#and lay bare the import of their choices

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

one path in fiction (and reality) to help a character with a problem address it is to force them to interact with an exaggerated, funhouse mirror version of themselves and let them come to their own conclusion how they don't wanna be that.

my guess is Aabria had no specific personality plan for Tabby, but that Tabby was going to funhouse mirror whatever the gang had going on. and everyone had beautiful communal motives but also like desperation to be a part of things and help everyone else, and that but squared equals the Tabby we got.

[ahqkas]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesn’t know they have hero identities yet and they find out s/o has some merch of their hero side at their house? S/o just thinks that heroes neat and uses one of the figures as a door stopper so the door does not slam when it’s windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesn’t go flying everywhere?

♯SECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS

— gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT STARTED OUT LIKE ANY OTHER MORNING AT WAYNE MANOR. the first rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains of bruce’s grand bedroom, the golden light pooling across the floor. you shuffled out of bed, your feet cold against the hardwood, and grabbed the nearest hoodie to ward off the chill. you’ve never been a morning bird. but what would change it now?

unbeknownst to you, bruce was already awake, freshly showered and shaved, nursing a steaming cup of coffee alfred made for him in the kitchen. he was going over the morning’s headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like this—quiet, unhurried—were rare but cherished.

“morning,” you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning,” he replied, glancing up from the paper. the casual warmth in his voice faltered the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

you were wearing that hoodie. black, oversized, and emblazoned with a bright yellow bat-symbol on the front. he recognized it immediately—he’d seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. he’d even scoffed at the inaccuracies back then, not expecting you to own one, let alone wear it. and now you were draped in his merch.

bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality. “what are you wearing?” ( curiosity on the outside , panic on the inside ) . what if you knew of his nighttime activities?

glancing down at yourself and your choice of clothing, you tugged at the hem absentmindedly. “oh, this? yeah, i love it. it’s super comfy. got it on sale a while back.”

“you’re a fan of batman?”

you gave him a curious look. “who isn’t? he’s gotham’s hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.” you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. “though i guess it’s a little weird wearing merch of someone who’s technically, like, a crime boss for good.”

bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. “crime boss?”

“well, think about it,” you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. “he’s got henchmen—like robin and nightwing—and a lair filled with gadgets. he’s just . . . on the good side.”

the batman fought the urge to laugh. he leaned back in his chair, observing you with a mix of affection and amusement. who knew he had such a lovie around his finger? “that’s one way to look at it,” he replied smoothly, though he couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. “why? you don’t like him?”

his brows arched, genuinely curious. “what makes you say that?”

“you’re awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think he’s amazing or a total menace. you’re, like, switzerland on batman,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“let’s just say . . . i have a unique perspective.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LAZY AFTERNOONS WHERE THE TWO OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO STAY IN. the sun filtered through the curtains of your cozy apartment, casting warm, golden light across the room as you lay curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while dick was sprawled in an armchair across from you, pretending to do his own stuff at his phone but mostly watching you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

everything was perfectly normal—until he noticed what you were wearing.

it was a t-shirt, oversized and clearly one of your go-to comfy options. but not just any shirt. emblazoned across the chest was the bold, angular symbol of nightwing, printed in that unmistakable electric blue. now that got his attention.

dick blinked, lowering the glowing screen slightly to get a better look at you. for a moment, he felt a mix of pride, amusement, and sheer panic wash over him. you had nightwing merch? did you know? were you teasing him? or had you just picked it up as a casual fan of blüdhaven’s vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.

“nice shirt,” he commented casually, though his voice had an edge of curiosity, asking you with saying the question out loud.

you glanced up, oblivious to his sudden attention. “oh, this?” you plucked at the hem and grinned. “yeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guy’s kinda awesome, you know?”

he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. “kinda awesome?”

“okay, really awesome,” you gave in with a laugh. “i mean, he’s out there keeping blüdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesn’t have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.”

your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “sounds like you’re a pretty big fan.” talk about narcissism.

“well, yeah, who wouldn’t be? he’s smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen his—” you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.

“seen his what?” dick was intrigued even more now after your little slip up, leaning forward with his smirk deepening. oh, he was just starting.

you waved a hand dismissively, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “nothing. forget i said anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because you’re a fan, or . . . ?”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. “what’s with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?”

“me? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,” he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement—and the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.

“good,” you teased, leaning back into the pillows. “because if i ever run into him, i’ll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.”

dick laughed, shaking his head a little. “oh, i’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

seeing you in his symbol was both endearing and a little surreal. part of him wanted to come clean right then and there, to tell you that the guy you admired so much was sitting right across from you, teasing you about your t-shirt. but for now, he decided to keep his secret.

still, as he watched you lounge in that nightwing tee, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest. if you only knew the truth, he had a feeling you’d still think he was kind of awesome—though he wasn’t sure you’d ever let him live down the spandex comments.

. . . JASON TODD !

IT WAS A BREEZY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and the windows of your small apartment were wide open, letting the crisp, cool air in. papers were strewn across your desk as you worked on sorting through bills and notes. to keep the occasional gust from scattering everything, you’d grabbed the closest thing you could find—an action figure.

( not just any action figure, though. )

sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gotham’s infamous red hood, complete with his signature leather jacket, red helmet, and pistols. even the little red bat on his chest matched the original.

your boyfriend walked in, carrying takeout bags in both hands as he kicked the front door shut behind him, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “babe, i got—” he froze mid-sentence when he spotted the figure perched on your desk. his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

no fucking way.

“is that . . . ?”

you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. “huh?”

he set the bags down on the counter, crossed the room in a few strides, and picked up the small figurine. jason held it up, examining it with an almost comical mix of horror and amusement on his face.

“this,” he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, “is red hood merch.”

“yeah, and?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.

“and?” he repeated, incredulous. “why do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?”

“no, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, he’s kind of a badass.”

jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. “you think he’s a badass?”

“yeah, don’t you?” you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. “what, are you jealous of a figurine now?”

his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. “jealous? no,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. “i just think it’s funny that you’re using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, don’t you think?”

you laughed. “oh, please. i’m sure gotham’s notorious anti-hero doesn’t care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.”

“honored?” jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “yeah, i’m sure that’s exactly what he’d feel.”

you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what’s with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?”

he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your desk—albeit more carefully than he’d picked it up. “oh, yeah, totally. i’ve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.”

“hm, i bet you do,” you teased, grinning as you watched him retreat to unpack the takeout.

jason shook his head, his smirk lingering as he pulled out the food. internally, he was debating how to feel about the whole situation. on one hand, the fact that you admired red hood (even if you didn’t know it was him) was oddly flattering. on the other, the sight of his miniature self keeping your papers in line was downright hilarious.

as he set the table, he couldn’t resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. “just saying, if you’re such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.”

“oh, relax,” you shot back, laughing. “if he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.”

jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. “careful what you wish for, babe.”

don’t be surprised when red hood comes knocking on your door, sweetheart!

. . . TIM DRAKE !

THE NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN and tim was stretched out on your couch in your apartment, his phone resting on his lap as we tiredly watched the tv. the soft hum of the crime documentary filled the background as you dug through your bag by the door, fishing around for your keys.

“found them!” you declared, holding them up triumphantly.

tim glanced over with a small smile tugging at his lips. you were adorable like this, excited over the smallest things. “that’s a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.”

you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. “it’s not about the keys, it’s about this little guy.”

you held up the ring, pointing specifically at a tiny lego figure hanging off of it. the miniature figure wore a domino mask and a red-and-black suit with a yellow “R” emblazoned on the chest—a miniature red robin.

your boyfriend froze on the spot. his brain seemed to hit a wall as he stared at the tiny version of himself dangling from your keys. the little figure swayed slightly, as though mocking him.

“ . . . where did you get that?”

“oh, isn’t it cute?” you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. “i found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought it’d make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.”

tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?

“you’re a fan of red robin?” he asked carefully, tilting his head.

you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s kind of underrated, though, don’t you think?”

“underrated?”

“yeah!” you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. “i mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwing—and robin, obviously—but red robin? he’s like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?”

tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. “so, he’s your favorite, then?”

“mmm,” you pretended to consider. “he’s up there. though nightwing’s a close second. sorry, but the guy’s got moves.”

he snorted, leaning back against the couch. “can’t argue with that.”

“but red robin’s, like, the total package,” you continued, gesturing animatedly. “he’s clever, he’s got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesn’t get as much attention, so he’s probably not as cocky as some of the others.”

your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. “not as cocky?”

“yeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?” you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. “plus, he’s got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.”

tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. “so you carry him around everywhere?”

“of course,” you said, grinning. “he’s like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.”

he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. “you’re something else, you know that?”

part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally him—but there was something too sweet, too hilarious about the situation to ruin it just yet. besides, you looked genuinely happy talking about red robin, and he kind of liked seeing himself through your eyes, even if you didn’t know it. he made a silent vow to tell you the truth soon. but for now, he let you keep your little lego protector, amused and endeared by the fact that you unknowingly carried a tiny version of him wherever you went.

[dearlenore]

THE FIRST, FIRST LOVE COMPLEX • S.REID

SUMMARY: when a serial killer obsessed with Spencer sends threatening letters to the BAU, they uncover mentions of a mysterious first love the unsub vows to kill. Confused, the team questions Spencer — wasn’t Maeve already dead? Left with no choice, Spencer is forced to confess the truth.

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a cutie pie, reader wears sun dresses and bikinis, reader is flirty bombshell, mentions of eating disorder, mentions of death, stalking, etc

a/n: i was thinking about this concept forever and finally got around to writing it so this one might be my longest fic yet please bare with me <3

w/c: 3.5K (goddamn!!)

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Tuesday morning. Phones still rang, keys still clattered, but there was an undercurrent of unease — that lingering tension that crept in before a storm.

Spencer Reid sat at his desk, flipping through a worn copy of Gödel, Escher, Bach. The logic should have grounded him, but his mind refused to focus. His fingers fidgeted with the corner of the page, folding and unfolding it absentmindedly. Something was gnawing at him — something he couldn’t quite place

“Reid?”

He startled, glancing up to see JJ standing by his desk, a thick envelope in her hand. Her expression was serious, eyes scanning him with quiet concern.

“This came in this morning,” she said, placing the envelope on his desk. “Addressed to you.”

Spencer’s eyes dropped to the envelope. His name was scrawled across the front in elegant, looping cursive. No return address. The paper felt heavy, expensive — like something you’d use for wedding invitations. His stomach twisted.

“Did you open it?” he asked quietly.

JJ shook her head. “I wanted you to see it first.”

The bullpen felt quieter now, the air heavier. Spencer slid his letter opener beneath the envelope’s seal and carefully unfolded the thick parchment inside. The paper smelled faintly of ink and something floral — lavender, maybe.

And then he read the words:

A heart once shattered, sewn in gold,

Memories linger though years turn cold.

The girl who smiled with eyes so bright,

Will burn again before the night.

A book’s torn page, a crimson thread —

Retrace the steps or find her dead.

Spencer’s fingers went numb. His pulse thumped in his ears as his gaze lingered on the words — especially the third line.

“Reid?” JJ’s voice was softer now. “What is it?”

“It’s… it’s a poem,” he said quietly, his voice tight. He swallowed hard. “It’s referencing my first love.”

JJ’s brow furrowed. “Maeve?”

Spencer nodded hesitantly. “She used to write me poems like this — riddles, puzzles. But this…” He reread the words. Will burn again before the night. His stomach twisted.

JJ’s expression hardened. “I’ll get Garcia.”

“No.” Spencer’s voice was sharper than he intended. JJ froze, her eyes narrowing.

“Why not?”

“Just… give me a minute,” he said, folding the letter carefully and sliding it into his desk drawer. “I need to think.”

JJ didn’t look convinced, but she relented. “Okay,” she said softly. “But you’re not figuring this out alone.”

As she walked away, Spencer leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingers to his temples. His heart raced — not just from the letter, but from the secret he had buried for months now.

Because whoever wrote that letter wasn’t just referencing Maeve.

They knew about her.

The team gathered in the briefing room minutes later. The envelope lay open on the table, its contents displayed beside it. Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her usual energy tempered by the tension in the room.

“Okay, so the envelope’s custom stationery,” Garcia reported. “Handmade, actually — imported from Italy. Not cheap.” She tapped a few more keys. “I’ve reached out to the company for a buyer list, but this isn’t something you grab at a corner store.”

Hotch nodded grimly. “This poem… you said it references Maeve?”

Spencer shifted in his seat. “I think so,” he said carefully. “The way it’s written — it’s similar to how she’d write riddles for me. But the wording…” He hesitated. “It’s different. Darker.”

Emily’s gaze sharpened. “You think the unsub’s mimicking her?”

“Or they knew her,” Spencer murmured.

“Maeve’s been gone for over two years,” Rossi said. “Why now?”

Before Spencer could answer, Garcia’s computer pinged. She clicked into her inbox, her eyes widening.

“Oh no…” she whispered.

“What?” Hotch asked.

“There was a break-in at a lab in New York. last night. One of the items reported missing…” Her fingers moved rapidly as she pulled up the list. “Several vials of thallium sulfate. Highly toxic, fatal in small doses.”

“Wait,” Emily said, her face pale. “That’s the same poison Maeve’s stalker threatened to use, isn’t it?”

Spencer barely heard her. His mind was spiraling — the poem, the poison, the threat.

Retrace the steps or find her dead.

“Spencer?” JJ’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“I need some air,” he mumbled, pushing back his chair.

The corridor outside the bullpen felt too bright, too sterile. Spencer leaned against the wall, dragging a shaky breath into his lungs.

“You’re not okay,” JJ’s voice said softly.

He didn’t turn. “I just… need a minute.”

“You’ve been quiet since this morning,” JJ pressed. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“I told you everything I know,” he lied.

JJ didn’t buy it — he could feel her gaze on him, sharp and unwavering.

“Spencer…”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped. His voice cracked, betraying him.

JJ stepped closer, lowering her voice. “If this isn’t about Maeve…”

“It’s not,” Spencer admitted before he could stop himself. His breath hitched. “It’s not about Maeve.”

JJ’s expression softened. “Then who?”

Spencer closed his eyes. He could see her face — soft eyes, that satisfied smile, the way her hand lingered just a second too long when she passed him a book.

“Her name’s y/n,” he said quietly.

JJ blinked. “y/n?”

“She was… someone I knew years ago. Before Maeve.” His throat tightened. “I haven’t seen her in years, but…” He shook his head. “The poem — the way it references a ‘girl who smiled with eyes so bright.’ That’s her. She used to say that I —” He stopped, his voice breaking.

“You think the unsub’s targeting her?”

Spencer nodded. “I think they know about her. And if they’ve been watching me…”

JJ’s face hardened. “We need to find her. Now.”

Spencer knew she was right, but something cold coiled in his chest — the kind of dread that gnawed at the edges of logic.

Because whoever had written that poem didn’t just know about you.

They knew about him.

JJ and Spencer reentered the conference room, their faces shadowed with unease. The tension in the room deepened as they sat down.

“This…” JJ began softly, her voice unsteady. “This isn’t about Maeve.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence felt like a crack in the foundation — thin, fragile, and threatening to split wide open.

Hotch’s gaze sharpened. “Who is it about?” His tone was stern, but there was an edge of concern beneath it.

Spencer swallowed hard, his fingers twisting together. “Her name is Y/N.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the room like glass. “I knew her years ago… before Maeve.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t think it mattered,” Spencer said quickly, guilt bleeding into his voice. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought she was safe… that she’d moved on.” He paused, voice breaking. “I thought I’d moved on.”

“But the poem,” JJ pressed gently, “it’s about her?”

Spencer gave a shaky nod. “That line — ‘The girl who smiled with eyes so bright’ — that’s her.” His voice softened as if the memory itself had a heartbeat. “She always said…”

The room was quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t tense — it was heavy.

“Spence…” JJ’s voice was softer now. “Why would someone go after her?”

Spencer let out a long breath, reaching down to his bag. The zipper hissed as he pulled it open, his hand disappearing inside. When he brought it back up, he was holding a sleek black hard drive.

“What’s that?” Garcia asked, her curiosity tempered with concern.

Spencer stared at the device for a moment, as if gathering the strength to hand it over. “It’s…everything.” He slid it across the table to Garcia. “Every memory I have of her.”

Penelope’s fingers curled around the hard drive, her colorful nails stark against the black plastic. “Everything?” she repeated softly.

“I started keeping track after we lost touch,” Spencer admitted. “Photos, videos… voicemails.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to forget her. Not again.”

“Forget her?” Emily asked, her gaze narrowing.

Spencer looked down at his hands, his fingers tightly intertwined. “I met her when I was still a rookie with the Bureau,” he explained. “We… we kept things quiet. She wasn’t in law enforcement, and I didn’t want her to get caught up in what I was doing. But then…” He faltered. “There was a case — a stalker who fixated on me. He started following Y/N too.”

“Wait,” Morgan cut in, voice sharp. “You had a stalker back then?”

“I never told anyone,” Spencer said quickly. “We weren’t public. Nobody knew about us — except him.” His eyes flicked back to the hard drive. “I thought if I cut ties with her… if I made her think I didn’t care… she’d be safer.”

“You let her believe you didn’t love her?” JJ asked softly.

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I had to.”

“Did it work?” Rossi asked.

“For a while,” Spencer said quietly. “The stalker went dormant, and Y/N disappeared from my life.” His voice wavered. “I thought she was safe.”

Hotch leaned forward. “But now you think that same stalker is back?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “But this letter… the way it’s written… it’s personal. Someone’s been watching me long enough to know about her. And if they know about her…” He trailed off, his chest tightening.

“We’ll find her,” JJ promised firmly.

“I just…” Spencer shook his head, his fingers curling into his palm. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I do,” Garcia said gently. “This?” She held up the hard drive. “This is a map — memories, places, dates. If someone’s been following her or tracking you, I’ll find the connection here. I think it’s best we all take a look.”

Spencer managed a faint smile, though his eyes were still troubled. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Spence,” JJ said softly. “What was she like?”

His expression softened, memories flickering behind his eyes. “She was… kind,” he said quietly. “And patient — God, she was patient with me.” He chuckled softly, just for a second. “She had this laugh — this really loud, almost embarrassing laugh — but I loved it.” His smile faded. “She made everything… brighter.”

“You loved her,” JJ said gently.

Spencer exhaled shakily. “I do.”

For the first time in years, he let himself believe that maybe — just maybe — she still loved him too.

The team gathered closer as Penelope carefully plugged the hard drive into her computer. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of her system booting up the device. Spencer’s fingers drummed anxiously against the table, his eyes locked on the screen as folders began to populate the display. Each folder was meticulously labeled.

“You really kept everything,” Derek murmured, her voice soft with surprise.

“I couldn’t let myself forget,” Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Alright, sugar,” Penelope said carefully, scrolling to the Videos folder. “Where should I start?”

“Anywhere,” Spencer said tightly. “I just… I couldn’t pick…”

Penelope clicked on a file labeled “Bookstore - November 17” and the screen filled with a grainy but warm video.

The camera wobbled at first before settling. The angle suggested Spencer had set it on a nearby shelf. The room was dimly lit — a small, cozy bookstore with stacks of novels lining the walls.

You appeared in the frame, sitting cross-legged on the floor between two shelves, a book balanced on your knee.

“Spencer,” you called teasingly, barely glancing up from your page. “Are you filming me again?”

“You always read out loud when you think no one’s listening,” Spencer’s voice answered from behind the camera.

“That’s because I think no one’s listening,” you shot back with a laugh. “Now come sit down.”

The camera shook as Spencer joined you on the floor, his arm barely visible in the corner of the screen.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“Sherlock Holmes,” you said proudly, tapping the book’s worn cover. “I wanted to understand what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”

“You could’ve just asked me,” Spencer teased.

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, “but this way I get to imagine you in a ridiculous hat and smoking a pipe.”

You both laughed — warm and unguarded. The kind of laughter Spencer hadn’t let himself remember in a long time.

The video ended, and the room fell silent.

Spencer swallowed hard, his chest tight. “Play another,” he said softly.

Penelope clicked on a second file titled “Movie Night - March 3.”

This time, you were curled up on Spencer’s couch, clutching a blanket to your chest. Spencer’s voice, from behind the camera again, spoke up.

“It’s just a horror movie,” he teased.

“You say that like you’re not the one who jumped during the last scene,” you shot back, eyes narrowing playfully.

“I did not jump,” Spencer protested.

“Oh please,” you giggled, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You’re the genius — shouldn’t you know when a jump scare’s coming?”

The camera wobbled as Spencer sat beside you. “Maybe I just like the excuse to sit closer to you.”

The playful grin on your face softened. “You don’t need an excuse.”

The video faded to black.

“That’s adorable,” Garcia whispered, her voice unusually soft.

“Play one more,” Spencer said, his voice tight. “Please.”

Penelope hesitated before opening the folder marked “Voicemails.” The file names were organized by date, and Penelope scrolled down until she found one titled “Last Voicemail.”

“Spence…” JJ said quietly.

“I need to hear it,” Spencer insisted.

Penelope clicked play.

“Hey, Spence!” Your voice burst through the speakers, light and full of energy. “I know you’re probably knee-deep in some criminal mastermind’s twisted head right now, but I just wanted to say I miss you. Oh, and…”

There was a pause, followed by muffled shuffling.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready!” Your voice returned, playful now. “I have something important to tell you…”

Another voice — Spencer’s voice — cut in faintly from the background.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Recording your new voicemail greeting, obviously,” you teased. “Come on, it’ll make you smile when you check your messages.”

There was more muffled laughter, then you continued in your most dramatic voice:

“Hello! You’ve reached the phone of the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s probably off being a genius right now, so please leave a message — and don’t forget to ask about statistics, he loves that.”

“I do not love that,” Spencer’s voice mumbled in the background.

You burst out laughing. “Okay, love you, nerd. Call me back.”

The voicemail ended with a beep.

Spencer pressed his hand to his mouth, his eyes fixed on the screen. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. The warmth of your voice — your laugh — it felt so close yet impossibly far away.

“You still have her number?” Morgan asked softly.

Spencer blinked, his hand slowly lowering. “I… yeah.”

“Try calling her,” JJ encouraged.

Spencer hesitated, but then slowly reached for his phone. His fingers hovered over the contact button — Y/N — for a moment before he pressed Call.

The room was so quiet you could hear the faint buzzing as the line rang once… twice…

Then came your voice — that same playful greeting that spilled from the speakers moments before:

“Hello! You’ve reached the phone of the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s probably off being a genius right now, so please leave a message — and don’t forget to ask about his statistics, he loves that…”

Spencer’s breath hitched.

“I do not love that,” his own voice muttered faintly from the recording.

“Okay, love you, nerd. Call me back.”

The voicemail beeped. Spencer just sat there, phone still pressed to his ear. His voice shook when he finally spoke.

“Y/N… it’s me.” His voice cracked. “If… if you get this, please — please call me back. I just need to know you’re safe.”

He ended the call and set his phone down, his fingers trembling.

“We’ll find her,” JJ promised again, her hand squeezing his arm.

Spencer didn’t look up. His gaze remained locked on the screen, still frozen on your face — smiling, warm, and so painfully alive.

“The invitation… it looks like a wedding invitation…” Emily mused, holding it to the light.

“Yeah or a funeral if we don’t hurry. Wheels up in 10.” Hotch announced, walking out quickly.

The BAU’s jet cruised steadily through the sky, but Spencer couldn’t seem to sit still. He shifted in his seat, eyes flickering from the case file on the table to the phone resting in his lap — still silent. The unanswered call gnawed at him.

Across from him, Rossi watched quietly, fingers curled around his coffee mug. Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied Spencer.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Derek said finally, breaking the silence.

“What thing?” Spencer asked distractedly, still glancing at his phone.

“That thing where you’re in your head so deep you might as well start charging rent,” Derek teased, but his tone was softer than usual.

Spencer sighed and set his phone down. “I can’t stop thinking about her,” he admitted.

“Good,” Rossi said simply, setting his mug down with a quiet clink.

Spencer blinked. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Derek chimed in. “If this guy’s targeting her, we need to know everything about her — who she is, what she cares about, what makes her stand out. That’s how we build the profile.”

“I know,” Spencer murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of the file. “It’s just… I don’t know what’s relevant.”

“Then start from the beginning,” Rossi encouraged. “Tell us about her.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, unsure where to start. But once the memories began to surface, they spilled out like water breaking through a dam.

“She’s… different from me,” Spencer said softly. “Where I overthink everything, she’s spontaneous. She’s the type of person who’ll pull over just because she spotted a cute bakery and decided we had to try it.” He smiled faintly. “She doesn’t need a reason to be happy — she just… is.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty taken with her,” Derek said with a knowing grin.

Spencer’s smile widened. “I was — I mean… I still am.”

He glanced down at his phone again, hoping for a missed call, a message — anything.

“She loves color,” Spencer continued, his voice softer now. “Her whole apartment had these soft pastel accents — blankets, mugs, flowers… all delicate and warm. She always wore perfume that smelled like vanilla. You could walk in and just know you were in her space.”

Derek chuckled. “I can’t picture you in a pink room.”

Spencer’s smile turned wistful. “It didn’t matter. Anywhere was fine with her.”

“She sounds like she grounded you,” Rossi said.

“She did,” Spencer nodded. “And… she has this dream — one that always seemed so simple, but it meant everything to her.” He paused. “She wanted this little white house — nothing fancy, just something cozy — with a white picket fence and a big backyard. She wanted dogs — at least two, maybe three.” He chuckled softly. “She even had names picked out.”

Rossi smiled. “A dreamer.”

“She’s always been like that,” Spencer said, his voice quiet but warm. “She believed in fairytales — the real kind, where everything works out in the end.”

“You think she’d still go for that?” Derek asked. “The house, the dogs?”

“I know she would,” Spencer said with certainty. “Even when things were hard, she never stopped believing in that life — in finding comfort and love wherever she could.”

“Did she have a favorite place?” Rossi asked. “Somewhere she’d feel safe?”

“Yeah,” Spencer said, his brow furrowing in thought. “She loved this café — Mason’s Corner. She used to sit in the back corner with her headphones on, sipping iced coffee and writing in her journal. She’d lose track of time there.”

“Sounds like someone who chases the simple things,” Rossi noted.

“She does,” Spencer said softly. “She doesn’t need much to be happy — just a good book, an iced coffee, and somewhere quiet to think.”

Derek’s expression softened. “That’s what makes her special, man — that’s the stuff that sticks out. Whoever’s watching her isn’t just targeting her because of you… they know her. The way she thinks, what she wants. Everything you just told us — that’s what’s going to help us find her.”

Spencer looked down at his phone again, the screen still dark.

“I just hope she still believes in happy endings,” he whispered.

[luvxkdrama]

— reflections

pairing : frontman x reader

warnings : mentions of blood, guns, manipulation, toxic love

word count : 2.6k

summary : "We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides."

—

Y/N adjusted her pink jumpsuit and mask, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She hated everything about this place: the screams, the games, the stench of blood that clung to every surface. She hated being part of this macabre machine, but she didn’t have a choice. Or at least, that’s what she tried to justify herself with.

A year ago, when she first arrived and realised what was actually happening, she had vowed to find a way to end it all. Once she was back home, she worked silently, methodically not sharing her plans to anyone, besides one person.

Hwang Inho.

She met him after the first game as he was a pink guard as well and as much as y/n didn’t trust him at first due to his cold facade, he actually turned out to have the same ideas as her. He was different from the other pink guards y/n has met, he was quieter, observant. Unlike the others, who reveled in their power over the players or fell into obedient silence, he had a sharp wit that he wielded sparingly but effectively. He always seemed to sense when Y/N needed a quick distraction during tense moments.

And so, after they got out of the game, they worked side by side often, and she eventually found herself drawn to the rare moments when they spoke about things unrelated to the game. Cozy nights, wrapped in blankets and talking as if there was no tomorrow.

Y/N tried to stay focused on her mission and not let her mind wander anywhere else but with the time passing by, the moments spent together became significantly more important to her.

Things shifted when one particular night instead of going home, Inho suggested y/n to sleepover at his house as it was pouring rain and the roads were dangerously blurry. One thing led to another and eventually y/n found herself laying her head on his bare chest, feeling safer than ever.

“What are you planning to do once you take down the organisation?” He asked while gently running his fingers across her hair.

Y/N thought for a moment and smiled “I don’t know,” she finally answered “My main focus for now is succeeding this mission and the rest… we’ll see I guess.”

Inho chuckled and didn’t push further, understanding her answer. He then put his left hand on her cheek and slowly raised her head to plant a soft kiss on her lips, smiling into the kiss.

A year passed by quickly and it was time to return there again. Y/N felt ready, she knew what to do and when, especially after Inho somehow managed to find a sketch of the whole building where the games take place. Y/N did know that it was extremely odd to find such a thing out of blue, but knowing how helpful it was, she didn’t try to question it and simply let it slide, trusting him and being too immersed in succeeding her plan.

Before she knew, she was back, on her way to the first game, blending in as just another nameless guard in the sea of faceless pink uniforms.

Finally, the day came. It was the night after the third game when no one would expect anything as security was always on the highest alert after the first game.

Y/N was the one in motion while Inho was explaining the way she will have to make in order to get to the private lounge area. She managed to infiltrate the control room, her pulse pounding as she neutralized the guards stationed there. The room smelled of stale coffee and sweat, monitors flickering with live feeds of every horrifying corner of the facility.

