#y’all don’t forget who i am ….. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atomicami · 5 months ago

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while my heart heals…

ceo!sevika x fem!reader

- summary: you’re in a whirlwind when you and your boss catch your boyfriend with her fiancée in the act together. the heartbreak starts to affect your performance at work, and as a result, you decide to take a leave of absence so you can heal properly. but when your boss catches you handing the letter onto her desk, she ends up giving you some unexpected comfort—followed by a proper farewell.

- content: smut MDNI, modern au, corporate setting, NYC living (for now), reader works in sales, reader is dating jayce (only in the beginning), mel and sevika are engaged, age gap (reader is early-mid 20s, sevika is early-mid 40s), secret love affairs, infidelity/cheating followed by breaking up, hurt/comfort, porn with plot, fingering (r!receiving), semi-public sex (they do it in the office!), sevika being a tease and talking you through it, cockblocking, and also everyone is filthy rich in this

- author’s note: can’t stop thinking about getting with rich ceo sevika so i decided to write this out. i hope y’all like it!

“sometimes i don’t even know where i’m going but i’ll never forget where i come from i know who i am and who i will be and that’s why i have faith in myself”

(this fic is crossposted on ao3)

The rain hasn’t let up all day.

Thick, gray clouds spread across the sky, the city being consumed by the downpour. You barely notice it, though—your mind is still at the office, stuck between unfinished paperwork and the weight of another long day.

You’d expect to be home after your shift, and you did…only to end up getting ready to leave the house again later that evening.

It was for some corporate event. A birthday celebration for an executive, or was it a fundraiser? You hadn’t paid much attention to it when it was brought up in last week’s meeting. Frankly, it was the last thing you’d want to be doing after a long workday like this.

And yet, here you are—back home, standing in front of the mirror, completely unaware of what the night has in store.

You’ve lost count of the outfit changes you’ve given yourself in the past hour. No one really specified what the dress code was for the event—so in the end, you simply resorted to a crimson piece that hung in your closet, blended in with the rest of your outfits.

The dress hugs your figure beautifully. It was sleek and elegant, but you barely feel like yourself in it. It’s not like you don’t like dressing up—on the contrary, you actually enjoy it, especially given that your clothes have now taken up space on your boyfriend’s side of the closet as well. But with the weight of today and this entire week overall, the exhaustion consuming you was making it harder to pretend that you want to be at this party at all.

Your phone buzzes beside you, the text message from Jayce lighting up the screen indicating that he was here.

You exhale through your nose, finishing the touches on your makeup before smoothing down the fabric of your dress. It’s not that anything’s wrong. Jayce has been nothing but kind and thoughtful to you. He’s said all the right things and treated you like royalty for the past two years of your relationship with him. But lately, there’s been something…off. Something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You shake the thought of it away, grabbing your coat and clutch before heading out the door. It’s just one night, right?

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It was only a ten minute ride to the hotel, but for some reason you felt like the ride dragged out longer. Maybe it was because of the downpour of rain, or the evening traffic, as it always is in New York—or maybe it was just your lingering anxieties about showing up to an event like this. As the top saleswoman in Hexcorp, and now the girlfriend to one of the CEOs, you can’t help but feel the pressure of having to make the best impression all the time.

Upon arriving at the hotel, the valet opens the car door for you, and Jayce steps out first, immediately offering you his hand as if he’s effortlessly playing the part of a perfect gentleman. You force a small smile and take his hand, stepping carefully onto the slick pavement as the two of you walk through the revolving door.

The inside of the hotel is a stark contrast to the gloom outside. It was elegant, with warm golden lights, crystal chandeliers, and the soft hum of music on the piano surrounding you the moment you entered. The air is thick with chatter and laughter as well dressed attendees mingle around with cocktails in hand.

Jayce keeps a steady hand on the small of your back as you both make your way deeper into the crowd, guiding you toward familiar faces. His touch is warm, but something about it feels…off. Too careful. Too practiced.

“Should we grab a drink?” he asks, yet he is already steering you towards the bar. You nod at his offer anyway, but your eyes wander.

And then you see her—your other boss.

Sevika.

Tall, broad, and impossible to miss, even in a room full of elites. She’s right across the bar, her suit tailored to perfection—coincidentally, it also was crimson, the same shade as your dress. The deep red fabric molds to her muscular frame, sharp lines hugging her body in all the right places. The top button of her shirt is undone, just enough to tease what lies underneath, and her posture is relaxed as ever, radiating effortless control. Her prosthetic arm gleams under the soft light, the intricate metal plating a sharp contrast to the rich fabric of her suit.

But she’s not alone.

Standing beside her is her fiancée, Mel Medarda.

But she doesn’t just stand there—she owns the space around her. A beautiful vision draped in a sleek, skin tight white gown that hugs her curves as if it were painted on. Gold jewelry glitters around her neck, and her perfectly manicured fingers rest lightly on Sevika’s arm in primal possession. And she sure doesn’t fail to show off the ring—a massive, dazzling marquise cut diamond perched proudly on her ring finger, glistening under the lights. Her skin glows alongside it, her rich brown complexion flawless, and her signature smirk tugs at the corners of her lips as if she knows every single person in the room is looking at her. As if she knows you’re looking at her.

That’s Mel Medarda for you. International supermodel. A walking fantasy who managed to get engaged with Sevika.

Your stomach twists, and you force yourself to look away before either of them can catch you staring. But your eyes betray you.

Because they find their way back to Sevika and Mel.

And Sevika?

She’s already looking at you.

You’re quick to pull your gaze away from Sevika’s, heart pounding a little harder than it should be. You’re not sure how long you’ve been staring, but the tension lingers in the air long after you look away.

A familiar hand wraps around yours, fully pulling you out of your thoughts as you look back up to see Jayce nudging a glass of champagne into your hand. “Come on, let’s make the rounds.” he urges gently.

You nod with a distracted smile as you take the glass of champagne and follow alongside him, but the memory of Sevika’s striking gray eyes on you stays in the back of your mind.

An hour passes, but you feel like you’ve been here for an eternity already. You’re forcing yourself to smile as one of your coworkers goes on about the latest sales report. You’ve been hearing about it for the past hour, but you’re barely listening. Your mind keeps drifting back to when you first saw Sevika and Mel at the bar. Something about the way Sevika’s eyes lingered on you still makes your heart race.

“Great numbers this quarter,” your coworker continues, pulling you back to reality. “You’ve really outdone yourself with the new client investment. They’re already asking about you by name.”

You nod absently, pretending to care as your eyes scan the around room for any sign of Jayce. He’d been glued to your side all evening, but now you can’t seem to find him at all.

“Thank you,” you say, shaking them off politely. “I’ll follow up with the clients about it tomorrow.”

They simply smile back before walking off to engage with another coworker. You take another sip of your champagne as your eyes continue to search the room. Your attention shifts as you overhear another conversation between two other coworkers near the bar, talking about next quarter’s sales targets. As the company’s top saleswoman, you’re used to these conversations being centered around you. They look over at you with admiration, always taking mental notes on your strategies and approach.

“She really knows how to close a deal.” one of them says. “She’s a shark.”

The compliment barely registers in your head. All you could do was smile, too distracted by the fact that Jayce was nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me,” you murmur, sliding past them as you start to brush through the crowd.

The search feels longer than it actually is. You weave through the crowd, giving polite smiles and dodging conversations as you slip through groups of colleagues and executives. The music and laughter fill the air, but none of it gets to you. Your mind is fixated on one thing—finding where the hell your boyfriend is.

You try to be in denial about it, telling yourself that you’re just overreacting. Maybe Jayce just stepped outside to take a call or grabbed another drink at the bar. But deep down, that unsettling feeling refuses to leave your system. You finally reach the bar, but there’s no sign of him there.

“Have you seen Jayce?” you ask over to the coworker who sat there.

They blink, looking around before shaking their head. “Uh, no…not for a while. Maybe he stepped out?”

You give them a quick nod, muttering a quiet thanks before moving on, the knot in your stomach tightening even more. Your heels click faster against the marble floor as you move toward the quieter area of the venue, the noise and chatter slowly fading away with each step you take. Down the hall, a row of private rooms stretches ahead, each of them closed except for the very last one at the end of the hallway. You walk slower now, feeling the air get thicker with each step. You shouldn’t be anxious about this.

And yet…you are.

Your fingers brush against the smooth surface of the champagne glass in your hand, your grip tightening instinctively around the flute. You tell yourself to relax, but the words do nothing to alleviate you from the uneasiness that was settling into your bones.

And that’s when you hear it—muffled voices in a low and urgent tone. At first, you think it’s just another couple hidden away in the room for privacy. But something about these voices feels…familiar. Too familiar.

You take another step forward, your pulse pounding louder in your ears with each beat. Your stomach twists once more when you see the familiar head of jet black hair in your eyeline. The door is slightly ajar, and a warm light spills into the hallway. You hesitate, your grip getting tighter on the glass as you listen.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Jayce mutters, his voice rough and raw. His head moves slightly, just enough for you to see a glimpse of her—a glimpse of Mel.

“And yet…” Mel replies, her voice soft and sultry as she pauses. “You keep coming back.”

A breathy chuckle escapes him, followed by his hand shifting through the open slit on Mel’s dress as he moves closer to her. “I can’t help myself,” Jayce murmurs, his voice lower now, filled with a kind of desire you’ve never heard from him. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Is that so?” Mel muses back, her voice laced with pure seduction. “Then why do you keep wasting time?”

Your heart sinks down to your stomach, body going rigid as the pieces fall into place. The way Jayce had been acting around you, all those ‘late nights’ he’d spend in the office—it all made sense now.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Jayce’s confession lingers in the air, his voice filled with desperation. “Even when I’m with her…all I think about is you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your heart shattering as the champagne class trembles in your hand. It wasn’t just what Jayce had said, it was how he said it—straightforward, no hesitation whatsoever. There was no guilt. Just raw, unfiltered honesty, spoken so easily it feels like the knife was plunging deeper into your chest.

Like he never even cared.

You feel your fingers going numb on the glass as the wave of realization crashes over you. The love, the trust, the loyalty—it makes you wonder if it had meant anything to him.

Or were you just convenient?

The thought burns in your brain, leaving an ache so deep that it makes it hard to breathe.

And yet, he doesn’t even notice.

“Jayce…we really shouldn’t…” Mel reminds him, her voice softer now.

He simply scoffs at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “Come on, Mel…you want this just as bad as I do.” he breathes out, and you hear the rustle of fabric between them—their clothes shifting as their bodies press closer.

And then—the kiss hits between them. It was slow, deep and desperate. Your vision blurs at the corners of your eyes, and you don’t even register the champagne flute slipping from your fingers, hitting the marble floor with a loud shatter that echoes throughout the hallway. Tiny shards of glass surround your stiletto-covered feet, but you’re too frozen, too numb to even notice.

However, the shatter startles them both, causing them to freeze instantly, their lips pulling apart as the sharp echo rang through the room. Their bodies go rigid as they slowly turn their heads toward the doorway. Mel’s eyes widen, a panicked expression crossing her face. Jayce’s breathing quickens, his heart rate rising once he sees you. His hands, which had been all over Mel just moments ago, twitch slightly at his sides as he steps back, his eyes still not taking off of you.

“Jayce?”

Your voice was soft and shaky as his name escaped your lips, but it was enough to make them freeze as the realization hit them. His lips part, but no words come out at first. Mel’s eyes flicker between the two of you, her body shifting towards Jayce in hopes of hiding away.

“It’s…it’s not what it looks like,” he finally breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper, panic and guilt filling his tone. The words hang in the air, completely meaningless to you—but you don’t respond, you just can’t.

Because even as he said it—you know he’s clearly lying.

Mel hasn’t said a word. She’s too busy avoiding your gaze, her lips slightly parted as if she’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes out. For a woman who’s career relies on confidence, she’s sure failing to show it at this exact moment.

You don’t move. Don’t blink. In fact, your mind doesn’t register anything else besides the scene that had unfolded in front of you. You don’t even notice the door now fully swung open beside you, or the sudden warmth that lingered right behind you. But you do see the shift in their faces—especially Mel’s—as the panic flashes deeper in her eyes.

“Mel?”

The name cuts through the air like a blade, and your stomach drops. That voice—deep, low, and now laced with pure fury—comes from behind you. Slowly, you turn around.

Sevika stands in the doorway now, her broad frame blocking out most of the light coming from the hall. Her expression is unreadable at first, but you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched as she tries, but fails to stay calm.

“Sevika…” Mel’s voice trembles, almost at the same level as Jayce.

But Sevika doesn’t respond. Not at first. Her eyes don’t leave Mel, dark with rage—as if she were a storm on the verge of breaking. Her presence looms behind you, grounding you in the chaos swarming around.

“What the fuck is this?” Sevika growls, her voice low and cold. Her eyes flicker between Mel and Jayce, taking in the way their bodies are still too close to each other. The way Mel’s hand lingered on Jayce’s chest before dropping down only heated the anger inside her even more.

It was her fiancée and her colleague—together, behind her back.

The room suddenly feels smaller to you now, almost suffocating. Your hands tremble at your sides, fingers curling into fists as an emotional mix of heartbreak and rage bubbles inside you. But your eyes stay locked on Jayce.

“How long?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet it was loud enough to cut through the tension. Jayce’s jaw clenches anxiously. His eyes are widened in a mix of desperation and cowardice, pleading silently for your mercy. “Babe…” he murmurs softly, as if that name could fix what was already beyond repair.

“How long, Jayce?” you repeat. Your voice is louder the second time, more stern and forceful. Jayce’s mouth opens again, but nothing comes out. He hesitates, his eyes flickering over to Mel for a split second. Big mistake.

You see it, and so did Sevika.

“Answer her fucking question, Jayce.” Sevika growls behind you, her tone low, almost threatening. “Don’t make her ask again.”

Jayce stiffens, swallowing hard, and finally looks back at you, letting out an exhale of defeat before responding. “A…a year.”

Your stomach drops.

You force out a breath, still in shock and disbelief over what you had just heard. “A year?” you shake your head, letting out a humorless laugh. “You’ve been sneaking around with her for a year, and you have the fucking nerve to tell me that it’s not what it looks like?”

The tears start to build in your eyes, and Jayce steps forward, but you take a quick step back. “Don’t.” you snap, your hands shaking. “I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

Sevika exhales sharply beside you, her arms crossed, trying to hold herself back. “This is fucking unbelievable,” she mutters, her eyes not leaving Jayce. “You’ve been lying to her for a year? And you…” her gaze snaps over to Mel. “What do you even have to say for yourself?”

Mel’s lips part, but no words come out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika lets out a laugh that was just as cold as yours. “I put a damn ring on your finger.”

Mel takes a step closer to her, a weak attempt in trying to redeem herself. “I-I had wanted to tell you—”

“Oh yeah?” Sevika scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “And when exactly were you going to tell me? After we got married?”

Mel’s lips part again, but the only sound that comes out is a shaky breath.

“What a fucking joke,” she mutters her gaze shifting between the two. “You’re both pathetic.”

Another shaky breath slips from Mel’s lips. “Sevika, darling please—”

“Save it.”

Sevika takes another step forward, her presence commanding the room. But this time, she doesn’t stop. Mel instinctively moves back, accidentally bumping into Jayce’s chest. His hands instinctively grab her shoulders to steady her, giving her a look of reassurance to make sure she was okay.

And that was the final straw for you.

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head as the realization crashes down harder. This was never just a mistake.

