve messed with bigger and badder than you. Stop trying to act like a tough guy. Just relax and enjoy yourself.” They say, their hands still massaging his chest. “Should be easy for you, all you gotta do is sit back and look pretty, I’ll be the one doing all the work.” Like usual—but that last part goes unsaid.

Hesitantly, Leona nods.

“Good boy. Now,” they apply more pressure. “Relax~”

The lion beastmen bites his lip in retaliation, not deigning to give even the slightest hint of a moan or groan in Yuu’s favor. Not that they mind. They like it when they struggle.

In lieu of a response, Yuu’s hands slowly trails down his body, deftly unbuttoning his dress shirt as they did and exposing his toned upper body to the early morning air.

They whistle at the sight, taking in his impressive form and marveling at how his sweat soaked body glistened in the early morning sun. “Damn, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” they lean in close and rub their face into his hairy chest, breathing in his scent—earth and the sour smell of musk. The smell sent shivers straight to their dick. “I could get used to seeing you like this.”

As they once again went to take in his scent a familiar heavy hand landed on the back of their head, startling them. “Ey, Herbivore, I thought you were working on me?” Leona says between breaths.

They remove their head from between his cleavage and look up at him. “I am, but who said that I can’t get some pleasure out of this as well?” With that, they shoved their face back into his chest, though this time they resumed kneading his chest as they sat and huffed his scent.

Leona however, despite his red face and somewhat labored breaths, sits amused and unimpressed above them. To that, Yuu takes offense. While they already knew that Leona was a tough nut to crack, to think that he was able to remain somewhat composed even in a situation like this? It pisses them off, that even with the intensity of their touches, he still manages to hold it together—but that only inspires them to try even harder. Put in more effort, so to speak.

Shifting their head, they find themself face to face with one of the bigger man’s nipples. Licking their lips, they close the distance and begin lightly kissing it—and to that, the first unmuffled moan escapes the beastmen’s mouth.

The sounds coming out of Leona’s mouth as they kissed his chest was like music to their ears. Each realized moan and sharp expletive out of the lion’s mouth was like a drug to them—it gave them the energy needed to redouble their assault with extreme vigor, all to hear him come undone above them. Now, with one of Leona’s “weaknesses” discovered, they begin an assault, using their teeth to tease the nipple while alternating between gently roaming their tongue around his areola.

Leona shivered under their breath, his body shaking with barely controlled energy as they left mark after mark all over his chest.

Finally, the man all but shouts, “Herbivore stop before I ruin in my pants—“

And they stop, their lips leaving the shivering man’s chest. Leona getting his own this early on isn’t in the cards for him, not if Yuu has anything to say about it. They back away from the beastmen and sit cross-legged, arms folded. The other stares at them in annoyed confusion.

“Th-the hell you doin’, herbivore” Leona pants, his chest heaving.

“Letting you come down from whatever this,” they make a vague gesture in Leona’s direction, “is. I can’t have you tapping out this early in the games and besides—”

As fast as they made space between the two, Yuu closes the distance and begins peppering Leona’s body with kisses and hickies, staring from his chest, down his abdomen, along his happy trail until they finally were face to face with his twitching bulge.

“—I promised to suck you off and I haven’t done that yet.” They say, a wicked grin appearing on their face as they pressed a kiss against the other man’s still clothed erection. ”You might wanna lay back, I’ve been told that my skills were a little too… much for the average guy to handle.”

Leona scoffs. “You think I’m anything like the average guy? Awful big talk from an herbivore”

They roll their eyes. He’ll end up regretting those words soon enough if they have anything to say about it. Yuu all but rips the belt from around the beastmen’s waist as they undo his belt, tear off his pants, and tug off the beastman’s (Leopard print. Really?) boxers allowing the beastman’s, admittedly quite impressive, cock to bound out and into the morning light.

“Damn, and I thought it was big before I took it out of your pants…” Yuu blanches at the sight of the monster standing proudly before them.

Leona, noticing this, smirks proudly and snarks, “What? Getting cold feet now? Herbivore?”

Their eye twitches.

Cold feet? Them? It’d be a cold day in hell before that ever happens—they mean, they’ve fought both Malleus and Grim’s overblots, god dammit. If they could do that and survive to tell the story then they can handle some dick. No matter how big, impressive… or generally intimidating the dick may be.

They shake their head and slip on a mask of indifference, easily masking their initial hesitation with a cool exterior. “Don’t get too full of yourself. I’ve sucked bigger.”

“Have you?” He questioned, a teasing lit to his voice.

No.

They haven’t.

That was a lie.

But Leona doesn’t need to know that, does he?

