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skrrts · 1 month

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stairs & life, up / down (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x kim hongjoong ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, strangers to love interest, comfort, soft emotional ✧ word count: 10,4k ✧ warnings: adult language, smoking (don’t do it!), loneliness, end of friendships, moving on from a relationship, getting over heartbreaks, facing challenges in life, crying

The ripping sound of paper, the clicking of a mechanical keyboard. Loneliness sounds & feels different to everyone but somehow, Hongjoong feels like you understand his. Yet, you confuse him. Why was your first encounter so bold when he hears you crying at night when you think nobody is listening? The fire escape of the old building suddenly becomes a place of comfort he didn’t expect to find in the loneliest city, filled with millions of people but now, there is you.

a/n: when i think of summer, i think of spending long nights outdoors because it's still warm and you just talk for hours without worrying about whatever happens tomorrow. hongjoong & mc both went through some hardships with different types of relationships but they are where they want to move on, all they needed was a hand to grab them and help them going forward. thanks for reading 🤎

The sound of paper being torn apart was often how Hongjoong would describe what his own heartbeak felt like and maybe, if it wasn’t already in pieces, it would be now. Fifty hours of passion, sleepless nights, and love torn apart, a woman with an unpleasant face hissing when she dropped his art like it was a random document.

“There was no reason to destroy it just because you did not like it,” he finally stated and received glares for daring to speak up. “It was garbage, what exactly did you plan to do with it? In fact, every artwork you have shown me in the past few months has been just that. What was the point in hiring you when your social media works were all fake?!”

Hongjoong wanted to wince but somehow managed to keep it together, being called deceitful as an artist who had given up so much for his art was hard.

“My style is exactly the same as the work you saw when you contacted me and I work the exact same way,” he bit his lip when she stood up and seemed more interested in answering her phone which was constantly buzzing in her overpriced pouch. People of her rank often held no passion at all, they only faked it for the smiles and the press.

”You have another month, if you cannot come up with the proper concept, you are out and of course, we cut your payment in half again. After all, since you came here five months ago, you did not deliver anything we could work with. That’s all.”

Hongjoong was about to demonstrate but the director of the publishing agency just left him standing there.

He never wanted to come to New York, he could not care less about the city everyone wanted to live in but there had been nothing left for him back home. When he found the girl he loved and dated since high school being with another, the one he had given his whole heart to so foolishly, telling him it was a pity that kept them together for so long because just like so many other people around him, she judged him for his passion and his income rather than his values and happiness. Sure, he could survive from what he was doing but in their eyes, it was not worth to be called living. She dreamt of a house with a pool, a nice car, and an expensive beach vacation, rather than a cozy apartment, taking the bus and weekend trips.

On that day, when he was crying and walking through his hometown without direction, his parents said that it was time to finally grow up and work for a mindless ad agency that would gladly take somebody with his talent rather than chase his dreams of being permitted to illustrate an entire children's book, one with a deeper meaning unlike all the projects he was part of so far, where he often designed characters but based on guidelines rather than freely.

The invitation of a publisher seemed to be a wink of fate but now, Hongjoong simply found himself trapped in a city of millions, yet never having been more alone.

Maybe he always had been, considering how blind love made him, believing to hold the love of a woman who cheated on him for who knows how long, likely even making use of his nights of working and being home late.

He had been such a fool.

The small ringing of a bell announced his arrival as he entered the familiar small grocery store which always was the destination at the end of days like today.

One benefit in all of his misery, Hongjoong was used to managing his life with little money, he could live from the shortened salary with some tricking and ignoring cravings. There also had been savings for emergencies, put aside for better times.

“How do you even manage to survive when this is all you eat?” San frowned, pointing at the selection of instant noodles and a few cans as he scanned each one. The store belonged to his family and the student helped out frequently.

Hongjoong offered him a playful little grin: “Magic, Sannie. Now…”

He bit his cheek and the man knew, frowning: “Another package? You said you meant to quit smoking for good… you rather should get dinner rather than spend it on this shit.”

Painted nails brushed through dark wavy hair as he shrugged: “I’m an artist, we need to have some kind of weakness, yes? Unless I suddenly find a muse and that one makes me go insane.”

He knew the other meant well as he sighed but added a package into the plastic bag, handing it to him. “Just look out for yourself.”

Hongjoong smiled at the younger: “I always do. See ya.” The guy did not need to know what he was going through, maybe Hongjoong himself was still trying to understand just that.

It was easy to smile for everyone, he had become an expert in that field. Maybe he should join those TikTokers who made seminars out of canvas pages about something that barely was a secret but called it ‘Guide to Happiness’.

At least, he was about to be home, his haven. Hongjoong had been thrilled when he found the under-the-roof apartment because there was no AC and the building was rundown, the rent was cheap but he loved it because he easily managed to access the roof, there was nothing more beautiful than allowing himself to sulk in loneliness while watching the never sleeping city.

It was almost poetic, wasn’t it?

There also used to be the benefit of being the only one who did not put some shutters on the window which was the entrance to the fire stairs. The view was ugly, but it was handy to simply take the stairs and get right up.

Well, it used to be because the new tenant who moved into the apartment right underneath him did not seem to share the sentiment of the others, the window was always wide open and it would be creepy if he would rush past it.

He lurked up but Hongjoong noticed immediately how it was open again and he sighed, muttering to himself as he made the way up to the longer stairs. Too many. He dodged a few abandoned shoes of children in front of one, a growling dog at the third, and survived!

“I am home.”

When he unlocked the door, silence greeted him. There no longer was anyone who rushed over to smile and welcome him back but now, he was not even sure if that ever happened or merely being an imagination, an altered memory.

His apartment was small but that was okay, he didn’t need a living room and only having a tiny shower made being short less tragic.

While Hongjoong lived up to the cliche of being a poor artist, at least he did not need too much space.

His gaze went over the sketches still scattered over the kitchen table, picking one up: “Guess, you aren’t it either, sorry.” Unlike that awful woman, he carefully formed a small pile and put it in a paper tray for all his rejected designs, so far it had been every single one he offered to them.

Maybe it was time to give up…

No, this was not the time to cry and get sad! Urgh, hard enough to admit he had been such a crybaby when moving here, the way how his heart ached and he was lost among strangers. It was when he started smoking again, something he stopped years ago but now.

There was nobody who would complain about the smell.

Hongjoong slipped into the shower, running water always helped to wash away thoughts, he just imagined it as he carefully cleaned every inch before enjoying the feeling of a fresh pair of clothes and ruffling his hair with a towel.

“Attempt number seven it is,” he sat down, pulling over his tablet when a loud ringing sound interrupted the early hours of the night, enough to make him jump.

“The fuck?!” Hongjoong blinked, looking around but he was sure he didn’t even own an old-fashioned alarm clock. As the sound wouldn’t stop, he rushed to the window, lurking out only to realize it must be coming from your place. Why would you have an alarm clock going off at nine?!

Nobody else seemed to be interrupted by it but Hongjoong and he was working best at night. As nothing happened, he figured you probably just forgot to turn it off before leaving, how reckless to leave your window open in New York!

There was clear hesitation before he climbed out of his window, taking down the stairs: “Screw this…”

Your window was wide open, the curtains softly floating outside, all lights on. Your place was just a little bigger than his but you surely put more effort in! The walls were painted in a comfortable olive green, plants matched perfectly with the white furniture and there was a large gaming setup he did not really expect but then, what did he know about you? The bed was covered with far too many pillows but there it was, the one causing so much trouble.

The alarm clock had the shape of a flower, it was cute and he wondered how somebody who liked such a style would move to this part of the city…

“What do I do?” Hongjoong looked around. He counted to one hundred. There was nobody in sight, the sound drove him insane and he did not want you to get back home just to find your expensive equipment stolen. The world was an asshole to him but he intended to be better.

He swallowed and slipped inside your home, quick steps leading to the damn noisy item to turn it off. At that moment, the bathroom door opened and you walked inside, holding likely a few bottles of soap you just switched out, your gazes met and he could see how your face turned red, just like his own, and the next second, there was a small scream and you started to throw shampoo bottles at him.

Hongjoong tried to dodge them, dropping the alarm clock in the attempt and grabbed one of your pillows to protect himself.

“Hold on! Stop throwing things at me”, he called out but now you seemed angry.

“Why would I do this?! You just broke into my apartment! A thief? Gosh, you are one of those perverts, aren’t you?” You were one burst of energy, he had to give you that. Hongjoong was about to say something when he fell backward over another pillow.

His hands lifted up into the air, praying you’d not murder him with hair conditioner: “Hold on, hold on. I live above you! Your alarm wouldn’t stop and I thought you left so I meant to close the window, lots of robberies in this neighborhood!”

While your face remained distrustful, you held your movement in the middle of the air, frowning, doubting.

“Which neighbor breaks into a place to turn off an alarm bell?” you questioned and that was a good question. Who would have done that?

“Well, I actually work at night, I need a little bit of silence but how am I supposed to do this with that noise?” he pointed at the alarm once more and this time, you considered his words.

“Fine, let’s say it is the truth. It’s still weird, you could have used the staircase and just knocked on the door like any other angry neighbor would.”

That was… a very good point.

“I should have done that,” he admitted and slowly stood again. You were looking at him, maybe considering how he barely looked like a threat, considering he was wearing pajama pants and a hoodie with a washed-out brand name.

“Alright, I will forget about it. Now get out!” you pointed towards the window and Hongjoong found himself blushing in embarrassment. he clapped his hands, bowing slightly: “I promise to knock next time.”

As you hurried over, you wondered if he had seen right and there was a small smile on your lips as he carefully slipped out. As he turned around on the fire escape, you closed the window, and your gazes met for a moment, he was giving you a tiny wave before you rolled your eyes and closed your curtains.

Hongjoong stood there, blinking for a moment until he sighed and made his way upstairs, just to be greeted with the wind likely having shut his own, forcing him to go all the way down like that and up to his apartment. Thankfully he didn’t lock the door yet when he came home earlier.

“Tch, such a reckless neighbor,” he smiled.

“Oh? Oh! This is new!” Wooyoung fished the box with flower-shaped chocolate out of the paper bag. Hongjoong made a face, trying to snatch it but the younger grinned, holding it up.

“They are also kind of expensive, do you have a crush?” It took some effort but eventually, he stole his box bag and gave it to San who was scanning them.

“I am not in love, I just kind of pissed off one of my neighbors and now I intend to make it up somehow since they live in the apartment right underneath me,” he put quite a bit of effort in leaving out as many details as possible because Wooyoung would be curious enough to just knock on your window to see himself.

“Right, you said somebody moved into the empty apartment? Took some time, you mentioned that it was already without a tenant when you moved in.”

He appreciated the cashier was offering some distraction to his best friend’s consideration of just going with Hongjoong, he did not need to say it out loud for the older to guess as much.

“Ah yeah, the landlord was surprised when he offered that one but I asked about the rooftop apartment instead. I just like the peace and quiet, nobody above me, all that,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his neck.

“The Lone artist above the rooftops of New York City, romantic if you asked me,” Wooyoung winked and grabbed his backpack. “Anyway, time for training, call you later San!” He waved and rushed off, the other just smiled before handing the grocery bag to Hongjoong.

“I am sure the person knows to appreciate it, this is the first time I have seen you try and … well, mention to interact with anyone outside of this store.”

Hongjoong tried his best not to swallow hard. While San only was having a casual conversation, he called out something that the artist had tried to avoid admitting: he had dodged everyone and everything ever since coming here.

The hurt was still too deep, the way the person closest to him, he smiled at and kissed every day, threw him away like trash and everyone else saying he should understand how it certainly wasn’t an easy life rather than taking his side

or just offer comfort.

He could have used a hug.

Now, it was hard to let anyone in. San and Wooyoung were nice but they just were two guys working at a grocery store that was conveniently close to his apartment, as kind as they seemed.

“I just really like living here, sure, the neighborhood’s a bit … tense at times but otherwise, the rent is really cheap and the place is great to work at, not much noise considering we are in a city of this size.”

San was looking at you, it was hard to tell if he took it or simply decided to keep his thoughts to himself but he smiled: “Well, just make sure to also enjoy the city, not only busy yourself with work. I know, artists are said to do that but yeah.”

It was as if he wanted to say more but Hongjoong already waved in tiny, grabbing his bag: “Speaking of that, I have a deadline so I better be going. Thanks again.”

Hongjoong was out the moment after, he could not hear San’s deep sigh when the bell rang once more.

He spent a good amount of time drawing a little doodle that looked like your alarm clock, looking upset and cursing about that weird guy in a little thought bubble. Next to it, Hongjoong wrote, "Sorry for having broken into your place, heard this chocolate is great." He was pleased with the result and carefully stepped outside his window, placing the little delivery right by your window, knocking against the glass, and he rushed upstairs, jumping into his own home as he waited for the noise of you opening.

His heart was beating loudly when he lurked around the corner, hearing you sigh but in a pleasant way. He did not dare to fully look, biting your lip but after a very long minute, he could hear your voice: "Just knock next time you want to say hello."

Your laugh was so soft and cute.

He grinned when the window was shut a moment later and the chocolate was gone.

Hongjoong had a talent for forgetting about time when he was working and it was less about the deadline and more so about his passion. He always loved to draw, it had been his escape from a young age and he pushed through it, no matter the concerns of everyone around him. He never wanted to be rich, just do what he loved and make enough to be able to live from it.

In a way he did, his old apartment was small but nice with a lovely view and enough space for two. Looking back, he had been a fool how he thought that his ex would enjoy it, that she liked they took their time and both added to a dream of a larger home. The series he illustrated with a few other artists for a children's magazine was doing well then, he knew it was one of the favorites in consideration of being further produced with another spin-off when it happened, Hongjoong quit.

Just like most, he also worked digitally but when he was in the early stages, he often liked to reach out for old-fashioned paper, getting a few sketches done. It was when his pencil rolled from the table that he pulled the chunky headphones from his ears to pick it up when he heard it for the first time.

It was a quiet sob, the kind where you hated yourself and just wanted to stop but your body was boycotting you, ignoring your quiet pleas for it to stop. Hongjoong had done the same for a while after coming to New York but somehow, yours hit him more than he expected. The way you faced him when he came in, the conversation after.

He should know better than assuming you were a confident person just doing your thing.

His slim figure pressed against the wall next to the open window when he listened to how you cried.

It was strange, when the heart ached, even a city like this could fall in utter silence, making one feel even more alone. He bit his lip, it was hard to listen to it and when he finally convinced himself that checking on you was more important than his fear of interrupting, the small clicking sound to pull his window fully open seemed to be enough to chase you inside like a bird fleeing from busy human steps.

All Hongjoong managed to see was the way how your lights turned off and for a moment, he wondered if you maybe prayed that he did not come down to see, that the weird guy above you just opened his window to let him some refreshing air in at the end of Summer.

He was trying to recall all of those nights after you moved in, where he kept his window open and so did you. What did he hear then? There had been that clicking sound, he could hear it any time he ended up sneaking up to the roof to smoke a cigarette. He never put much thought into it but now, you always seemed to be typing on your keyboard and you were home all the time, just like he was.

When he returned from groceries, your lights were on, and when he lurked outside in the morning, the window open.

In a movie, he probably would have thought more about it and told himself to see if it would happen again. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe you were just going through a hard breakup.

Just.

Maybe, if anyone had been more gentle with Hongjoong, he'd not have felt the need to move far away in a desperate attempt of moving on.

No, things would have been different if people would have acted and wasted less time guessing.

"Screw this," he cursed and walked over to the mirror. He was trying to fix his hair but it was a mess so he grabbed a hoodie and put on some summer shorts, cigarettes shoved inside of his pockets, two bottles of soda in each hand.

If you thought he was insane after this, he could live with it, really. He preferred it above having to regret wondering what happened tonight.

Hongjoong took two stairs at once until he was in front of your windows, curtains closed and while it was dark, he could see a small gleam of light, likely from your phone. He took a deep breath before knocking again.

"Hi there, it's me. Again... Uh I am Hongjoong! I know I am probably starting to get annoying, and if you decide to not answer, please just do not call the police.... I was just thinking, maybe you want to have a soda with me? I can't slepe either, I tend to work through the night.

He rambled because this was how he found comfort, he did not need to hear specific words, just little affirmation, a gesture of love. It could be something silly.

When you did not answer, he bit his lip and looked around: "Uh, I will sit down here and smoke one cigarette. If you decide not to come when it's done, I promise I go back up. I'll leave you one bottle there."

He called, placed it down carefully, and moved over to the stairs, taking a few up before sitting down, opening his own drink before lightening the cigarette.

He was exhaling only for the first time when the window opened: "You know, smoking is super unhealthy?"

Your voice did not indicate that you were crying but he could see your eyes still being red and puffy. Hongjoong looked at you like you were amazing just like that.

"You are right, I admit, I only picked the habit up recently again."

He blinked surprised when you grabbed the bottle and sat down by his side, just to take the cigarette away and inhale the smoke. He was blushing, not having expected such a bold move after you cried.

"Guess, we can make it a bad habit just for tonight then," you breathed and used the stairs to open the bottle, drinking it more like it was a party drink rather than ordinary soda, offering the cigarette back.

Hongjoong was in awe, he did not assume you would be so outgoing, although he had no doubt you were brave considering the way you two encountered face to face for the first time. The thought let him grin a little: "Sounds good to me."

His gaze wandered back over the not-that-pretty view: "The sight from the roof is pretty amazing, not sure if you maybe want to have a look another night. I can show you how to get up there."

You laughed, relaxing back: "Why am I not surprised you went up there?"

The man looked innocently: "Well, I have a lot of time to think when I am settling for a design."

The word seemed to gain your interest and you leaned in: "You work at night and that doodle was really cute. Is it something artistic you are doing for a living?" The question was fair and straightforward, leading him to shrug just a little. Most people were disappointed about the answer, somehow it did not seem to be a popular idea when it came to art.

"I work as an illustrator for children's books or that is the preferred one, I also do magazines or commercial designs for such. As for books, I do both, the traditional ones for young kids where the images carry most of the story but I also occasionally take scenes from books for older audiences, you know, mainly those right before young adults where you find little images between the chapters? Mh, I dream to make one exactly in the design I want but for now, I am stuck to work with criteria set by the publishers."

Hongjoong learned to explain what he was doing right away because when it came to illustrations, people often thought about the really expensive artworks connected to infamous titles. You did not really seem to bother with the clichés, instead, your face was so bright and excited, that he was feeling shy.

"That's so cool? I only got into reading because of those kinds of books. I mean, I get it, you are supposed to go wild with your imagination when it comes to reading but I always preferred those pages that told me what to expect but that makes sense, I'm a number person. I like facts."

Numbers, huh.

"This is the very infamous part where I offer to you that if you ever want to see something, knock on my window any time or well, I guess. You have all the right to just walk in through my window. I am awful and my phone is my alarm clock tho," he teased with a more confident grin and you returned it gladly.

"I will keep it in mind, Hongjoong." You stretched.

"It's getting late and you wasted your cigarette, I will take that as a sign to withdraw," you smiled and picked up your bottle, standing. The artist was a little disappointed but it was fair, he knew it had been far after midnight when he heard you crying but now, he was happy to see you relaxed.

"Maybe I will come back to your offer," you hummed and walked down to your window. "Oh, by the way, I am __ and don't be too disappointed, I am a software engineer. That is also why I am home all the time, the bliss of being able to dodge offices but I feel, that you know well."

As you slipped inside, you were about to close the window before lurking out again: "The chocolate was tasty, thank you."

As the window shut, Hongjoong stood there, smiling to himself.

He didn't remember ever having felt as tense in the past when handing in drafts. His old publisher had been a guy in his early 60s and even in the early stages of Hongjoong's 'career', supporting them to test their own ideas within the limits of the work. Something about getting a poor payment but at least, being able to do their thing.

There was yet a small voice of hope, one that told him this piece of paper would not be torn apart because the woman was looking at it far longer than she had at any other of his earlier designs. After hanging out with you, Hongjoong had worked nonstop, a new adrenaline rush that helped him get done with it.

Finally, he exhaled when she leaned back, placing it on the desk: "Finally, something we can work at. I approve of the cats, I expect a more detailed version at the end of the week. The dogs are too ... basic. There is just nothing memorable about them, I want two pairs of options for them. That would be all, Mister Kim."

Hongjoong could live with that! The cats were the story's main protagonists about a pair of cat siblings moving with their owners to a new city and dealing with all of the changes. Yeah, maybe it did not seem like a deep story, just another book to offer comfort to kids moving but the name on both, the writer and label were big... opening doors. What else did he have left than his career and maybe, the nagging desire to show everyone how he could do it?

I would rather be happy tho, and loved.

He only gave her a quick nod as she seemed busy again, slipping out of the office. "Why is this such a pain...." he mumbled and checked his phone. Would it be weird or too early to ask you for your number? Hongjoong hadn't given it to anyone, well except San because he got permission to use the convenience store as a secondary address, should packages fail to be delivered to his door.

Hongjoong could not deny that he was tempted to look you up online but he did not log into any of his accounts since coming to New York. If anything... he did not even tell anyone. He just sold everything, quit his job, and moved. The only person who knew was his older brother, who had been supportive unlike the rest of the family but accepted his wish to remain hidden for some time.

"Honjgoong!"

Hearing his name out in the open made him wince and he blushed when he noticed it was you who called out for him. You were smiling, waving confidently, ignoring gazes. Maybe you really just had a tough day last night. It was so hard to imagine you being somebody who cried a lot.

"Seeing you out in the wild, I am scared," he teased with a grin, walking to your side. You pointed at the heavy bags with groceries, making him realize what you wanted.

"I see how it is, somebody asking me to make the stairs my workout," he chuckled as you looked innocently. "How about, we call it quits then, for good? And in return, you can use the fire escape as often as you want, no worries. You did start to avoid doing that because of me, didn't you?"

He was surprised by the question: "Uh... how do you know about that?"

You laughed and it was sweet, he preferred seeing you happy: "Well, when I signed the contract, the owner told me the guy above likes to take them so he advised me to put something in front of the window but then, nobody ever came."

It was your way to tell him you appreciated he tried to think of your comfort, wasn't it?

"If you are sure, I rather like walking them. I got one of those window locks, I found them on a website and they are really handy. I just prefer it because the dog from the lady on the third floor, he hates me," he admitted.

It seemed to amuse you: "Not surprised, you remind me of a cat or maybe more of a fox? Mh, I love them equally, pick the one you prefer." You rushed ahead while he took the bags, rubbing a hand over his face. Ah, it was a talent of yours, wasn't it? Making him blush.

Thankfully, it wasn't too far from the building and Hongjoong got up all the bags in no time.

"Do you want to come in?" your offer showed a hint of hesitation and Hongjoong was overworrying again. Would it be strange to accept it? Was he too keen on showing how he really would like it?

"Sure, I have some time until nightfall. I have to update some of the designs, they finally accepted two of them," he made sure not to stare, not only to be polite but he already had seen your apartment when he broke in last time.

You opened the fridge and offered him a bottle of cool water, one he gladly accepted. "You said, you do like computer things... Don't mind me, I do not know a whole lot about it. I admit, when I was here last time, I thought you might be a gamer."

His Ex used to watch Twitch streams, something about finding them relaxing.

He regretted the question the instant he asked because of how your expressions slipped.

"Ah, you could say I used to enjoy gaming? It was something I did with a ... former friend." The way you reacted hinted likely it must have been a really good friend, or why else would you look so hurt about saying such a thing` Friendships ended so often, yet this one must have meant a lot to you.

Hongjoong tried not to read too much into your expressions, he did not know you well enough to have a right of doing so, likely just misreading it.

"I am sorry to hear. My friends and family weren't always so keen on my obsession with working for book illustrations either. I would not say they meant to tell me to instead work a proper job but they thought, I should just work for some big company that needs them for ads and such but that is just so soulless, you know?"

His confession was too honest but he felt comfortable with you, sharing it. Maybe it really was because you were strangers and you did not know him or his past, you wouldn't judge him based on that.

He prayed you'd not. You seemed to think about it before saying with the kindest smile: "Following your dreams is important, Hongjoong. I get that, families always mean well but sometimes, we have to figure things out on our own."

He was too nervous to offer a good answer.

"Anyway!" the quick smile was forced but he accepted it. "You said, you know how to get up on the roof? I was thinking, we could do it tonight? It sounds silly but there will be a star shower... I do not think we can see it in a city like this but we can pretend to! I shopped for some snacks, we can make it our own little event."

Hongjoong blinked, eyes big when you invited him: "Oh! Sure! I can make some time, just knock on my window!" He did not have the time based on the deadline... but he would get it done for you! Sounded like time to fight the habit of sleeping in and work during sunlight hours for a change.

"Awesome, I'm excited then!"

There was not too much else to be said it seemed, your thoughts clearly elsewhere, and Hongjoong could only guess it was because of your friend.

The illustrator spent an hour trying to pick an outfit. Tanktop, skinny jeans, some jewelry, he even picked a barret he hadn't worn in ages but it seemed the best way to deal with his hair, even his nails were repainted before he climbed up and prepared a small cozy corner, a blanket, two pillows and a few LED candles.

By the time you knocked on his window, he was almost terrified he made it look too much like a date but then, he looked at you and it seemed, you had a similar mindset. You looked stunning, and the backpack hinted you got more than a few snacks.

"You look amazing," Hongjoong complimented, he liked your style. "Sush, you sure you aren't a model and just failed to tell me?" You brought up the cliche line but it made him laugh: "Well, I tried."

As he joined you, he led you up the stairs which ended abruptly. "If you pull here, there is actually a hidden ladder," he explained and showed it to you. "Very handy, and you can simply pull it up from up there so nobody sees it."

You seemed amazed just how simple it was and carefully climbed up first.

"Oh Hongjoong, this is so pretty!" you gasped, looking at his little setup. The sun vanished just a little while ago and the candles created a nice atmosphere.

"Well, how often does one get invited to star gazing at my age? I thought it would be nice," he explained, chewing his lip as he helped you take off the backpack.

"Well, I guess it is good then I brought an entire picnic!" Indeed, you did but it wasn't just snacks, you prepared the meal obviously yourself and it made him wonder. Did anyone other than his mother ever do this for him?

"This looks delicious!" he clapped his hands together, looking over it.

"Mh, I cannot promise the taste can live up to the looks because it has been a while since I made most of these dishes," you admitted and offered him a pair of chopsticks but he shook his head: "It already smells great, and nothing can betray that."

You seemed to enjoy how expressive Hongjoong was in showing just how much he loved your cooking. His face did not manage to hide it but it was to no surprise, not only because it was tasty but because he had been living off ramyun for the past couple of months due to his cut salary.

"This is so good, I will vote for you as home cook of the year," he mumbled between trying to chew and swallowing.

"Hongjoong, are you sure you ate in the past month or two? You are eating like you were about to starve," you smiled but there was a little concern in your voice as you ate slowly.

The artist carefully placed his chopsticks aside, contemplating if it was okay to be so honest but since he already shared quite a bit with you, it seemed fair.

"To be honest, I came here a little unplanned. I got this really amazing deal or it sounded like that but the publisher CEO lady has rejected all of my designs of the past few months and they cut my salary in half every time. I get around with some savings but food wasn't on top of my priority list."

Now you did seem concerned and sighed: "You know what? She is stupid! I looked up your work and it's so cute? I mean it! I know nothing about that business branch but I like it, they are cute and as a kid, I'd have loved them but also... I used to share a place with somebody and I have a hard time getting rid of the habit of cooking more than I need. How about you come over here and then, and pick up the rest? I hate to throw away so much."

Did you look him up? Oh, that was unexpected. Hongjoong was just looking at you in awe and you seemed a little confused by it.

"You do not have to, of course!" It seemed you both were good at misreading.

He hurried to wave his hands: "Oh no! I'd love that! I just... was a little shy when you looked it up. I appreciate it. If you ever need a doodle or like ... anything drawn, let me know. I like doing it for people."

As he looked at you somehow, it felt like you two were the same. Something happened which brought you here, leaving behind a very different life but now that you sat in front of him like that, Hongjoong was so grateful and he tried to place the meaning of his heart beating just a little too enthusiastically right now.

"You know, when I was in high school, I was befriended with this really amazing guy, Hwa. He moved away with his parents before graduation but after exams, when we both knew we screwed up really badly. He would drag me up to the rooftop of our school and play silly songs from the early 2000s we danced to. I know that sounds insane but how about... we do that?"

Hongjoong didn't think about Seonghwa in a long time. He tried to find him online a few years ago but it seemed the older did not think too much about social media either.

"You want to dance?" you chuckled and checked your phone: "Well, I'd say we have another hour until the promised star shower so let's do it. You will have to provide the music tho, I forgot to close my Spotify on my computer."

Hongjoong grinned: "No worries, I got us."

It was funny but he remembered the song and there was an entire playlist dedicated to the vibe he wanted to go for. Relaxed and soft, a little silly but not embarrassing. He ensured the volume wouldn't cause too much attention but you did not seem to care at all.

When the melody and the lyrics began you just let go. Hongjoong swallowed as he watched you and for the first time in a long time, suddenly he was feeling... excited? It was different from a grand job offer or moving, it was more like that telling himself life would go on actually was real. That good things still would happen if he just kept on going.

"What are you waiting for? Don't tell me you are getting shy now," you moved closer to him, taking his hands without hesitation before starting to dance together. The shuffle was doing a good job because it went from energetic, leading to the two of you just silly jumping and vibing to something a little slower and before he knew it, his arms were curled around your figure and you rested your head against his shoulder as you moved with the music.

"This is nice," you whispered, your gaze seemed to be far off in the distance. "I forgot how nice it can be just like that." You sighed deeply without saying anything else but Hongjoong quietly agreed as his hug tightened a little. "It really is."

It was only when your phone started to ring and you withdrew that he was a little disappointed. "Okay, time for the stars!" you smiled, looking around before glancing back at the blanket. "Let's do it like we are in the countryside!"

Without hesitation, you grabbed a pillow and laid down, looking up to the sky which was just dark, the light of electricity stealing the beauty of the night. Hongjoong laid down next to you, looking up.

"Isn't this the most beautiful night sky you have ever seen?" you gasped, pointing towards nothing: "There they are! Okay, time to make your wish but remember, you can't tell anyone!"

You were so bright and outgoing, Hongjoong envied you but also quietly was thankful how you tickled this out of him again. Even before his breakup, he had been so busy struggling with work and expectations, when did he act so carefree for the last time?

"Working on the wish," he whispered and closed his eyes.

His wish for life never changed: be happy, together with people who truly loved and cherished him and he'd do the same for them.

He winced when he felt your cool hand reaching out, squeezing him and his head turned around, the beret slipped from his hair as your gazes locked. There was another moment of hesitation but you rolled onto your side, your eyes saying what words did not manage but they did not need to as you slowly closed them. Hongjoong's hand was placed on your cheek and you met in the middle into a tender kiss.

It was nothing breathtaking like in the movies, much more a kiss between students who never kissed before but yet, were so lost in the moment that they didn't worry. It only lasted for a little before your lips parted: "Guess, my wish already came true just now."

Hongjoong blushed, he wanted to say more but there was a small quacking sound. The two of you sat up immediately.

"Did you hear that?" you whispered. Hongjoong nodded: "Nobody ever comes up here and I come here almost every day since I moved in." You exchanged a few gazes before carefully standing up, following him closely, hiding behind the chimney.

Suddenly, a large figure dressed all in black jumped up like a ninja in a movie. You gasped but Hongjoong just blinked.

"Wooyoung?!"

"Wooyoung?"

"Wooyoung!"

San's figure showed up right behind his best friend, who was tugging on his jacket, clearly catching his breath. "I told you not to do this!" The younger man was just grinning: "But I had to make sure I left an impression!"

You chuckled as Hongjoong pointed to you that it was okay.

"I take it those are your friends?"

The word made Hongjoong blink. He saw these two idiots almost on a daily base now, he talked to them and while he never shared any personal details, they never treated him like other customers or a stranger.

He really did a great job on distancing, didn't he? Considering he claimed to have nobody but just made friends without realizing it.

"Something like that," Hongjoong said with a quick smile but Wooyoung already pulled him closer, pressing his cheek against his. "Sh, he is just shy! We are the best buddies!"

Hongjoong yelped and now was sparring with Wooyoung while San rubbed a hand over the back of his neck: "Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt your date. Wooyoung has a hard time keeping his curiosity in check."

You hummed, knowing Hongjoong didn't hear it. Maybe it was for the better.

"That's okay. Actually, that's what I like about him. He's chaotic, just like me."

You clasped your hands together, cheering. "So Wooyoung! We got some food left, are you hungry?"

The younger stopped, grinning: "Always!"

Hongjoong groaned when he was woken up by loud noises coming from the staircase. He rolled onto his side, face lit up by his phone screen. It wasn't even seven but for some reason, it seemed neighbors decided to make a fuss. There was screaming, he was sure about that.

He grabbed a pair of sneakers, not caring too much about all else and decided to have a look because it seemed a little too loud considering you and an elderly woman lived the floor underneath.

The moment he recognized your voice, Hongjoong stopped all logical thinking, he took two stairs at once to face a very upstyled woman around his age. Expensive brands and overdone makeup, there was an envelope open, torn paper on the ground, and you were all in tears.

"What's going on?!" Hongjoong rushed to your side but you barely seemed to recognize him.

"How did you even find out where I live?! I won't sign this just go!" you yelled and it seemed to make the woman just more angry.

"___, stop being so stubborn! Just sign the damn rights! You are not part of the team anymore, you have no use for the brand name! Just sign it and we never have to meet again!"

By now, more neighbors had come and the least Hongjoong wanted for you was to deal with the police.

"Hey, get in. I will take care of it," he whispered to you, both of his hands on your cheeks to force you to look at him through teary eyes. It was when you finally realized you weren't alone, you swallowed hard, nodded but carefully withdrew. When the woman tried to get in, Hongjoong pushed her back.

"If you do not leave now, we will call the police! If you have any needs, use a lawyer!" he remembered how his mother watched those shows when he was little, they always just yelled about lawyers.

"Who are you? Loverboy? God, how can one person fall so low? Living in this shithole and now this?" she hissed, spitting on the ground before leaving. Hongjoong waited to ensure she'd not get back up before he slipped inside, closing your door.

You had curled up on your bed and he was a little overwhelmed but it did not matter. Hongjoong called out your name gently as he sat down on the edge of the bed, wanting to make sure you knew he was there, maybe his way of asking for permission.