You glance at Sevika, and when your eyes meet with hers, there’s a newfound connection between you both. Without another word, you turn on your heel, your chest still tight as you pass by the three of them and leave the room. Sevika follows right after, her heavy footsteps matching yours as you step over the shattered glass and out of the room, leaving them both in the mess of their own betrayal.

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The days that followed from the incident felt like a blur.

You throw yourself into work, burying yourself in reports, emails, and endless meetings. You figured it’d be easier that way—keeping busy. If your mind is constantly occupied, then there wouldn’t be any time to think about him, right?

But regardless, it was impossible to ignore.

Jayce keeps his distance from you, both inside and outside of work. He’s been staying somewhere else in the meantime, you’re not sure if it’s with Mel, or back in his large family estate, but frankly, you couldn’t care less about his whereabouts. As for the office, he doesn’t try to talk to you. No apologies. No explanations. Just…silence.

You didn’t want to admit it, but that alone hurts more than if he had tried.

Of course, you’ve still maintained your position in Hexcorp as top saleswoman, but even that feels empty to you now. Your numbers are still flawless, but the passion, the drive that used to push you forward in your career—it was gone. It honestly even makes you question why you’re still here in this building, or even New York as a whole. Deep down, it makes you wish that you could find yourself an escape from this.

And that sign was given to you just a couple of days ago.

You had broken the news to your parents over the phone. It was quite the shock to them—they’d mostly see you together with Jayce on holidays, but given how he always carried himself and the way he treated you, this was the last thing they ever expected.

But what hurt them the most was hearing just how broken you sounded when you told them.

“I just…I don’t get it,” your voice cracked, and you blinked back tears as your grip tightened on your phone. “How could he do this to me?”

“Oh, mija…I’m so sorry.” your mom’s voice had been soft when you told her, but it had the kind of heaviness that only came from a mother hearing her child in pain. You tried to keep your words to a minimum, tried to hold yourself together, but the more you tried to speak, the harder it was to keep you from breaking.

Your dad was silent for a moment before his voice came through the phone, steady but laced with a subtle hint of anger. “You know, I never liked that Talis boy to begin with.”

You can hear the soft tsk your mom gives to your dad, but you can hear the frustration in her voice too.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he grumbled, his tone softening after a second. “You deserve better, kid. So much better.”

There’s a quick pause before your mother speaks again. “Why don’t you go stay over at the beach house for a while?” your mom suggested gently, her voice warm and comforting. “Spend some time in Miami, clear your head. “Your relatives are close by if you need anything, and I’m sure your abuela would love to see you too.”

You pause for a moment to think over your mother’s suggestion. The beach house was your childhood escape—sitting along the Miami shore where the sun was always warmer and the waves would effortlessly wash your worries away. It was nothing like New York, where the chilly, heavy atmosphere was harder to breathe in.

However, you couldn’t risk the chances of losing your job for being gone for so long. But deep down, maybe this was what you really needed—a sweet escape, a place where you can truly heal your heart and ground yourself back to your roots.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

You take a deep breath, nodding to yourself as your grip now relaxes on your phone. “You’re right,” you murmur softly, the words leaving your lips before you even realize it. “I could really use something like that right now.”

Your mother’s relieved sigh comes through the line, and your father’s quiet agreement follows right after. “I’m so glad to hear that,” she says gently. “You deserve a break from this, mija.”

“Hey, get some rest, alright?” your dad chimes. “And call us as soon as you get there.”

“I will,” you promise, voice barely above a whisper now.

The call ends with quiet goodbyes, leaving you now sitting in the dim, quiet space of the house you once shared with Jayce. The silence feels heavier here—every room still holds traces of the life you built together, yet it all feels so distant now.

You take a deep breath, reaching over for your laptop before bringing it onto your lap, and without a second thought, you book yourself a one-way ticket to Miami—far away from the chaos that was suffocating you in New York.

And once that’s done, there’s only one thing left to do—write out your leave of absence letter and leave it on Sevika’s desk first thing tomorrow morning.

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The next morning, the familiar buzz of the office surrounds you, but it all feels like background noise. You’re at your desk, staring blankly at your computer screen as you zone out into the unfinished spreadsheet on the screen. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jayce and Sevika step out of their shared office and head toward the conference room down the hall. You couldn’t help but keep your gaze on Sevika for a little longer. She looks composed on the outside, but you can see it—the slight tension in her shoulders, the quiet exhaustion in her eyes—she’s holding it together just like you. You look away before she notices you, swallowing down the ache in your chest as they leave.

Once you made sure they were gone, you clutch the letter into your hand as you push back your chair and stand. Your footsteps are quiet as you pass by your busy coworkers and make your way toward their shared office, the door left slightly ajar enough for you to slip inside. Your eyes land on Sevika’s side of the office, the dark wood of her desk reflecting the soft light filtering in through the windows. You take a step toward it, unfolding the letter in front of you to place it on her desk. However, you couldn’t help but notice the soft, navy velvet box quietly sitting on the surface. Your heart skips a beat, knowing exactly what it is without even having to open it.

The engagement ring.

Mel had already given it back.

The box is closed, yet the weight of what it holds feels heavy in the air. Your mind flashes back to that night, to the look on Sevika’s face when she saw Mel with Jayce together. The devastation in her eyes, masked by fury—seeing her hurt you more than when you had seen them. You let out a shaky breath, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against the edge of your letter, but before you can set it down—

“Leaving something for me?”

The deep, unmistakable voice sends a chill down your spine. You freeze, eyes widening as your body goes rigid. Your heart pounds in your chest as panic starts to settle into your bones.

Slowly, you turn around. Sevika stands in the doorway, her tall frame effortlessly filling the space around her. Her expression is unreadable, but her sharp eyes are locked on the letter in your hand.

“Sevika, I-I was just—”

Her brow arches slightly as she shuts the door and steps further into the office, her gaze not leaving yours.

“What’s that?”

Her voice is calm, but you couldn’t ignore the tension behind it. The panic continues to fill up inside you as you instinctively pull the letter closer to your chest, as if that was going to shield it away from her. “It’s…it’s nothing,” you murmur, but the crack in your voice betrays you. Her eyes narrow down to the paper in your hand, and before you can move her hand reaches out, flesh fingers brushing over yours as she gently but firmly takes the letter from your grip.

“Sevika, wait—”

But it’s too late. Her eyes scan the words on the page, her brows furrowing deeper with each passing second as she reads through the letter. You see her jaw tighten, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard. “Leave of absence?” she asks, slowly setting the letter down and bringing her gaze back up to you. “You’re…you’re leaving?”

Your throat tightens, unsure of what else to say. “I was going to tell you,” you murmur softly, looking down at your feet, unable to meet her gaze. “I just…I need some time.”

“Why?”

You can hear the concern in her voice—a hint of vulnerability that you’ve never heard from her before. You finally look up, your eyes meeting hers. “Because I can’t do this anymore.”

Her eyes darken with uncertainty. “Do what?”

You swallow, heart painfully thrumming against your ribs. “Be here. Pretend that everything’s okay when it’s not.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you don’t notice Sevika’s gaze softening when you look over to Jayce’s side of the office. “Jayce and I...We built a life together. And now, it’s gone.” Your voice cracks, and you blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay as you look back at her. “Every corner of this place reminds me of what I just lost. I just…I need to get away. To breathe. To heal.”

Her jaw clenches, her eyes flickering away from yours for a moment. “It’s just…” She hesitates, running a hand down her face before exhaling a breath that sounds heavier than it should. “You’re my best saleswoman.” Her voice is quieter now, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself of something. “I can’t afford to lose you.”

But it was never about the numbers. Not when it came to you. You know there’s more to it—something deeper. You can feel it in the way her gaze lingers on you, in the way her body gets just a little too tense, as if she’s holding something back.

“I’m not…” Your voice trails off to a sigh as you shake your head. “I’m not quitting, Sevika. I just need some time. Please.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The air between you is heavy, the silence in the room stretching longer than it should.

“How long?” she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blouse. “But I…I need this.”

Sevika doesn’t speak right away. Her expression is unreadable as she looks at you, but before you can process it—before you can say anything else—she moves toward you. Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into a firm but careful embrace.

Your breath catches in your throat. Sevika has never been the type of person to do gestures like this. She’s never been the comforting, reassuring presence in someone’s life—at least, not in this way. But right now, she holds you close to her like she’s afraid to let you go, like she knows how much you need this more than you do. Your eyes squeeze shut as you clutch the fabric of her suit jacket, your fingers curling into the cotton tightly to keep you grounded.

“I get it,” she murmurs, her voice softer now. “Believe me, I do.”

Her words send another shiver down your spine, because she does get it.

Mel. The woman she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with.

You exhale shakily, pressing your forehead against her shoulder. “Then you of all people should know why I have to go.”

Sevika’s arms tighten around you just for a second before she finally releases you, stepping back just enough to meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her jaw tight as she watches you carefully. “I know.”

But that doesn’t mean that she wants you to go. Her eyes still linger on yours, and something shifts between you. Sevika looks at you like she’s fighting a battle within herself—like she’s trying to hold herself back from doing something that she may—or may not regret.

“Sevika…” you whisper, your voice quiet enough to break the silence between you.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. But her eyes—they tell you everything. You feel it before you see it—the way she leans in, her body instinctively drawn to yours like a magnet. It’s slow, almost hesitant, as if she's giving you an open chance to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t.

Instead, your hand drifts up, brushing lightly over her jaw. She tilts her head towards your palm, melting into your touch. Her eyes flutter shut for a brief movement before they open again—darker, filled with something you can’t describe.

And then, the distance between you two disappears. Her lips meet yours, and the world seems to fall away. The kiss is tentative at first, making you both afraid to take too much from each other. But the tension is quick to snap, and suddenly, the kiss deepens. Her flesh hand slides around the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as she pulls you closer. The cool metal of her prosthetic rests against your waist, grounding you in the moment. Your body presses into hers, and you feel like this should be wrong, but it doesn’t. On the contrary, it feels…right. Like this is where you’re meant to be instead. It’s nothing compared to how you’ve felt with Jayce. You absolutely lose yourself in her—her touch, her taste, the way she holds you like you’re something precious. Like you’re exactly where she wants to be."

She finally pulls back, breathless and dazed, her forehead resting gently against yours. “I really don’t want you to go…” Sevika murmurs, the desperation in her voice tugging at your heart. Your thumb brushes along her jaw again, a bittersweet smile spread on your lips. “I know,” you whisper, eyes searching hers. “But I have to.”

“Well, in that case…” Sevika replies, her thumb lightly brushing over your bottom lip as her eyes darken with intent. Her lips curl into a sly smirk, her gaze burning into yours. “Let me give you a proper goodbye.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can even think, her lips crash into yours again. Unlike the last one, this kiss is more desperate, filled with everything the both of you have been holding back for far too long. Her flesh hand grips your waist firmly, pulling you flush against her, while the hard press of her prosthetic along your hip sends a shiver through you. Her lips move with a hunger that makes your knees weak. But you couldn’t give in like this.

“Sevika…” you manage to breathe out her name between heated kisses, your lips barely parting from hers. But she hears it.

And as much as it kills you, you pull back. Your eyes meet hers—her pupils dilated with desire, but there’s hesitation filling in yours. “We…we can’t.” Your voice is shaky and uncertain. “Jayce and Mel…it isn’t right…”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away. Her forehead simply rests against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “No…” she murmurs softly, her voice low but firm. “They’re the ones who threw it all away. It’s their loss, not ours.”

Your eyes widen slightly as her words sink in, but she doesn’t give you a chance to pull away. Her gaze is more intense now, searching yours for any sense of doubt. But there’s something else in her eyes—something raw, vulnerable, and aching for you just as much as you ache for her. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now, but there’s so much behind her words.

And in that moment, you know she’s right. The weight of the heartbreak, betrayal, and confusion still lingers, but now it all fades away with you being in her arms. Her lips claim yours once more, and the heat inside you ignites all over again. Her hands slide down your back, guiding you as she walks you backward across the room. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you don’t stop her. Not this time.

The edge of the desk presses against the backs of your thighs, and her hands are already pushing everything aside, sending papers and pens scattering to the floor. Sevika lifts you up effortlessly in one smooth motion, placing you on the desk as her lips refuse to leave yours.

However, neither of you realize where you’ve really ended up—Jayce’s desk.

But at this moment, with Sevika’s hands all over you and her lips claiming yours…none of it matters.

Sevika presses her body against yours, pinning you to the desk as she stands between your parted legs. You can feel every hard inch of her muscular frame, the heat of her skin radiating through her suit. Sevika pulls back slightly, her lips trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You tilt your head back to give her better access, and a soft moan slips from your mouth once she nips at your pulse point, her teeth grazing your soft skin before she soothes the sting with her tongue.

You’re barely able to keep your balance on the desk, your breath shallow as her touch stirs something deep inside you. Your eyes dart to the closed blinds, the faint silhouettes of your coworkers just outside, completely unaware of what’s happening behind them. Your heart starts to race—not from desire, but from the undeniable risk of it all. It feels like you’re playing with fire, and yet…you can’t help but take the heat.

“S-Sevika,” you murmur, trying to steady your breathing. “We—someone could see—”

Sevika cuts your sentence off instantly with a hushed, teasing whisper. “Shh…” she breathes, her voice low. “If you stay quiet…then no one will know.”

She leans in, kissing you hard while her hand works quickly to unbutton your slacks, pushing them down to your ankles. “You need this, baby, I know you do.” Her voice is a low rasp, sending shivers down your spine that makes her see right through you. "Stop overthinking, and just let me take care of you.”

To emphasize her point, her flesh hand shifts from your slacks to underneath your blouse, her warm fingertips brushing over your stomach as it moves up north. She cups your breast, her thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin lace of your bra. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching into her touch. Sevika takes advantage of this and trails kisses down your chest, pushing your blouse up as she goes. She tugs your bra down, freeing your breasts to the cool air of the office. Then, in an instant, she leans down and takes one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking and biting at the sensitive bud, eliciting a whine from your lips over the sensation. Her hand slides back down your stomach, fingers now toying with the waistband of your underwear. She looks up at you, waiting for your permission to continue, to which you nod in approval.

With that, she hooks her fingers and shifts your underwear to the side, exposing your pussy to her. She leans back, using two fingers to part open your puffy folds only to be taken aback by how wet you were. “God, baby…you’re this wet for me already?” she mutters, gently sliding her fingers through your wet slit. You reply to her with a whiny nod, gently rutting your hips against the pads of her fingers for more. She simply chuckles at your desperate pleas, gently inserting a finger into your hole but only to be surprised when she sees how you resist her single finger. “Fuck, you’re so tight…” she pants out, carefully trying to push more of her finger in. “When was the last time someone touched you like this?”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you hesitate. But the truth weighs heavier than the silence between you. “Too long…” you finally breathe, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes trail away from her, a flash of frustration and sadness crossing your face. “Jayce…he hasn’t—” your words falter with a sudden gasp when Sevika pushes her finger farther inside you. She brings her metal hand up to your jaw, the smooth yet unyielding grip making you face her. “His loss,” she mutters, lips brushing against yours again. “How about you let me remind you how it’s supposed to feel, yeah?"

Sevika doesn't falter just yet, she starts to work her finger in and out of your tight cunt, slowly at first but gradually increasing force once you become used to the resistance. Her thumb meets with your clit, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub as she continues to pump her finger in and out of your pussy. You whine and begin to squirm and shake at the sensation, but Sevika is quick to slide her prosthetic hand on your waist, keeping you grounded onto the desk as the cool wooden surface presses against your skin. She then adds another finger in, scissoring them inside you as her thumb continues its assault on your clit. You whine at the stretch, unable to take it, but your body starts to betray you by giving the opposite response—sucking Sevika’s fingers further inside rather than resisting. The wet squelching sounds of her fingers plunging into your soaked cunt fill the office, mixing with your restrained whines and the harsh pants of her own breathing.