“Yeah, I did.” They lied, their voice dripping with a cool confidence as they gave his cock a few teasing jerks. “Jack’s a big guy, ya know? In height, muscle, and apparently, other things as well.”

Leona’s eyes twitched at that and his pupils narrowed dangerously into slits. His pride as a man somewhat attacked at the thought of being compared and found inferior to a freshman of all people.

“Why don’t you go suck his dick instead, since you wanna verbally slob on it here—” Leona yelps.

Yuu squeezed his dick, hard. “You asked and I answered truthfully.” Truthfully lying. “If anything, if I could handle him, I can definitely handle you.”

Leona scoffs and leans back, resting on his elbows. “Then do it already and stop talking. Show me these “skills” you boast so much about.”

Yeah, they’ll show him their “skills” all right. By the time they're done with him they’ll be the only thing he’ll be thinking about for the next few days. They snicker under their breath, their thoughts running wild.

Confident, they take the tip of his cock into their mouth, their tongue roaming around the head questioningly as its strong taste and heavy smell assault their senses. It was difficult, at first, to get a feel of what works and what doesn’t. Most of their usual tactics were rendered useless on a cock of Leona’s size—one that barely fit into their mouth.

But that doesn’t deter Yuu in the slightest.

They use their hands to make up for what they can’t do with their mouth, their left fondling his fuzzy balls and their right pumping his cock—and that made all the difference. Leona was panting like a racehorse, his chest was heaving, and his arms shook under the weight of his own pleasure—just barely able to support himself.

Yuu couldn’t see him from their place between his legs but man oh MAN could they hear him and what they heard sent waves to their ego. Serves him right for underestimating them.

“S-shit!”

Their thoughts abruptly stop and thier eyes blow wide open as the man involuntarily bucks up into their mouth choking them with his cock as the massive thing violently assaults the back of their throat. It takes everything in them to not gag—fuck, it takes everything in them to retain their composure and throw up on the man.

Yuu extracts themselves from the cock with a small grimace and a trail of slob connecting them to his cock, then they all but snarl, “Do I need to tie you down?? You about fucking chocked me, asshole!”

“Really? To me it looked like you took that small bout of deep throating like a champ.” He smirks and tilts his head, his face flushed red with tension. “Didn’t gag or anything. Now get back to work, I’m getting soft over here.”

They scoff, indignant to his words, then immediately getsssssszc back to work. This time, now that they, whether they wanted to or not, got a… feel for his size and what pleasurable acts he liked, they allowed themselves to be bolder with their advances. Slowly they lowered their head onto his cock, taking him into their mouth until his cock reached the back of their through again, but this time?

They aren’t stopping there.

No, stopping there would be pussy shit and they aren’t a pussy. This time, they kept going. Steadying themselves by placing their hands on the ground, they slowly push the cock, albeit hesitantly, past their uvula, down their throat and soon enough they find themselves nose deep in his bush—basically pressed against his pelvis. Yuu could feel Leona's girth press against their airways from their throat, rendering the process of breathing uncomfortably difficult, but the pain was so so worth it when they felt full body shudders start running down the beastmen’s body and heard his loud moan echo throughout the botanical garden unrestrained like the fierce roar of his animal counterpart.

“Shiiiiit, herbivore…” He sucks in a breath. “Your skills aren’t bullshit after all.”

Of course they aren’t. Contrary to how they hold themselves here in twisted wonderland and how “touch me not” they are with the people here, they were known for slutting it up back home between college classes and part time jobs. So naturally this is nothing to them and their plethora of experience and they’re just getting started.

Yuu’s hands rose from the ground and trailed Leona’s inner thighs, inching closer and closer to the beastman’s ass, but coming full stop before getting any closer. Inquisitively, they look up at Leona from their place. The man in question just gives an uncharacteristically jerky nod, understanding their intentions.

Now that consent is theirs, they resume, their hands continuing thier trek upwards until they reach his twitching hole. Yuu slowly prodded at the puckered hole with a finger, anticipating resistance considering how much of a tight ass leona could be but to their shock their finger slipped in easily. Laughably easy, in their opinion.

Now they know he’s good for it if he ever puts it on the table, good information, if Yuu says so themself, and that they don’t need to take baby steps in fingering him. Seeing that he’s probably taken much bigger to have obtained such easy access. (Yuu still can’t get over that. Like holy shit, the Leona Kingscholar has been bent before. Who woulda thunk?)

Finding his g-spot, his prostate, was easy and once they had contact they finally heard—no, felt, Leona come undone. Ragged breaths, unfinished words, a large range of sharp curses—in what Yuu can only assume is the twst’s equivalent to Swahili—to pitiful pleading. Y’know, the works. And Yuu had the luxury of hearing all of it as they made a full frontal assault on his g-spot.