When you did not move, he curled his arms around you to pull you tight like back on the rooftop, hand gently patting over your back. He wasn't going to tell you it would be okay or ask you to stop crying because he knew that sometimes, mind or body did not want to, couldn't.

All one needed sometimes, was a hug and somebody there with you.

It was hard to say just how much time passed when you turned around slowly. Hongjoong loosened the hug a little without moving back and you looked at him.

"You do not have to tell me anything," he assured in his soft voice but you shook your head slowly. "I want to... it just... it's embarrassing."

This time, it was he who shook his head: "Nothing that makes you feel sad ever is embarrassing, ___. Your feelings matter, you know?"

He was relieved to see it brought a little smile to your lips.

"You know, that also is true for you. If you are sad... it's okay. I understand it. Please don't feel like you have to hide it."

So you did look right through him after all: "You got me there... It is hard to admit weakness... I guess, for me at least. I was hurt by the people I cared for the most. Now, it is hard, like how to let them in again, how to trust?"

Your fingers gently reached out, brushing over his cheeks and he held still like if he moved, you might vanish into thin air.

"I get that," you admitted. "You see, that woman used to be my best friend since middle school. A few years ago, we started to stream together for fun. I made good money with my job, so I bought the equipment and I really was okay playing more of a background role. We worked on it together but she was the star, I didn't mind she also streamed a lot without me but then, numbers rose and there was a sponsorship she did not tell me about. One day, I got home from my office, and all the equipment was gone, together with my best friend. I was locked out of the accounts, the savings I kept at home for emergencies were stolen, and well. She spread some nasty rumors about how I was jealous and things got ugly... So I moved here. It is hard, your best friend is usually the person you rely on for comfort when something awful happens but now, there was nobody and I am stupid, the type of person that fully believes in a friendship."

It was sad, to think how money always ruined everything, love and friendship. Hongjoong watched you as you spoke, going more into the details and he made sure to listen well, to show you that he didn't only do it because you two kissed or because of you crying. He really cared about you and wanted to understand you better so he did not have to fear again, that imagine of you alone on the fire escape.

"There is nothing awkward or embarrassing about your feelings. You trusted and lost her. You tried your best to start over, leave it behind but she cannot let it be for selfish reasons," Hongjoong concluded and you finally relaxed.

"Thank you for listening.... that really helped," you whispered. "I... if you ever want to..."

Hongjoong wondered for a moment. Did he want to talk about it?

Yes, but...

"Honestly, I am not sure if I am really ready yet to talk about it but one day... I will," he promised and placed a gentle kiss on top of your head.

"How about I make you some tea?" he offered with a smile as you looked at him, you nodded and you two slowly sat up. Hongjoong was very determined to wrap you properly in a blanket burrito, ruffling your hair gently before moving over to your kitchen. He could feel your eyes on him as he moved but he did not mind it.

A few minutes later, he handed you a cup of yasmin tea and you hugged it carefully, sipping on it.

"You make a very cute blanket cat," he teased, hoping to cheer you up. "Maybe one day, you will let me draw you like that." And finally, there it was, your beautiful laugh. "I will think about it."

Hongjoong sat down by your side, he turned on the TV and you relaxed against him as you watched a random show just to get your mind off and sipped your tea. It wasn't until there was a more gentle knock on the door and the familiar voice of the elderly lady.

"I will get it," he offered and rushed over. She seemed a little concerned: "My, so much noise in the early morning. Such an unpleasant woman. I wanted to see if everything is alright but I also noted, that your door is wide open Mister Kim."

His cheeks flushed as he realized, he rushed out earlier without bringing his key or closing it. "OH! Yes, thank you so much," he bowed and it made her chuckle: "You are very welcome. Fear not, Mister Corner on the second floor left his dog outside, I have no doubt nobody will dare to make the way upstairs today."

As she wiggled away, Hongjoong turned around but you smiled. "It is okay, I am feeling better. Thank you for looking out for me. I will see you later?"

He did not want to go but it likely was a good idea to give you some space. "Count on it."

As much as he hated it, he needed to put some time into work if he intended to finish everything within the deadline but now that Hongjoong had a reason to work extra hard, he was doing it no problem and within a few hours, he finished a few sketches. Those would do for angry CEO and he could dedicate his evening toward you.

He was taking his phone from his charger when he noticed a small notification. Hongjoong turned off such with the exception of receiving one when somebody new followed him. To his surprise, the name of his latest follower was 'Hwastar' and there was only one person who would use something like that.

It took him a few minutes to remember his password, he ignored all other messages other than the one of the follow and he followed back. Within a few minutes, a message popped up. It really was Seonghwa and to Hongjoong's surprise, the man was in New York, asking to meet.

When Hongjoong knocked on your door and you did not answer, he guessed you were asleep and he decided to go for it. Seonghwa had picked a cute coffee shop, something that suited him. While he looked the same, he was yet a whole new man. Tall, well-built and stylish, the long hair suited him well but the smile was as gentle as when they saw each other for the last time. "Joong! It's been too long!"

There was a quick hug before they sat down, he was sipping on a drink. "You look good, Joongie!" Hongjoong glanced down, he barely could say he wore anything unique but then, he just really had gotten used to his style. "Not like you who seems to go to fashion week."

Seonghwa blushed a little before waving his hand: "Nah, I work for a small publisher." Hongjoong wasn't surprised to hear it. Seonghwa always loved to read and was great with all kinds of people "That's great! I am glad it worked out for you."

His old friend smiled before to the younger's surprise, he pulled out one of the children's books Hongjoong worked on as part of a team.

"I only recently moved to New York because we moved our office here. When I walked through some bookstores, I came across this one. I am glad to see you still do art... When I went home last time, my mom said you left and nobody really knew where you went."

So he did hear about it, huh?

"Breakups can be ugly, I guess I wanted to start over." Hongjoong finally said what he had not to anyone until now. It was hard to say it out loud because that way, there was no chance to deny it, to hide the truth about the why, and how it had come to this. Maybe because there was this old trust he had for Hwa that made him say it out loud now but it was impossible to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Seonghwa had an understanding, sad smile on his lips: "I know you loved her. You two already dated back then... but Hongjoong... I am also proud you are moving on, and didn't stop."

It really was difficult to let negative emotions take over when Seonghwa looked at him like that. He pulled out his business card: "I know you are currently working with a bigger name but we actually finally expanded to books that require some illustrations and my boss would love to meet you. Why don't you think about it? The offer is there, no expiration, whenever you want."

Hongjoong accepted it with surprise, looking at the cursive font he was sure was inspired by his friend's handwriting.

How did things finally fall in line? Was it because he was ready to let them?

Hongjoong looked up and smiled: "I will definitely call."

When he came back, it had gotten dark. As Hongjoong took the fire escape up, your window was wide open and you sat on the stairs, the wind playing with your hair and you seemed lost in thoughts but the moment you saw him, the way you smiled, he knew.

His heart finally exhaled, it held its breath for so long, scared of what would happen if it let go of all that was and no longer would be.

Now it knew it was okay. Breathing would hurt for a little while but eventually, the beat would fall back in line as it should. Painful memories remained but it would keep beating.

The wisdom wasn't wrong, life went on.

Hongjoong smiled back as you made space for him and he got comfortable, his gaze wandering over the cityscape of New York or the bit you managed to get from here.

"it really is ugly, isn't it? I mean, all we get to see are the lower side of those giant ass buildings;" you joked and he laughed, shaking his head: "No, we do not but we have the rooftop. Not that I mind this."

He closed his eyes: "It really is a great escape, I would say, we need those stairs everywhere in the world."

You hummed: "I agree. Just that we need little stickers on the windows, one that tells us that if the alarm won't go off and the windows open, just throw a shoe or something."

Hongjoong smiled innocently at you: "But how do I get my shoe back then?"

You grinned: "Well, by knocking, of course. Then, I have an excuse to invite you in."

You did not need an excuse, he gladly would come and visit you. As you looked at each other, a certain silence spread, and Hongjoong played with one of his bracelets.

"I got my heart broken very badly," he admitted. "I guess, I was blind? Maybe I just was so in a habit of having it that way, that I did not think it could change? It hurt a lot and I ran like a coward but now, maybe this is just how I am. Sometimes, I do stupid things that turn out to be good but I am also blind like needing forever to realize how I made friends just by being myself or that I can feel again."

As he looked at you, turning around, you suddenly hugged him tightly. "It is okay, you do not have to tell me everything, ever or just take your time. I will be here, whenever you are ready," you whispered and Hongjoong was surprised.

Argh, he hated how tears started to dwell up at the corners of his eyes. This was all he wanted for so long but now, here you were and you were so much more than comfort, the promise of a future where his heart was beating not only to live but love. Again.

"I really like you," he admitted, voice soft and husky. "I like you too," you repeated and for a moment, you just held each other.

Hongjoong looked at you before he swallowed: "I'd like to see where it goes... but I might... need a bit of time before I am ready to go all ..."

You placed an index finger on his lips and smiled: "It's okay. We have all the time in the world. Summer is not over yet, many nights on the rooftops. Then, when autumn comes, we go chase leaves in Central Park, and in Winter, we can wear big fluffy coats and share a scarf. Then Spring, we plant flowers on the rooftop, and when Summer comes again. We will be here, together. Close or as friends, I will be here, count on it."

You really were so dreamy, it made sense now why your room looked the way it did.

And he loved how you were bold and silly and this.

"I cannot promise not to be spontaneous, and I might would like us to be more than friends," he admitted and you smirked: "I love random and wild."

You squeezed his hand and Hongjoong was looking forward to all seasons. In this lonely city full of people but now he had friends, old and new but most of all, you.

As you leaned in to kiss him, your alarm was going off. Hongjoong groaned but you tugged on his jacket.

"Sh, you can throw shampoo at it later," you promised and Hongjoong laughed.

"This alarm, it drives me insane," he whispered, your lips so close.

"So do you."

In the best way possible.

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong oneshot #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez au #ateez writing #kim hongjoong x reader #hj tag #hongjoong comfort #reis writes

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emjayewrites · 19 days

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Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (9/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @ffenthusiastt

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 9: New Horizons

Rorie stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the sleek Tommy Hilfiger outfit she was wearing for the promotional photoshoot. The partnership felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the recent turmoil. She smoothed down the crisp white blouse, tucked neatly into tailored navy trousers, a look that perfectly blended sophistication with her signature laid-back style.

"You look stunning, Rorie," the photographer called out. Rorie smiled, ready to face the cameras.

This shoot in the Culver City studio was the final piece of her campaign with Tommy Hilfiger. Most of the work had been done in New York a few weeks back - a whirlwind three days of shooting on the bustling streets of Manhattan, in Central Park, and atop a skyscraper with the city skyline as a backdrop. Those images had captured the essence of the brand's urban chic aesthetic, with Rorie as the perfect embodiment of modern, dynamic womanhood.

Today's shoot was for some additional lifestyle shots - casual moments that showed off the versatility of the collection. Rorie moved through a series of poses, from lounging on a minimalist sofa to standing by floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft California light adding a warm glow to each frame.

Between shots, Rorie chatted with the styling team, discussing the collection and her excitement about the partnership. It felt good to focus on her career, to have something positive to pour her energy into after the recent drama. And speaking of it, Deja finally managed to shut her mouth and stay off of social media.

That bitch needs her ass whooped...maybe I should've let KiKi drag her.

A couple of days ago, many of her good friends, KiKi being one of them, came to her defense and even threatened to hunt Deja down and let her reap the consequences of spreading lies, but as usual, Rorie was above the nonsense, and decided against it. Unfortunately, the damage from Deja was already done, and making things worse was not ideal, especially for her lawyers. A mixture of messages, ranging from support to vitriol continued to arrive daily in her comments and DM's, so much so that she had to disable both to safeguard her mental wellbeing.

All in all, work and home life was a welcomed - and needed - distraction from all of the bullshit.

"That's a wrap!" the director called out after a few hours. Rorie let out a small sigh of relief. As much as she enjoyed modeling, it was always intense work.

As she changed back into her own clothes, her phone buzzed with a message from Lewis:

Dinner with Fred Vasseur tonight. Big news. Love you.

Rorie's heart raced. She knew what this dinner could mean - a potential move to Ferrari for Lewis. It was exciting and terrifying all at once.

Later that evening, Rorie and Lewis arrived at Spago, Wolfgang Puck's flagship restaurant in Beverly Hills. As they approached the table, Fred Vasseur and his wife, Marie-Laure, stood to greet them.

"Lewis!" Fred exclaimed, embracing Lewis warmly and kissing him on both cheeks. "And the lovely Rorie," he continued, offering her the same warm greeting.

Marie-Laure followed suit, her elegant perfume wafting as she leaned in to kiss Rorie's cheeks. "It's wonderful to see you both," she said with a genuine smile.

As they settled into their seats, the sommelier approached, and after a brief consultation, Fred ordered a bottle of Château Margaux. "To celebrate old times and new beginnings," he said with a wink.

They then perused the menu, and the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from Lewis's recent races to Rorie's upcoming partnership with Tommy Hilfiger.

"I can't wait to see some of the campaign photos," Marie-Laure commented. "You'll bring such vitality to the brand."

Rorie's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. It's been an exciting project to work on."

After their appetizers were cleared away, Fred leaned in, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "So, Lewis," he began, swirling his glass of wine. "How would you feel about wearing red in 2025?"

Lewis glanced at Rorie, who nodded encouragingly. She could see the spark of excitement in his eyes, but also a hint of hesitation.

"I've been thinking," Lewis began, his voice thoughtful. "I've been with Mercedes for so long, and Toto has been incredible. But we haven't been winning races or championships lately, and I'm not getting any younger."

Fred nodded understandingly. "We know it's a big decision, Lewis. But we believe Ferrari can give you the car to claim those additional World Driver's Championships before you retire."

Lewis leaned forward, his expression serious. "If I come to Ferrari, I want to do more than just drive. I want to implement DEI trainings, make the team more inclusive, like I did at Mercedes."

"Absolutely," Fred agreed enthusiastically. "We've been impressed by your work off the track as much as on it. Your vision aligns perfectly with where we want to take Ferrari."

Rorie watched the exchange with pride, seeing Lewis's passion for both racing and social change shine through.

"It's not just about the championships," Lewis continued. "It's about leaving a lasting impact on the sport and the team."

Marie-Laure smiled warmly. "And that's exactly why we want you, Lewis. Your influence extends far beyond the racetrack."

As the main course arrived, they delved deeper into the details - the contract terms, the vision for the future, and the potential impact Lewis could have on the team culture.

By the time dessert was served, the foundations of a deal were firmly in place. As they said their goodbyes, with promises to finalize everything in the coming weeks, Rorie felt a mix of emotions washing over her. This move would be huge for Lewis's career and his broader goals, opening up new opportunities and challenges.

The drive back to their Malibu home was quiet, the usual LA traffic surprisingly light. Lewis held Rorie's hand tightly as he navigated the nighttime streets, the city's lights twinkling around them. Despite the silence, Rorie could sense the nervous energy still bubbling within Lewis. His thumb absently traced circles on her hand, a telltale sign of his racing thoughts.

Once home, they relieved Nina and settled in the backyard, watching the waves crash against the beach in the distance. The rhythmic sound of the ocean provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"It's a big change," Rorie said softly, breaking the silence.

Lewis nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "It is. But it feels right, you know? A new challenge, a chance to make a real difference."

They talked about the potential move to Ferrari, the excitement and the apprehension intertwining in their words. The conversation then shifted to the ongoing situation with Deja.

"I still can't believe she did this," Lewis said, shaking his head.

Rorie sighed. "I know. And even though KiKi wants to fight Deja, she's still acting weird herself."

"What do you mean?"

"Tia told me that KiKi's back with her ex," Rorie replied hesitantly.

Lewis's brow furrowed. "Khalil?" When Rorie nodded, he let out a frustrated groan. "I thought she was done with him. What about Miles?"

Rorie leaned into Lewis's side. "Apparently, Miles was trying to move things into more serious territory, and KiKi got scared. Tia thinks it's because of her low self-esteem, and how Khalil never wanted to commit to her before."

"So she's falling back into old patterns," Lewis mused.

"Yeah. The girls and I are planning to talk to her about it. Kind of like an intervention, I guess."

Lewis chuckled softly. "Sounds intense. But necessary, probably."

Rorie nodded. "And... I think we both need to apologize to KiKi too. For placing suspicion on her. I feel so bad that we did that."

Lewis was quiet for a moment before agreeing. "You're right. We haven't been the best friends we could be." He pressed a kiss to his wife's temple. "Whatever comes next, we've got this," he murmured.

Rorie smiled, snuggling closer to him. "Together," she agreed, as the waves continued their endless dance with the shore.

The next few days went by quickly. With the Las Vegas Grand Prix approaching, Rorie found herself juggling preparations for an Almave pop-up bar during race weekend alongside her usual responsibilities. Managing multiple homes at once was proving to be a Herculean task. Their London house was undergoing renovations, with Lewis's brother Nicolas supervising the work. Her family was currently at their Colorado home, where she'd just hired a new housekeeper. The Monaco penthouse needed attention, and of course, there was their Malibu home to consider.

Rorie sighed as she thought about Luisa, their Malibu housekeeper, who'd been sick lately and rather short in their conversations. She made a mental note to send over a care package. As she juggled all these balls, along with her growing list of campaigns and ambassadorships, Rorie couldn't help but wish she were an octopus, with enough arms to handle everything at once.

"I really need to consider hiring a personal assistant," she muttered to herself as she confirmed yet another appointment.

Amidst all this, Rorie found solace in quiet moments at home with Lyric and Roscoe. Watching Lyric toddle after Roscoe, giggling with delight, Rorie felt content, which made her upcoming OB/GYN appointment all the more significant.

The day of the appointment soon arrived, and Rorie found herself in Dr. Chen's office. The waiting room was a vibrant space, with walls painted in soothing shades of blue and green. Colorful artwork adorned the walls, interspersed with framed photographs of smiling babies - all delivered by Dr. Chen herself. Soft background music and the gentle burble of a small fountain in the corner was a nice touch of calmness, and a refreshment station offered water, herbal teas, and fresh fruit, adding to the welcoming atmosphere.

In one corner, a play area was set up with soft foam mats and an array of toys. Lyric immediately gravitated towards it, joining a couple of other children in stacking blocks and rolling toy cars. Rorie and Lewis settled into the plush chairs, watching their son play.

"He's getting so big," Lewis murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice.

Rorie nodded, squeezing his hand. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

Lewis nodded, his eyes soft as he watched their son. "Do you think he's ready to be a big brother?"

Rorie considered for a moment. "I think so. He's been so gentle with younger kids at playgroup. We'll need to prepare him, though."

"Maybe we could start reading him books about being a big brother," Lewis suggested. "And involve him in setting up the nursery when the time comes."

"That's a great idea," Rorie agreed. "We should also make sure to give him extra attention, so he doesn't feel left out."

Their conversation was interrupted as a nurse in cheerful floral scrubs called their name. "Hamilton family?" she said with a warm smile.

Lewis stood, scooping up Lyric who protested leaving his new playmates. "Come on, little man," Lewis said, settling Lyric on his hip.

The nurse led them down a corridor lined with more baby photos and inspirational quotes about parenthood. "He's adorable," she commented, grinning at Lyric. "How old is he now?"

"Sixteen months," Rorie replied proudly.

"Oh, a big boy!" the nurse said, smiling at Lyric. "Are you being good to your Mommy and Daddy?"

"Say 'no'," Lewis joked, lightly pinching his son's cheek and causing the nurse to laugh.

They entered Dr. Chen's office, which was just as inviting as the waiting room. Soft, natural light filtered through gauzy curtains, and potted plants added a touch of nature to the space. The examination table was draped with a colorful, patterned cloth, making it look less clinical.

Dr. Chen greeted them warmly, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "How are we all doing today?" she asked, giving Lyric a little wave. As Rorie settled onto the examination table, Lewis sat nearby with Lyric on his lap. "And how have you been feeling, Rorie?"

"I've been feeling pretty good," Rorie replied. "A bit nauseous in the mornings, and I've had some weird cravings."

Dr. Chen nodded, making notes. "And you took a home pregnancy test, correct?"

"Yes, it was positive," Rorie confirmed, hope evident in her voice.

Dr. Chen began the ultrasound, and the room fell silent. Lewis held Rorie's hand tightly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. They both watched the screen intently, hope and anxiety mingling in the air.

As the minutes ticked by, Dr. Chen's brow furrowed in concentration. She moved the wand, checking different angles, her expression growing more concerned. Finally, she set down the wand with a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," she said gently, "but I'm not detecting a heartbeat. It appears to have been a false positive."

Disbelief etched on her face. "But... I've been feeling nauseous. I've had cravings. I haven't had my period..."

Dr. Chen's voice was compassionate as she explained, "Sometimes, stress can mimic pregnancy symptoms. Given everything that's been happening in your life recently, it's possible that stress is the cause of these symptoms."

Rorie fell silent and her heart sank, tears welling up in her eyes as she processed the information. Lewis, sensing her withdrawal, spoke up. "What are our options moving forward, Dr. Chen?"

Dr. Chen's tone was gentle but optimistic as she replied, "We still have two embryos frozen from your previous IVF cycle. If you're ready, we could discuss trying IVF again."

She went on to explain the process in detail, outlining the steps, potential risks, and success rates. Throughout the explanation, she maintained a tone of gentle encouragement, emphasizing that there were still possibilities ahead.

As Dr. Chen finished speaking, she offered them a moment alone. "Take all the time you need," she said softly, before stepping out of the room.

In the quiet that followed, Lewis enveloped Rorie in a tight embrace, Lyric nestled between them. Rorie clung to him, still processing the news. As her initial shock began to subside, she looked down at Lyric, who was watching them with curious eyes. Tears began to fall freely down Rorie's cheeks, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

Lyric, sensing his mother's distress, reached out a tiny hand and placed it gently on Rorie's wet cheek. The innocent gesture of comfort broke something inside her.

"Oh, my sweet baby," Rorie whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She pulled Lyric closer, crying into his soft curls. Between sobs, Rorie turned to Lewis. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say, her words muffled and broken.

Lewis shook his head, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay, love. It's not your fault," he said softly, wrapping his arms around both Rorie and Lyric. "Remember what Dr. Chen said? These things happen, and we still have options." He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice steady and reassuring. "I love you, Rorie. We'll get through this together, I promise."

Rorie nodded, unable to speak through her tears but drawing comfort from Lewis's words and the warmth of her family's embrace. Lyric, not fully understanding but instinctively offering comfort, snuggled closer to his mother.

In that moment, surrounded by the love of her husband and son, Rorie felt a glimmer of hope through her grief. The path ahead was uncertain, but she wasn't walking it alone.

As they prepared to leave, Rorie found her voice again. "Maybe we should take some time to think about the IVF," she said quietly. "We have a lot going on right now."

Lewis nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Of course, love. We'll take it one day at a time."

The neon lights of Las Vegas blazed against the night sky, casting a surreal glow over the city as it prepared for its inaugural Grand Prix. Lewis stood on the balcony of his suite at the Wynn, taking in the spectacle below. The energy was electric, but Lewis felt oddly disconnected from it all.

His mind wandered to Rorie, back in Colorado with Lyric. She had been withdrawn since their visit to Dr. Chen, the false positive pregnancy test hitting her harder than either of them had anticipated. Lewis had encouraged her to sit this race weekend out, to focus on her mental health, but her absence left a palpable void.

The news had been tough on him too. He'd allowed himself to imagine their family growing, Lyric becoming a big brother. But as Dr. Chen had gently reminded them, they still had options. Two frozen embryos waited, a possibility for the future. Yet, Lewis knew the decision to try again had to be Rorie's.

Shaking off his melancholy, Lewis headed down to the lobby where his best friend, Miles, was waiting. The Vegas strip was awash with Formula 1 fever. Billboards flashed with images of drivers, including the debut of Lewis's own Fortnite skin. Rorie's Tommy Hilfiger campaign was also debuting this weekend, her face gracing billboards throughout the city.

Lewis had reluctantly attended the Almave pop-up earlier, putting on a brave face for the cameras despite his heavy heart. Now, he and Miles made their way to Delilah, the Art Deco-inspired supper club within the Wynn.

As they settled into their booth, Miles studied his friend's face. "How's Rorie doing?"

Lewis paused, his fingers tracing the rim of his water glass. "It's been tough," he admitted. "She's withdrawn, barely talking. I don't know how to reach her sometimes."

"And how are you holding up?" Miles pressed gently.

Lewis's composure cracked, tears welling in his eyes. "I'm trying to be strong for her, but man, it's hard. We wanted this so badly."

Miles reached across the table, squeezing Lewis's shoulder supportively as his friend wiped away tears.

As their meal progressed, Lewis opened up more about the pressures he was facing - the lawsuit, Rorie's father reaching out, and the potential move to Ferrari.

"He says he's going to be here this weekend, and wants to talk again," Lewis said, his voice tight with frustration. "I just… I don't know how to handle all of this."

Miles listened intently, offering words of support and gentle advice. "Have you thought about going back to therapy?" he suggested. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot, bro."

Lewis shook his head. "I can't right now. I need to be there for Rorie, for Lyric. They need me to be strong."

Miles leaned forward, his expression serious. "Lewis, listen to me. You can't pour from an empty cup. You need to take care of yourself too. Rorie would want that."

As they were leaving the restaurant, a familiar face caught Lewis's eye. Deja stood near the bar, her gaze locking onto him.

"Lewis," she called out, her voice carrying a mix of anger and hurt.

Lewis tensed, his bodyguards immediately alert. "Deja, I have nothing to say to you."

"Of course you don't," she scoffed. "But I have plenty to say. Like how you're letting Rorie play the victim when she's the one who stole you from me."

Lewis's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"New Orleans, 2017. All-Star weekend," Deja spat. "We met at the club, danced, kissed. You promised me we'd be together! You said I was special!"

Lewis shook his head, genuinely perplexed. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember. I was partying a lot back then. If we did hook up, I apologize, but it was just that - a hookup."

Deja's face contorted with rage. "Just a hookup? You know what, Lewis? I'm glad I met with The Sun's PI. The truth is finally coming out, and I couldn't be happier. You think you can just use people and forget about them?"

"Deja, I—" Lewis started, but she cut him off.

"No, you listen! You ruined my life, and now I'm going to return the favor. You and that bitch Rorie deserve each other! I'm going to make your life miserable!"

Lewis's bodyguards stepped in, creating a barrier between them as the situation escalated. "We need to go, sir," one of them urged.

As they hustled Lewis and Miles out of the restaurant, Deja's angry shouts echoed behind them. "You're a liar, Lewis Hamilton! This is just the beginning!"

In the elevator, Lewis leaned against the wall, his jaw clenched. "I can't believe this," he muttered, then slammed his fist against the elevator wall. "Damn it!"

Miles watched his friend, concern etched on his face. "Talk to me, bro. What's going through your head?"

Lewis ran a hand over his face, frustration evident in every movement. "I'm trying to make sense of it all. All-Star weekend 2017... that was a year before I even met Rorie. Why is Deja so hung up on this?" He paced the small space of the elevator. "I mean, I partied a lot back then, sure. But promising someone we'd be together? That doesn't sound like me, even at my wildest. I'm trying to remember that weekend, but it's all a blur."

Miles shrugged his shoulders. "The bitch is crazy, bro. Don't try to rationalize delusion."

Lewis shook his head, still trying to piece together fragments of memories. "But what if there's some truth to it? What if I did something I don't remember?"

"Look," Miles said firmly, placing both hands on Lewis's shoulders to stop his pacing. "Even if something did happen - which I doubt - it was years ago. You weren't with Rorie then. You didn't do anything wrong."

The elevator dinged as they reached their floor. As the doors opened, Lewis took a deep breath, his mind still racing. "You're right. I just... I hate that this is happening now, with everything else going on."

Miles nodded sympathetically. "I know, man. But we'll figure this out. One step at a time, remember?"

"One step at a time."

As they stepped out into the hallway, Lewis felt a mix of emotions - anger at Deja's accusations, confusion about the past, and a deep longing for Rorie and the simplicity of being with his family.

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

This was not his weekend. At all.

Lewis stared at his phone, scrolling through the TMZ article that had somehow materialized overnight. The drama with Deja at Delilah had made its way to the gossip mill, complete with blurry photos and sensationalized headlines.

His dad had left several texts and voicemails, rightfully upset about what had happened. Lewis sighed, knowing he'd have to deal with that conversation soon. But for now, he was grateful that there were no messages from Rorie. The last thing she needed was this added stress.

His Twitter notifications were exploding, a mix of support and criticism flooding his mentions:

@F1Fan2023: "Lewis, stay strong! We know the truth is on your side. #TeamLH" @GossipQueen88: "First the lawsuit, now this? What's really going on with Lewis Hamilton? 👀" @RacingEnthusiast: "Focus on the track, Lewis. Let your driving do the talking. #LasVegasGP"

As he made his way to the paddock, Lewis tried to push the social media noise out of his mind. He had a race to focus on, after all. The Las Vegas strip was alive with fans crowding the streets and celebrities flocking to the various events.

Just as Lewis thought he might be able to lose himself in the pre-race routines, he spotted a familiar figure approaching. Martin, Rorie's father, was making his way through the paddock.

"This motherfucker," Lewis muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the encounter.

"Lewis," Martin called out, his voice tentative but determined. "I need to talk to you about Rorie. She's not answering my calls again."

Lewis exhaled heavily. "Martin, now is really not a good time."

"I know about the lawsuit," Martin pressed on. "I want to help. I have resources—"

"It's not just that," Lewis cut him off, then paused. He shouldn't be saying this, but the words tumbled out anyway. "We've been trying to have another baby. We just got some tough news from our OB/GYN. Rorie's… she's struggling right now."

Martin's face fell. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Lewis said, turning away.

"Lewis, wait," Martin called after him. "I know I've gone about this all wrong, but I genuinely want a relationship with Rorie and my grandson. Her half-siblings, they want to know her too."

Lewis paused, conflicting emotions battling within him. He understood the desire for family, but his priority was protecting Rorie and Lyric.

"Look, Martin," he said finally, turning back. "I hear you. But this has to be Rorie's decision. And right now, she needs space. Can you respect that?"

Martin nodded slowly, a mix of disappointment and understanding on his face. "I can. Just… tell her I'm here when she's ready?"

Lewis gave a curt nod before walking away, his mind already racing ahead to the challenges of the day. As he reached for his balaclava, his phone buzzed with a text from Julian in all caps:

CALL ME NOW.

Moving to the back of the garage for privacy, Lewis dialed Julian's number.

"Julian, what's going on?"

"Lewis, we've identified the inside source giving Deja information," Julian said, his voice tense. "It's Luisa."

"What the fuck, man?" Lewis exploded, lowering his voice as he glanced around. "This fucking weekend is cursed."

Shit, maybe I need to douse myself in holy water.

"It'll be okay, Lewis." Julian tried to calm him down. "I'm preparing to file a motion to have her arrested—"

"No, don't do that," Lewis cut in. "Luisa has two kids. We can't…"

"What do you want me to do then?" Julian asked, frustration evident in his voice. "This is serious, Lewis. She invaded your privacy."

Lewis took a deep breath. "I'll handle it after the race. For now, just… keep this under wraps, okay?"

As he ended the call, Lewis felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. Between the race, the media circus, and the family drama, this Vegas weekend was turning out to be more complicated than he could have ever imagined.

Lewis took a deep breath, trying to center himself amidst the chaos swirling around him. The garage buzzed with pre-race activity, mechanics fine-tuning the car, team members hurrying back and forth with last-minute adjustments.

He pulled on his balaclava, the familiar routine offering a small comfort. As he reached for his helmet, Toto approached, concern etched on his face.

"Lewis, are you alright?" Toto asked, his voice low. "I've heard about the... incident last night."

Lewis nodded, grateful for Toto's discretion. "I'm managing. Just focused on the race now."

Toto placed a supportive hand on Lewis's shoulder. "Remember, we're here for you. Whatever you need."

As Lewis made his way to the car, he caught sight of Fred Vasseur in the paddock. Their eyes met briefly, and Fred gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. The potential move to Ferrari suddenly felt like it belonged to a different lifetime.

Settling into the cockpit, Lewis allowed himself a moment of calm. The familiar smell of rubber and fuel, the snug fit of the seat – it all helped to ground him. Here, in this space, he was just a driver. No drama, no complications. Just him and the track.

The radio crackled to life. "Lewis, how are you feeling? Car okay?"

Bono's voice made the corners of Lewis' lips quirk into a small smile. Although the car was still shit, at least it was somewhat better than the current reality of his life.

"All good," Lewis responded, his voice steady. "Let's do this."

"Alright, mate, whenever you're ready."

He pulled out of the garage for the formation lap, revving his engine as his mind began to clear. The neon lights of Vegas, the drama with Deja, the situation with Luisa, even the heartache over the false pregnancy – it all faded into the background.

For now, there was only the race. The grip of the tires on asphalt and the thrill of pushing machine and man to their limits. As the lights went out and Lewis launched off the line, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline.

Let's fucking go.

The crisp November air of Colorado bit at Rorie's cheeks as she stood on the balcony of their secluded home. The Rockies stretched out before her, their peaks already blanketed in snow, the evergreens dotting the landscape providing the only splashes of color against the white and gray backdrop. It was a view that usually brought her peace, but today, it felt more like a beautiful, wintry prison.

Lyric's laughter drifted from inside, where he was playing with Aaliyah. Rorie pulled her thick cardigan tighter around herself, grateful for her sister's presence; it provided a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

She glanced at her phone, notifications muted but the screen still lighting up periodically with incoming messages. The early sunset of late autumn had already painted the sky in deep purples and oranges. She knew she should check her messages, knew that Lewis was probably worried, but she couldn't bring herself to face the outside world just yet.

The news from Dr. Chen still felt raw, a constant ache in her chest. Each time she saw Lyric, bundled up in his winter clothes, a bittersweet mix of love and longing washed over her. He was growing so fast, and the thought that he might remain their only child brought a fresh wave of pain.

Rorie's eyes drifted to the mountain horizon again, where the first stars were beginning to appear in the clear, cold sky. She'd come here to find peace, to escape the pressure and drama that had been building back in L.A. But even here, in this beautiful winter sanctuary, she couldn't outrun her own thoughts.