“S-Sevika,” you whine, trying to wriggle yourself away. “I-I can’t…t-too much…”

“Too much?” Sevika chuckles against your skin, her fingers still working into your cunt. “Then why’s your greedy little cunt begging me for more?” Her gaze drops down to your pussy, admiring at how your desperate hole continues to suck her fingers in while your arousal drips around them. “Needy girl, taking in my fingers like this,” her gaze flickers back up to you. “I’m gonna need these back, you know. Can’t keep them forever, sweetheart.”

All you can do is whine and whimper, your chest and stomach tightening as you try to keep yourself quiet so as to not startle your coworkers outside. But Sevika doesn’t make it any easier for you once she speeds up the pace, the desk shifting slightly beneath you as if it was imitating the consequences of what you’re doing. The thought of Jayce sitting here tomorrow, completely unaware of what happened on his desk today, makes a dangerous thrill pulse through your veins. Jayce might have carried your past, but Sevika was putting herself into your present, claiming you as hers with every deep curl of her fingers, making sure your body never forgets the feeling of her.

She looks back up at you, her eyes darkening as she watches your face twist in pleasure. Your cunt begins to clench tighter around her fingers, along with the coil that's been winding deep in your stomach, you were getting close, and Sevika could tell. Her fingers never stop their relentless pace, pumping in and out of your clenching heat, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. She glances back up at you just to admire the drunk look on your face. “Look at you, so desperate to cum already, yeah?” she muses, her prosthetic shifting from your waist to push down on your lower stomach, only making it worse for you to restrain yourself. “Go on, sweetheart, cum for me. But remember…” she trails off, jerking her head over to the closed blinds. “They don’t need to know what’s going on.”

Her words are filthy, but they only serve to turn you on more, pushing you closer to your impending release. Your hand grips tightly onto the edge of the desk while the other claws at Sevika’s forearm in desperation, which does nothing but spur her on with her words. At this point, she’s practically begging for you to cum now, just so she can see you fall apart for her. “That’s it, baby—don’t hold back. Let me feel it. Come for me, sweetheart.”

Her words, combined with the relentless pace of her fingers, finally push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cunt clamps down around her fingers like a vice. Your mouth parts open, body giving in as you’re tempted to scream her name, but Sevika is quick to lean in and attach her lips back to yours, muffling your cries of pleasure as your release gushes into her fingers and onto the desk. But she doesn’t let up just yet, working you through your orgasm with her fingers until you’re a shaking, mewling mess beneath her.

Once the aftershocks start to subside, she finally slows down, gently withdrawing her flesh fingers out of your sensitive cunt. She brings her hand up to her lips, making a show of licking your juices from her fingers, her eyes closing in bliss as she savors your taste. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” she murmurs, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face. “I should’ve used my mouth on you instead if I knew you were going to taste this sweet.”

You chuckle lazily, looking up at her with heavy eyes as you recover from your orgasm. “Well, you can go for seconds if you’d like, Sev.” you tease, kicking off your heels and bunched up slacks from your feet before spreading your legs farther out to her, leaving your fucked out cunt on full display to her gaze. Sevika’s eyes darken at your newfound position, getting nothing but more turned on at the sight of you spread out on her colleague’s desk. She glances down to your cunt, her smirk spreading wider as she sees your release pooling underneath you, darkening the wood of the desk. “You’ve sure made a mess, pretty girl,” she says, her voice almost accusatory as if she wasn’t the one who made you cum like that. “Luckily, I’m willing to clean that up for you.”

In an instant, Sevika drops to her knees in front of you, hooking her flesh arm beneath your thigh while her prosthetic grips the other, pulling you closer. Your breath hitches as Sevika lowers herself in front of you, her hold firm—one soft and warm, the other cold and unrelenting. Her lips tease their way back up to your pussy, ready to satisfy you once more, until—

“Where’s Sevika?”

Jayce’s words echo faintly from the hallway, distant but close enough to send a jolt of panic through your veins. Sevika freezes for just a second before quickly getting back up on her feet. The two of you scramble around—adjusting clothes, fixing hair, cleaning down the surface and scattering papers in your desperate attempt to make it look like nothing happened on this desk.

But Sevika already moves before you can think of a backup plan. With full precision, she snatches up the paperwork she was originally looking for, strides across the office, and yanks the door open right before Jayce can.

“You were supposed to wait in the conference room,” she growls, her tone now back to cold as she shoves the paperwork into his chest.

Jayce blinks, caught off guard by her appearance. “I—I was just—”

“Don’t.” Her jaw clenches, eyes narrowing down at him. “Go. Now.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. As Jayce turns, footsteps retreating down the hall, Sevika lingers for just a second before glancing back inside—her eyes meeting yours. The heat from moments ago still lingers between you, but with one last knowing smirk, she follows after Jayce before closing the door shut, as if nothing had happened.

And you?

You’re still gripping the edge of his desk, breath unsteady, pulse still racing. Even as you slip your clothes back on, even as you straighten up Jayce’s desk—you can still feel the heat from Sevika on your body. Your lips are still slightly swollen from her kisses, your skin tingling in places that haven’t felt alive in…well, longer than you’d care to admit. You swallow hard, your mind replaying every breathless second. Your cheeks flush again, and your hands tremble slightly as you reposition Jayce’s things—only to realize it’s still out of place.

Get it together.

Your hands work quickly, smoothing out the papers, straightening the chair, making sure there’s no trace of what just happened. The last thing you need is Jayce walking in and sensing something.

No one can know.

Your fingers graze your pulse point, still feeling the phantom pressure of her lips there. You swallow down the feeling, force your hands to stay busy—tidying the last of the evidence, pressing a shaky hand to your chest, forcing a deep breath—before you finally slip out of the office, your head spinning.

And yet, as you settle back at your desk, pretending like nothing happened, you can still feel her on you.

But what’s even worse than feeling her…is wanting it to happen a second time.

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘

The sun barely peeks through your curtains when your alarm blasts through the silence. Your eyes snap open, heart pounding as you fumble to shut it off. You squint over at the time on your phone, only for your eyes to quickly widen in panic. You were supposed to be up an hour ago.

In an instant, you throw off the covers, the chill of the morning air making your skin prickle with goosebumps as you rush to get ready. As you take a quick shower and get dressed, your mind is still foggy from everything that happened yesterday—leaving the office, Sevika, the kiss, and the overwhelming decision to leave. But there’s no time to think about that now.

Your suitcase is already half-packed from last night, so you grab the last of your things and shove them into your bag without thinking twice. You barely glance in the mirror before you’re out the door, heart pounding in your ears. The taxi sits on the curb, waiting for God knows how long—and you rush into it, not even bothering to comfortably put your suitcase in the trunk and squeezing it alongside you instead. The city itself is still waking up as you slide into the backseat.

“Kennedy Airport,” you mumble, barely able to catch your breath as the driver nods and pulls into traffic.

Rain taps lightly against the window as you stare outside, the familiar skyline of New York blurred by streaks of water. This is it. You were getting away from the city that had been your home for years—where you built a career and nurtured a relationship, only to watch it all fall apart in the blink of an eye. You lean back against the seat, your eyes drifting shut for just a moment, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. But her face still flashes in your mind.

Sevika.

The memory of her kiss, her touch—heated, desperate, and impossible to forget—continues to linger in your mind. But nonetheless you shake your head, forcing the thought away as you tell yourself that it’s not what you need right now.

By the time you arrive at the airport, it’s nothing but chaos. You navigate through the sea of travelers, heart pounding as you sprint toward your gate. Your boarding pass feels like it’s burning in your hand as you rush through security, your pulse racing with every step.

Until you finally make it to Gate 17, departing to Miami.

You make it just as they begin the final boarding call, breathless and slightly disoriented. The agent barely glances up as they scan your ticket, giving you a quick nod to proceed. Your pace is calmer now as you walk through the ramp, the relief extending into peace the moment you enter the plane. As you set your carry-on into the overhead compartment and settle into your window seat, a shaky exhale slips from your mouth as your body finally relaxes. Your pulse slows, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you finally let yourself breathe.

You’re even blessed to have an empty seat beside you, thank God.

You close your eyes, head resting lightly against the head cushion of the seat. The distant hum of the engines vibrates through you, lulling your body into a sense of calm. A sense of peace. You don’t even register the measured footsteps approaching, growing heavier until they stop beside you. You don’t open your eyes right away, too caught up in the quiet you were finally starting to enjoy. But then—

Your name is called. And the familiar voice makes your heart stop. Your eyes flutter back open, head tilting to your left only for the calm in your body to be replaced by an element of surprise and shock once you see the familiar broad frame that stood in the narrow space alongside you.

“Sevika?”

Her name leaves your lips barely above a breath, but it’s enough to make her eyes darken. Her expression is unreadable, but the subtle flicker of surprise in her gaze says enough.

She didn’t know. You didn’t tell her where you were going.

And yet… she’s here.

And in that moment, as she finally lowers herself into the seat beside you, you know—

This changes everything.

But maybe, just maybe…some change is exactly what you needed.

- a/n: i need to stop making my fics so damn long omg 😭 i’m not sure if y’all fw ceo sevika like i do, but i could try to write out a part 2 if it catches any interest, we’ll see…

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ciel-of-vault-111 · 6 months ago

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Fuck it

Notes game

Limit 3 notes per person Notes cap is now 10

I’ll try my best to follow up on this with results but I may forget

10 notes: touch grass DONE

30 notes: try and care abt my schoolwork IN PROGRESS

50 notes: get more sleep DONE

100 notes: come out to my extended family IN PROGRESS

120 notes: find another reason to live (I have 2 rn and desperately need more) DONE

150 notes: engage more with my irl friends DONE

200 notes: get over my fear of clickers (long story) DONE

300 notes: stop hating myself IN PROGRESS

SECRET GOAL UNLOCKED!!! 420 NOTES: I’ll eat a weed or whatever ppl do idk I don’t get high (this is a joke for the record) DONE

500 notes: ascend to the heavens and rain hellfire upon my enemies (this is a joke I don’t think we make it this far) DONE

690 notes: Nice DONE

1000 notes: become god DONE

KNEEL BEFORE YOUR NEW GODDESS!!!

THE RUTUAL HAS BEEN COMPLETED!!!! NOW IVE ASCENDED BEYOND THIS MORTAL PLAIN (thx to everyone who helped me get this far you all are incredible and I am forever indebted to you)

STRETCH GOALS (adding these bc I wanna keep the game goin it’s rly fun for me)

1100 notes: start planing to take over the world of gods DONE the plan has been formulated

1200 notes: kill the first god and take their power DONE he didn’t even see it coming >:3

1300 notes: kill the second god and take their power DONE soon I shall ascend

1400 notes: kill the third god and take their power DONE new power flows through me

1500 notes: use the power of the slain gods to gain domain over everything and rule as god-queen of the universe DONE now bow before the god queen of the universe >:3

(It would be so funny if I got this far)

MORE STRETCH GOALS BC WHY NOT

1600 notes: transcend the fabric of existence DONE I see all now… e v e r y t h I n g

1700 notes: start a new religion centered around worshiping me as god queen of the universe DONE they truly adore me >:3

1800 notes: use my godly abilities and swaths of followers to prevent the events of March 18 2027 from transpiring DONE The leader of the revolution is safe from the queen of the British Empire part 2

1900 notes: use my power to grant godhood to my favored mortals (all my mutuals) and my chosen companion (my gf) so we may live forever as the new pantheon of gods DONE@tomhiddlestonsangel @toogaytofunctiondangit @toppettehat @here-queer-drowning-in-fear @trans-fem-menace @perfectfangirl @trans-fem-menace @andychaosblog y’all are gods now :3 welcome to the club

2000 notes: make a new planet at the end of everything to call home and live out the rest of eternity with my gf and my army of devoted followers. This planet’s name shall be determined by one of your suggestions (I chose what I think is funny) DONE!!!! Omfg I actually got this far lmao I never thought I would

2500 notes: I make this into a comic or smth like that :3

#notes game

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allenwalkersworld · 1 year ago

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I honestly find it so freaking rude that they’re trying to sideline Amandla. Manny said he couldn’t have done it without her and yet people want a show where it only focuses on him. Like wtf.

I keep seeing people wanting a show focused on Qimir since The Acolyte is now cancelled. Why would you even want that especially with how Amandla has been treated, and how Disney never stood up for her? Do you know how insulting the optics would be and what message that would send?

I don't understand why anyone would even suggest this cos it's so upsetting. We get it, Qimir is your favourite character. He's the one who made you tune in with all the edits and Tiktok reactions cos he's sooo hot. Osha was merely a self-insert for your fantasies.

My deepest wish is that Manny doesn't pander to this nonsense incase they do try to make a Qimir series, cos he of all people should know what it's like to be edited/written out of a story where you should have been.

#people always like to forget about black women #I’m happy that Manny is receiving so much love but it’s honestly disgusting to see how y’all are treating Amandla #osha x qimir #osha aniseya #qimir #Oshamir #I’m tired of black women who are take on leading MCs always get treated like side characters #and what happens if I say y’all really don’t give a flying fuck about black women #honestly tho am I surprised smh

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kithtaehyung · 8 months ago

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minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far?

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy?

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand.

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs.

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table.

This man, though...

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams?

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.”

Fuck.

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question,

“Do you remember yours?”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea.

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone.

He still remembers it, too.

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room.

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not?

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.”

Your eyes blink thrice.

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know?

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.”

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair.

“So tell me.”

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.”

“You can.”

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—”

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?”

Damn it.

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales.

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch.

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.”

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice?

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..”

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question.

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over.

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.”

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.”

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this.

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave—

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.”

Oh, shit.

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?”

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space.

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm.

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?”

It takes you a second to process.

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior.

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close?

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were.

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?”

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal.

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying,

“You really wanna know?”

Looking up, you nod.

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.”

“His.. What?”

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this?

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.”

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to…

How naive.

“His plan could’ve been solid.”

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone.

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.”

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself.

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter.

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.”

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?”

“Someone he royally pissed off.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not gonna punish him?”

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.”

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore.

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Great.

So much for being… Safe up… here…

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again.

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave?

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.”

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed.

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders,

“Can’t believe you used me.”

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.”

Fucking hell, he’s right.

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.”

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.”

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared.

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall.

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.”

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not.

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back.

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe.

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time.

“Tell me more. About grey zones.”

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react.

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets.

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh.

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely—

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth.

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs,

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.”

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.”

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.”

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly.

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing.

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans.

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze.

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy.

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.”

“Why only in certain ones?”

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.”

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.”

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain.

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.”

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.”

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.”

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place.

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you.

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along.

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things.

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle.

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis.

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment.

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.”

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.”

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.”

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer.

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him,

“But it’s helping.”

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold.

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.”

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I might.”

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.”

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?”

Yoongi turns to look at your lips.

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say.

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this.

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.”

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.”

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.”

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing.

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?”

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance.

“You tell me.”

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating.

You’ve never felt quite like this.

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be.

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before.

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying.

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over.

And yet.

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch.

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum.

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him.

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.”

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.”

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness.

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second?

“Since you what.”

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip.

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.”

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was.

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes.

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over.

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute.

There was something you never circled back to.