Man, if they could magic up a second pair of eyes to glimpse even a fraction of his fucked-out expression, Yuu could die a happy janitor. Too bad they don’t have magic (Cough) but the obscene amount of pre forcing its way down their throat was confirmation enough.

“I’m getting close…”

They extract themself from his crotch and smirk at him. “You gonna cum for me, Leo?”

He nods jerkily.

“You wanna cum in my mouth?” They say, teasing, inviting.

Leona nods again, faster this time.

Yuu smiles at him, a hint of genuine enjoyment on their face—one that sent lava pooling in the beastmen’s lower gut and slick pre-cum oozing from the tip of his cock. He’s close. They can taste it.

And that sends an idea though their mind.

“Say… you’ve been so good about doing as I say up till now, so, why don’t I let you have a freebie? Just this once, seeing that you're at your limit now.”

He looks at them confused, too out of breath to verbally respond but his eyes speak for him and at that Yuu explains his reward.

“I’m gonna let you fuck my face until you cum.” They make a lewd gesture with their hand to their mouth. “I want you to gag me like you mean it. Just like you did earlier.” Leona’s eyes widened. They continue. “I won’t put up a fight either. I know a big strong sexy lion like yourself loves easy prey, so I’ll be Just That~”

Yuu grabs Leona's hands and places them on the back of their head, then lays theirs down on the ground in an act of submission. He stares at them, an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes showing… worry?

“Don’t worry, I can take a lot of punishment.” They assure, then they say, “Now have at me! We have twenty minutes until classes start and I wanna get outta here before students start showing up!” Or Crowley asked them to do something else. But that ain’t either here or there.

“…You sure?”

Yuu responds by kissing the tip of Leona’s weeping cock, winking at him as they did and the effect is immediate.

Leona pushes himself to his knees and begins desperately thrusting into their maw. His thrusts are slow at first, as if he’s afraid of hurting them or going to far, but slowly that worry fades to the back of his mind as lust overpowered reason and his desire to finally have release—and also maybe have the luxury of painting the cocky herbivore’s mouth white with his seed has his thrusting speed gradually increase to breakneck speeds.

There is no warning between the wet noises of Yuu’s gags and Leona’s animalistic grunts of the soon approaching beastmen’s climax, only a loud roar was given as thick ropes of cum spewed into the back of their throat, dribbled from the corners of their mouth, out of their nostrils and onto their coveralls due to this continued thrusts. But he wasn’t done yet, no, just one orgasm wasn’t enough to satiate him. Not in his state.

His thrusts became more erratic—choking them with his cock—and the copious amounts of cum he produced somehow? All of it, forced down their gullet each time, and no, they did not spit any of it out.

No spitting here. Spitters are quitters and Yuu isn’t a quitter. (They aren’t—and the leakage earlier was Leona’s fault, not theirs. They take no responsibility.)

And it’s not like Leona would let them spit anyway. (Which they wouldn’t, just so you know) The beastmen kept at least nine inches in them at all times and that wasn’t even all of him, he held into Yuu’s head in a vice-like almost desperate grip as his hips bucked into their face, releasing one last monster of a load down their throat before pulling out his now flaccid cock and collapsing beside them in a sweaty heap.

“Holy,” they cough, a result of some semen going down the wrong hole during the face fucking. Their voice is raspy to their own ears but they take it as a job well done. “Uh, holy shit. You were pent the fuck up, weren’t you? Didn't know anyone could cum like that outside of porn. Heheh.”

Yuu collapses their back and glances at Leona. The man is breathing heavily with his eyes closed, a hand on his forehead.

Tentatively, they say, “You good?”

“…Shouldn’t I be asking you that instead, Yuu?” He says lowly, turning his head in their direction. “Is your throat ok?”

“I’ve been through worse.”

His eyebrow raises, then he smirks. “Yeah, like Jack?”

They nod, caught in a lie, but not willing to admit it just yet. “Yeah, like Jack. You should try him out for a test drive and see how your throat holds up after. Won’t be so funny then when you're the one sounding like Dr. Girlfriend for the next couple of business days will it?”

“Yeah, right. But seriously, are you doin alright? I don’t hold anything back.” He asks again, a concerned glint in his otherwise tired eyes.

Again, they say, “And I told you that I could handle a lot of punishment. This is nothing if not a minor inconvenience to me—the most bothersome thing is that I smell like dick, sweat, cum, and dirt now, but other than that, all is good.”

Yuu hobbles to their feet and stretches, then turns on their heels and begins to leave.

“You’re leavin just like that? You didn’t even get to off yourself though…?” The beastmen questioned, now in a seated position.