Throughout the day, Rorie thought about her husband and his race in Vegas. When the final results came in, she felt a mix of emotions - pride in Lewis's efforts, but also disappointment at his P7 finish. Part of her felt guilty for not being there to support him, but another part was relieved to be away from the spotlight. The lawsuit, her biological father's attempts to reconnect, the constant scrutiny – it all felt overwhelming.

"Rorie?" Aaliyah's voice called from inside. "Lyric's asking for you. And it's getting cold out there!"

Taking a deep breath of the pine-scented air, Rorie turned from the view and headed back inside to the warmth of the house. As she scooped up her son, feeling his warmth through his soft sweater, she felt a small spark of hope ignite within her. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she had this – the love of her family, the strength she knew resided within her.

"Mama," Lyric babbled, patting her cheek.

"I'm here, baby," Rorie murmured, holding him close. "Mama's here."

She settled on the couch with Lyric, and Aaliyah joined them, draping a warm throw over their laps. Rorie allowed herself this moment of peace, surrounded by the love of her family and the quiet strength of the snow-covered mountains.

Rorie heard the soft murmur of voices from the kitchen. Her mother, Marian, and stepfather Greg were preparing dinner, the comforting aroma of homemade stew filling the air.

"How're you holding up, sweetie?" Aaliyah asked, settling beside them and tucking the throw around their legs.

Rorie sighed, bouncing Lyric gently on her knee. "I'm... managing. It's just a lot, you know?"

Aaliyah nodded sympathetically. "I can't even imagine. But we're all here for you, Ror. You know that, right?"

Before Rorie could respond, Marian entered the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Dinner's almost ready, girls. Rorie, honey, have you checked on Lewis?"

Rorie shook her head, a twinge of guilt passing through her. "Not yet, Mom. I just... I needed some time."

Marian sat down on the armchair across from them, her eyes filled with concern. "I understand, baby. But remember, you two are a team. Don't shut him out."

Greg appeared in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. "Your mother's right, Rorie. And speaking of shutting people out, there were at least a dozen paparazzi camped outside our house this morning. Mrs. Weatherly said it's still a circus back there."

As much as she was nosy, Mrs. Weatherly, her parents' elderly neighbor, was still a good person and kept them updated about everything.

Rorie groaned, burying her face in Lyric's braids. "I'm so sorry you guys got dragged into this mess."

"Hey, none of that," Greg said firmly, moving to sit on the arm of Marian's chair. "We're family. Your battles are our battles."

"That's right," Marian added. "And we'll face them together, just like we always have."

Lyric, sensing the tension in the room, began to fuss. Rorie stood up, bouncing him gently. "Shh, it's okay, baby. Mama's got you."

As she paced the room, soothing Lyric, Aaliyah spoke up. "Have you thought about what you're going to do about... everything? The lawsuit, Martin trying to make contact..."

Rorie paused by the window, looking out at the snow-covered landscape. "Honestly? I don't know. It all feels so overwhelming sometimes."

"One step at a time, honey," Marian said softly. "You don't have to figure it all out at once."

Greg nodded in agreement. "And whatever you decide, we've got your back. All of us."

Rorie felt a lump form in her throat, touched by the unwavering support of her family. "Thanks, you guys. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Just then, the timer in the kitchen went off. "That'll be the cornbread," Greg said, standing up. "I'll go grab it."

As he left the room, Marian turned to Rorie. "Why don't you go freshen up before dinner? I'll take Lyric."

Rorie hesitated for a moment before handing Lyric over to her mother. As she headed upstairs, she paused at the landing, looking back at her family gathered in the living room. Despite everything, she felt a surge of gratitude.

In her room, Rorie finally picked up her phone. Several missed calls and messages from Lewis, all expressing love and concern. Taking a deep breath, she typed out a message:

I'm okay. We're okay. Call you later. Love you.

As she hit send, Rorie felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. Rorie descended the stairs, and the rich aroma of Greg's famous cornbread filled the air, mingling with the hearty scent of the stew. The sound of Lyric's giggles echoed from the kitchen, bringing a small smile to her face.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Marian was at the stove, stirring the stew with one hand while balancing Lyric on her hip. Greg was carefully cutting the cornbread, while Aaliyah placed items in the dishwasher.

"There you are," Marian said, noticing Rorie. "Feel better?"

Rorie nodded, moving to take Lyric from her mother. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mom."

As they settled in the living room with bowls of steaming stew and plates of Greg's famous cornbread, Greg turned on the TV. The Broncos vs Vikings game was just starting.

"So, Aaliyah," Greg said between bites, "how's that new project at work going?"

As Aaliyah launched into a story about her latest architectural design, Rorie felt herself relaxing. The normalcy of family dinner and football was exactly what she needed.

Greg, ever the Eagles fan, watched the game intently despite neither team being his favorite. "You know," he said during a commercial break, "I'll watch any football game, but it's a bit more interesting now that Lewis is one of the Broncos' owners. Speaking of which, Rorie, does Lewis have any plans for trades? I've got some ideas..."

Rorie couldn't help but laugh, the first genuine chuckle she'd had in days. "Dad, you know Lewis doesn't really deal with trades and that kind of thing, right? But I'll be sure to pass along your suggestions."

Marian rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Greg, leave the poor man alone. I'm sure he's got enough on his plate without your armchair quarterback advice."

As they continued to eat and watch the game, Rorie felt a sense of normalcy wash over her. The warmth of the stew, the comfort of her family, and the familiar sounds of football commentary created a cocoon of safety, if only for a moment.

After dinner and the game, Rorie excused herself to put Lyric to bed. She carried him upstairs, and she could feel the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. In the nursery, she gently changed Lyric into his pajamas, humming softly as she did so.

"Time for sleep, my little love," she whispered, placing him in his crib. Lyric gazed up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, his tiny hand reaching out to grasp her finger.

As she tucked him in, she whispered, "Daddy did his best today, baby. We're always proud of him, aren't we?" Lyric mumbled something unintelligible in response, already drifting off to sleep. Rorie stood there for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, finding a moment of peace in the simple act of motherhood.

With Lyric settled, Rorie retreated to her room, closing the door softly behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone for a long moment before finally dialing Lewis's number. Her heart raced as it rang once, twice...

He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, babe," his voice was tired but warm, instantly soothing her frayed nerves.

"Hi," Rorie said softly, curling up against the headboard. "Tough race today, huh?"

Lewis sighed, and she could almost see him running a hand over his face as he often did when frustrated. "Yeah, not our best. The car just didn't have the pace we needed. Felt like I was fighting it the whole time."

"You did your best, though. That's what matters," Rorie assured him.

"Thanks, love. But that's not even the half of it. Rorie, I need to tell you something, and it's... well, it's not good."

Rorie felt her stomach tighten. "What is it?"

He proceeded to recount his encounter with Deja at Delilah, describing the heated exchange and her claims about their supposed history. Rorie listened, her free hand clenching the bedsheet as Lewis spoke.

"She was yelling about how we met in New Orleans during All-Star weekend in 2017, saying I promised her things. I swear, Rorie, I don't remember any of it. If something did happen, it was just a hookup, nothing more."

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to process this information. "I believe you, Lewis. But why is she doing this now? After all this time?"

"I don't know," Lewis admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "She seems convinced that you 'stole' me from her or something. It's crazy, Rorie. We hadn't even met in 2017."

Rorie's mind raced. "Do you think she's just looking for attention? Or is there more to it?"

"I wish I knew. But there's more, and this... this is going to be hard to hear."

Rorie braced herself. "What is it?"

"Julian called me today. He found out who's been leaking information to Deja."

"Who?" Rorie asked, dreading the answer.

"It's Luisa," Lewis said, his voice heavy.

Rorie gasped, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. "Our housekeeper? But why would she— How could she—"

"I don't know," Lewis cut in, his own voice tight with emotion. "I told Julian not to do anything drastic. We'll figure it out when I get back. I just can't believe someone we trusted would do this to us."

Rorie felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I trusted her with Lyric, Lewis. She's been in our home, with our son... Oh God, what if she—"

"Hey, hey," Lewis soothed, "Lyric is safe. He's there with you and your family. We'll sort this out, I promise. We'll make sure he stays safe."

Rorie nodded, even though Lewis couldn't see her, wiping away a stray tear. "You're right. He's safe. We're safe."

There was a pause before Lewis continued, "Oh, and there's one more thing. My parents are planning to come to Colorado. They want to be there for us, with everything that's going on."

Rorie felt a wave of emotion wash over her. "That's... that's really sweet of them. When are they coming?"

"They're trying to get flights for tomorrow. Is that okay? I know it's a lot with everything else..."

"No, it's perfect," Rorie said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. "I think having them here will help. Your mom always knows how to make things better."

Lewis chuckled softly. "That she does. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie smiled, glancing at the baby monitor. "He's good. Missing his daddy, but good. He loved watching you race today. Kept pointing at the TV and saying 'Dada fast!'"

"I miss him too. Both of you. God, Rorie, I wish I was there with you right now."

"I know. Me too. But you'll be home soon, right?"

"Late tomorrow, I promise. Look, I know it's a lot to process. But we'll get through this together, okay? We always do. I love you, Rorie. You and Lyric are everything to me."

"We love you too," Rorie said, her voice thick with emotion. "Come home soon. We need you here."

"I will. Try to get some rest, okay? And Rorie?"

"Yeah?"

"We've got this. Together."

As they said their goodbyes, Rorie felt a mix of anxiety and determination. She lay back on the bed, her mind racing with everything Lewis had told her, but also feeling a glimmer of hope. Whatever came next, they would face it as a family. Rorie closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she allowed herself to find comfort in the love of her husband and the peace of knowing their son slept safely nearby.

KiKi sat in her car, parked a few blocks away from the trendy café where Deja was holding court with a group of her friends. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel as she watched Deja through the tinted windows. It was supposed to be a casual surveillance, but the longer KiKi sat there, the more her frustration simmered.

Deja had been a thorn in Rorie’s side for too long, and KiKi had been watching her closely, waiting for the right moment to strike. She’d seen Deja run her mouth to anyone who would listen, stirring up more drama, and generally making Rorie’s life hell. KiKi’s loyalty to Rorie ran deep, and the thought of Deja continuing to cause problems made her blood boil.

When Rorie had told her not to beat Deja’s ass, KiKi had nodded, promising to stay cool. But Rorie hadn’t said anything about not finding someone else to do it, and KiKi had taken that as a green light. Enter her cousin’s boyfriend’s sister, Nyla. Nyla was a wild card, known for handling business in a way that left no room for misunderstandings. KiKi had mentioned Deja’s antics to her in passing, and Nyla had practically volunteered for the job on the spot.

As KiKi sat there, her phone buzzed with a new message. She glanced down at the screen and saw it was from Nyla, who was already on the move:

On my way. Got the address. Bitch won’t know what hit her.

KiKi smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Nyla wasn’t one to play around, and KiKi trusted her to send a clear message. Deja had been playing with fire, and it was time she got burned.

KiKi’s gaze shifted back to Deja, who was laughing loudly, oblivious to the storm heading her way. The woman sitting next to KiKi in the passenger seat, a friend of Nyla’s named Tasha, shifted slightly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses as she leaned back against the seat. Tasha was cool and composed, her sharp eyes hidden behind the dark lenses. Her long braids were neatly pulled back, and she wore a leather jacket that matched her tough, no-nonsense demeanor. Tasha didn’t say much, but when she did, her words carried weight.

"She doesn’t look like much," Tasha remarked, her voice low and steady. "You sure this is the right one?"

KiKi glanced at Tasha, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Yeah, that’s her. Don’t let the cute face fool you—she’s a snake."

Tasha nodded slowly, taking another look at Deja. "Good thing Nyla doesn’t care what she looks like. She’ll get the job done."

"Damn right," KiKi muttered, her eyes narrowing as Deja tossed her hair and flashed a bright smile at something one of her friends said. "Rorie’s been through enough, and I’m sick of this bitch thinking she can just do whatever she wants."

Tasha didn’t respond, but KiKi could feel her quiet agreement. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that they were about to put an end to Deja’s antics, or at least slow her down. Rorie deserved peace, and if it took a little roughing up to get it, so be it.

KiKi’s phone buzzed again, this time with a simple message:

In position. Ready when you are.

KiKi grinned, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She fired off a quick reply:

Wait for her to leave. Don’t make a scene.

"Time to move," KiKi said, sliding her phone back into her pocket and starting the car. "Nyla’s got this."

Tasha nodded, her expression unreadable behind the sunglasses. As they drove away, leaving Deja to her fate, KiKi felt a sense of grim satisfaction. She hadn’t laid a finger on Deja, just as Rorie had asked, but she’d made sure the message would be delivered loud and clear.

KiKi’s car rolled smoothly out of the parking spot as she and Tasha headed away from the café. The sense of satisfaction in her chest grew with each passing second. Deja had no idea what was coming, and that was exactly how KiKi wanted it. But as much as she enjoyed the thought of Deja getting what she deserved, there was still work to be done. Loose ends needed to be tied up, and KiKi wasn’t about to let anything trace back to her or, more importantly, Rorie.

She drove to a more secluded area on the outskirts of the city, where Nyla had said she’d meet her after handling business. The rain had picked up again, the rhythmic drumming on the car roof only adding to the tension in the air. After about fifteen minutes, KiKi pulled into an abandoned lot, the dim streetlights casting long shadows over the wet asphalt. Nyla’s car was already there, parked under a flickering light. KiKi parked next to her, and she and Tasha stepped out, the cool night air biting at their skin.

Nyla was leaning against her car, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Her expression was calm, almost bored, as if she’d just finished running an errand instead of beating someone up in a parking lot, but there was a hard edge in her eyes that KiKi didn’t miss.

"Is it done?" KiKi asked as she approached, her voice low.

Nyla pushed off the car and nodded. "Yeah. the bitch didn’t even see it coming. Got her right as she was about to get into her car. Didn’t take much—she folded quick."

KiKi’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Good. And no one saw you?"

Nyla shrugged. "Even if they did, they won’t talk. But nah, it was clean. Just me, her, and the rain. She’s probably still trying to figure out what hit her."

Tasha chuckled quietly, pulling off her sunglasses now that they were out of the public eye. "Serves her right. Think she’ll back off?"

"She better," KiKi muttered, glancing at Nyla. "But just in case, we need to make sure this doesn’t trace back to us. No loose ends."

Nyla gave a small, dismissive wave. "Don’t worry about that. I made sure she didn’t know who I was. And if she tries to go to the cops, it’ll just look like she got into some random altercation. Ain’t nobody gonna believe her."

KiKi nodded, but her mind was already working through the possibilities, the what-ifs. She wasn’t one to leave anything to chance. "We’ll need to lay low for a bit, just to be safe. If anyone asks, we were nowhere near that café today."

Nyla smirked. "You’re paranoid, but I get it. Don’t worry. I’ve got an alibi, and I’m sure you two do too. We’re good."

KiKi sighed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Nyla was right—they were careful, and Deja was too rattled to put the pieces together, especially with the warning Nyla had delivered. Still, KiKi wasn’t one to let her guard down easily.

"Alright," KiKi said, glancing between Nyla and Tasha. "We’ll stick to the plan. If anything comes up, we handle it, but for now, we wait and see how she reacts."

Nyla nodded, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. "Cool. You know how to reach me if you need anything else. But trust me, she’s not gonna be a problem anymore."

KiKi offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Nyla. I owe you one."

Nyla shrugged, already heading back to her car with Tasha in tow. "Just doing what needed to be done. Catch you later."

KiKi got back into her car. The drive back to her hotel was silent, the satisfaction of the evening’s events mingling with the ever-present undercurrent of caution. KiKi knew they’d sent a message, but she also knew the game wasn’t over. Deja might be down, but she wasn’t out—and KiKi would be ready if she ever tried to come back for more.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #lewis hamilton x black reader #f1 x reader #private landing

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bangchansgirlsblog · 10 months

Note

another random idea.. Fem 9th member maknae reader who secretly smokes and gets caught by one of the boys who later snitches and tells chan. Reader and Chan fall out and she storms out of the dorms and ends up staying in her apartment instead to let off some steam. She realised how bad the smoking was for her health and how much it impacted her social life so she first to JYP and they send her to rehab + puts her on hiatus for two months because of rehab. Chan thinks it’s his fault for the hiatus as none of the members were told that she was going to rehab. They later find out and when Reader returns back from rehab/hiatus they all tell her how proud they are of her?

(sorry for the LONGGGG paragraph, i didn’t intend for it to be this long🧍‍♀️)

My biggest problem.

Okay maybe I got carried away a little and changed it a little but yeah forgive me 😜

Enjoy

-🩷

Y/n started smoking when she was 15.

She didn't know that she was eventually going to be a trainee the year after.

It was never part of her plan but when they scouted her when she was at the mall with her mum, it was a new chapter in her story and her mum begged for her to try it out. As her training days began and she tried to quit she found that she couldn’t go a day without smoking.

She was already addicted to it.

Her habit became stronger and stronger as the days got harder.

6 hours dance practice, 4 hours vocal and 2 hours media training. She found her self sneaking out for smokes during short breaks or before leaving the dorms for any type of schedule.

It sucked that she couldn't get out of it and it was affecting her.

At this point she didn’t even want to stop because if she did her body would fail.

1:45 pm, New York City.

"Alright people let's get started shall we?" The instructor walked onto the stage and stood at the edge waiting for everyone to get in place.

Y/n put her water bottle down and walked over to the group to get into her place so they could start practicing for the show that would happen the next day.

"Y/n and I.N I want more energy from the both of you please," Chan told the two maknae's. He was stood in the back analyzing everything to make sure it was on point.

The two nodded and stood ready to start. The sound of Charmer filled the whole stadium and their bodies started to move with the music. Their vocals being on point and their dancing being better than the last.

"What do you think?" The manager asked Chan. He was now stood down off stage looking at a different point of you. The rest of the band gasping for air.

"It was okay, I liked it but the lighting crew need to do better because I can barely see Felix in the back." He pointed and waved as he spoke. Trying to show the manager what he was imagining.

Y/n saw this as an opportunity to slip away for a bit for a short smoke break. She needed it. Her hands were shaking and her body couldn't really function due to the fuck she was going through withdrawals.

"Chan, may I use the washroom?" Her voice was timid but Chan was used to it and was able to hear her over his earpeaces.

"Yeah you can, five minutes yeah?" He replied. "Do you need one of the boys to come with you-"

"No no no it's fine," she replied fast, way to fast for Chan's liking.

"Okay," he squinted his eyes in suspicion but let it go.

She grabbed her bag and made her way through the different hallway. Making sure no one was in sight, she slipped through the backdoor to the back way alley.

It was quiet. No one was there and she was glad. She let go of the sign that lingered in her chest and pulled out the pack of cigs that laid neatly in her small pouch.

Her hands shook as she grabbed one cigarette and put it between her lips where she lit it and took a big puff.

Her body relaxed as the smoke filled her lungs. Her brain that was going hellfire was now calm and relaxed as well.

She thought she was safe when she reached for the second one. None of the boys had called her phone and it had been about 5 minutes.

"Just one more," she thought to herself.

"Y/n?" a voice called right by her ear causing her to jump and drop the pack of cigs.

"What are you doing?" She turned to look at Hyunjin who was visibly angry.

His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were sealed tightly together.

"Hyunjin what are you doing here?" She asked as she got on her knees trying to collect the cigarettes that were now scattered all over.

"What do you mean what are you doing here? What are YOU doing here Y/n? And why are you smoking? Have you gone mad? Does Chan know about this?" He questioned standing there in shock.

"No,no Chan doesn't know about this and you're not telling him," Y/n hushed him trying to stop him from shouting and yelling.

"I think you've actually gone insane! Ofcourse I'm telling Chan,” he grabbed the cigarettes from Y/n's hand and threw them back to the ground where he stomped all over them.

"Inside. Now." He said through gritted teeth. Y/n was scared, it was visible. She grabbed her back and slowly made her way inside the venue. Her lips quivered.

"Hyunjin please don't tell Chan, please I'll do anything," she begged.

"I have to Y/n. I'm so disappointed in you. We trusted you and you do this?" His eyes couldn't meet hers. His body was tense as they walked backstage to the rooms in the back. The hallways gettin busier each second. The employees questioning why she was crying.

"Are you okay-"

"Yes she is please go along with your work," Hyunjin snapped at one of the ladies. Y/n looked up at him frightened because he was always nice to people, he never once raised his voice at an employee.

When they arrived in the room. The boys were sat on the couches or having lunch. Chan was texting on his phone when he looked up.

"Y/n? Why did you bathroom break take so long?" He laughed and looked at Hyunjin who wasn't smiling.

"I caught her smoking Chan, she reeks of cigarettes" her head fell and she looked at her new trainers that one of the companies had sent her for promotion. It looked so intriguing all of a sudden.

"You caught her what? Hyunjin your joking," Chan laughed, "please tell me your joking," he paused and looked at the serious Hyunjin.

"Tell him, tell him now." He slightly pushed her in front of him so they could be face to face.

"I-I can explain Chan,"

"No way Y/n please tell me you're joking," his voice became harsh. The boys all turned to Y/n. They were all shocked at this because she was the last person to ever do such a thing.

"What the fuck?" Changbin's voice sounded. "You've been smoking?"

"Only a little," her voice was small. Timid almost.

"Don't lie, please don't fucking lie right now Y/n." Chan says walking closer to the younger.

"Sit down, now." Leeknow says standing up and dropping his chopsticks.

"Your only 19, I get your all 'grown' BUT your still so young. You're an idol. An idol!" Chan's hand smashes against the table making her jump in her sit.

"Okay then if you think I'm an adult I should be able to smoke or drink or-"

"Are you out of your mind momo?" He snapped back at her, "Do you know what it does to you?"

"But Chan-"

"Quit Or I'll make you quit," was all Chan said before he stormed out the room leaving her with the boys who looked very disappointed.

"I get it, you don't have to look at me like I'm some monster," she wiped her tears with her sleeve to clean the tears that run down her cheeks.

"I just don't have words for you right now, your irresponsible, selfish and careless," Leeknow's words were harsh. So harsh that even Hyunjin cringed and felt bad.

"Then kick me out the band if it's such a big deal," was all she said before she got up and run out the room down the hallway past Chan who was standing by the doors while a manger tried to calm him down and out the stadium. It was cold and she had left all her stuff inside so she was forced to run down the busy streets of New York, freezing.

Chan following after her trying to figure out what was going on.

Her body was shaking from all the tears she cried.

But she continued to run.

She was able to disappear from Chan’s sight. Now Chan was really angry and worried. He'd lost his youngest in the busy streets of New York. She was new to the city and she was an idol. Anything could go wrong. Anything could go extremely wrong.

His heart was beating out of his chest. He grabbed his phone out of his picked rushing to call his manager then leeknow and the boys.

He found himself back in the changing rooms surrounded by everyone. Trying to calm him down.

"I'll go back to the hotel just in case she's back there," Felix assured Chan while he packed up his stuff.

"I'll come with you Lix," Hyunjin grabbed his bag aswell making sure to grab her stuff from the ground. He opened to make sure all her stuff was inside but the site wasn't pretty at all.

Underneath everything he saw 4 more packs of cigarettes causing him to gasp horrendously.

"What? What is it?" Bangchan's neck snapped to his direction. Hyunjin had no words so he just passed the bag to Chan who was now terrified.

"Is she addicted?" Was all he asked before handing the bag to leeknow who was curious aswell.

Chan's hands run through his hair as he was thinking of all the possible ways he could find her in the whole of New York City. He felt guilt. He felt like if he had maybe approached this in a nicer way they could have worked through it but now his anger was just blinding him.

"Okay, police were informed and we're about to go driving around to see if we can somehow spot her," their manager tells them (he was also panicking low key but he didn’t want them knowing) , "do you guys want to join?"

"I'll come with you," Leeknow says quickly.

His hands were shaking and he felt so much guilt aswell. If anything happened to Y/n it would be all his fault and he wouldn't forgive himself.

"Same Hyung," Han jumps in.

They all grabbed their bags and the three (Han, Leeknow and Chan) quickly rushed out right behind their manager.

The rest of the boys cleaned up and quickly left to go to the hotel hoping to find her there safe and sound.

It took 5 hours. 5 hours before Felix had decided to go to the cafe by the hotel to grab drinks for everyone and he had found her sat in a coffee shop, she was shivering and cold but Felix didn’t care because he was angry and Felix was never angry. Without hesitation, Felix dragged her out and back to the hotel even if she was kicking and screaming. He didn’t care. At all. He ignored her pleas and cries.

The lecture she got from Chan and all of them was hot and mean and ruthless but at the end of the day they gave her a choice to either quit or go to rehab but she chose to quit. She “promised” them.

After an hour of grilling her for answers she finally had admitted to everything that was going on and how she felt and how she was battling her own self.

Chan was beating himself up for not noticing and Leeknow was beating himself up for not being there for her.

She was so vulnerable. They all knew her secrets and her problems. She felt like a show everyone was just watching and waiting to break.

6:20, Japan

The first time the boys had noticed her odd behavior was starting up again, was when they had a sign meet and a concert right after. She hadn’t been able to go for a smoke in hours, her body was now trembling and she was sweating a lot. She could barely get through anything and nausea started to grow string in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey, you okay? You kinda look pale love,” Han was sat next to her getting his makeup done and so was she. He had notice she was fidgeting a lot in the chair. Her eyes were red too.

“Yeah just really tired,” she lied and gulped down thick saliva trying to get rid of the nausea but it completely failed.

“I think I’m going to be sick-“ she got up from the chair and run through the corridors to find the bathroom and once she did she through up, but it was good it was just mucus. Her head was thumping and her throat ached.

A hurried knock made her stand up and flush before she opened the door and collapsed in Han’s hands. He was worried for his younger and now he had to curry her to the rooms.

“Hey, stay with me okay? Don’t close your eyes,” he softly said while he blew air into her face to keep her cool.

When he had walked in and found leeknow sat on their changing room couch he let out a sigh of relief.

“Leeknow help me please! It’s Y/n,” he said panicked. Without hesitation leeknow stood up quickly and took her from Hans hands and put her on the couch to lay down.

Han had run down the corridor to get medics as leeknow woke her up from her faint state.

“Momo? Can you hear me? It’s leeknow,” a soft groan left her lips.

“Would you like some water?” She nodded her head and leeknow was on it. He got on one knee and started to feed her small sips of water.

“Tell me what hurts,” he softly said and played with her hair to calm her down.

“Everything,” she softly said and it aches Leeknow’s hurt.

Y/n knew the only way for her to get out of this state was to smoke but how?

“Leeknow, I- I need to use the bathroom,” she groaned and held her hand against her head.

“If you need to puke i’ll get you a bucket love,” he assured her. He didn’t want her waking and being left alone right now. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I need to pee,”

“Okay can you wait until the medics are here?” And right on cue the door opens and a frantic Han walks into the room with a few people behind him. Then Chan and Hyunjin walked in right behind.

“What happened Y/n?” Chan asked straight away and knelt beside her while he rubbed her hands.

“I don’t know Oppa, I was just not feeling the best,”

“You should have told me my love,” he softly said as he watched the medical team examine her.

“I thought it wasn’t this bad,”

“Now you see what it has done,” Hyunjin joint the conversation. “Look how tired you look, have you eaten anything all day?” He asked her.

“I had the lunch Changbin braught me,”

“So if we called Changbin right now he would agree?” Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Disappointed.

“No-“

“How bad is it?” Chan asked the man in uniform.

“Not bad, she’s just really dehydrated. We’ll fix an IV on her arm and she’ll be good to go, also may I speak to you outside in the corridor,” Leeknow looks at Chan worried and they exchanged the same expression before Chan head out with the guy.

“I need to pee really bad,” Y/n whines and complains.

“Okay you can go, I’ll come with you,” the lady medic says and slowly guides her to the bathroom. Y/n grabs her lighter and cig and started to smoke it. The feelings make her body slowly awaken and then gain energy. She smoked one more just incase and then washed her hands and made her way back to the last medic.

She was able to walk on her own but just to make it not look suspicious she held onto her and then finally she sat on the couch and got the iv in her arm.

Chan was back in the room and he was examining her. Trying to look for something and once it caught his eye he looked over at the rest of the boys nodding and they all just stare at eachother.

They knew. They knew she was smoking again and it hurt Chan for what was about to come was not going to be pretty.

10:55, south Korea

The paparazzi lights started to increase when She stood up in the podium. Her eyes were red and she had eyebags from the lack of sleep she was getting.

Her hands shook as she grabbed the microphone. The boys stood right behind her. Their head looking at the ground trying to avoid her shaking body.

"Goodmorning, my name is Y/n Y/l/n and I'm a member of strays kids. I didn't want this to happen. Trust me I didn't,"

She took a deep breath looking at the manager that were sat in the front raw. Judging her and giving her a disgusted look.

A sob Left her mouth and she put the microphone down. Trying to get herself together before she spoke again.

"To all the stays out there, I want to say I love you and I hope you guys can forgive me for this. I will be going on haitus for a while," the room is filled with gasps as the flashlights now increase even more.

"I pray that if I do come back I will be better and stronger for you guys and that I will make my group and team proud. Thank you for loving me and i hope to see you guys soon," she bowed before taking a step back and wiping her tears.

The boys all stood around her to hide her body from the camera. Han rubbing her back and whispering something in her ear.

She didn't care though, she was upset. She was so upset with herself but she still managed to blame the boys. Her reasoning? Because she felt like they were giving her up and sending her away.

"Alright, are you all packed?" Their manager stood outside her room.

"Yeah" she softly said rolling her bag out and handing it to the older man.

"Alright the boys are down stairs if you want to say bye, I'll be waiting in the car," he nodded and left her to close her room and head down the steps to her band mates.

They all looked upset, there was no lie there. There were all stood by the door giving her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm going to miss you," Chan steps up and pulls her into a hug. She didn't want it though. She shrugged it off and stood there looking at him with teary eyes.

"Chan please don't do this,"

"You know I want was best for you-"

"But Chan I'll change I promise just give me a chance,"

His eyes were soft and filled with tears. Guilt was eating him up. He so badly wanted not to send her away but he didn't have a choice.

"I'm sorry," the sound of a honk interrupts them and she knew it was time for her to go.

“I hate you,” she sobbed. That was the last thing she said to him and without looking back she left the dorms. Hoping that somehow she would make it out alive.

Breaking news, strays kids maknae Y/N Y/N/L and group manager in have been left in critical condition after a fatal car crash. Was it a set up?

I’m not doing a part two🙈

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz drabbles #skz fluff #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids drabbles #stray kids as boyfriend material #straykids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #straykids

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florencemtrash · 1 year

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river.

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back.

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.”

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor.

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?”

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another.

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder.

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath.

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.”

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.”

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.”

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!”

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards.

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams.

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped.

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened.

“No… oh no.”

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour.

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone.

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis.

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-”

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!”

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.”

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side.

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.”

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.”

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask.

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension.

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web.

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?”

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience.

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?”

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly.

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return.

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.”

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client.

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down.

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss.

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly.

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls.

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh.

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you?

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.”

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space.

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.”

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great.

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!”

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground.

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background.

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization.

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps.

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes.

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company.

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.”

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him.

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by.

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity.

And in this one…

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe.

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.”

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?”

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.”

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel.

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.”

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up.

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head.

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?”

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities.

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.”

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.”

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.”

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face.

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.”

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.”

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.”

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches.

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.”

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.”

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point.

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?”

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.”

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face.

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.”

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.”

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.”

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.”

“That would be preferable.”

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.”

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address.

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.”

And it would be good for you to see her again.

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him.

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x wife reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavit #peter parker #peter b parker #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n

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austinbutlerslovers · 5 months

Note

You're my favourite Austin writer on here I think you're amazing!

Please can I ask you to write an Austin x fem reader smut based on False God by Taylor Swift? It's one of my favourite songs and i think its so Austin coded 😭

False God

Label Mature 18+

Summary

Based on the lyrics ‘False God’ by Talylor Swift

Established relationship girlfriend

💝Romantic Smut 💝

passionate foreplay • oral receiving fem•clit play•p in v • orgasms •cream pies

Special thank to the requester. This is the first time I’ve written this style it was very difficult thank you for your patience . 🙏🏻

Master List ••• Upcoming List

False God

Above the bustling streets of vibrant downtown town New York city, you sit in the window of the high rise penthouse apartment you share with Austin. He landed over an hour ago at JFK international and you were frequently checking your phone to see when he would be arriving home to you.

He used to fly you with him to public events but as he became more famous he thought it better you remain out of sight. As his pay increased with his movies he moved you from your shared one bedroom loft to a five bedroom penthouse downtown. When the shopping sprees, vacations and lavish dinners began, so did your insecurities.

You would stare over at him, your once shy timid boyfriend now engaging a table full of his famous costars. He was confident and brilliant, even more beautiful than before.

His charming smile, dazzling blue eyes and perfect features were only enhanced by his new jewelry, clothing, and stylish haircuts of his sandy brown hair.

You tried to stop yourself but you couldn’t help it, you became insecure as his girlfriend. The more he left town the more you checked his name on social media, the later he would stay out for premieres the later you would stay up until he returned.

When he was in town and he was able to spend time with you amidst the chaos of everyday life, you two found solace in each other's embrace.

But deep down you were terrified he would leave you now. He had everything he ever wished for from having nothing when you two first met.

You were a free spirited artist with a passion for painting who worked as a secretary for a famous art studio. You gained notoriety on Instagram as soon as you posted your first official piece which is how you still gain many of your clients. today.

Your job and artwork paid the bills while Austin attended acting classes then. You knew he was special, though he was extremely shy as himself, he blossomed when he was in character. You witnessed his raw talent many nights when he would read scripts in your living room.

You knew without a doubt he would be famous and helped him in every way possible to reach his goal. With his charismatic personality, unwavering love, and passion for sex combined you were head over heels in love with him.

You two met one fateful evening under the glow of neon lights at one of your studios art exhibits in the West Village.

All of the artists were instructed to incorporate clear luminous paint into their work so their creations would glow once the exhibit switched to black light above them for a big reveal.

Austin was there with his friends from theater class because he was a lover of the arts. As soon as the black lights were switched on Austin was drawn to your painting with an unwavering attraction.

He asked immediately if it was possible to meet the artist and your manager called you over. The connection was instant like a magnetic pull drawing you two together as if it were destiny. He was tall, handsome, and shy, his smile flashed when his blue eyes lit up seeing you for the first time and you knew it was love at first sight.