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She had made it this far—there was no turning back now.

After shutting down the security systems and eliminating anyone in her way, Y/N pushed through a heavy door into a private lounge area. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a massive screen casting shadows over the elegant furniture. Her breath hitched as her eyes landed on a figure sitting on a leather sofa, his back to her.

Her hand tightened around the gun she held. “Don’t move.”

The man didn’t flinch. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “You made it quicker than I expected.” His voice was low and computerized due to the black mask.

Y/N quickly grabbed her walkie talkie and told Inho she managed to make it to the private lounge. However, even after waiting for a few more seconds, she didn’t get a reply. She tried once again but to no avail. She started to get nervous as to why he wasn't responding.

Her grip on the gun wavered slightly and she cursed, deciding to take matters in her own hands for now “Turn around. Slowly.”

He raised the whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before setting the glass down on the table. Then, with deliberate slowness, he stood and turned to face her, the black mask looking right at her. 

Y/N tried to reach out to Inho once again when suddenly the frontman took out something from his pocket. It was the walkie talkie y/n had given Inho. She froze, fearing the frontman somehow managed to capture Inho while she was busy fighting the soldiers.

"Where did you get this ?" She gulped, taking a few steps closer to him, pointing the gun right at his chest “If you hurt him I swear-”

A low chuckle echoed across the room, y/n looked at the frontman who shook his head before raising his hands to take off the mask.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat and her heart dropped.

It was him. Hwang Inho.

In an instant, it felt like all the walls around her started to suffocate her and that the room progressively got smaller. Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing. The man she had spent so much time with, the one who made her feel understood and the one who showed her what love felt like, was standing in front of her in a black coat with the black mask in his hand—the unmistakable mask of the Front Man.

“You—” she started, her voice cracking.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice colder now, void of the warmth she had grown accustomed to.

Y/N’s mind raced, piecing everything together. All the times he had been quiet, watching, listening. The way he seemed to know more than he let on. She felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“Why what?” he asked, stepping closer. “Why did I let you get this far? Or why am I standing here instead of stopping you?”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, raising the gun higher. “Don’t come any closer.”

The frontman—no, Inho—stopped, his hands raised in mock surrender. “If I wanted to stop you, Y/N, you’d already be dead. You know that.”

Her finger hovered over the trigger, her entire body shaking. “You knew. This whole time, you knew what I was doing. You were even helping me.”

"Helping is a big word. I’d rather say I was agreeing with your ideas and eventually giving you some clues from time to time.”

Her breath hitched. “What was your goal?”

He shrugged, his gaze unreadable. “I wanted to see how far you’d go. And now, here we are. I never doubted you though, I knew we'd meet here as I saw the ambition and determination in your eyes.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the truth settling between them. She hated him. She hated the games, the cruelty, the manipulation.

“I trusted you,” she whispered, lowering the gun slightly.

He stepped closer, this time without resistance. “And maybe you still can.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as he stopped just inches away, “What are you talking about?”

“Finish what you started,” he said simply, his voice low. “Shut it all down.”

Y/N stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears as his words settled over her like a suffocating fog. Her whole purpose for being here—to dismantle the games, to destroy everything he had built—now felt like a fragile construct teetering on the edge of collapse. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull of his words, the horrible, awful logic they carried.

“You’re insane, Inho.” she whispered finally, her voice raw.

Hwang Inho didn’t flinch, didn’t react to her insult. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But if I’m insane then what does that make you?” He asked suddenly “You’ve killed for your cause, Y/N. You killed dozens of guards to get here. And now, here you are—standing in front of me with a gun, and yet you can’t pull the trigger. Why?”

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, until Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re trying to twist this,” she spat, her voice rising. “Trying to manipulate me into thinking we’re the same so I won’t stop you.”

His gaze followed her, steady and unflinching. “I don’t need to manipulate you, Y/N. You’ve already proven my point. You killed those guards to get here. You knew the risks, and you accepted them. You’re not here because you’re better than me. You’re here because you’re willing to do whatever it takes—just like I am.”

"I don't kill those people, Y/N," he continued, referring to the players “I don't force them to come here, I give them a choice. Moreover, after each game they have the choice to stay or continue. They kill the other players to survive and get more money, not me. People are so greedy for money that it makes them blind. They loose the privilege of being called human, they reveal their true nature — monsters.”

She whirled on him, her chest heaving. “Not everyone comes here by choice, some just don't have any other way. So you're wrong Inho-”

He approached her slowly, towering over her now, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “Tell me Y/N, what do you think will happen if you kill me ?” he asked, his voice cold but not unkind. “The people who run this—the VIPs—they’ll just start again somewhere else. Somewhere you can’t reach them. Do you really think killing me will end this? I'm a just a puppet who accepted the harsh reality of this world, Y/N.”

Her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She wanted to scream that he was wrong, that there was a way to stop it all. But she didn’t have an answer.

“Exactly,” he whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “You think you can destroy this, but all you’ll do is burn yourself out trying. And in the meantime, people will keep dying.”

“So what?” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You’re saying I should join you? Help you keep this nightmare alive?”

He didn’t answer right away. Finally, his voice softened as he said, “I’m saying you need to decide what matters more—your principles, or your survival.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “I’d rather die than become like you.”

A faint smile flickered across his lips, “That’s what they all say.”

Before she could respond, the door behind her suddenly opened, and two guards stepped inside. Y/N’s stomach clenched, her body tensing and she immediately raised her gun at them, turning her back to Inho who didn’t even flinch. 

"Don’t you get it Y/N ? We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides." He gently put his hands on both of her arms, stepping behind her and looking at her side profile.

Y/N’s grip on the gun tightened, her breath catching. She shook her head sharply, the anger rising in her chest. “No,” she spat, her voice bitter. “You’re not me. You’re a killer. And I don’t care what you say—you’re not going to twist this into something else.”

His smile barely flickered. “Funny. I thought you would understand. The line between right and wrong is thin, Y/N. You kill for your cause, I kill for mine. But in the end, it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, the room spinning for a second. It was true—too true. But she wouldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let herself be like him.

“No,” she repeated, her voice quieter but full of conviction. She took a step back, turning back to look at him, his hands brushing over her sides before leaving her body completely. The weight of the gun in her hand heavy.

This wasn’t what she signed up for, wasn’t what she had worked so hard for. But standing there, facing him, she realized just how dangerous his words were, how much of what he said hit too close to home.

Y/N stood in the doorway, gun still heavy in her hand, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She suddenly raised her gun and pointed it directly at his heart, her finger twitching over the trigger. She had made her choice—at least, that’s what she had thought. The mission. The goal. It all led to this moment. One pull and it would be over. But now, standing in front of him, the room filled with the echoes of her hesitation, the lines between right and wrong blurred in a way she couldn’t ignore anymore.

She had been ready to walk away, ready to follow through, to do what she believed was right. But something inside her faltered, her resolve cracking like ice under pressure. He had been right about one thing—their reflection was too similar. She had spent so much of her life believing that she was the opposite of him, but with every step closer she took toward him, it felt more like she was staring into a mirror she had spent so long trying to avoid.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers, his gaze steady but somehow understanding. “You don’t have to fight it anymore, Y/N. We’re the same. We both do what we believe is necessary. You can either leave, and I will make sure to get you home safely, or you can stay with me and accept the world is a cruel place that can’t be saved.”

Her chest tightened, and despite her efforts to resist, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. There was something in his presence—something that made her feel understood in a way no one else ever had. She hated that it was him, hated that it was this—but she couldn’t deny the pull, the connection, the understanding that went beyond their roles in this twisted game.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. Her breath, his movements, the weight of the gun—everything hung in the balance.

She lowered the weapon, her hands shaking as she realized the truth. She couldn’t walk away from him—not completely. She had tried, had convinced herself that she was different, that she was better, but deep down, she knew they were too alike. Too broken. Too far gone.

“I don’t want to be like you,” she whispered, more to herself than him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“You already are,” he replied softly, but there was no malice in his words—only something darker, something that felt like acceptance.

And in that moment, something shifted inside her. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Her feelings for him, no matter how twisted or complicated, were real. And maybe—just maybe—there was no escaping this dark connection they shared.

She looked up at him. She wasn’t sure if it was love or something darker that pulled her closer, but when she stood in front of him, their eyes locking, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t walking away. She couldn't.

“Stay” he said, his voice barely a whisper, but it held an undeniable weight.

He slowly leaned in and his lips met hers. Y/N didn't move away. She couldn't. She felt interlocked to him in a way she never did with anyone. She left the salty taste of her own tears during the kiss, feeling her heart betraying her own mind.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, looking at each other, two sides of the same broken coin, too entwined to walk away from each other.

The world outside didn’t matter. The game didn’t matter. In that room, at that moment, it was just the two of them. Together. Alike.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

What do you Know? !NSFW!

Word count: 4.061

Content warnings: MDNI; smut, shower sex, angst with a happy ending

Summary: You wake up in Maya's bed after helping her with marketing late at night. But as the months go on, her avoidant and disorganized attachment styles come out along with a job offer from another studio, leaving you to make a life changing decision.

A/N: Hi!! I have officially moved to Miami! I'm still getting settled in, but I have a lot of time to myself this week, so I managed to pop this little oneshot out. Also, AU, Maya doesn't have a son (yet *wink wink*)

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When you accepted the position as Continental Studios’ Director of Creative Affairs, you didn’t expect it to end like this.

When you decided to stay late at work to help marketing with strategy, you didn’t expect it to end like this.

You didn’t expect to be in Maya’s office at almost 12am, lights dimmed, drinks poured, nobody else in the building. You didn’t expect the conversations to turn into anything deep, or anything important.

You expected Maya’s snarky responses–and you got plenty of those. You expected hours of brainstorming, new poster ideas, and boxes of sushi delivered to her desk. What you didn’t expect was lingering touches and whispered confessions.

And you didn’t expect to be waking up in her West Hollywood home, wrapped in her satin sheets and legs tangled with hers.

Her arm is thrown over your waist, a heavy weight that’s oddly comforting. But there’s an ache in your chest that feels like shame, and a dull thumping in your head leftover from the drinks last night. The memories from last night flood back to you—her head between your legs, her nails scratching down your back as you return the favor. 

Oh, fuck.

You think of ways to get yourself out of this situation. If you leave without a word, it’ll make work even more awkward than it already will be today. You look down at her left hand resting against your abdomen—that same hand that brought you to the edge over and over and over again, after you pointed out the two shorter nails. 

“That’s not a stylistic choice, is it?” you had asked her, the third drink of the night hitting you hard. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that.”

But her reaction instilled even more confidence than the alcohol had. Her lips curled into a wicked grin and when she spoke, her voice was low and seductive. “Why don’t you find out?”

You carefully remove Maya’s arm from your waist and sit up slowly. You cringe with each move you make, desperately hoping that she doesn’t wake up. When your feet hit the rug that lays beneath the bed, you bend down to gather the discarded clothes that she tore from your body last night.

You hold the clothes close to your chest and as you tiptoe toward the bathroom, you hear her throat clear. 

“Got somewhere to be?” When you turn around, Maya is resting on her elbow, head in her hand as she grins. “Oh, turn back around, honey. You’ve got a cute ass.”

Your eyes drift to where the sheets have fallen off her bare chest, cheeks going warm before you redirect back up. “I—Um—It’s six. I was just gonna go take a shower…” Your voice is quiet and uncertain, but you take a risk, “…If you’d like to join me.”

Maya gets out of bed and walks over to you, mesmerizing as her hips sway. She looks down at you and brings her hand up to hold your chin. “Well, how could I say no to that face?”

A shower with Maya is never just a shower with Maya. 

The granite shower tiles are cold beneath your soapy back as Maya presses you against the wall. The water runs over you both in a steady stream. Her hands run over your body, lips on yours in a heavy, heated kiss. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe. 

Maya kisses you again. “But isn’t that what makes it fun?”

You gasp as her fingers find your clit, running tight circles on it as her lips skim over your neck. Your nails dig into her hips and you shiver under her touch. 

“Touch me,” she commands, teeth nipping at the base of your ear. 

You let out a gasp followed by a breathy laugh, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Say it again,” she groans, and your fingers slip inside her. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you repeat. Her fingers circle faster, dipping just barely into your entrance before going back up. Your chest heaves and your legs start shaking. “Maya—I’m—Oh, God!”

Her head falls onto the wall beside you, forearm blocking you in completely on the other side. “I know, baby. I—Fuck—!” Her lips crash into yours. It’s messy, with tongues clashing and spit clinging to your lips as the shower water streams down your face. “Cum for me,” she breathes. “Now. Cum for me.”

The sight and feeling of you cumming on her fingers sends her over just moments after you. You hold each other up, panting into each other’s mouths. Your head falls back onto the tile and she presses soft kisses to your neck, being careful to not leave any obvious marks. 

You can feel her inhale sharply, breath tickling the delicate skin of your neck as she groans, “What a way to start the day, hm?” 

What a way, indeed.

“Um…Maya?” In a white towel, you stare at the clothes you wore to work the previous day. “I don’t have any other clothes, and these smell like the vodka you spilled all over me.”

Maya takes your shirt and brings it to her nose, recoiling instantly in disgust. “I wouldn’t let my worst enemy wear that…that’s not true.”

Her walk-in closet is massive—almost the size of your bedroom back at your townhouse. She searches through the racks of clothes, trying to find something that would suit your style more. Eventually, she finds something to your taste and brings it back to the bathroom. 

Maya takes a look at the underwear in your pile of clothes. She bends over, picks them up, and when she stands up straight she examines them as they hang from one finger. “Hm…looks like these are ruined…” She looks at you and grins. “I guess I’ll have to let you borrow a pair of mine.”

You stop breathing as she struts back into the closet. When she’s back, the pair you had are nowhere in sight, and she tosses a pair of black lace panties at you. 

You can feel Maya’s eyes on you as you slip her own underwear on yourself. She sighs, shaking her head, “Just as I thought…you look so much better in them than I do…”

“Maybe you’ll just have to let me keep them,” you shrug.

Maya’s tongue pokes through her cheek and you can see her eyes darken. “Oh, don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” 

With your inebriated state the previous night, both of you left your cars in the Continental Studio reserved parking lot. The Uber Maya orders doesn’t pull up out front though. You’re taken to the back gate entrance.

“Why this way?” you ask.

Maya doesn’t look up from her phone. “Because if those two jackasses see us get out of this car together they’ll immediately jump to conclusions.”

Jump to the right conclusions, you think

That night repeats many, many times. Occasionally it’s at your townhouse, most of the time it’s at her place, though. It’s how Maya destresses.

You knew that after a meeting where she fought with Sal or a director was being a pain in her ass, you’d see that message. Or, if she was feeling risque, she’d come into your office at lunch and murmur in your ear something along the lines of, “I’m getting takeout for dinner tonight, and I would love it if you joined me.” 

Usually the takeout would go cold, and then she’d complain a few hours later when you’re back in the kitchen after “destressing”. And then, while it heats up, she’ll set you down on the counter and have you again as an appetizer.

And you love it in the beginning. 

But the months continue. Fall turns into Winter, and on the horizon of Spring, you’re looking at an offer letter for an executive position at Paramount Studios. 

The door to your shared office opens and Quinn enters. “What’s that?”

You set the letter down on your desk and sigh. “Paramount Studios wants me as their Junior VP of Production.”

“Oh, shit!” Quinn says, her smile bright.

“It’s in their New York division.”

Her smile drops. “Oh, shit.”

You lean back in your chair as Quinn unpacks her lunch and turns on her desktop. “Can I tell you something? You can’t tell anyone else.”

Quinn eyes you suspiciously. “Yeah…?”

“For the past five months…” You hesitate saying the next words and can just barely make eye contact with her. “I’ve been sleeping with Maya.”

Quinn almost chokes on her water. “What?”

You nod.

“How–When–?”

“It was that night when I stayed late to help marketing,” you sigh. “She sent her little minions home, took out a bottle of really expensive vodka from her desk and just kept pouring.”

Quinn stares at the floor, thinking. “I mean, she’s not your superior, so…Isn’t she, like, twenty years older than you?”

“Seventeen, actually,” you say matter-of–factly. Your smile drops and you get quiet. “She’s avoiding me, though. I used to be over at her place like three times a week, or she’d be over at mine. Now she’s not even answering my texts.”

“She’s ghosting you?” Quinn asks.

“Yeah,” you say painfully. “It’s not even ghosting, though. I see her at work five days a week. The last time we spoke was three days ago and it was her asking me what I wanted for the staff catering order.”

“Have you tried asking her about it?” Quinn suggests.

“It’s Maya,” you groan. “She’s not the type for commitment. If I asked her, she’d probably redirect the question.”

Quinn looks at you quizzically, a grin growing on her face. “Do you love her?”

“What?” You scoff, not making eye contact with her.

“Do you love her?” Quinn asks again. “It’s a simple question.”

“I–I mean…” You’re trying to find the right words, but you have no idea if those exist. “I don’t know…”

“Well what do you know?” Quinn asks, taking a bite of her kale salad.

You sigh, begrudgingly answering her question. “I know that her favorite color is red, because it makes her feel the most confident…and that her guilty pleasure music genre is 70’s and early 80’s pop, even though she says her favorite genre is 90’s and 2000’s rap…”

You pause and think, voice going quiet as you continue. “And I know that…she says she’s a dog person, but actually she really wants a cat because her parents never let her get one…and that she already has a name picked out for the cat…” 

You start thinking about the smaller things you’ve noticed over the months. “I know that when she’s super concentrated, her nose scrunches up and she makes duck lips…and that, even though she doesn’t say it, she prefers being the little spoon…and her love language is gift giving and physical touch and…” 

“Quinn…” Your eyes water and you’re desperately trying to hold back your tears. As you start crying, she gets up and crosses the room. You cry into her shoulder as she hugs you tightly. “I hate it. I hate this feeling. I want her so badly, Quinn! I–God, I do love her, and I hate it.”

Days go by as you contemplate the job offer from Paramount. But the only thing you can think about is Maya.

You knock on the glass window of her office door. A quiet ‘Come in’ sounds from the other side and you enter cautiously. When Maya looks up from her computer, she flashes you a soft, almost polite, smile before going back to her work.

“Hi.”

You smile back as you approach her desk. “Hi.”

“What’s up?” She doesn’t look up from her monitor.

You feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be here. Maya seems disinterested and you hesitate when answering her question. “Nothing…Just seeing how you’re doing…We haven’t talked in a bit.”

Maya shrugs, still not looking up from her computer, “Well, I’ve been super busy…If my interns knew how to do their jobs correctly, I might actually have some fuckin’ free time.”

You let out an amused hum, the silence thick and awkward. “Um…Paramount has offered me a Junior VP of Production position.”

“Really?” Maya finally looks up at you.

“Yeah.”

“You’re taking it, right?” she asks, like it's obvious what the answer is.

“Uh–I’ve been mulling it over…”

“What do you mean ‘mulling it over’?” she scoffs. “It’s an i–”

“It’s in the New York division,” you say.

She pauses, “Oh…Well, it’s a really good opportunity. I think you should go. They’d be really lucky to have you.”

“What if I didn’t want to go?” you ask quietly.

“Why would you turn down an opportunity like this?” she scoffs, laughing in a way that feels like she’s mocking you.

“Well, it’s really far from my family,” you shrug, “and I love working here, and…” The words are on your tongue. You’re trying so hard not to say them, but you’re desperate to know the answer. “What are we?”

“What?”

“What are we?” you ask again, “I mean–Am I–Am I just sex to you? Am I just here for when you need to ‘destress’? Is this just a fling?”

“Excuse me?” Maya asks, eyebrows raised in shock.

“We’ve known each other for five years,” you say, voice quiet, almost hurt. “And you don’t even seem fazed that I’m about to move to the other side of the country.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” she snaps. “Don’t go? Stay here?”

“Yes!” you cry.

Maya stands up, her hands on the desk as she leans toward you. “Why would I ever ask you to give up such an amazing opportunity?”

“Maya, I don’t want to leave!” you shout, emotion tightening in your throat. “I don’t want to move across the country! I want…I want you!” Your shoulders drop and your face softens. “But you’ve pulled away from me! You won’t answer my texts! We’ve barely talked in weeks!”

You can see her eyes falter briefly, but her face is stone cold and you can see the stubbornness return. You swallow hard, “And I can’t go back to just being colleagues who get drinks after work and only talk when passing each other in the hall. I don’t want to go, but if you don’t want me anymore…then I will…I’ll go.” 

Maya sits back down, pursing her lips as leans back. “Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, trying to hold your head high.

“Go to New York,” she shrugs, and acts like the whole thing doesn’t matter to her. “I’m not stopping you.”

You can feel your heart break and your voice tightens. “Okay.”

By the end of the day, your resignation letter is printed out and signed. It’s placed on Matt’s desk as you struggle to look at him, your voice quiet as he reads it.

“I really will miss it here,” you say. 

Matt sighs as he drops the letter onto the desk. “Well, we’ll miss you. Five years is a good run. You’re a great executive.” He’s quiet as he thinks. “How much are they offering you?”

“One-fifty,” you answer. “It’s not much more than I was making here, but you know me. I don’t do this for the money–at least, not entirely.

“I’ll give you one-hundred-seventy-five grand a year,” Matt says.

You open and close your mouth, not knowing what to say. “Um–Matt–I…It’s not about the money. It’s a…personal issue. I genuinely enjoy working here, but I just…can’t. I have a meeting with the president of Paramount in New York next Thursday. I’ll be signing my contract then, and I’ll be flying back that night to finish some stuff up here on Friday…and yeah.”

Matt nods carefully and looks at the letter again. “I hope you know that you can always rely on me for a good recommendation. You’re an amazing executive and Paramount will be very lucky to have you.”

Next Wednesday comes quickly. You haven’t heard a word from Maya since that day in her office. You had seen her in meetings and in the hallways–brief glances, tense eye contact–but neither of you spoke a word to each other and it was killing you.

“You’re really leaving, huh?” Quinn watches as you pack up the final items on your side of the shared office.

“Yep.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” she asks. 

You don’t look up as you clean out your desk, “I told you, Quinn. I can’t stay here. I see Maya in the hallway and I wanna…crawl out of my skin.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” she sighs. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you huff, throwing some trinket into a box. 

Quinn scrunches her eyebrows. “Because it’s true…?” She scoffs as she leans back and opens a cup of yogurt. “You’ve worked here for five years. We started here together, you’re one of my closest friends, everyone here loves you. So, of course when you leave to go work in New York City we’re gonna be a little sad.”

__________

A loud knock on the door startles Quinn from her procrastination fanfiction. She gets up and opens the door, meeting Maya with a raised eyebrow. 

“What’s up?”

“I need to talk to her,” Maya says.

“Who?”

Maya’s jaw drops. “Who the fuck do you think?”

“She’s not here,” Quinn shrugs, and opens the door to reveal your empty side of the office.

“Where the fuck is she?” Maya gapes as she stands in the doorway.

“On her way to New York City,” Quinn says, sitting back down at her desk.

“Why?” Maya asks. “It’s Wednesday. Her last day is Friday.”

“She’ll be back tomorrow night, but she has a meeting with Paramount tomorrow morning to sign on.” Quinn waits a beat and then looks up from her computer and adds, “Which you’d know if you bothered talking to her.”

“Oh go back to your Harry Potter fanfiction!” Maya snaps, and slams the door behind her.

She rushes across the second floor, past offices and boardrooms, pushing through groups of gathered interns and assistants until she makes it to Matt's office.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Maya bursts through the office door, in a heated frenzy of anger and frustration. 

“Excuse me?” Matt sputters.

Sal, who’s sitting across from Matt, groans, making a disgusted look as he rolls his head back. “What the fuck do you want, Maya?”

“She is an amazing executive!” Maya shouts at Matt, leaning over his desk and ignoring Sal’s jibe. “She’s helped bring in over 500 million dollars. Directors and producers love her! Jesus Christ, even Griffin fuckin’ doted on her! Why didn’t you try to convince her to stay?”

“I did, she turned them down!” Matt shouts back, defending himself hopelessly as Maya looms over him. “I offered her more money than Paramount was offering, but she insisted it would be for the best. Said something about it being a personal issue. Why do you care?”

A personal issue. There it is.

Maya’s head drops as the room goes silent.

Sal looks at her before connecting the dots. “Seriously? She’s like twenty years younger than you!”

“Hire her back,” Maya demands, and looks Matt directly in the eye.

Matt sighs, “I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will. You know why?” Maya’s voice lowers, and she looks almost amused at the prospects. “Because I’m pretty tight with Patty. And do you know what Patty has? A video of you doing lines of coke off of Ryan Reynolds’s stomach with a one hundred dollar bill at the Oscars after-after-party. And I might accidentally send that to…” Maya bobs her head in contemplation. “Let’s say…Insider? And then that video will spread. And you’ll be asked to resign. And then Sal will be promoted to president, and not to mention, Ryan Reyn–”

“Okay!” Matt cries. “Okay! I’ll hire her back!”

Maya looks back at Sal and then gives Matt a curt nod, standing up to her full height. “Good.”

Maya storms up to your old assistant, who sits at her desk eating lunch. “Let me see her itinerary,” she demands, looming over her.

“I can’t do that.”

“Open her schedule, now!” Maya shouts. “I need to know what time her flight leaves.”

Your assistant opens your schedule quickly and Maya shoves her aside. She scrolls down until she finds the itinerary. “Oh, wow, first class?” she mumbles. She reads over it more and then slams the mouse onto the table. “Fuck! That’s in three hours!”

As she runs out of the building, she frantically searches online for a flight to New York City. Eventually, as she gets into her car, she finds one last seat on the same flight as yours. She cringes as she buys the final $700 first class seat.

LAX is only half an hour away, but with the LA lunch rush, it takes Maya almost fifty. She zippers through traffic in her Black G63–something you always hated her doing. She’s yelling expletives, even honking her horn, and when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she barely recognizes herself.

She’s never done something like this before–never canceled all of her meetings with some of the biggest directors in Hollywood, never driven an hour to the airport to chase down a girl. But at this point, there was no going back. If the contract is signed, she’d never see you again. You’d be lost to the East Coast, 2000 miles away, and working for those snobs at Paramount.

Maya parks crooked in the parking garage. Even in heels she’s running through the airport, and then comes security–undressing all of her layers and taking off her shoes that have way too many zippers to be practical. And she feels naked without her extensive amount of jewelry. 

By the time she’s out, there’s less than an hour until boarding. Maya sprints through the airport, heeled boots draped over her arm and Louis Vuitton bag on her shoulder with her hat and jacket stuffed inside, overflowing over the sides.

Without stopping for a break, she finally sees you at the gate, standing there, arms crossed as you wait for the boarding announcement to be called. There’s less than ten minutes left until boarding. She calls your name. Your head doesn’t turn. But the second time, when you hear your name called by that familiar voice, you snap your head in her direction.

And there she is, face red and her forehead shiny with sweat.

“First class, huh?” She wears that stupid smirk she always does when she tries to tease you, but there’s something breaking.

Your jaw clenches, and you’re trying to keep your cold composure. “Paramount paid for the travel fees. What are you doing here?”

“Don’t go.”

“What?” Your shoulders drop. You see the knee-high boots draped over her arm, her jacket stuffed in her purse, wearing no jewelry and the fact that she’s here, at the gate, past security.“Wait, did you buy a plane ticket?”

“Yes,” she says. “Don’t go.”

“Maya–”

She huffs, “Listen, I’m not good at this. I never have been. Shit gets real and I…” Her hands rub over her face in frustration, but when they drop, she looks exhausted. “I don’t know what I do, but it isn’t good.”

“I’ve already turned in my resignation. I have a meeting with Paramount tomorrow morning,” you say, voice quiet.

Maya closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath, “Matt will hire you back. He’ll double your salary, more benefits, more creative input on projects, your own office. Please. Don’t go. They don’t–I don’t want you to leave.”

“Maya–”

“I love you,” she blurts out. “And I know you. And if you go to Paramount New York you’ll be miserable.”

“You love me?” you mumble.

Maya lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yes! Please, don’t go.”

There’s a boarding call for first class and you turn your head to look at the terminal. You swallow the emotion stuck in your throat and when you look back up at Maya, there’s only one thing you can do. You drop your bag onto the ground and wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her down and crashing your lips into hers.

“Don’t go,” she breathes. “Please.”

Your hands hold her face close. “I won’t,” you say, and kiss her again. “I love you.” You kiss her again. When you pull away her eyes are dark and you can see tears forming in her waterline. You take a deep breath, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[hanasnx]

Not trying to snatch anon bodyguard!Jason idea. But totally just hit me with an idea. I feel like it would work really well with Nightwing/Dick x reader more. You're an important witness in this case his been working for months now. There are a few weeks before they need your testimony, so he keeps a close eye on you. It's so stupid. Horrible idea to get involved. You both know it. Yet here you are, the night before, in your apartment. Making stupid choices. Trying to 'calm" your nerves. I'm not sure what the kink would be though sorry >_<..

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” you breathe, barely a second of time to speak before your lips are recaptured and your words are swallowed. NIGHTWING drawls a low hum in response, as if your confession sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. His hand at the back of your head keeps you close, angling your necks to deepen the kiss. Thighs on either side of his hips, you may be on top but you don’t feel in charge. His other palm slides down your bare heated skin to cup your backside, rocking your open pussy over the velvety shaft of his cock. The pressure of it lays its head against his abdomen, and a perfect little circle of pre-cum dots his happy trail. Pleasantly, you sigh through your nose, and you break away for more oxygen.