“Yeah, a shame, I know. I got classes and I need to get ready,” they groan then yawn, exhaustedly. “Double shame that I spent so much time on you, I missed my pre-class nap…”

“Why not skip classes with me if you're so tired? No one’s gonna keel over if you miss a single day of class.”

Actually someone might. That someone being Grim. Knowing him, he’ll fuck up a potion and somehow make mustard gas or devil’s bane or some shit. Really, anything could happen if they leave him unsupervised. Ace too.

And Deuce.

… Do they really want to go to classes today?

…

Yuu walks back over to Leona’s prone form and flops down beside him, laying down.

Leona smirks at them, his tail flicking. “Stayin after all, Yuu?”

They shrug. “I can’t be bothered to deal with anyone’s bullshit today without at least a full twelve hours of sleep first.”

Yuu cuddles into him and Leona reciprocates by throwing an arm around them.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence between them.

“I’ll pay you back for your help, Yuu,” Leona promised, breaking the silence.

“I look forward to it… and put your pants back on.”

Twsited-Lemy June 24 DO NOT REPOST

#lemy writes stuff #twisted wonderland #twst #twst mc #twst yuu #twst leona #twst leona kingscholar #leona x mc #leona x yuu #twst leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #twst fanfic #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut

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yall-batman-fanfic · 10 hours ago

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Prom | Batsis x Terry McGinnis/Batman (ft. Batmom x Batman)

Note: Part of the Continuity or the Original Storyline of Bruce Wayne /Batman x Vivian Pryor Synopsis: Terry gets ready for prom and learned that Valerie Wayne never went to one.

The Batjet came back from a night of patrol and fighting criminals in the streets of Gotham. Another night—rather, morning—of Batman finishing the job. Jumping out of the cockpit, Terry pulled off the cowl and faced Bruce who didn’t wait from his cozy seat by the Batcomputer where Valerie was still working and asked him about tonight’s patrol.

Terry gave his report, a couple of Jokerz causing trouble, then he got something from the Royal Flush Gang starting something big. He caught them stealing some battery that he still doesn’t know what for.

“But I did get a sample that Penny can work on,” Terry tossed the small object that resembled a test tube with metal holders at the ends. Valerie caught it with ease and inspected it with magic.

“I’ll start on the research, run some tests and cross reference on our previous cases on the Royal Flush Gang to see what it does,” said Valerie.

“Do that tomorrow, you need to get some sleep. You got classes later,” Bruce told her.

“Let me just start on the diagnostics,” Valerie hit the last key and then placed it in what Terry believes to be a bulletproof glass that had the scanner and away from the computer.

“A little over the top don’t you think?” Terry raised a brow at her.

“Leave that thing exposed to high temperature or even having it crushed to the ground would mean an explosion.”

“Is’t a bomb?!”

“Not quite. You said you got this from Powers’ Factory, just last week Powers’ recalled a bunch of batteries because they’re actually mini bombs that are waiting to explode. There’s even a video of kids throwing the damn things around and making explosions left and right. For safety reasons, I placed it in a chamber where I can manipulate the temperature and where it won’t be thrown around like a firecracker.”

Bruce turned to him and said: “And you had that in the front pocket of your utility belt?”

“I didn’t know!” Terry exclaimed.

Bruce sighed. “Good job, Penny. But have the Batcomputer do its job for the rest of the day. Go to bed, you got tests tomorrow.”

Valerie got up from her chair and stretched. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, McGinnis.”

“Actually about that. I was wondering if I can come in a little later?” Terry asked.

“Why?” Bruce’s voice was a little sharper than it should.

“My friends and I are going out to look for suits for prom.”

“Prom?” Valerie repeated. “You’re going to prom. I didn’t know you dance, McGinnis.”

“I do more than just fight crime, Princess.”

“You’d do anything but fight crime.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Terry glared at her.

“Take the night, I’ll take tomorrow night’s patrol,” Valerie shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll just study your latest recordings to see what you left off. I’m going upstairs. Night, Dad,” Valerie placed a kiss on her father’s cheek then ran up the stairs to the clock entrance.

“Night!” Terry called out to her but Valerie ignored her. Did he do something wrong?

Bruce sighed. “It’s nothing personal. Take the night off tomorrow night and the night of your prom. Val and I will work on the case then.”

He hated it when the father and daughter did that. The whole “you’re not taking this seriously” and “we can do this without you” tone.

“If you don’t want me to go, just say it,” Terry snapped.

With furrowed brows, Bruce said to him, “We mean it this time, Terry. You don’t get to go to these things twice, you know. Go and enjoy it. Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”

What just happened?

~ * ~

Terry never liked shopping but he can’t just go to prom with Dana wearing a cheap suit. But he’s been going through the rack and all he could see were bad fits, and the ones that actually look good were way out of his budget. Maybe he’ll just get this one—

“Hey Val, isn’t he your Dad’s assistant?”