He had long blonde hair then and wore a baggy plaid shirt with a black tee beneath. His skinny jeans and vans giving away he was either an aspiring actor or a musician. As you two delved deeper into each other's worlds, you discovered a shared love for the unconventional, the unspoken, and the untamed.

You brought him back to your apartment immediately after the show. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you; in the cab, the elevator, and even at your front door. Once you fumbled into your apartment he began taking of his clothing.

You waited and watched as he revealed he was hiding the fittest muscled body you’d ever seen beneath his modest clothing. When he mentioned he would be flying to New Zealand to film a show as an elf you were not expecting his body to be the most sexually desirable one you’d ever seen. You were extremely turned on by him.

As he stood fully naked in your living room with his shoulder length blonde hair and his large cock you began to strip off your clothing too.

He smiled and came closer helping you pull off your shoulder straps to drop your dress, then he kneeled down pulling your panties off as you stepped out of them. As he rose to stand taller than you he placed his hand beneath your hair and held the nape of your neck pulling you to him and sinking his lips onto yours in a deeply powerful kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of pure, unbridled emotion. Austin kissed you passionately as you both felt the sparks igniting between you two. He enjoyed the feeling so much he smiled and began to open his lips onto yours lingering on your kisses with an extreme warmth that turned you on so much you became wet.

“I have …a condom.”he said between kisses “I’m on …birth control.” You whispered back against his lips. Hearing your verbal consent he easily picked you up into his strong arms taking his hands cupping them one at a time under your thighs making you wrap your legs around his waist

He was so strong and the moment was so intense you shivered as he stared into yours eyes. He confidently smiled and you knew he was going to make you his. “Where’s you bedroom “ he asked staring at your lips. Looking closely at his angelic face as he easily carried you made you lose all of your resolve you couldn’t even speak you just pointed the way and he smiled. He knew you were his.

He gently tossed you down on your bed and kneeled between your legs pulling you to the edge. “Can I taste you? “ he asked permission and you nodded eagerly.

With a gentle yet confident touch, he reached his hands up and spread your thighs apart. Your core was already throbbing when he placed his tongue to your folds. He grazed it up and down your sensitive wet folds until it sent a shiver up your spine. Your hands immediately flew to his long hair pulling and tugging it as you praised him.

He leaned in pressing his mouth onto your folds trying to reach the depths of your core with his tongue lapping which sent shockwaves throughout your entire body. His tongue was relentless and electrifying, while his mouth sucked your folds tenderly. With each skilled lick and suck from his mouth you felt yourself surrendering to the overwhelming desire that consumed you.

You tried to calm your imminent orgasm but it was too late. Your legs began to quiver lost in the intoxicating sensation of him eating you out. When he pressed his thumb into your clit and swirled it you gasped. Overcome by the sheer intensity of the moment you orgasmed for him melting into a pool of ecstasy as your core uncoiled. He licked your folds of your cum and trailed kisses as he climbed your body.

Starting from the soft skin of your navel, his kisses moved with a feather light touch, tracing the contours of your waist. With each press of his lips, your skin came alive, electrified by the intimacy.

As he journeyed upward, his kisses grew bolder, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. The warmth of his breath against your skin between kisses sent a rush of heat coursing through your veins, reigniting the fire deep within your core.

His hands cupped your breasts pressing each one with a tender kiss before he rested his chest onto yours. It seemed like time stood still as you stared into each others eyes feeling your hearts beating in perfect rhythm. His lips finally met yours again, and you both knew that this was the beginning of your relationship. Your heart was pounding in anticipation of what was to come

His fingers Intertwined with yours on the sheets before he lifted his hips and gently thrust into you. The pleasure of his large cock was exquisite. You arced your back as he stretched you out and filled you with his passion. Each of his thrusts carried the promise of so much more as he hit depths you never knew existed . It dulled the ache of your sexual desire and refilled it with an overwhelming sense of longing for him, only he could fill you this way.

With each thrust your bodies mingled together feeling your connection growing stronger with the sounds of your moans filling the air. As you reached your peak he looked into your eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored the same affection you had for him. Without a word he cupped your face in his hands wanting to gaze into your eyes knowing you he felt the same.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the weight of his gaze, a silent admission between you two. And in that moment, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to lean in and lose yourself in the depths of his desires.

With a soft moan your walls fluttered as Austin thrust into your body and you came for him closing the distance between you two. His lips met yours with a tender kiss that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. In that fleeting moment time stood still and the world around you faded into obscurity as he came in you too and you melted into each other's embrace.

Wrapped in the warmth of each other's arms after you both orgasmed, you surrendered to the enchantment of the night. Your fresh new love painting the canvas of the universe with hues of passion and promise.

You lay naked and cuddling together whispering and sweet nothings into the night, knowing that this was just the beginning of your fated love story written by the universe.

But this love story was not without its challenges. Insecurities and doubts always lingered in the shadows, threatening to overshadow your bliss.

Austin thought you would leave him for a wealthy patron from your gallery in the beginning when he was struggling to find work. The arguments were like hell and you almost quit your job.

Now you feel that he will leave you for a famous actress or model having seen the more extravagant side of life. Seeing him on more than one occasion lingering and hugging females to closely at events you dared him to leave you.

But just like the calm after a storm on an ocean separating you two, the tensions dissolved and peace reigned once again. One of you would always bring the wine out which would start the flow of tender reconciliation, where words were replaced by gentle touches and heartfelt apologies.

Hearing Austins key turning in the lock surprises you, he didn’t text he had arrived before entering, but as he opens the door you rush to greet him. He is holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. He looks ravishing with his short sandy blonde lightly layered in waves.

Your lips meet as you embrace and your kisses are filled with passion and longing. He brings his hand to gently cradle your face and just his simple touch sends waves of warmth coursing through your body. “I missed you so much baby” he says finally breaking the kiss .”I missed you too austin.“ you say smiling.

Austin hands you your beautiful flowers. “I’m so sorry I’m late I had to get these for you I know they’re your favorite. Will you put them away while I shower then come into the bedroom.” He says pulling your head to his lips planting another kiss as he smiles “Yes of course Austin.” You say sweetly.

You do as he says washing them and finding a vase filling it with water. Next you carry the flowers in the vase and place them on the dining room table.

You enter the bedroom and Austin is still in the shower, you can hear his melodic voice singing and it makes you smile.

You hear his singing stop as he turns off the water and you strip down to your bra and panties in anticipation for him to come out of the shower.

The master bathroom door opens and you look at Austins body with a towel wrapped snugly around his waist. Each muscle is defined and sculpted like a work of art. His broad shoulders taper down to his narrow waist, creating a silhouette that exudes confidence and athleticism. Droplets of water glisten on his skin and his hair, with the scent of his soap and shampoo lingering in the air.

The corners of his lips curve upward in a mischievous grin as he looks at you with playful intent. You both have the same idea.

His lips part ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of his teeth, adding an air of allure to his devilish smile. “ did you miss me baby?” He says with a subtle tilt of his head. He drops his towel and your eyes immediately fall to his hardened cock. He exudes so much confidence and charm, as he stands naked in your bedroom that he’s practically daring you.

You immediately unhook your bra and pull off your panties and slowly approach each other.

Your arms wrap around each others bodies, pulling close as your lips meet in a sweet lingering kiss that turns electrifying.

Austin lays you down on the bed and trails kisses down your body. It’s a slow, deliberate descent, igniting a trail of sensation along your skin. With each kiss your breath quickens and your pulse races with escalating passion. He kisses every curve and dip making you a canvas for his lips to cover. You exert a gentle yet firm grasp into his hair conveying your desire for him that can no longer wait and he smiles looking up at you taking his cue.

He climbs your body and aligns himself between your legs sliding his large cock into the warmth of your wet entrance. He fills you completely when his tip meeting your core.

He thrusts his cock into you repeatedly in a rhythm of precision and determination. With each thrust, your coil tightens until, it springs free. There is a satisfying release of tensions as Austin grinds against your throbbing core creating a symphony of sounds and motions from you both in ecstasy. With each thrust you both feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing you are getting lost in the highs of each other’s orgasms.

As Austin fills you with his passions on the expensive duvet covers of the king sized bed It ignites the fires within you both that burns the brightest when you are together. A promise of devotion that transcends words.

As you finally pull away, your breaths mingle in the space between as you gaze into each other’s eyes knowing you both found something rare and precious, a love that would weather any storm and stand the test of time.

Together, you navigated the maze of modern romance unafraid to confront your fears and embrace each others flaws. For in each other's arms, you found your truest selves, imperfect yet perfectly matched.

You and Austin put on robes to enjoy each others company after the intimate encounter. You wanted to view the city that you loved out on the balcony. Austin brought a bottle of wine to pour you both glasses to enjoy before bed.

As you stood hand in hand, gazing into each others eyes above the city lights in your New York City high rise drinking wine together you knew that your love was your sanctuary, your false god, and your salvation all rolled into one.

🩷End 🩷

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ellebakers · 1 year

Text

☆ Still love you (+18)

Chad meeks martin x reader.

Summary : You're chad's first love, the one he had before liv, you also survived the woodsboro massacre but since that event you've been doing everything you can to escape reality even if it means destroying yourself and chad can't stand it.

Warnings : Sex, mention of death, blood, language.

everything was better before.

you have always lived in woodsboro, within a warm and loving family. you went to school all year with the same group of friends. tara carpenter, wes hicks, amber freeman, mindy and her brother chad meeks martin.

you have always been closer to chad, wes and amber, indeed wes has always been your confidant, the one to whom you talked about your problems and to whom you confided your secrets. amber your sidekick, the one with whom you did all your first times like your first cigarette, your first hangover and many other things you weren't proud of.

and chad, he was your best friend then your first boyfriend, your first love, the one to whom you gave your virginity and who gave you his.

everything was perfect, until the day your mother gale weathers received a job offer in new york.

you had to say goodbye to your friends, to your love to go and live elsewhere.

at first, your father followed you, but he couldn't handle life in a big city, so he left your mother to go back to live in woodsboro. why didn't you follow him ? well because of chad. when you moved to new york, you tried to make things work, you called each other, he came on certain weekends and you went to his house when you could, but the distance got the better of your relationship. little by little you lost this link, you no longer had anything in common so breaking up was the best decision. then some time later he posted on social media with his new girlfriend liv. so you preferred to stay with your mother and start a new life. apart from your friends and your father, you didn't care about anything in woodsboro.

until the day when wes called you to tell you that tara had been assaulted by someone wearing the ghostface mask. you didn't hesitate a minute and you ran to your childhood town.

the reunion with chad was embarrassing. just like meeting his girlfriend. but that wasn't what hurt you the most, no. what destroyed you was the brutal death of your father, that of your best friend wes and for the grand finale you discovered that the person you trusted the most was responsible for these deaths. amber, your best friend murdered your father and she was responsible for wes' death. she looked you straight in the eye, she told you how she killed your father, then she stabbed you multiple times, watching you bleed out on her kitchen floor.

she didn't do it alone, of course, richie, samantha carpenter's boyfriend was her accomplice and obviously her secret boyfriend. you managed to survive thanks to your mother, your godmother sidney, samantha and tara who killed richie and amber.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

this was all a year ago. a lot of things have happened since. you went back to new york with your mother to try to mourn your father. you had graduated and had been accepted to blackmore university just like tara, mindy and chad.

samantha had also moved to town, she lived in an apartment not far from campus with her sister and a girl named quinn. mindy lived on campus with his girlfriend anika and chad also lived on campus with his roommate ethan.

between your mother and you things have changed since despite what she had promised, she had written a fucking book about what happened while writing shit about your friends.

that's why you decided to take an apartment not far from sam and tara.

but despite your new life and the fact that you and chad became closer and closer, you felt empty. every night you dreamed of your father's death. and every night you woke up screaming and crying.

for months you felt like shit. but during a party you found a way to sleep well. thanks to drugs.

your dealer’s name was jordan, he was a guy who was in your history class. he gave you some smoking plants and you had the best night in months, so you went back and bought some over and over again so much that now when you feel a nightmare coming you wake up and take a few puffs to sleep well.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

this party was really bad, but the alcohol was flowing and your drinking partner. tara. was full of energy and she wasn't about to let you go. not now.

"i need another drink." informed you the brunette before leaving in the direction of the kitchen to reload.

you scanned the crowd for a certain boy. but you were very quickly disappointed when you found him leaning against a wall, a pretty redhead under his arm making puppy eyes at him. you took a last sip of your glass and headed for the dance floor.

you were dancing alone when jordan approached you, your mood lit up seeing him.

"jordyyyyyy." you exclaimed jumping at him.

he laughed and pushed you lightly. "oh oh i know someone who is drunk."

you rolled your eyes. "absolutely not."

he approached your ear and whispered to you. "i have brand new merchandise."

you bit your lip and nodded, whispering back. "you know i'm always a taker."

from the outside, it looks like you're talking about something hot. like two students who proposed a sex session.

at least that's how chad felt and his hand tightened around his can even more, he wasn't paying any attention to what the redhead was saying to him. all that was on his mind was how close this guy was to you and how you bit your lip as he whispered something in your ear. he felt his blood boil as you took this guy's hand, guiding him upstairs.

"chad are you listening to me."

without even looking at the girl he intended to fuck in the bathroom, he answered her. "no." then he went in the same direction as you.

once upstairs, he tried to open all the doors, but they were all locked and moans were heard in each one. he was trying to recognize your voice but he couldn't.

the fact that you could be one of this moaning girls made him want to vomit. not imagine you moaning, no, it was imagining a guy other than him making you moan that made him sick.

suddenly he froze when he heard your laughter in the bathroom. he put his ear to the door to listen.

"i promise you y/n, this guy was hot, but he lasted like three seconds."

your laugh made chad smile, he hadn't heard you laugh in a long time.

"i know what it is, don't worry."

jordan laughed in turn. "go ahead and explain. i have just entrusted you with my worst hookup, it's up to you now."

he knew he shouldn't be listening, but curiosity pushed him to press his ear even closer to the door.

"okay. It was like two years ago. my mom was at a social party. i was bored to death and one of the waiters was flirting with me so i ended up letting him fuck me in the storeroom except. he came in like two thrusts and moaned oh shit, yes i’m your little slut."

your dealer burst out laughing throwing his head back. "oh fuck. will we ever find a handsome and talented guy in bed."

you took a puff of your magic cigarette before turning to jordan. "i had found him. chad, my first love."

"oh oh chad like your buddy chad." you nodded. "yeah, he was my first boyfriend and obviously my first time. i never loved anyone else after him. and believe me, i slept with a lot of guys after our breakup however, i never had so many orgasms with them, whereas when chad and i did it, he didn't give me a minute of rest ."

jordan clapped a hand against his chest. "y/n stop otherwise i'll come down and fuck him myself."

you rolled your eyes. "he's probably already busy with the pretty redhead he had under his arm earlier."

jordan shook his head. "listen even if he's good in bed, he's dumb. if i had an ex as hot as you, i'd do anything to get her back."

chad didn't know what to do. he felt the blush rise to his cheeks, not only had you never loved after him but you confessed that he was the best sex of your life.

he widened his eyes when he heard you say. "i want to fuck now."

jordan cleared his throat. "oh uh, that's really cool, but you know i like guys then." you burst out laughing and nudged his shoulder. "i'm not talking about you jordan. i just want to fuck that's all."

he laughed in turn. "i'm sure you can find a guy or a vibrator. anyway. i'll go." you got up from the bathtub where you were. "wait, how much do i owe you for this ?" he shook his head. "nothing at all, a little magic cigarette from time to time is good."

chad frowned. you were on drugs.

he didn't have time to hide, jordan opened the door and came face to face with him. the dealer turns to you. "oh chad." you pulled out the joint you were smoking and groaned when you saw him. "shit."

he pushed aside to let jordan pass and he entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him, sticking his back to it. he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you. "if you're looking for a free bathroom for your antics with the pretty redhead, there's one downstairs i think." you put on a fake smile and looked at your reflection in the mirror to fix the mascara that had run due to the heat.

"since when do you do this ?" he asked you.

you didn't even try to deny or avoid the question, you kept removing the mascara using a cotton ball you had found and water. "since i wake up every night screaming after dreaming of my father's death." you dropped it so naturally that he was seized with shivers. he straightened up and approached you. "what ?"

you caught his eye in the mirror and shrugged. "when I'm not dreaming of my father's death, i'm dreaming of wes' death or what amber did to me, so. what you saw me smoked helps me sleep without waking me up screaming and crying."

he turned you to him and put his hands on your hips. "why didn't you tell me, i could have helped."

"and how huh ? by coming to tuck me in. by reading me a story."

he paused, considering what to say. then he took your face in his hands and ran his thumb over your lips. "like that." he leaned down and put his lips against yours. instinctively you put your arms around his neck and kissed him back. he gently passed his tongue against your lips to ask permission to enter. you gave it to him as you opened your mouth and your tongues danced until you had to push each other to breathe.

"it works quite well."

he rested his forehead against yours and stroked your cheek with his thumb. "so stop taking that shit."

you closed your eyes and exhaled. "chad, i have no other solutions."

he nodded. "you have other solutions. i just showed you one."

you growled and pushed you away from him to turn towards the mirror. "and what am I supposed to do ? call you every time in the middle of the night so that you come and kiss me and then leave. it will be useless because in any case i find myself alone in this apartment ."

he leaned his chest against your back and pushed your hair over one shoulder to gain access to your neck. he gave it a few kisses before putting his chin up and looking at you in the mirror.

"you don't have to be alone. i can stay with you."

he put his hands around your waist and you put your hand on his. feeling him against you reassured you.

"that's when you're going to tell me that's what friends do. isn't it."

he rested his mouth on your neck but instead of kissing it he sucked it lightly, which forced you to bite your lip to keep you from moaning. after all these years he still knew where your sensitive spot is.

he lifted his mouth slightly. "i think we know you like me that we are more than friends."

he ran one of his hands over your breasts sensually, made you arch your back, he took advantage of the fact that you weren't wearing a bra to take one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, made you moan. your dress was so thin that you felt like you were naked under his hands.

"i still love you. you know it y/n, you always knew it."

"chad." you whispered. as he continued to play with your now hard nipples, he reached his other hand between your thighs and stroked you gently but adding pressure. that drove you crazy. you needed him and now.

he turned you around stopping his gestures on your body and kissed you. he picked you up gently and placed you on the sink.

"baby if only you knew how much i pictured us like this." he whispered against your mouth. "you, sweating and begging me to keep going. and me, deep inside you. for years i couldn't stop thinking about us, the way our bodies fit perfectly together. the way you arched your body every time that i was hitting that sweet spot."

he was going to kill you, not only with his words but also by his lack of caresses. "chad touch me please."

he smiled against your mouth and without warning, he tore your panties and inserted a finger inside you. the pleasure was such that you arched your back and moaned louder, louder than with any other guy.

"tell me that you also thought of us."

you gasped as he inserted a second finger. writhing in pleasure you grabbed his top and pulled him against your lips. he kissed you with such fervor that your whole body burst into flames.

"all the time." you whispered against his mouth.

he withdrew his fingers and pushed himself away. you were about to complain but he got down on his knees and took your thighs which he pulled to bring you closer to the edge of the sink, taking care not to let you fall. you understood very quickly what he had in mind.

he spread your thighs, put one of your legs on his shoulder and he started what he had wanted to do for too long. he began by leaving kisses inside your thigh while going up, made you shiver.

you slipped a hand behind his head to guide him, impatient because you knew what he was capable of with his mouth.

he looked at you one last time, admiring the girl he was in love with then he plunged his head between your legs and inserted his tongue into your pussy.

you arch your back and moan his name. "chad. fuck keep going." you continued to moan louder and louder as he sucked, licked and shoved his tongue in.

hearing you moan made him harden, he was so hard that he had to palm himself through his jeans to relieve himself a little. it was sure that he was going to cum without you even touching him. just with the sounds you made.

when your moans became louder and louder he understood that you were going to cum so he continued to devour you until you reached orgasm.

once done. he got up and kissed you. you slipped a hand between the two of you and started to undo his belt but he pushed your hands away. you frown. "why ?" he smiled at you. "i heard what you said a little earlier. that you wanted to fuck, so here's what i'm going to do. i'm going to take you back to your apartment and fuck you until morning."

and chad was a man of his word. he had actually walked you home and then he had fucked you in all the positions he had imagined you in and on every surface of your apartment, from the kitchen, to the dining room table, to the sofa and to the bedroom. put it all to bed until morning. and the short time you slept, you didn't have a single nightmare.

✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚ ✚

#chad meeks smut #chad meeks martin #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin x you #scream vi

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rubyreduji · 1 year

Text

of boobs and basses — ljh

summary: jihoon gets to meet his favorite rockstar, things only go up from there

tags: smut (minors dni!), fluff, idol!woozi, rockstar!reader warnings: smoking, explicit sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, praise, fingering, biting and marking, oral, cum swallowing, finger sucking, spanking, hair pulling, creampie, crying, choking, squirting, over stimulation wc: 13.3k an: yes the reader and her band are based off of maneskin and vic de angelis. yes there is plot (but also a fair amount of smut ok). yes i love the banner thank you for noticing. here’s the playlist for this fic

Jihoon hates flying. Not because he hates traveling or because he’s afraid of heights, no he just finds it boring. Luckily he has WiFi and he can put his headphones on and sleep through the flight.

He’s sitting next to Seokmin who seems just as restless as Jihoon is, though Jihoon is a bit better at covering it up.

“Hyung, what are you listening to?” Seokmin leans over to try and look at Jihoon’s phone. His phone displays that he’s listening to Backseat Sex by LADYKILLER. “Oh, that’s the band with that girl you’re obsessed with. The one with the boobs.”

The words out of Seokmin’s mouth make Jihoon blush and he snatches his phone away. Seokmin isn't exactly wrong though.

Y/N L/N. Bassist for the rock band LADYKILLER. Jihoon may have a giant crush on you.

You and your band are well known for your ‘edgy’ image and your sexual stage presence. It’s not uncommon to see you on stage sporting nothing but pasties and a fishnet top. Sometimes no pasties at all. It seems these days he can’t even go on Twitter without seeing clips of you performing on stage topless, not that Jihoon minds.

That’s not why Jihoon has a crush on you though. You write most of your band’s songs, and to Jihoon nothing is more attractive than someone who understands music. You also just seem like a cool person, based off of interviews you’ve done and your fan interaction Jihoon has seen on social media. The way you handle fame is very different from how idols do, he likes seeing how free you are with your self expression.

Your music isn’t normally something Jihoon would like, but he saw one of your guys’ performances on Twitter and has been hooked since. Your stage presence is incredible and the chemistry of your group adds to that.

“Hyung this music is really…intense,” Seokmin says to Jihoon. Jihoon isn’t sure how much time has passed since Seokmin last spoke to him but when Jihoon looks over he can see that Seokmin has his earbuds in, listening to one of your songs.

Ex-Fling, off of your Razor Sharp Rampage album. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite albums.

“You really enjoy this stuff?” Seokmin asks.

Jihoon flushes a bit, “Yeah. Their lyrics are good.”

Seokmin gives him a skeptical look. “If you say so, hyung.”

As soon as the plane lands in New York, the boys are swept away to the Radio City Music Hall. The VMAs aren’t until tomorrow, but Seventeen is scheduled to do their rehearsals today.

“You guys are a bit early, so you can just wait around and we’ll call you when we’re ready,” one of the stage managers tells the group before running off.

The boys break off to go kill some time but Jihoon stays backstage, watching the way everyone runs around getting things ready. Jihoon’s eyes scan the area around him, looking to see who else is performing tomorrow night. He sees mostly backstage hands until his eyes land on one certain person and Jihoon feels his jaw drop a bit.

This cannot be real.

Jihoon feels like he can’t breathe. This has to be some kind of hallucination or something because there is no way this is actually happening to him.

Y/N L/N. Twenty feet away from him. Dressed in cut off shorts and a tank top. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

He’s not sure why he’s so surprised. This is one of the biggest music events in America, and you are a popular American musician. Still, even if he was expecting you to be here, he didn’t expect you to be here. In the same vicinity as him. Even thinking about it makes Jihoon’s ears turn red. He feels like a flustered school boy again.

He was just talking about you to Seokmin and now here you are, right in front of him, looking like a dream. Jihoon gets embarrassed just thinking about how many times he’s stared at photos and videos of you.

You turn in the direction Jihoon is standing and your eyes light up when you see him. You start to walk towards him and Jihoon can feel his heart thumping in his skull. Surely you’re not walking over to him.

“Oh my god, you’re Woozi!”

You know who he is. Jihoon wants to pass out.

“I’m a fan of your work. I’m not usually a big K-Pop fan, but I like your stuff. Especially the solo you put out. Ruby? That was sick,” you tell him. “Sorry, I’m Y/N. Bassist for LADYKILLER.”

“I-I know,” Jihoon says. He’s thankful Vernon has been helping him brush up on his English. Too bad Vernon can’t help him with how shaky his voice sounds. “I’m also a fan.”

This seems to shock you a bit and an intrigued look crosses your face. “Oh yeah? That’s cool to hear.”

“Y/N! Come on, we’ve got soundchecks!” Jihoon looks over to see one of your bandmates (Tommy, the drummer) calling for you. A bit of dejection fills Jihoon. He wanted to talk with you more.

“Ah, sorry Woozi. It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you later!” You wave goodbye to the idol before running off towards Tommy. It isn’t until you’re out of sight that Jihoon realizes he didn’t say bye back.

“Jihoon-ah! Where have you been?” His members bombard him when he finds them waiting in a green room.

“I-I think I just met the love of my life,” Jihoon mutters.

Everyone looks at him a bit incredulously. It’s Seungcheol who finally speaks up. “What do you mean Jihoon?”

“She’s here, and I talked to her. Y/N.” Jihoon feels like he’s in a trance.

“Yo, from LADYKILLER? I love that band!” It’s Vernon who says this. Of course Vernon likes the rock band with the hot bassist who’s boobs are always on display. That’s so Vernon.

“The girl who’s always showing off her tits?” Soonyoung asks. They’d get canceled so fast if the Carats heard them talking like this.

“Stop saying that about her!” Jihoon’s face is probably red as a tomato right now.

“Is it…not the truth?”

“What girl is showing off her boobs?”

Jihoon wants to curl up in a ball and die.

“Jihoon-hyung has a crush on the bassist from the rock band LADYKILLER. Y/N L/N. Her band does a lot of nude stuff,” Vernon finally explains. “Their music is sick as fuck, but probably not in any of your guys’ taste.”

“She’s so pretty,” Jihoon mumbles.

“I hope I get to meet them too,” Vernon says. “James is so cool.” James. The guitarist. Jihoon thinks that he would get along well with Vernon.

The other members are all still staring at Jihoon and he wishes they would stop. Yes, he has a crush on a girl who is always topless. Can they please move on.

As if saved by the bell, a voice comes on one of the speakers.

“Seventeen please report to the stage. Seventeen please report to the stage.”

The boys all move to get to the stage, right as your band is finishing up. You wave at Jihoon when you see them approaching and shoot him a wink before following your band off the stage. And yeah, that definitely does things to Jihoon.

For the rest of the day and into the next Jihoon can’t stop thinking about you. He spends his whole night rewatching every one of your music videos, every interview you’ve done, and all the videos Jihoon has saved of your performances from when you were on tour last year. He might have an obsession.

Jihoon would probably have spent the whole morning doing the same too if he wasn’t taken to get ready for the award show. When the group gets to the venue they’re bombarded with cameras but once they get past those they are able to take their seats. Jihoon’s eyes scan the area quickly to see if he can spot your band, but he comes up short.

Soon the actual award show is starting and Jihoon doesn’t pay much attention to most of the awards, other than clapping when he should and noticing a few of his favorite artists when they come up in nominations or when they do their acceptance speeches.

When the time comes Jihoon gets up and goes backstage before their performance. He gets mic'd and then they’re being lined up to go out on stage. As much as Jihoon loves performing, he always finds it a bit strange to perform for people who aren’t Carats.

Jihoon does know that there is one Carat in the audience, so he dedicates his performance to you. The song goes too quickly for Jihoon’s liking and he thinks about how he can’t wait to be on stage with Carats again as soon as he can.

After their performance a few more awards are given, and Seventeen wins the award for the Best K-Pop and Joshua does all of the taking, as per usual.

Jihoon’s focus is lost again, until the announcer says a band name catches his attention.

“Next up to the stage with their hit single ‘Bruised Knees’: LADYKILLER!” The lights on the stage come up to reveal your band standing there.

Jihoon feels like a bit of a pervert from the way his cock twitches in his pants the second he lays eyes on you. You’re dressed in shiny black thigh high boots, a pleated mini skirt with a few chains and belts over it, and a button up shirt that only covers your shoulders and arms. Necklaces adorn your neck and dip down between your breasts that are out in the open. The only thing conserving any of your modesty is the silver star-shaped covers on your nipples.

Attached to your body is your iconic bass guitar. It’s sleek in a dark blue color. The rest of your band gifted it to you right before your first tour. You look good with it. If Jihoon is being honest you look like sex on a stick and he’s doing everything in his power not to pop a boner right now.

You have a smirk on your face and Jihoon swears you’re staring directly at him. You continue to stare at Jihoon throughout the whole song, which is about rough sex and giving head, like most of LADYKILLER’s songs are about. The songs that you write.

The special thing about your song ‘Bruised Knees’ is that it’s sung by your lead singer, Luka, but also you, with you singing the second verse and the bridge and sharing the chorus with Luka. The rasp in your voice goes straight to Jihoon’s cock and he really hopes that you (or anyone else) can’t notice.

You usually do backing vocals on the songs, but it’s rare for you to get your own part of the song and maybe Jihoon is biased but he definitely thinks you should sing more. Or maybe not because it’s really turning Jihoon on and he is in public and has a reputation to upkeep.

When you’re done with your song you wink at Jihoon again and yeah, Jihoon really is screwed because how is it possible someone can look so good.

By the end of the night your band wins both Best Alternative and Group of the Year. During both of your acceptance speeches Jihoon can’t pull his eyes away from you or the grin you have on your face.

When the award ceremony finally ends everyone is left to mingle. Most of Seventeen goes to greet some of the other K-Pop groups in attendance, but before Jihoon can join them, you’re approaching him with James in tow.

“Hey Woozi! Congrats on your award. This is my bandmate, James, he was wondering if he could meet Vernon?”

Before Jihoon can even respond, Vernon pipes up from behind him. “Yo! You’re James from LADYKILLER! Huge fan of your work man!” Vernon and James quickly engage in a conversation and Jihoon thinks it’s a little funny how similar the two are.

“Your performance was very good,” Jihoon tells you.

“Oh, wow, thanks! You guys too! I’ve seen videos of you guys performing, but seeing it live is a whole new experience. You guys are amazing.”

“Says the winner of Group of the Year.”

You scoff a bit embarrassed. You decide to change the topic. “Are you guys going to the after party?”

“After party?”

“Yeah. It’s basically an excuse for a bunch of musicians to get drunk together and do stupid shit. I’m only going because Tommy wanted to, but it would be cool to see you there. Your whole group too. No big deal if you don’t, but it would be nice to talk more.”

“Ah, yeah, maybe,” Jihoon says. He says maybe but he has already made up his mind that he is going to be there, even if he has to drag Vernon to go with him. There is no way he’s going to miss out on a chance to talk to you.

Vernon doesn’t take any dragging as he happily accepts to join, as it’s more chance for him to talk to the rest of your band. Joshua also decides to tag along with the promise to Seungcheol that no one’s going to get into any trouble.

Once inside the building, it’s clear this is a full on party. The air smells like alcohol and a wide variety of celebrities stand around talking to each other or dancing to the music. It doesn’t take long for James to find Jihoon, Vernon, and Joshua.

He shoots a smirk at Jihoon before telling him, “Y/N’s out on the balcony if you want to find her.” With that he leaves with Vernon and Joshua in tow.

Jihoon isn’t sure how to take the interaction and if James is giving him a hint or not. Either way Jihoon slips through all of the bodies in the room before finding his way to the balcony. There are a few people milling around but it isn’t hard to find you.

You’re still in your outfit from earlier and you’re standing talking to another guy who’s very close to you. A cigarette is placed between your fingers and Jihoon stares as you wrap your lips around it to take a drag. The way the smoke leaves your lips and blows into the guy’s face is…quite sexy to Jihoon.

Your eyes flit away from the guy for a second and land on Jihoon. Your face lights up as soon as you see him and you quickly leave the guy to approach Jihoon.

“Woozi! You came!” You smell like cigarette smoke and perfume and Jihoon has never been super into smoking, but the smell is intoxicating coming off of you.

“Jihoon,” Jihoon blurts out.

“What?”

“Call me Jihoon, please.”

You grin. “Okay Jihoon. Are you here alone?”

“Vernon and Joshua are here, but they’re talking to your band.”

“Ah, I see. Well then I guess you’re stuck here with me.” You send him a teasing smirk before taking another drag of your cigarette. The guy you were talking to earlier seems to realize you’re done with him and he shoots a glare at Jihoon before walking back into the building.

You lean against the railing of the balcony and look at Jihoon with a sultry look. You look so damn good right now in your stage outfit with your cigarette placed between your fingers and the moonlight shining down on you. Jihoon is glad he’s outside because he’s already having trouble breathing and he’s sure it would be worse inside.

“So Jihoon,” you reach to grab his wrist and pull him closer, “what’s a big time K-Pop idol like you doing liking a nasty band like mine?” His skin tingles under the touch of your warm hand against his wrist and he wants to remember this feeling forever.

“I uhm…” Jihoon’s face is hot as he tries to figure out what to say to you. “I saw a video of you guys performing and I enjoyed it. I enjoy how you write all of your songs.”

“Oh? What video was it?” There’s a teasing tone to your voice and Jihoon knows what you’re insinuating. Yes, the video he watched did include you topless. But he swears that wasn’t what interested him. Before he can sputter out an answer, you laugh. “I’m teasing you. I’m well aware of the…allure of my band.”

Jihoon wants to tell you that he thinks you’re more than just all of the sex appeal but before he can form the words he gets distracted. You’re staring at him intently, your eyes focused on his face.

“Y/N?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jihoon nods. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I kind of have a crush on you.”

Jihoon freezes. Did he hear that right? You, Y/N L/N, have a crush on Jihoon?

“Ah, I knew that was weird to admit,” you mumble after Jihoon doesn’t respond.

“No, no, I have a crush on you too!” Jihoon blurts out.

“O-oh!”