“Yeah, it’s bad idea.” he agrees, but you’ve already forgotten what you’d said, waving it off while your body takes action, chasing that delicious feeling of friction. Your hips follow his guidance while you clutch onto his shoulders. “You look so pretty like this…” he muses, a dimpled smile stretching on his handsome features, and you try to ignore the domino mask he still wears to protect his identity—he’s shown you everything else.

“I’m just a little nervous-” you confide, “-about tomorrow. Don’t you wanna help your star witness?”

You bite down onto your bottom lip and surge a little too far forward, his tip instantly seeking out the give of your sex. Two hands fly to your ass, picking you up with strength that makes your knees weaken. “Oh, careful,” he gasps with feigned concern, “wouldn’t wanna slip in.”

Everything in you is screaming for him to slip it in, but apparently the famous Nightwing needs a lot of foreplay to prove that you want it.

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Reply All (H.S. Fic) | Chapter 1

General Masterlist fratboy!harry x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N and Harry were childhood best friends, inseparable through every laugh, secret, and growing pain. But high school brought unspoken feelings and decisions that tore them apart, leaving both with unanswered questions. Years later, a class project challenges them to face their shared past and uncover the truths they’ve both been running from. And a wrong click unveils the past and what will be the future. A/n: omggg my first series!!! i'm so so so excited for this one, i literally wrote this sooo fast cause i was soooo excited! i hope you all like this too! let me know any feedback you may have. Thanks to my one and only @eileenrry for being my designated proof reader 💖 Word count: 3.4k Warnings: This part has a lot of angst, and the series WILL HAVE smut, so +18 (not on this part tho). Mentions of alcohol, smoking, betrayal.

“Do you want to sit with me?” Said a soft voice, tiny, cutest at it’s best. Your tiny hands were clenched around the straps of your oversized backpack, and even though you were small too, everything around you felt impossibly big—the chairs, the poster boards on the wall, the toys lined up in the back of the room. You felt like the smallest, quietest flea. You weren’t the kind to make noise; you liked to keep to yourself, tucked safely behind your mother’s legs, where the world couldn’t quite reach you.

So when your parents sat you down and said you’d be moving to another city, the world tilted. Everything became a blur of cardboard boxes and goodbyes. You had to choose which plushies to keep, which ones to let go—and somehow, even at that age, you knew those choices mattered. You were so young, but you remember it like it was yesterday. Not just because it was the first time life ever truly scared you, but because it was also the beginning of something. Because that’s how you met Harry.

So when that tiny voice said, “Do you want to sit with me?” you turned your head and saw him—a curly-haired boy with big green eyes and lashes so long they looked like they’d been painted on. He was just looking at you, calm and curious. And all you could do was nod and take the empty seat beside him.

His table was a mess of color and chaos—crayons scattered everywhere, a pencil poorly sharpened on both ends, and an eraser that had once been white but was now stained with every color imaginable. His workbook lay open, half-filled with scribbles and drawings, and across the top in big, uneven letters, it read: Harry.

“Y/N,” you whispered, barely louder than a breath, unsure if he even heard you.

He glanced up, then gave a small nod and a crooked smile. He didn’t say anything, but it was enough. He seemed a little shy too—not as much as you, of course—but just enough to make you feel like maybe you weren’t alone.

🌷

Shy questions turned into giggles soon enough. It turned out you had more in common than you ever expected—both from different cities, both fans of mixing vanilla and strawberry ice cream, and both a little hopeless at math. It was the kind of quiet connection that didn’t need much explaining; it just was.

"Can you lend me the pink crayon?" he asked, eyes focused on the page in front of him, carefully coloring inside the lines of his workbook.

"No," you said, without hesitation.

He looked up, clearly offended. "Why not?"

You shrugged, holding the crayon a little closer. "Because it’s my favorite one."

He blinked at you for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to be mad—then smiled like he’d just learned something important about you.

🌷 The class pictures from the early years of middle school began to pile up, slowly forming a little bundle alongside birthday snapshots and silly, candid moments. What once were debates over whether dolls were better than dinosaurs had turned into whispered promises of being best friends forever.

There was a problem with that. It was called high school—or maybe it was called hormones, or growing up, or feelings, or the chaos of social interactions. It was trying alcohol for the first time, coughing behind Harry’s house after taking a sip that burned too much. It was wheezing with laughter after trying a cigarette he somehow managed to swipe from an old lady at the bus stop.

There were countless school dances where the two of you showed up as best friends—even when a girl got the courage to ask Harry, and he politely turned her down. It was like a secret everyone knew, yet somehow, not fully spoken. Something unconfirmed, but undeniable. You two were untouchable in the eyes of the rest of the school—not in a popular, flashy way, but in a quiet, unbreakable one. No one ever teased you about being a couple, but, They knew. Harry knew.

You? You were a bit oblivious.

And then it happened—at a definitely not parent-supervised party—your first kiss. His first kiss. But not with each other.

"Y/N! Your turn!" called Aria —the redheaded girl who, after Harry, was the one you trusted most. She was the one you talked to about period stuff, what to wear, the latest makeup trends, and gossip about the newest hot celebrity.

You looked at the bottle spinning in front of you. Classic. You weren’t even sure why you agreed to join the game in the first place—but then again, most teenagers don’t really know why they say yes to things at parties. Especially when alcohol is disguised as “Just flavored water, Dad, I swear.”

The bottle spun in what felt like slow motion—maybe because of the flavored water in the red cup you were holding, or maybe because you were too busy scanning the circle, trying to figure out which of the guys would be the least awful choice for your first kiss. Of course, there was Harry—though at the time, you were completely oblivious to how nervous he looked. You wouldn’t have minded kissing him; actually, in the roulette spinning inside your head, he was your first choice. But not because you wanted to kiss him—more like, because you really didn’t want to kiss any of the others.

When the bottle finally stopped, the tip pointed at Phil. You gave a small, nervous smile. Not because it was Phil. Not even because it wasn’t Harry. Just because it was your first kiss. And as the group broke into a chorus of “oooh!”s, you leaned in and had it—your first kiss.

It was short. Dry. No spark. Just a kiss.

And kind of the same thing happened with Harry.

When it was his turn, the bottle also seemed to spin in slow motion—at least for you. Your brain kicked into the same overthinking mode, running through the roulette of girls he could possibly kiss. The only one you didn’t mind was Ivy—the shy new girl who was moving away soon, so it didn’t really matter in the long run. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath until the bottle landed on her, and you exhaled quietly, telling yourself it was fine.

What you didn’t stop to question was why you’d been thinking all of that. Or why your chest felt tight and hot with jealousy when you watched Harry lean in and press his lips to Ivy’s.

It was quick. Innocent. But still, it stung.

After the kiss, Harry didn’t even glance at Ivy. He looked straight at you. And you looked right back, both of you smiling—soft, uncertain. No words needed. At this time it was like you both telepathically communicated. The OMG we just had our first kisses. It was written all over your faces.

As time passed and 10th year rolled around, everything seemed pretty normal between the two of you—or at least, you thought it was. Nothing about Harry felt off. Nothing seemed different. Until that one Math class.

"The next assignment will be in pairs. Choose and write your names on this list on your way out," the teacher announced. The classroom erupted in whispers and shifting chairs as everyone scanned the room for their ideal partner. But you didn’t even glance around—you didn’t need to. You and Harry were always partners. Always. It was just a given.

But then, you heard his voice beside you. Heard the sound of his finger tapping on Theo’s shoulder in front of him. And then the words that made your stomach twist.

"Do you want to be partners?" Harry asked.

Theo looked just as confused as you felt. He even glanced back at you for a second, like he was waiting for some kind of explanation. But you had nothing to offer—your face mirrored his.

"Uh… yeah?" Theo replied, hesitant.

"Perfect. I’ll text you after school," Harry said with a shrug, already moving on.

You sat there, mouth slightly open, heart racing with that slow, creeping sting of being blindsided.

"What was that?" you asked.

"What was what?" he said, feigning innocence—but you knew him too well. He knew exactly what he did.

"Why did you ask Theo? What about me?"

He shrugged again. "What about you?"

"What—Harry, we’re always partners."

"I know… it’s just..." He sighed. "We’re both kinda bad at math, and I figured I should pair with someone who can, you know… help me out a bit."

You stared at him. That wasn’t the truth. Not fully. You knew it. You felt it.

But the clock was ticking, and you didn’t have time to process it—let alone find a partner who wasn’t a complete disaster. So you swallowed it. The confusion. The hurt. The shift. And kept moving.

You tried to brush it off the first time. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. But then it happened again. And again. And again. Then he transferred to different classes entirely. Each time came with the same excuse: “I’m just trying new things.” You questioned him—of course you did. Over and over. But it was all nonsense. Every conversation either turned into a fight or ended with one of his hollow, careless excuses.

So you stopped. You decided not to waste any more time chasing someone who clearly didn’t want to be caught.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. Him sitting at different tables during lunch? Level 1. Choosing other people for group assignments? Not answering your texts? Level 2. Taking a completely different route home just to avoid walking with you? Level 3. Laughing—no, giggling—like he was having the time of his life with people who weren’t you? Level 4.

There were tears. So many tears. And there were questions. A constant, suffocating loop of them. Was it something I said? Something I did? Was I a bad friend? But no answer ever came. Just more silence. And more tears.

You weren’t technically alone. You had other friends. But you didn’t have Harry. You didn’t have the one who could read you with a glance. The one who could sense your mood from just the tone of your “hello” in the morning. You didn’t have the one you wanted.

Harry wasn’t there anymore. Not for the 3 a.m. calls when you couldn’t sleep. Not to debrief the daily drama. Not to groan through math class or whisper jokes behind textbooks. And worst of all…As time passed, he wasn’t there for your first heartbreak. He wasn’t there for prom. He wasn’t there to hold your hand when you both tossed the graduation caps into the sky.

He was gone.

🌷

It wasn’t really a surprise when you both looked up and locked eyes in the same introductory group on the first day of college.

Neither of you had talked about which colleges you were applying to. Neither of you knew what the other wanted. Because by then, communication had been reduced to absolutely nothing—0%. Silence and space had taken over. So no, it wasn’t exactly shocking when you ended up in the same college. Same career path. Same group. Because the truth was—you’d always been similar.

You’d dreamed similar dreams. Wanted similar things. And no matter how hard you tried not to be, you were always pulled in by each other’s gravity. Even if you didn’t want to admit it. Even if you swore you were over it. Even if you told yourself it didn’t matter anymore.

There he was. Harry.

And suddenly, the air between you was thick with everything unspoken.

Either of you could’ve asked to transfer. Changed groups. Switched classes. Taken the easy way out.

But neither of you did.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was the silent, mutual attempt to prove there was nothing left between you. That you were both mature enough. That you could handle being around each other. Just classmates. Just two people, casually coexisting in the same space.

But the truth?

The truth was that something deeper—something neither of you could name or admit—was keeping you both exactly where you were. You swore it was you just being mad but maybe there was a kind of magnetic pull that wasn’t strong enough to bring you together, but just strong enough to keep you from walking away.

You didn’t even tried to talk to him, or even look at him, always avoiding as much as you could, 

Your roommate, Juliet, noticed it from day one. The way your entire posture shifted when Harry entered the room. And of course, how you never actually looked at him, not for longer than a blink.

Juliet was bold, blunt, and had a talent for digging into things you weren’t ready to unearth.

“You two have history,” she said one night, cross-legged on her bed, spooning peanut butter out of the jar like it was therapy. “You don’t flinch like that for someone you barely know.”

You rolled your eyes. “We used to be friends. That’s all.” not even bothering to look up from the book in your hands

“Right,” she said, dragging the word out like it had a hundred letters. “And I ‘used to be’ a vegetarian”

She didn’t let it go. She was always trying to get you to talk to him. “Just say hi like a human,” she’d whisper. Or “What’s the worst that could happen? You explode?”

But she didn’t know the weight of it all. She didn’t know that silence between you and Harry wasn’t empty—it was loaded. History, hurt, heartbreak—all packed into every glance, every ignored moment.

Still, Juliet was relentless. And part of you—maybe the part that still remembered how it felt to laugh with him—was kind of glad she was. Beneath all that pain and being mad at it, there he was your Harry, your best friend.

You stopped going to college parties. At first, it was subtle. A few “maybe next time”s.A couple of “I have a headache”s. But Juliet caught on fast.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” she said one Friday night, standing in front of a mirror, fixing her hair while you curled up under your blanket like it was a shield. “You’re not going because of him, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Because the idea of walking into a room and locking eyes with Harry—of pretending you didn’t notice each other, or worse, pretending you were fine—made your stomach twist.

“I just don’t want it to be awkward,” you muttered.

Juliet scoffed. “It’s college. Everything’s awkward. You think Harry’s out there dancing on tables and living his best life?” She paused. “He never goes either, you know.”

That made you sit up and frown “What?”

“I’ve literally never seen him at a single party. Not even the ones his friends throw,” she said. “You two are like magnets repelling each other, except you’re both convinced the other one wants nothing to do with you.”

You stayed quiet, but her words stuck. Because you hadn’t considered that maybe—just maybe—he was avoiding it too. Not because he didn’t want to see you… But because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Of course it was. He was Harry.

That realization didn’t make things easier. It just made your heart ache in a different way.

🌷

It was just another Thursday. Gray skies outside the window, students half-asleep in their chairs, laptops open but barely touched. You were already zoning out when Professor Merrick’s voice cut through the hum of the classroom.

“For your next assignment,” she said, tapping a stack of handouts on her desk, “you’ll be creating a personal narrative. Think of it as storytelling with a purpose—an exploration of the moments that have shaped you.”

You blinked. “What kind of moments?” someone asked from the back.

“Anything that’s changed you,” Merrick replied. “A loss. A revelation. A success story. A moment of heartbreak or clarity. Something real. Something raw.”

A collective groan passed through the room.

“And,” she added, lips twitching into the faintest smile, “you may do it solo, or… in pairs. Your choice. But if you choose to work with someone, the project must reflect both stories—how they intersect, mirror, or clash.”

You felt your stomach drop. This was the kind of assignment you hated. Not because you couldn’t do it, but because you could. You had too much material. And you knew exactly what your story would be… if you were brave enough to tell it. You didn’t look at Harry, who sat two rows across and one seat behind. But you could feel him. That weird awareness that never really went away.

Juliet leaned over, whispering, “You’re doing it solo, right?”

“Obviously,” you whispered back, already scribbling ideas down just to look busy.

But still, your heart thudded louder than before. Because even if you hadn’t looked at Harry, he had looked at you.

Professor Merrick began passing the handouts down each row, but you barely glanced at the paper when it reached your desk. The words blurred together—“personal narrative,” “emotional depth,” “authentic voice”—all sounding a little too close to home.

“As always,” she said, stepping back in front of the board, “I’ll be sending the full assignment details to your emails this evening. Requirements, due dates, guidelines—all there. This is not just about writing well. It’s about honesty. And trust me, I’ll know when it’s not real.” A low murmur rippled through the class again.

“You have until Monday to choose whether you’re working solo or with someone. If you pick a partner, let me know by then. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re flying solo.” She smiled faintly, but there was something knowing in her expression.  Like she enjoyed watching students squirm under the weight of their own unspoken stories.

“Alright, that’s all for today. Class dismissed.”

Chairs scraped the floor as people stood up, stretching and groaning. You shoved the handout into your bag without a second glance.

Juliet nudged you as you walked out. “Maybe this is your sign.”

You frowned. “Sign for what?”

She raised an eyebrow. “To tell the story you’ve been dying not to tell.”

You didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed your mind. And because behind you, Harry was still sitting at his desk, staring at the same sheet of paper you hadn’t read either.

🌷

Days later, you were curled up on your bed, laptop perched on your knees, the soft hum of lo-fi music playing from your phone. The Word document on your screen was still blank—just a blinking cursor mocking you, waiting for the first sentence that refused to come.

You had typed and deleted the same line four different times. Nothing sounded right. Nothing felt right. Your story was too tangled. 

And then, like some cruel joke, your email pinged.

New Message: STORYTELLING PROJECT CLASS 305 — Personal Narrative From: Harry Styles To: Class 305

You stared at the subject line, confused. You hadn’t spoken in weeks—not even a polite nod in the hallway. Why would he be—

Then you clicked.

And everything shifted.

The message wasn’t meant for you. It wasn’t meant for the whole class. It was clearly written for one person—Noah. He was asking if Noah would be his partner, saying he didn’t want to do the project alone.

“I was thinking of writing about losing my best friend. Her name’s Y/N. She’s also in the class. I was in love with her. I never told her. I pushed her away because I thought if I kept my distance, the feelings would fade. But they didn’t. I made it worse, got out of my hands, I lost her anyway. But of course i can’t mention her name or make it too obvious it’s about her so i figured i could use a partner to help”

Your heart stopped. Again.

“Anyway, It was my fault. I thought I was protecting something, but I ended up breaking it. I don’t know if your story’s anything like that. Just figured I’d ask. Also, can I get your number?”

You sat frozen. For a second, your brain refused to process what your eyes had read. The story. The feelings. The name. Your name.

And then you realized it—he had clicked Reply All. You weren’t supposed to see this. No one in the class was supposed to see this.

You blinked, staring at your screen in disbelief, heart pounding loud in your chest. It was like someone had dropped a confession straight into your lap, and now you didn’t know what to do with it.Because the problem wasn’t that Harry had sent it everyone

The problem was…Everything in it was true. PART 2

Taglist: @hermionelove

[ckret2]

Chapter 76 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it. 

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not. 

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!" 

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We're inedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know." 

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

 The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)

[yeostinys]

Cry For Me (Sequel)

Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, Angst, light fluff

Notes: Dacryphilia (y/n is a major cry baby), mentions of cheating (don’t do it yall, this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (please wrap it up, don’t do this irl), oral sex (f & m receiving), masturbation, explicit language.

Word Count: 15k

Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.

Pt. 1 | Pt. 3 (surpriseeeeee)

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You awoke to the bright morning sun streaming through the curtains of an unfamiliar room, its warmth illuminating the space in soft golden hues. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they did, you noticed the serene figure beside you—Hongjoong, peacefully asleep, his dark hair tousled and his lips slightly parted. His arms draped possessively over your waist, anchoring you to the bed. A rush of memories from the night before flooded your mind, igniting sensations that sent a thrill down your spine: the electric brush of his fingers against your skin, the roughness of his lips capturing yours, and the way he had filled you so perfectly.

Turning your gaze, you caught sight of the clock on the nightstand.

7:30 AM.

Your work shift starts soon. However, your boss who should be waiting for you in the office… is next to you, in his bed.

You stared up at the ceiling, lost in contemplation. Thoughts spiraled in your mind, revisiting the recent choices that had brought you to this moment. Your relationship with Siwoo had been stagnant, filled with a heaviness that had begun to suffocate you. You couldn’t ignore the truth any longer: you wanted to explore whatever was blossoming between you and Hongjoong. But the boundaries of professionalism loomed large, a constant reminder of the risks you were about to take.

After sending that weighty text message to Siwoo last night—declaring your choice to end things—you had shut your phone off, unwilling to hear his response. Besides, you were too occupied being entangled with Hongjoong on his massive plush bed. Now, as you lay there, a part of you hesitated, fearing the truth that awaited in those unread messages.

With a quiet sigh, you turned your gaze back to Hongjoong, letting your thoughts drift to the perfect features of his face. Your heart tightened at the memory of his confession, the vulnerability he had shown you last night. You couldn't deny the growing affection blossoming within you. Deep down, you felt certain that Hongjoong truly cared for you, and the thought sent warmth coursing through your veins. You wanted to care for him, too.

You tried to carefully move yourself from his embrace. But just as you began to shift, his hand shot out, gripping your arm gently yet firmly. You gasped, surprised by his sudden awareness.

“Where are you going?” His morning voice was raspy. He cracked open one eye, peering at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Oh—back to my place…” you stammered, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “I have work in an hour…”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened as he tugged you closer, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Hm, you just slept with your boss, and you’re still trying to be on time. How cute,” he teased, the glint in his eye making your heart race even faster.

Your embarrassment mingled with a rush of excitement, a chaotic blend of fear and exhilaration flooding your senses.

“I—It’s just… you have an important meeting today to finalize a project… sir…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Hongjoong let out a heavy sigh, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and understanding. He shifted, his body hovering over yours, his presence both comforting and overwhelming.

“Y/N, I know last night was unexpected, but please don’t act like nothing happened,” he said softly, his gaze searching your face for any sign of clarity.

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks, unsure how to respond. Nodding seemed like the safest option, even as your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Confusion tangled with a yearning to voice your concerns, but the words eluded you.

“Let’s go. Let me get ready, and then I’ll take you to your house. We can head to work together,” Hongjoong suggested, shifting away and rising from the bed. The sight of him slipping on a pair of boxers stirred a mix of emotions inside you—desire, worry, uncertainty.

“Hongjoong… won’t it look suspicious if we arrive at work together?” You pulled the sheets around your waist, as you sat up. The question lingered in the air, a nagging worry that tugged at your thoughts.

He turned around to face you. His hands resting on his hips as he looks at your figure.

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” he asked, his voice a blend of amusement and sincerity. He walks back to you and sits on the mattress.

“You’re my secretary, Y/N,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “If you’re worried, we can say we had an early meeting.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss that sent a wave of warmth surging through you, deepening the conflict brewing within.

“You don’t have to worry about what anyone says. If anyone tries to talk about us, or if they say anything about you, I’ll handle it. I can just fire them,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your cheek, each word a promise that lingered in the air.

“Hongjoong, that’s not…” The weight of reality pressed down on you, and suddenly, emotions surged like a tidal wave, overwhelming and intense. Tears spilled down your cheeks, their warmth shocking you as they traced paths down your skin.

“Hey…” His voice softened, a mix of surprise and concern lacing his words. “Baby. Talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He cradled your cheeks, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell.

“I want to be with you, Hongjoong… I just feel like I’ve crossed a line, like I’ve broken our professionalism,” you confessed, your voice trembling, each word laced with the weight of your turmoil.

“Y/N, I was the one who broke those boundaries,” he replied, lifting your chin so that your eyes met his. “I took that risk and chose to pursue you.” His gaze bore into yours, earnest and unwavering.

“I think I may have acted too hastily last night,” you softly say, the admission tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “I need time.”

“Time for what, baby?” Hongjoong’s voice dropped to a whisper, concern etched across his features as his heart clenched at your words.

“To fix my situation… Siwoo will probably want an explanation after I left him over text…” you murmured, feeling the weight of your choices settle heavily upon you. Hongjoong’s expression shifted, determination mixed with something deeper as he absorbed your words.

“Y/N, he doesn’t need an explanation—” Hongjoong began, but he stopped himself, recognizing the urgency in your eyes. He dropped his hands from your face, respecting your need for space.

“Hongjoong… I know he doesn’t. But I just can’t handle it that way. I want to do this right—for my own sake,” you said, struggling to project confidence even as your heart trembled.

“I want to be with you, Hongjoong. Just let me figure this out first. When I’m ready, I promise I’ll come to you… please?” The sincerity in your plea hung in the air, thick with unspoken promises and lingering desires.

Hongjoong took a moment to absorb your words, his heart heavy with understanding. It was one of the many reasons he fell for you—your morals, your commitment to doing what felt right. A part of him scolded himself for putting you in this position, for effortlessly having you succumbed to his advances, leading you to break your own morals. Yet, another part of him reveled in the power he held over you, a power that felt intoxicating, even as he recognized the gravity of your emotions.

The way you had responded to him, almost as if he could mold you to fit his desires. But the weight of that power was a double-edged sword, and he felt the sharpness of it cut deep. He knew that despite his influence, the power you held over him was immeasurable. It was your strength, your conviction, that grounded him and made him strive to be better. In that moment of clarity, he realized that he wanted to support you, to stand by your side as you navigated your feelings and decisions. He would never want to jeopardize the morals you held dear. No, he wanted to be the reason you felt empowered, not the reason you felt conflicted. The dynamic between you was complex, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.

Hongjoong understood that while he could push boundaries, it was ultimately your choices that mattered most. He longed for a connection that honored both of your strengths, one built on mutual respect and love. And as he sat there contemplating, he made a silent vow to always cherish and protect the heart of the woman he adored.

“If he hurts you, I will kill him,” Hongjoong whispered, his voice low and intense as he leaned in to kiss you deeply. When he pulled away, he brushed away a lingering tear with a gentle finger, his gaze unwavering.

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling deep within you, grounding you amid the chaos.

“Let me get ready,” he said, rising from the bed and walking toward the door, the moment hanging heavy with unspoken feelings. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the promise of what was yet to come.

———

Arriving at your apartment, you unbuckle the seatbelt in Hongjoong’s car, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. You turn to him, your heart racing slightly.

“You can come inside if you want…” you offer. A soft smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face as he nods. Together you make your way to your front door, the atmosphere quiet and contemplative.

“I’m going to shower real quick. Please make yourself comfortable,” you say softly, a hint of nervousness in your tone.

“Of course,” he replies, his smile warm as he watches you disappear into the bathroom.

Left alone, Hongjoong takes a moment to explore your space. He glances around, taking in the photos that line the walls—memories frozen in time, each image a glimpse into your life. His eyes fall on a particular picture of you and Siwoo, both smiling widely, captured in a moment of joy. A scoff escapes him; the image feels like a reminder of a life you were ready to leave behind. Hongjoong’s jaw tightens as he rolls his eyes, a deep breath escaping his lips. He knows the complexity of this situation, the emotional fallout from your two-year relationship weighing heavily on both of you. He sighs softly, you made him feel things he hadn’t anticipated, he wants you all to himself. But he knew he had to be patient, to respect the delicate balance of your emotions.

After your shower, you change into fitted slacks and a sleek black buttoned blouse. You quickly do your regular routine of getting ready for the day, not wanting to make Hongjoong wait any longer. As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up with notifications, and your stomach sinks. Fifty missed alerts from Siwoo stare back at you, an overwhelming wave of dread washing over. You can’t bring yourself to open them, so you quickly shove your phone into your purse.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you make your way to find Hongjoong. “I’m ready,” you announce, and he rises from the couch.

“Let’s go,” he says, with a soft smile.

——

Inside the car, the air was thick with tension, broken only by the relentless vibrations of your phone. Each buzz felt like a persistent reminder of the chaos you were trying to escape.

“Y/N, you should to respond to him,” Hongjoong said, his voice low and authoritative as he kept his eyes fixed on the road. There was an edge to his tone that made it clear he wasn’t asking.

You turned to him, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze.

“Or at least see what he wants. The constant buzzing is getting on my nerves,” he added, a teasing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, but there was an undercurrent of impatience that betrayed his facade.

Feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, you muttered an apology and reached for your phone, heart racing. The screen illuminated your notifications, messages that you were too afraid to read fully. You hesitated, the anxiety coiling tighter in your chest, and ultimately decided against opening them in front of Hongjoong. Instead, you switched your phone to sleep mode, the screen darkening as you tried to suppress the turmoil within.

“What did he say?” Hongjoong’s tone remained steady as he parked the car.

“Ah, nothing,” you replied. You forced a smile, though it felt fragile, ready to shatter under the weight of his scrutiny.

Hongjoong’s eyebrow arched, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. He didn’t want to pry, but he couldn’t help but be bothered by the way he felt about this situation. You were vulnerable, and that stirred something possessive in him. He wanted to shield you from Siwoo and anyone else who dared to threaten your peace. That selfish part of him yearned for you—wanting you to be his, wholly and completely.

As the silence stretched between you, he realized he was wrestling with his own desires. It was a delicate balance: the urge to be there for you and the fear of pushing too hard, of making you feel rushed or pressured. He could live with the selfishness, as long as it meant you remained in his life. But for the sake of you. He tries to calm himself down. And with that, you two exit the car, making your way up to the building.

———

You tried to navigate the busy day as normally as possible, accompanying Hongjoong to his meetings, organizing his schedule, and tackling the last-minute tasks that piled up on your desk. With each passing hour, you appreciated the way he mirrored your efforts, striving to keep things as routine as he could. It was clear that he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable, that he respected your choices, even as the weight of your situation lingered between you.

During a brief moment of respite, you found yourself lingering in the coffee room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee swirling around you as you stared at your phone. Finally, after much hesitation, you decided to confront the flood of messages from Siwoo. Anxiety tightened its grip on your chest as you opened the thread.

Siwoo:

- What do you mean you want to break up?

- You can’t just leave like that without an explanation.

- Do you know who you’re dealing with?

- After everything I have done for you, this is really low of you.

- Answer my calls, Y/N.

- Where are you?

The list went on, each message a reminder of the turmoil you were trying to escape. A sudden wave of emotion washed over you, threatening to spill over as you fought to hold back tears. You didn’t want to make a scene, not here, not now. Taking a deep breath, you inhaled slowly, releasing it in a heavy sigh that echoed your internal struggle.

With shaky fingers, you finally mustered the courage to respond.

Y/N: Can we meet after my shift? I get off early today.

You hesitated, the thought of confronting Siwoo in person filling you with dread. You didn’t want to hash this out over the phone, not when everything felt so raw. Almost instantly, your phone buzzed with his reply.