The mention of the name had Terry raise his head like a meerkat and turn to the direction where he heard it. Following the sound of Bunny Vreeland’s voice, he saw the two young women standing at the aisle—Valerie Pryor-Wayne and Bunny Vreeland, with the latter holding a dress cover with her purchase inside.

“Yeah he is,” Val said. “Hey, Terry, shopping for prom?”

“Yeah, what are you two doing here?” Terry left his little group and approached them.

“Bunny was shopping for prom too. Gotham Academy’s hosting theirs too.”

“What about you? Gonna go shopping too? I heard Gotham Academy’s open to everyone as long as they’re invited by the student or a chaperone.”

“See, I told you!” Bunny shook Valerie’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you a dress and you can come with me!”

“Bunny, you already have a date to the prom!” Valerie laughed.

“He’s a student so he gets to get in, so I can bring you! Come on, Val,” Bunny turned to Terry and said, “She hasn’t gone to prom because of her acceleration. And this could be her last chance to go.”

“You never been to prom?” Terry turned to Valerie who avoided his gaze.

“Yeah, skipping a couple of grades has its downside, and when there is a prom my family has a thing to do.”

By thing she meant vigilante and hero stuff.

“Help me to convince her to go to prom,” Bunny told Terry. “We still have a couple of days before then.”

“Even if I do go, it’d be too late by then. I won’t have a dress and it’s just a hassle. I’m fine, Bunny.”

Bunny pouted and hugged Valerie’s arm. Valerie sighed and patted Bunny’s head. “I’m heading home. See you tomorrow, McGinnis.”

Valerie didn't wait for him to say goodbye and left with Bunny, promising to treather to some ice cream before they head home.

Terry didn't wait until tomorrow night to see Valerie. Despite what Bruce said about him taking the night off to look for his suit, he went to Wayne Manor; he surprised Bruce and Vivian who were having dinner together in the kitchen instead of their large dining room, when they asked why he was there he said that shopping didn't go as planned and he was ready to start his patrol. Before he went down though, Vivian asked if he could bring with him Valerie's dinner which was set on a tray about to float down to the Cave.

In the cave, he saw Valerie Wayne deep in work. She was already wearing her Red Bat uniform, but for the cowl and the red coat, while she watched the videos from his cowl's feed last night and while waiting for the report being made on the batteries that the Royal Flush Gang stole.

“Somebody ordered room service?” Terry called out, grabbing her attention.

“I thought you have shopping to do?” Valerie turned to him.

“Yeah but nothing looked good, I thought I might head here and try again tomorrow. Mrs. Wayne asked me to bring you this, she also told me to tell you to have dinner before heading out… but considering I'm here, you can stay in and have your full dinner and I'll head out.”

“I'm heading out once I finish this and once the report is done,” Valerie told him. “Go home, Terry. I can handle this.”

Terry threw his bag on the bench and leaned on the Batcomputer. He watched as she ate her dinner while working. Again. “What is it with Waynes and the whole ‘I work alone’ when clearly, you don't. Batman doesn't, even when he says he does. And you don't.”

“I didn't say I work alone, I'm telling you to go home and prepare for prom.”

“And what about you? Aren't you going?”

Valerie scoffed. “GU doesn't have prom.”

“But Bunny Vreeland was asking you to go with her.”

“Well, Bunny has a date.”

“Scared that no one is going to dance with you?”

“I just don't want to ruin the night Bunny's date has planned out for them.” She was dodging the question. Typical for a Wayne. Which also means she was. The old Terry would have pushed on that topic more, teased her until she snaps. But the new Terry could see it was a sensitive topic for Valerie. The woes of accelerating grades, she said then, but after working with her, getting to know her for these past months, he knew it was more than that.

“Just out of curiosity, did you ever want to go to prom?” Terry asked her.

Valerie finished eating her grilled chicken before answering, “As much as it looks like I'm this person who doesn't give two shits about stupid things like prom because my dad was Batman, yeah I thought about it. When I was a kid, I would always watch my mom get ready for galas. I love it when she wears those beautiful gowns and then style her hair and put on those jewelries. It looked like she was transforming to something even more beautiful.

“Sometimes she would let me help out with fixing her hair or her jewelry, and when she does she would let me wear some of hers too. I would always beg them to let me go to the galas because I wanted to dress up like her, to be as beautiful as her, but they would always say I was still too young and when I get older I'd get to wear beautiful dresses like her and she'd fix my hair.

“Then highschool came, and the idea of prom came to mind. We were excited about it, but then I got accelerated two levels, and I was the youngest in a batch of eighteen-year-olds and no one would dare ask out a sixteen-year-old to prom, especially when it's Bruce Wayne's daughter. I would have made an excuse to not go but then thank the Kryptonians because they reached out to ask for help.”