“I’ve been so nervous every time you’ve talked to me,” Jihoon tells you. He’s still nervous. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

“That’s…so flattering, oh my god. You’re just so talented and cool and pretty. You’re so pretty,” you say.

Jihoon grins. “I think you’re prettier.”

“I- I like that,” you whisper. “I’m really only called hot or sexy, so pretty is nice.”

“You’re beautiful to me Y/N.” Jihoon reaches out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “I think I’m going to die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

You quickly stub out your cigarette before grabbing Jihoon’s hand. “Not here.”

You pull him back inside and you two weave between people before going deeper into the building, away from the crowd. You and Jihoon find an empty hallway and you stop and face Jihoon. His hand is still clamped together with yours as you two stare at each other.

“You can uh, you can kiss me now,” you tell him in a soft voice.

“Okay.”

Jihoon hesitates, just for a second, before leaning in and capturing your lips with his. Jihoon swears that sparks fly the second your lips touch. The kiss starts out gentle but quickly becomes heated and Jihoon pushes you up against the wall, making you let out a low moan into Jihoon’s mouth.

Your fingers bury into the hair at the nape of Jihoon’s neck and you pull him closer. Your bodies are warm as they’re pressed together and Jihoon’s hands run all over your stomach, relishing in the feeling of your warm skin under his fingertips.

Jihoon swipes his tongue against your lips and you open up, letting Jihoon lick into your mouth. Your fingers tighten around Jihoon’s hair, pulling a bit, as you let out small whines from the back of your throat.

Jihoon isn’t usually one for hook-ups, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely inexperienced. He slots his knee between your legs and you automatically grind down against him. Jihoon can already feel the heat of your cunt against his leg and his cock stirs in his pants.

You two break away the kiss. You’re panting but Jihoon doesn’t take a break, leaning in to kiss at your neck. He sucks at the skin, trailing down your neck until your barrage of necklaces stops him. His hands slide up your torso to your exposed chest and he cups your tits. Jihoon kneads at your chest and you let out a soft sigh.

“How many times have you gotten off to pictures of my tits?”

Jihoon takes a shaky breath, “Too many times to count.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you mumble. Your hips are still grinding down against his leg and Jihoon is sure his pant leg is wet by now. “Jihoon, I need you.”

Jihoon's cock is hard in his pants and he doesn't think he's ever been so needy before. Just as Jihoon is about to pull his cock out, his phone rings. Jihoon grabs his phone to dismiss the call, but then he sees it's from Joshua, along with about two dozen texts.

Jihoon groans and picks up the call. "What?"

"Where are you? Seungcheol says our manager is looking for us, we gotta get back right now."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Meet us at the front and if you're not there in three minutes I'm hunting you down."

The phone call ends and Jihoon sighs.

"Ah, you have to leave, don't you?" You ask.

"Yeah."

You look sad for a moment before you perk up. "How long are you guys in town?"

"A few more days. This is kind of a vacation for us."

"Great! Here." You grab Jihoon's phone out of his hand and quickly type something. "That's my number. Maybe we can meet up later in the week. Since you're blue balling me right now," you tease.

"Y-yeah, okay."

"See you later Jihoon." You press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jihoon bids you goodbye and makes his way to the front of the building, hoping Joshua and Vernon don’t notice the straining bulge in his pants.

The next day the rest of Seventeen are planning what they want to do, but Jihoon is texting you. He worries that it might be too soon to ask to see you today, since you just saw him yesterday, but you tell Jihoon you’d be more than happy to see him today.

You send Jihoon a text with an address and when Jihoon pulls it up in maps, it comes up with an apartment complex. Your apartment complex. Jihoon suddenly remembers that your band is New York City based.

Jihoon is glad that you two will be out of the public eye, but the idea of being alone with you in your apartment drives Jihoon crazy. He really hopes you two can finish what you started last night. After all, you’re not the only one who got blue balled.

Jihoon ignores the rest of his member’s questions as he slips a cap and a mask on and leaves in one of the SUVs, giving the driver your address. Your apartment is closer to the outskirts of the city, but it’s a nicer building. Jihoon is sure that only people who have a lot of money can afford to live here, which makes Jihoon feel better about privacy concerns.

Jihoon puts in the code you gave him to get into the building and he makes his way to your apartment. When he knocks on the door you open it within a few seconds.

“Jihoon!” You grin wide at him. “Come in!”

Your apartment is nice. It’s large with lots of windows and modern interior design.

“I feel underdressed,” Jihoon mutters. He’s in just sweats and a t-shirt.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m pretty underdressed as well.” You’re in a soft looking skirt and a tank top. You look really good. Jihoon has to look away when he notices you’re not wearing a bra, your nipples pebbling under the cloth of your shirt.

Jihoon knows why he asked you to hang out, but he feels too awkward to jump right into it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you move into the kitchen and grab two cans of coke out of your fridge, handing one to Jihoon. You two move into your living room area to the couch.

You have a few things scattered around and there’s pieces of sheet music all over your coffee table and couch.

“Sorry about that,” you tell him as you pick the papers up before sitting down. “Those are just songs I’m failing to write.”

“Failing?”

“Yeah. I can’t seem to finish them. I get ideas and then get caught up on stupid things,” you say with a shrug.

“I could look at them for you, if you want.” The words leave Jihoon’s mouth before he realizes what he’s saying. “Only if you want me to! I don’t want to overstep or-”

“No, that would be perfect! Could you? Let me get my bass!” You jump up and run into a room before emerging with your signature bass guitar.

It’s even prettier up close and it looks loved but well taken care of. Jihoon’s gaze doesn’t falter as he watches you play. You yourself are lost in the music, focusing on playing and singing the parts of your song you have finished. Your fingers glide up and down the next of your guitar as you tap your foot against the ground to keep beat. With the sun shining through your open windows, you look beautiful like this. Completely in your element.

Jihoon has to remind himself of the task at hand and when he starts to really listen, he realizes it’s very different from the normal stuff your band does. It’s still just as explicit as your normal work, but it feels more raw and visceral. He brings it up when you’re done.

“Oh yeah, this is actually music for a solo project I’m working on,” you tell him. “I’m really not supposed to tell anyone, but I trust you Jihoon.” Yeah, his stomach does flutter a bit. “When I write I can usually just focus on all of the sexual stuff, but I’m trying to add in more emotions with it, but I’m kind of struggling a lot.”

“What you have is good. Let me hear some of the other stuff you’re working on and we can go from there.”

That’s how you and Jihoon end up spending a good part of the day working on music together. Jihoon doesn’t mind though, he loves music and something about writing and composing with you feels right. Both of your minds work in different ways, but combined you are able to piece together the songs until they’re perfect.

It’s comfortable, being in your apartment with you, doing the thing he loves. It feels like you two have known each other a lot longer than two days. You two just…click and it makes Jihoon feel warm when he thinks about it.

“Jihoon, thank you so much for doing this for me,” you tell him after you two finish another song. “I know this probably isn’t what you expected to do today.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m really enjoying myself. I think I’d enjoy doing anything with you.”

“Jihoon,” you say softly. You’re staring at him again, with your alluring eyes that just draw Jihoon in. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Jihoon breathes out and before he can even finish his breath, you’re leaning in.

You cup Jihoon’s face, kissing him fiercely as you do. Jihoon nearly topples off the couch, but he grabs on to you, kissing you back. Your lips clash together as you do your best to taste each other as much as you can. As much as Jihoon loves song writing, he can’t deny that your songs are very sexually charged, and it’s definitely gotten him worked up in the hours he’s been here.

You two pull away panting, and you rest your forehead against Jihoon’s. “Do you want to…”

“Yes,” Jihoon nods, jostling your head as well. You grin and stand up, grabbing Jihoon’s hand to drag him behind you as you make your way to your bedroom, just like how you dragged him into the empty hallway last night. Hopefully today there won’t be any interruptions.

Once in the bedroom Jihoon grabs your waist and pulls you back into him, your lips crashing together. Your lips are so soft and Jihoon wants to kiss you forever. He reaches up to paw at your chest, feeling your pebbled nipple under his palm. He squeezes a bit too hard at one point and you gasp into Jihoon’s mouth and he decides he wants to get you to do that again.

Jihoon pushes you back until you fall onto the bed and he can crawl over you. He helps you tug off your tank top before leaning down to take one of your tits right into his mouth, his tongue and teeth gently playing with your nipple.

You squirm under his ministrations and Jihoon slots his thigh between your legs so you can grind against him like last time. You seem appreciative of the rough feeling of his knee against you as you roll your hips against him.

“J-Jihoon,” you moan.

Your tits are slick with his saliva now and he tugs at your nipple with his teeth before releasing it. When he looks down at you he lets out a soft groan, his heavy cock stirring in his boxers. Your hair is already mussed a bit and your face looks warm as you stare up at him with soft eyes. Your bare chest is littered in forming purple and red marks and Jihoon watches as it rises and falls with your breaths. Jihoon can’t help but revel in the fact this is for him only. No fans or cameras or anything else to see you like this, bare and vulnerable.

Jihoon pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, and he watches the way your eyes trail down his pale, chiseled torso. Your hands reach up for him and you pull him back down on top of you, his weight settling on your body. Your fingers trail up and down his bare skin, your mouth pressed hot and firm against his.

Your leg is thrown around Jihoon’s waist and he rolls his hips into yours, his hard cock brushing up against your wet core. You mewl into Jihoon’s mouth, your fingers digging into the muscles on his back.

“F-fuck Jihoon, please. Please touch me,” you beg, your voice high pitched and desperate, making it impossible to say no (not that Jihoon would).

Jihoon peels his body away from yours once more before hooking his fingers into your skirt and pulling it down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. Jihoon nearly starts drooling when he sees the lacy, red panties hugging your hips. His fingers trail up your leg and he rubs a thumb over your hip bone against the rough fabric.

“I thought you said you were underdressed. You wore these just for me?”

You nod. “Thought you’d like them.”

“I do. Though, I think I’d like them better off.” With that he tugs the fabric down your legs as well, discarding them on your floor.

You gasp when Jihoon pushes your legs apart so he can get a better look at what’s between them. Your pussy is already shiny and slick with your arousal, begging to be filled by something. Jihoon reaches out and trails his fingertips against your puffy folds, prodding and rubbing in a way that’s nothing but teasing.

You squirm under Jihoon’s touch, but Jihoon just ignores you, too busy admiring how pretty your pussy looks right now. His fingers slip between your folds and dip down into your opening, only to pull back a second later. When his fingers emerge they’re covered in your arousal and he uses the slick to slide his fingers up your slit, catching on your clit. You intake a sharp breath as your body stiffens.

Jihoon grins and starts to rub your clit in gentle circles. Slow and almost lazily, his fingers go around and around with no real vigor. Jihoon can see the way your pussy is leaking, dripping down onto your bed. You’ve been letting out soft whines as Jihoon touches you, impatient for him to do more.

After what probably feels like an eternity to you, Jihoon finally slips his fingers lower before pushing two right into you. Your cunt is well slicked up and greedily accepts the digits being slipped inside. Your walls are warm and soft around Jihoon’s fingers and he slowly drags his fingers out of you before slamming them back in. He juts his fingers in and out of you as he strokes your walls with his fingertips.

To Jihoon it’s not much different than playing the piano the way his fingers move skillfully in precise ways to hit all the right places. In a way this is also like making music; the sound of your soft moans and pants filling the air, mixing with the slight squeak of your bed frame and the wet slap of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. It’s erotic and intimate and beautiful.

Below him, your body is shaking on the bed. Your fingers grasp at the sheets below you as your hips rut up into Jihoon’s palm. Jihoon’s whole hand is drenched now and his wrist is starting to ache, but he doesn’t dare stop.

“Fuck, fuck, Ji,” you mumble as your legs start to buck into the air. Jihoon pushes your hips down with his free hand and you let out a long moan as your walls clench down on Jihoon’s fingers as this thumb rapidly rubs at your clit.

Your hips roll against Jihoon’s hand for a few more seconds before your body relaxes into the bed. Jihoon stares down at you in awe. You grin up at him.

“That was…so good,” you say, still a bit breathless. “But…I think I need more. Fuck me, please?”

There is no way Jihoon is going to say no to a proposal like that. You direct him in the direction of your condom stash and Jihoon quickly shucks off his pants and boxers. He’s about to start rolling on the condom when he hears you gasp.

“You’re huge,” you say. When Jihoon looks up, you’re staring directly at his crotch. Jihoon’s aware is he…well endowed. His cock is about six inches long, but wide in girth. “Shit Jihoon, get in me right now.”

Jihoon chuckles and continues to roll on the condom before climbing back into the bed. He pushes you back against the mattress and leans down to kiss you. While your lips are still locked together he hikes one of your legs around his waist before lining himself up to your entrance. He rubs his head against your folds before finally pushing the tip in.

Jihoon’s mouth breaks off of yours and he trails wet kisses down your neck to your chest where he latches onto one of your breasts. His hips rut into you, slowly shoving his fat cock into your desperate cunt as you dig your fingers into his triceps.

Your walls hug him tightly and it makes his mind a bit fuzzy, his only focus being on you under him. Your scent floods Jihoon’s nose as he buries his face into your tits and he wants nothing more than to eat you whole. He mouths at your peaked nipples, nipping and licking everywhere he can, marking you with his love bites.

Jihoon swears he’s the luckiest man in the world, being able to lay here in your bed, marking up your tits. How many photos has he seen of them? How many people has he seen thirsting over you because of them? And here he is, being able to devour them all for himself.

Inside of you, his cock pounds at your walls, stretching you open. The rhythm Jihoon set is quick, but not brutal, and the drag of his cock in and out of you leaves both of you with a pleasured feeling coursing through your bodies.

“God, you’re so hot,” you moan out. “Used to dream about moments like this. I would watch compilations of you grinding on the floor to the Good to Me choreo.”

The words send a flush to Jihoon’s already warm face. He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed or find that incredibly hot. Maybe a bit of both. All he knows is that he’ll never be able to think of that song the same anymore.

Everything about you is intoxicating to the idol. Particularly in this moment though, the way you keep whimpering his name is driving him mad. Jihoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he rocks into you harder, his cock slamming into your sweet spot, making you cry out even harder.

Jihoon can feel his balls get heavier, ready to cum. He latches his mouth onto your neck and sucks hard as his fingers flit down to rapidly play with your clit. He’s hoping to get you to finish before him, but his orgasm hits him by surprise and his hips are stuttering as he releases his load into the condom. He doesn’t dare stop fucking into you though, even after he’s milked himself dry with your pussy. Jihoon doesn’t let himself rest until your body is shaking under him, your cunt clenching down as your nails dig into Jihoon’s skin.

When you’re finally coming down from your high, Jihoon gently pulls out of you before tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash. He flops down on the bed next to you and you cuddle right into his side, pressing a kiss right to his pec.

He reaches up to rub his hand up and down your back as you two lay there in silence, pressing kisses to each other’s bare skin.

Jihoon isn’t sure how long you two stay like that, until your kisses get a bit more meaningful and suddenly Jihoon is pinning you against the bed. His cock is already half hard again and it doesn’t take much to get it to full mast.

Your second round is softer, but just as intense. There’s a more romantic passion behind Jihoon’s motions as he takes his time getting you both off. Sensual kisses are traded as you and Jihoon whisper praises back and forth.

Halfway through fucking you Jihoon has the fleeting thought that he doesn’t want this to end. You both end up cumming together, your names falling off of each other’s lips with your foreheads pressed together. It’s oddly adorable and it takes Jihoon longer to pull out of you, completely content to keep his cock in you as you two lay cuddled in your bed.

When Jihoon finally does get up to discard the used condom and get something to clean you up, the sun is starting to set and Jihoon curses. When he checks his phone, his predictions are proved right at the sight of the numerous texts from their manager and Seungcheol.

You seem to realize this as well when Jihoon walks back to the bed and starts to get dressed.

“Do you really have to leave?” You look up at Jihoon. You look so cozy, cuddled up in bed, still naked. It really makes Jihoon want to stay and jump back in bed and tangle himself up with you again.

“Yeah, they need me back at the hotel,” he says instead, a bit discouraged as well.

“You’re in town for a few more days right?”

“Yeah, until Sunday.”

You reach out and grab Jihoon’s hand, pulling him to sit on the bed. You sit up as well, curling your bare body around his clothed form. You press a kiss to his ear.

“If you find the time, you should come to my concert on Friday.” Sleep laces your voice as you talk to Jihoon. Your body is warm pressed against him and Jihoon has never been more tempted to ignore his manager in his life. “We’re having a pop up concert to celebrate our fifth anniversary. I can get you seats in our VIP sections so no one would see you. I’ll text you the details but don’t feel pressured to come. Just, if you and your band want to do something fun, I can get the tickets.”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Jihoon turns to face you and you press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you then. I’d walk you out but…” You gesture to your undressed form and Jihoon laughs.

“See you Friday. Sleep well Y/N.” Jihoon presses one final kiss to your lips before leaving your apartment, already missing you by the time he walks out the door.

The rest of the week Jihoon can’t do anything but wait for Friday, excited for your concert. He can’t wait to hear your band play live again, but mostly he can’t wait to see you again. You’ve been plaguing his mind since he last saw you, and it’s not just the sex. Jihoon can’t deny the pure, unbridled chemistry between you two and it makes his heart thump in his chest.

When Jihoon brings up the idea to his members about going to see your concert they all say it could be fun and Jihoon sends you a text affirming their attendance. Jihoon thinks it’s a little silly, his group of K-Pop idols going to go see your very explicit rock band perform.

When Friday comes Jihoon takes his time dressing up and he tries not to hit Soonyoung when he points it out.

The concert starts at around 8:00pm and doors open an hour earlier than that, but you told Jihoon to arrive a bit earlier so it would be less obvious to spot them going in. When the boys get there a quarter after 6:00, they are ushered in through the back doors.

Backstage hands are bustling around and there are a few people shouting at each other. The venue space is nice, but not too big. From what Jihoon saw online, it’s a pretty exclusive concert to see live, but tickets were sold for online streaming as well.

The boys are shown to their seats in a balcony room with glass covering one of the walls so they can see the stage. It seems to have some kind of film on the other side so they can see out, but nobody can see in.

“Wah, this is nice,” Seokmin says as he looks around the room.

“And for free too, Jihoonie hooked us up well,” Seungcheol adds. “This Y/N girl must like you a lot.”

Jihoon can feel his ears heating up. “Yah, all of you shut up.”

He turns away from his members, too embarrassed to continue the conversation. Jihoon does have to admit, you really are doing a lot giving free tickets to the thirteen men on such a short notice, and to get them into such a nice room.

When the doors open, Jihoon watches as your fans flood into the room. He can hear the chatter of everyone and he smiles at how excited all of your fans are to see you. The whole place packs up soon as everyone waits impatiently for the show to start.

Then the time hits and everyone is screaming as your band walks onto the stage. Jihoon’s eyes automatically fall to your figure and his heart beats against his ribcage. You’ve got a wide smile on your face as you strap your bass onto your body and walk up to your mic.

“Let’s make some noise!” Luka shouts into the mic and everyone erupts into applause. “Welcome to our 5th anniversary pop up concert, we are LADYKILLER, and tonight, we’re gonna have a good time. We’ll be keeping this casual tonight so get comfortable, get hype, and enjoy this first song.”

Jihoon’s eyes trail up and down your figure as your fingers fly over the strings of your bass. You’re dressed in a black leather boots, a short black denim skirt, and a silky white tank top lined with black lace. Your top looks closer to lingerie than an actual shirt and Jihoon can tell once again you’re not wearing a bra underneath.

You didn’t bother covering the hickies Jihoon left all over your chest and Jihoon feels his face heat up. The dark purple marks are scattered all over your bare skin and even though he’s a bit mortified, he’s also a bit proud.

Jihoon’s not the only one who notices the hickeys and he can feel his members send him suggestive looks as they watch the performance. Jihoon does his best to ignore them and focus on the band playing.

Jihoon admires how good you look up on stage. You really know how to work the crowd and you’re nothing short of mesmerizing to Jihoon. Every video he’s seen of you on stage doesn’t nearly do the real thing justice. After the first four songs your band stops the setlist to do some fan interaction.

“Y/N!” Someone calls from the audience. “Who gave you those hickeys!”

Jihoon wants to die as his members start to howl in their booth and Jihoon hopes that it’s sound proof. You just laugh along.

“Ah, these? They’re pretty aren’t they?” You run your fingers over your clavicle. “Now for who gave them to me…it’s not very nice of me to kiss and tell is it? But who knows? Maybe the perpetrator is sitting in this very room right now.” You wink at the audience and everyone goes crazy, screaming at your words.

The concert is fun, with lots of crowd interactions as you guys answer questions and give your own anecdotes from the past five years. You guys even tease your next album, sending the crowd into a frenzy when they see the teaser for one of the music videos.

It isn’t until closer to the end of the concert that Jihoon starts to have a real problem. In one of your most popular songs there’s a wicked bass solo that consists of you playing for two minutes straight and it’s one of the reasons why you are one of the more popular members of your group (on top of well…you know). Normally Jihoon would be entranced by the skillful way you play your instrument, putting your whole heart and soul into your solo, but today he can’t focus on anything other than the way you look.

You look sultry as you smirk out at the audience. At one point your eyes flit up to where Jihoon is sitting and you wink and Jihoon thinks he might pass out from how sexy you look right now. You put your whole body into playing and when you bend over, Jihoon can see your bare tits hanging freely in the air and he has to shift around to adjust his growing hard on. He doesn’t know if he should worship or despise whoever your stylist is.

Behind him, he can hear Jeonghan and Joshua snickering. Jihoon does his best to think about anything that will get his semi-hard cock to go down, but unfortunately for him the last song in your set list is hands down the most sexually charged.

As soon as the opening notes are heard, the whole atmosphere of the room changes. The lights dim as red accent lights bask the stage. Jihoon can’t peel his eyes away from you as you move with the music, your hips swaying along in a hypnotizing way.

He gasps a bit when Luka comes up behind you and grabs your hips, practically grinding on you as he sways with you. His hands travel up your sides and he brushes his fingertips over the upper part of your chest. When his hands move back down, this time they’re pressed to your front, dragging over your tits and down your stomach before he finally pulls away.

The whole time the crowd is hooked, and so is Jihoon. He’s a bit jealous that someone else is touching you in such an intimate way, but he knows it’s nothing but fan service, so he instead focused on how incredibly erotic he finds the moment, imagining he’s the one touching you instead.

After the song is finished your band thanks the audience before exiting the stage. The whole room is still buzzing with energy as they start to exit and Jihoon’s members seem to be hyped up as well.

“I see why you like them Jihoon,” Mingyu says and Jeonghan snorts.

“I can too.”

Jihoon groans but thankfully he’s saved when someone comes to retrieve them and guide them to the backstage area where your band is standing. You’re leaning against an audio case, drinking a bottle of water. Your body is shining with the post concert glow Jihoon is so familiar with. Jihoon is lost staring at you when a voice grabs his attention.

“Hey Y/N, isn’t that your boyfriend?” It’s Tommy who says this as he glances over to where Jihoon and the rest of Seventeen stands. Jihoon tries not to get flustered over his choice of words.

When you look over to where Tommy is motioning, your face instantly lights up at the sight of Jihoon. You stand up and cross the stage quickly before drawing Jihoon into a hug. “Jihoon!”

Jihoon snakes his arms around you and hugs you back. Your body is still warm from performing on stage and you feel nice pressed up against him. “Hi Y/N.”

“I missed you,” you whisper in his ear, just soft enough that only he can hear. His heart flutters at the words.

“Yo!” At the loud shouting you and Jihoon pull apart, just in time to see Vernon and James engage in a bro hug. You giggle at the two boys and Jihoon realizes that your hand has moved to hold onto his tightly.

The rest of your band is walking over and Tommy and Luka greet Vernon and Joshua. While everyone makes conversation you squeeze Jihoon’s hand and pull him away. He follows after, figuring his boys will be occupied with your boys for a while.

You pull Jihoon away from the backstage area and into your dressing room. It’s nice and large with a plush looking couch pushed against one wall. As soon as you close the door of your room you’re pushing Jihoon onto the couch and climbing on top of him, placing a leg on either side of his thick thighs. Automatically Jihoon’s hands fly up to hold your waist.

Your own hands cup Jihoon’s face as you kiss him softly. He kisses you back, soft and sweet. When you pull away from him, you wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body.

“I’m so happy to see you.”

Jihoon is almost relieved to hear those words. The whole week he questioned if he was weird to miss you so much after only meeting twice. He likes knowing you feel the same.

“I’m happy to see you too. You looked great up there.” As he talks to you his hands rub up and down your sides, enjoying the silky feeling of your shirt under his palms.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Really great.” Jihoon shifts under you a bit, hoping you get the message. You obviously do when you giggle and lean down, pressing your mouth to his ear.

“You know Ji, I’m always so horny after performing. Help a girl out?”

Jihoon nods frantically and then before he can even blink your mouth is pressed up against his in a hot, wet kiss. Your fingers grasp the back of his neck, pulling him towards you and he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you close to him. Jihoon can’t help but love the feeling of being able to have you like this again. You two fit together nicely and Jihoon wants to keep you in his lap forever.

Your thighs are tightly locked around his waist as you grind down on his crotch. Jihoon’s arms tighten around you even more as he bucks up into you. He’s been trying to keep his boner at bay but now that he has you all alone, he can stop caring. He rubs himself up against your warm core, already wet through your panties.

Something about the way you so easily fall apart in Jihoon’s arms drives him particularly mad. The soft whimpers that leave the back of your throat as you grasp at him more and more desperately. When Jihoon pulls away to catch his breath your lips are trailing after his, not quite wanting to let him go soon. Maybe Jihoon likes it because he’s just as obsessed with you as you are with him. He leans down to press open mouthed kisses to your throat and you giggle as he does.

“Didn’t even bother hiding them,” Jihoon mutters, his fingers trailing across the old bruises splayed across your chest.

“I wanted to show them off! You did such a pretty job.” You shake your chest a bit to show them off more, but Jihoon can only focus on the jiggle of your tits in his face. Jihoon dives down, his tongue laving right over them.

He can taste the salt of your sweat on your skin and it’s oddly intoxicating mixed with the scent of your expensive perfume and your weight pressing down on him. His cock is aching in his pants now, begging to find release.

You seem to realize this as you pull away from Jihoon and slip off his lap and onto the floor. The sight of you on your knees in front of Jihoon is nearly enough to make him cum on the spot. You look up at him with big pleading eyes and Jihoon forces himself to burn the image into his memory.

“Ji,” you whine, “lemme suck you. Please. You look so good tonight, I need your cock between my lips.”

Jihoon’s in a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. It’s not much but he’s aware he looks good in the get up. He’s glad you’ve noticed as well. Jihoon internally gloats that while Soonyoung might of made fun of him, he’s the one getting his dick wet right now.

Jihoon shifts his hips a bit to signal you to go ahead and you dive right in, unzipping his pants and taking his cock out. It springs out of its constraints, heavy and hard as you hold it in your grasp. Without breaking eye contact with Jihoon you lean down and wrap your lips around the tip, sucking gently.

Jihoon takes an unsteady breath, not sure how long he’ll be able to hold out. He’s never wanted to cum as badly as he does now, watching the sight of your warm, soft lips on his thick, red cock head. Jihoon feels your tongue press up against his sensitive tip, lapping at where his precum has started to pearl, and he shudders.

He has to stop himself from grabbing your head and shoving it down his length. Instead he digs his fingers into the couch cushions next to him and goes his best not to thrust up into your mouth. You must sense Jihoon’s eagerness though, as you stop your coy act and widen your jaw, taking more of him in you. You bob your head up and down, your lips and tongue dragging against his cock, shooting pleasure through Jihoon’s body.

The sounds your mouth makes are the lewdest noises Jihoon has ever heard and he gets a picture to match it as he stares down at you. Your hands are wrapped around his length where your mouth can’t reach and your eyes are closed, focused on getting Jihoon off.

Your mouth and hands are skilled as you quickly work Jihoon to his high. You suck particularly hard at his tip and without much warning he’s bucking up into your throat, spilling his seed into you. Jihoon almost cums a second time just from watching you swallow down the load he gave you.

When you’re done swallowing, you open your mouth for Jihoon to see you took all of it and Jihoon can’t help himself from grabbing your jaw and running his thumb across your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth. You automatically wrap your lips around it, sucking on it just like you did with his cock a few seconds ago. When you finally pop the digit out of your mouth, Jihoon’s cock is already starting to stir again.

Jihoon is aware you’ve probably done a lot of hooks up before. You’re a rockstar who writes songs about sex, of course you have to get your inspiration from somewhere. Still, the thought makes Jihoon a bit jealous and he has to push it down in turn to watch you start to strip for him.

You start with your top, easily tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side. Your tits are just as perfect as Jihoon remembers them. Jihoon stands up from the couch, his dick still hanging out of his jeans, as he crosses to where you’re standing. Without saying a word he reaches out and gropes your tits in his palms. As his fingers knead at your breasts, he leans in, connecting your lips together.

You let out a hiss that turns into a moan as Jihoon pinches your left nipple hard. Your hands scramble to push Jihoon’s jacket off his shoulders, the article of clothing falling to the ground with your discarded shirt.

His shirt is the next to go and Jihoon lets out a dissatisfied grunt when he has to pull his mouth away from yours. He’s not too upset by it though, because now he gets to feel your tits press up against his own chest. Both of your bodies are on fire and the actual heat of your dressing room isn’t helping either, suffocating his thoughts so the only thing on his mind is you and your pretty little cunt.

Speaking of your pretty little cunt, Jihoon’s fingers work frantically at the buttons of your skirt so he can have better access to it. He pushes your skirt down your hips and grabs one of your thighs, wrapping it around his waist so he can grind his dripping cock against your drenched panties. He groans against your shoulder when he feels the rough fabric of the lace against his tip.

Jihoon steps back from you to take off the rest of his clothes and he gets a good look at you then. Your lips are dark and swollen from how aggressively you two have been kissing and your chest is already starting to sprout new bruises from Jihoon’s relentless attacks on the soft skin. You’ve also shed your last layer and Jihoon gets a good look at your needy pussy.

Jihoon lets out a long exhale, his body screaming at him to fuck you.

He’s about to when he comes to a realization, causing him to curse softly. He doesn’t have a condom. He tells you that.

“Doesn't matter,” you tell him. “I’m on the pill and I’m 100% clean. Condoms were just a secondary precaution, but I need you in me now. Please Jihoon, just fuck me.”

The thought sends Jihoon off. You just gave him permission to fuck you raw. The thought of your warm, wet walls wrapped around Jihoon’s cock without any barriers has Jihoon grabbing you and bending you over right there. You yelp a bit at being thrown around, but it quickly turns into a moan when you feel Jihoon grind up against your exposed folds.

“Ah~ Jihoon, please,” you beg. You sound so needy that Jihoon has no choice but to shove his cock into you. Your walls wrap around him desperately as he pushes into you. The fit is tight and Jihoon has to take a shaky breath before he starts to ram into you.

He can tell his cock is still just a bit too girthy for you from the way you whine every time he re-enters you. He slides his hand up your spine to between your shoulder blades and he presses down, pushing you into the couch cushions.

Jihoon feels like he’s in a porno with the way he’s fucking you. When he glances to where your bodies are connected, a creamy ring has started to form around his base from your pussy. The recoil of your ass as he thrusts into you is hypnotizing and he has to pull his eyes away not to get too distracted. He slides his hand up further and into your hair, pulling back to lift your head off the couch.

Jihoon can’t believe he gets to be here with you like this again, his cock digging deep into your sweet cunt. His fingers tug at your hair a bit harder and your walls clench down around him, sending Jihoon’s brain and dick into a frenzy.

“You like that jagiya?”

“Yes, yes, fuck Jihoon. I love it. Love your big fat cock and your strong hands and your sexy voice,” you ramble on, your voice tense and labored, taking breaks between your words just to catch your breath.

Jihoon’s free hand lifts up off your hip, only to go flying back down against your ass, resounding in a loud slap echoing through the room mixed with your moan. Your ass is red when he pulls his hand back and Jihoon does it twice more before smiling, satisfied with the way it seemed to turn your brain off even more.

You look so pretty under him, sharing your pleasure with Jihoon as he uses your body to get himself off. When Jihoon glances at your face, your eyes are closed shut, tears spilling down your cheeks as a line of drool connects from your mouth to the couch. Jihoon’s stomach tightens as he watches you and he knows he’s close.

“Shit, Y/N,” Jihoon growls out as a warning before he’s pressing his hips flush against your, releasing his load straight into your pussy. At the feeling of his cum shooting into you, you cry out, your walls clenching down on him, pulsating.

Jihoon is panting as he pulls out of you, him cum spilling out along with it. His cum slides to the floor in thick globs and you groan at the feeling of it exiting your pussy. With shaky legs you stand up, clinging to Jihoon for support as you pull him into a kiss. Your mouths and teeth clash together, but it doesn’t matter because your lips are tangling together and Jihoon can taste you against his tongue and for now that subdues the urge to devour you.

Despite both of you just cumming, neither of you give yourselves time to rest. You push Jihoon back onto the couch before climbing into his lap again. Only this time, you line yourself back up with his cock before sinking down on him. His cock is still hard and he’s still terribly turned on so he’s not complaining. He’s grateful for his idol stamina or else he’s not sure he would be able to keep up with your insatiable desires.

“Shit, you’re still so tight,” Jihoon grunts. “Your cunt is perfect for my cock. So good for me.”

His grip on your hips is tight, probably too tight, but he can’t be bothered to care when your head is thrown back and the nastiest sounds are leaving your lips. Your tits bounce freely in his face as you fuck yourself on his lap and Jihoon can’t do anything other than stare in awe at them, enjoying the show.

“God Jihoon, you feel so good in me,” you cry out. Your fingers are perched on his shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscle so you can anchor yourself better.

As you bounce up and down on Jihoon’s cock, more of his cum pushes out of your cunt and drips onto Jihoon’s lap along with all of the slick your pussy is producing. Jihoon wants to cum in you again, already obsessed with filling up your tight cunt with his seed.

His hands travel up your body and he gropes your tits harshly, pinch the nipples and scraping his teeth over your sensitive buds. You look like you’re about to ascend to heaven as you roll your eyes back into your head, moaning like your life depends on it.