Siwoo: That’s fine. But what took you so long to reply? I’ve been trying to reach you.

Y/N: Sorry, I had a long day yesterday and fell asleep.

A pang of guilt shot through you as you typed the words, a familiar shame settling in your stomach. But it felt necessary; a protective barrier between you and the storm that was Siwoo’s jealousy. You knew that he had a tendency toward aggression when provoked, and you wanted to avoid igniting that fury. Deep down, you understood that your choice to be unfaithful had been wrong. Yet, it felt equally wrong to ignore how Siwoo had broken your trust long before you ever crossed that line.

As you placed your phone back on the counter, the gravity of your situation pressed heavily against your chest.

As you make your way back to your desk, the weight of the afternoon’s distractions clings to you. You try to immerse yourself in work, pouring over spreadsheets and memos, but your mind is a relentless storm, swirling with thoughts that refuse to be silenced.

“Y/N?” The soft, familiar voice breaks through your reverie. You look up to find Hongjoong standing before you, an easy confidence in his stance that sets your heart racing. The mere sight of him sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks. You can’t help but wish you could just leap into his arms and escape the world outside.

“Yes, Sir?” you respond, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“I have a few files I need you to look over. Please follow me to my office,” he says, his tone calm yet inviting. You nod, swallowing the fluttering excitement in your chest, and fall in step behind him as he leads you down the hallway to his office.

Once inside, he strides to his desk and powers up his computer. The soft hum of machinery fills the room as he pulls out his chair and gestures for you to sit. Your brow furrows in confusion.

“You want me to sit in your chair, sir?” you ask, surprised.

“Yes, Y/N. Just so you can clearly see the concerns I have,” he chuckles lightly, his laughter sending a thrill through you. You hesitate, then shift into his chair, acutely aware of his presence behind you.

Hongjoong leans closer, his arm brushing against your shoulder as he maneuvers the cursor on the screen. “So this right here needs some adjustment…” he explains, his eyes focused intently on the monitor. You try to absorb his words, but the closeness of him—a solid warmth behind you—makes it difficult to concentrate.

Desperately shaking off your swirling thoughts, you force your gaze back to the screen. Hongjoong continues to highlight various aspects of the files, his voice steady and authoritative. You can’t help but look at him, captivated by how he maintains his professionalism despite the tension that lingers in the air between you. His features are striking—his nose perfectly sculpted, skin flawless, and lips plush and inviting.

Caught in the moment, you lean in, a sudden impulse driving you, and press your lips against his. The kiss is deep and electric, a bold confession that silences him mid-sentence. As you pull away, realization crashes over you, and your eyes widen in shock. Hongjoong mirrors your surprise

shock and amusement flickering in his eyes.

“S—sorry…” you stammer, heat flooding your face as you quickly turn your gaze away, mortified by your impulsive action.

“God, Y/N, don’t make this harder for me,” Hongjoong replies, a smirk creeping across his lips. He closes his eyes briefly, as if to collect himself, then spins the chair around so you’re facing him directly. You feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, and you instinctively try to hide your face in your hands.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly, his voice low and steady. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. He’s watching you with a soft smirk, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes—a mixture of amusement and longing.

“Don’t tease me like that, or I will deal with Siwoo myself,” he adds, his tone shifting slightly, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful demeanor. Your stomach twists at the mention of Siwoo, a lingering source of tension between you two.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders. You glance down, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

“Hongjoong…” you say softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness of the room. The weight of the moment hangs in the air, charged with the unspoken feelings swirling between you.

“Hm?” he hums, glancing over at you, his expression curious, almost playful.

You take a moment, searching for the right words to express the confusion that has been gnawing at you. “I don’t know why you make me do these types of things I don’t normally do…” Your voice trails off, the vulnerability of your admission leaving you feeling exposed.

A soft chuckle escapes him, and you feel a flutter in your stomach at the sound. “What do you mean, baby?” he asks, his smirk is soft as he takes in the sight of your flustered face, the way your cheeks flush with color.

You look down, suddenly shy under his gaze, but you force yourself to continue. “You… make me do impulsive things without even telling me to. I don’t know why,” you finally admit, your heart racing as the words leave your lips.

His eyes darken slightly as he licks his lips, a lingering gaze settling on your mouth. “You and me both, baby,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, but with an edge of sincerity that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can process his words, Hongjoong leans down, closing the space between you with a magnetic pull. His lips capture yours once again, warm and inviting, a gentle urgency igniting within you. The kiss deepens, erasing any lingering doubts as you melt into him, surrendering to the moment.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the connection—the world outside fading away until it’s just the two of you, caught in a cocoon of shared desires and unspoken understanding. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, anchoring you as you lean into him, your heart racing with every brush of his lips against yours. Hongjoong slowly pulls away from you and curses softly.

“Fuck, I need to stop…” He chuckles, his breath against your skin sends a shiver throughout your body.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper.

“Stop apologizing Y/N” Hongjoong replied sternly, but softly. You stare at Hongjoong, the silence between you thick with unspoken emotions, a sense of awe lingering in the air. Time seems to stretch as you both take in the moment, each heartbeat echoing the connection that has just sparked.

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door pulls you back to reality. You jump slightly, the interruption breaking the fragile tension that had enveloped you. Your heart races as you spring up from the seat. Hongjoong shifts to sit on the edge of his desk, his expression a blend of casual confidence and intrigue.

You take a steadying breath and approach the door, determined to regain your composure. As you open it, you’re met by a colleague from the project department, his demeanor serious yet slightly flustered.

“Sorry to interrupt, Sir,” he says, glancing between you and Hongjoong. “But these are the files you wanted me to fix.” He hands you a USB drive, the weight of it feeling heavy in your palm.

You accept it, nodding as he bows slightly before retreating down the hallway. Turning back to Hongjoong, you raise an eyebrow, unable to mask your disbelief. “You already assigned someone to fix the files?”

Hongjoong’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leans back against the desk. “Oh, I guess I forgot…” he replies, his tone casual but the underlying tension unmistakable.

You look at him confused. “Right,” you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm as you walk back toward him, the USB drive clenched tightly in your hand.

“Here you go, sir,” you say, handing it over to him. “I’ll be getting back to work then.” You say and quickly make your way back to your desk.

———

The hours slipped by quicker than you anticipated. The workday had been a blur, each minute slipping into the next as if the world was rushing around you. An uncomfortable knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach at the thought of meeting Siwoo later. You had been dreading this, though you couldn’t exactly say why. But now that the time was nearing, that familiar wave of dread hit you full force.

You grabbed your bag, shoving your things into it with quick, distracted movements. As you headed toward the exit, your pulse quickened. You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling clenching your chest, hoping some fresh air would help.

But hhen you stepped outside, you felt even more suffocated. Siwoo was standing just outside the entrance, leaning against the wall. His posture was rigid, his jaw tight. He looked like he’d been waiting for a while.

The sight of him made your heart drop into your stomach. You didn’t expected him to show up at your workplace but here he is, standing there like he had something on his mind. Something heavy.

“S—Siwoo… you didn’t have to come all the way here,” you stammered, taking a hesitant step toward him. The words barely made it past your lips, thick with the anxiety you couldn’t shake. He straightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a sharpness that made your heart race.

“Why do you want to break up, Y/N?” His voice was loud, almost demanding, and the question hung between you like a cold wind. “I couldn’t wait anymore. I came here to get my answer.”

His words hit you like a punch. You hadn’t expected this. Not now, not like this. He looked... disheveled, like he hadn’t slept. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair was messier than usual—something was off. And it wasn’t just his appearance. The tension in his posture made your stomach tighten with a mix of unease and fear.

You blinked, struggling to find the right words. “Siwoo… Can we talk somewhere else? Not here, not in front of my work…” Your voice wavered, almost pleading, hoping he would agree to move somewhere more private. You didn’t want to have this conversation in such a public place, not with the heavy weight of his accusation in the air.

He didn’t answer at first, just stood there, staring at you. Then, with a sharp nod, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward his car.

You winced at the sudden pressure. The force of his grip was too strong, too fast, and it startled you. You barely had time to react before you were being dragged along. Anxiety shot through you as you followed him to the car, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the pain from his grip or the sudden fear of what was about to happen, but you felt your whole body tense.

Once you were in the car, Siwoo slammed the door behind you, his actions quick and almost frantic. The engine roared to life, and without another word, he sped off. His driving was reckless, faster than the speed limit, the car jerking over the road as he ignored any sign of caution. You could feel your stomach churn, the sick feeling intensifying as he weaved in and out of traffic, his eyes focused straight ahead, his face expressionless.

The air in the car felt heavy, suffocating. You wanted to say something, to ask him what was going on, but the words seemed to die in your throat. You were scared to speak, scared that something would happen if you did. The tension between you was unbearable, and your mind raced, thinking about everything you hadn’t said yet.

Finally, he pulled into a parking lot. You didn’t even need to look around to recognize the café. It was one of your favorite spots, the place you two had come to so often when things were good. Back when your relationship had felt easy, full of lighthearted conversations and laughter. Now, the place seemed like a cruel reminder of what had changed.

You followed him into the quiet almost empty café, your steps heavy, your mind already bracing for the worst. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sound between you the faint hum of conversation from other patrons. It was so quiet you could hear the tick of the clock on the wall.

Finally, the silence was broken by Siwoo’s voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you want to break up?” His tone was sharp, his eyes cold and calculating.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands. “Siwoo, I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’ve fallen out of love,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words felt like a confession, like you were admitting some deep, unbearable truth. You looked down at your fingers, suddenly feeling the weight of everything that had been building between you. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, before you spoke again. “We haven’t been on a real date in months. And when we do spend time together, it’s like you’re not really there. You’re distracted, distant.” Your voice trembled with emotion.

Siwoo’s expression darkened. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his voice hard. “Is that it? That’s your reason, Y/N?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s not just that. It’s everything. You’re always too busy, and when we are together, it feels like you’re... somewhere else. I’m tired of pretending everything’s fine.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “You think that’s all there is to it? You know how busy I am.” His voice was laced with annoyance. “I’ve been working so hard, and you’re sitting here complaining about flowers and dates.”

You blinked, hurt flashing across your face. “You don’t get it, do you, Siwoo? You can’t just throw flowers at me and expect everything to be okay. I needed more than that. I needed you to be present. I needed you to care about me, but I realized that wasn’t a priority for you”

He stared at you, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “You’re just going to throw everything away over that?”

“Yes. I can’t do this anymore. I know what I want and need, and it’s not this.” You were shaking now, the frustration boiling over. “I’ve tried to make it work. I’ve tried to understand why you’re distant, but nothing ever changes. And you know what? I don’t even think it matters anymore.”

Siwoo’s eyes flashed, his expression turning angry, defensive. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me because of that?” He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “You’ve never cared this much before. There must be another reason why you’re leaving.”

You were silent for a moment, then looked him straight in the eyes. “I know you’ve been cheating on me” you said calmly, emotionlessly.

Siwoo’s face went blank, then a flicker of shock crossed his features before he recovered. “What are you talking about?” His voice was strained, disbelieving.

“You’ve been cheating on me, Siwoo. I don’t know with who, but I know.”

His expression faltered, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he used to be—the one who had once cared for you. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by anger and denial. “You’re crazy,” he spat, his voice sharp, eyes narrowing. “You don’t know anything.”

“You’ve stood me up, you’ve ignored me, you’ve been on your phone more than you’ve been with me. You’ve made excuses, and you’ve disappeared for hours, and I’m not stupid, Siwoo. I know what’s been going on.”

He didn’t answer right away, his chest heaving with frustration. You stood up, your legs shaking but resolute. “I’m done, Siwoo. We’re over. Don’t contact me again.”

You turned and walked away from the table, not looking back. The door to the café closed behind you with a sharp click, and you stepped into the cool evening air. A taxi pulled up, and you climbed inside, finally feeling like you could breathe again.

———

Inside the café, Siwoo sat motionless, staring at the empty space where you’d just been. Anger churned in his chest. How had this happened? How had you figured it out? He’d always thought you were too naive, too dependent on him to see what he was doing. But now you knew, and it pissed him off. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling inside him.

With a sudden burst of irritation, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The voice on the other end was soft and sweet. "Hello? Professor Siwoo?"

"Hey, honey," he said, his voice suddenly calm, as if the rage he’d felt only moments before had vanished. "I’m a bit stressed. Can I see you?"

"Of course, you can, sir. I’ll be waiting for you."

He let out a long sigh, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a fraction. After a moment’s pause, he ended the call and drove back to campus.

In his office, a young woman walked in, her face carrying that familiar smug expression. “Oh, Professor Siwoo... Did you not want to see your boring girlfriend again?” She said it with a playful edge, stepping toward him and placing her hands on his chest.

Siwoo didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath, “She pissed me off today. I needed to see your pretty face.”

The woman giggled, slipping her arms around his waist. "I hope she keeps pissing you off. You get so rough when you’re upset." She leaned in closer, and Siwoo grunted, running a hand down her neck.

“I’m so sad this is my last semester with you sir” she whispered, her voice low, her hands drifting over him. “Promise me, you’ll still let me visit you professor?”

Siwoo’s face remained cold, his expression unreadable. He pulled her closer, but his mind was far from the moment. All he could think about was you, and how you had the audacity to confront him. How you knew. Siwoo stood motionless in the dimly lit room, his gaze fixed on the woman before him. She had dropped to her knees in front of him, her movements hurried, almost desperate, as she unfastened his belt and pulled down his pants. The soft rustling of fabric was the only sound that broke the heavy silence between them. He watched, detached, as she began to work with a practiced ease, her hands swift and efficient. But Siwoo's mind was far from the scene before him. His thoughts, unbidden and unwanted, drifted back to you. How could he not think of you? It was maddening, the way your face lingered in his mind like an echo, always there, always reminding him of the things he didn't want to admit. His fists clenched at his sides as frustration churned inside him.

Why should he care? He could have anyone, couldn't he? Women like this, easy and available, were nothing to him. But it wasn't her that occupied his thoughts. It was you. He thought to himself you probably got too confident after getting that stupid job as a secretary. Making more money than him, feeling a superiority over him. That’s probably why you left so easily. Siwoo was angry. But his thoughts pulled away once he finished on the woman. Groaning, he pulled her up and pushed her towards the door.

“What!? That’s it?! What the hell?!” The woman exclaims in frustration.

“Get the hell out” Siwoo pushes her out the door and shuts it behind him. Fuming with anger at the thought of you.

———

You stepped into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that echoed in the stillness of the space. A wave of exhaustion washed over you, each muscle in your body slumping as if they were weights pulling you down. You’d finally done it; you’d told Siwoo that it was over. The relief coursed through you like a warm current, yet it was quickly shadowed by an unsettling anxiety that gnawed at your insides for reasons you couldn’t quite grasp.

What lingered in the back of your mind was the image of Hongjoong. All you wanted was to see him, to feel the comfort of his presence wrap around you like a soft blanket. Being with him was different from anything you had known before—a connection that felt deeper, more genuine. It was as if he had unlocked a part of your heart that you didn’t even know existed. But that exhilaration was tempered by caution; you recognized the need to pause, to breathe, and to reflect before rushing into something new.

Determined to take care of yourself, you kicked off your shoes and sank into the familiar embrace of your sofa. The cushions molded around you, a sanctuary from the turmoil outside. You closed your eyes, letting the silence envelop you, drawing a deep breath as you mentally shifted into self-care mode. Tonight was for you. You would indulge in a long, soothing shower, perhaps light a candle or two, and lose yourself in a book or your favorite music. Your life outside could wait; right now, it was all about reclaiming your peace and preparing your heart for whatever came next.

For the next few hours, you surrender yourself to the soothing embrace of rest and relaxation. The long, warm shower you took had been a necessity, the steam enveloping you like a comforting blanket, washing away the remnants of the day’s stress. Now, as you settle into your soft, inviting bed, the sheets cradle you like a gentle cocoon, promising solace and peace.

You close your eyes, willing your body to unwind and drift off into the blissful realm of sleep. Yet, despite your efforts, your mind refuses to cooperate. Instead of the quiet darkness you seek, thoughts of Hongjoong begin to swirl within you, vibrant and insistent.

His killer smirk, soft but stern voice, his intoxicating touch on yours... You toss and turn, trying to shake off the warmth that spreads through you at the thought of him.

Each time you attempt to close your eyes, visions of his face fill the void, making it impossible to find peace. You think of his confidence, the way he carries himself with an effortless charm that draws everyone in. Frustrated, you turn onto your side, pulling the blanket closer as if it might shield you from the feelings that are threatening to overwhelm you. But the more you resist, the stronger the pull becomes, leaving you craving him. All of him.

You remember the feeling of his fingers moving inside you. His warm soft lips devouring you. And the way he called your name so effortlessly… A wave of warmth filled between your legs as you began to think of him. You curse to yourself for having such lewd thoughts. But you couldn’t help yourself, that night he showed you something you never knew you could experience. And gosh do you wish you can feel that ecstasy again. Unconsciously, your hand began to move towards the heat between your legs. You let yourself envelop in the touch of yourself as you begin to think of the only man you want. Hongjoong.

You began to draw circles on your clit as you think of his strong hands instead of yours. You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, remembering the smug look on his face as he looked at you in awe. You slip your fingers into your wet, warm entrance slowly.

“Fuck… Hongjoong~” You quietly moan. Your mind gets flooded with Hongjoong’s hard cock when he was fucking you. He filled you up so good and hit all the right spots effortlessly. You wish it was him touching you right now instead of yourself. You wish he was here holding you and telling you dirty, degrading, yet loving words.

As your pace began to speed up, tears slipped from your eyes. The sudden remembrance of Hongjoong being possessive and only wanting your tears for himself sent you over the edge. Your body filled with an overwhelming of amount of pleasure.

“A-ahh H-hongjoong~~” You squeeze your breasts and release loud moan a you come undone on your own fingers. You lay there trying to catch your breath as you slowly remove your fingers. You feel dirty about the fact you just got off on the mere thought of Hongjoong. You quickly clean yourself up before dropping back down on the soft cushion. You sigh and close your eyes… Finally, the drowsiness casts over your body. Your eyes began to go heavy from the orgasm you just had, and soon you fall asleep into a deep slumber… still thinking about Hongjoong.

———

The following morning, you arrive at the office feeling a sense of renewal that had eluded you in the past few days. With Siwoo officially out of your life, there’s an undeniable spark of curiosity about what could develop between you and Hongjoong. You’ve thought about it all night, and now, armed with a daily iced Americano for him, you stride confidently toward his office.

Setting the cup on his desk, you can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling a flutter of anticipation. Glancing at the agenda in your hands, you mentally prepare for the day ahead before retreating back to your desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you hear the familiar greeting echo around the office. You look up from your computer to find him standing by the entrance, offering a gentle smile to the staff. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel encouraged to engage.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim—” you say, your voice steady, but he doesn’t even glance in your direction. Instead, his gaze is fixed on his watch, and he interrupts you with an air of urgency.

“Miss Y/N, cancel the meeting with the marketing department at 1 PM. I have an interview to attend instead.” With that, he strides into his office, the door closing with a quiet finality that leaves you bewildered.

Confusion settles in as you take your seat once more. You quickly type out a cancellation email to the marketing team, but your mind races with questions. What could possibly be bothering him? Why hadn’t he even looked at you? You exhale softly, staring at the screen, trying to shake off the unease.

Moments later, a response arrives in your inbox—a request from the head manager of the marketing team to reschedule. You glance at Hongjoong’s closed door, feeling a pang of uncertainty. He hadn’t mentioned any rescheduling… Driven by a mixture of concern and determination, you rise from your chair, notebook in hand.

You knock softly on the door, waiting for a response.

“Come in,” his voice calls out, calm yet authoritative. You open the door and step inside, closing it gently behind you. Hongjoong is hunched over his computer, typing with an intensity that makes you feel almost invisible. Your heart sinks at his apparent disregard.

“Uhm, Sir, the marketing team is asking for a rescheduled time for the meeting you wanted to cancel.” You speak clearly, hoping to draw his attention.

“Tell them I don’t want to see them for a while. They need to fix their ideas. It’s pointless for me to attend a meeting when they can’t do anything right,” he replies, his tone tinged with frustration. His eyes remain glued to the screen, leaving you feeling dismissed.

“Yes, Sir…” you murmur, jotting down his words. As you begin to turn to leave, an impulse makes you hesitate and look back at him.

“Ah, Sir,” you say, fiddling nervously with your pen. His indifference stings, yet you press on. “Shall I accompany you to the interview? I could take notes or—”

“No need.” he cuts you off, the word clipped and final. A sharp pang strikes your heart, disappointment crashing over you.

“Alright then, Sir. I will get back to work…” you reply softly, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air as you turn away, your thoughts swirling with questions and lingering hopes.

You immerse yourself in your morning tasks, trying to push aside the troubling thoughts about Hongjoong’s sudden dismissiveness. Why had he been so cold? You remind yourself that it might be for the best—not rushing into something new with him right after Siwoo. After all, you need time to heal.

As the hours tick by, the flood of questions from the marketing team overwhelms you. Hongjoong hasn’t provided any clear answers, leaving you to craft professional, half-hearted apologies while encouraging them to resolve their issues independently. Frustration simmers beneath your surface, and you find yourself stretching in your chair, letting out a sigh that feels too loud in the otherwise quiet office.

“Hi, I have a meeting with Mr. Kim today at 1 PM.” A soft voice pulls you back to the present. You look up to see a young woman standing in front of your desk, she holds a confident aura. She looks to be in college, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Ah, yes. His office is right there,” you reply, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” You begin to dial his office phone, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Please, take a seat,” you add, keeping your tone warm despite the weight on your mind.

“Mr. Kim, your interview with—” you glance back at the young lady, uncertain of her name.

“Lee Haeun,” she supplies quickly.

“—with Lee Haeun is here,” you finish, relaying the message into the phone. Hongjoong’s voice crackles back with a brief instruction to let her in, and you hang up, rising from your seat.

“Right this way, Haeun,” you say, leading her to Hongjoong’s office. You open the door and usher her inside.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. Thank you so much for having me,” Haeun says, bowing slightly, her nerves palpable.

“My pleasure. Let’s start the interview. Miss Y/N, you may leave,” Hongjoong replies, his voice smooth but his attention solely on Haeun. He glances at you for just a moment, a fleeting look that sends your heart racing, before turning back to the applicant with a smile.

Your stomach churns at the sight. Why are you feeling this way? You chastise yourself internally. This is just work. He’s likely trying to maintain professionalism, to keep things strictly business. Still, the pang of confusion is hard to shake as you retreat back to your desk, your mind swirling with questions and a twinge of hurt. The door closes behind you, and the distance feels more pronounced than ever.

———

Hongjoong sits at his desk, the faint sound of tapping keys fading into the background as he pulls out his notepad. The room is filled with an air of anticipation, and across from him, Lee Haeun shifts nervously in her chair. Her hands clasp tightly in her lap, betraying her anxiety despite the confident smile she tries to maintain.

“Okay, Lee Haeun,” he begins, his eyes flicking to the application laid out before him. “It says here you’re applying to be part of the marketing team?”

“Yes, sir,” Haeun replies, her voice steadying as she leans slightly forward. “I’m majoring in business marketing right now, and I will be graduating in two years.”

“Which college do you attend?” Hongjoong asks, looking up from the paper, his brow slightly furrowing in curiosity.

“I attend the University located downtown, sir,” she responds, a bright smile lighting up her face. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, noting the irony of her choice; it’s the same university where Siwoo teaches. The thought lingers in his mind, but he quickly shoves it aside.

As the interview progresses, Hongjoong asks her all the necessary questions. Haeun responds thoughtfully, showcasing her diligence and genuine enthusiasm for the field. Hongjoong finds himself impressed; she speaks with a clarity that reflects her passion.

After what feels like a thorough exchange, Hongjoong leans back in his chair, folding his arms as he assesses her. “Well, your qualifications look promising for our marketing team,” he says, standing up and gesturing toward her. “However, I will be discussing final decisions with my team. We will contact you either later today or within the next week to let you know if you got the job.”

Haeun’s face lights up with gratitude. “Of course, thank you, Mr. Kim,” she replies, bowing as she stands up and exits Hongjoong’s office.

———

You look up as the door to Hongjoong's office swings open, revealing Haeun stepping out with confidence and a radiant smile.

“How did the interview go?” you ask, genuinely curious with a soft smile.

Haeun turns, her grin stretching wider, lighting up her features. “I think it went well! I should hear back in a few days about whether I got the job.”

“I hope for the best!” you reply, waving her off with a supportive smile as she walks away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

You glance at the clock on your desk; it’s your hour break. A wave of relief washes over you as you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a small sigh. The thought of free time is a welcome escape from the monotony of the day. However, your gaze drifts back to Hongjoong’s office door, and a nagging thought surfaces. Should you go talk to him? You’ve noticed that he seems a bit off lately, maybe there’s something bothering him.

Rising from your desk, you make your way to his office, the soft click of your heels against the floor breaking the silence. With a gentle knock, you call out, “Sir?”

“Come in” Hongjoong replies, his voice calm.

You open the door and step inside, finding him engrossed in his files. He looks up, finally making eye contact with you, his gaze steady and penetrating.

“Can I help you, Miss Y/N?” he asks, his tone neutral.

You close the door behind you and take a few steps toward his desk. “Sir… Is everything alright?” Your voice is soft, tinged with concern.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “Everything is fine, Miss Y/N. Why do you ask?” He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair, exuding an air of relaxed authority.

“Uhm… I just noticed you’ve seemed a bit distant lately, sir…” You trail off, glancing down at the polished floor, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“How so?” he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed, his interest piqued.

You take a breath, trying to steady your nerves. “You… seem dismissive of me, sir. I apologize if I did something wrong.” You look back up at him, worry etched on your face.

Hongjoong scoffs lightly as he rises from his chair. “I didn’t say you did anything wrong, Miss Y/N.” He takes a step closer, and you feel your heart quicken. The space between you feels charged, and you hold your breath as he approaches.

He walks past you, and for a moment, you think he’s heading for the door. Instead, he turns the lock, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet office. Your heart races at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

With a slow turn, he faces you, his demeanor shifting as he loosens the tie around his neck and makes his way towards you. You begin to step back, your body bumping into his desk. You’re against the cold wood, as you look up towards him. Hongjoong slightly hovers over you and smirks.

“Did you talk to the marketing team?” he asks, his voice smooth but direct. You blink, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected question.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice small.

He hums in acknowledgment, his expression contemplative. “I might hire that new girl, Lee Haeun. She’s smart and seems very organized. The office has been slacking lately.” His words hang in the air, and a sense of panic begins to stir within you. What position was Haeun applying for? Was Hongjoong considering replacing you? The thoughts swirl in your mind, each more alarming than the last.

“I—I’m sorry, sir. If I haven’t been at my best, it wasn’t my intention to slack off. I—“ Panic takes hold, and tears spring to your eyes as the words spill out in a rush, your voice trembling. Hongjoong's soft chuckle cuts through your anxiety, leaving you confused.

“Oh baby, do you really think I’m going to replace you?” He steps closer, his hands cupping your face as he wipes away your tears with his thumb, his touch gentle and reassuring. You can’t help but notice the way his lips curl slightly as he studies your face, his eyes lingering on your pretty watered eyes, and tear-streaked cheeks.

“No one can replace you,” he whispers, and the sincerity of his words washes over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your heart. The flutter in your chest begins to chase away the heaviness of your worries as you look up at him, your breaths coming more steadily.

“Did you talk to Siwoo?” he asks quietly, a hint of concern slipping into his tone.

“I did,” you nod, meeting his gaze. “I talked to him yesterday. We’re over.” The words hang heavy between you, but before you can fully grasp the reality of it, Hongjoong’s lips capture yours, urgent and insistent.

His kiss deepens, and you find yourself melting against him, your heart racing in response to the electricity sparking between you.

“Good,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm, before he pulls you back into a kiss that steals your breath away once more. The kiss becomes sloppy, the way his tongue laps over your lips over and over. You invite him in, enveloping all of him in you. Your arms are wrapped over his neck as the kiss deepens. Hongjoong softly bites your bottom lip and in response you whimper. Making Hongjoong chuckle.

“Fuck, is it bad that I want to take you right here?” Hongjoong confesses as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“We can’t…” you whisper, slightly thrilled but scared at the thought of getting caught.

“I know…” Hongjoong’s hands drop from your face and wraps around your waist. Hongjoong’s warmth enveloped you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, the gentle press of his opened mouth kisses sending shivers down your spine. Each touch igniting a flutter in your heart. You gasp at the sensation of his tongue against your skin.

His hands tightened around your waist, a comforting grip that made you feel cherished. With a hefty sigh, he snuggled even closer, his body molding against yours as if he were seeking solace in your presence. Time seemed to stand still, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Your fingers instinctively rose to his hair, brushing through the soft strands that felt like silk beneath your touch.

“Are you okay, Hongjoong?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with concern. He responded with another tender kiss on your neck, savoring the closeness before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“I wasn’t ignoring you this morning because I was mad or upset with you,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours for understanding. There was a vulnerability in his tone that tugged at your heartstrings. “I was frustrated with the marketing team. They haven’t been performing well, and the Exhibition is in a little over a month, that’s why I had that sudden interview.”