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered,

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?”

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.”

“Prove it.”

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire.

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets.

But because the motherfucker was right on the money.

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know?

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want.

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning?

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.”

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?”

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself.

And it’s perfect.

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.”

“Keep it.”

What?

“It’s yours.”

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence.

Who even is this man?

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.”

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.”

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?”

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.”

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.”

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.”

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.”

“But I want to.”

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.”

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod.

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds.

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started.

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over.

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city.

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?”

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.”

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.”

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.”

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.”

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else.

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.”

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.”

“You never bothered me.”

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.”

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?”

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.”

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.”

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor.

“Yoongi?”

He turns.

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer.

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest.

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown.

“Not much to tell.”

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in.

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises.

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips.

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours.

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops.

Sounds muffle.

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side.

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door.

It’s a phone ringing.

A fucking. Telephone.

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him.

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved.

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room.

Shit.

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up.

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off.

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim.

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt.

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse?

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.”

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.”

“Nothing.”

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade.

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.”

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger?

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up.

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns.

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause.

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid.

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole.

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat.

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.”

“Yoongi—”

“Say it and it’s yours.”

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.”

“How.”

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…”

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking.

Tell him. Four words.

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter.

“So sensitive..”

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return.

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?”

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing?

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss.

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease.

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”

“But what if someone—”

“They won’t.”

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side.

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick.

Your very, very wet slick.

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices.

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.”

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth.

Sucking.

Licking.

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars.

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles.

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want.

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two.

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point.

“You good?”

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.”

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?”

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.”

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.”

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by.

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now.

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real?

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?”

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!”

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover.

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck!

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other.

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.”

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like.

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him.

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name.

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze.

“Move your fucking hand.”

Your eyes fling wide.

“I wanna hear you.”

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest.

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes.

“You’re gonna scream for me.”

“Or else what.”

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder.

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.”

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes.

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed.

Like a normal person.

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms.

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half.

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent.

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper,

“I wanna see you.”

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor.

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid.

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent.

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.”

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.”

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.”

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.”

…Huh?

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.”

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense.

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.”

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course.

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.”

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling.

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else.

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint.

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you.

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin.

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward.

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip.

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.”

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts.

Fucking hell, this feels good.

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off.

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right.

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.”

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next.

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.”

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning.

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare.

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton.

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.”

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat.

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall.

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.”

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out.

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?”

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.”

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with.

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.”

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.”

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied.

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.”

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.”

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?”

“Yes.”

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.”

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.”

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses.

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.”

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.”

“Good girl.”

Wait, did he say again?

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move.

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs.

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.”

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank.

Your laugh only spurns him on.

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes.

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go.

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed.

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.”

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged.

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.”

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat.

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward.

“Just felt like calling you that.”

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.”

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it.

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.”

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.”

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!”

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest.

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He can’t say stuff like that.

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest.

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling.

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock.

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck.

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.”

“Show me more then.”

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours.

“Just like that. There you go.”

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you?

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad.

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.”

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home.

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise.

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears.

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.”

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell.

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives.

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good?

Both of you may feel the same.

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you.

It’s done.

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller.

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom.

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever.

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder.

Was it all worth it?

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have?

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for.

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp.

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum.

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.”

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.”

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself?

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion.

“What?”

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.”

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?”

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.”

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt.

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily.

And both of you groan so full.

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.”

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry.

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again?

Holy fuck, again?

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside.

Was it all worth it?

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case.

But it’s okay.

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for.

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling.

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away.

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper,

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.”

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer,

“S’ok.”

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin.

“Just stay on your side.”

Ah.

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night.

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals.

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows.

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference.

Don’t think too much about it. Do not.

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...”

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts.

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact.

“You’ll always hate me.”

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in.

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs.

Did last night really happen?

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so.

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is.

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one.

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home?

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean.

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over.

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes.

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..”

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants.

Yoongi isn’t here.

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts.

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door?

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths.

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds?

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder.

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do.

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture.

What the hell is going on?

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall.

And his hair is strikingly…

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!”

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question,

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?”

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?”

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#FINALLY FINALLY #5000 words in two days just wanted to say i love y'all #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #ryenwrites #minted #minted3 #*ryenfictalk #*latest

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eureka-its-zico · 1 month ago

Text

Residuals Pt. 7.5

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok, the slowest of the burns because we gotta work for it, ok? 😘

A/N: Originally, I was just going to make this chapter a big beefy boy, like always, but I figured I would break episode 5 up into two parts mostly because y’all have been patiently waiting for an update and this chapters a bit…emotionally heavy (honestly, when isn’t this whole series and show NOT emotionally heavy???) But Jake makes an appearance in the next part, and so does a certain Irish officer who comes back to make his big debut return lol, and the side plotting gets plotting, so... I give you this small piece of heartbreak lol. Also, words cannot express how eternally grateful I am for all the continued support, love, and kindness you’ve all shown me and this fic. It means the world. Much Love, Jenn

P.s. thank you to @viridian-dagger for her continuous trust in letting me use and mention her character in this chapter and the next from her Abbot fic🖤

Warnings: Mentions of death, language, infant death, mentions of abuse, ptsd, mild sexual content (under eighteen do not enter)

Words: 6.9+

Previous I Next

11:00 AM - 12:00 PM

For the second time that morning, you found your sanctuary outside amongst potted generic flowers of vibrant violets and orange hues, shaded beneath the hangar of the ambulance bay.

It wasn’t quiet or oozing with serenity - you weren’t sure you’d survive if it was. The sounds of sirens rang out in the distance, foreshadowing the next ambulance coming with another patient. Someone new. Someone in need of the help that - what sometimes felt like only you - could give. You’d sworn an oath to be that doctor who saved lives and, damn it all, you wanted to be the superhero doctor you imagined you could be back in med school. Swooping in at their patients’ bedside to administer comfort and knowledge of the body through science, with a compassion to heal a broken spirit and an aching heart.

Sometimes, it was easy for doctors to forget about the patient's minds until a CT came back with something worrisome. They could forget that outside of the body, it was the place where the chokehold of fear and worry took root and gripped patients the moment they came inside these walls. They didn’t need their doctor to be their friend, but they did need comfort of a different sort.

Robby was good at that - being both doctor and caregiver.

These patients needed you, and you could be what they needed, an unmovable force to read test results, fix broken bones, and treat life-threatening wounds. All of it was easy because it relies on science and medicine to get you through the day. Of course, it was never just science and medicine that people needed, and you were never able to be that clinical. Robotic or detached. You wanted to give them all the comfort and care that you could muster because when it was you, not so long ago, what saved you wasn’t robotic tones and clinical explanations that felt cold and sterile. You’d been given compassion and empathy.

The delivery doctor, sitting in a chair beside the bed, her hand clutched with yours, as she explained in soft tones what happened and how they tried to resuscitate him, did all they could - and it wasn’t enough.

How none of it was your fault.

“Would you like to hold him?”

Pushing the memory away, you moved to press your back against the prickly texture of the Pittsburgh Trauma Center, applying more and more pressure until you felt the sharp edges begin to puncture the soft fabric of your scrubs.

You thought over your options, as if you truly had so many, where you could go back inside and play the role of a well-adjusted doctor, because you were a doctor, a fucking good one, but inevitably human. Full of flaws, hopes, and shattered dreams: so painfully human in this moment and broken and right now…right now you couldn’t even help yourself.

Your eyes closed at the next onslaught of intrusive thoughts that clamored into your head. Each one taking its time in demanding your attention, just so you knew they were there.

You shouldn’t be doing this - allowing your insecurities and their friends to create a chaotic house party in your mind. You had a patient literally waiting for you back in a room, frightened and on the verge of running, and a mother who was on her way, praying for a miracle. A miracle that you and the team had been unable to perform.

It was now your turn to prepare to sit beside a grieving mother. To rest your hand on top of hers and explain that none of this was her fault, and how you did everything you could.

“We’ve done everything we can. I’m sorry. Would you like to hold him?”

Blindly, your face fell into the palms of your hands. You were still debating whether you were going to shout into them in hopes of muffling your growing frustration at the haunting memory. Or maybe just scrub at your skin in hopes it would flake off the fresh set of bags under your eyes from all this fresh hell of mental trauma, The Pitt was bringing you.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“You doing alright out here?”

It didn’t surprise you when you dropped your hands from your face, eyes now wide open, to find Robby standing a few inches from you. His shoulder was leaning against the small space of the wall you’d left open. The ray of sunlight that escaped through the trees leaves casting a halo effect in his hair.

It wasn’t surprising to find Robby checking on you. He was the shift attending. It was his duty to make sure all of his staff were okay after events, and sent to Kiara if they weren’t. Robby was also a good man with a big heart.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m great.”

You tried to muster a convincing smile. It failed right at takeoff since it couldn’t successfully raise your lips from the sullen frown they were stuck in. Because of this, it earned you a reprimanding head tilt to match the disbelief in his eyes.

“You’ve never been a good liar.”

“That’s because lying’s for—“

“For assholes. I know,” he smirked as he finished the sentence with you.

Silence wedged itself between the two of you. It wasn’t claustrophobic or demanded to be filled with aimless small talk. Small talk could never be a simple thing between either of you, anyway. There was too much history, too much knowing, held captive between you. Both of you are unable to tear your eyes away from the other, although a part of you wishes one of you would break.

It was Robby who tore his gaze away first. His vision fell briefly to the space between you before his attention was fully back on you. His shoulder still pressed against the wall with his hands now tucked inside his hoodie.

“Did you want me to talk to the mom when she gets here?”

Of course, Robby would offer to do it - to take the responsibility of being the bearer of the worst news imaginable. You gave the briefest shake of your head. Enough to help turn your head towards the alcove of the ambulance bay and its subdued colors as you cleared your throat.

“No. You have enough on your plate. I don’t want to add to it.”

“Come on. My plate will always be full here, but there will always be room for you – to help you,” Robby stammered over the last words.

It was a rush to correct. A rush to pretend that he hadn’t meant exactly what he said. Robby would make time for you even against his better judgment, even when he should hate you.

You were sure the gesture was meant to be professional, simple. Attendings usually took over for their residents, doctors, and nurses working under them; if a patient asked a question they didn’t feel comfortable answering. If a major life-altering event left them unable to process the event - shock, adrenaline crash, or just plain grief – it made them not able to speak coherent sentences.

But your stupid pride didn’t take it as Robby giving a simple, kind gesture. Instead, you took it as an inability to do your job and the glaringly fucking loud observation that you couldn’t talk to the mother because you’d been a mother for a life-shattering day. As a doctor, you were supposed to be able to put aside personal thoughts, feelings, or whatever baggage you carried around outside these trauma doors.

It’s what you should’ve been able to do, no matter who the patient was or could be. You should be able to suppress any emotional instabilities of the sorrow that now rested in the marrow of your bones. A grief so easily reignited, it burned down every carefully reconstructed fragment of who you were trying to be.

Robby saw it inside trauma one, clocking the shift in mood and movement. Who knew you better than him? The question was easily answered, looking up into eyes that roamed the edges of your face, calculating every shift and change because he knew you.

Because deep down, you know he still loves you.

And you didn’t understand why that thought angered you as much as it did. Realistically, you knew there wasn’t any reason you should lash out. Robby wanted to be there to help. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be out here. You need to be civil, grateful – he could notice you had to get out of that room before you broke down all over again.

“Huh, imagine that,” the words ground out through your teeth. “Quite a change of tone from the hostility earlier.”

You swore you were trying to tease him – the words were meant to be light, something to ease the mood and the tension that was always below the damn surface between you two. Instead of softness, you’d trampled through his attempt at mending the fractured space between you. Each of you yelling from atop your hill, just like before, demanding to be heard without being seen. His kindness was met with a bleak air that sent his head shaking and a hand shooting up to grip the back of his neck in irritation.

You were close to asking him if the migraines still made his neck stiff, but stopped cold as his gaze homed in on you.

“I’m trying to give you an olive branch here.”

‘I’m trying to help,’ the unsaid words lingering under the surface. The irritation began to etch into the crease of his eyes, the indent between his brow. His guard drew back up in a matter of seconds, all because you were ashamed to admit you did want him to talk to the baby’s mother.

You didn’t want him to think less of you for agreeing to give the responsibility over. It felt too much like pawning off a discomfort that was yours to bear - that you weren’t capable of doing it.

You shook the thought away because it was a damn idiotic thought. You knew Robby didn’t think that – wouldn’t think that. You inhaled deeply and replied in the same breath as your exhale, “I know.”

You tore your gaze away, pressing your back against the wall just to feel the small sting of the jagged texture.

“I know,” you repeated, softer this time, allowing your guard to crack in small amounts. “You’re already dealing with grieving parents and children saying goodbye to their father, Robby. Who knows what else might come through these doors today? You don’t need to add another one to the load you’re already carrying. Not when I’m here.”

The funny thing about dealing with other people in the throes of your own grief – it had a way of clawing it out of the grave it’d been buried in. It happened already outside Mr. Spencer’s room, where his children sat diligently by his side. It was a mixture of that room that held the echo of Adamson and his final moments, which no doubt triggered Robby’s own avalanche of unresolved grief.

The funny thing about grief, it could play the long game. Its patience was limitless, while it allowed you to run around putting up blockades to keep it out. You could never keep it out for long, no matter how hard anyone tried, and when it finally collapsed, it left you floundering for solid ground.

It’s what happened to Robby in the bathroom. You weren’t sure what broke him, but when you’d come barreling through the door, it wasn’t because Robby missed you that he’d anchored himself to you. He’d simply been a man drowning in all he’d tried to suppress, and you’d been the safest place for him to find harbor in the storm.

“You’re right. It can be a lot on days like today. I can handle it. What I saw in there with you—”

You hated the soft hush in his tone. The caution on whether or not it was safe to mention him. Your eyes closed in a weak attempt to shut the world out around you as your heart slammed against your ribs. A part of you wanted to hear him say his name – to acknowledge him and his importance over Adamson. You’d loved Adamson just as much as Robby. Without question, you loved your son more.

It wasn’t fair.

“It caught me off guard, Robby, that's all.”

“A lot of things are going to catch you off guard down here. It’s our job to be able to deal with it because if we can’t, it’s going to crush you and just keep going.”

“Is that what you call having a panic attack in the bathroom, Robby? Dealing with it?”

Fuck.

It irritated you that he talked to you like one of his med students. As if he forgot you’d spent years down in this pit with him. The words came out molten and unforgiving. Say his name! You were looking back at him now and hated the way your eyes stung. The way old wounds opened up and corroded the present just like it was two years ago, with nothing resolved, because it wasn’t.

A dry laugh rushed past his lips. This time, it was his turn to look away from you. His whole body ejecting away from you, the few feet of closeness he dared since the bathroom fiasco. You both couldn’t be civil when you stood in a cemetery of unresolved issues.

It’s what happens when you bury grief. It poisons everything you love and turns it bitter.

“Wow.”

He muttered the word softly enough that you strained to hear it. At first, you weren’t sure you had heard anything before he turned to face you, and all the delicate good faith that’d sent him out here to check on you was gone. The old feeling of fight or flight sent your adrenaline into overdrive, your back going rigged to prepare for a carousel of a battle you’d long removed yourself from.

“When did we get like this?”

The question stunned you and left you blinking stupidly at him. The lead up of adrenaline for a possible fight screeching to a halt.

“What?”

Queen of witty comebacks. That was you.