It’s enough to get Jihoon desperate to go over the edge and he wraps his arms around your hips before pulling your body against his. You press your weight against his body, your legs giving out on you, as Jihoon starts to buck up into your sweet cunt. He’s sure the pressure is brutal inside of you, leaving you with a bruised cervix for later, but Jihoon only has one focus right now so he can’t bother being nice. He buries his face in your neck, doing everything to reach his high.

You seem to reach yours first, your body trembling in his grip as you trap his cock in a vice grip. This is enough to finally get Jihoon to cum for a third time tonight, spilling it all into your pussy again.

Jihoon’s body is sweaty and hot and he’s exhausted as he slumps back against the couch, out of breath with no thoughts in his mind. You don’t look much better as you drop your body on top of his, your eyes closing as you nuzzle your head against his chest.

Neither of you say anything for a while, just doing your best to regain your bearings and enjoy the feeling of your bodies sandwiched together. At some point Jihoon’s now flaccid cock slips out of you, but you don’t get off his lap yet.

When you two do finally pull apart Jihoon is still feeling a bit light headed but he’s at least back down on Earth as he kisses your tear stained cheeks, rubbing your back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, very good,” you tell him. “Just…very tired now.”

Jihoon chuckles and stands up to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge sitting to the side of the room. You take it and chug the whole thing down. While you do that Jihoon looks around the room for something to clean you both up with. There’s a box of tissues sitting on your vanity and he grabs that and starts to wipe himself down before doing the same to you. It’s not the best clean up he’s ever done, but it’s the best he can do for now.

Jihoon finds his clothes and puts his boxers back on before crawling back onto the couch next to you. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re cute, you know that?” You mumble into Jihoon’s collarbone. “Right before you were gonna cum, you started mumbling in Korean.”

Jihoon flushes. He didn’t even know he was talking, let alone in Korean.

He settles on saying, “Your moans are cuter though.”

You stay silent for a moment before speaking up again, your voice more somber this time. “You’re leaving soon right?”

“Yeah, Sunday morning, so in two days.”

You snuggle a bit closer into Jihoon. “Would it be ridiculous to say I think I’ve gotten attached to you.”

Jihoon huffs out a laugh. “Not ridiculous, I think I feel the same.”

The truth is, Jihoon has gotten attached to you, even after only two days of interaction. There’s something so alluring about you that draws Jihoon in. Just like a siren calling a fisherman, you’ve drawn him in and it’s only due time before he crashes.

Your presence is comfortable and everything feels natural with you, it feels right. Jihoon doesn’t want it to end. He wants to store you away in his suitcase and bring you back to Korea with him. Everyday he’d get to wake up next to you, your pretty smile being the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. You two would spend your days making music and cuddling on the couch. Then at the end of the day Jihoon would be able to press you into the mattress and have his way with you, enjoying the taste of you lingering in his mouth and soaking up every pretty sound he pulls from your lips.

But, he can’t. He has to leave you here, thousands of miles away from him, with a thirteen hour time difference from New York to Seoul. Not to mention you have your own careers and Jihoon is well aware of the time and effort his own takes. The Carats absolutely wouldn’t have it if it was revealed he has a girlfriend, who he was living with. Especially one with your public image. They would rip you to shred.

But god does Jihoon wish it would work out.

“Hey,” you say softly. Your finger is tracing patterns against his chest. “Would you maybe…want to spend the night at my place?”

Jihoon looks down at you and nods. He doesn’t care if his managers are going to kill him, he’s going to spend as much time with you as he can before he leaves. He shoots a quick message to his members who promise they’ll cover for him and then before he knows it he’s being driven to your apartment.

When you two get into your unit you order food for the two of you and then you fall asleep in Jihoon’s arms when you’re done eating. It’s painfully domestic and Jihoon holds you the whole night, afraid to let you go.

In the morning, when you wake up, Jihoon bombards you with a barrage of kisses and you giggle as you pull Jihoon’s body even closer to yours. It doesn’t take long to get both of you riled up, leading to your clothes strewn on the floor as Jihoon sinks himself into you once more.

That’s how you two spend the rest of your day, limbs tangled together, making love as Jihoon does his best to burn the feeling of your bare body pressing against him into his memory.

His head is currently shoved between your thighs, suffocating in your drenched pussy. You’ve had his thigh, fingers, and cock once but Jihoon is determined to get you off at least five times today. For now he’s taking his time though. His mouth moves slowly, teasing you so you get unbearably needy for Jihoon to give you more.

His tongue drags through your folds, collecting your slick and swallowing it down. Between the taste of your arousal, the sweet smell of your cunt, and the feel of your pussy on his tongue, Jihoon’s mind is muddled with a lust induced haze and Jihoon wonders if this is what it feels like to get high.

Jihoon’s plump lips wrap around your clit and he sucks on it gently, just enough to stimulate you but not enough to actually do anything. You squirm and whine and tug at Jihoon’s hair, but he ignores your attempts to get him to do more, content with driving you crazy for now.

Your legs squeeze tight around Jihoon’s neck, pulling him even further into your cunt. Your thighs are like earmuffs over his ears, cutting off his last sense so there’s nothing but you. Jihoon ruts his hips into the mattress under him, his own cock leaking and hard. He has a bit more resolve than you though, and he clamps his thick hands on your thighs, prying them apart once more.

“Please Jihoon,” you beg. “I need more.”

Jihoon pretends he can’t hear you as drags his lips to kiss over your folds like he’s making out with your pussy. He does this a few more times before moving his mouth off your core completely, turning his head so he can suck marks into your thighs.

“Jihoon,” your voice sounds genuinely desperate, like if Jihoon doesn’t do anything you’ll actually combust. This is what Jihoon has been waiting for and he tightens his grip on you before diving straight into your cunt.

His motions have purpose behind them now as he licks at your sopping cunt. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue flick back and forth over your hole. Your body is now trembling under him as you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, Jihoon, shit.” The words tumble out of your mouth as your legs shake around his head. He keeps eating your pussy out until your body goes limp.

He’s a bit surprised you came so fast, but he guesses you were pretty worked up from all of the teasing. And the previous orgasms.

Jihoon’s only cum once though, compared to the four times you have, and he’s not going to let you rest until he gets his second in. He picks himself up from between your legs and climbs over your body. He kisses up your torso, stopping at your tits for a moment, before finally making his way to your lips.

He kisses you hard and fierce, too impatient to be soft at the moment. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hips buck up into him when you feel his cock drag over your slit, his precum spreading against your folds. Jihoon is sure he could get off just like this, rubbing your pussy on his cock, and if he was just a tad bit more desperate he would, but he’s still slightly level headed enough to make the decision he wants to cum inside of you.

Jihoon spreads your legs wide before sheathing himself right into you. Your cunt allows him in easily, slick and stretched out from all of Jihoon’s previous efforts. His pubes brush up against your clit as he bottoms out in one go.

You let out a weak moan as Jihoon lets out his own deep sigh. Your walls are warm and soft around his aching dick and Jihoon imagines this is exactly what heaven feels like. As much as Jihoon would like to take his time with you, he’s already done that earlier and while teasing you, he got himself a bit too worked up as well.

Jihoon doesn’t waste time, plunging his cock in and out of your cunt. His cock hits deeper and harder into you each time, slamming into your plush walls. The noises you make make Jihoon want to fuck you even harder and he grabs your legs and pushes them up against your chest, exposing your cunt to him even more. The change in angle has his tip digging into a new place, making you moan even louder.

“Ji, Ji, Ji,” you chant as the man in question continues to slam his hips into yours. Jihoon groans as he looks down at you, his hands pushing down against your legs to keep them in place, folding you in half.

“So pretty,” Jihoon grunts. “My pretty baby feels good from my cock?”

“Yes, yes, so much. Feels soooo good Jihoon.” You’re babbling at this point, barely coherent from the pleasure you feel. The thought makes Jihoon smirk, gaining the urge to drive you completely for the edge.

One of his hands releases your legs and moves up to your neck, clamping around it. His fingers squeeze firmly and you gasp a bit. He feels your cunt tighten around him, causing him to squeeze even harder. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you throw your head back against your pillow.

Your skin is burning under Jihoon’s palm and he can feel the way your neck muscles move under his fingertips from the way you’re doing your best to let out strangled moans. Your body is already spent from the past four orgasms he’s given you, but he’s still not going to go easy on you.

He wants you crying from his cock. Coming undone again and again and again until you can’t remember anything other than Jihoon. Nobody will ever be able to be as good as him and every time you go to write a new song, you think of him and this moment.

Your pussy keeps clenching down around him and Jihoon closes his eyes, trying to drag this out even more. He knows he won’t last much longer though. The warmth of the room combined with the warmth of your body has his own skin heating up, fogging up his brain.

Jihoon feels your hand wrap around his wrist, pulling his fingers off your neck and moving them so they slip into your mouth. You suck on the digits, swirling your tongue around them, your taste buds pressing against his pads and that’s all it takes to send Jihoon over the edge. He cums deep into you, his cum shooting against your cervix.

Jihoon’s hips don’t stop though, pounding brutally into you, milking himself with your cunt. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and slips them between your bodies, flicking and rubbing at your clit furiously. It isn’t until he feels you tense up under him, that he finally pulls his dick out of you. As soon as he does, the flood gates are broken and your cunt is spraying your juices all over the bed and Jihoon.

The idol watches the way your pussy pulsates when you’re done squirting. You look completely wrecked and ready to pass out and Jihoon sees that as a job well done. Your leg keeps twitching every so often and Jihoon reaches over and massages it.

You whine a bit at his touch but don’t pull away. “‘M so sensitive.”

“You did so good for me,” Jihoon coos.

When Jihoon is sure that you’re not going to pass out he gets up and pads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water. When he gets back to the room he finds that you’ve rolled out of the wet spot you made and are now sitting up.

You take the water from him and chug it down before making a feeble attempt to stand up. Your legs shake a bit and Jihoon has to steady you. He helps you to the bathroom where he draws you a bath and moves back to your room to change out the sheets.

When you get out of your bath you crawl back into the freshly changed bed where Jihoon is laying waiting. You don’t hesitate to snuggle down into his arms.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you admit in a small voice.

Jihoon sighs. He doesn’t want to leave either.

“I know that it’s unreasonable to do long distance,” you continue, “and that we both have busy schedules but, I’d really like it if we kept in touch. Then maybe the next time you’re in America, or if I go to Korea, we could meet up again.”

Jihoon kisses the top of your head. “I’d really like that too.”

In reality, Jihoon isn’t sure what’s going to happen. He’d like to think that you guys will keep in touch because he really hopes you do and for once he’s letting himself be an optimist. It’s not exactly like he’ll be able to forget about you anyway, so it’s better to keep a place open for you in his heart.

Jihoon holds you tight until he no longer can and he leaves you once more with nothing but a kiss and a promise to text you. His heart aches in a way he didn’t know was possible as he boards the plane to fly back home to Korea. Just another reason for Jihoon to hate flying.

This time Vernon sits next to him and the younger holds an earbud out to him. Jihoon slips it into his ear and the sound of a familiar bass solo floods his mind. Jihoon sends a grateful look at his dongsaeng, letting your playing soothe his heart.

By the time the song ends Jihoon’s head is filled with ideas for songs about you and his heart is warm with a feeling that everything is going to work out in the end.

"Did you hear who's going to be featured on LADYKILLER's new track?"

"No, who?"

"Woozi and Vernon from Seventeen."

"Damn, I already know it's gonna be good. I mean, Y/N and Woozi? Sounds like a match made in heaven."

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee @joonsytip @heyxxitsxxtay @synthetickitsune @chwecardcaptor @candidupped @dreamhannies @d0nghyck @niyizh @baldi-2 @spilled-coffee-cup @sulkygyu @enhacolor @noniestars @heavenly-mobo @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @m1nghaos @just-here-to-read-01 @blxckswxnxge @17kwans @jeanjacketjesus @x-veex @namjoonbaby @ovai @belladaises @todorokiskitten @valentxi @yeosayang @98-0603 @miriamxsworld @morklee02 @luvv4svt @tinkerbell460 @toruro @lllucere @novalpha @yongi-lee @seuomo @niktwazny303 @brxzilianbaby @moshiyuron @im-gemmy @honeylovemoon @opwolfe

join my taglist: here!

#lee jihoon #woozi #woozi smut #woozi fanfic #woozi x reader #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #rru.fics #rru.writes #★ mdni

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katareyoudrilling · 4 days

Text

Audience of One (Dave York one-shot)

Pairing: Bodyguard Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: When online comments threaten your safety, you reluctantly agree to hire a bodyguard

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: a bit of danger, masturbation, unprotected PIV (please use protection IRL), a hickey (sort of)

A/N: This is my entry for @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope challenge! I got famous person AU and twisted it to fit my very niche tastes lol. It has been quite a while since I posted something, thanks for hanging in there with me. I really hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to @burntheedges for the beta 😘

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or let me know!

“I really think you’re overreacting.” You finish cleaning off your instrument and securing it in your case.

“I’m not and it’s not open to discussion.”

You sigh. “I’m a concert violinist, not a movie star. No one is out to ‘get me’ or whatever. This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” your manager forces you to meet her gaze. “There have been emails, social media posts… I know you don’t want to believe it, but there are creeps out there focused on you. I need you to be safe.”

She’s looking at you with so much care and concern that the fight leaves your body. “Fine. Send him in.”

“Thank you.” She turns to open the door to the dressing room and gestures to someone in the hallway. You gather the rest of your things into your bag and prepare to head to your hotel.

Your manager steps back into the room trailed by a tall, broad, dark-haired, incredibly attractive man in an overcoat.

“Meet Dave York, your bodyguard.”

. . . . . . . . . .

“I’m really sorry about this,” you apologize for the tenth time since getting into the back of the town car with your new bodyguard in tow. “All this fuss is unnecessary.”

Dave regards you across the darkened backseat. “Your manager doesn’t think so and neither do I. The sooner you accept my help, the better this will go.”

You lose your train of thought as the streetlights sweep across his gorgeous features. His pouty lips… his aquiline nose… his strong jaw… his dark eyes… each feature takes its turn in the lamplight. It’s probably for the best, taking him in all at once might actually kill you. No one has the right to be this handsome.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and find Dave watching you closely. You look away quickly, shifting your focus out your window. You cross your legs, and the slit of your dress opens, revealing your legs up to mid-thigh. You quickly adjust the skirt to cover yourself and tell yourself that you’re imagining Dave’s eyes flickering away.

You clear your throat, “Right, umm… how is this going to go, exactly?”

“I’ll be with you during the day. When you return to your hotel room at night, I’ll hand off responsibility to my security team. There will be extra security at your concerts and events as well.”

“That doesn’t sound too intrusive.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I hope you like classical music.”

“We’ll find out.”

. . . . . . . . . . .

And that’s how it goes. Dave meets you outside your door when you’re ready to leave in the morning and accompanies you on each step of your schedule. He tags along to masterclasses, rehearsals, concerts, and your own practice sessions. Ushering you in and out of town cars and back exits.

You share brief conversations in the car. His dry, sarcastic wit comes out little by little as you spend time with him. He often makes you laugh and you thrill when his pouty lips tilt at the edges into a wry smirk at something you said.

He leaves you at your hotel room door in each city at the end of the day, waiting until you close the door to call his security team.

You don’t lean against the door and wonder where he goes after he’s with you. That would be inappropriate.

You don’t replay the events of the day, the glances, the almost touches, that assuredly exist only in your own imagination.

You don’t catalog the little things you’ve learned about him. Single. No kids. Ex-military. Coffee, black. Unexpected crinkles around the eyes when he smiles.

You don’t seek him out in the concert halls, looking for a sign that he enjoys the music you’re making, always finding him watching you intently from backstage, still and focused.

You don’t find yourself pulling out your favorite toy to relieve some tension more and more frequently as the days spent in his company add up.

Definitely not.

. . . . . . . . . .

“You played something different tonight.” Dave’s deep voice breaks the silence of the car.

You hum your assent, “Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy. It’s a real crowd pleaser.”

“I didn’t know a violin could do that.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, the soloist gets to show off in that one.”

“You like to show off, don’t you?”

The energy in the car shifts in an instant. Dave’s dark eyes are even darker than usual as he regards you across the cab. The question hangs heavy in the air.

“You have to like to show off to do my job,” you explain a bit breathlessly. You meet his dark gaze, and he hums in approval. “Do you like to show off, Dave?”

He drags his thumb across his lower lip, your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“No, I don’t like to show off. I like to watch.”

His words hit you like an electrical current, zinging across your skin, breaking you out into full body goose bumps.

You hold each other’s gaze in the dark, your breath coming in increasingly erratic pants. He doesn’t look away. Neither do you.

You cross your legs and allow your skirt to fall open up your legs, just like the first night you were in the car with him. This time, the dress has an even higher slit—you save this particular gown for when you perform the Carmen, you enjoy playing into the persona. This time, you don’t cover up.

You watch as his gaze flickers to your bare legs, exposed practically all the way to your underwear, the tip of his tongue sneaks out to wet his plush lips.

He drags his eyes back up to yours. The air is thick with possibility. A line has definitely been crossed. Words begin to bubble up from your gut when the car pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

The moment pops like a balloon.

Dave opens his door and swings up and out of the car. In a haze, you open your door and step out into the night.

The next moments go by in a flash.

You hear someone shout your name, Dave yells, you’re shoved against the car, unfamiliar hands grab your shoulders and whisk you into the hotel lobby and into the elevator. The doors close before you can understand the commotion happening outside the hotel.

You’re flanked by security guards you’ve seen around after hours. The words “assailant” “custody” “weapon” permeate the buzzing in your brain. Questions form and dissipate in the tangle of your thoughts before you can get them out.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you are bodily moved into your hotel room. Before they can close the door, you finally manage to ask what’s going on only to be met with vague instructions to stay in your room and wait.

You pace the floor and look out your window, hoping for a glimpse of what might be happening on the street below, but you’re on the wrong side of the building. It doesn’t hold any answers for you.

Your hands reach for your phone only to realize it’s still in your bag in the car, along with your instrument case.

The car.

Your mind returns to that moment right before you pulled up to the hotel. So ripe with promise and possibility.

Then you had gotten out of the car.

Oh shit.

You got out of the car yourself. You opened your door yourself. You weren’t supposed to do that. Dave opens your door. Dave ushers you out of the car.

It’s all your fault.

Just as your thoughts threaten to spiral, there’s a firm knock on your door.

“It’s me. Everything is ok. Open the door.” You hear Dave through the door. You rush over and check the peephole like he told you to. At least you can say you remembered to do that. You confirm it’s him and open the door.

“Dave, I—”

He crashes into you, pressing you against the wall with the length of his body before claiming your mouth with a rough, desperate kiss. His hands grip your chin, your shoulders, your hip as he devours your mouth.

Your hands scrabble against his chest, finding the lapels of his coat to hang on.

Just as suddenly as you found yourself kissing Dave, you aren’t. He pulls back abruptly leaving you cold and breathless.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t ha—”

You pull him back to you by his coat, drawing his mouth back to yours. You lick into his mouth, moaning as he responds.

This kiss is less frantic, but still full of need. Your tongues tangle together, tasting and testing.

Dave eventually breaks away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m ok, but what happened?”

“A man came running toward you, the police have him now. I’m sure it’s the person making those creepy comments about you online.”

“I got out of the car by myself, Dave, I’m so sorry, I know I’m n—”

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your protests, until you melt into him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He drags his lips down your throat, across your collarbones and shoulders. He licks back up the side of your neck.

You gasp as he drags his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck.

“I noticed this mark the night I first met you,” he murmurs into your skin. “I was so jealous of whoever got to do that to you. I kept waiting to find out who it was, to see if they were worthy of marking your skin, but there has been no one and the mark has stayed.” You sense the unasked question.

“My… it’s… a violin hickey,” you pant as he drags his nose up the column of your throat and along your jaw. “Where my violin rubs against my neck when I play.” He chuckles.

“Should I be jealous of your violin?”

“Probably.”

He hums against you. “Fair enough.”

He steps back to the hotel room door and for a moment your heart drops thinking that he might be leaving, but he only opens the door to pull your bag and violin case into the room. You hear him conversing with a guard outside before he closes the door, locking the deadbolt before turning back to you.

He shrugs off his overcoat and suit jacket. He loosens the knot of his tie and begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. You watch the movement of his fingers with rapt attention.

“So, Miss Show off. Do you want to show off for me?” His eyes flash dangerous and dark and a thrill runs up your spine.

Adrenaline tingles in your fingertips as you find the zipper of your dress and pull it down your side.

You lock eyes with Dave as you let your gown fall to the floor, a puddle at your feet. You are left standing in only your panties and high heels.

Dave drinks you in, caressing your curves with his warm gaze. Your nipples harden under his perusal and wetness pools between your legs. It’s all you can do to not rub your thighs together.

“Get on the bed.” He commands, his voice deep and rasping with need. His shirtsleeves are rolled up now, exposing the tendons and veins in his forearms. His hands fist at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. But you’ve learned this about Dave, he is always in control of himself.

You walk over to the bed, turning your back to him and adding an extra sway to your hips. You catch his strangled moan at the sight of your round ass framed by the string of your thong. You turn to sit at the end of the bed with a satisfied smirk. Dave stands at arm’s length from you, pinning you with his dark eyes.

“Show me. Let me see if those fingers can play your pussy as well as they play your violin.”

You gasp at his filthy words and your center clenches with need. Keeping your eyes on him once again, you drag your panties down your legs and off, kicking off your shoes as you do, and scoot a bit farther onto the bed.

You lean back into the plush bedding, resting on one elbow, knees bent, and spread your legs for Dave.

He drinks you in hungrily as you part yourself for him, dipping your fingers into your wetness.

Your mouth falls open as you circle your clit, a moan escaping your chest. You fight to keep your eyes open so you can watch Dave watch you. You really do like to show off and he is an eager audience.

You quicken your pace, hitting the rhythm you like best, and find yourself careening towards your peak. Your hips buck on the bed, and you whine that you’re close.

“Show me,” Dave commands one last time before you fall over the edge, pulsing and shivering through your release.

“Do I get a standing ovation?” you ask, breathless, once you’ve come back to yourself.

“You tell me.”

You crack one eye open and find that he’s standing at the end of the bed naked. His cock juts proudly away from his hips at full attention.

“My favorite kind.” You lick your lips as you sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed. You look up at him as you take the tip of his cock between your lips, sliding down the hard length of him. You watch his stomach flex with effort as he resists fucking into your mouth.

It makes you want to make him lose control. He’s always alert and watching. Even in the car on the way to the hotel tonight, he kept his cool as you tempted him. Bursting into your room to kiss you is the only time you’ve seen him not in complete control of himself.

You tongue and suck and moan around him, losing yourself in the rhythm. Dave drags his fingers down your cheek and throat.

“Look at you, fuck.” He cups your breasts, swaying heavily between your arms, and pinches your nipples. “I want to watch these tits bounce while I fuck you.”

You whimper around his length, arousal practically dripping down your legs. He pulls out of your mouth, diving down to kiss you deeply and press you backwards onto the bed.

He arranges himself against the headboard and drags you on top of him. “Ride me, baby,” he commands. You eagerly comply, lining his weeping cock up with your entrance.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you sink down onto him, the stretch is so delicious with every inch you take. When you bottom out, you open your eyes to find Dave breathing hard, the tendons of his neck taut with effort.

You rise and sink back down slowly, angling yourself backwards so he can see his cock disappear into your wet heat. He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you, giving you friction that makes you shudder with each roll of your hips.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, eyes locked on your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole. You feel yourself start to flutter around him, the intensity of his eyes on you drives your arousal higher and higher. Being watched with so much desire gives you such a thrill that your orgasm threatens to take you far too soon.

You slow and lean forward, placing a hand on the headboard over Dave’s head. Your breasts wobble in front of his face and he quickly takes one nipple into his mouth. You arch your back into him as he sucks and tugs, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

He holds your hips still with one hand as he feasts on you, bringing his other to cup and pinch your tender flesh.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry as the pressure builds in your core. Your hips grind into him, seeking relief as he relentlessly toys with you.

He allows you to move, to chase your high, riding his cock with abandon as he looks up at you with lust blown eyes. You tilt your hips, and he finds your clit once again.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he praises you as you near your peak. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel you.”

You come with a gasp, rising up on your knees as your pussy clenches then collapsing back down with shuddering pulses. Dave caresses your back before rolling you over and gently pulling out. He kneels between your legs, stroking his length, as you lie boneless and hazy.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.” His jaw clenches as he strokes himself faster and faster. “I fucking love to watch you. Watch you play your violin… watch you touch yourself… watch you fuck…”

“It’s my turn, Dave,” you interrupt. “I want to watch you come. Come all over me.” You prop yourself up on your elbows and smirk at the way a shudder moves through his body. He lets go with a groan, ropes of cum painting your tummy and chest.

You both collapse, satisfied. Dave cleans you up, taking extra care with your breasts. You smirk as he chases the warm cloth with his even warmer mouth.

“What happens now?” you ask later, when you’re twined together on the bed. “If that was the guy…”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me and even after you don’t,” Dave presses a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his side, relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe and thrilled with the prospect of showing off again for your audience of one.

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

A/N: I don't have, and never have had, a violin hickey. I probably don't practice enough lol. But they are often seen as a point of pride among violinists.

Dave York Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist - in reblog

#roll a trope challenge #dave york #famous person au #dave york x reader #pedro pascal characters

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months

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Nobody

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 2, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 03, 2024

Today, Aaron C. Davis and Carol D. Leonnig of the Washington Post reported that there is reason to believe that when Trump’s 2016 campaign was running low on funds, Trump accepted a $10 million injection of cash from Egypt’s authoritarian leader Abdel Fatah al-Sisi. It is against the law to accept direct or indirect financial support from foreign nationals or foreign governments for a political campaign in the United States.

In early 2017, CIA officials told Justice Department officials that a confidential informant had told them of such a cash exchange, and those officials handed the matter off to Robert Mueller, the special counsel who was already looking at the links between the 2016 Trump campaign and Russian operatives. FBI agents noted that on September 16, Trump had met with Sisi when the Egyptian leader was at the U.N. General Assembly in New York City.

After the meeting, Trump broke with U.S. policy to praise Sisi, calling him a “fantastic guy.”

Trump’s campaign had been dogged with a lack of funds, and his advisers had begged him to put some of his own money into it. He refused until October 28, when he loaned the campaign $10 million.

An FBI investigation took years to get records, but Davis and Leonnig reported that in 2019 the FBI learned of a key withdrawal from an Egypt bank. In January 2017, five days before Trump took office, an organization linked to Egypt’s intelligence service asked a manager at a branch of the state-run National Bank of Egypt to “kindly withdraw” $9,998,000 in U.S. currency. The bundles of $100 bills filled two bags and weighed more than 200 pounds.

Once in office, Trump embraced Sisi and, in a reversal of U.S. policy, invited him to be one of his first guests at the White House. “I just want to let everybody know, in case there was any doubt, that we are very much behind President al-Sissi,” Trump said.

Mueller had gotten that far in pursuit of the connection between Trump and Sisi when he was winding down his investigation of Russian interference in the 2016 election. He handed the Egypt investigation off to the U.S. attorney’s office in Washington, D C., where it appears then–attorney general William Barr killed it.

Today, Brian Schwartz of CNBC reported that Elon Musk and other tech executives are putting their money behind a social media ad campaign for Trump and Vance, and are creating targeted ads in swing states by collecting information about voters under false pretenses. According to Schwartz, their America PAC, or political action committee, says it helps viewers register to vote. And, indeed, the ads direct would-be voters in nonswing states to voter registration sites.

But people responding to the ad in swing states are not sent to registration sites. Instead, they are presented with “a highly detailed personal information form [and] prompted to enter their address, cellphone number and age,” handing over “priceless personal data to a political operation” that can then create ads aimed at that person’s demographic and target them personally in door-to-door campaigns. After getting the information, the site simply says, “Thank you,” without directing the viewer toward a registration site.

Forbes estimates Musk’s wealth at more than $235 billion.

In June the Trump Organization announced a $500 million deal with Saudi real estate developer Dar Global to build a Trump International hotel in Oman.

In January 2011, when he was director of the FBI, Robert Mueller gave a speech to the Citizens Crime Commission of New York. He explained that globalization and modern technology had changed the nature of organized crime. Rather than being regional networks with a clear structure, he said, organized crime had become international, fluid, and sophisticated and had multibillion-dollar stakes. Its operators were cross-pollinating across countries, religions, and political affiliations, sharing only their greed. They did not care about ideology; they cared about money. They would do anything for a price.

These criminals “may be former members of nation-state governments, security services, or the military,” he said. “They are capitalists and entrepreneurs. But they are also master criminals who move easily between the licit and illicit worlds. And in some cases, these organizations are as forward-leaning as Fortune 500 companies.”

In order to corner international markets, Mueller explained, these criminal enterprises "may infiltrate our businesses. They may provide logistical support to hostile foreign powers. They may try to manipulate those at the highest levels of government. Indeed, these so-called 'iron triangles' of organized criminals, corrupt government officials, and business leaders pose a significant national security threat."

In a new book called Autocracy, Inc.: The Dictators Who Want to Run the World, journalist Anne Applebaum carries that story forward into the present, examining how today’s autocrats work together to undermine democracy. She says that “the language of the democratic world, meaning rights, laws, rule of law, justice, accountability, [and] transparency…[is] harmful to them,” especially as those are the words that their internal opposition uses. “And so they need to undermine the people who use it and, if they can, discredit it.”

Those people, Applebaum says, “believe they are owed power, they deserve power.” When they lose elections, they “come back in a second term and say, right, this time, I'm not going to make that mistake again, and…then change their electoral system, or…change the constitution, change the judicial system, in order to make sure that they never lose.”

Almost exactly a year ago, on August 1, 2023, a grand jury in Washington, D.C., indicted former president Donald J. Trump for conspiring to defraud the United States, conspiring to disenfranchise voters, and conspiring and attempting to obstruct an official proceeding. The charges stemmed from Trump’s attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election. A grand jury is made up of 23 ordinary citizens who weigh evidence of criminal activity and produce an indictment if 12 or more of them vote in favor.

The grand jury indicted Trump for “conspiracy to defraud the United States by using dishonesty, fraud, and deceit to impair, obstruct, and defeat the lawful federal government function by which the results of the presidential election are collected, counted, and certified by the government”; “conspiracy to corruptly obstruct and impede the January 6 congressional proceeding at which the collected results of the presidential election are counted and certified”; and “conspiracy against the right to vote and to have one’s vote counted.”

“Each of these conspiracies,” the indictment reads, “targeted a bedrock function of the United States federal government: the nation’s process of collecting, counting, and certifying the results of the presidential election.” “This federal government function…is foundational to the United States’ democratic process, and until 2021, had operated in a peaceful and orderly manner for more than 130 years.”

The case of the United States of America v. Donald J. Trump was randomly assigned to Judge Tanya S. Chutkan, who was appointed by President Obama in 2014 and confirmed 95–0 in the Senate. Trump pleaded not guilty on August 3, after which his lawyers repeatedly delayed their pretrial motions until, on December 7, Trump asked the Washington, D.C., Circuit Court of Appeals to decide whether he was immune from prosecution. Chutkan had to put off her initial trial date of March 4, 2024, and said she would not reschedule until the court decided the question of Trump’s immunity.

In February the appeals court decided he was not immune. Trump appealed to the Supreme Court, which waited until July 1, 2024, to decide that Trump enjoys broad immunity from prosecution for crimes committed as part of his official acts. Today the Washington, D.C., Circuit Court of Appeals sent the case back to Chutkan, almost exactly a year after it was first brought.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#WAPO #bribery #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #corrupt SCOTUS #Chutkan #certification of the presidential election #voting rights #disenfranchising voters #organized crime

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thebearer · 3 months

Note

i just read your social media manager two parter and it was absolutely delectable!!! would you mind (please please please) writing us a little snippet of the reader's staff spotlight of carmy and possibly all the commenters catching onto her feelings for him???? please please please i know you wrote it like almost a year ago but i would be forever indebted to you

omg yes!

i feel like it would be something like this:

@/thebear_chicago:

Can we get a "Yes, Chef!" for our last staff spotlight? Head Chef and Owner, Carmen Berzatto.

Carmen is no stranger to the kitchen, or this kitchen. Before The Bear, there was The Beef, owned and operated by Carmen's father and late brother, Mikey for years before Carmen took over and made it into what it is today.

Before he was head chef of The Bear, Carmen studied at culinary school in Paris and Copenhagen before moving to New York City, where he earned his stripes (and three Michelin Stars) at NOMA.

Now, he is dedicated to bringing his experience back to his home ground here in the heart of Chicago. From curating new menu items, to making sure there's plenty of forks, Chef Carmen does it all.

Don't be scared to send your compliments to the chef when you visit. Carmen definitely deserves them.

with like this photo:

if someone wants to bring this to life with one of those social media apps, tag me please i'll love you forever <3

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto social media au #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff

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through-rosey-glasses · 2 days

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PWHL Teams and Which Taylor Swift Era They are in

My sister and I were talking about how Minnesota Frost is clearly in their Tortured Poets Department Era, and that inspired the rest of this post. This is just a fun little thing I did, please don't take it too seriously or personally.

(Also for swifties, I used the old versions of album covers as it refers to that era. Red TV is totally different than Red ya know.)

Minnesota Frost:

Currently in their The Tortured Poets Department Era. Basically messy despite being on top of the world. The album came out after the raging success of Taylor Swift in her Era's tour and winning her fourth album of the year at the grammy's. This new album brings out snappy lines targeted at fans and revelations at how Taylor Swift didn't live up to the ideal many fans had of her. In Minnesota we had the recent firing of the favored general manager and drafting of a controversial player. You can't convince me that Ken Klee wasn't blasting But Daddy I Love Him, as he made all his messy decisions.

Boston Fleet:

Speak Now was a Taylor Swift era filled with spite and determination. The whole album was written by Taylor Swift alone, partially because her ex and some critics accusing her of not being a proficient writer on her own. After losing the Walter Cup, the Boston Fleet have the confidence that they can make it far and the determination to be better. (I also think spite comes naturally to Boston, not like they need a motivation or something.) This era is very youthful but honest, and I think that energy would be great to see in Boston next season. Someone blast better than revenge.

Montreal Victoire:

A personal favorite of mine, the Red Era of Taylor Swift had it all. Heartbreak, style, chaos, parties, love. This era was also risky and complex, Taylor Swift blended country and pop, bringing critical acclaim and a wider fanbase. Montreal has had a fun, but chaotic summer. Their draft picks are a fair mix of old and new. (With that wild Kessel pick) Their name and logo got rave reviews. People see the the good foundation the team has and are waiting in anticipation for what's to come.