You watched as he spoke, his expression earnest and sincere. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease as he opened up.“I’m sorry if I worried you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hip, the fabric of your shirt soft against your skin. His touch was tender, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for assuming the worst,” you replied, offering him a soft smile that you hoped conveyed your understanding. The bond between you felt stronger in that moment, forged through shared concerns and open communication.

Hongjoong’s face softened at your response, and he leaned in closer, the playful glimmer in his eyes returning.

“After work, let me take you out on a proper date,” he suggested, his smile infectious. You couldn’t help but nod enthusiastically, a thrill of excitement coursing through you at the thought of spending more time together.

He chuckled softly at your eagerness, the sound wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Leaning in, he planted another sweet kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless. It was a promise of the evening to come, and as you leaned into him, you knew that this moment was just the beginning of something beautiful.

———

As the sun decreased in the sky, You found yourself glancing at the clock over and over, each tick amplifying the racing of your heart. The promised date with Hongjoong makes you anxious is a good way. This will be the first time you’ll see him outside the sterile confines of the office, and anticipation coiled in your stomach like a tightly wound spring. Despite spending the last two years as his secretary, you realized you hardly knew him. The past few days gave you a sneak peak into what he’s like as a lover and your heart fluttered at the thought of it.

You sat at your desk, watching as your colleagues began to trickle out of the office, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. The clock ticked down the final minutes of the workday, and a flutter of anticipation danced in your stomach. You quickly pulled out your compact mirror, its surface reflecting the soft light of the room. With steady hands, you began touching up your makeup, reapplying lip balm and smoothing down a few unruly strands of hair that had escaped your carefully styled look.

Once you were satisfied, you turned to your desk, gathering your belongings with a sense of urgency. As you packed away your notebook and pens, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves.

Just then, as if he could sense your eagerness, Hongjoong emerged from his office, his briefcase in hand. He paused for a moment, his gaze finding yours, and a soft smile broke across his face. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, and you instinctively returned the smile, rising from your seat as if drawn by an invisible force.

“Are you ready?” he asked, approaching you with a casual confidence that made you feel both at ease and electrified. You nodded, your voice momentarily lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

Without hesitation, he reached out, taking your bag from your hand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine as he swung the strap over his shoulder with an effortless grace.

“Let’s go,” he said, giving you a playful wink that made your cheeks flush. With a mix of eagerness and trepidation, you fell into step behind him, as you both make your way to his car.

———

Hongjoong took you to a charming local restaurant that felt like a hidden gem, its exterior adorned with hand-painted signs and warm lighting. The cozy atmosphere, with wooden accents and family photos lining the walls, was a stark contrast to the upscale dining spots you had expected him to choose. Yet, as you stepped inside, you felt an unexpected warmth wash over you. It was clear that he wanted to make this evening about comfort and connection, rather than extravagance, and that thought made your heart swell.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants,” he said casually, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “My parents always took my brother and me here as kids.” The way he spoke about it brought a smile to your face; the small detail felt intimate, revealing a side of him that was endearing and genuine.

As you settled into a booth, the scent of savory dishes wafted around you, making your mouth water. You glanced over the menu, excitement bubbling within you. “What do you recommend?” you asked, turning to him with a bright smile.

Hongjoong looked thoughtful, scanning the menu. “Hmm, their beef short ribs are really good, and their tofu soup is delicious,” he suggested as his eyes scanned through the menu.

“I trust you to order,” you replied, a soft giggle escaping your lips. He raised an eyebrow at you in surprise.

“Don’t be shy now, Y/N,” he chuckled, the sound warm and inviting.

“I’m not! I trust your judgment since you’ve been here many times. I want to have what you get,” you insisted, your sincerity reflected in your gaze. He laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, and nodded in agreement.

Minutes passed, and one by one, a delightful array of side dishes and main entrees began to fill the table. Hongjoong wasn’t exaggerating; each bite was like a comforting embrace, reminiscent of home-cooked meals.

As the evening deepened, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything from childhood memories to current events, laughter punctuating your exchanges. With every shared story and knowing glance, you felt yourself falling harder for him.

As you took your last few bites, savoring the rich flavors of the meal, you caught Hongjoong’s gaze. He was watching you with an affectionate smile, clearly admiring how much you were enjoying the food.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asked, leaning back against the booth with a relaxed yet attentive demeanor. You looked up at him, cheeks stuffed with food, and nodded eagerly. His chuckle echoed softly in the cozy space, a sound that made your heart flutter as he waved over the server to settle the tab.

After the bill was paid, you both decided to take a stroll through the nearby park before he dropped you off at home. The quiet night wrapped around you like a warm blanket, the stars twinkling overhead as you walked hand in hand. The soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet punctuated the serene atmosphere, and you felt a sense of peace envelop you.

“Y/N?” Hongjoong called softly, breaking the comfortable silence. You turned to look up at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “Hm?” you hummed in response.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze still fixed ahead. “What did Siwoo say when you ended things?” His voice was gentle, but you could sense the undercurrent of concern. You felt your lips thin into a line as memories of that difficult conversation flooded back. You couldn’t blame him for being curious—he was the one who helped you realize Siwoo was being unfaithful.

“He was upset and angry…” you replied softly, your voice steady but lacking the weight of sadness. You turned your gaze forward, lost in thought. “He tried to gaslight me, making it seem like I was leaving him over stupid reasons.” You rolled your eyes at the memory. “But once I told him I knew he was cheating, his whole demeanor shifted. He didn’t admit to it, but I could see the guilt written all over his face.”

You glanced at Hongjoong, whose expression remained thoughtful as he listened intently. “After that, I just left. I told him we were done and to not contact me again.” You stopped in your tracks, the sudden halt causing Hongjoong to turn and look at you.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, concern flickering in your eyes. He smiled reassuringly and nodded.

“I’m more than okay, baby,” he said, ruffling your hair in a playful yet endearing gesture. “But if he ever bothers you again, please let me know, okay?” His sincerity made you feel safe, and you nodded in response.

“Let’s go home. It’s getting late,” Hongjoong suggested, feeling the weight of the day begin to settle. As you resumed walking, hand in hand, a warm sense of hope filled the air between you, chasing away any lingering shadows of the past.

———

For the next month, being with Hongjoong felt like living in a dream. Each day, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moments you would share together, both in and out of the office. Despite his dominant and authoritative demeanor during work hours (and in bed), he revealed a softer side to you—a side that was attentive, caring, and incredibly endearing. Those little gestures, like the way he would brush a stray hair behind your ear or how his eyes would light up when you shared a laugh, made you feel cherished.

Your initial worries about the complexities of a relationship between worker and boss faded away. Hongjoong had a natural ability to keep his professional and personal lives separate, making it clear that he understood the boundaries of his position.

The two of you seamlessly balanced your work and personal lives, slipping effortlessly from professional colleagues to romantic partners. You’d share knowing glances during meetings and subtle touches when no one was looking. Those stolen moments turned mundane workdays into something special. Yet, it wasn’t without its slip-ups. There were instances when the chemistry between you became too overwhelming to ignore, leading you both to steal away into his office for passionate make-out sessions, and heated quickies.

Each time it happened, it felt both exhilarating and dangerous, as if you were living on the edge of a thrilling secret. The thrill of being discovered added an electric tension to those encounters, heightening the rush of intimacy that had blossomed between you.

———

“H—Hongjoong, not here~” you giggled, your voice a playful whisper as his lips brushed softly against your neck. The gentle kiss sent a flutter through you, warmth radiating from the point of contact.

“Shh,” he murmured, his warm breath tickling your skin, igniting an electric thrill that danced along your neck.

You were tucked away in one of the meeting rooms on the second floor of the building. Just moments ago, you had accompanied him to a meeting with the marketing team. The atmosphere had been charged with creativity and collaboration, and everything had gone off without a hitch. Hongjoong was in a better mood about the marketing team once he hired that new girl, everything seemed at place.

Once the last of the team members left and the door securely closed, the mood shifted entirely. Hongjoong pounced on you as soon as the coast was clear.

“Let’s be quick,” he teased, his voice low and conspiratorial. You felt your heart race as he leaned in, capturing your neck again with his wet kisses. Each touch was warm with an underlying intensity that made your pulse quicken. You leaned into him, caught off guard by the warmth and familiarity of his embrace. The world outside faded into a distant hum as you focused solely on him.

“But what if someone walks in?” you asked, a hint of laughter lacing your words, though you secretly delighted in the thrill of being together in such a private moment.

“Let them,” he replied, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His confidence was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Hongjoong swiftly lifts you onto the table and hikes up your skirt. His hands massage your soft thighs, sending a shiver down your spine.

“How about I just help my baby out for now yeah?” Hongjoong whispers on your lips before planting a gentle kiss. You’re confused at his suggestion. Help out you?

And within an instant, Hongjoong is on his knees. He leaves a kiss on your soft thighs and runs his hands over your legs.

“Try not to be loud baby.” Hongjoong hooks his finger under your panties and moves it to the side. Without hesitation, he begins to lap his tongue over your clit.

You gasp at the warm feeling of his tongue. Your hand shot towards your mouth as you try to muffle your moans. Hongjoong holds onto your thigh to keep you from squirming. His lips move skillfully on your pussy, devouring every part of you. You can feel the tip of his perfect nose rub against you, creating more pleasurable friction. The sounds of your wet cunt mixed with you trying to catch your breath makes Hongjoong grow harder in his pants.

“Cum for me baby,” Hongjoong mumbles as he encourages you while picking up his pace. Your hands instinctively moves towards his hair, pulling him closer as you move your hips against his mouth.

“F—fuck Hongjoong… I’m so close” You whisper a whine.

“Yeah? Cum on my face, baby” Hongjoong groans, lapping his tongue over and over. Hongjoong’s free hand quickly shoots up to cover your mouth, knowing your orgasm was close. Hongjoong sucks on your clit, and in an instant you come undone on his mouth. As you shake under his touch, he slurps every drop of you, making you moan muffled curses against his hand as you ride out your high.

Once you calm down, Hongjoong releases his grip on your mouth. He stands up on his feet a smirks at you. He licked his lips and wipes his mouth.

“Atta girl” He growls a chuckle. Hongjoong leans in and kisses you, giving you a direct taste of yourself, a wet string connected between your mouth and his. You moan at the lewd motive. Hongjoong quickly leans over to grab a few tissues and begins cleaning you.

“Let’s get back to work…” Hongjoong smirks at your flushed face as he pulls you off the table. You adjust your skirt and clear your throat, while Hongjoong fixes his tousled hair.

You trailed behind Hongjoong, your legs feeling slightly unsteady beneath you. The hallway was blissfully empty, allowing the two of you to slip away from the meeting room without raising any suspicions.

“Thank you for your hard work, Miss Y/N,” he said, flashing you a charming smile accompanied by a playful wink that sent your heart racing.

“My pleasure, s-sir,” you stammered, bowing your head slightly as you watched him walk away, his confident stride taking him in the opposite direction from where you were headed. You turned and made your way toward the elevator, your cheeks still flushed from the encounter.

As you waited for the elevator doors to open, you tapped your heels against the floor, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin. When the silver doors slid apart with a soft whoosh, you stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The elevator began its ascent, and an awkward silence enveloped you.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your thoughts. “Ah, hold the door for me, please!” You jolted, quickly extending your hand to keep the door from closing. A new familiar figure rushed in just in time—Lee Haeun, the newest addition to the marketing team.

“Thank you so much, Miss Y/N!” Haeun gasped, a bright smile spreading across her face as she caught her breath, bowing slightly.

“It’s no problem, Miss Lee,” you replied, returning her smile and clasping your hands around the clipboard you held. The elevator settled into a quiet hum, the tension from moments before gradually fading.

“Ah, I know I’m still new here…” Haeun broke the silence, turning to you with an earnest expression. “I’m just trying to get to know everyone better,” she continued, her smile warm and inviting.

“Don’t hesitate to speak to me, Haeun! I know it can be hard adjusting to a new work environment,” you encouraged, genuinely hoping to ease her transition.

“Thank you~” Haeun beamed, giving a small bow once more. “I hope, I’m not crossing any professional boundaries here, but I’m curious…” Haeun begins, you look at her piqued in interest, “Is Mr. Kim seeing anyone? I mean he’s just so young and handsome…” She sighs and smiles, “And he’s always working. So it just makes me wonder you know?” Haeun giggles, a slightly irritable ringing echoes in the elevator.

“Ah~ I’m not sure Miss Lee. I don’t know too much” You force a smile at her. She responds in an aspirated “Ahh” as she nods. Silence floods the super… slow… elevator once again.

“I’m in my last year of college, so I’m really grateful to have this job opportunity so early on even though I don’t have my degree just yet!” Haeun says unexpectedly with enthusiasm and confidence.

“Oh wow! That’s amazing. Which university do you attend?” you ask, turning towards her trying to be respectful.

“I attend the university downtown!” she replied, her enthusiasm infectious. You fought to maintain your composure at the mention of the familiar institution, annoyance swirling within you.

“Impressive! That’s a great school,” you said, managing a tight smile as you turned back to face the elevator doors.

“Yeah! My Marketing Professor, Park Siwoo, was the best,” Haeun said, a dreamy expression crossing her face as she looked down, lost in thought. Your breath caught at the name, and you nodded, forcing a smile as you cursed silently at the elevator’s sluggish pace. Why was it taking so long? The walls felt closer now, and you could almost sense the weight of memories you’ve forgotten pressing in on you.

*Ding.*

The elevator chimed softly, and Haeun turned to you, her expression bright.

“This is my floor. It was nice talking to you, Miss Y/N.” She gave a polite bow, and you instinctively mirrored her gesture, a warm smile on your face despite the lingering unease within you.

As the doors began to slide shut, you watched Haeun step out, her figure quickly disappearing into the bustling office beyond. The elevator felt suddenly empty, a cocoon of silence wrapping around you. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unwelcome thoughts that had surfaced during your conversation.

It must just be a coincidence, you told yourself firmly. After all, Park Siwoo isn’t relevant anymore—a distant echo of a time you have already forgotten. What mattered now was the present, and the happiness you had found with Hongjoong.

———

The exhibition was only a week away, and the atmosphere in the conference room buzzed with a mix of urgency and anticipation. Hongjoong stood at the front, radiating a sense of authority that commanded attention. His gaze swept across the room, ensuring each team member felt the weight of his words.

“I need everyone to be on their A game,” he said, his tone firm yet focused. “We have no room for mistakes. Each department should know their responsibilities for the next few days. If you’re unsure, consult your department manager. For serious questions, reach out to Miss Y/N—don’t come to me.” He paused for a moment, allowing the gravity of his instructions to settle in. “Understood?”

A chorus of enthusiastic “Yeses” filled the expansive hall, reverberating like a well-rehearsed symphony. You sat at the front corner, diligently taking notes and keeping track of the time, mentally organizing tasks as Hongjoong spoke.

“That is all then. You are all excused,” he concluded, nodding slightly. The room erupted into movement as colleagues rose from their seats, and you swiftly jotted down the final points before beginning to tidy the files spread across the table.

Just then, a soft, melodic voice broke through the chatter. “Ah, Mr. Kim~” You looked up to see Haeun approaching, her smile bright and inviting.

“Yes, Miss Lee?” Hongjoong responded, turning his attention to her, his demeanor shifting slightly, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“I know this might be last minute,” she said, leaning closer with an air of excitement. She pulled out her notebook, flipping it open to reveal her ideas. The distance between you and them felt substantial, making it difficult to hear their exchange.

As Hongjoong took the notebook from her, you noticed their fingers brush—a fleeting touch that ignited a flicker of annoyance within you. You turned your gaze away, but something compelled you to look back. Hongjoong placed the notebook on the table, his focus narrowing, clearly invested in their discussion.

Their mouths moved in animated conversation, and then Haeun giggled, her laughter ringing like a bell. Your irritation surged as she playfully brushed her hand against his arm. Hongjoong returned her smile, and your heart sank. Unconsciously, you rolled your eyes, gathering your belongings in an effort to quell the jealousy creeping into your chest.

Finally, Haeun bowed slightly, her smile lingering as she exited the room, leaving you and Hongjoong alone in the spacious conference hall. The echoes of Haeun’s laughter faded, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that settled heavily between you. Your heart raced, caught in a tangle of confusion and unspoken feelings as you tried to maintain your professionalism.

Rising from your seat, you felt a flutter of anticipation as you caught sight of Hongjoong making his way toward you. His footsteps were purposeful, echoing softly in the now-empty conference room. When he finally stopped in front of you, a spark of awe lit up his features, and he offered you a warm, gentle smile.

But instead of feeling buoyed by his gaze, a small frown creased your lips. You quickly turned your face away, an unwelcome surge of tears threatening to spill over. You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to hold them back.

“W—we should go,” you said softly, attempting to step past him. However, Hongjoong sensed your mood immediately. His hands found your shoulders, gently but firmly anchoring you in place. He let out a loud sigh, his expression morphing into a playful smirk that only deepened your frown.

Hongjoong chuckled, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, his touch warm and grounding. “Why are you pouting? Hm?” he teased, his voice light yet sincere. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the floor, the weight of your emotions making it hard to speak.

“Y/N, if you don’t answer me now, I won’t be able to fix it,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, yet still laced with determination. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your skin, and you felt the warmth seep through you, yet it didn’t fully chase away the storm brewing inside.

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Haeun… has been so touchy with you…” You paused, your heart racing. “Like, every chance she gets when she sees you, she’s so close, touching your arms, giggling with that annoying voice of hers. It’s so obvious she likes you.” You mumbled the last part, just loud enough for Hongjoong to hear, but it felt like a confession that hung heavily between you.

His brow arched in amusement, a playful grin forming on his lips as he took in your words. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the hint of jealousy you couldn’t quite mask. “I’m serious, Joong… it’s not funny,” you insisted, your gaze dropping back to your feet as fresh tears threatened to spill.

“Oh baby~” Hongjoong cooed, lifting your chin with a tender touch, forcing you to meet his gaze once more. Leaning closer, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, igniting a warmth that coursed through you. “You’re overthinking,” he murmured against your lips, punctuating his words with another gentle peck. “I’m all yours,” he whispered again, another soft kiss, drawing you in closer. “And…” he continued, leaning in once more, “you’re all mine…”

With that, he deepened the kiss, enveloping you in a warmth that pushed away the lingering doubts. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that moment, the connection between you both undeniable and intoxicating.

You couldn’t help that one single tear drop from your eyes as Hongjoong continued to kiss your lips. His thumb swiftly wipes the tear and smirks against your lips,

“Going to cry for me, baby?” He teases between the now heated make-out. You whimper against him and he chuckles. Finally pulling away, a bridge of saliva connects your lips,

“Fuck~ we need to stop” Hongjoong whispers, his hands still cupping your face. “C—come over tonight?” You quietly suggest. Earning a wide grin from Hongjoong.

“Naughty girl…” Hongjoong groans softly and releases his hold on you. He looks at you in awe and nods

“I’ll see you later” He winks at you and you blush, before you both make your way back up the top floor to finish up work in anticipation to make the day go by faster.

———

You stumble back into the door as Hongjoong attacks your lips. Eagerly kissing you as if he hasn’t tasted you in years.

“J—Joong let me open the door” You giggle against his lips. Your house keys jingle from your hand thats gripped by Hongjoong’s. He swiftly takes the keys away from you, mouth still on yours. He quickly unlocks the door and you are both pushed inside. Hongjoong kicks the door closed behind him and locks it.

In an instant you drop your bags and Hongjoong effortlessly lifts you off the floor. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, as you continue drowning in his kisses. He carries you to the comfort of your bedroom. Your body softly drops onto the mattress and Hongjoong interlocks with your hands above your head. He leans into your neck and takes a whiff of your scent, sending a shiver down your spine. He releases a sigh as he opens mouth to leave warm, wet kisses all over your neck. You moan at the sensation.

“Are you going to be my good girl tonight baby?” Hongjoong whispers in your ear.

“Y-yes” you whimper in response.

“Yes what?” he groans and takes your earlobe between his teeth

“Yes Hongjoong” You moan.

“I love it when you moan my name” Hongjoong says in a teasing tone. His hands release from yours and make their way to your blouse. He skillfully unbuttons your shirt and whips it open, revealing your bra covered breasts. He leans down to kiss the exposed areas. You whimper at the seemingly slow pace he’s going. You want to feel all of him already, but he’s clearly taking his time with you on purpose.

Your hands reach up towards his tie and you begin to loosen it up, earning a chuckle from Hongjoong. You finally pull the tie off his neck, and begin to work on his buttons.

“Someone’s eager?” Hongjoong smirks as he watches you hastily unbutton his black shirt and attempt to push the fabric off. Hongjoong chuckles at you and leans back to rest on his knees as he tugs the rest of his shirt off. You prop yourself up and reach towards his arms, admiring his hidden tattoo. You desperately kiss him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, making you two fall back onto the mattress.

“Don’t be a brat Y/N” Hongjoong mumbles against your lips and pulls away. He stands up, off the bed and pulls your legs to bring you towards him. He begins removing the rest of your clothes one by one leaving you only in your beige lacy panties. Hongjoong starts to unbuckle his belt, you lean up to watch him in awe. His eyes remained on yours.

Instinctively, you move forward, dropping yourself on your knees onto the floor. You rest against the side of the bed for support as Hongjoong steps towards you. He takes off his pants and grabs a hold of the back of your head. He caresses it for a brief moment before pulling you closer to his clothed dick. You open your mouth and began rubbing your face on the soft warm fabric that hugged his hard cock.

“Fuck… you’re such a dirty girl” Hongjoong hisses at the sight of you. Your hands move to pull his briefs down and his hard cock springs out. Without hesitation, you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. You swirl a few circles with your tongue before popping your mouth off. You stick out your tongue, lick from the base of his cock and back up to his tip. Hongjoong moans at the feeling of your warm tongue. You repeat the motion a few times before taking all of him into your tiny mouth.

Both of Hongjoong’s hands grab a hold on your face. You gawk your head up and down taking him deeper at a slow but steady pace. Hongjoong can’t seem to get enough of you as he steps forward while holding onto your face, making your neck lean into the mattress. You relax a bit before Hongjoong begins to fuck your mouth. He moves his own hips at a faster pace as he fucks your mouth, head into the mattress. You moan at his sudden roughness. Your moans send a vibration through Hongjoong, making him pick up his pace. He constantly hits the back of your throat causing you to cough. Hongjoong pulls away from your messy slobbery mouth and groans in temptation.

“Up” he demands in one word, and in an instant, you’re up on your feet. Hongjoong lays down on your bed and props himself up at the headboard. He taps his lap, signaling you to ride him. Without another word, you crawl towards him on the mattress. He bites his lip at the sight of you. You straddle your legs over his lap and hold onto his shoulders.

“Put it in baby” Hongjoong softly says, getting impatient as well. You sink down onto his dick and release a loud moan. Hongjoong groans and wraps his arms around you.

“F—fuck Hongjoong~” you whimper as you take time to adjust yourself. Hongjoong’s hand carefully rubs your back as you remain still.

“Still can’t handle me yet baby?” Hongjoong chuckles and moves his hips forward.

“Ah~ Joong” you moan and hold onto him tighter. “It’s alright baby. move for me” Hongjoong whispers. Your eyes started to well up. Tears piercing the corners of your eyes.

Your hips began rocking against Hongjoong’s at a slow pace. His cock hits your g-spot over and over as you move your hips forward. Hongjoong’s hands caress your hips and tightens his grip.

“Hold onto me baby” Hongjoong whispers. You lean forward and hold onto his shoulders. He begins to thrust his hips upwards, deepening his feel into your wet pussy. You yelp at the painful pleasure.

Your tears fall from your eyes as his pace picked up.

“You feel good baby?” Hongjoong moans in your ear. “Y—yess Hongjoong” You manage to whimper out.

“Fuck you make me feel so good Y/N” Hongjoong growls and smacks your ass. You begin bouncing on his cock moving at your own pace. Your breast jiggle at each bounce, causing Hongjoong to reach towards them and take one into his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess on his cock, you feel yourself so close to coming and Hongjoong notices.

“Cum baby, don’t hold back” He groans and takes over the pace, he holds onto your waist and you scream in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Your tears keep flowing down and Hongjoong chuckles as your fucked out expression.

Hongjoong cups your flushed cheeks and kisses your forehead. He looks into your glossy teary eyes and smirks,

“I’m not done with you baby” He leans your bodies forward and drops you down onto the mattress.

“Turn around” He demands. You’re a panting mess as you flip over on all fours. Hongjoong pulls your ass towards his crotch and pushes your head down. You moan at the sudden movement.

He smacks your butt and grips onto to it.

“H—hongjoong~” You gasp, pushing your ass back against his body. He chuckles at your eagerness.

“Yeah baby?” He coos, fondling your ass with his hands.

“F—fuck me please” You whine into the mattress. “You want to cum again baby?” Hongjoong leans down to kiss your soft arched back. All you can do is hum in response.

“I can’t hear you” He teases, rubbing his cock on your clit. You whine at the overwhelming stimulation.

“Yes please I—I want to cum again” You moan in eagerness. Without hesitation, Hongjoong enters you, hitting your g spot with ease at this new angle.

“Want to cum on you again Joong” You whimper into the soft sheets.

“F-fuck you’re already going to make me cum baby” Hongjoong moans picking up his pace.

Hongjoong’s hand reaches over to your hair and he grips onto the soft strands. He applies a gentle pressure, pushing your face deeper into the mattress. He fucks you deeper, earning a loud yelp from you. His roughness sends a wave of pleasure through your body, your tears can’t help but keep flowing down as he fucks you senseless. You grip onto the sheets as his thrust becomes sloppier.

“Cum with me baby” Hongjoong grunts holding onto both of your hips.

“Y-yess, so close” you whimper moving your hips with his.

“F-Fuck, fuck baby” Hongjoong moans loudly at the sight of your ass bouncing against his cock. Your pussy tightens at his voice, coming on his hard dick, you hit your second orgasm.

Hongjoong quickly pulls out and pumps his shaft on your soft ass. He releases a loud grunt as his warm milky cum splatters onto your back and ass. You moan at the feeling.

“Goddamn baby” Hongjoong moans and rubs his cum all over your butt.

“H—hongjoong” you whine and shake your hips in protest. He chuckles at your gesture and playfully smacks your butt.

“I’ll clean you right now baby” Hongjoong moves off the bed and grabs a damp rag from your bathroom.

After cleaning you, Hongjoong flips you over and pulls you to his chest. He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle at the gentle feeling.

“You’re all mine baby” Hongjoong whispers kissing your forehead. Slowly you feel your eyes go heavy, your body tired out from the hot steamy session. The sound of Hongjoong’s steady breathing mixed with yours draws you both into a deep sleep, holding onto each other.

-

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SURPRISE SURPRISE THERES A TRILOGY!

Read Part 3 Right Here 😏

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Author’s commentary: I am so so sorry for the delay on posting the sequel. I wanted to finish the Trilogy to post up right away at the same time😝. I really hope yall enjoy this. Don’t forget to to follow me for more. Feel free to scream in my comment and ask box🤭

[01zfan]

hello anton

boyfriend!anton x reader | 7.6k words

i recommend listening to n side by steve lacy when reading this! a mix of two requests that i felt were kinda the same :3

contains: anton gets a lil messy! protected sex (yassss), nothing else i can really think of.

“oh my god.” anton said breathlessly.

anton can barely take in the sight of you underneath him. anton sees your body that’s shiny from sweat move in tandem with his thrusts amd he watches your mouth slightly open while you moan. anton sees you take all of him, and he can feel it too. anton can see the way your chest heaves, each shaking breath in brings your boobs closer to his face and each time you exhale it ends with a tiny whine. your shy eyes flicker between where anton slides into you to his flushed face. anton gets high off the fact that you can only focus on his eyes for a moment before looking away, letting your head lean over the edge of the bed as you try to gather yourself.

the view you and anton make is mesmerizing. he just wishes it wasn’t so blurry.

anton blames it on his lack of preparation for the night. you two meticulously planned every aspect of the day, determined to finally be alone. there were some surprises along the way, like you showing up to anton’s door with hello kitty pajamas and your plushies in an extra bag. that was a minor bump in the road, anton knew it came with the territory of dating someone so cute. neither of you could deny that the plushies were a bit egregious, but it was something you said you couldn’t sleep without. anton wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, so he helped you take out all your plushies to lay them on his bed. it wasn’t an inconvenience to anton at all. what truly inconvenienced anton was the fact that he ran out of contacts and completely forgot to replenish his supply. it was unlike him to forget something so important; it was fair to say you distracted him.

so now anton had no choice but to look at your naked body through the fogging lenses of his glasses. he could’ve taken them off—they were half way down his nose threatening to slip off anyway. but anton had to have a clear view of you for your first time together. after you guys spent all week making sure everything fell in place for you to be together alone in his apartment he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

your planning started on saturday. usually early morning was when you guys were alone so you two knew you didn’t have time to waste. the moment you heard the door close you wasted no time getting on top of your boyfriend to straddle his hips. while you felt his body anton’s hands roamed frantically, lifting your shirt and cupping your chest over your bra. 

you moaned into anton’s mouth each time he gave you a gentle squeeze. you let your head fall back with a sigh, catching a glimpse of the show on anton’s macbook before bringing your focus back to him. in moments like these you couldn’t get many words out, anything in your mind being replaced with the thought of someone coming in and interrupting you guys. you spoke to anton through actions and the way you pressed your hips close to his told him you needed more. 

anton took the initiative to guide your back to his couch, slotting himself between your legs as he continued to kiss you. his grip on your chest only tightened when you wrapped your leg around his waist to pull his legs closer. anton left your lips to focus on your neck, breathing so heavy the sound of his huffs crackled in your ears. anton sucked and nibbled on the skin of your neck and your hand moved to the armrest of the couch to steady yourself. your other hand went to the back of anton’s head to press him deeper into your neck. you let him suck harder and you could feel his teeth indent your skin. when he bit down slightly you pulled away from him to see his glossy lips and blown out eyes.