Well, that's just sad, Terry thought. “If you always wanted to go then why don't you? Bunny is asking you to go with her and I'm sure someone there would ask you for a dance.”

“I know you're just trying to cheer me up but I don't know any of those people aside from Bunny and her boyfriend. All my life the kids my age I know are within the Justice League and some of Mom's weird friends, and that's it. It was one crisis after the other for me, even from the moment I was born. Was it a lonely life? A little but that's just how things were then. And I learned how to be content with it. So I don't need your pity.”

Valerie put on her cowl and her coat. She then grabbed the report, swiping it to transfer to her cowl's AI, then she snapped her fingers to get her keys. “Go home, Terry. I'll take tonight's patrol, and until you find your tux for prom. And then prom. But you owe me for those nights, got it?”

Despite the grim talk earlier, Terry chuckled and said, “Yeah, got it… good luck out there, Bat.”

Valerie revved the engine of her motorcycle, gave him a mocking salute, and then drove off.

Just as he thought there would be a slight sense of normalcy in the Waynes, he was yet again proven wrong. As Terry walked up the stairs with Valerie's empty plates, he came to a pause just as he came out of the clock and saw Vivian Pryor-Wayne standing there with a sad smile.

Terry sighed again. “I guess you heard everything.”

“A little,” Vivian shrugged. “But Bruce heard most of it. He's not moping in our bedroom.” She snapped her fingers and the tray floated out of his hands and to the kitchen. “So, you’re having trouble with finding a suit?”

“Yeah, I might check out another shop tomorrow.”

“Or we can check some now.”

“I think the stores are closed now, Mrs. Wayne,” he chuckled.

Vivian looked past him, he followed her gaze and it came to one of the family photos that hung on the mantle. Specifically one where the whole family wore formal attire---the men wore their suits, and the women and Valerie wore expensive looking dresses and suits.

“I think you're just about Damian's size when we took that photo.”

“How old was he then?”

“Twenty,” Vivian’s smile grew. “He was a very lean kid, had build up muscle just to be as big as Jason. Come on, I still have his things in his old room.”

Vivian wasn't kidding about keeping Damian's room as it was when the youngest Robin lived there. The room was simple, too clean for a teenage boy, but Terry took note of the sketches that were pinned on the walls. They were pretty good, he thought as he looked at each one, until he saw what looked like child's drawing amongst the realism portraits and landscapes. Drawn with crayon and a clumsy hand, Terry could make out that the two potatoes were Robin and a little girl, then on top there was a short message: Happy Birthday, Damian. Love, Val.

“And I thought Val started drawing car engines at four,” he mused.

From the closet, Vivian said, “Oh, she tried drawing them. When she was five, Bruce bought her a project car that they can work on. Since then, she started drawing parts of the car. Her works looked like Picasso but as she grew older her works got better.”

“Like Da Vinci-good?”

“You could say that,” Vivian came out with the suit. “You can change in there, then come out so I know how I'll fix it.”

“You don't have to do that, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Terry, no one is ever going to wear this suit. You'll be doing this old woman's heart a favor to see it be used by someone she trusts.”

He was touched by her words, and maybe it was hearing it that Terry gave in and went to change into the suit. Coming out of the walk-in closet, he stood before Vivian and showed her how it looked. The suit was a little bigger than they thought but it only needed minor adjustments to fit him, especially for the sleeves and pant length. The tape measures and pins magically came and did the work. It took his measurements and marked how much was needed to be reduced to make the suit fit him well.

“Sometimes I wonder if the way we chose to live our life took so much from Valerie,” Vivian began. “When was a baby, many wanted a piece of her. The people of Gotham wanted to see Bruce Wayne's daughter. Then when she was one, another variant of Thomas Wayne came and terrorized our family for months. He held us both hostage, I was in a glass dome then and he spent time with his granddaughter. Then she grew up a couple of years, then there was Dracula, that was on me. Then a couple of kidnappings. Then Hush came and that really, really scarred her life.”

“Hush? I read about him in the Batcave. There's an entry about Bruce crushing his hands,” Terry turned to Vivian with furrowed brows.

“Hush wanted revenge on both Batman and Bruce Wayne. And he knew that the only way to do it is by getting to me and Val. He took my heart hostage and Val he… for years, Val has been struggling with that trauma. And part of me thinks she still hasn't healed for it… then to make things worse, a Nightmare from my father took her soul hostage and trapped her in an endless nightmare in Hush's lab where he was harvesting her organs everyday.