Robby came to stand beside you. His back against the wall, but his gaze trained forward.

“We used to talk about anything – everything. We didn’t hold back details; if it was about your day, mine, or just shit that happened. We didn’t have arguments - we called them discussions. Remember that? We had this life together, and it was crazy and beautiful, and it was ours. We used to fucking talk. When did we replace it with silence-with hostility?”

Robby looked at you then. His eyes hopelessly watching for any sign that you held the answer to the downfall of your relationship. Or maybe, just maybe, he was hoping you magically held the answer on a way to salvage something from the wreckage.

You wanted to tell him he already knew the moments, small and big, that had accumulated since the pandemic. One loss that shut him off to the world, followed by a shared experience of overwhelming sorrow neither of you saw coming. Robby was right. You both used to talk; if a disagreement occurred, the two of you discussed the issue. It wasn’t until after the pandemic, a year in a half later, the loss of Noah, that discussions became arguments.

The two of you talking, but never listening; saying everything and nothing all at once. If either of you had been honest instead of denying the loss, things might’ve been different.

"Truthfully?” You replied, voice apprehensive. “I think we knew once we spoke the truth out loud, it could never be taken back. It’s different if we see and know the saddest, deepest parts of ourselves, but...saying it out loud? That's different. We become vulnerable when telling another living soul. It makes it real, and we can't hide from it anymore. We kept those things from each other at the end, Robby – the sadness, all the loss gave us. We just kept trying to package it all down, and look where that got us.”

Silence crept between you as Robby considered your words. His arms moved to cross against his stomach, chin tucked down at his chest, and body slouched beside you.

It was stupid to be having this conversation at work. In the damn ambulance bay of all places. It didn’t offer the illusion of privacy, which felt like this conversation needed. You shouldn’t be worried; you wanted to remind yourself. Either one or both of you would end it before it got too deep. Always too afraid to ask the lingering questions, leaving everything unresolved.

The sounds of the city rushed back to swallow up the silence. It swelled around in motor exhaust, car horns, and muffled sounds of shouting. It should’ve felt closer, but with Robby standing close beside you, it all began to fade into the background of the bubble Robby and you were creating.

“I haven’t changed anything.”

The timber of his voice jolted you out of your thoughts and forced you to look at him. Your confusion tightening up your brow to form the question you couldn’t say.

“Noah’s room. All the furniture and clothes are still in there. I can’t bring myself to step inside his room and remove him even after all this time.” Robby looked at you, and your heart plummeted into your stomach. Your mouth forming around a singular word: Don’t, but unable to speak. “I know you left, but – but I tell myself if I clean out his room, then the life we had, everything about it will just be gone.”

“Robby—” you tried to cut him off, but he spoke over you. Robby was determined to say what he needed and nothing, not even tears or a helpless breath of please would stop him.

“I realized I’m not ready to let go just yet.”

Your eyes shifted around his face, trying to read and decipher every angle of it for a chance of deception. This felt like a sick joke from the universe that now, fucking now, of all times of waiting for him to open up about practically anything, Robby chose to do it now. Now, at the beginning of a shift you never wanted and were practically strong-armed into taking.

If you were both supposed to begin sharing truths so freely, what did he expect you to start sharing? It was too personal; none of it felt acceptable to say in an ambulance bay outside the automatic doors of a trauma center.

Yet, you wanted to tell him everything and nothing all at the same time. All those years spent missing him and trying to replace him, but how do you move on from someone who felt like your heart in human form? The answer was simple. You didn’t.

Hearing Robby say Noah’s name out loud for the first time in almost three years was a huge step. For so long, he wouldn’t acknowledge Noah or Adamson in conversations. If anyone asked him, he shut down with either deflection or anger to the point that people were scared to bring it up. Except Dana, she wasn’t scared, and Jack was respectful enough not to push.

Today. Right now, at this very moment, Robby was facing you and for the first time spoke your son’s name. Noah’s room and the crib his father built him still occupied the space that the two of you spent months building for him.

No. You didn’t know what to say. You could only feel your heart swell with love before grief came to burst it into a thousand pieces. Robby carefully considered you while he took a cautious step towards you. His body converged into your space until it forced your eyes to train on him, with nowhere to run.

“I have one more truth I’m willing to share, and one you’re not ready to hear but…” Robby turned away from you. The split second of broken connection was enough to give him the strength to say whatever truth lay buried in his chest.

When he looked back at you, you felt every bit of the crushing weight of the depth of his sadness those brown eyes held. Your mind etched into memory the way his shoulders slowly moved inward, guarded and broken. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, only making the collapse glaringly loud.

But Robby and you never used to hide anything from one another. You didn’t, until you did, and now you weren’t sure if there would ever be a way back from all the secrets you’d both kept, or if you were ready for the honesty that awaited either of you.

“It took a long time to admit this after you left. I wanted to hate you. It would’ve been easier; made this realization easier to swallow, but…I will love you for the rest of my life.” The sincerity in his words – the break that clipped in the way he spoke your name with what felt like a lifetime of emotion reflected in his eyes that used to look at you with such warmth. Now, all you could see was a man standing in front of you. The weight of losing everything he cared for was crushing down on him. “And sometimes, I think, what an odd thing to feel when I know you wouldn’t be here for any of it.”

A breath of a moment stretched into an infinite loop as your breath became trapped and screaming in your lungs. While your heart constricted against your ribs, your hands shaking from the strain, struggling against the urge to reach out and touch his face in comfort like you used to. You could feel the phantom weight of his cheek resting in the safety of your palm. The tip of his nose grazed across your wrist before he turned to plant a kiss there.

“I can’t unlove you, and the truth is I don’t want to.” He shrugged into the words, his body caving further inwards with his hands tugging inside his hoodie’s pockets. “The truth is, I miss you every moment of every day. I wake up and, I don’t know if it’s because you’re it, you’re my person, that I’m always searching for you in everyone else I meet. Or if I’m scared, I’ll wake up and realize I’m starting to forget what your favorite flower was or how you specifically needed the towels to be folded. I love and miss you in equal measure, and I know…I know we broke one another, but I have to believe that we can come back from this, because I can’t imagine living the rest of this life without knowing you’re in it.”

There wasn’t a way to hide the shaking your body produced, even though you attempted to stifle it. Your arms crossed, uncrossed, or fidgeting with your hands, and placing them inside the pockets of your scrubs. Nothing kept out the urge to rush over to him and throw yourself against him.

“Robby,” you cautioned, “It’s not that simple.”

It wasn’t. Ignoring the cracks in the foundation didn’t stop them from getting any bigger. Pretty words could never be enough to keep it from collapsing, leaving every weak attempt at patching it up exposed. Words were easiest to say when they weren’t having to be followed by action.

His teeth drew his lip into his mouth, while his eyes darted away from you for the first time since he spoke.

“I know. I know,” he replied sadly.

A part of you wondered if spilling your own confession would make the situation worse. You couldn’t leave him out here to wonder if you loved him less - if you moved on completely. You hadn’t. You couldn’t, but maybe telling him that would only make things worse.

What are we pretending to be here?

It was the real question that ached to be asked, sitting at the back of your throat. It scratched like a cough and begged to be released. It felt honest - an important question that deserved an equally honest answer because, what the fuck was happening? He should hate you. Robby had every right to hate you, and you should’ve both moved on with your lives instead of being here, burning in the purgatory of longing, but…he didn’t. You didn’t.

So, you did the awkward thing and tried to lighten the mood with all the grace of a car crash.

“You know,” you began numbly, feeling the wrongness of the words as they formed in your mouth, “I came out here to escape from the trauma inside, not to have more trauma dumped on me.”

You attempted to drown the words in laughter. A quiet huff was all you could muster past your lips; past arms that constricted around your body in a protective layer to stop you from reaching out to him. By the soft smile that upturned his lips and the sorrow that hollowed out his eyes, you knew the mirth you’d tried to build was extinguished the minute it passed through your lips.

At some point, as you listened to his confession, you felt yours rising in your throat. How many nights have you spent curled in bed facing what used to be Robby’s side of the bed?. Everything inside your house is still foreign, and the missing pieces of him are scattered throughout the home - his glasses sitting on the bathroom or kitchen counters or resting between his fingers in a hand that rested on the soft rise of his sleeping chest.

It had taken the full two years for you to relearn how to comfortably sleep alone, and yet, you could still feel the ghost of an ache to feel the warmth of his hand snaking around your middle to pull you close. The graze of his lips that trailed butterfly kisses along your shoulder.

Movies made it seem so easy to start again – pick up right where you left off with the one you love as if no time had passed. As if all the reasons that made you leave, the distance, the avoidance, and the pent-up anger in the first place, magically became a nightmare you’d woken up from.

No. Unless you could both heal properly, be honest for once about the last few months outside of small confessions in offer of complacency, old demons would always open new wounds.

It was that realization that left your eyes stinging; losing a battle to keep it all locked up, keep it locked up tight so no one sees you breaking, when the first tear escaped through your lashes and exposed what you couldn’t say. You didn’t need to tell Robby this - the denial of his request was written plainly in your silence, in the way you shattered. He’d seen you broken so many different times, in different ways, that he could read what you struggled to say, mouth gaping like a water-starved fish, and angry hands wiping furiously at your face.

You didn’t want to watch him break - his own hand scrubbing at his face – but you couldn’t look away. If you were honest, you could’ve told him the silent “No” wasn’t absolute. Shit, it barely held any weight at all because every fiber of your being screamed for you to open your fucking mouth and just tell him - TELL HIM that this wasn’t no. It was never again. It was a plea to fix things because you knew if you couldn’t do that, the second time around, when you broke one another, no one would survive.

You opened your mouth to tell him – to stop being such a fucking coward – when the sudden smack of a palm on concrete left you jumping half way out of your skin.

“Robby, we need you back inside.”

Langdon. Of course, it was always Langdon with his shitty timing.

Robby didn’t respond right away. He watched you, waited for you, allowing you a few more minutes to attempt to say the words that were left lodged like a traffic jam inside your airway. When nothing came, he hung his head for a brief second before he looked back up. Robby gave one last glance in your direction before his eyes shifted over his shoulder to a waiting Langdon.

“Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

He didn’t look at you again as he passed you to head back inside. You gave yourself a few extra minutes to clean yourself up before heading behind the pair and back inside the madness that was The Pitt.

Robby followed blindly behind Langdon into the room, which was in the midst of chaos. The nurses moved in a synchronized frenzy around the room to start an IV to allow Santos to push in what appeared to be another four of lorazepam, which, from what Robby could catch, was opening up the debate of whether to press Keppra or intubate.

It was mechanical the way he moved around the room with his body drifting out of the way and back in with the frantic tide that crashed around the island of the gurney. The way Robby found himself asking questions about the length of the seizure, his ears straining to register the response from Santos as she broke down the time and medication given. It was a dance Robby knew all the steps to. For that, he was grateful, because his body was here in this trauma room, but his mind was still outside with you.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid!

The word pinballed around his head with a frenzied velocity. In a brief moment of madness, of weakness (it’s all he could call it), Robby caved into the wild thought that if he exposed just enough of the sorrow his demons fed on, it would be enough. He allowed himself to hope that maybe the kiss inside that bathroom rekindled something for you, too; Robby knew he could be crazy, but he wasn’t delusional.

You’d kissed him back.

Or fuck, maybe he was fucking delusional. Maybe he’d been too honest not just with you, but with himself. For a long time, Robby told himself he did hate you. He hated you for coming home to a house so devoid of your presence; he wondered if he’d made you up. A coma patient locked inside a fog-induced dream where his life was good, whole, and burst into a constellation of moments that filled that life with purpose.

A life scattered with moments of you.

He hated you because after he frantically searched every room in the house - every room except that one, because Robby knew he’d never find you there, never there - he’d shattered. His knees hinging forward to make contact with the hardwood at the top of the staircase, and he tried to remember how his lungs were supposed to work.

Robby could say he hated you for everything that came after, but what he hated most was how he didn’t hate you. Not even a little bit. What tore at him - this hatred he built - was born from the grief of loss. First, Adamson, then his son, and now you.

What had he done in life to earn so much loss? Was he a bad son? Had he not been enough? Did he fail too many people in his life - fail his patients? Did he not care enough? Give enough? What had he done to make everything - everyone - he ever fucking cared about decide he wasn’t enough to fight for?

No, Robby couldn’t hate you. It might’ve been easier, simpler to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair. He hated himself the most because with every waking hour since he’d come home to an empty life, Robby wondered what he could’ve done differently so that you would’ve stayed.

Robby came back to the present with his hand firmly placed on the patient's forehead. His pen light flashed back and forth into his eyes to catch any hint of a reaction. Robby was aware Santos was informing him about her desire to prep to give Keppra, while simultaneously making it known she disagreed with Langdon’s desire to weigh and press the last two milligrams of lorazepam.

“Dr. Langdon’s patient, Dr. Langdon’s call.”

He hoped the tension he sensed brimming between the two of them was something he could conclude to a shitty projection to go along with a shitty day. At least, that’s what Robby hoped it was because he wasn’t sure he could take any more bad news today.

You watched from a distance as Robby converged inside trauma one without so much as a glance behind him. You weren’t sure why you expected it or, more truthfully, you hated the fact you had expected something.

After what transpired outside with his words with that fucking look in his eyes haunting you with every step you took, you almost felt compelled to run back outside, but this time, instead of stopping, you would keep running. Run until lactic acid builds up inside fatigued muscles; until your lungs burn with each new breath and you finally collapse.

It was a tempting thought until your brain finally clicked on and-

“Fuck!” You muttered under your breath.

Your patient. The one you’d left with Princess and Javadi was in the room waiting for you to return. You’d left to take in the baby but never returned. Your feet were already bounding you forward, while your hands secured around your stethoscope to keep it from falling. You weaved your way through gurneys, patients, and staff until you came to the doorway of her room and found it…empty.

Empty was okay. It didn’t mean a damn thing. She did have orders for CT, and it was possible that one of the radiology team came down to get her. Your hands still grasping your stethoscope, your eyes scanned central for any sign of Javadi or Princess. It was more likely that once you’d left, Javadi would go back to find McKay, which left Princess as your best bet for information.

You moved to circle around central with your eyes scanning inside rooms and down hallways. Eventually, you knew you would see Princess or get lucky enough to see Kat being wheeled back to the room.

It wasn’t until you were halfway down the south hallway that you finally spotted Princess behind a curtain. Her gloved hands carefully wrapped a patient's ankle with bright blue cling gauze. You could hear your shoes make a good awful screech as you came to a halt to backtrack into the room.

“Good afternoon,” you smiled tightly at the patient before you directed your attention to Princess. “Patient in 2 North: she in CT?”

“Nope,” Princess replied, being especially sassy by popping the P. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“I mean, Dr. Fullerton, after we distributed the mifepristone, she dipped.”

“Why didn’t you wait to give it to her until after I had my CT results?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to be a mind reader?” Princess directed back at you. Her hands never stopped the procession work in front of her as she looked at you. “You asked me to check in with Javadi and to stay with her until you returned. You’d put in the order for mifepristone, which we administered while we waited for Her Highness to return, which, by the way, was almost a full fifteen minutes.”

“Anything else you’d like to get off your chest, Princess, before I go?”

You didn’t have room to be snappy with her. Princess’s play-by-play of what took place in the last twenty or so minutes went down exactly like that. It was your fault for putting in orders without directly giving directions on how and when you wanted it released. You hadn’t told Javadi or Princess you wanted Kat to have to wait for it - the CT results were more important.