“take your shirt off anton.” you whimpered.

immediately anton heeded your request, leaning back to lift his shirt over his head. 

before he could even put his hands on the bottom hem of his shirt, the door opened. you let out a sound of surprise and so did anton, his body whipping around to see who came through the door. you quickly got up from the couch too, pulling yourself from under anton to peer over the top of the sofa. 

sohee stood in the doorway, only frozen for a second before realizing the scene before him. after seeing you and anton’s position on the couch he rolled his eyes before walking fully into the room.

“you two are disgusting.” sohee murmured. 

sohee set his bag on his desk next to the door as he went to get on his computer. you and anton fixed your appearances and you cleared your throat.

“we weren’t doing anything.” anton said shyly. 

“yeah okay.” sohee scoffed while putting on his gaming headset.

“also you couldn’t knock?” anton said.

“it’s like eight in the morning. i thought you two would be asleep still.” sohee said.

this was a common occurrence when coming to the dorms. it was almost impossible to get a moment alone with anton, always getting interrupted right as things started to get really interesting. more times than you could count you and anton would be in the heat of the moment and have someone come through the door, or a guilty conscious would stop you from taking things further. 

there was a day when the two of you were locked away in anton’s room while sohee was in some classroom taking a test. making out was your favorite thing to do with anton when sohee wasn’t there, but sungchan being in the shared space of the apartment stopped you guys from going any further. you can’t say you didn’t try, but when you let your hand drift downwards anton held your wrist.

“i can’t focus while sungchan is right outside.” anton said quietly.

“he’s probably back in his room.” you whispered to him.

you made a feeble attempt to fight against his grip, smiling at the fact that anton was barely exerted any strength. despite anton having a hold on you and the upper hand in the situation, he became a blushing mess purely at the thought of being walked in on. even when you took off your shirt to entice him he would only look entranced for a moment before bashfully shaking his head.

“you look amazing, but i can’t. i’m sorry.” anton said, blush creeping across his face.

you understood anton’s reservations, but you wanted nothing more than to go all the way. it seemed like you two were destined for a relationship filled with heavy petting and interrupted make out sessions. it seemed like this situation had happened too much, with both of you hot and bothered on the couch while sohee was sitting on his computer.

“there’s food outside by the way.” sohee said.

you and anton left the room while sohee had his headset on. you shot sohee your meanest glare, sohee only rolled his eyes before focusing on the game. 

it was embarrassing being caught by sohee, but it was not nearly as bad as anton’s other roommates in the kitchen. they pulled themselves away from their food solely to tease you guys as you emerged from anton’s room. anton’s face was beet red by the time they were done asking their prodding questions and making jokes.

“what were you two doing in there with the door closed?” eunseok asked obnoxiously.

anton had to just lower his head while you laughed all of the comments off. it wasn’t until seunghan said something about making a big car fit into a small garage that you were stunned into silence. you were able to get out of the situation after that, saying you had a class to go to. anton nodded his head a little too quickly when you asked him to take you, extremely happy to get out of his current situation.

on the walk to your class you guys started planning how to be alone in his apartment. it worked out perfectly, convincing sungchan to throw a party at the place he shared with shotaro. all you had to bring up was an important game on campus and the rest was like clockwork. the hardest part of the plan was trying to get sohee to go. after anton groveled and promised to help him with his composing assignment he folded. 

the planning and devising led to the moment of you knocking on anton’s door, overnight bag and duffle in hand. you smiled big when anton opened the door, nodding to show you your grand scheme worked. you hugged and jumped into his arms. anton smiled from ear to ear at your excitement, closing your door while you were jumping.

anton took your bags and kissed your forehead, walking over to his room. you followed behind anton buzzing with every emotion, excited for what the night had in store for you both. 

it hit anton a little differently, he was suddenly nervous at what could potentially happen tonight. what if someone came in while you two were together? what if anton wasn’t good enough for you? anton turns around and looks at you, stuffing his hands nervously in his sweatpants. he sees you look him up and down, pointing at your duffle bag. anton hands it to you and you squat to the floor to open it.

“i have something for you. well for us.” you laugh.

anton peaks into your bag and sees all of your plushies, then anton sees you reach into the depths and pull out a matching pajama set for the two of you. 

anton sighed heavily at the matching hello kitty pajama set just to see your reaction. you still had a big smile on your face when you handed anton his set. when he looked a little hesitant all you had to do was slightly pout your lips and look crestfallen before he took the pajamas from your hands wordlessly. he changed into his set quickly, feeling ridiculous in the cute pajamas until he saw your large smile. anton almost thought it was embarrassing how willingly he’d do anything for you just to see you happy. anton followed your smile all the way to his bedroom, trailing behind you with your overnight bag and duffle bag.

you and anton set up your plushies on his bed, turning them away from your body so you could change. anton sat on the edge of his bed watching you too, not even trying to hide it. he debated on holding one of your hello kitty plushies in his lap to cover her eyes like he did when he was at your apartment. but when you took off your shirt anton forgot what he was thinking about completely. his hands instinctively went to his eyes like he hasn’t seen you naked countless times. when anton peaked at you through open cracks in his fingers you both laughed. 

when you were all dressed anton put his hands down, a light blush started to spread across his cheeks. you imagined you felt the same as him in this moment, your face becoming so warm it was almost uncomfortable. you gave anton a little twirl, laughing about how the pajama set was just a size too big. the sleeves hung past your hands and the waistband was loose on your waist. anton’s ears started to become a light red when you lifted your hand to let the loose sleeve drop to your elbow. anton gives you a big smile, one that lifts his glasses slightly on his face.

“you look cute.” anton said.

anton held out his hand to you and you came closer to him. you let anton put his hand on your waist, acting as your impromptu human belt. he doesn’t know why his hand gravitates to the dip on your body, resting there whenever he gets the chance. you like it though, because anton’s neck was like a magnet for your hands. on the rare occasion you got the chance to clasp your hands behind anton’s neck you took it. so you come closer to your boyfriend as he sits on the edge of his bed and put your hands on the base of his neck. anton has to tilt his head upwards to look at you, his large frames helps him take you all in.

“we look cute,” you bend down to kiss anton’s forehead. “we look super cute actually.” you say.

you started messing with the stitching of anton’s shirt. it as soft underneath your fingertips, and felt just textured enough to distract yourself from looking at anton for too long. standing above him in between his legs makes you feel jittery. anton pushed his glasses up his nose bridge with the hand that wasn’t on your hips and sighed contently. when he leaned his head against your hand, you had no choice but to look at him.

 “how many times have we been able to be alone?” anton asked.

he spoke to you but his mind seemed like it was somewhere else. his thumb mindlessly rubbed your waist, causing the extra fabric of your shirt to fold underneath his finger. you tried to recall the times you two have been completely alone and it was a struggle. even at your own apartment you lived with roommates and the apartment’s dog. the only time you could think was on a date, but even then it wasn’t completely private. study dates were in the public library and movie dates were always in packed theaters. 

“less than what i can count on my hand.” you answered.

maybe that’s why you were so nervous. it was hard to imagine what it would be like being truly alone with anton, if he would change knowing that you two couldn’t be interrupted.

anton sighed and you understood why. maybe you two would eventually move out soon so you could spend the rest of your days together. but that was a conversation for later. right now you wanted to focus on the finite amount of alone time you had with your boyfriend. almost instantly it was like a switch had been flipped, the unresolved tension between you two filled the room. anton’s other hand came to your hip and he held you there in place. his words bobbed in his throat like his adam’s apple and you saw anton swallow twice before you made your own move. 

you looked at anton with your most unassuming expression when you clasped your hands behind his neck and moved to sit on his lap. you couldn’t bare to say what you were doing out loud so you were happy anton got the hint. he opened his legs enough for your legs to rest between them. anton clasped his hands on your waist and smiled as you sat on his thigh.

anton looked up at you with shining eyes and you unclasped your hands to move some hair from his face. you let your hand rest on his shoulder, using the socket joint like a stress ball. when anton looked at you a certain way you subconsciously squeezed him.

“are you nervous?” anton asked.

you wish you were nervous. you have always been nervous, to the point that you knew how to handle it. when you felt the nerves building up and got so bad to the point where you couldn’t think, you knew what to do. you learned breathing exercises and counting things until your breathing steadied and you stopped shaking. but this was something you didn’t know how to manage. it started wherever you touched anton and blossomed around your whole body, feeling like a million ants were on you. it was going to consume you whole if you didn’t do something about it soon.

anton’s hand that was on your waist had found a way to sneak underneath your shirt and rest on your bare stomach. seeing your boyfriend in glasses was arguably an even bigger distraction. the way he kept constantly pushing the glasses up his nose bridge had you thinking things that left your whole body feeling hot. anton was no better, lifting the fabric of your shirt as an excuse to clean his lenses. you settled further on anton’s lap and enjoyed feeling him get tense underneath you. you liked teasing him the same way he teased you, trying to get a rise out of him.

it was a challenge for anton to not be tense, especially with you on him like this. he had a perfect view of your whole body and he could see you practically swimming in your oversized pajamas. he wonders if you purposely bought your sets to be the same size just so you both could revel in the difference. anton’s eyes kept going to his hand that was pressed against your stomach, a faint outline showing through your shirt. he tried to be subtle when let his hand drift a little lower to the waistband of your pants. anton’s middle and ring finger finds their way underneath the elastic, the rest of his fingers rest on the outside of your pants. 

you looked up at anton from underneath his chin, smiling at him trying to be inconspicuous. you bring anton in for a kiss and he reciprocates. the hand that isn’t drifting further into your pajama pants wraps around your body to give you stability. feeling anton’s hand on your shoulder makes you desperate, you push your face further into his with your quick kisses, and anton takes it all. with each push he pushes back and you think he might be just as desperate as you are. 

all of your plushies watch as you kiss anton all the way down to the bed, pushing up from him to stand up. anton gets on his elbows to watch you take off your ridiculously large pajama shirt, throwing it on the ground. anton follows your lead and takes off his shirt with one hand. he sets it on the bed next to him over a cluster of your hello kitty memorabilia.

anton fully gets on the bed and you get on after, maneuvering until you hover over him. it’s almost awkward, not knowing what to do next. you two have spent so much time trying to get to this moment you never stopped to think what comes after. you look at his eyes past his frames, how he pushes them up and lets his hand go to your waist. you kiss his lips again, and you can feel the cool frames of his glasses press against your nose. 

you both find your rhythm again together. like when you were sitting on his lap, anton cups your heat again. you straddle anton’s legs to give his hand that’s in your pants more room to work with and he presses two fingers against your covered slit experimentally. you nod your head and pause kissing him, too distracted by the sudden feeling. anton loves being the reason why you lose your train of thought and he loves being able to see it in real time. he presses his fingers harder, feeling the fabric stick to your folds. 

“can i—” anton asks.

“yes please.” you answer. 

anton puts his hand into your panties teasing your clit with his index and middle finger. you continue to kiss anton as he runs his finger through your folds. anton runs his fingers up and down repeatedly, letting your slick gather on his fingers. you start taking the lead on kissing, tilting anton’s face with your hands to put your tongue into his mouth. he moans and opens his mouth wider. you occasionally let your eyes open for a split second, to see anton’s glasses fog up and the way his lips move with yours. 

when anton puts two fingers inside of you, you lose the beat of kissing anton. you two had been in this position many times before, with anton finger fucking you while you squirmed above him and each time it was the same. you would go into it determined to keep up with his speed, and not lose your mind while kissing him. but it was no use—you were kissing him back a beat too late, and interrupting his tongue in your mouth with little whines. you were so distracted by the feeling of him inside of you that you had to abandon kissing him completely. you retreated from anton’s lips and put your face in the crook of his neck, panting right into his ear. he loved hearing you get desperate and feeling you push your hips back to meet his hand. 

anton’s arm across your back kept you in place and his legs kept yours spread. anton knew you had a habit of closing in on yourself like a supernova when you were close, evident in the countless times he’s fingered you before. he’s had to keep a hand on your thighs many times using gentle force to keep you from locking his hand in place. but anton had to admit he had gotten a little carried away in this position. when anton lifted his head to look down he saw that part you were spread the farthest he’s ever seen you. even as you were straddling him, anton had spread his own legs to keep yours even further apart. anton felt no resistance as he plunged his fingers in and out of you. it actually felt like your hole was pathetically trying to keep his fingers inside of you, pulsing around his digits like a heartbeat. anton saw it all, the way your legs bent and twitched as you got closer. anton could barely make out where your legs ended and his began, the matching pajama set throwing him off in the best way possible. 

when you pressed your hips to anton’s straining dick he groaned. you looked up from his neck to see his adam’s apple bob in his throat and how he pressed his head into his mattress. you pressed your hips against his again to try and illicit the same reaction. anton looked at your through his big frames. they were falling down his nose and you used a shaky hand to push them back up. anton smiled and stuck his fingers into you deeper, bending them at the knuckle. your head went back into your boyfriend’s neck and he cranes his neck to kiss your temple.

“thank you baby.” anton said.

you tried to say you’re welcome but it turned into a whimper. anton didn’t stop, his hand drifting down to grab a handful of your ass. you whimpered again feeling anton knead your supple skin. you couldn’t stop yourself from digging your fingers into the skin of his shoulder. the same way he was leaving a handprint on your ass you were leaving crescent moons on anton’s shoulder. he picked up the pace of his fingers and you couldn’t stop squirming. you felt the you started slowly losing your mind, trying to parts of anton to hold on to.

“you’re close, right?” anton asked.

you pick your head up from the crook of anton’s neck to look at his face. you nod your head like anton didn’t already know. your heart thuds in your ribcage and you’re certain anton can feel the beat against his sweaty chest. you nod your head pitifully when anton increases his pace.

“yeah” you whined.

“hold onto my arm.” anton said.

instantly you reached your hand behind you back to grab anton’s arm. you flail a couple times, grasping at nothing until you put your hand over anton’s the rests on your ass. anton lets go of your ass to grab your hand, pushing down so your stomach presses into his hard dick. you try your best to push your body down on your own accord but you can’t control yourself. all you can focus on is the way anton’s fingers bend and pump in and out of you. you let anton use his strength to press your body against him, loving the feeling of him twitching against your stomach. 

you clench around anton’s three fingers and hold his hand tightly. the orgasm is white and hot and you take it out on anton’s neck, biting and sucking his skin in effort to bring anton pleasure too. he notices your attempt and sighs contently feeling your tongue on his skin.

“just like that.” you whine in between kisses.

anton nods and keeps thrusting his fingers into you. the sound fills your room, even anton makes sounds of surprise as he feels how wet your are. he doesn’t stop until you are a shaking mess on top of him. you use the last of your strength to pull yourself from anton’s neck to see his face. he looks down at you over the top rim of his glasses. your body turns to jelly on top of him, resting your head on his while he slows down his fingers. your moans become high pitched and airy. 

by the time anton pulls his fingers from your heat you drooled onto his chest and your body almost feels numb. anton kisses the top of your head and you sigh, chest still heaving. you rest your head over anton’s heart and hear that his beat matches yours. it reverbs in your ear as you steady your breathing, and anton rubs you back in an effort to bring you back to earth.

you roll off of anton towards the edge of the bed when your breathing finally settles. you’re right next to the cluster f your plushies that anton covered with his shirt. anton turns to face you, propped up on his elbow as he places a hand on your stomach. he rubs the skin there and he can feel the muscles in your stomach tense. you’re so sensitive and nearly jumpy from his touches but anton can still see that hungry look in your eye. he pushes his frames up one more time and darts out his tongue to wet his lips. 

“are you okay?” anton asks. 

“yeah.” you answer.

anton’s fingers trace shapes over your abdomen. he only adds a little pressure behind his touches occasionally, just to gauge your sensitivity. your body doesn’t let you calm down. when you remember you’re truly alone in this apartment the same antsy feeling returns over your body. anticipation builds underneath your skin and in between your legs. the anticipation makes you put your hands over anton’s that rests on your stomach. you nod and pull his body towards you, trying to silently show anton you want him to get on top of you. he obliges, clambering over your body to hover over yours.

anton goes from his elbow to his palm to get a better view of you. he liked this angle better, this way he would be able to see your expressions quickly and see what you were looking at. he could see clearly from up here that you couldn’t really manage to look at him to too long, your eyes drifting to his nose or shoulder every so often.

“is this okay?” anton asked.

you nod and moved your legs, giving space for anton to slot himself between your legs. he watches your expression behind his glasses as he experimentally presses his bulge into your clothed heat. you sigh and nod your head vigorously. 

“i need you so bad anton.” you whine.

it’s frustrating how many layers of clothes separate you from anton. you pull down your pajama pants and ruined panties in one go. you don’t bother taking them off all the way before lifting your feet to push anton’s waistband down. you have never been this impatient in your life, but you feel like you may burst into flames if you don’t quell the fire that has been building up to this moment.

anton goes back on his haunches, putting a hand on your bent knee.

“i’ll be right back.” anton says before getting off the bed completely. 

you watch him walk over to his dresser and you finish taking off your bottoms, leaving you completely naked on his bed. the air in anton’s room is cold and you let your knees come together to hide your bare center. 

anton comes back to the side of the bed quickly, holding two condoms and a completely full bottle of lube. it makes your face a little hot, knowing the condoms and lube you two bought together was about to be put to use. anton feels it too, his face already dusted with blush. he awkwardly bends down to put the things in the crater of his sweater that still lays on his bed. 

you start thinking about your plushies that lay underneath anton’s sweater only for a moment before you see anton pull his pajama pants down. he’s left in just his boxers, standing on the edge of the bed looking down at you. you sit up and let your legs drape over the edge of the bed. you look up at anton and let your shaky hands go to his waistband. before you can pull his boxers down, he puts his hand over yours.

“are you sure?” anton asks.

“yes,” you nod your head. “are you?” you ask.

anton nods and puts his hands on his waistband next to yours. you two work together to take off his boxers together, his dick springing free. it bobs in the air, so close to your face if you stuck out your tongue you’re sure you be able to taste him. you reach out your hand and wrap it around the base of anton’s dick. it never ceases to amaze you how it’s so heavy and big but still sticks straight forward. you are also driven by the light sighs and gasps of anton when you drag your hand down his length. it glides easily, from all the precum that beads at his tip. you stick out your tongue and anton puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“i won’t last,” anton gently pushes your shoulders back until you lay down on the bed. he positions himself between you and the wall once you’re down. “and i’ve waited so long.” he says.

you nod and put your body at an angle to try and give anton more room. his body is large and awkward as he figures out the best position for both of your bodies. you two end up laying diagonally on the bed, with anton on his haunches slotted between your legs. you reach behind you blindly to feel around for the foil packet. when it’s in your hands you give it to anton, propping yourself on your elbows to watch him.

anton is gentle ripping the foil packet, putting the trash on top of his pile of clothes. you feel lightheaded seeing anton put the condom on himself. you can see his abs flexing and his dick twitching from the stimulation. you think about how anton touches himself when you aren’t around, if he throws his head back the same way he does when you give him a handjob. you have to stop yourself from asking him to touch himself and you bend your legs, spreading them more for anton. he pinches the tip of the condom to make sure it’s secure before coming to you. 

one of his hands is beside your head when comes down to kiss your lips. you reciprocate, reaching a hand between your two bodies to stroke his dick. he sighs against your lips before replacing his hand with yours. you both look down, the weight of what is about to happen starts sinking in. you start to realize how big anton truly is as he hovers above you. you wonder if he’ll be able to fit when he lets his tip prod at your slit. anton kisses your cheek when he looks down at you again. 

“tell me if it’s too much, okay?” anton says, pushing up his glasses.

anton intertwines his fingers with yours and kisses your knuckles as he lines himself up. he’s so big above you and the position you’re currently in only makes you feel smaller. your nose touches his adam’s apple as he kisses your forehead and slowly pushes himself in.

you both gasp when anton puts his tip in. you feel the stretch and anton feels your walls clenching around him as he slides further in. you clench around him in uneven intervals, your pussy desperately trying to get use to the stretch. your squeeze anton’s hand as he sinks further in, and it’s his turn to go into the crook of your neck as he tries to compose himself.  he curses into your soft and sweaty skin, kissing the skin there to try and soothe you.

“you’re so big.” you whine.

anton doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, your thoughts coming out without a filter. regardless, he can feel his dick twitch from you words and the way you whimper while taking him. he’s happy he was able to finger you and the extra lubrication of your previous orgasm helps anton fit inside of you snuggly. each time anton curses in your ear or gives you praise he can feel your walls closing in on him. you become a mess underneath him when he bottoms out, feeling like a heartbeat around his length. you finally open your eyes and move a hand to his shoulder, lifting him from the crook of your neck. you have to readjust his glasses for him, and there’s fog from the hot air radiating from your skin.

“keep going anton.” you say.

anton looks down at you then to your plushies that are covered up by his shirt. he pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he giggles a little bit and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, mind partially occupied by the feeling of anton easing back into you.

“good thing they’re not watching.” anton said quietly.

you wanted to retort but you couldn’t when you felt his hips kiss yours as he bottoms out inside of you again.

the same way anton’s hips were slowly bringing you over the edge of the bed anton was crossing over the edge of something himself. he was actively abandoning the meek version of himself that could only huff and whimper at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he was becoming someone more dominant, someone that pressed his hand to your lower stomach before he pulled out of you all the way and pushed inside of you again.

“can you feel me here?” anton asked.

he was close to your ear when he asked his question. anton’s breath stuck to your sweaty skin and the humidity between your two bodies fogged his glasses. 

“so big.” you said nodding your head.

“so small. and tight too.” anton replied.

when you dug your fingernails into his skin it gave anton the confidence to continue. 

he raises up from your body to look down at you. this gives a whole different angle, and it feels like anton might split you down the middle. 

anton knew he didn’t have a dominant personality. he didn’t hate it, he felt like the label of gentle giant suited him well. if his voice was any indication he didn’t know how to be the domineering type. he stuck with being the soft-spoken and calm one, even in your relationship. anton left his friends wondering how he even got the bravery to approach you or ask you on a date. honestly, anton didn’t really know either. he knew it was all your doing.

but when anton looked down at the sight below him through his low hanging glasses he felt different. anton could see you struggle to take all of him and he could feel your nails digging into his arms to steady yourself. he saw your eyebrows crease and your mouth open as you struggled to get anything besides tiny whimpers and moans out. anton could feel himself needing more, and he decided he would be the one to get it out of you. 

anton came to a complete stop inside of you. he loved the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and how expressive your eyes were when you looked up at him. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

anton physically shivered seeing the tears in the corner of your eyes and the way your voice was still shaky and pitched high from your whining. anton bends his body close to yours, so close that your nose pushes his glasses up. anton puts his arm underneath your knee to hike it up slightly and he lets his lips ghost over yours. 

before you can repeat your question anton quickly pulls himself out of you all the way and thrusts back inside of you. it’s the roughest he’s ever been with you, the force pushes your body slightly over the edge of anton’s bed. anton’s lips still ghost over yours, his eyes scan parts of your face that he can see. he sees the way your eyes close and the way your lips part. anton stills inside of you again, waiting for you to open your eyes. 

you keep eye contact with him, pupils blown out from lust when anton pulls all the way out of you again. you brace yourself for it, feeling his hand press deep into your lower stomach. anton thrusts into you again with the same force and you let your moan rip through the room, letting your head lean over the foot of anton’s bed. this is when anton pulls away from you guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. you do so immediately, loving the way anton manhandles you. you’re happy he spares you from hearing his commanding voice. if anton told you to do something right now you think you would finish on the spot.

you can barely recover before anton starts fucking you again. he doesn’t pull out all the way like he did before, but thrusts into you with a force that’ll push you completely off the bed soon. you have to hold onto his arm to stay in place. 

anton lets your small hand wrap around his bicep, he flexes to give you something steady to hold onto. he folds back over, putting a hand on the top of your head to try and push your body ever closer to his. the way you look constantly has him changing positions. anton can’t control his mind from telling him to give you everything he has. and anton watches you take it all.

“i just can’t get enough of you.” anton sucks on the lobe of your ear.

he ruts into you now, the momentum causing your chest to move. anton wishes he had more hands to touch you with, so he could tweak your nipples and press deeply into you stomach and stimulate your clit all at the same time. but anton makes the sacrifice of feeling himself in your stomach to move to your chest. he revels in the fact that you fit so easily in his hand and he can’t stop himself from taking your tit into his mouth, sucking up and looking at you.

anton can barely see your through his sweaty bangs that fall past the rim of his glasses and blocks his view. he knows you like it by the way you moan his name and arch your back. your hand goes to rub anton’s head, like you’re petting him for being a good boy. this only makes anton pick up the speed and push you further over the edge of his bed. you head leans completely over and you can hear the sound of his creaking metal frame and the dull thud of your plushies falling off the bed.

you think you hear something else, but it’s forgotten when anton pulls your upper body to meet his like you weigh nothing. before you can comprehend anything anton plants his foot on the ground next to the bed so he can fuck you sitting up. you put your foot on the edge of the bed beside him to get closer. anton laughs and kisses your face at your fucked out expression.

“not too much, right?” anton asks.

you shake your head and kiss anton back. 

“it feels so good.” you whine

“good. i just want you to feel good.” anton says.

his words come out a little rough, cut short by how determined he is to fuck you. when you see anton look at your chest again you arch your back up to him to give him access. he doesn’t suck on your chest, only runs his wet tongue whenever he can reach. he has to look at you over the rim of his glasses now, and he sees your blurry lips suck on his fingers when he presses them on your tongue. he can see shine coming from the corners of your lips and spit covers your chest. you are a complete mess and it’s all for anton to partially see. 

“you close?” anton asks.

you nod pitifully, words failing to get out as you nearly gag on anton’s fingers.

anton looks down to where your two bodies meet. he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth and he misses landing it on your clit. it falls on your abdomen and mixes with your sweat to glide down your body. anton takes his hand that was wrapped around your body to gather the spit and circle your clit. you start clenching around him uncontrollably the same way you did when he first slid in. anton hisses and works through the nearly blinding pleasure, continuing his motions.

“so tight i can barely move.” anton groans. 

you can barely keep your body upright anymore. your leg that was bent behind anton slid on his sheets and your thigh rests on his leg that’s planted to the floor. anton sits taller than you on the bed, and he kisses your forehead because he knows your close. you being so close makes anton desperate. he continues to hit the spot that he knows drives you crazy as he talks to you.

“i need to see you cum baby.” anton cooes.

you can only nod your head weakly before it hits you. you pull anton into you by his shoulders, your hands digging into the skin on his back. you’re the loudest you’ve ever been in your life, nearly crying out anton’s name with curse words wedged in between. anton continues to look down at you and kiss your face as squeeze around his length. anton waits for you to open your eyes to see the determined look you get. anton notices that you try to move your hips to meet his.

when anton cums he lays you down back to your original position. he forgets he’s wearing a condom when he stills inside of you after going as deep as possible. he ruts into you like you are taking every last drop and it ignites something inside of anton that he didn’t know existed. 

“fucking take it.” anton says quietly into your neck.

you lift your hips in response, and you milk anton as he empties into the condom. something was just ignited inside of you too.

when both of you come down from your high, anton settles his weight on top of you. you can only let him stay like that for a moment before tapping his shoulder. he looks up from your chest and is genuinely lost for a second like he forgot how big he is.

“oh shit. i’m sorry.” anton says.

the sweet innocent boyfriend is back in the blink of an eye. he pulls out of you to tie off his condom, looking back at your naked body as you roll on his bed. anton he picks up your plushies off the ground while you try and fight sleep away, slipping back into his hello kitty pajamas. anton gives you your clothes back before leaving the room. 

you can hear a faucet running, far off somewhere in another room before anton returns. he sits you up on the bed and wipes down the areas where he was the messiest. he gets the corner of your mouth and your chest, and he wipes down your thighs and core. you are still sensitive and preen from his touch. when you groan sleepily anton puts your head gently.

“you were amazing.” anton says. 

you open your eyes and pinch your boyfriend’s cheek, smiling at how cute he is. 

“you were too.” you say.

anton kisses your cheek and helps you back into your clothes. you both settle in bed, exerted and ready to sleep. you grab a hello kitty plushie and put it in between your two bodies. both of you kiss the stuffed animal’s head like it’s your baby.

you fall asleep on anton’s chest as he rubs your back, both of you finding a million different ways to say i love you

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 45

(Vargas is a Longhorn Minotaur bull. As a bull, he is territorial towards other fully mature ungulates. He doesn't view the students as fully mature so they fall into the same category as members of his herd. He is instinctually programed to protect his herd from outsiders and to keep a close eye on those he considers to be his calves. He considers The Human as a calf, so he is extra protective and territorial over the Human around the others.)