“My baby girl, she barely had most of her teeth out and yet she experienced all of those things… there's just so much that happened in her life that Bruce and I became protective. Her brothers trained her, so did Bruce. And I taught her magic… then when she was thirteen, the Falcones attacked the car she and her grandfather were in. She saw her grandfather die in her arms.

“I’m not saying that Val had it worse than you, Terry. No. Losing your father is still a huge loss, and it's something that no one ever wants for you or any other kid out there. It's just, there are times when I wonder if we were right to not take the chance to start again elsewhere.”

“I understand. I just didn’t realize she had to miss out on a lot of things. I always had this image that she’s got it all.”

The suit was finished with marking the adjustments and Vivian went to see for herself. “Even the richest man doesn’t have it all.”

“I guess you’re right about that too. Aside from Mr. Wayne’s folks, I read about what happened to yours too. Your mother. I guess we all have that in common. It always starts with death.”

Vivian smiled. “Well, I won’t blame her for everything that’s happened. And I won’t say death follows us all… I’d say tragedy does. To live a hero’s life means to be a hero in a tragedy. What do you think about that?”

Terry almost laughed at the sudden shift of the conversation. He looked at the suit’s fit and said, “It looks great. Like it wasn’t an old, borrowed, suit.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. That’s Armani you’re wearing.”

“What?”

“Well, take it off, I’ll have it ready by tomorrow for you. And don’t worry about sending it to the drycleaning, I’ll take care of it. You’ll be getting the whole service package.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Wayne” — Terry paused before he could enter the walk-in closet — “Mrs. Wayne, can I ask you another favor?”

“Anything.”

~ Prom Night ~

If Terry had the receipts of the favors he’s asked the Waynes, he’d probably be in debt until he was in his grave. Just before he went to prom, Terry thought of seeing the Waynes to check up on them. He was still Bruce Wayne’s assistant, and checking in on him is the least he could do. Arriving at the Manor, after being subjugated to Valerie’s endless teasing with him wearing a suit, and then Damian Wayne identifying the suit he was wearing was actually his one, Bruce and Vivian surprised him with a little something.

“You’re letting me drive your car?” Terry caught the keys Bruce tossed him. It was the keys to the black 1972 Dodge Charger.

“The theme of the prom is vintage, and I think it suits it well,” Vivian shrugged.

“You’re being too nice to him,” Damian told Vivian.

“It’s actually my car, McGinnis,” Valerie told him.

“You’re always welcome to drive me to prom, Princess,” Terry teased her.

Valerie raised her middle finger. “Screw you. I’m gonna get ready for patrol.”

“You know there’s still time for you to change your mind!”

“Not one scratch. I mean it!”

“Look who you’re talking to—I’m a great driver!”

Bruce raised a brow. “The batmobile would beg to differ.”

“Alright, time for you to go before you’re late,” Vivian fixed the lapels of his tux, and with magic she conjured a corsage. “Have fun tonight, Terry. But not too much fun.”

“I will. Thank you, Mrs. Wayne.”

Getting in the car, which he now figured out was parked outside for him, Terry took one last look of the family standing at the porch and drove away for prom.

With Terry gone, Valerie went straight to the cave and went for her patrol. She’s going to cover a lot of ground tonight.

~ * ~

The lead that Damian told her about was outside of Gotham, following the road of New Jersey to Long Island. It was an odd call from her older brother, but he sounded… like the usual Damian who is behind the Batcomputer who is all “just do what I tell you to.”

Now here she was, riding her motorcycle by the cliffs that had the view of the coastline and ten minutes from her destination, and Damian telling her that the target was down at the beach.

“Would have appreciated the heads up early on, big brother,” Valerie told him.

“You whine too much,” Damian said back. “And don’t even think about–”

Too late. Valerie took the next rough road that was heading down the beach. The path was steep and reckless to take. Any untrained rider or mountain bike rider would have fallen off the cliff and died but Valerie was not untrained, her family made share she was well equipped to handle these things before letting her do the hero-vigilante work.

“You’re grounded,” Damian told her.

“You’re not Mom.”

“I have special power of Mom.”

Valerie laughed and added more power, speeding up as she descended the cliff and was now riding the beach. As she neared the location being shown in her cowl, Valerie prepared her staff and had electricity flow from her hand to it and ready to strike the opponent. But as she came to the sight, she hit the brakes hard and put down the staff.

“Terry?” She said.

Terry McGinnis, leaning on the ‘72 Dodge Charger, waved at her and said, “Hi.”

“You’re the lead—what happened to prom? Where’s the guy who…”

“It’s two in the morning. Prom ended, like, three—four hours ago.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Good question,” Terry went to the boot of the car and pulled out a black dress cover that hung on a hanger. Valerie didn’t have to ask what it was, she knew that dress hanger anywhere. It was the same one that her mother had in the master bedroom closet, the red one, the fitted, cap-sleeve, gown made of ottoman silk. Valerie liked seeing her mother wear that.