Toronto Sceptres:

Reputation is a come back era, and Toronto has something to prove. Following a devastating injury to a star player, the team wasn't the same during the playoffs. This season they are going to have to show that they are still that team. Reputation is a fan favorite album and I have found Toronto to have the strongest fanbase. (They sell out most often and have the largest social media presence.) The team knows they are good and they have the support, they just need to rebuild.

Ottawa Charge:

Folklore is an era of surprising change. During Covid and following the cut short run of Lover, Folklore was an unannounced reinvention of Taylor Swift. It wasn't an intentional change, but one forced by the way of the world. Ottawa needs to find its grove and step into its own again. I haven't heard much from Ottawa on anything really, and I hope its because they got some cool alt indie surprise on its way.

New York Sirens:

Listen I am not only picking 1989 because it has a cool New York aesthetic. This is the era of leaning in and giving it your all. When Red didn't win album of the year, Taylor Swift decided to move to New York and reinvent herself. New York was last in ranking last season, but got first in draft. They have been working off season with insane draft picks and that somehow it worked out trade with Boston. New York has the star power, the New York city life, and the rebranding to help turn them into something new.

#natalie posts #pwhl #boston fleet #Minnesota frost #toronto sceptres #new york sirens #ottawa charge #montreal victoire #taylor swift #this was just a fun way to spend a saturday

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batfammeetsspidergang · 3 months

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Spider-Gang Headcanons

I was bored, so I decided to create headcanon character sheets for the Spider-Folks! Basically, this is how I personally envision the characters when doing incorrect quotes. Like I've said before, these origins are mish-mashes of the comics, TV shows, movies, games, and so on, plus some minor, original ideas. (And yes, I was lazy so I copy-pasted much of the info and stats from the Marvel Wiki. Shout-out to the editors and their amazing work!)

If your favorite Spider-People aren't here, that DOES NOT MEAN I don't like them! Lmao I adore Pavitr, Cindy, Jess, etc. These are just my personal favorites. Also, I'm still tryna figure out Ham's cartoon powers, and movie-verse Miguel can go sit on a barbed wire brush XD

P.S. No ai art was used. These are all borrowed from official Marvel media.

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Spider-Man

Peter Benjamin Parker

New York City, New York; present-day

16-18 years old

5′10″ (1.78 m)

160 lbs (72.57 kg)

Eyes: brown

Hair: brown

Gender: Cis male

Orientation: Bisexual

Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and gained a suite of powers reminiscent of a spider, including agility, wall-crawling, and the ability to sense danger. When Peter learned that his beloved Uncle Ben had been murdered by a thief that Peter himself had selfishly allowed to escape, he realized that with his new powers also came a responsibility to use them for good. Since that day, Spider-Man has fought criminals while enduring a constant barrage of negative press, a stream of personal losses, and the occasional crisis of confidence. Somehow he manages to maintain a positive attitude and rarely lacks for a humorous quip when battling bad guys.

PERSONALITY:

-Peter is a geeky, shy, socially awkward, high-spirited, caring, and friendly teenage boy who is loyal to his family and friends. While his heroics as Spider-Man have given him a reputation for being a flake, Peter will always be there for anyone that needs help.

-Since the death of his beloved Uncle Ben, Peter's vow of responsibility has led him on a path of heroism and humanitarianism. He regularly sacrifices (or sabotages) his personal well-being for the greater good. It has also meant that Peter often takes on more burdens than he can bear and blames himself unnecessarily when the city is hurt.

-He possesses an innate scientific curiosity and loves to figure out how things work. He has been known to immerse himself in personal projects for hours on end, forgetting to eat and sleep as a result.

-Though it can be difficult for him to open up with new people, he becomes enthusiastic and talkative when asked about his favorite subjects (i.e. science, photography, TTRPGs, the New York Mets).

-Peter has a tendency to use humor and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, a trait that is amplified when he fights criminals as Spider-Man. He is proud of his humor, deploying it to break tensions and lift the mood, something that has at times irritated his friends and allies.

-Peter also has a bit of a vengeful side—he once secretly used his powers to humiliate his bullies and was single-minded in his pursuit of revenge for his uncle’s death. If Peter's trust is betrayed, it can be difficult to get back in his good graces.

-His humility often teeters on the edge of self-loathing, to the point of considering himself lamer than his counterparts. These feelings also extend to his romantic relationships—Peter is often blind to his crush’s reciprocated feelings simply because he doesn’t believe they could ever be reciprocated. According to Peter, he always falls for people who are "way out of his league."

-Behind his naturally upbeat demeanor, Peter possesses a tragic and depressed side. This is brought on by the immense guilt he feels about the deaths of people he held close: Ben Parker and Gwen Stacy, his first girlfriend.

POWERS & ABILITIES:

Spider Physiology: Peter Parker possesses the proportionate powers of a spider, granted to him by the bite of an irradiated spider.

Superhuman Strength: Peter can lift up to 10 tons. His physical strength also extends into his legs, enabling him to jump to a height of several stories in a single bound.

Superhuman Speed: Peter possesses the proportionate speed of a spider; therefore, he can run and move at speeds that are beyond the physical limits of the finest human athlete.

Superhuman Stamina: Spider-Man's advanced musculature produces fewer fatigue toxins during physical activity than an ordinary human. This allows him to exert himself physically for much longer periods of time before fatigue begins to impair him.

Superhuman Durability: Peter’s body is physically tougher and more resistant to some types of injury than the body of a normal human. He has shown little to no discomfort when sustaining great impact forces.

Superhuman Agility: Spider-Man's superhuman agility, balance, and bodily coordination are all enhanced to levels that are far beyond the natural physical limits of the finest human athlete. Spider-Man is extraordinarily limber, and his tendons and connective tissues are twice as elastic as the average human being's. He has the combined agility and acrobatic prowess of the most accomplished circus aerialists and acrobats. He can also perform any complicated sequence of gymnastic stunts, such as flips, rolls, and springs.

Superhuman Equilibrium: Peter possesses the ability to achieve a state of perfect equilibrium in any position imaginable. He seems able to adjust his position by instinct, which enables him to balance himself on virtually any object, no matter how small or narrow.

Superhuman Reflexes: Spider-Man's reflexes are similarly enhanced and are currently about 20 times greater than those of an ordinary human. In combination with his spider-sense, the speed of his reflexes allows him to dodge almost any attack.

Wallcrawling: Peter can cling to any surface using just his fingertips and feet.

Spider-Sense: Spider-Man possesses a precognitive danger sense that warns him of potential or immediate danger through the manifestation of a tingling sensation in the back of his skull, and links with his superhuman kinesthetics, enabling him to evade most attacks unless he cognitively overrides his automatic reflexes.

Regeneration: Spider-Man is able to rapidly heal and regenerate from harm faster and more extensively than normal humans are capable of.

Web-Shooters: Spider-Man's trademark equipment. With his brilliance in physical science, Peter created these devices to fire thin strands of a special web fluid at high pressure and speeds. These enable him to web-swing between buildings and entrap enemies.

Web fluid: Created by Peter Parker. A shear-thinning liquid (virtually solid until a shearing force is applied to it, rendering it fluid) whose exact formula is unknown but is related to nylon. On contact with air, the long-chain polymer knits and forms an extremely tough, flexible fiber with extraordinary adhesive properties.

Specialized Web Cartridges

-Acid Webbing: Webbing laced with hydrochloric acid. -Taser Webbing -Impact Webbing: Web-pellets that, upon impact, release tendrils that ensnare the target.

Spider-Tracers: Small, electronic tracers that allow Spider-Man to track objects or individuals. Typically, he plants or throws one on a departing enemy, but he can also use a launching device in his web-shooters for better range and accuracy. Spider-Man can follow the signal within a 100-yard radius by using his spider-sense.

Genius-Level Intellect: Peter Parker possesses a natural talent for science, standing out as a top student in his high school. His favorite subjects are biology, physics, and chemistry. A prodigy biochemist, Peter could understand his father's, Dr. Richard Parker’s, research notes at age 15.

Expert Inventor/Engineer: As a teenager, he developed his signature web formula, Web-Shooters, and the Spider-Tracers.

Budding Photographer: Peter is a talented photographer and has worked part-time for the Daily Bugle.

Skilled Acrobat: Due to his superhuman physical abilities, Peter easily surpasses normal acrobats and is able to perform somersaults, flips, spins, cartwheels, etc.

Hand-to-Hand Combatant: Spider-Man's fighting style incorporates and takes full advantage of his proper use of physical forces, momentum, and leverage, with the hero staying low and mobile while utilizing the momentum of frequent spins to come crashing down on his opponents. Peter has stated that he is self-taught, having learned many of his fighting techniques from movies and lucha libre.

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Spider-Man (Miles Morales)

Miles Gonzalo Morales

New York City, New York; present-day

16-18 years old

5′8″ (1.73 m)

160 lbs (72.57 kg)

Eyes: brown

Hair: black

Gender: Cis male

Orientation: Heterosexual

Miles Morales, a fellow student of Peter Parker, was bitten by a genetically altered spider that his uncle had stolen from Osborn Industries. The next day at school, he found that he had grown taller overnight and gained incredible, arachnid-like powers. Donning a similar costume, Miles became a budding superhero with the original Spider-Man as his mentor. Miles was the first person Spider-Man revealed his identity to, and they have become the closest of friends. Miles considers Peter a great hero, but can he live up to the legacy set before him?

PERSONALITY:

-Miles is a passionate, bright, confident, selfless, and extremely eager young man.

-Miles' dedication to helping others stems from his deep respect for his father, Officer Jefferson Morales, and his admiration of Peter Parker as Spider-Man. He draws his passion for science from his mother, Rio, who is highly regarded for her boundless dedication to being a nurse. Moreover, being a long-time fan of Spider-Man, Miles aspires to uphold his mentor and friend’s legacy while also forging his own path.

-Like average Spider-Men, he has an irreverent attitude towards villains, although when enemies indicate psychological instability, Miles addresses them respectfully to prevent further danger.

-He has a strong love for science, having started inventing at an early age, as well as a passion for music, mixing hip-hop beats with his uncle during his early years.

-He is much more sociable than Peter Parker, and often initiates conversations with strangers in his neighborhood.

-Miles instantly fell for Gwen Stacy upon their first meeting. They’ve since become the best of friends, though a part of Miles still pines for her romantically.

-His relationship with his Uncle Aaron is complex; while Miles acknowledges Aaron's inherent goodness, he also grapples with his uncle's shadowy past as the Prowler and their differing views on heroism.

-Miles' eagerness to be a hero is both a strength and weakness; it propels his desire to grow and assist others, but it also makes him prone to danger and reluctant to accept help. Additionally, he has been known to act impulsively on occasion. Miles also dislikes being a victim or receiving pity.

-He initially displayed panic and insecurity due to struggling to handle even basic spider powers, and he felt unworthy of the Spider-Man mantle. When it is up to him to save the city on his own, Miles occasionally has doubts about his capabilities, often comparing himself to Peter.

-Miles' intellect and love for others can cloud his judgment. At times, he can be too arrogant to listen to those who might know better

POWERS & ABILITIES:

Spider Physiology: Miles Morales gained the proportionate abilities of a spider after being bitten by a genetically-modified spider.

Superhuman Strength: Miles can lift roughly 10 tons.

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Stamina

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Agility: Miles' agility, balance, flexibility, and bodily coordination are all enhanced to levels that are far beyond the natural physical limits of an Olympic-level gymnast.

Superhuman Equilibrium

Superhuman Reflexes

Wallcrawling

Spider-Sense: When danger is present, Miles feels a buzzing sensation in his head as a sort of early warning system, allowing him to react accordingly. His spider-sense offers him near-complete awareness of his surroundings and, in conjunction with his reflexes, allows him to instinctively dodge or counter nearly all attacks.

Bio-Electrokinesis: Miles is able to generate and manipulate a form of bio-electricity that his body produces and can utilize the energy for multiple purposes. Miles has learned to discharge the energy from his hands in controlled bursts of what he calls "Venom Blasts".

-Mega Venom Blast: Arguably Miles' deadliest ability. Miles is able to emit a larger scale burst of bio-electricity from his entire body. It is powerful enough to repel a large group of opponents and destroy sturdy restraints. This ability leaves Miles exhausted after using it, and can be triggered with focus or by extreme stress. -Venom Beam: Miles has shown that he can channel his bio-electricity outward as a direct burst of electrostatic energy to knock away enemies in a stunning/concussive manner. -Venom Punch: Miles can enhance the power of his punches by infusing his fists with bio-electricity. -Lateral Repulsion: By projecting a controlled Venom Blast, Miles is able to launch himself in the air with greater force than when jumping or web-swinging.

Camouflage: Miles, including his clothing, can blend into his surroundings, allowing him to sneak up on his enemies or, in some cases, flee from them. The resulting effect closely resembles that of invisibility.

Regeneration

Web-Shooters

Bilingualism: Miles speaks English and Spanish.

Gifted Intellect: A fast learner from a young age, Miles is a highly gifted individual with an aptitude for science. He attends the Robotics Club at school and has experience in programming applications. Upon discovering his bio-electric powers, he demonstrated an impressive understanding of biophysics, throwing out possible explanations for this new power, such as electrolytes. At the start of his superhero career, he was able to mimic the original Spider-Man's fighting style by watching online videos to improve his own abilities.

Photographic memory

Skilled Acrobat

Hand-to-Hand Combatant: Despite his lack of formal training prior to his spider-bite, Miles' enhanced agility, reflexes, and coordination made him an extraordinary melee fighter. He has developed his own unique combat style which incorporates a rudimentary form of boxing, Capoiera, and breakdancing.

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Spider-Woman

Gwendolyn "Gwen" Maxine Stacy

Alternate New York City, New York; present-day

16-18 years old

5′5″ (1.65 m)

125 lbs (56.7 kg)

Eyes: blue

Hair: blond

Gender: Trans female

Orientation: Heterosexual

Leaping from an alternate reality in which she was bitten by a radioactive spider instead of Peter Parker, Gwen Stacy learned the painful lesson that with great power must come great responsibility. At first, Gwen used her new powers for selfish reasons, reveling in the attention it brought her. Meanwhile, her friend, the bullied Peter Parker, turned himself into a lizard monster because he was desperate to be special like her. Gwen inadvertently killed Peter during the ensuing fight, and the police blamed her for his death. Seeking redemption, she now fights crime as the amazing Spider-Woman.

PERSONALITY:

-Gwen Stacy is a spunky, sarcastic, awkward, and emotionally vulnerable teenage girl. She has a history of rejecting friendship since she can't bear to go through the pain of losing another loved one. After getting to know Miles Morales and Hobie Brown, however, she tentatively decided to give companionship a chance.

-Gwen initially put on a tough, antisocial front when she met the other Spider-People, but she has come to view the Spider-Gang as family and is fiercely protective of them.

-It can be difficult for her to look at the other Peters when they are unmasked, hence why it was initially easier for her to interact with Miles and Hobie.

-Currently, Gwen's interest in Miles is platonic, bordering on sibling affection.

-Gwen has a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, especially where her friends are concerned. On impulse, she will intervene on their behalf. With this in mind, Gwen and Peter (Spider-Man) have sworn to always watch each other's backs.

-There used to be unresolved tension between Gwen and her police officer father, George Stacy, regarding the morality of Spider-Woman’s vigilantism. Upon realizing that the vigilante he had been pursuing for years was his very own daughter, George reached out to Gwen about her problems and insecurities. Father and daughter have reconciled, and George Stacy has become Spider-Woman’s staunchest supporter.

-She is absolutely fearless in battle, but not to the point of recklessness.

-Gwen’s relationship with her bandmates has become somewhat strained since her superhero lifestyle often interferes with their gigs. That said, Gwen’s band members have made attempts at getting her to open up about her feelings and trauma.

-Gwen tends to bottle up her emotions and release them when she's playing drums, leading to her being particularly angry and distant. When dealing with people she is unsure of, she puts up fronts and walls to appear more confident and put together than she actually is.

-She hates when Noir calls her "doll."

-Her favorite band is The Smashing Pumpkins.

-Outside of music, her hobbies include skateboarding, gymnastics, and ballet.

POWERS & ABILITIES:

Spider Physiology: Gwen gained the proportionate abilities of a spider after being bitten by a radioactive spider—genetically engineered based upon the genetic template of alien spider parasites.

Superhuman Strength: Gwen can lift roughly 10 tons.

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Stamina

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Agility

Superhuman Equilibrium

Superhuman Reflexes

Spider-Sense

Wallcrawling

Regeneration

Web-Shooters: Twin devices, which she wears on her wrists, that trap moisture from the air to create a "web-fluid" that allows her to eject web ropes, nets, and globs. The Web-Shooters also enable her to web-swing between buildings. Given to Gwen by her universe’s Janet Van Dyne.

Amateur Detective: Gwen has a proclivity for analytical thinking and detective work. She is also the daughter of a police captain, thus she knows some police protocols and methods.

Skilled Fighter: Gwen is a skilled freestyle fighter. That said, she is untrained and learned most of her moves from Kung Fu movies.

Trained ballerina: Gwen trained in ballet since she was young. Her ballet training has allowed her to be incredibly precise when moving, often walking on the tips of her toes. Evidently, her ballet experience is incorporated into her fighting style.

Trained gymnast: Gwen was a member of the gymnastics team at her school; even before her radioactive spider bite, Gwen was able to hold her own body weight and possessed an athletic build similar to that of an acrobat. She incorporated her gymnastics training into her fighting style.

Trained musician: Gwen plays the drums with her band, The Mary Janes.

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Spider-Man Noir

Peter Benjamin Parker

Alternate New York City, New York; 1933 AD

Approximately 19 years old

6′1″ (1.85 m)

150 lbs (68.04 kg)

Eyes: brown

Hair: brown

Gender: Cis male

Orientation: Bisexual or Demisexual (still figuring it out)

In another New York, in the year 1933, Norman Osborn murdered Ben Parker for encouraging a strike on the local sweatshops. Seeking justice for his uncle, Peter Parker became an investigative journalist in an attempt to expose the corruption in New York. One evening, Peter was investigating a warehouse where Osborn's henchmen were housing stolen artifacts. An ancient spider statue broke open and released a swarm of spiders, one of which bit Peter. He passed out and dreamed of a spider god who told him it would bestow the curse of power on him. When Peter came to, he discovered that he had been gifted with arachnid-like superpowers. Thus, Peter became the Spider-Man: a dark avenger fighting for the rights of the downtrodden and waging a one-man war on crime.

PERSONALITY:

-Noir Peter Parker is an unwavering, righteous, sympathetic, brooding, solitary young man of few words.

-Peter grew up witnessing injustice in the harsh environment of the Great Depression. This, combined with his Uncle Ben’s horror stories about the First World War, made Peter distrustful of would-be leaders and political figures. He’s leery of police officers; in his world and time period, especially, police corruption is rampant.

-Unlike most Spider-Men, Noir Peter was never taught the motto "With great power, there must also come great responsibility." Instead, his Uncle Ben told him, "If those in power can’t be trusted, it’s the responsibility of the people to remove them."

-Peter’s jaded demeanor and bleak realism belie his indomitable will and inherent idealism. He will never stop fighting for truth and progress, no matter the personal cost.

-Peter is a devout socialist and liberal activist, often participating in protests for workers’ rights, racial equality, and standing against the rising tide of Nazism.

-Peter is an empiricist—he believes his eyes, no matter how implausible something may be. Ever since his encounter with the Spider-God, he has gradually come to accept that some things are never going to have an explanation.

-Unlike the other Spider-People, Peter is willing to kill his enemies if absolutely necessary.

-Peter struggles with trauma and depression, perhaps more than his counterparts. To cope and better do his job, he closes off his emotions and ignores his bodily needs.

-Peter smokes cigarettes, even though he has been warned that they cause cancer. The nicotine helps calm his nerves, and he doubts that he’s capable of contracting cancer due to his powers.

-Peter puts on a convincing, deeper voice to make himself seem older. The rest of the Spider-Gang was dumbstruck when they learned he wasn’t much older than them.

POWERS & ABILITIES:

Superhuman Abilities: Peter possesses enhanced physical abilities granted to him by the Spider-God.

Superhuman Strength: Slightly inferior to that of his mainstream counterpart.

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Stamina

Superhuman Durability: Although he is incredibly durable, his body does have its limits—unlike his modern counterparts, he cannot sustain multiple injuries and continue to function.

Superhuman Agility

Superhuman Equilibrium

Spider-Sense

Wall-Crawling: He can stick to walls using just his fingertips and feet; however, Peter prefers a type of parkour over clinging to the walls themselves.

Organic Webbing: Spider-Man is able to shoot organic black webbing out of his wrists. However, he cannot generate webbing in a constant stream (like his more modern counterparts) and is therefore unable to travel via swinging on webs.

Night Vision

Regeneration: Slightly superior to that of his mainstream counterpart.

Pain Resistance: Ever since he was bitten, Peter no longer feels physical pain as potently as an average human.

Gifted Intellect: Peter is of above-average intelligence and possesses a natural talent for science.

Experienced Reporter: Peter is a gifted investigative reporter and very skilled photographer.

Investigator: Honing his talents as an investigative reporter, Peter has become experienced in detective work and research.

Hand-to-Hand Combatant: He is formidable in hand-to-hand combat, having received boxing training from the Daredevil of his universe.

Skilled Marksman: Peter is adept in the use of and has impeccable aim with firearms; more often than not, he is able to hit his targets accurately.

Weapons: Peter has been known to carry revolvers and incendiary grenades.

Glasses: Unlike other Spider-People, after receiving his powers, Peter still requires corrective lenses to see properly.

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Spider-Punk

Hobart "Hobie" Brown

Alternate London, United Kingdom; c. 1977-early 80s

Approximately 19 years old

5′11″ (1.8 m)

150 lbs (68.04 kg)

Eyes: brown

Hair: black

Gender: Cis male

Orientation: Pansexual

In an alternate London, foul-mouthed teenager Hobart Brown was living as a squatter in a United Kingdom ruled by the fascist regime of Prime Minister "Ozzy" Osborn. He was bitten by a spider irradiated by illegal waste dumping, which gave him spider superpowers. With his newfound powers, Hobie became a punk-rock-inspired Spider-Man and led the oppressed people of London in a revolt against Osborn and his storm troopers. Spider-Punk is defined by his rebellious attitude towards absolutely everything, and will take any opportunity to turn on an establishment, regardless of the consequences.

PERSONALITY:

-Hobie is a zealous, headstrong, brazen, uncompromising, and altruistic young man.

-Although he pretends to be an apathetic badass, Hobie clearly has a deep connection to his team and a surprising amount of respect for Spider-Man Noir.

-He is surprisingly good with children.

-Hobie is an extremely devout anarchist who chafes at all forms of authority. Whenever he is given orders, Hobie makes it clear that he’s only going along with them because he wants to. Put simply, Hobie fights evil on his own terms.

-Hobie lives by two rules: No Gods. No Masters. He hates the rich, authorities, and politicians.

-Hobie takes the Spider-Man staple of flippancy to a whole new level—oftentimes, he doesn’t even attempt to be clever with his quips, instead throwing out the harshest insults he can come up with.

-As a musician and activist, he integrates anti-authority messages into his performances. He frequently encourages (and joins) mosh pits among the audience. Such acts are deemed illegal in his home universe… not that he cares.

-Hobie is a terrible singer, but he argues that’s what punk rock is all about.

-With the plethora of questionable decisions he’s made just to survive, Hobie does not consider himself a role model, let alone a hero. Despite this, he still has high praise for himself and tries to project an aura of "cool."

-Hobie's boots are ladder laced. In punk culture, ladder lacing with colored laces is a way to discreetly express your beliefs. Hobie's laces are blue, which means the wearer has killed a police officer. Though Hobie remains unwilling to divulge many aspects of his life, he has mentioned that he was once betrayed by a police officer…

-Hobie enjoys playing with people’s gender expectations and dresses as androgynously as possible. He believes that it is impossible to separate punk history from queer history.

POWERS & ABILITIES:

Spider Physiology: After being bitten by a spider irradiated by illegal waste dumping, Hobart obtained the proportionate powers of a spider.

Superhuman Strength: Hobie can lift at least one ton.

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Stamina

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Agility

Superhuman Equilibrium

Superhuman Reflexes

Spider-Sense

Wallcrawling

Regeneration

Web-Shooters

Modified guitar: An instrument that can emit a large shockwave attack similar to Miles Morales’ "venom power". In addition, the guitar can play frequencies strong enough to cause electronic equipment to malfunction.

Cricket bat: A simple yet effective wooden bat inscribed with "Beat on the Brat," a Ramones lyric.

Engineer: Hobart is a tech genius, able to create his Web-Shooters and a functional dimension-hopping watch after studying the properties of Peni Parker’s teleportation device. He was also able to engineer his guitar into a weapon.

Skilled Acrobat: Spider-Punk is able to perform acrobatic and gymnastic moves, such as high jumps, somersaults, flips, etc. at a level far beyond the ability of normal humans.

Hand-to-Hand Combatant: Hobie has years of street fighting experience. He utilizes techniques that enable him to make full use of his speed, agility, and strength. However, he lacks any formal training.

Musician: Hobie is a talented musician and plays both guitar and drums.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️

SP//dr

Peni Parker

Futuristic New York City, New York; 3145 AD

9-13 years old

4′11″ (1.5 m), 9′ (2.74 m) (in armor)

105 lbs (47.63 kg), 900 lbs (408.23 kg) (in armor)

Eyes: brown

Hair: black

Gender: Cis female

Orientation: Asexual

In an alternate Japan, in the year 3145, Peni Parker was born the only daughter of Dr. Richard Parker. When she was 9 years old, her father passed away piloting the SP//dr suit. She would be adopted by her Aunt May and Uncle Ben in New York, and they informed her that she was the last person able to bond with the radioactive spider that controlled Richard’s bionic armor. Peni accepted this responsibility, allowed the radioactive spider to bite her, and repaired the mech suit. Now known as SP//dr, Peni protects her futuristic neighborhood with her new best spider-friend and a powerful robotic suit!

PERSONALITY:

-Peni is a peppy, energetic, optimistic, intelligent, tough, and somewhat smug girl.

-Peni’s bubbly nature is infectious, and she loves making new friends. She quite literally views the Spider-Gang as her family, even addressing them as onii-chan (big brother) and onee-chan (big sister) respectively. Likewise, she cherishes her bond with the SP//dr spider more than anything—in many ways, it’s her last connection to her father.

-A generally happy-go-lucky person, it is rare to see her sad or discouraged. That said, if grief or anxiety do strike, her productivity takes a sharp decline. She is a very emotional person, and her friends’ struggles affect her profoundly.

-Peni is a responsible and dedicated individual; she has devoted countless hours to her studies and working on her father's suit. That said, she can be a tad arrogant where her work is concerned, and bristles at outside input or assistance. It can be difficult to get Peni to accept technological help or admit when she’s made a mistake.

-Peni is proud of her intellect to an almost vain degree. She unconsciously comes off as condescending when explaining her technology to others, especially Spider-Man Noir (even though he can easily pick up how modern tech works).

-In battle, she is ruthless, aggressive, and devastatingly analytical.

-She has a habit of striking magical girl or idol singer poses.

-Peni is a vegetarian but isn’t preachy about it.

-Peni has an ultra-secret candy stash hidden… somewhere.

-Her hobbies include J-pop and manga (she’s recently gotten into Boys’ and Girls’ Love).

POWERS & ABILITIES:

Genius-Level Intellect: Peni Parker is extremely intelligent, mostly regarding her exceptional scientific, engineering, and hacking skills.

Scientist: A wunderkind prodigy, she is remarkably skilled and knowledgeable in a wide range of scientific fields.

Engineer: Peni takes great pride in her engineering intelligence, which has enabled her to create upgrades for her SP//dr armor and even invent an inter-dimensional teleportation device.

Expert Hacker

SP//dr Suit Mk III: A psychically-powered mech suit created by Peni’s father. The SP//dr suit is genetically linked to her, so only Peni may use it. The suit uses magnetically manipulated appendages for versatility, wall-crawling, and enhanced strength, and it can shoot lasers from its fingers and weld various metals. Additionally, wrist-mounted web shooters built into the SP//dr suit allow it to web-swing between buildings and entrap enemies. The suit is shielded against radiation, biological, chemical, corrosive, and electrical attacks. In the cockpit, there is an on-board computer operating system that aids Peni in accessing the internet, providing background information, and connecting with (or hacking into) other devices. The inside also has a snack compartment.

Bilingualism: Peni speaks Japanese and English.

Expert pilot: Peni’s piloting abilities have advanced to the point where the SP//dr suit feels like an extension of her body.

Psychic link: Peni allowed herself to be bitten by the SP//dr spider—a radioactive, sentient spider (whom she refers to as her best friend) acting as one half of the CPU that makes the SP//dr suit work. Beyond piloting the suit, the spider shares thoughts and emotions with Peni.

Spider-Sense: Through her psychic connection, Peni possesses a precognitive "spider" sense that warns her of potential immediate danger.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️

#incorrect spiderverse #the story #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Miles Morales #Spider-Gwen #Gwen Stacy #Spider-Man Noir #Noir #Spider-Punk #Hobie Brown #Peni Parker #character sheet #kinda #headcanon #Marvel #no ai art used

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whatswrongwithblue · 3 months

Text

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 11 - Stitches

Word count: 8,912. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Mina and Alastor FINALLY talk . . . sort of. And then fuck. TWs: canon typical violence and language, recreational drug use, mentions of a past abortion, panic attack, brief self harm, p & v sex, creampie, very brief use of tentacles. Smutty, but still pretty vanilla fluffy lovey dovey sex.

This lovely artwork was done by @ver0xinart and used here with permission. Please follow them for really unique and wonderful Alastor fanart!

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 11 - Stitches

Present Day

Mina’s friend had been waiting for her.

Fae was much younger than her and, in most ways, the complete opposite of Mina. Fae had died in the 1980’s, spent her entire life in New York City, was extroverted, loved being around people and partying, posted everything on social media, dressed in brightly colored scandalous clothes, and went through lovers as often as she changed her hair color, which was near weekly.

Despite these differences, they had gotten along well when they had first met. When Mina confessed to Fae that she was struggling with the symptoms of her heat cycles without Alastor around to help her through them, Fae had introduced her to the variety of dance clubs Pentagram City had to offer.

Mina had been skeptical at first and made it clear that any sex themed danced clubs were not an option – her husband was missing but not dead and she still considered herself monogamously married. Besides, large crowds gyrating around to loud emotionless sound that passed for “music” had never been the kind of thing Mina approved of. But once she had tried it, it quickly became one of her favorite ways to release the energy that was pent up inside her.

It wasn’t just sex her body craved when she was in heat. She was always so wound tight, irritable, and overstimulated by everything. And the music in the clubs overpowered all of that. She could feel it reverberating through her, pounding in her chest, pushing out all thought, and guiding her to move in mindless, energetic ways. It was addicting.

And if other dancers dared to try and touch her, it was just an excuse for her to be violent, which helped sate her needs even more. They’d leave without a hand, or an entire limb, depending on how aggressive they had been and how much bloodlust she was feeling. One time someone with a few extra hands managed to grab both her and Fae’s ass at the same time, and they had danced under his dripping, decapitated head.

After all, it wasn’t just their job descriptions that gave Abaddon’s demons their reputation for brutality. And Mina had to remind people that although the Radio Demon wasn’t around anymore, it was still in everyone’s best interest to leave her the hell alone.

That night, Fae listened as Mina filled her in on what had transpired that day, and the awful argument she and Alastor had just had. Then Fae took her to a dance club they hadn’t gone to in a while, one they were less likely to be recognized at, and therefore more likely to catfish some demons into harassing them. So they danced, and maimed, and danced some more.

Hours later, they played innocent as they left the club, allowing themselves to be followed. Fae was even better bait than Mina, with her shorter stature, purple afro dyed to match her wings, pink skin, and lime green sequined dress. Only her sharp teeth and jet-black eyes looked remotely demonic, otherwise you might think she was a harmless little wood nymph straight out of a fairy tale.

She and Mina tore their would-be rapists apart and didn’t make quick work of it.

At the end of the evening, with dawn approaching, the two blood splattered women shared a joint on a rooftop ledge, letting their bare feet dangle over the sides, their shoes discarded behind them.

“You know what the most insulting part is?” Mina asked as she passed the joint back, “it really was the sex that was keeping me quiet. The minute I go into heat - and he’s not around – I figure it out. And he knew that was going to happen, that’s why he’s been on top of me so much lately.”

“That just sounds like a guy,” Fae choked out a smoke-filled laugh. “I mean . . . you said you were sure he wasn’t having an affair, so it was seven years for him, too.”

“Alastor’s different,” Mina said, not defensively. It was just the truth.

“Please girl, everyone woman says that about her man.”

“No, he . . . I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Sex is just . . . not important to him.”

“Come again?”

Mina sighed. It really was hard to explain.

“I mean, it is and it isn’t. The . . . mood has to be just right for him. If he’s mad, or even agitated, or if I even remotely hint that I might not be enthusiastically ready myself, he is just . . . not interested. I’m sorry,” Mina said, hanging her head and laughing a little. “I think I’m too stoned to be explaining this.”

“But didn’t you just say he was giving it to you like . . . all the time lately?” Fae asked. “What, did you guys not have sex before?”

“Of course we did!”

Fae raised an eyebrow, obviously confused.

“He . . . I mean, we-“ Mina let out an exasperated breath, “Okay, I didn’t have sex for a long time after I died. But that’s because honestly, it was never all that good and after you’ve had to kill all of your exes, it kind of puts you off men. But I still wanted it. But Alastor had two short-lived relationships when he was young and then spent the last ten years of his life a bachelor and when he came to Hell, it was like he had never even considered romance until well after he met me. The man just doesn’t think about sex like the rest of us do. He likes it. And he’s really good at it, believe me. But it’s not a priority for him. So when I say, it was out of character for him to be wanting it almost every day, I really mean that.”

Fae blinked at her for a moment, considering.

“Is he ace?” she asked.

“What?” Mina asked in return, thinking she misheard her.

Fae busted out laughing.

“Oh my God, are you telling me the great Radio Demon is acespec?! Man looks like a walking freak in the sheets!”

Mina just stared at her, not understanding half the terminology she was saying.