Warnings: yandere, illness, high fever illness, helplessness, yandere behavior, aggressive behavior, intense yandere behavior, platonic and romantic yandere, fever dreams, nightmare, blood, violence, dreamed non-con touching, harpy, Minotaur, shinigami, nightmare creatures,

~~~~~~~~

Your head was swimming as the room seemed to be spinning around you. Each breath was labored and felt painful as your lungs fought you for every inhalation. Somewhere in your mind you felt like you were overheating, but the blanket was too heavy to throw off of you.

"... Help..."

You croaked out, barely even audible as you tried to get someone's attention. Limbs feeling more like lead and your stomach lurching every time you opened your eyes, there was no choice but to close them and keep calling out. Hopefully someone would be able to hear you before you roasted in your skin.

"... Help..!"

A far too loud sound of footsteps slamming in the hallway let you know someone was present. The ear piercing creak of the door made you want to curl up and scream with how deafening it was to your ears. Soft and repetitive whimpers escaped your lips with low wheezing sounds from your labored breath. Someone approached from the side of the nest.

"What's wrong?"

The thunderous voice of whomever had answered your call made your body flinch in response. They didn't seem to realize how loudly they were speaking, or perhaps you were just sensitive to sound given the way everything seemed too much for you. Still, the sound wasn't what was bothering you.

"... Too hot... Can't... Move..!"

A blind panic was beginning to fill your confusion addled brain the longer your body struggled to respond to your commands. Whoever it was seemed to at least believe you as you felt the weight of the blankets lifting from you. The overwhelming heat continued to roll off of you but at least it wasn't trapped beneath covers anymore.

"Here, you should drink something. It has been a while since you last stirred."

Your heavy body was moved into an upright position, whoever it was that came to your side sitting behind you to let you lay exhaustedly against their front. A cold drink met your senses and seemed to spread throughout your body as you tried to gulp down the inviting liquid. If there was a flavor to it, you didn't recognize what that flavor was.

"Is there anything else I can do to help keep you comfortable?"

"... Tired..."

Your brain faintly registered the feeling of rough fur as you were settled back down into the bed, a rather hulking shape of your current attendant walking to the door. They paused a moment at the threshold and you wondered who it was out of the many that craved you violently. Perhaps that was not important as darkness pulled you back down into fitful sleep.

~•§•~

The ground beneath you rolled like waves, knocking you down and battering you as you tried to stand. Each wave taking you farther and farther out into what seemed to be a void of darkness that surrounded you. These waves were not gentle and slammed into you. Instead ot was like you were being hit by hundreds of pointed grains of rice.

Your skin felt sensitive to the touch and made you feel like everything stung whenever it touched you. Voices echoed with no clear origin in your mind, making you look wildly into the shadows for an answer. If it weren't for the rolling ground tossing you around, you may have been able to tell what direction sounds were coming from. Even as you struggled to orient yourself, another roll and pitch beneath you would send you tumbling back down into the hissing darkness.

"Come back here!"

A voice hissed from behind you and the jaws of a white wolf snapped at your leg. Even when you tried to run, what felt like a hand gripped your ankle to pull you back and throw you roughly to the unsteady floor. As your back hit into it, you couldn't tell if it was a solid or liquid, but it was enough to force the air out of your lungs.

"You're mine!"

Another distorted voice hissed and this time you saw the snapping jaws of a dark dragon catching your shirt and jerking you back. Claws tore at your arms as this beast pinned you to the pitching floor. That weight lifted before being replaced by the sharp feeling of fangs digging into your neck as a scream escaped your lips.

"Delicious little Human, keeheehee, you will be my precious little meal!"

The sudden feeling of falling made your body jerk as you dropped into a warm and thick liquid. It was viscous and filled your mouth when you tried to scream. The iron taste overwhelming you and congealing on your tongue as you tried to fight your way back to the surface.

"I am your one and only Hero! You can't leave me!"

The long teeth of an angler fish came shooting towards you and ripped greedily into your sides, cutting and pulling with each long fang dug into you. It felt like you were dragged through the thick liquid around you and thrown out into an icy tundra. The blinding white light making you close your eyes in agony as you shivered and cried out from disorientation.

~•§•~

Eric pulled the blankets up around your shivering body. Lord Hades had gone ahead and given you a bath with the aid of his magic before asking the Harpy to help you settle down again. Despite not being awake, you had audibly struggled against the water to the point the others could hear you whining and splashing. When the Shinigami emerged with your shivering and soaked figure, he informed them of your struggle and how you seemed to be unable to wake yourself yet still fighting.

The Harpy felt immense pity for you as you whimpered again and weakly tugged at the blankets as if to cover yourself completely. You had been switching from sweats to chills in your troubled sleep, leaving him and the others struggling to keep you comfortable. He felt somewhat relieved that the other staff had not made him abandon his duties to you and had instead incorporated him into their own rotation.

Even when he was not checking in on you, it made Vil seek him out and he was thrilled to actually be able to spend time with his son. Both Eric and Vil had been busy most of their lives as Vil was a child-actor from a young age, so they didn't often get to spend time together. Being able to talk to Vil and hear all about how much his son loved you soothed Eric's heart.

Truthfully, Eric had worried that Vil would never find someone that met his standards who wouldn't leave him behind. Even beyond the standards Vil had, there was always that painful part of his childhood that held him back from getting too close to others. The Harpy even distanced himself from his father until he became this untouchable idol of beauty.

Amidst the glamor and the coy smiles, Eric knew his son was hurting. He could do nothing to aid his boy as he was relegated to the sidelines of the young beauty's life. Being present with this fragile and gentle Human gave Eric such rich and fulfilling bonding time with Vil that he wouldn't trade for the world. Even if Eric was kept at arms length, you could get close and comfort the distant and brilliant Harpy who trusted you so deeply.

At least Vil had someone in his life he trusted. That was all Eric could ask for his son.

~•§•~

Your footsteps echoed in the shadowed woods. The ground stuck and pulled at your feet while you attempted to flee. No matter what you did, it felt like you were stuck running in slow motion.

Behind you, loud hoofbeats gained in volume as equine figures approached, their hands reaching out towards you greedily. No matter how you tried to run, they overtook you far too quickly. The hands pulled and ripped at your clothes, trying to grip to the soft flesh that lay beneath the covers.

You squeaked and cried out in fear when the centaur shadows began to kick at each other, fighting for the right to have you to themselves. Each hoof landing with loud thuds that hurt you just to hear. Cracking bones splintered through your mind as the shapes fought viciously and bucked, trying to get the other to stop fighting or die.

More shadowed figures joined the battle, leaving you trapped in the middle and trying to avoid getting hit by the limbs that lashed out. It seemed like a battlefield was forming around you as you tried to duck and escape the crossfire. While you struggled, a sudden stillness overtook the fighting figures. Dark shapes all turned to look upwards in silent horror as you followed their gaze.

Standing higher than the treetops was a pair of glowing green eyes. A low rhythmic growl escaped the shape before there was a sudden flash of bright green fire that escaped the maw of the beast. Glinting white teeth sent chills running through you as those around you screamed and burned in the flames.

Despite the fire that engulfed everything, you remained untouched and sheltered from the heat. But that didn't mean you were sheltered from the beast. That slender head covered in black scales ducked down to snap those large jaws around your midsection and hoist you off of the ground. No matter how you cried and struggled, the beast ignored you and took flight, the forest escaping far beneath you.

~•§•~

Divus frowned as he checked your temperature again, that damned Yeti standing by his side and watching closely. The Selkie was no stranger to ill students and had been both potion teacher and triage for the school for years already. He was skilled in caring for others so it felt rather insulting to have the Ape breathing down his neck while he took care of you.

If anything, the Selkie felt like there was a breach of territory by the Ape being so adamant to be present with him in your room. Though the presence of the Ape was insulting, Divus was determined to take his time and ensure you were comfortable. He halfway considered rousing you, but instead he was busy setting up a liquid drip into your veins.

You hadn't woken up for a few days and none of them wanted to risk you dying of dehydration. It was Divus who had suggested aiding you medically and the ancient Shinigami had agreed with him. Everyone seemed more on edge the longer it took for you to break this fever of yours and it was clear tensions were high.

Eric- who was supposed to leave a day prior- was instead extending the time he planned to spend in the dorm while you were ill. Divus didn't like yet another set of hands trying to take care of you. It had been difficult enough keeping the students away from your door even with Vargas standing guard outside of your room.

Students from every dorm had tried to visit you, even those who were not your guards had made an attempt to see you. It was like everyone was on some kind of pilgrimage to get to your door and leave offerings of fruits, vegetables, soft blankets, pillows, clothing, gold, anything that they could offer. Some Royal Sword Academy students had even made the trip across the island and up the mountain to Night Raven grounds.

News of your illness was impossible to contain and countless countries had been hounding Crowley for updates. All of the prior representatives- minus Rattigan- had reached out to check on your wellbeing. Scientists begged to be allowed to asses your current state and run tests to see if they could be the ones to break your fever. All had been turned away.

If the current behavior of those on and off of school grounds was anything to go off of, the school was likely to be put under scrutiny again. Divus wouldn't let them take you away. Not without a fight.

~•§•~

Slowly your eyes opened and you tried to look around, feeling like your limbs were too stiff to really function. Everything was sore and you felt as if you had been put beneath the wheel of several cars. Your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to wet your lips and move your neck to look around you.

Sparkles danced across your vision as you whined, slowly forcing yourself to be louder in the off chance someone was nearby. Your eyes trailed up the nest to see an odd little device that reminded you faintly of a baby monitor. The sound of your voice was foreign to you and felt scratchy in your throat as you whined again, louder this time.

"... H- Hello..?"

The moment you spoke, the door flew open. Standing there was Vargas, his eyes wild as the ensured you were alright. His horns stopped him from walking straight into the room and you almost giggled when he seemed to be struggling to understand his own horns were keeping him back. More footsteps approached as the man finally tilted his head and entered the room, several more coming in behind him.

You recognized the faces of those who entered the room. From the professors, to the staff, to Vil's father Eric, to Papa Hades. All of them looked worried and seemed more than relieved to see you were awake despite how disoriented you were.

Divus was first to sit on the nest next to you, resting his hand on your forehead and sighing in relief. From what he could feel, your temperature had finally gone down from that worrying fever and felt normal to the touch. You leaned into his hand and the Selkie smiled at you, adoring the gentle way you responded to him.

You had enough stress from those around you, he was going to do everything in his power to keep your stress down.

"Headmage Crowley," Divus said, not looking up from you or your confused expression, "I would like to formally adopt (Y/n)."

"What? No. She is-"

"Without a family. Without any documentation beyond this school. She is alone and I don't want her to stay that way. I would like to formally declare her as my daughter."

"... Then I hope you are willing to fight for that role. Trein, Lord Hades, Vargas, Sam, and Clay have already requested the same... Unless we all agree to take on that role and share to equally, all of us will be fighting over who gets to be her father officially. Even I endeavor to do the same."

You almost frowned, but felt too tired and drained to argue with the beasts. Even if they were trying to choose something for you again, you couldn't really argue with Divus' logic. Part of you had even wondered if accepting one of the many professors and other older beings as family would be able to protect you from those that romantically seemed to pursue you.

Perhaps claiming one of them as your parent was actually a good idea. For the time being, you tried to focus on sitting up to talk with them. This most recent illness telling you what you already knew; you needed to try and avoid the constant stress that surrounded you, and you would need their help to do so.

Hopefully the students that took interest in you didn't view it as a threat to them as well.

[itsgivingmami]

When Did You Know? -Rhea Ripley

Summary: “When did you know?” He asks and Rhea raises a brow at him, prompting him to explain. “You wanted to marry her,”

WC: 1905

Warnings: none(if you spot any lemme know)

I’m high, enjoy🍃

Rhea holds a champagne flute watching you from across the backyard, sitting with your sister the two of you are giggling at what ever is in the gift she’s given you. With the way it send a red flush across your face she makes a note to pester you about it later.

“So,” it’s Damian who wanders over and she’s relieved, not that she didn’t love the family and friends invited to your engagement party but someone she didn’t have to be on her best behaviour around was always welcomed. “Enjoying that?” He teases pointing at the flute.

“I feel like I’m going to crush it,” she responds, staring down the offending drink. Damian chuckles and shakes his head following her gaze to you and smiling.

“When did you know?” He asks and Rhea raises a brow at him, prompting him to explain. “You wanted to marry her,”

Rhea looks back to you and you meet her eye, she sees your face soften and smile at her mouthing a small ‘hi’ to her. She winks back to you before your attention is pulled away again. When did she know?

~

The light from the moon came in the open window, a warm breeze flowing into the room making the curtains flutter. The dogs snore peacefully at the end of the bed, practically dead to the world for the next couple hours before the sun rises.

You and Rhea lay in a comfortable silence, your bare legs tangle together under the plum sheets and your torso press together as you lay on her. Your face tucks into her neck as she strokes your hair, relishing in the afterglow content to just feel you and gently drift to sleep.

“I think I can feel my bones,” her eyes snap open as you mumble into her neck, for a moment she wonders if she misheard you? Or maybe you were talking in your sleep? Which she’s never heard you do, but surely that made more sense than you feeling your bones.

“Hmm” Rhea kisses your head, which is probably the safest response at this point, “your bones?”

“Like in my body I feel them if I think about it,” you explain, your hand strokes along her ribcage to emphasis your point. “Do you feel yours?”

You picked your head up to look into her eyes, ready for a serious answer. Rhea on the other hand was fighting her self control trying not to smile at you lovingly. She pulled her lips into a thin line to hide her love for you and pretended to try.

“Not feeling anything” Rhea responds and you pout at her before rolling over with your bare back exposed to her, “you’re upset because I can’t feel my bones?”

“Yes!”

~

“You’re sure you want to meet them?” Rhea asks again, slowing her steps as you walk home from dinner. It’s risky with Rhea growing fame, but the setting sun is too warm to deny and if anyone had recognised her neither of you had noticed walking hand in hand chatting. She had invited you over to her place during dinner, starting to feel guilty that you two always ended up at yours. Now, she was regretting that choice.

“Yes I’m sure,” you laugh as she asks you for the thousandth time, surely they couldn’t be that bad right? “Keep up,” you pull her along not allowing her to stall you any longer.

“I just feel like there might be a better time to introduce you,” Rhea bargains and you roll your eyes playfully turning to face her.

“They’re important to you,” you say while pointing at her, “I want to know about everything you love,” you tell her, she allows her shoulders to relax and grabs your pointing hand bringing it to her lips to kiss it.

“Okay,” you two begin walking again and you wrap your arms around hers, “they’ll be excited”

As you walk up to her door and she unlocks it she puts her hand on the knob and turns to face you again.

“Don’t you dare ask if I’m sure,” you say and smile as she grumbles at you and opens the door. Up until now you hadn’t felt nervous, instead distracted by quelling your girlfriend’s anxiety about you’re meeting them. Now you were being faced with the reality that if they didn’t like you, how would you and Rhea stay together. She closes the door behind you quietly, her hand touches your lower back and she leans down to your ear,

“Ready?” You take a deep breath, you could do this. She meant to much to mess this up. You nod confidently and you feel her stand back up. “Babies!”

The sound of her dogs is thunderous as they round the corner, you spot Barry first as he slides around the wall and begins to sprint full force down the hall.

“Oi!” Rhea tries but it’s too late, you’ve resigned your fate and brace yourself. His jowels bounce with slobber as he runs, his ears standing up as he leaps directly at you and sending you to the floor on your ass. Luna comes running behind your head to kiss your forehead and Rhea stands frozen. There’s a moment where she’s sure that you’ll be upset and walk out considering her ninety pound menace just sacked you but your laughter stops the thought.

“Hi babies how’re-“ Barry licks at you and you fall backwards giggling and reaching up to pet Luna. “Pretty girl,” you tell her smaller dog as she more politely licks your nose. Rhea could cry watching you meet them, pet them and give them small kisses slobber and hair be damned. She walks over to you offering a hand and pulls you back to standing.

“It was really rough,” you tease, “but I made it.”

~

The pain in her shoulder was searing and she wanted nothing more than to relax without this goddamn sling but compared to the anger in her chest it felt mild. It replays in her head again, walking out with the belt around her waist and leaving it behind in the ring. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, stubborn tears falling from her eyes as she sat on the end of the bed.

“Baby,” your soft hand comes to hold her jaw and Rhea shakes her head, no matter how many times you go through a rough patch she’s never learned to let you see her cry. Your fingers gently pull her chin up and she’s too tired to fight it, tears fall off her jaw to your hand. You take a step closer to stand between her legs and pull her head into your sternum, the sadness and frustration she’s been holding breaks and she sobs against you. You hold her tight as she cries against you,

“I’ve got you,”

~

It was awful. Ridiculously bad. Downright unholy and probably frowned upon in most countries while being loathed by the majority of people. Except Rhea, your girlfriend loved the way you danced.

Well, “dancing” might be a reach. It’s more, flailing and hair flipping but accompanied by your terrible singing and wearing her t-shirt Rhea found herself drooling at your breakfast island.

“Hungry?” You ask, pausing your… movements to attend to the pan. As you turn around Rhea swallows,

“Starving,”

~

Your sister brings you a cup of tea and a glass of water before sitting on the couch next to you. The front of your head is pounding from crying, you reach for the water hoping to alleviate some of the pain. As you chug the glass water falls from your hair to your shoulders and you shiver.

“What happened honey bee?” She asks gently, her warm hand wraps around your cold one and feeling it close to ice she wraps both in her own.

“We starting arguing about something,” your breath seems to stutter as you speak, “I don’t remember what and then we fought for so long and then she told me to leave,”

You start to cry again and your sister pulls you into a hug, she cooes at you but you can’t focus on her. All you can think about is Rhea.

“Listen you’re not going to believe me,” your sister pulls her sleeve over her thumb and wipes your tears, “but I think you two will be fine,” you scoff at her and shake your head.

“She told me to go, we’ve fought but she’s never told me to go,” you insist, “she doesn’t want me,” you resign. You two are silent as you leans against her, you’re dozing off when a loud knocking makes you jerk.

“Ah-“ your sister hisses holding her cheek and going to the front door. You stand up from the couch to clean up the pillows you’d knocked to the floor. Heavy squeaking footsteps made you turn swiftly seeing Rhea in the door way.

“Rhea,” you say in disbelief looking her up and down, her dark hair is slicked to her forehead and dripping onto the hoodie she’s wearing. Not that it’s bothering her, she’s clearly soaked through and she wipes her face with her forearm.

“I’m sorry,” she starts as soon as she closes to you, “I shouldn’t have told you to go, it’s cowardly and you didn’t deserve it and I wish I could take it back,”

“Rhea,”

“But I can’t so I hope you can forgive me because when you left I felt it, that feeling that I can’t stand that I don’t know where you are or if you’re safe,” she’s pacing while she explains ignoring your attempt at her attention,

“Rhea”

“But I’ll feel it, if you want me too. I would understand after what I just did and what I’m doing now,” it’s clear she’s not hearing you so you take a few steps towards her, she finally looks at you “but I just needed to make sure you were okay because I love you and-“ Rhea had expect you to slap her, punch her, or scream in her face; but kiss her? You pullled away from her lips gently,

“I forgive you,”

-

Rhea sipped her coffee as she exited the shop, she was due back in the center in a few minutes. She sped walked down the street and went to turn around the corner before slamming into another body.

You had expected to hit the ground and braced for it surprised to feel yourself upright, opening your eyes seeing the woman you just collided with had caught you.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeak and the woman gives your a once over making sure you’re steady before she lets go, “I’ll get you a new coffee,”

“You’re sweet,” the tattooed stranger responds, “but I’m late,” she explains, you pat your imaginary wallets hoping to give her cash you don’t have with you.

“What’s your name?” You ask and the look on her face you find hilarious, was that such an odd question? “I owe you a coffee”

“Rhea Ripley,” she answers, walking around you slowly in the direction she needs to go, “ you should dm me pretty runner girl,”

She quickly makes her way across the street and away from you left wondering how you’re supposed to know which profile is hers?

~

Rhea tipped her flute back and finished the rest of the liquid in her glass before looking at Damian and shrugging,

“I just knew,”

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 04. FELLED BY YOU

a/n: i've served three chapters of angst and teasing and almosts that never came to fruition. but today is the day! today logan howlett gets fucked. i mean...does the fucking. you know what i mean. there's gonna be some hints of pain, but really he's starting to focus more on getting it right this time around. so be prepared for the filth to come.

summary: the importance of you slammed into him during your two weeks spent apart. yet when he's forced to confront the truth, he finds himself stuck between having you or hurting you.

word count: 9.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, wade continues to be the worlds worst wingman, yearning, angst, fluff, flirting heavily, nasty sex, p in v sex, logan gets flashed in a good way, oral (f receiving), reverence and romance, logan is an idiot until he's not, exhibitionsim (kinda if you squint really hard), pain play cause he's a whore, he lifts you cause he's strong like that.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Time didn't exist in a linear line for him. Never a single point that drew his life from one spot to another. His constant loss of memories and different universes left him numb to the concept as a whole. He found it better to ignore the thought—move past the tragedies that came next quicker than what already happened.

What was time to an immortal man who'd lived through too much already?

What did he have left to lose?

He never found himself counting the minutes, hours, and days before you. To him, they were a jumble of things that only shifted to become one solid fact. A year he'd never get back. Moments he might one day lose. Faces he would one day come to outlive—to see grow old and pass. People he'd never meet again.

He didn't bother with it.

Until he spent a night wrapped around you and fell asleep with no nightmares. He woke up long before you ever would—dawn barely cracking across the night's darkened armor. The clock on your nightstand read five a.m., but his body shouted something different. He wasn't fatigued like every other morning coupled with endless nights of no sleep, dreading the next time he had no choice but to close his eyes.

Logan almost wished he crawled back into the bed in order to watch you be roused from sleep with the beep of your alarm. He should have. At least then he'd be counted as a smart man for not sneaking out and heading home. Even thinking of what came to your mind when you woke up sent pain down his chest.

"Punch buggy!" A gloved fist slammed into his shoulder with enough weight behind it to cause the car to jerk left.

"Fuck!" he growled, slamming his foot on the brake and whipping around to embed his claws in Wade's leg. "Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!"

"Rules of the highway Log–"

Red splattered against his makeshift yellow suit as he dug his other set of claws into Wade's chest with a roar. In his peripheral vision he caught sight of a small red car whizzing by. The driver laying on the horn with an anger Logan felt at the base of his stomach. Wade pointed to it with a smile in a meager attempt to lighten the mood.

He wouldn't say he was on edge. That would be a pathetic attempt at lying.

He passed edge one week and six days ago. Twenty-four hours after leaving your apartment Logan met the edge of his anger, and flew right off without bothering to keep himself in check. Two weeks without your presence. The sound of your voice, the warmth of your scent. Two weeks of a fucking mission Wade convinced him to go on; with the claim that they'd be back before Friday.

Which wound up extending to yet another five days of being stuck in the back fucking woods of Virginia—stuffed into an already small truck. The rhythmic clunk of the shovels in the bed slamming against the side already had him gritting his teeth. An hour of driving with Wade's game of spotting cars caused him to almost crack his molars.

Logan wasn't a patient man.

He swung first and asked questions later. That was his way of living. Two weeks of counting the seconds as they passed by like molasses only seemed to reaffirm that fact. He knew irony lingered in the truth; an immortal man who held less than an ounce of patience in his body.

There had to be a joke in there somewhere that Wade would no doubt yank out before the end of this trip.

Retracting his claws, he settled back in his seat to glare at the deserted long road ahead of them that seemed to lead nowhere. The car became a prison he couldn't escape an hour ago. And the appeal of trying to kill the man beside him only grew the longer he sat there. Logan already felt like a piece of shit for leaving with no explanation. He didn't need Wade's blood to make it worse.

With a huff he slammed open the car door and got out. The air was hot, stale, and left him choking in the leather suit that already clung to his skin. He tugged at the collar, sucking in air to get his heart to stop racing.

It proved to be difficult when your face distraught with tears began to morph, take shape into the you he couldn't save.

"Something tells me this has nothing to do with not getting to visit pound town before we left." When he was met with a wall of silence, Wade's head fell back with a groan. "Please hold while we deal with another existential crisis guys. He'll get there eventually."

Logan's fingers curled into fists. Wade—relentless as he was—refused to be pushed away this time. He leaned against the car, twirling his baby knife as Logan tried to hold back every ounce of fucking anger that needed an outlet. None of it was pointed at the Merc with a Mouth. Not even the nonsensical comments could penetrate Logan's otherwise silent exterior.

No, Logan knew exactly where the anger was directed. He knew that all of this rage stemmed from his own self loathing. For doing to you what he knew would hurt the most. For doing...exactly what the other you did.

Leaving wouldn't give him the opportunity to run from his pain. Fuck he figured that out a long time ago, but that never stopped him from trying.

He was an old dog with one singular trick. Hurting the ones he loved.

"Just call sweet angel up, say that you're with your old pal Wade, and explain in extreme detail how you'd love to bend her over every surface in that apartment you stare longingly at like you're waiting for her to return from war."

Telling him to shut the fuck up would only incur more bullshit to leave his mouth. Logan chose the easier route and stared into space; focused on the way his heart began to slow the more he thought about that night. How you slept against him without fear. Your hands pressed to his chest, face tucked into his shoulder. Somehow in the span of a few hours you were able to make him feel normal again.

"How much longer do I have to deal with your fuckin' bullshit?"

"One day give or take who drives."

"You're not driving."

Wade shrugged. "Your mistake." With a swift turn, he leapt into the bed of the truck and grabbed the two shovels. "Now give me a smile with those Tony award winning teeth of yours cause we've got work to do."

The endless nothingness of fields and flat ground would eventually drive him insane. One more day didn't sound awful if he knew that you were waiting for him at the end of all this. But that remained the problem he couldn't solve—the nightmare that followed him in his waking world. What if you weren't there? What if that was his final chance and you made the choice for him?

He sighed, squinting his eyes against the sun. "Alright. Give me the damn shovel."

The constant tapping of your boss's pen was going to drive you insane. Although if someone were to ask you, this wasn't the first time in the past two weeks that you were holding onto your temper by the skin of your teeth. In fact, you couldn't recall a time where your body and mind had been this on edge. As if you were a rubber band pulled tight, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

"Three days off?" Her voice remained monotone—grating against your already racing mind.

"Yes," you replied.

The request would go through without issue; you'd been here before, asking the same routine questions. Only this time you felt the unease from that morning begin to work its way through your body. Doubt lay heavy on your heart the more you ran each minute in your mind. Combing over where you might have gone wrong—what would have made him want to leave.

Waking up without Logan wasn't what set you on a path to self-destruction. At first, you were logical enough to assume that he was a busy man; being a superhero and all. He must have a good reason as to why he slipped out of your bed before the sun could fully rise, leaving behind nothing but flowers that now sat dead in a vase, and a brand new door.

Two weeks without a single word—without an explanation or a reason—began to grate on your mind. Pulling at each worry with an intensity that left you winded. Until you were forced to confront the idea that this whole thing...what you and Logan intended to start...wasn't what he had in mind to begin with.

"I'll grant you the days." The slow build of relief flooded your nerves that were already shot to shit. "Just next time you decide to sneak a guest in, please make sure he signs for a visitor's pass."

A familiar wave of discomfort spilled in your chest. Getting caught wasn't on your schedule of things to happen when it came to your job. Then again, having Logan in your life wasn't a part of your plan either. Yet somehow that happened as naturally as taking a deep breath of fresh air.

He didn't step into your life with a stoic aura of peace.

Logan crashed into it head first without a choice.

You remained a gravitational pull, an orbit he couldn't escape from, and without warning he'd been pulled to you. Where he'd exist until it was time for him to be set free.

What remained of your fear—the one thing that kept you from falling wholeheartedly—was that one day Logan might come to the decision all on his own. Without bothering to tell you, or let you in on the secret. That after all that happened...he might want to be set free. If he didn't already.

The walk back to your apartment dragged longer than it should. Your steps were slower, mind entirely distracted from the task at hand, and body aching from lack of sleep. Two weeks without Logan left you questioning why you bothered to pursue him at all. Why had you given him so much freedom to roam in and out of your life? Especially when you'd never done that with any other person before.

You knew the answer.

Logan offered you a chance to live in a way you never thought of before. Fear of the unknown kept you complacent; stuck in your ways. In such a short time he managed to slowly peel away what still remained. The anxiety that lingered in your heart at the thought of being loved—of falling in love.

He shattered your walls without even trying.

Accepting that is what left you struggling to breathe after drowning in what he gave. You were supposed to be the one to lead him out of the dark waters, back to a shore of safety, yet somehow he pulled you right in with him.

That is what kept you right on the edge of whatever this could possibly become.

You wanted to ask him why he left. Dig into his thoughts and pull free your answers. He might give you a fight—knowing what Wade told you about him having a tough exterior—but this wasn't nothing to you. All you wanted was to know that he held the same belief. That this meant something.

Calling his phone never worked—going directly to a voicemail box he never set up. Texting him wasn't an option, and you couldn't exactly write him a handwritten letter to send off without an address of where to go. Which left you here. Stuck in the radio silence and waiting for a response to crack through all the static.