Though she knew the risk, Valerie took off her cowl and the earpiece to face him properly. “What about patrol?”

“Red Robin has been patrolling since midnight. Gotham’s in good hands.”

“What about your date?”

“Dana went to an afterparty.”

“Shouldn’t you be there? It’s prom night.”

Terry shrugged. “Yeah, but I guess I’m lucky to go to prom twice. Well?”

She opened her mouth and closed it as thought for a while about what to say. “Did my Mom set you up to this?”

“Actually it was my idea. The dress was hers though. Come on, Princess. Time is ticking, put on the dress and let’s go to prom.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline still in her body from the ride to here, but Valerie was sure her heart was beating faster than usual. It wasn’t like how she was in training, patrols, her runs, or even in actual fights. This was different. It felt different and just…

For the first time, Valerie felt the blood rush up to her face, so she looked away.

“We’re not leaving until we do this.”

“Just give me the damn dress!” Valerie snatched it from him and marched to the bushes where she knew he won’t see her get changed. Not that she needed to go through the long process of doing so since she had magic but it was still weird to do it in front of him.

Coming out of the bushes, Valerie threw her equipment at Terry, catching him off guard, it was only when he got it in the trunk did he see how she looked. It wasn’t the first time he saw Valerie Wayne dress up, but this was different. Hair shiny and curled with waves while being accented by a robin jewel hair ornament, her face wearing just the right amount of make-up for the night with her lips painted with a dark shade of red. She wore the same pendant but this time she was wearing it as a choker than the usual long chain. Then the dress… The dress fitted perfectly on her, showing the curves of her bust before it reached the skirt that spread out, like those large dresses with many layers, but this didn’t have many layers.

“Wow, you look great,” Terry chuckled.

“Thanks,” Valerie looked away from him.

“Oh, here,” He reached in the car again and pulled out a corsage. “I know you and your mom hate it when people pick flowers.” It was a corsage made out of shells. “Don’t ask how I did it…”

There was an Atlantean who saw him picking shells and trying to make a necklace. They saw his work was so bad that they decided to help him out.

“It’s really beautiful. Thanks, Terry,” Valerie lets him place it on her.

“While you were getting changed, I set this up for us. See, it’s a full prom!” On the hood of the car, with a blanket on the surface as protection, Terry had canned drinks, a couple take-away burgers and fries, and then an old-school radio. “We got drinks and food and music,” he turned the knob to get a signal and…

It started playing a song that was jazz and blues.

It reminded them of the record that Bruce would always play in the living room.

“Well, Princess?” Terry offered his hand to her.

“You know how to dance to that?” Valerie took his hand.

“I’m a fast learner.”

“Okay, McGinnis,” She laughed. Valerie circled him with his hand still holding hers, when she pulled out, Terry instinctively pulled her back in and kept the rhythm.

“I guess rich-girls have special dance classes,” he teased.

“Would you believe me that it was my Dad who taught me?” she got out of his chest and led them through the dance. She held her dress as she danced, helping it give an illusion of the music flowing through them in each twirl and step, and every grain of sand that flew as they stepped and skidded. Terry held her hand the entire time and his smile never faltered, and to surprise her he even dipped her back a little too.

That made Valerie laugh. Both of them did.

The song soon changed to something more slow and fitting for the night. This time, it was Terry who led the dance. Placing her hands on his shoulders, and his hands on her waist, he had them sway to the music.

“How was it? Prom, I mean,” Valerie asked him suddenly.

“It was fun, but I think it would have been more fun if you were there,” he admitted.

She wanted to ask about his girlfriend but Valerie decided to save it for another time and just live this moment now. Though she knew it was wrong, Valerie rested her head on his shoulder and just let Terry take the lead this time.

~ * ~

Above the beach, sitting at a private table for two in the Black Bird restaurant. Bruce and Vivian watched as Valerie danced with a boy they never thought would ever be part of their lives yet here he was.

“This takes me back to our first date,” Bruce smiled at the sight of his daughter enjoying the night.

Vivian smiled but that soon disappeared. “I remember that too… oh, Bruce, we made so many mistakes with her. I’m just glad she still knows how to smile and enjoy life.”

“I know, my love,” Bruce reached out to kiss her hand. He then stood up, still holding her hand, and gestured for them to the open floor. “I want to see if I can still make my wife smile and blush like we were in our twenties.”

She was already blushing. Vivian took his cane and had it lean on the table before joining Bruce to the center where she held him, and he held her, and they swayed to the music that came from Terry’s radio down the cliff.

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