But you’d told neither of them your game plan because your attention was ripped away from one patient to the next, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. This was an emergency department, and shit like this happened all day, but you having a mini breakdown wasn’t in the cards and had cost valuable time with not only Kat, but other patients. You’d planned on involving Kiara for assistance, and now every plan you’d tried to capitalize on to help that young girl evaporated just like her presence.

Princess shot you a look that would’ve left Medusa impressed, and you held your hands up in surrender.

“You’re right, Princess. I didn’t communicate what I wanted to be done,” you relented. “I guess I’m still getting my bearings back from being thrust down into hell,” then to the patient who looked a tad concerned, “No offense.”

You caught the smirk Princess tried to hide by ducking her chin to her chest. Her hands swiftly finished up the angled wrap before securing it and taking a step back from the patient.

“It’s alright,” she hummed. “I should’ve tried to stop her before she left. She didn’t seem in any shape to be leaving anyway.”

“No,” you agreed. “No, she wasn’t.”

You moved back behind the curtain as Princess removed her gloves and threw them in the nearest waste bin. You both started moving down the hallway back towards central, with her stopping to get a few pumps from the sanitizer dispenser on the wall.

“Do you think she’ll come back?”

“I’m not all too sure. She seemed worried even while she was in here, and the incident with Langdon didn’t really help matters.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised there. She and Langdon got into it the last time she was here a few months back. Surprised she even came back.”

You stopped just outside the entrance to the central nursing station and looked up at the screen. Princess went inside to find a computer, and you found your feet carrying over to where she’d parked herself.

“Oh, I forgot to ask: Javadi. How did she do?”

Princess gave a small shrug while she grimaced as if the right words were either hard to find or unpleasant.

“She seems okay, but she’s really nervous and jittery. Stammers a lot.”

“I meant with the patient, Princess. How was she with the patient?”

“Oh, she was okay. Still jittery and awkward, though.”

It was normal for staff to give the new kids a hard time, clocking every awkward gesture or wrong move in the name of medicine. While some staff would make bets about who would show up again for their next shift or who wouldn’t, it was always clear that it was done with the best of intentions. It was a dysfunctional family down here after all, and a family wasn’t complete without a few odd ducks.

You drummed a set of knuckles against the counter. Your eyes roamed the board up and down multiple times because absolutely none of it was inspiring you to turn around and get back on the floor. You blew a raspberry as you considered the buffet of options one last time before Princess caught your attention. The gleam in her eyes was the first tell-tale sign she was up to no good.

“You and Robby were outside for quite a long time,” she observed before giving you a wink.

“And on that note, I think I just found an ingrown toenail with my name on it.”

“Oh, come on!” Princess quipped behind you. “We just want to know when Mom and Dad are going to make up.”

You gave her an absent-minded wave and didn’t bother to look back. There was a strong chance her accusing gaze was following you, or worse, with the beginning hint of a smirk that she might have caught the blush slowly burning up your cheeks like wildfire.

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! Much Love.

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#Residuals #ongoing series #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt max #the pitt fanfiction #michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robinavitch #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #dr robby x female reader #michael robinavich x you #michael robinavitch x reader #robby x reader #doctor robby #noah wyle #saucy angsty babies

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touchme-teezme · 4 months ago

Text

I'm Sorry.

PAIRINGS | collegeboy!seonghwa x fab!reader

TAGS | plot with some porn, strangers to lovers, one night stand situationship, idk man he came over to build legos, there’s some attempted flirting and teasing, lots of making out, lots of tongue, unprotected vanilla sex, seonghwa lowkey a bop, bruh i am so bad at tagging bye i give up

RATING | NSFW 21+ (Minors pls DNI/if it makes you uncomfortable don’t read thx)

SUMMARY | Seonghwa needed a break. He also decided something had to change — and that led him to a few unexpected places in one night, including something dangerously close to his disaster feelings and while you were clearly the escape, he ran the other way.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | …hey…. how y’all doing?… sorry i was getting cheated on and also started a really important internship. It just ended (the internship and the relationship) so… we’re so…back? Thank you for being so sweet in the inboxes, this was a long one. i finished editing during valentine’s day i think? i was thinking about hwa’s slutty fingers after seeing that one concert video and ugh my mind went places oK omg i will shut up now. Bye, enjoy.

Inspired by 'Do You Like Me?" by Daniel Cesar. I have been listening to that NEVER ENOUGH album so much lately.

💌 click here to see my Love Interrupted series masterlist [ot8] — check out the other parts!

This was going to be the first and last time Seonghwa ever took advice from Jung Wooyoung.

In his defence, he’d hit a new low. Lower than rock bottom. Which is why the resident exemplary student, honour roll with a self-imposed 9 p.m. bedtime was standing outside the hottest nightclub in Itaewon, sporting a fresh haircut and an outfit entirely stolen from his roommate’s wardrobe.

His dating life chewed him up and spat him out, and now he was determined to do the absolute most to cope. He was hurt and hell-bent on distraction from whatever the fuck was even going on in that part of his life.

How he ended up getting ghosted by his situationship wasn’t nearly as baffling as how Wooyoung had somehow convinced over half their friend group to spend their Friday night here, of all places. They weren’t really party people — well, half of them weren’t. The ones who were into it had conveniently been excused from showing up.

Yunho, on the other hand, had been on the dance floor non-stop, while Wooyoung played hype man from the booth, cheering him on like it was a solo concert.

Wooyoung nudged Seonghwa’s shoulder with his knee from the top edge of the booth like a gremlin surveying chaos.

“Dude, she’s been staring at you all night.”

Seonghwa shot him a flat look. “And?”

“And,” Wooyoung slid down from his perch and dropped onto the seat beside him with a dramatic sigh, “Yunho and I are taken, and those two are a lost cause.”

Seonghwa glanced across the table. Hongjoong looked like he was losing a battle with sleep, while Yeosang scrolled through his phone, sipping from Hongjoong’s drink. He hadn’t smiled once all night — clearly here for the same reason Seonghwa was: moral support. But the chaos of the club made heart-to-hearts impossible.

“That leaves you,” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly. “Dude. She’s hot and interested. You’re hot and miserable. Classic rebound opportunity.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” Wooyoung shrugged. “But I’m also right. Just look.”

He reached over, grabbed Seonghwa’s chin, and turned his head toward the bar.

And there you were — leaning back with easy confidence, swirling your drink, eyes locked on him with a smirk that stole the air right out of his lungs.

“Trust me,” Wooyoung grinned. “She’s perfect for helping you forget that loser.”

This would go down as the second and definitely the absolute last time Seonghwa ever took advice from Jung Wooyoung. Five minutes later, he’d been kicked out of the booth with one order: Don’t come back without her number.

That’s how he found himself now, seated next to you, drink in hand, trying to remember how to function like a normal human.

“Not a fan of clubs?” You asked, leaning slightly nearer to him to yell over the loud music.

“I hate it. I think I’m having an identity crisis,” He blurted out as he shook his head, the liquor loosening his lips faster than his brain could catch up.

You laughed, but not unkindly. “I'm sorry to hear that. Well… I don’t live far if you wanna have some peace and quiet.”

“Oh. Uh…”

“I…have a cat, too. She loves company if you like cats.”

Your invitation slipped past his defences smoother than the drink in his hand. One last sip, and he was already on his feet—jacket in one hand, your purse slung over the other shoulder.

That was all it took. Seonghwa couldn't help but wish it was the way you were looking at him or how your skirt was riding up coincidentally the longer he sat next to you. But nope, it was the thought of being able to distract himself and pretend like this night out never even happened and getting him far away from whatever this hellscape was.

Clubs really weren’t his thing.

He barely registered the triumphant double thumbs-up from Wooyoung or the way Yunho covered his dropped jaw as he watched the two of you walk out together.

Seonghwa’s heart pounded so hard it echoed in his ears. Taking a cab to your place with a confident, effortlessly cool girl like you was far outside his usual playbook. For a second, he wasn’t even sure what to say.

Thankfully, conversation came easily to you.

The ride melted into light chatter about university — shared gripes about professors, mutual hatred for certain classes. You discovered you were in the same course but at rival schools, which only added to the banter. There was laughter, playful jabs, and an unexpected comfort that settled between you.

By the time the cab pulled up to your place, Seonghwa was far more at ease than when he’d left the booth.

Your apartment was warm and cosy, lit with soft golden light that cast slow-moving shadows across the walls. Seonghwa stepped inside and hesitated in the middle of the living room, awkwardly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, unsure of where to stand or sit.

You smiled as you hung up your coat, amused by his stiffness.

“Relax. Make yourself at home.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry.” He took in the space again, then gave you a sheepish look.

“So… is this the part where you admit you don’t actually have a cat?”

“Would you be mad if I did?” you teased, stepping a little closer.

His heart stuttered. He opened his mouth to respond, but then-

“Oh, shit!”

His eyes went wide as they landed on something across the room — a pristine box of a Lego orchid set sitting on the coffee table. He practically rushed over.

“I’ve wanted this for so long!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, his excitement too endearing to be upset over what the box represented.

“Oh, yeah. It was a birthday gift for someone… but I never got to give it to him. I was going to return it tomorrow or something.”

He glanced down at the box in his hands. “Have you ever built a set before?” he asked suddenly.

“I don’t have the patience for Lego,” you admitted.

He held out a hand, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “This one’s easier than my last build. We’ll be done in no time. I promise.”

Somewhere between sorting bricks and swapping stories, Seonghwa realized he was actually getting to know you. What started as throwaway chatter had spiraled into a shared spiral; bad dates, worse decisions, and the Valentine’s Day disasters that landed you both at that club.

Now sitting cross-legged beside you, he was down to the last few pieces, fitting them together with ease —until your voice cut in again.

“I still think it’s insane how yours just ghosted you,” you voiced your opinion once his story was over as you laid on your stomach, “If I was in that position, I’d be running for a second chance, like that wouldn’t have even been a question.

Seonghwa’s hands faltered, fingers tightening around a tiny brick as he felt heat rush up to his cheeks. He let out a breathy laugh, snapping one of the last pieces into place. Then, a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe it was my fault. I come on too strong sometimes and… it just didn’t work out.”

“Which is exactly why I think it’s crazy,” You clarified, with your chin resting in your hands, propped up on your elbows. “Like, if I had you chasing after me? Wow.”

You were only yapping away, if anything it was to keep yourself awake. You let out a quiet chuckle at the absurdity of saying something like that to someone you literally just met, but you caught the way he was looking at you. And maybe… the way you said it didn’t sound so hypothetical anymore.

His fingers tightened around the last brick in his hand, looking down at it.

“…What would you do?” he suddenly asked, the words slipping out before he could think them through. “If I was chasing you?”

You shrugged, still focused on finishing your flower, but there was something different in the air now. You could feel it. The way his voice had dropped, how his eyes lingered just a moment too long.

“I don’t know… anything you’d want. Like, come on.” You tried to brush it off with another laugh, but even you could notice the shift in the air between you both.

“Come on… what?”

He didn’t laugh back. Instead, he leaned in a little, just enough to close the space between you. His gaze was intense as it focused on you but the question still hung in the air.

You slowly looked up at him, you knew exactly what he was doing.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, barely above a breath.

He huffed a quiet breath, trying to ground himself. “You didn’t invite me here for some peace and quiet, did you?”

You felt your carpet under the palms of your hands as you sat up, still watching him. “Technically… I invited you back for peace and quiet away from everyone else.”

“To do what?”

“You really want me to spell it out for you?” You couldn't bite back that smile. “Me inviting you is one thing, but why did you come?”

He didn’t respond, just held your gaze. You leaned in and your fingers found his jaw, light and slow. With that, you closed the gap, pressing your mouth firmly against his. Your hands roamed down his hard chest, tracing the contours and marvelling at how he flexed beneath your touch.

A low moan escapes his throat as he returns your kiss with equal fervour, his hands coming up to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your tongues moved together, exploring every nook of each other's mouths.

The kiss momentarily broke for him to trail his lips along your jaw. You slowly rose up from your knees with his guidance. His hands firmly on your sides with no signs or intentions of letting you go just yet. His lowered eyes focused on you as you helped him out of his black tank top, throwing it off over the jacket he laid out neatly on your couch.

You took his hand straight to your bedroom door. Opening it, your tuxedo cat jumped out before making its way to the zip line for the kitchen where her bowl of water and food was waiting. You turned to Seonghwa who looked back at you, delightfully surprised.

“So you do have a cat.”

“I was lying about her being a fan of people though,” You shrugged. “Come on.”

He smiled as he looked down at you, his gaze locked on yours with a mix of curiosity and anticipation and as you both reached the edge of the bed, you gently pushed him down onto the mattress.

His lips pressing together nervously as his eyes drank the sight of you stripping down.

“Have you ever done anything like this?”

“Yeah… just not… it’s been a while…” Seonghwa was blabbering.

He was in the middle of an internal battle, wondering if this was a mistake. You were just nodding along to his words, finally slipping out your skirt before straddling him, hooking your arms behind his head to continue kissing those lips of his.

Seonghwa was without a doubt a kisser. He knew exactly how to do just how you like it, how to hold you and move his tongue – the way he moved with yours with practiced precision sent shivers down your spine.

It was no wonder you were already getting soaked between your legs, and he wasn’t even naked… but he was hard, and from how he was rubbing it up against you, you could tell he was more than eager.

His kisses felt tender yet intentional, and it was driving you insane. He was holding down the sides of your throat to kiss your neck and collarbones.

“Fuck, Seonghwa please—“ You reached down to the bulge clearly wanting to be freed, looking up at him when he had you pressed against the mattress on your back.

It felt good to be wanted and to be desired. He wasn’t lying when he said it had been a while, especially with someone like you, who carried yourself with such certainty.

“Shhh… let’s take our time.”

His hands found their way onto the mounds beneath the lace of your bra which he had pushed above your breasts teasing your left nipple with fingertips he had wet with his tongue. Your knees pressed together, as he showered the other one with feathery kisses.

He took your hand from behind his head, intertwining it with his fingers before planting it right above your head. When his skilled tongue found its way against yours again, you had to let out a deep moan in his mouth — especially with his fingers teasing your slick folds through your panties.

“Oh my god…” You rubbed up his arm in encouragement.

“Where do you want me, beautiful?”

You swear you could’ve melted from how gentle his voice was and how his eyes were glossing at you.

“Anywhere.” You unhooked your own bra out of sheer impatience, getting chills from how he smiled at your shamelessness. “Everywhere.”

“Let’s start… here.” His hands dipped in between your legs.

Seonghwa's hands moved with a confident grace, exploring every inch of your core with a precision that spoke of practiced skill. His thumb traced gentle circles over your clit, eliciting a soft grunt from you as the sensation washed over you. Your core tightened in response to his focused attention, and your hips began to move involuntarily, grinding against his fingers.

You were lost in a fit of absolute pleasure and enjoyment, your body arching off the bed as Seonghwa's fingers delved deeper into you. In a moment of pure instinct, you grabbed his chin, pulling him closer. His mouth was open, and before you could think twice, he sucked your fingers into his mouth, his lips and tongue working over them with a hunger that mirrored your own.

You noticed the glint in his eyes as he watched you, his gaze flickering between the action and your reactions with a possessiveness that lit up his eyes. "Are you just going to watch?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Your fingertips brushed his smile, his lips brushing against yours as he leaned down. "But I like watching you," he murmured, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck. His fingers continued their tormenting, curling and twisting inside you in a way that had you squirming beneath him. He could feel your wetness coating his fingers, and it only spurred him on further.