“He’s ace!” Fae cackled again.

“Repeating it is not going to help me understand you any better,” Mina responded, annoyed.

“Asexual. Graysexual. Demisexual. None of those words mean anything to you?”

“Fae . . . what the hell are you talking about?”

“Girl, you old as fuck. Okay,” Fae sucked in a breath, controlling her laughter. “You should really Google it but, Alastor doesn’t want sex unless he feels a super strong emotional connection, is that what you’re saying? And even with you, he has to be like . . . really happy and feeling it,” she said, with a saucy role of her shoulders that made Mina blush.

“Yes . . .” Mina answered, a little upset that Fae described him better than Mina had been able to.

“And after an initial rough couple of weeks, you two were getting along better - once you stopped having to secretly run off to go to work and pissing him off – and you stopped picking arguments as much - and then suddenly he’s all mister love machine?”

“Yes . . .” Mina repeated.

“You dumb bitch!” Fae smacked her in the arm. “He wasn’t ‘manipulating’ you, he was just happy. You,” she said, stabbing her with a pointed finger where she had smacked her, “were making him happy. After seven years apart, you really think he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him?”

Mina scowled and looked down at the street below them. She hated how much Fae was making sense, even without her friend knowing a lot more intimate details about her husband that she was purposefully leaving out of the conversation.

“Asexual,” she said, trying out the word. “I thought he was just a psychopath.”

“Oh, he’s also that, for sure.”

She knew he was a rare breed of serial killer, one guided by a dark and strange moral compass, rather than a deviant sexual appetite. It would never have occurred to her that there were others out there that shared this label with him. Now she felt awful for not having figured this out herself after a lifetime of marriage when Fae grasped the concept immediately.

Of course Alastor hadn’t been using sex against her, that had never been his style. He would have been appalled if he knew she had thought that of him. Mina really had let her thoughts spiral completely out of control that morning.

Regardless, she was not the one with the most blame on her shoulders.

“He still sold his soul,” she mumbled.

“Okay, well honestly, only you are surprised at that one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, be pissed that he kept it a secret. You can murder the man for up and dumping your ass for seven years and walking back into your life like ‘hey honey, I’m home’ but the deal making? You married a deal maker. You either gotta own that or leave his ass, but don’t act surprised about it.”

Mina yanked the joint from Fae’s hand and took a long drag.

“He’s the deal maker. He takes peoples souls, that’s why he’s an Overlord.”

“Oh come on, even you’ve had to have heard the rumors about why he’s so powerful.”

“They’re just stupid rumors,” Mina huffed.

Of course she had heard them. Whispers that he had sold his soul while he was still alive. Whispers that he was just the instrument of something much more powerful. There were even more ridiculous ones. He’s a fallen angel. He’s half-Eldritch. He’s an entirely unknown entity all together. She’d heard it all and knew it was all bullshit.

“Obviously not,” Fae countered. “You know now he’s got a chain around him same as most sorry bastards down here do. What you don’t know is who’s on the other end of that chain and how long they’ve had hold of it.”

“He was supposed to be better than this,” Mina said, feeling her eyes begin to burn. She took another drag, breathing in until she felt the threat of tears dissipating.

“You’ve been looking at him with rose colored glasses on for too long, babe.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “I know exactly how awful he can be.”

“No, you don’t,” Fae said firmly. “You think you see Alastor and The Radio Demon as one and the same, but you really don’t. You see ‘Alastor’, your devoted, loving husband. And he is that. But when he’s all big and scary and doing his evil shit, you’re into it! And hey, not blaming you. The man is a walking thirst trap. What you aren’t seeing, is what the rest of Hell sees. A cold and calculating son of bitch who wants power, and attention for that power, above all else. And he is incredibly arrogant. It makes a whole lotta sense that he made a deal a long time ago – maybe even more than one - in order to get the kind of power he has and he’s just recently started to face the repercussions of that deal. And he honestly never even considered that it would jeopardize your relationship. He might love you, but he’s a narcissist. It’s going to take a whole lot more than a bit of anger from you for him to get the idea that you’ll never get over this. He’s so overly confident in how much you love him, he’s sure he can get away with anything with you, if he just gives you enough time to get over it.”

Mina was shaking her head. “I’ve loved him for 70 years. I know him better than anyone, you think I don’t know all the worst parts of him? I know how self-absorbed he can be and I know all the gory details of the awful things he’s done to others. I’ve helped him do some of it! I still never saw this coming.”

Fae stood up, exasperated now. “You are too close to him to see it. Mina, I love you girl, but we just killed like five guys tonight. And it was awesome. I was having some girl time with my bestie. I look at you like you’re this sweet, bookish, kind-of-awkward nerd who’s got some man issues and needs to blow off steam. The rest of Hell sees you as a stone-cold murderess bitch who hides in whatever fortress you’ve chosen for the decade and only comes out when you feel like eating someone.”

“How many times are you going to call me a bitch tonight?”

Fae clapped her hands together in front of Mina’s face. “You are both those things. Doesn’t mean you are two faced or faking it or whatever. It means you’re fucked up, but it also just means that your perception of people changes when you get closer to them because sometimes, you’re too close to see the whole picture. You get me?”

She did. But it didn’t make her feel any better about the state of things, it just made her feel worse. It didn’t change the fact that Alastor was still keeping her in the dark about everything.

“So, you’re saying I should just forgive him? Because I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Hell no!” Fae said. “You need to tell him in no uncertain terms that he’s gotta come clean to you about everything. Deal or no deal, you deserve to know. The only thing I’m saying is, if he does that, then you gotta really be prepared to forgive him.”

Was she?

She would still be angry. She would still feel betrayed. And the sting of seven years alone wouldn’t go away overnight. But she would certainly be a lot more willing to keep trying.

“And if he still doesn’t tell me anything?” Mina asked.

Fae handed her the joint, now just a stub, and waited for her to take the last drag.

“That’s for you to ask yourself, babes. I can’t answer that for you.”

Mina flicked away the joint and watched it tumble through the air, then she stood up, and put on her shoes.

“I have to know. Even worst-case scenario, I have to know. And I’ll promise him, that no matter how awful the truth is, I’ll stay and try to work through it. But if he doesn’t . . . then I’ll leave him,” Mina said.

She had lived for decades in Hell and done well for herself before him. And even when she was completely shattered and driven nearly insane by his disappearance, she got through it. It would hurt to learn how to live without him again. . . but she could do it. He had already forced her to face that challenge and she had come out the other side.

“Can you do it?” Fae asked, as if she could read Mina’s thoughts.

Mina recalled the last time she had made an impossible decision.

She remembered the sickness and the cramping that came hours after drinking the poison, and then the horrible gory mess of blood and tissue that came from her body weeks later. Alone, on the floor of her room on the ship to America, everyone assuming she was just seasick and leaving her be, as her body finally expelled her aborted child from her. The tiny, shapeless, barely formed infant she had held in her hands and sobbed over, before wrapping the whole mess up in her bed sheets and tossing it all overboard.

Mina shook off the memories and looked at Fae, trying every bit to be the “stone-cold bitch” she was apparently viewed as.

“I’ve had to hurt myself worse than this to survive before. I can do it again.”

____

It was daylight by the time Mina returned to the hotel and rather than raise any more suspicions with the other staff and residents, she forwent her ability to portal and chose to simply walk through the front doors. She would already have to come clean to Alastor about her job after she had used a portal in front of him, but it was still best not to let Charlie in on her secret just yet.

She glanced up at the radio tower as she approached the hotel. Alastor was up there, watching her; she was sure of it. And he would be furious.

Mina braced herself, not quite ready for the storm she was walking into, and lied to herself that she would not let him get under her skin and ruin the calm and determined emotional control she had built up on her journey home.

Seconds after she walked through the door, she was accosted by a taller blonde woman.

“Mina!” Charlie yelled as she threw herself around her, wrapping her in a tight hug. “You came back!”

Mina sighed and returned the hug. It was . . . nice, having someone just be relieved she was okay. Charlie could be annoying at times, but her genuine sweet nature was charming.

“Of course I did,” she said, and then wriggled free from the embrace. “What did Alastor tell you?”

She looked around the room. Everyone was already up and about. It looked like Mina had walked into another bonding activity and there were pages full of handwritten scribbles scattered all around the coffee table and bar.

“Honestly, not very much. He was up in his tower all night. What happened to you?” Charlie gasped, taking in the blood splatters that had dried in her hair and across her clothes.

“Not a drop of it is mine,” Mina said with an assuring wink. “It may not count for redemption, but I might have traumatized a few Sinners into behaving better.”

“Oh . . . well,” Charlie said, searching for the words. “That’s good . . . I guess? Anyway! We’re discussing boundaries this morning and I have a lot of apologies to make so if you would have a seat-“

“No, love. I need a shower, and a nap, and then I need to talk to Alastor. Perhaps later,” Mina said and began to walk away.

Charlie grabbed her hand and tried to pull her towards the group.

“But we already lost all of yesterday! Please, Mina, this is really important!”

Mina yanked her hand free, then took a breath, trying to remain calm. Charlie did not deserve her anger.

“Listen, dearest, I am here to help you in whatever way I can. Really. But I am not here for redemption for myself and I need . . . what is the term used these days? . . . A ‘mental health day.’ So please, excuse me.”

Mina went to turn around but stopped short as Alastor materialized on the other side of Charlie.

“If Charlie is hosting an activity on apologies, my dear, then I think it prudent that you of all people attend the day’s festivities,” he said, his hands placed atop his microphone, and his brilliant, lying smile dominating his features.

“Don’t you start,” Mina warned. “You are at the bottom of the itinerary I just listed and believe me, you want to stay there.”

Alastor couldn’t hide the scowl that narrowed his eyes.

“Or what, darling? You’ll act like a child not getting what they want and take off again?”

“You have no room to talk!” Mina shouted.

“Okay, so this is a great start, but I think we should lower our voices-“ Charlie started but Vaggie took her hand and pulled her out from between the two arguing spouses.

“Not right now, babe,” Vaggie said quietly.

The other residents stayed still as statues, caught between fear and enjoying the drama.

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Alastor said in a sing-song voice. “Maybe that could be the focus of Charlie’s next activity!”

“Do not stand there and pretend like you have any kind of moral pedestal to stand on! You walked out on me-“

He rolled his eyes.

“-pushed me aside when I was no longer convenient for you-“

His smile dropped just a little.

“-lied to me, kept secrets from me, betrayed me-“

Light itself seemed to flee from him as his eyes took on the red glow that always came to them when he was close to becoming unhinged.

“-you won’t even tell me what was so much more important than me, after six decades of me giving you everything. Who had something better to offer you? Or was it just new and exciting? What about me wasn’t good enough for you to even bother saying goodbye?!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

He towered over her, his body and shadow seeming to envelope the whole room, and everything went blurry. Every light went out and strange flashes of red symbols appeared on the walls, and the large matching menacing smiles on Alastor’s face and his shadow’s glowed brighter, looming above all of them.

In a second, the room had returned to its normal appearance, only without Mina or Alastor.

The other six people in the room looked around, but still, no one dared utter a sound.

After a moment of peace and quiet, there was the sound of a door slamming shut upstairs, followed by an electric surge that brightened all the lights in the lobby. A few of them burst, and the ones that didn’t began to erratically flicker.

“Should we uh . . . should we do something?” Charlie asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Nah, best to stay out of it,” Husk said.

Niffty giggled as all of the light bulbs were exchanged for rushes of green flames momentarily, and then shifted back to their normal states.

“He’s not going to hurt her, is he?” Vaggie asked.

“I’m more worried about what she’s going to do to him,” Angel said.

“Not a chance,” Husk said. “They’ll yell and carry on like this for a while, but they’d never lay a hand on each other.”

More light bulbs burst into flame and this time stayed that way, and a crack ran up the bar room wall.

“Are you ssssure about that?” Sir Pentious asked, looking nervously at the damage.

“Yeah, yeah. But uh . . .” Husk said, and the lights went out for good, leaving them all in darkness. The dim red morning light that was just able to come through the painted glass of the front doors was the only source of illumination for the entire lobby. “Maybe we should get out of here for a little while.”

“Okay, great. Let’s all go out for breakfast this morning!” Charlie said and ushered everyone out.

As everyone quickly gathered their stuff and headed out, Charlie darted back towards the lounge and grabbed Niffty by the arm, who was still standing there, giggling and staring up towards the floor above.

____

Despite the display seen down below, once they were alone in their room together, Alastor had returned to his normal appearance, but his shadow still moved from wall to wall, agitated and larger than usual. His expression was wild; eyes wide and frantic, his smile full and strained. He looked insane but no more demonic than usual.

Even if Alastor had unleashed his more terrifying forms on her, Mina wouldn’t have backed down. She was too angry and too hurt to have rational thoughts about her safety.

“You are such a fucking arse!” she screamed at him.

“You should have listened to me,” he said, deadly quiet.

“Listened to you?! I can’t listen to you if you don’t tell me a damn thing! I can’t listen to you if you aren’t here!”

“I told you to be patient. And before I left, I told you not to go back to work for that angel. I told you to stay far away from the Morningstars. And I come back to find you doing the exact opposite.”

“Abaddon is my family, Alastor. And they were here. They’ve never left me, they have always been there for me. Just because you aren’t man enough to do the same, doesn’t mean you get to be bitter that someone else treated me better than you did. Of course I went back to work for them. You left me with no one else.”

He was visibly shaking now. His fists were balled so tightly Mina was certain his claws had to be digging into the palms of his hands. Good. She hoped he bled.

“You should have trusted me,” he said.

“Why?” she asked, making her voice as calm and cold as his.

He wasn’t expecting that, and his lack of response spurred her on.

“You lost the right to my trust, Alastor. You lost the right to everything when you tossed me aside like I was nothing.”

“That is not what happened!” He was raising his voice now and that was even better. It meant he was losing.

“Then tell me what did happen, because that’s all I see. How am I supposed to trust you and listen to you when all you continue to do is hurt and humiliate me?”

“Because you are stronger than this!” he shouted. He was breathing hard now, the static crackling with nearly every inhale. When he continued, he spoke in a lower tone, but his voice was still warped. “Is seven years really so much? Compared to seventy? Compared to the infinite amount of time we have ahead of us now? Are your feelings for me really that weak?”

She gaped at him, feeling his words like a dagger at her throat.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, struggling to get the words out as her chest tightened. “You don’t get to break my heart and then judge me for how it shattered.”

Something in his features softened then but she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want his pity, she just wanted answers.

“You weren’t even looking for me when you came here!” she cried out, forcing her outrage to build up again. “How much longer would it have been if I wasn’t already at the hotel? How am I supposed to live with someone who treats me like an afterthought?”

He shook his head. “If you had listened to me . . . I had a plan. I was going to come find you, when I could tell you everything. And now we’re here and look what a mess you’ve made of things. If you had just stayed out of it-“

“You want me to leave then?” she interrupted; her jaw set tight.

“Well not now,” he said, with a dismissive tone.

“No, that’s just fine with me,” Mina said. “I’ll leave right now.”

“Don’t be dramatic, dear,” he sighed, clearly thinking she was bluffing.

“Alastor,” she said. “Tell me who you made a deal with.”

She watched him grit his teeth, his smile reduced to a thin line.

“I. Can’t.”

“When did you make it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Mina-“

“Why did you do it?” she continued, ignoring him.

“I can’t tell you!”

Her next few breaths shook in her chest, but she managed not to cry this time.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said quietly. Sadly. “I love you so much, but I just can’t. Answer my questions and I’ll stay . . . or this is it. I’ll leave.”

He looked at her in shock and she knew then Fae had been right. No part of Alastor really believed he had pushed her so far away. Mina watched as the panic grew in his face and she tried to close herself off from how much it pained her to see it.

“I swear, Mina. I swear. I have told you everything I can,” he said in a rush.

She sighed and closed her eyes in defeat, trying to block him out.

“I have been trying,” he grabbed her shoulders, begging her. “I want you to know everything. I do. I just . . . I can’t.”

“I’m not listening to this anymore,” she said.

His hands dropped from her shoulders. Defeated, he turned his back on her, shaking his head.

“Mina, please,” he begged, still turned away from her, his voice low and raspy. “I am trying to find the words.”

“Just spit it out!” she snapped and he turned on her.

“I CAN’T!”

It was like a bomb went off.

All the power he had shoved off into the far corners of the hotel rushed back into the room. The floorboards and ceiling glowed and pulsed green, the lights exploded, the windows and doors rattled in their holdings, the floor beneath them rumbled, and the walls groaned.

Despite the chaos, Mina’s whole world narrowed to Alastor’s face as she saw them for the first time; the green, luminescent stitches laced through his mouth. Forcing his smile into place.

Forcing him into silence.

And the faintest outline of a chain, transparent but the same shade of green, flickered for just a second around his neck, the links behind him trailing upwards before fading into nothing.

Mina blinked twice, trying to process, when suddenly the room returned to normal.

Alastor was seated on the edge of their bed, clutching at his hair and audibly hyperventilating.

Everything switched for Mina in those few seconds after she saw the very real, very tangible magic that was controlling him.

He hadn’t lied, not about a single thing. He had been trying to tell her everything since he got back and literally could not.

That changed everything for her.

She went to him, placing her hands over his fists that were threatening to tear out his hair. For a moment, she was confused by the way the static was affecting his harsh and rapid breathing until she realized he wasn’t just having a panic attack, he was crying. Sobbing.

Alastor was having a complete breakdown and she had pushed him to it.

“Alastor?” she said, trying to wrap her fingers around his. “My love. My heart . . .”

He was still so tall, even sitting on the edge of the bed and bent over, that his head was level with her belly. She cradled him to her, keeping her hands over his own.

“You need to let go, love,” she said softy. “You’re hurting yourself.”

He let his grip loosen from his hair but then he was just pressing his palms to his temple, still looking down at his feet.

Mina ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the shallow scratches in his scalp his claws had made, before she let her hands fall lower, caressing his cheek and cupping his jaw. She tried to get him to sit up and look at her, but he was so stiff she couldn’t budge him, so she just held him instead.

She had never seen him cry, not in all their years together. He had, on a rare occasion or two, become choked up and silent, but she had never seen him like this. Never felt his tears gather on her skin as she held his face, never heard his ragged breathing as his chest heaved with sobs.

She had done this to him. Her, and whoever had control over his soul.

Mina was no longer angry at him. She was angry for him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, using one hand to stroke the back of his head as she held him to her stomach. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know but I do now, okay? And I need you to calm down. I’m not going anywhere, I promise, so just breath for me, my love.”

“I just,” he gasped out, “want to stop smiling. For one . . . God damn . . . minute.”

Mina looked over at his shadow, which was hovering anxiously over the bed. That thing was always hard to read, even for her, but she swore she could see concern in its demonic gaze. It looked from Alastor to her, making hard eye contact with her for a moment, before seemingly deciding on something, and trailed across the wall to the door and faded through it.

Mina was sure it was standing guard outside, ensuring their privacy wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Give me your hands,” she said, reaching for them again to try and pull them away from his face. He complied finally, and she guided them until they were wrapped around her hips. Though he was still far from calm, at least she could keep him from harming himself.

“Alastor, if you can’t calm down, I’m going to sing for you. Would that be alright?” she asked. Mina was almost to the point of not waiting for a response. He could be upset with her later for using her power on him against his will, but she had to get his breathing under control now.

But after a few seconds, she heard his strained response.

“Please,” he whispered.

It had taken her some time to perfect the use of her power for pleasant things. Mina had initially only used it to harm or control others. It wasn’t until Alastor that she realized she could simply influence the emotions of others, though it had been tricky business at first. He had helped her hone that skill and now she put every ounce of her love for him behind her words as she sung.

“Why should thy cheek be pale,

Shaded with sorrow’s veil?

Why should’st thou grieve me?

I will never, never leave thee.

‘Mid my deepest sadness,

‘Mid by gayest gladness,

I am thine, believe me;

I will never, never leave thee.”

Mina felt him relax within the first line and by halfway through, he had quieted completely. She rubbed his shoulders and back, stroked his ears, and then ran her fingers gently through his hair, checking on the bloody scratches he had etched into his scalp already beginning to heal. By the end of the first verse, he was completely asleep in her arms, but she continued to hold onto him, bracing his weight against her until she felt his self-inflicted wounds fully close and her own heart began to heal as well.

___

Eventually, Mina pulled herself free of him and gently guided his unconscious form down until he was laying on the bed. She took his shoes off, placed his microphone so that it was propped against the nightstand, put his monocle on the nightstand, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then she switched off the lights and closed the curtains to keep the daylight out, leaving only the soft glow from the bayou to illuminate the room.

She took a quick shower, just to wash the dried blood from her hair and skin, trying to keep her mind blank. Once clean, she used her blow dryer on low, trying to make as little noise as possible, running it over her hair, ears, and tail, until just the longest parts of her hair were damp.

Alastor’s shadow slipped between the door and wall and briefly came up to her side before exiting, leaving Mina to wonder if it was checking on her of its own accord or if Alastor had woken and sent it in.

She threw on her black bathrobe and went back into the bedroom to see.

Indeed, she found Alastor awake again, sitting in a recliner he must have just manifested, placed in the middle of the bayou. He was smoking a pipe that smoldered with a dim green glow, his jacket off, his bowtie undone and hanging limp around his neck, and one socked foot was resting atop the opposite knee, as he stared into the distance of the swamp he had created.

He looked at her as she stepped into the low light of the bedroom and held out his free hand to her.

“Join me, mon cher?” he asked.

Mina’s bare feet carried her over carpet to moss in a few strides, and as she took the hand he offered, he adjusted his seat and gently pulled her into his lap. She rested her body between his spread legs, her feet dangling over the edge of one of his knees and tucked her head under his chin.

He tossed his pipe to the ground, and it burst into green flame, leaving no trace of it but a small, lingering trail of smoke. With both hands now free, he cradled her to him, one hand stroking her thigh over her robe while the other traced lazy circles at the base of her neck.

“When you left,” she began carefully, speaking softy, “I was so alone. I needed my family.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“Abaddon didn’t take me back as a torturer. They promoted me. Offered me the chance to go to the mortal world and look for you, if I worked as a bounty hunter instead. Even Rosie thought it was a good idea. She’s the only other one who knew.”

She felt him stiffen a little beneath her, but he stayed silent, allowing her to continue.

“I didn’t know what else to do. I had nothing left. So, I took the job. And when they told me about Charlie’s idea . . . there were these rumors. And you probably can’t tell me if they are just rumors, can you?”

She felt the slight shake of his head above hers.

“No, I’m afraid it doesn’t seem to work that way. You could be dead wrong about something but as long as you’re making guesses, I can’t even try to lead you in the right direction. It’s . . . maddening.”

“Okay,” she said. At least she understood the rules now. She could work with that. “Well, there were rumors that somehow Heaven was involved. That it had something to do with exterminations. Or Lillith and why she left, too. That’s why I came here. If anyone could get a key to that place, it’s Charlie. There must be something to all that because this is the first place you showed up, right?”

She sat up a bit to look at him, to try and read anything in his face, but he just looked at her with a sad smile. Mina sighed and rested her head against his shoulder again.

“I would have told you all of this sooner. I don’t know if I would have quit once you got back because honestly . . . I really enjoyed it. But I thought you were purposefully keeping things from me. So, I kept my own secrets from you and I continued to work, just out of spite, because I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said.

“There’s something else.” She paused, still nervous to tell him the next part. “I’ve been let go. At least for now. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I get asked to come back. Abaddon took the fire from me. I can still use the portals, but I can’t wield any flame. That last night that I disappeared, things went really badly. I wasn’t just shot . . . I . . .”

Mina stopped, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and pressed her face deeper into the side of Alastor’s neck as she recalled the sight of Ro falling dead from the sky.

“Someone had a gun with Carmine steel bullets. I almost died. My partner, Roena, she did die. And Abaddon blames me, at least partly. I wanted to tell you, I really did, I was just too mad. I almost wanted you to find out from someone else, just so you would know how I felt every day that you were gone. How much it hurt not knowing if you were okay, or hurting, or happy . . . without me.”

The hand on her thigh ghosted up her side until he reached her shoulder, then he slipped it under her robe and palmed the smooth, scarless skin on her shoulder.

“I was okay,” he said after a beat, “because I knew you were okay. But I wasn’t happy. I hated that you weren’t with me. If I had come back from that, just to lose you forever-“

His voice cracked and not just from the radio effect.

Mina knew he wasn’t just talking about her brush with death. It was the combination of that, and her threat to leave him, that still had him so shaken.

She sat up enough to look at him again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said with conviction. “Whatever happens, whatever your deal is, whatever it makes you do, I refuse to let it break us. You were right. We’re stronger than that. And I swear, I will burn everything around us to the ground if anyone tries to take you from me again.”

His smile shifted into what she knew to be his genuine smile.

“That’s the most romantic thing I think you’ve ever said to me.”

Mina didn’t return his smile.

“I said such horrid things to you,” she said, cupping his face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I love you. I need you to know that, okay? I love you more than anything.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” he said, and pulled her robe down from her shoulder to kiss where his hand had been.

I love you, too

“Je t’aime chaque jour davantage,” he said, and kissed her throat.

I love you more each day.

“Je t’aime pour toujours,” he said, and kissed her mouth.

I love you forever.

Mina kissed him back, trying not to let her thoughts wander to the stitches she had seen on his lips earlier. Trying not to wonder if they were there now and if they were, how many times had she kissed him like this, not knowing they were there. She still knew almost nothing about why he had left, but she knew one thing for sure.

She ran her fingers through his hair, grasping at the back of his head, intensifying the kiss.

He was hers.

Alastor matched her fervor, parting her lips and meeting her tongue with his own. His hand slipped lower under her robe and caressed her breast, playfully pinching a nipple until it stood taught and hard beneath his fingertips.

She was his.

Mina forced his head back and kissed the exposed skin at the top of his high collared shirt, growling as she bit the soft flesh there just hard enough to mark it.

There was no room for anyone else in their relationship. Whoever bargained with him for control over his soul clearly hadn’t counted on Mina being in the picture. But she was, damn it, and she was not about to back down from a fight.

Alastor’s hand left her chest and found her thigh again, slipping under the robe there and following the path up the back of her leg to her ass, and finding only disappointment with how her legs were pressed tightly together due to the position she was in on his lap.

“Are you still in heat?” he asked, digging his claws into the supple flesh cupped in his hand.

Mina didn’t know how he had found out because she was certain she hadn’t told him, but it didn’t really matter then anyway.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said honestly. Not that she needed to be with the way things were going.

“Pity,” he said, and lightly spanked her. “Stand up.”

She did as she was told and he undid the loosely tied sash of her robe and Mina dutifully helped him get the rest of it off of her. It was tossed onto the mossy ground somewhere behind her and immediately forgotten.

He scooted to the edge of the recliner and pulled her naked body flush against him, kissing her at the bottom of her sternum and slipping a hand between her legs.

Mina shifted her weight, parting her legs to better accommodate the width of his hand, and he began expertly moving a finger between her slick folds.

She kept one hand on his head while the other groped at his shoulder, squeezing tightly as she held on.

In seconds she was gasping and moaning as he worked her up, her legs going weak at the knees, and she had to lean into him more for balance.

“I think you are still in heat,” he said, nipping at the bottom side of her breast. “You’re positively dripping right now.”

“Hmmm,” she whined, rocking her hips a little as he curled a finger inside. “This is all your doing.”

He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, letting his teeth graze and tease the pale skin around it until it turned bright red as his attention. Then he slipped a second finger inside, careful not to let her feel his claws, and pressed the heal of his hand against her clit.

Alastor must have been right, and the last remnants of her heat cycle were still affecting her because Mina came hard, crying out his name. But it was over too quickly, and she was still aching desperately for him now that he had turned her on.

She shoved him back and he laughed as his back hit the recliner. Then she was kneeling between his knees, undoing his pants and impatiently yanking on them until he obliged and lifted his hips enough for her to pull them down to his thighs.

Mina purred as she buried her face in his crotch, breathing in the musky smell of him and she took his length in one hand and began to stroke. She felt another rush of wetness between her legs and fantasized regretfully about what an amazing day they would have had in bed together if this is how strongly she was desiring him now, in the final hours of her heat.

She bit hard into the flesh of his inner thigh, earning her an appreciative yank on her hair, before she took his shaft into her mouth and began moving up and down, sucking and working her tongue along the bottom vein, feeling him twitch with arousal. His head fell back as she gave his tip special attention, swirling her tongue in small circles around its opening, while pumping her hand at his base. If she knew him well, he wouldn’t let her go down on him for long, so she had to make the most of it while she could.

As expected, it wasn’t long before he was saying her name and grabbing her again by the hair, guiding her back up and on top of him.

Normally she would try to protest a little, but she knew then that they would both prefer for him to cum inside her. Especially with her hormones flooding her brain, she really wanted to feel him fill her up.

She rested her knees on either side of his hips, impaling herself on his length. She was so wet that her slick coated the inside of both her thighs, and his cock slid easily inside. It allowed her to waste no time adjusting before she was rocking her hips against his.

Mina grasped at his shirt, frustrated at the lack of skin-on-skin contact, but the teasing that the barrier between them created helped build up her arousal even further. She rode him just like that, with him nearly completely dressed while she was fully nude.

Alastor stayed leaning back deep in the recliner, enjoying the view of her pleasuring herself on him, and with enough space between them to adjust his arm at the right angle, pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit, so that she rocked against it with every forward motion.

His other hand roamed her body, scratching up her thigh, stroking the end of her tail, massaging her breast; touching her everywhere that it could reach.

After a few minutes, Mina was arching her back and crying out, so he pressed his thumb harder into her clit, working her with fast little circles until her walls were clenching around him once more. He had just barely refrained from cumming himself as he watched her reach the peak of her pleasure and he was glad for it as she caught her breath. Alastor could always tell when she was really sated or not and the needy look on her face told him she needed one more.

He wrapped his arms around her torso as he sat up, letting them both fall into shadow, and reappear naked together on the bed.

They spent a minute just kissing and caressing each other, letting Mina’s desire rebuild and his own retreat just enough to help him last another few minutes. Then he flipped her so that she was on her knees facing away from him, and he grasped his cock, using it to tease and rub against her soaking wet core, until she was crying his name again, her tail raised and held up to the side, giving his eyes a full view of her needy sex. He braced his tip at her entrance and pushed in with a single hard thrust, earning a satisfied moan from his lover, as she arched her back deeper and let him pound into her harder.

He fucked her hard and fast, just the way he knew she liked it when her body desired to be bred. But after several minutes had gone by, he could feel his balls beginning to tighten, his antlers growing large and heavy, and knew he wouldn’t last much longer at that pace. She was right at the edge of her third orgasm but Alastor knew she was overstimulated and needed something to push her over. From experience, he knew the angle wasn’t right for him to stimulate her clit with his hand. He couldn’t reach her there, not with how much she had her thighs pressed against her body.

But his shadows could.

He sent two tentacles to wrap around her, one to caress and pinch at her breasts, while the other went between her legs and began stroking her clit. With his hands free, he dug his nails into the flesh of her thighs and hips, and she pressed herself harder against him in response, begging for him to mark her until she bled.

They came together, her screaming into the bed sheets as he silently gripped the curves of her hips, feeling the blood gather at his fingertips, his rocking becoming slower as her body relaxed beneath his and he finally began to soften inside her.

Then he pulled out and fell into bed beside her, his shadowy tentacles dissipating into nothingness, as she flipped onto her side and spread herself across his chest. Both bitten, scratched, and bleeding from purposeful, territorial marks, and finally fully sated.

She languidly ran her fingers up and down his chest, over the permanent scars that she had memorized over the years. He rubbed circles around the base of her ears, letting the sounds of her purring relax him further.

Eventually, their love marks healed, leaving only traces of blood that would be washed away later. It didn’t matter. They only served as temporary reminders as to what they were. Even the rings they each wore were simply symbolic. What mattered most was each other.

He was hers. And she was his.

And now he was certain that no force would ever be able to take her from him again.

They crawled under the blankets together, uncaring about the late hour of the morning, or the rest of the hotel, and fell asleep wrapped up in each other.

___

They were both startled awake by the sound of the bedroom door flying open and slamming against the wall.

“It stinks in here!” Niffty cried out and frantically began rummaging around the room.

She grabbed at Alastor’s jacket and then quickly darted over to Mina’s robe, tossing them into the laundry bin.

“Why are you two so messy?! Don’t you know where dirty clothes belong? Who raised you? You don’t have to make my job harder, you know.”

Mina and Alastor sat up, watching the tiny woman as she worked her way around their room. Mina cautiously kept the comforter held tightly to her naked chest.

“Are you kidding me?!” Niffty said as she flung the bathroom door open and looked inside. “Mina, you left black fur everywhere in here!!”

“That can’t be sanitary!” she said, pointing at the bayou sitting nestled into the far wall. “How many fireflies having infested the hotel because of that?!”

She scurried over to the end of the bed and began yanking on the blankets.

“Blood? Really? Do you know how hard blood is to get out of silk sheets?!”

“Niffty!” Alastor shouted, grabbing hold of his edge of the sheets before they were pulled any lower down.

Niffty froze and blinked up at her boss, looking shocked that he had raised his voice at her.

“Give us an hour,” he said sharply, then lowered his tone. “Please.”

She looked abashed for a second but then rolled her one large eye at him.

“Fine. But don’t complain to me when your bed isn’t made in time.”

Niffty slammed the door on her way out.

Alastor and Mina looked at each other.

“Didn’t we lock that door?” she asked.

Next Chapter ->

@inuhalfdemon @saccharine-nectarine

Author's Note:

I make it very clear in this chapter that Alastor is depicted as demisexual, and hinted at being demiromantic. Asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums and can vary from person to person, so rather than try and write him in a way that everyone under those labels can relate to, which would be impossible, I've chosen to write him experiencing sexual attraction and love in the same way I do as a demi person. Write what you know, as they say.

Being aroace-spec is part of the reason why reader inserts are something I struggle to write, even if they are more popular. Although I am a cis woman, I relate strongly with Alastor's character, and Mina is based off my own wife rather than myself.

The conversation with Fae was important to write out as a statement of respect towards Alastor's canon asexuality, but also for Mina to understand him better going forward in this story.

That all being said, there will be a lot more smut in this story going forward, including kinks that I would never be interested in real life, but are very fun to explore in the world of fiction. So, if an ace person having a lot of explicit sex is going to bother you, you have been warned. And if you are a smut skimmer and just here for the cartoon dick, please stick around.

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