"I n-need a little more," you whispered, but your words were swallowed by the intensity of another finger joining the first, and everything around you seemed to fade away.

Seonghwa groaned, quickly undoing his button and fly with one hand, while the other ensured your legs remained parted. Before you could compose yourself, he dropped his head and began lapping at your clit as if he were starving. At first, it was just his tongue and lips, but when you felt his fingers curl back in, you let out a loud moan of pure pleasure. You didn't even notice his growls of approval as he continued the motion, flicking his tongue faster and faster, as if you might run away at any moment.

The sight and feeling of having such a beautiful face devouring you distracted you from how he was advancing towards you, appearing in front of your face just to dip down and kiss your chest. Distracting you, he was getting ready to take out his hard-on, pumping it in his hands, coating it with your own slick.

“Do you have uh…” He started to ask, but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about that, just… now… p-please,” you urged, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled a little at you, leaning down to hold you with one arm snaked around your waist and the other hooked under your knee as he laid you both on your side. Holding onto him by his broad shoulders, you braced yourself for what was to come.

“Ah, fuck..”

He took your lips between his as he finally had you around him. The way he teased your bottom lip with his teeth, the way his tongue had explored every crevice of your mouth — it reminded you just how much you personally missed the feeling of being this intimate with someone.

Seonghwa groaned into another kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he rolled his hips, grinding his slightly curved cock deeper into your stretched folds.

"Mmm,” he murmured against your lips, nipping at them playfully before trailing his mouth down your neck. "Is this what you wanted?”

You bit back a grin, nodding aggressively as you continued to moan out all while his shaft slipped in and out at a steady pace with your hands clutched onto the back of his neck.

He caught a pert nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. “You smell incredible, I’ve wanted to tell you that all night.”

You scrunched your nose, “I smell like the club.” Cigarettes and liquor.

To emphasize his point, he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply before placing an open-mouthed kiss there. “I mean your skin, babe. Fuck me…” He suckled lightly, intent on leaving a subtle mark.

"How does that feel?" He asked in a low, seductive rasp as he continued his sensual stroke a little quicker.

Your breathy silent approval ignited something primal in him.

“Yeah? Faster?” He complied, increasing the pace of his thrusts. The new rhythm had him driving into you harder, deeper, the thick ridge of his cockhead kissing your cervix with each powerful snap of his hips.

It was wild how he seemed to anticipate your every move before you could even react or give him instructions. The fluidity of his actions felt almost surreal, which sounds absurd when you consider how quickly everything unfolded. You had just met this stunning stranger, with hair flopping over his eyes – you were building brick flowers merely moments ago and now here you were focused on a different set of bricks.

One large hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as the other tangled in your hair, resting his forehead against yours intimately as he pounded into you. His lips brushed yours in fleeting, feverish kisses between ragged breaths.

"Yes, just like that," you grunted, feeling the sweat on his brow against your forehead. “Whatever you want, just take i-it.”

You felt Seonghwa's hands curve around your skin, to press down on your stomach. As his fingers dug in, it was as if they were anchoring you to the moment, making it impossible to escape from under him. Not that you even planned to.

He rocks into you with an increased urgency, driven by the overwhelming desire of how your body is responding instinctively. His eyes locked on yours, a mix of possessiveness and adoration that made your heart race. The way his muscles flexed with each thrust, sweat glistening on his skin, and his lips parting in a shameless moan.

"I-I’m…i’m almost there," He rasped, while his hot breath fanned over your skin.

Just as you're teetering on the brink, he slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt. With a guttural roar, he stills, his cock twitching as he fills you.

When the pulses gradually slowed, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer intensity of you both unravelling at the same time. His lips sought yours in a tender, lingering kiss, pouring all your affection into the simple gesture.

"Oh my god…" he breathed, still reeling as he brushed a strand of sweaty hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your cheekbone.

“God…” You chuckled, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “I needed that so badly.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement with an eyebrow raised as your bluntness, “Glad I could’ve helped–”

You placed a finger to his lips, silencing him momentarily before you flipped him over to straddle his chest. Your eyes sparkled with mischief despite the exhaustion etched on your face. He knew exactly what you were thinking, and the sight of you climbing atop sent a thrill through his veins. His semi-hard cock twitched in anticipation as he idly watched you position yourself and slowly shift downwards, making sure to plant butterfly kisses all over his lower abdomen as you made your way down his happy trail.

You looked at him with a playful smile, your eyes glinting with excitement that you were going to taste yourself off him. Then you leaned in, capturing his cock in a deep mouth. Your tongue danced with the tip, exploring every inch of it as you savoured the taste of yourself and him. He groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillow as your warm, wet mouth enveloped his cock.

You took your time, lavishing attention on every inch, your tongue swirling and dancing along the sensitive underside. The sensation of tasting yourselves together was intensely arousing. He threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each pass.

"Mmm, shit, that feels incredible," he praised, his voice thick with pleasure. "You look so good with me around your mouth."

You hummed in agreement, the vibration sending shivers up his spine. You picked up speed, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked harder, your saliva coating his shaft.

"Don't stop," he gasped, his fingers threading through your hair, guiding your movements. You could feel the tension building in his body, the muscles in his legs and arms tensing as he neared his climax again.

With a final, powerful thrust of your throat, he let out a guttural roar, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he released once more. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, and then pulled back, licking your lips clean. You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with satisfaction and a hint of mischief. He was breathless, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"You're something else.” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and admiration as he watched you clean after yourself so well.

You smiled, leaning into his parted lips.

The whole thing was deliciously reckless… Yet, easy. It started off as one of those nights where the music was too loud, the drinks too strong, and yet somehow it led you here – it led him here. Seonghwa didn’t plan on meeting anyone, let alone ending up tangled in someone’s sheets, laughing at your terrible jokes between kisses that felt way too good to stop for the rest of the night.

By the time the sun started creeping through the blinds, you were both wrecked in the best way. Not just tired, but happy-tired. Wrapped up in each other like it was the most natural thing in the world — just easy conversation, lazy kisses, and that warm, quiet buzz of maybe-this-could-actually-be-something.

“So, what do you think about dinner? My place this Saturday?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Isn’t it Saturday already?” he replied with a chuckle.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stay.” You muttered with a cheek pressed against his chest.

He let out a small laugh, pulling you closer. You drifted asleep first, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back as his chin pressed lightly down the top of your head. He wasn’t tired yet, but he had a few things on his mind until his phone started going off in the other room.

He carefully untangles himself from you. His movements were quiet, practiced. He slipped his boxers on and cracked the door open to quietly head over to shut that stupid thing off.

It had to be one of the guys. That’s what he told himself. It had to be them asking if he got your number, if last night was good, if he was even still alive after stumbling out of there with you.

That’s why it came as a shock when he finally registered what he was reading on his phone.

DO NOT ANSWER Missed call (2)

DO NOT ANSWER I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to but Donghyuck said he saw you and your boys last night and… that you left that trash place with someone?

Did not know you were that kind of person…

Can we talk? I need to see you. I’m at your dorm.

It didn’t matter if it was inappropriate, offensive, or downright insane to come back after all the mental acrobatics Seonghwa was put through because his body was already moving, back to your room to quietly pull on the rest of his clothes. Every few seconds, he glanced back at you, at the way your hair fanned across the pillow, at the warmth still lingering in the sheets. With a quiet sigh, he grabbed a sticky note from your desk.

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what felt worse: leaving you, or running back to the person who only came back when he was one foot out the door, just to prove how wrapped around the finger he was. He didn’t know how to feel about any of it — but knew that he had to go. Because even if this could’ve been the start of something real, something he might’ve actually needed… he thought he needed to be there, chasing the comfort of old chains that he knew all too well.

By the time you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the emptiness beside you. The second was the way your lips still tingled from the night before, still smiling as it remembered what he tasted like and how he treated you, recalling everywhere his lips grazed, even though he had already left. He had been for a while, he could’ve woken you. He also could’ve taken the Lego orchid with him. The day was almost already gone by now, but a part of you was looking forward to seeing him again later.

It wasn’t until you reached for a glass of water that you noticed the note, neatly pressed under a fridge magnet in the kitchen that the hopeful smile you carried around your apartment dropped instantly.

"Thanks for last night. I don’t think I can stick around for that dinner. I’m sorry."

The words weren’t sloppy or rushed. He had taken his time. Like he meant it. Like that had made it better.

#seonghwa smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #hwa fic #park seonghwa #atz smut #atz fanfic #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #seonghwa #atz reader #atiny

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lilhughesy · 8 days ago

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°•*⁀➷ YOU & LUKE — streets of ann arbor au blurb

warnings! slightly suggestive

wish you were athletic!

featuring: mackie samoskevich, rutger mcgroarty, adam fantilli, and tyler duke

a/n: thank you to the nonnie who requested this! i’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to writing this!!

You held your phone carefully in your lap, holding it strategically so it looked normal and hiding the fact that your camera was open and ready to record. You were relaxed on one of the couches in the hockey house, your Aritzia sock-clad feet resting on your boyfriend’s lap as he played Chel with Mackie and Rutger. Both of them who were on the other couches in the living room, their game controllers in their hands. Adam and Tyler were both sat on the floor, watching the game as they ate their post-workout meals.

Luke glanced over to you, checking to see if you were still doing alright considering that Mackie’s competitiveness was starting to kick in. His hand running up the side of your calf before lifting your leg up to press a light kiss to your inner ankle.

“Oh, gross dude,” Tyler mumbled with food in his mouth, “There’s people around you, bro.”

You chuckled while Luke rolled his eyes in amusement, “Grow up, Dukes.”

Your thumb hovered over the red circle before you ultimately decide to start recording. You let out a small sigh, causing Luke to turn his attention away from the TV and towards you,

“Hey, Lukey?” You started as you shifted a bit in your laying position to get a better angle for your video, without exposing yourself.

He hummed, “Yeah, baby?”

“Do you ever wish that you were athletic?” You asked with fake innocence as your eyes flickered between him and your phone. You could see from the corner of your eye, Rutger trying to hide his laugh and Adam lowly shaking his head. Both, which you assumed, had seen the TikTok trend already.

Luke’s eyebrow furrowed slightly as he glanced back at his game, clearly confused, “What do you mean?”

“I mean like,” You sighed as you adjusted your feet in his lap, “Don’t you wish you were actually athletic and really good at a sport, or something?”

You watched his lips form a tight line and you could see the several thoughts going through your boyfriend’s head. He looked back over at you while his fingers continued to move around his controller,

“Uh, I am athletic and am really good at a sport already,” He chuckled, “Did you forget that I’ve been drafted to the NHL?”

You only shrugged as you tried to stifle your own laughter, “Yeah but like, you could be more athletic.”

Luke shook his head slightly in response, “Baby, you do know that I’m on the ice four times a week for at least three hours and I go to the gym like six days a week right?”

“Don’t you wish you were athletic, Bear?” Mackie chimed in, “You should try our training schedule, it would kill you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Oh shush.”

Luke reached over to toss his empty Gatorade bottle in the direction of Mackie’s head, “Watch yourself, Samo. That’s my girl you’re talking to.”

Mackie ducked to avoid being hit, “Bro, don’t need to get violent!”

You gave up and sat up to move to cuddle into Luke’s side, “I’m just teasing you, it’s a TikTok trend,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “I know you’re athletic, why else would you have these amazing arms and legs?”

Luke’s face flushed red as he shook his head to move his curls around, “I know you appreciate my athleticism in other ways than just hockey.”

“Yep, that’s it,” Tyler said as he dropped the rest of his sandwich onto his plate, “I’m done, that’s fucking gross.”

“ENOUGH!” Rutger cried as he tossed his controller onto the floor and covered his ears, “We don’t wanna hear that shit dude!”

Adam only laughed as he got up and followed his other house mates out of the living room, “Hughesy, you’re so crazy sometimes.”

“Y’all better get a room, and not in this house when we’re all here,” Mackie groaned as he turned off the TV and headed towards his room, “Some things we don’t want to hear.”

Luke only shrugged before pulling closer into his chest and pressing a kiss to your temple, “You and your god damn TikTok trends,”

#〽️ streets of ann arbor au #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #umich hockey x reader #umich hockey blurb #umich hockey au #umich hockey fanfiction

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lazysoulwriter · 5 months ago

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just a little behind, okay? - jj maybank.

---

JJ wasn’t dumb.

He was reckless, impulsive, loud as hell, and a certified menace to society, sure. But he wasn’t dumb.

He could fix a boat engine blindfolded. Knew every street on the island like the back of his hand. Had survival instincts that would put a Navy SEAL to shame. And yet—yet—his friends, usually halfway to wasted, loved to throw around the word like it didn’t mean anything.

“Bro, you didn’t even know Vermont was a state.”

“Because I don’t care, John B!” he’d yell back, flipping him off with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other.

It was all jokes. Harmless. Mostly.

But tonight?

Tonight you were drunk and in love and ready to fight.

The group was huddled around a fire, laughter spilling into the humid night, bodies tangled across chairs and blankets, bottles clinking every five seconds. JJ had just tried to explain something (god knows what) about how birds definitely control the government, and Pope—sober enough to function, just drunk enough to be a little bold—laughed and said, “Bro, you are literally so dumb sometimes, it’s unreal.”

You froze mid-sip of your drink.

JJ laughed it off, shoulders shaking like it didn’t hit. But you saw the flicker in his eyes. That half-second of ow before he masked it with a grin.

And that? That pissed you off.

You stood, wobbled, pointed your finger at Pope with dramatic flair.

“Don’t.”

Everyone turned.

Pope blinked. “What?”

“Don’t call him dumb.” You hiccuped. “He’s not dumb. He’s just…he’s just…” You spun to face JJ, who looked confused and amused and maybe a little scared.

You pointed at him now. “You’re not dumb, baby.”

JJ, already grinning: “Thanks, mama.”

You whipped back to Pope, swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane. “He’s just a little behind sometimes. That’s different. That’s like... like when a computer freezes but it’s still a good computer, you know?”

John B choked on his drink.

“I’m a good computer,” JJ whispered proudly, eyes wide with adoration.

“Exactly!” you shouted, throwing your arms up like you’d just won a case in court. “My baby is a good computer! Sometimes he needs to, like, buffer! But he still got, like, all the tabs open in there. He just—he needs a second, okay?”

Kiara was howling.

Pope tried not to laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“No!” you shouted. “He makes you laugh. He’s brave as fuck. He’d fight a bear for y’all. And he remembers my coffee order every single time, even when I forget it. That’s not dumb. That’s, like, boyfriend genius.”

JJ, completely smitten: “I am a boyfriend genius.”

“You are,” you nodded, stumbling over to him and practically flopping into his lap. “You’re my little genius baby.”

He wrapped his arms around you like it was second nature. “Say it again.”

“My. Little. Genius. Baby.”

“God, I love you,” he muttered into your neck.

You sat up straight, raising a finger again for dramatic emphasis. “And if anyone calls him dumb again, I’ll fight. I’ll fight all of you. I boxed for two weeks in middle school. Don’t test me.”

At that point, everyone was laughing too hard to respond. Even Pope threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! He’s not dumb! He’s… buffering.”

JJ kissed your cheek. “Thanks for the antivirus, babe.”

You giggled, melting into him. “Anything for my high-speed internet boyfriend.”

And that was it. The conversation moved on, the fire crackled, the beers kept flowing—but JJ couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

Because no one ever had his back like you.

---

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flippinpancakes64 · 6 months ago

Note

How would the cullens (separately) react to a really flirtatious reader. Like where reader makes flirtatious jokes and comments about them all the time and how they would react to the reader doing that in front of other people?

The Cullens with a flirty! Reader

Am I back in my Twilight phase? Who knows. Only time will tell.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He can hear them before you speak

And if he could blush, he would

He’s one of the more traditional people, probably the most stuck in his ways out of all of them

All that to say he goes crazy over an ankle showing

Any comments you make about him have him (mentally) blushing and telling you to stop

Now don’t get me wrong, he can dish it out too

But only in private

The moment he hears you formulating a flirty thought in your brain, his hand is covering your mouth

You rarely ever get the jump on him

He might let you speak your mind in private

But you can already forget about saying anything with others around

Alice:

She would beat you to it every single time

She’s the flirty type

Y’all match each other’s freaks

You two have had compliment wars where you guys just go back and forth flirting

She loves it though

Every compliment, every innuendo, makes her fall deeper in love with you

And if you go out of your way to flirt with her in public, she goes feral

She loves being loved and you are more than happy to do that for her

Also you can’t embarrass her

You’re talking about how sexy she looks in that dress in front of a group of classmates?

She doesn’t care

She’ll retort back about how she can’t wait to get you back home later

When they go low I go lower type beat

Jasper:

Bro is a Casanova

Absolute sweet talker

But only in private

The moment you try to flirt with him outside of the confines of your or his rooms, he’s out of his element

Again, if vampires could blush, his face would be bright red

He always gets mildly annoyed when you say insinuating stuff in public

Not actually annoyed but more of like a

“Come on, really? Now? Here?”

The truth is that he loves the attention

Just maybe not outside of the bedroom

Rosalie:

She can def take it and dish it out

If you two are together, she is your ride or die

And she wants everyone to know

She’s not shy about flirting with you in public

And she never says no to you flirting with her

She welcomes it, actually

She loves the idea of fully being someone’s

Of her partner not being afraid to show her off and publicly admit how much they love her

Some would call it vanity

Or ego

But she calls it love

Emmett:

Oh sweet Emmett

He loves it

No ifs ands or buts

He feels like he’s on cloud nine when you flirt with him

And trust me, whatever you’ve got to say, he has much worse

I think he has a dirty mind

Definitely similar to Alice in the if you go low I go lower department

You’re out with friends and you make a flirty comment?

He’s going to go on a whole rant about how much he loves *insert specific body part of yours*

So yeah he basically has no shame

Say what you want

Just be prepared to be outdone

Esme:

I feel like she’s similar to Edward in this department

She loves the flirty compliments in private

But she gets all flustered in public

Cause wdym you’re at the store with her and now you’re talking about melons??

She’s gonna leave you behind to find your own way back

She gets embarrassed in private too

But it’s not as bad as in public

At least in private yall are left to yourselves

(Save for Edward unwillingly eavesdropping)

Definitely the type to smack you playfully

“Babe are you from tennessee? Cause I’m tryin-to-see them titti-“

*Smack* “Not another word.”

Carlisle:

He thinks it’s funny

He doesn’t really take it too seriously

You like his man boobs?

That’s nice sweetie

Very pacifistic about it

Doesn’t care if you’re in public or private

He loves you and your antics either way

The only time I could really see him caring would be if you came to visit him at work

As long as he’s wearing his coat, he needs to be professional

So that’s where he draws the line

Vampire! Bella:

I get mixed feelings about her

I can’t decide if she would love it or absolutely hate it

On the one hand, she would definitely love the silly jokes and all the attention

She has lower self esteem, and being able to know for sure that your partner finds you desirable is a great thing

On the other hand

Whenever you flirt with her in public she feels like she’s gonna die

She knows it doesn’t really matter

She’s a Cullen now

But she’ll be damned if that little anxious voice in the back of her head isn’t still there

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robinsgrl · 8 months ago

Text

FEARLESS

chapter two. begging and begging

────────────────────────

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.5k

warnings ⇢ curse words, yn overthinking and panicking like usual, second hand embarrassment (i had to stop and pace for a second but that’s me idk), a glimpse of daddy issues y’all its ingrained in me

authors note ⇢ hey……….. i personally am loving this story and hope you are too! i’ve compiled a bit of a taglist but i am very bad at keeping track or forgetting to add to my list so if you aren’t being tagged despite asking that of me, please remind me, preferably through private messaging since the comments can get kinda muddled to me 😭

────────────────────────

Logically, you know you’re not into JJ. He’s cute and funny, sure. But he’s no Jonah. Yet, his message made you nervous. Beyond nervous. You’ve never had any guy speak to you in such a flirty way. Or, send a text like that. You were used to pity compliments from other girls who felt it was their duty as girls who support other girls. So when you sneak out through your window frame and meet his eyes as he stands down on the grass with Kie and Sarah, you play it off as just being nervous. Which you are.

You’ve been at this for five minutes. The girls and JJ are trying to coax you into just coming down. But the distance looks insane from where you sit.

“I’m gonna die!” You whisper-yell down to them. They’re looking up at you with expectant looks, urging you to hop down.

“You’re not gonna die.” Kiara rolls her eyes but you can’t care for any of that as you take another peek down and scare yourself some more.

“My bones are going to shatter.”

“That sounds pretty cool, actually.” Sarah sends a smack to JJ’s chest, wanting him to shut up.

She looks up at you sweetly. “It’s really not a big drop, just put your hands out and jump. Trust, it’s easy.”

You slip down the steep roof part near your window and you let out a little yelp. Immediately, JJ gets to his feet and rushes to where you could possibly land and holds his arms out. This makes a bigger wave of embarrassment flush through you. He’s not the buffest and you’re sure you’re twice his size. To have him stumble and unable to catch you would ruin you. You’d beg your mother to let you go and live with your aunts back in California and never show your face in any Carolina. It’d be too risky to go to either.

The girls are yelling out to you. Something about being careful. That not being prepared for the jump will hurt. You’re panicking. Yelling out to them that you get it. JJ’s promising that he’ll catch you. Too much is going on at once.

“Your mother isn’t home.” The new voice breaks your chatter. The girls and JJ look up at you with wide eyes. You glance over from your window to another to see your step-father peeking his head out at the group and you. “You can just go out the front door.”

Kiara and JJ share a look as Sarah laughs. Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “You’re… you’re okay with this?”

He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “No. But you’re going to do it either way. I did a lot worse at your age than you’re doing now. Just… if your mom finds out, I didn’t know about any of this. Seriously, kid, I’ll throw you under the bus without a care.”

“Yo, your dads cool.”

“Step-dad.” You correct JJ. Usually, your mother would scold you for such a thing. There’s no step in a family, she would tell you. But it felt like a betrayal to your real father. You glance over at Anthony just in time to see a flicker of something pass through him.

He shrugs it off though, tapping the windowsill. “Just go through the front door before you break something.”

“Will—“ but you yell as you start slipping off the roof. The girls yell. JJ yells. You land in a thud, JJ’s arms wrapped around you as two tumble to the ground.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Anthony calls from the windowsill. When he gets no response, he waves his arm. “You’re fine. Don’t do drugs.” And he shuts the window.

You’re on your back now, looking up at the night sky. “Is she dead?” You hear Sarah ask.

“I wish I was.” You answer with a huff, your knees aching.

“Told you I’d catch you.” JJ hums with a smirk as he gets up off the floor, dusting off his cargo shorts and holding a hand out to you. “Come on. Pope’s drunk and you’re missing it.”

—

You’d never been to the boneyard before. Not to party, at least. Whenever there was a get together, a bonfire or a party, Scarlett would ask you to come with but you’d always say no. At some point, she stopped asking and you’d find out through Instagram that she was out with her cooler friends.

The bonfire is lit. There are people all over. People you’ve passed by all your years in Kildare but have never spoken to you. You felt the same towards the group you’re with but now… now they’re talking to you and laughing with you like they’ve all known each other for years.

You also never knew that Kook’s and Pogue’s could ever get along. But apparently they can when you’ve had a few cold ones. You’re sitting on a log with JJ on one side and John B on the other. Sarah’s sitting on John B’s lap, and you side eye it for a second, realizing that she and Topper really are done. You pay no mind to it afterwards and keep leaning up against JJ as he dramatically tells a story about his last time surfing, which was this morning, the kid living and breathing the sport.

Your eyes skim the grounds and your eyes immediately fall onto Rafe who’s standing around with his friends, beer at hand. Whatever his friends are saying is amusing him because he’s letting out a laugh, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes like he can’t believe it.

“She’s a pogue now.” JJ pulls you back into the group as he boasts about you. “Beat that Harlet girl.”

“Scarlett.” Sarah corrects the drunken guy.

“Whatever her name is. Can I say the b word?” He asks Kiara who shrugs lamely, taking a sip of her beer. “to beating bitches up!”

“JJ, why would you say that?”

“You just gave me permission!” He scoffs and turns back to you, hands squishing your cheeks and making you pucker up. “Look at that sexy shiner.”

You try to pull away from him with a laugh. If it were anyone else, the constant need to be touching you and being flirty would overwhelm you. But you’ve come to realize that he’s just an affectionate and flirtatious person. Plus, it’s very clear that he has his sights set on Kiara, with the longing looks he constantly sends her way.

“To my girlfriend!” JJ hollers far too loudly for your liking, eyes wide as you look at him, as he’s now dramatically standing on the log you were sitting on.

“N-not! Not his girlfriend!” You grab his hand and try to drag him to take a seat but he’s apparently a goddamn bulldozer when drunk.

Cleo and Pope are tending to the drunken guy when you find the chance to slip away. Luckily, you had brought yourself a sweater so walking down the shoreline at one in the morning isn’t the worst part of your night. It’s calm and cool now, the sound of chattering and music now becoming a distant noise, giving you the solace and warmth you need.

The path you’re on now is one you walked down with Scarlett by your side many times. It was never this late of course, always at a decent time with her dog on a leash before letting him run wild. You’d talk for hours. Despite the tension often felt from her remarks, you had a pleasant time. More than pleasant. Fun even. She’s a bad person. A mean person. A bully. But when it was just the two of you, she was just a girl. A girl with you. And you hate how easily she could have betrayed you.

A motion in the corner of your eye startles you out of your reminiscing thoughts. You see a figure rush between the trees and take notice of who it is. Rafe. If you were in a cartoon, you’d imagine a lightbulb drawn at the top of your head lit brightly. This was your shot. Your time to beg and beg until he agreed to take you under his wing.

With a small skip to your step, you follow after Rafe in between the few trees on the beach. You lose sight of him for a second before you spot him again. His back is facing you but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling to the ground. Carefully, you start approaching him.

“Hey,” you gently reach out and tap his shoulder. This startles him. And before you know it, you feel a thousand grains of sand in your eyes. You yell, hands immediately covering your eyes. “Oh my god! What the fuck?! What the fuck?!”

“Holy shit!” You hear him yell. The two of you are yelling now. You don't think you’ve ever heard such a big and tough man like him yell in the way he does. So high pitched. Or maybe that’s just you. But you’re in too much pain to pay any attention. “Why would you fucking creep up on me?!”

“I thought you weren’t okay!”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?!”

“Cause you were kneeling on the floor like a freak!”

“How does that make me a—“

“I think I'm going blind! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” You can’t help but cry out, unable to open your eyes fully because of the sand in them. “Why the fuck would you throw sand in my eyes?!”

“I thought I was being attacked!”

“I only touched your shoulder! Do you think an attacker would lightly tap your shoulder to attack you?! Take me to the hospital!” You’re screeching. You know this. But you can’t open your eyes and this means to panic. Or at least, it is to you.

He sighs, calming down. Or not. You can’t see anything, eyes shut tight. The way the sand grains feel in your eyes only drives you even deeper into a panic. “You don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Then the eye doctor!”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“Oh my god, I’m never gonna see anything ever again! Do you know how much I like to see things?!”

“I’m assuming a lot?”

“A lot! Oh my—“

“Stop saying ‘oh my god’. Fuck, do you have any other phrase?”

You scoff, eyes still covering your eyes which wouldn’t be able to open either way. “Just help me!”

“Fuck, fine! I’ll help you!” You jump when his hand grabs your wrist, tugging one of your hands off of your face. You figured he would tug and drag you behind him but you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s carefully guiding you through the thick trees and what seems to be back to the boneyard. When your feet hit asphalt, you’re sure you’re in the parking lot, taking you to his truck.

“Just… stay here.” He advises you as your back presses up against the cold touch of a vehicle. You heard a car door click open, some scrounging, the door shuts and he’s back in front of you. You’re not sure what he’s doing as he stands across from you, eyes still shut tight. It’s quiet for a moment except for the sound of distant waves crashing.

“Hello?” You reach out shakily, unsure of where exactly he is. Your hand meets his face in a light smack and he pushes your hand off.

“Get off of me.”

“What the fuck are you doing just standing there? Help me!”

You hear him sigh heavily, the sound of his shoes on asphalt. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but his hand taking a hold of your face, big hand sprawled over your chin and onto your cheeks, puckering your lips out softly isn’t it. It’s oddly tender for a man who’s supposed to be abrasive. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes for a second. Gonna flush ‘em out with water, alright?”

You have no words, you simply nod gently, opening your slightly burning eyes for him to flush them out. It takes a few gushes of water for your eyes to no longer feel grainy. The sleeve of your sweater is rubbing at your eyes tirelessly, the stinging unbearable. His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you away from your eyes again. “Stop doing that. It’s going to worsen it.”

You glare at him. The blurry version of him from how teary and red your eyes are. “It wouldn’t be bad in the first place if—“

“If you didn’t sneak up on me like a stalker.” His harsh words don’t deter you. His tone would have last week but not anymore. Normally, you'd feel a flutter of embarrassment or shame but after all that's happened in the past 48 hours, you can't find it in you to care.

“A stalker?! God, I just wanted to talk to you. You were kneeling over on the ground like you found a dead fucking puppy. Forgive me for wanting to check up on you.”

“This is a good lesson for you, kid—“

“Kid? Seriously?”

“A lesson to mind your own every now and then.”

You scoff but have no retort to throw back, tired and stinging eyes taking him in. His face is strong as usual, little to no emotion shown in them, even with the ridiculous sight of your extremely reddened eyes and roughed up face, he shows nothing. You wonder why he is the way he is for a second before snapping back into reality. “You owe me for this.”

“Is this that “make you hot“ bullshit?” He snorts out what you think is a laugh. But he would never so you can’t find it in you to stew over it.

“Yeah and wh—“

“I’m not making you hot.”

“Ugh, please! Look, I really need this! And you almost blinded me so you have to.”

“I don’t have to do shit. You put your nose in someone else’s business, that’s what leads to sand in your eyes.”

“Yeah, but—“ you try again but he easily shuts you up by putting a single hand up, palm to your face. A look of amusement flashes through his eyes when he realizes it actually worked and you’re too worked up to fight back. You’re about to speak and he’s about to decline and fight you again when another voice speaks up.

“Yo, fight club!” John B calls out to you, a sleeping Sarah on his back. Beside him, Pope and Cleo are placating a tearful JJ as he hangs off their shoulders between the two of them. Kiara is wearing a random hat that reads ‘Fish Fear Me’, probably stolen by JJ and now a trophy for her. “We’re leaving.”

You turn to speak to Rafe but he’s already gotten into his truck and with a loud sigh of defeat, you walk over to your new group of friends. Kiara brings her arm over your shoulder easily, putting the hat she had on top of your head with a bright smile. They’re talking about god knows what as your eyes turn back to Rafe’s truck one last time. And you’re not sure if you’re making it up but you swear your eyes meet through the slide glass before he drives off.

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