Digging for your keys at the bottom of your work bag nearly caused you to miss the woman standing by your door. Her hair was tied into a messy updo, showcasing the familiar white streaks you'd seen before. Something akin to joy flushed through your body as Vanessa pushed away from the wall—two coffees held in her hands and a paper bag that smelled eerily like bagels tucked into her arm.

"I wonder when I'd see you again," you said, catching her smile as you slid the key into your new lock with ease.

"Blame Wade. He's been keeping me hostage for weeks."

You snorted, tossing your bag and coat on the table. The flowers—now dried and falling to pieces—still remained the centerpiece of your apartment. Petals were scattered along the wood, some now on the floor. But you couldn't find it in yourself to throw them out. You still held out hope that they might bring him back to you, even if he didn't want to return.

"I don't need to know the gory details," you sighed, accepting the tepid coffee and cold bagel. "How long did you wait?"

"Thirty minutes." She fell to your couch with a groan, kicking off her heeled boots. "I figured you were well into the first stage of wallowing and might need someone to drag you out of it."

"I'm not–"

Her eyes fell to the bouquet, lips pursed as if fighting a smile. "And those are from who again?"

"Just because I kept them doesn't mean I'm wallowing." You collapsed beside her, exhaustion withering your body quicker than the sun did with those flowers. "I just haven't cleaned yet."

"Right."

Vanessa had been your friend since Wade moved in across the street and accidentally almost killed you in the middle of the street. She wound up apologizing for him with two bottles of wine and hours of conversation. Even in the midst of their breakup, she still solidified herself in your life with nights of movies and days out in the city. You never thought you'd get a friend out of living here, but somehow life without Ness in it felt bleak.

Which gave her the ability to read you like an open book. She'd seen what you looked like after a breakup—she’d endured countless talking stages with you—and was able to pick out the signs of what your pain looked like.

"He's coming back, you know."

Your heart fluttered at the mere mention of his existence; you silently cursed yourself for it. "Did Wade tell you that?"

She nodded, taking a sip of the shitty cold coffee with a grimace. "I love the man, but he has the worst timing."

"Timing?" You sat up, alert for the first time since waking up alone. "What are you talking about?"

"I figured you didn't know," she sighed. "Logan didn't leave because he wanted to. Trust me I'm pretty sure if given the choice he'd lock both of you in here until we had to call the police." She didn't give you room to interject—even as you started to speak. "He's an X-Man babe. And well Wade—dipshit that he is—decided to drag him on a mission at the worst fucking second."

The words hung in the air for longer than either of you wanted, but your mind was racing a mile a minute. Mission. A fucking mission. How could you have been so quick to jump to conclusions?

You knew who Logan was the second you met. Understood the importance he held. Yet you never pieced together that two weeks of no contact might have meant something entirely different than a breakup.

"He's..."

"On a mission," she replied—lazily biting into her bagel.

"With Wade?"

She spoke around a mouthful of cream cheese. "If he could die, he'd be a goner."

Already the picture was starting to form. Logan stuck for two weeks with a shitty phone that didn't work, constantly bugged by a man who had a mouth that shit talked faster than he could think. He left to try and be the man he wanted people to see him as. The man that still held a legacy in this universe.

You simply forgot to contend with the fact that you weren't just opening your life up to James Howlett...you were making space for the Wolverine too.

"A year's worth of panic just crossed your face. Wanna talk about it?"

What was there left to say? That you'd been an idiot for believing Logan would leave you high and dry? For letting your doubts get the better of you yet again? Or should you explain that for two weeks you felt an emptiness that scared the absolute shit out of you? As if he ripped a hole in your chest with his claws and had no intention of patching it back up.

"Wade told you this himself?"

She stood, heading straight for the vintage cabinet in your living room that held whatever liquor you kept in stock. "More or less. It was hard to hear him over all the screaming in the background."

Somehow her words didn't phase you—even as she continued to speak about the possibility of what they were up to. You caught the words shovel and stole a truck but nothing beyond that. You took the glass of wine without question—mind focused entirely on the man who managed to turn your word on its head in such a short time.

"When do they get back?"

Her lips curved into a smile that told you one thing: I got you right where I want you.

It took no time at all for you to be thinking of the next time you saw him and hiding it from her felt like trying to build a wall with space on the sides. Enough room for her to sneak into your mind and tug out the truth.

"Tomorrow." She took a sip, settled back down beside you, and reached for the remote. "Wade's throwing a party. Your attendance is mandatory."

A second barely passed before your response was spilling free. Excitement now replacing the doubt that willed itself to stay.

"I'll be there."

"Who had money on the great honey badger expedition?" Wade called out to the rather full living room.

You sat curled on the couch beside Vanessa—a red solo cup filled with shitty beer perched on your knee, condensation spilling across your hand. Dopinder was halfway into a story about his first solo job, Colossus was crammed into a small seat, and Logan sat at the table—his eyes a searing burn against the side of your face.

"Shit," Vaness sighed, digging into her front pocket—a twenty slapped into Wade's hand with a kiss.

You gasped. "Traitor."

"I really thought we were gonna win."

"Who did you bet against?" Your eyes caught sight of the cash getting slipped in Althea's hand—her smile cocky enough to give Wade a run for his money. "Of course."

"If it makes you feel better, Wade is done trying to play matchmaker between you two."

You wondered if you said the word bullshit loud enough it would penetrate through Wade's wall of not listening. The temptation was there. Though you decided to remain silent...for Logan's sake.

Since they returned, he barely said more than a few words to you. Them being hello and I tried to call. You both knew the second part was purely fictional, but figured it was easier to remain silent about it. Arguing wasn't something you were keen on doing—given that he had more than enough time to offer an explanation.

Yet he chose to put distance between the two of you. Sitting in sullen silence, a glass of whiskey nursed slowly and eyes latched onto the way you laughed.

He wanted to speak to you. Tell you how often he thought of you—how many times he made a note of something interesting or funny to regale you with once he returned. But the knowledge that you might very well hate him for leaving silently and without a promise of return, put everything to the back of his mind.

Reconciling with you was the first thing he planned to do.

Yet like he did in his own universe, he chose to keep you at arms length. Away from the insanity of his volatile emotions and dangerous demeanor. You were too good; too breakable.

"Fox and friends!" Wade's voice dragged his attention away from you. Even mere feet away Logan felt you right down to his fucking bones. "I have a special surprise for you heathens. Yeah that's right I'm looking at you Sugar Bear."

A hand gripped Logan's shirt, dragging him up from the chair as he struggled not to slam his fist into Wade's throat. "We're gonna play a little game I like to call Forty Five Minutes In The Closet. I'll pick two people and they'll have to hide the two hundred and seventh bone in the human body."

"It's called seven minutes in heaven. Dumbass," Al muttered.

"No. No, that's something else."

Logan felt the hair rise on the back of his neck at the sight of your smile. How you lit up at Wade's humor. You wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, yet he couldn't place a time where you looked more beautiful. If it weren't for the grip Wade had on his shoulder, he'd be asking you to meet him in the hallway—an apology already set on the tip of his tongue.

"Anyways!" Wade shook him violently—knowing that if Logan met his irritation with violence he'd have another problem to worry about. "I nominate this broad shouldered—thick muscled—thunder cunt from down under cunt to be our first contestant."

His eyes flicked to the side, lips curving into a smirk that could only be categorized as diabolical. "Drink some water girls cause things are about to get good."

Vanessa smiled, yanking your arm into the air without warning. "I nominate her to go with him."

"That's right you do baby!" Wade shouted.

"No," Logan growled, yanking his arm away from Wade.

Only to catch how your face fell. You tried to mask it with a laugh, but he could see the damage was done. All the doubts that you fought against began to slowly rise to the surface; each moment spent with him now a time you wanted to get back. But like a trooper, you stood with a glare in Vanessa's direction, and walked towards the hall closet barely big enough for two coats and a broom.

"Go go," Wade shoved him (violently) in your direction, and held the door for Logan to squeeze in beside you. "Now some ground rules. The walls are paper thin so if you end up dancing the Devil's Tango, we'll be making popcorn to go along with the show. Oh and any procreations that come out of this automatically get named Wade."

"You're disgusting," Logan snarled.

"Wade I don't think–"

You heard a loud have fun from everyone outside before the door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed the both of you whole. Yet you felt how close he stood even with your eyes still trained on the door. Heat radiated off his body in waves, soaking into yours with ease. His breath came in quick but released slowly as if he was trying his best to keep his temper steady.

At this point blaming him for losing it wasn't an option. Not when you never expected the night to wind up like this.

You sucked in a deep breath, hands shaking when your heart began to race. You tried to appease every improper thought that entered your mind, but failed spectacularly as they kept on coming. Another sharp inhale echoed mere inches away—his body tensing as your scent deepened. Calling to him like a siren song he needed to answer.

"Stop that," he ground out, fingers curling into fists to keep himself apart from you.

Your eyes met his searing gaze even in the pitch black. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're not. But your body is." He huffed, feeling his willpower begin to splinter when your heart jumped. "How long do we have to...ya know..."

It took you a minute to realize that Logan was suddenly bashful. The urge to reach for a flashlight to see the red that most likely tinted the top of his ears reared its head. You would have done it if it weren't for the way his entire body flinched. His back now pushed against the wall furthest from you.

"Seven minutes," you murmured. "Are you okay?"

"'M fine."

You'd never seen him this on edge before. So close to snapping.

Perhaps it was the way he reacted whilst in your vicinity, or the fact that this was the most he'd said to you in twenty four hours. But the doubt you harbored for two weeks slowly began to shift into a wave of anger. One that demanded at least one final answer as to what you were doing here. What this meant to him.

You wouldn't continue pining after a man who couldn't give it to you straight; not after you gave him so much.

"At least now I can ask you what's going on."

He stiffened, his head snapping up to see your face begin to shift—your tone sharper than before. "What?"

"You heard me Howlett." His lips twitched at the sound of his last name. You fought the urge to land a punch to his jaw he'd barely. "Two weeks of no contact. You gave me nothing. And I was fine with it because I knew you were with Wade, but this? Avoiding me so you don't have to give me a reason as to why?"

"Honey–"

Your eyes narrowed, shutting him up quicker than he expected. "I'm not done talking." Another deep breath set off the last of your rant. "If you don't want to continue whatever this is then that's fine. I've moved on from guys like you before. I can do it again. But now you don't even want to be near me. I don't know what I did to make you–"

The step he took came unexpectedly. As did the next and the next until you were pinned to the wall behind you—his hands on either side of your head. Whatever fight you had left in your system fizzled out when his head dipped and lips slid down the side of your neck. Kissing gently at the vein he longed to sink his teeth into.

"Logan," you gasped, tilting your entire body his way. The reaction was involuntary. As if he possessed you in ways you never expected.

The smile he pressed to your cheek told you he liked it.

"That's what you think huh bub? That I don't wanna be near you?"

"Y-Yes..."

He chuckled. "I just spent two fuckin' weeks in a car with that walking mouth. You think I went of my own free will?" The breath that ghosted along your cheek caused your whole body to shiver. "'M stayin' away honey cause if I get too close I'm gonna do things to you that you aren't ready for."

A fire began to unfurl in the base of your stomach, rapidly coursing through your body without a single warning. He let it happen. He held you there, lips so close you could taste his whiskey on the tip of your tongue, and waited for you to speak. Waited for you to make your final choice about him.

"And if I am?" Your fingers curled into his shirt, chin lifting in a show of defiance. "Ready?"

He groaned at the sight of your fire coming back, his forehead falling to press against yours. "Don't say shit you don't mean."

"I do mean it."

Logan felt his entire body crumple as the familiar sound of his claws echoed in the small space—dust from the now split wall dropping onto your clothes. He could hear Wade's shout of disdain through the already thin walls. But his sole focus was on the way your breath quickened, how your fingers dug beneath his flannel and onto his thin beater.

"What do you want from me honey? Say it. I'll fuckin’ do anything."

The echo of your breathy whine fucked him up for good; ruined any chance of sanity for the rest of the night. If the closet wasn't so damn small he'd grind you along his thigh to watch your mouth go slack. He'd drop to his knees to taste you and drag you over the edge again and again without any intention of stopping.

"I want an apology," you replied, shaking him loose from the haze of lust he found himself stuck in.

His lips curled into a smile. "That right?"

You nodded, fighting against everything in you that screamed to keep this going. To let him kiss you senseless and fuck you against the wall. You didn't care that you were still in Wade's apartment, you didn't care that you were probably down to four minutes and a handful of seconds.

This felt pivotal to the shaky ground you both balanced on. And you were desperate to see what became of the mess that would no doubt come crashing down around you.

"You left." The words were a high gasp as his hand splayed against your stomach. "I-I missed you."

A rumble echoed from the bottom of his chest. "Yeah bub? Ya missed me?"

The words were on the back of your tongue, an explanation on just how much you ached for him. How nights without hearing his voice left you battling demons you usually kept at bay. But his hand was rucking up the bottom of your shirt and the heat of his calloused palm was against bare skin. Dipping lower as your mouth dropped open.

"You got no idea," he growled, lips so close to yours it caused your heart to scream. "How much I fuckin' thought of you. Of this." Fingers slipped beneath the top of your jeans and your head fell back against the wall. "Thought about how sweet you'd taste for me."

"L-Logan–"

He smiled. "Let me give you a proper fuckin' apology."

Echoes of laughter filtered through the already thin door as someone (most likely Wade) told yet another joke. At any other time you would dig up the last strand of your common sense and put an end to Logan's movements. Any other time you'd have enough coherency to understand that if you got caught neither of you would live this down.

Any other time that would have been the first thing on your mind.

But Logan's fingers brushed the edge of your navy blue laced underwear, effectively killing every thought in your head before it could fully form. Your hips canted up into his touch, fingers burying in his hair to tug his face closer. He felt too far even as he pressed you against the cold wall—his body emanating enough heat to have you gasping for air.

"I can smell it," he rasped. "Drivin' me insane honey."

A moan climbed up your throat, but he silenced you easily. His lips found yours in the darkness and you felt your heart cry at knowing he was back. That he wanted you.

You clung to him, tongue meeting his in a messy reunion. All teeth and quick stunted breaths and spit you felt cling to your joined lips. You swallowed his groan with a soft whine of your own. His hand dipped one inch further, fingers prodding against your patch of hair, and you felt your stomach clench.

"Oh–" Your gasp was sharp, loud enough for Logan to cringe as it echoed in the small space.

That didn't stop his fingers from sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. His lips a hot press against your cheek—body caging you into the drywall.

"Gotta be quiet," he whispered.

"S-Sorry–" You dug your teeth into your lip hard enough to taste copper. All in the hopes that it would silence every sound that was desperate to be set free. With the curl of his fingers he struck against your clit in rough strokes, dooming you to the shame that would no doubt come once the both of you stepped out of this closet. "Ah!"

His lips slammed against yours, tongue plunging into your already gaping mouth. He tasted like whiskey. Like everything you longed for in the past two weeks.

Your heart clenched in your chest as he upped the pace of his fingers—the wet echo of your slick now bouncing off the walls. A tremble began to form in your legs and you tugged on his hair to signal what was about to come. But Logan remained one step ahead of you.

He smiled, ignoring the aching throb of his cock as he coaxed you towards a quick and blinding release. One he would replay in his mind for the rest of the night. He knew Wade probably stood outside the door with his ear pressed to the wood, but found he didn't mind. Because you were in his arms, with your lips against his in a dazed kiss, and he had never felt such bliss before.

"C'mon honey. Lemme see you."

"'M almost there," you breathed, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

He wanted to eat you alive.

"I know you are. Can feel you leakin' on my hand." His teeth scraped against the shell of your ear, hips grinding along your thigh for some relief. "Let go so I can fuckin' taste you."

A blinding heat began to build faster than you had time to latch onto it; his fingers now tapping roughly against your pulsing clit. You reached for it, let that feeling begin to consume you. Only for something heavy to slam against the closet door—startling the both of you.

Logan ripped his hand away, his body stumbling to the opposite wall. He looked flushed. As if you were the one about to rip a mind numbing orgasm out of his body. Not the other way around.

You coughed, fixing your shirt and jeans as the door swung open. Wade's cocky smile told you everything you needed to know. Being subtle and playing this off was no longer an option, because he knew what you were up to. He could read it on your face.

"What ya thinkin' about?"

"Wilson–" Logan growled, moving to stand in front of you—his claws itching to slide free and dig into Wade's super-healing flesh.

"Wasn't talking to you peanut." He peeked over Logan's shoulder, his smile big and bright and glaringly obvious. "Don't tell me. You two were also debating the logistics of bringing back Robert Downey Jr. to the MCU."

"Shut your goddamn–"

"Because I think it's a money grab. I mean come on Iron Man? Again?"

Logan began to reach for his neck, but your hands pressing to his waist forced him to freeze. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder with a laugh as you squeezed past the both of them. He felt his heart twist in his chest tight enough to send pain down his spine.

Wade still smiled like an all knowing asshole, but the sight of you joining Vanessa on the couch with a sheepish smile eased the nerves that still jumped under his skin.

"Not another word," he spit, shoving a finger into Wade's chest to force him back a few feet.

The man merely smiled—eyes flicking down to the glaringly obvious bulge in Logan's jeans. "Don't tell me. Whiskey dick again? I've told you it's common–"

His claws came free with a roar. Wade's familiar shriek now echoing through the apartment as he sprinted towards your spot on the couch. In the hopes that you might be able to tame the animal intent on ripping him to shreds.

He could count on one hand how often silence echoed throughout the apartment at night. Each time being when Wade disappeared to Vanessa's place with the intent of returning well past the afternoon. Trash still lingered here and there after the small party, but he ignored it in favor of pouring another glass of whiskey.

Falling to the couch with a groan, he felt the weariness of two weeks with Wade on the road resurface in his body. Eventually he'd will himself to sleep. Still plagued by nightmare after nightmare. Except his mind was stuck on the thought of the closet. How you arched into his body with a whine, how wet you were for him in such a short span of time.

There was something addicting about seeing you confront him with your anger. All the fire you kept locked away suddenly became the sole focus of your energy and Logan found he couldn't get enough.

An hour after you were walked home by Vanessa (Wade in tow behind her), he still could smell you on his fingers. The way your scent clung to his shirt when you were up against him. How you moaned for him. So pretty and willing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sported a hardon for longer than an hour; yet in your presence they always seemed to fucking happen.

The whiskey kept his mind settled on the present moment. On Althea's snores in the background and the city noise that spilled in through the open window. If he was lucky, he'd get twenty minutes in a hot shower with his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

That alone kept him from passing out on the shitty couch—his mind hazy and drunk on lust.

A beep from his now charged phone drew his attention to your window across the street. The light was on. So he knew you were awake. But the sight of you walking out into your living room—a black robe wrapped around your body—had him sitting up straight. He reached for the device, flipping it open to see your name flash across the small screen.

Logan couldn't even remember pressing answer. All he knew was that your voice filled his ear seconds later.

"Hi," you said, tone breathy and high. Flashes of you from earlier began to enter his mind.

"Thought you went to sleep honey."

You smiled, pushing the window open—your phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder. "I tried."

"Nightmares?"

"No," you sighed. "Something else."

The feeling from earlier began to lick at his veins again, smoldering beneath the surface of his skin. "Yeah?" You nodded. "What is it?"

The sharp inhale of breath gave him a clear and straight answer. One that had him spreading his legs a bit wider on the couch—eyes fixed on the way you fidgeted with your hands. He wasn't able to get you off earlier; just barely on the precipice of an orgasm before you were rudely interrupted. And though you wouldn't say it out loud, he knew you still felt the remnant of an ongoing fire.

"Wade was kind of an asshole earlier about it," you mumbled.

Logan had never seen you this shy before. He wanted to sear the sight into his mind.

He chuckled, low and raspy; you felt it in your stomach. "He's usually that way."

"He got in the middle of us," you sighed.

"He did." Logan leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs, and watched as you stepped a bit closer to the window. "What about it honey?"

"Well–" Your fingers toyed with the tie of your robe, eyes glued to the way he got to his feet and moved towards the glass. "My door is unlocked."

The robe dropped to the ground with a soft flutter and Logan's mouth went dry. You stood bare before him, the phone clutched in your hand—determination on your face. He felt every part of his body scream at the sight of your skin—your breasts and cunt—presented to him this way. You were a marble statue straight out of a museum and he wasn't worthy of even getting a mere glimpse.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight of his claws coming free—a growl ripping through the phone line. He looked starving. Practically feral at the sight of you like this. You'd never wanted a man to devour you this way before; as if you were the meal to be served up on a silver platter.

Cold air seeped in through your open window, tightening your nipples, and Logan clutched the side of his window frame hard enough for the wood to crack. Your scent lingered in his nose—driving him past the brink of sanity.

"Don't fuckin' move," he snarled, slamming the phone shut in his large palm and heading straight for his door.

Counting the seconds, you remained stuck on the sight of his now empty apartment. People milled along the street down below—the late night goers that headed towards the subway entrance. You only hoped that no one bothered to look up. Or else they'd see you naked and standing before an open window.

Five minutes barely passed before your door was being shoved open, his boots a loud echo in the stark silence of your apartment. You turned—gasping at the sight of him disheveled and panting. His claws slid back as he shut the door with a soft thud that felt like a gun going off. Whatever words you wanted to say—explanations you longed to give for your behavior—died the second he walked towards you. Intent painted blatantly on his face.

Meeting him halfway, you collided against his body with a breathless kiss. Your fingers clung to his back as his hands gripped your bare thighs and hoisted you up. He stumbled forward, slamming you softly against the nearest wall, and took your mouth with a possession you'd never experienced before.

Logan kissed you with a heady fervor that left you dizzy. After so long, the aching need for you began to ebb into a madness that swallowed him whole.

One that demanded to be felt in its entirety.

"I'm sorry," he gasped against your lips, tongue licking along your teeth. "For leaving."

"Logan–"

He shook his head, gripping the back of your neck to draw you in for another kiss. "'M never leaving you again honey. Got that?"

With a nod, you pulled him back—tasting the remnants of whiskey and a cigar he must have smoked after you left. He growled into you, hips chasing your dripping cunt as it slid along the crotch of his jeans. Soaking him before he could even get a chance to taste.

There was no denying what this would lead towards. What those days of conversations and quick glances would amount to when the tension finally broke. Logan expected to be left with the fragments of a broken relationship that never was. You were adamant on making it become more.

"I want–" You pulled away with a sharp gasp, his lips slotting against your neck—working down the skin with gentle bites. "Want you inside me."

His forehead pressed to your shoulder, a groan ripping from his chest. "Fuck."

Your lips connected to his neck when he began to walk, teeth sinking into the veins that ran down into his shirt. Logan had to struggle to keep his feet straight—his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. He couldn't figure out how he managed to have such a stroke of luck. What occurred for him to have you in his arms, naked and wanton and grinding against his leaking cock that smeared inside his jeans.

A soft moan was pressed to his ear when he dragged your hips along his. The final steps into your bedroom now turning into a race to get you spread beneath him. To finally have you in ways that left him worried for his own psyche.

"Driving me fuckin' insane honey," he bit out against your ear, dropping you onto the soft mattress.

You smiled—eyes dark and shining with a cloud of lust. "So are you." Your fingers tugged at the bottom of his shirt. "I've been wanting you to touch me for weeks."

He wasn't going to fucking last.

Yanking off his shirt, he let both of them fall to your floor—giving you free reign to drink in the sight of him above you. The soft touch of your fingers trailed down his arms, tracing the veins in fascination. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each quick breath, and Logan felt the strings holding his self control in place snap.

He dipped down, sucking your peaked nipple into his mouth with a groan.

"F-Fuck," you sighed, nails digging into his shoulders so hard he felt his skin rip before it healed over. His cock jumped with the pain—hands fisting your soft comforter to keep himself stable.

"Do that again."

He caught a glimpse of your fucked out smile before your fingers were digging into his back, scratching lines across his skin. A loud moan slipped past his lips as he worked his way down your body. Lips trailing along your stomach—teeth sinking into your hips so hard it would hurt tomorrow. And you scratched line after line into his skin.

Adamant on leaving a mark that might stay till the morning.

"I didn't get to taste you," he murmured, hands moving to spread your soft and supple thighs.

"The closet was too small—oh–"

His nose pressed to your mound, inhaling the scent that drove him feral for weeks on end. Logan was fully aware how animalistic he turned the second his eyes landed on your glistening cunt. He wouldn't be surprised if drool began to slip from his mouth at such a pretty sight.

"Fuckin' gorgeous."

Hazel eyes darkened at the sight of you clenching around nothing—your hand delving into his already mussed hair. No response existed when he looked at you like this. When his thumbs spread you obscenely with a hoarse groan.

"Logan," you mewled.

Trying to form a coherent word flew out of your mind, his touch all you could focus on. A sharp cry fell past your lips when his mouth sealed over your cunt. Tongue flicking your clit and thumb sliding between your dripping folds.

Your legs were hitched to his shoulders, body bent upwards as he ate you like his last meal. His eyes fluttered shut with a moan and he sucked at your clit, rolling it along the tip of his tongue. Sounds you'd never heard before ripped from your chest, your fingers scrambling to grab onto his arms. To find an anchor in the dizzying pleasure he dragged you towards.

The simmering heat from hours before rose up in your body quicker than you expected. Reminding you that he'd already brought you to the edge once.

This time wouldn't take long at all.

He groaned, two fingers prodding at your entrance, and buried his tongue between your folds. The wet sound of his mouth sent a flare of need through your chest—drawing your lungs tight and near the precipice of pain. Breath became nonexistent as he lapped at you—his fingers sinking right down to the knuckle. You clawed at his skin, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Fuck–" Rough pads curled along your walls, striking against a spot you'd never reached on your own. It tore a cry from you, your legs now a trembling mess over his shoulders.

But he kept going. Ate you without stopping. As if breathing was secondary to the taste of you spread on his tongue.

"I-I'm gonna—fuck Logan!"

A growl was mumbled into your cunt, eyes now sharp and focused on your face as it screwed up in pleasure. The echo of your slick filled your ears, his fingers pumping into you and mouth drinking down everything you gave him. It all became too much. Until something bright and searing began to unfold in your body.

His teeth scraped your clit with another rumbled sound, and whatever remained to hold you together snapped. A sob of his name was yanked from your throat, fingers gripping at his hair to keep him still as you grinded against his tongue. And he collapsed onto the mattress, hips pushing into the bed while you used him.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes when the final dregs of your release began to seep from your body. Even while his tongue continued to lap at you—roughly moaning at the taste of you leaking into his eager mouth.

"Wait," you sucked in a breath, hand pressed to his head to keep him at bay when pain sparked through your body. "T-Too much."

His lips curled into a smile, canines on display and mouth shiny with your slick. "'M gonna do that again." Your eyes widened in protest, only for him to get to his feet. "But first honey. I'm gonna fuck you."

The flame sparked to life again, slowly simmering at the base of your stomach. You met him halfway, crawling to your knees to reach for his belt buckle. Lips sliding against his in a messy kiss as he shared your taste, licked it into your mouth with a sigh. It wasn't until your hand dipped into his jeans that he stopped you—his eyebrows pulled together and lips swollen.

"Hold on."

"What's wrong?" you murmured, kissing his chest and biting at the muscle.

"Not—ha—" His hand gripped your ass at the feeling of you tugging at his jeans; your fingers slipping down to cup him gently. "Not gonna last very long if you do that bub."

You grinned. "It's only fair. After you got to taste me...James."

"Shit." A hand on your throat dragged you back to his lips, to the hot slide of his tongue along yours. "Later. I'll let ya do whatever the fuck you want with me later."

Oh how you liked the sound of that. Images of getting him beneath you, of his head tipped back in pleasure, filled your mind. They begged you to make it reality.

Logan however had other plans.

"But I want to suck you off," you pouted.

He felt his cock leak down your hand, the pearly precum now spread along your thumb that rubbed at his vein. Weeks of starving for you left him an impatient man. Yet something told him you saw it clearly in the way his whole body tensed. His fingers digging sharply into any part of you he could reach.

Reaching for your leg he hooked it around his waist and knelt on the bed—his jeans and boots in a heap on the floor. Your lips never strayed far from his, fingers dancing along his bare back—feeling the muscles shift beneath hot skin. He wanted to lay you out beneath him, but the need for more began to eat at both your hearts.

This wasn't a quick and fast fuck. He wouldn't leave in the morning with no notice. No, Logan knew that when it came time for the sun to rise in the sky, he'd be back between your thighs with a sated smile on his face.

"Gimme a second honey," he panted, gently removing your hand from his cock. "Don't want to fuck this up."

You laughed, nuzzling his cheek as he dragged his head through your folds. "You won't baby."

The word slipped off your tongue with ease, but he felt like a shot had just gone through his chest. Somewhere between the two weeks spent apart and getting you like this—wrapped around him entirely at peace—Logan made a choice. He understood what this meant. He knew that you weren't temporary.

Perhaps it was stupid of him to dive in so quickly. Perhaps you’d regret this choice in a month or two. But he was tired of hiding from a past version of himself that continued to haunt his waking life.

He wasn't going to be the man who ran.

He would forever remain the man who stayed.

Your face contorted the second he began to slip into your dripping cunt—fingers sharply digging into his shoulders as he stretched you slowly. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip before your head fell back—a guttural moan pulling from your throat at the feel of him.

"Big," you rasped, hips canting down to help him.

White flashed behind his eyes when you clenched, a broken grunt pressed to your chest. "You can take it for me."

"I–" Another short thrust had him slipping into you with a sigh of your name. "O-Oh fuck."

He felt his claws bite at the skin of his knuckles, his teeth now a sharp prick at the top of your breast, as you settled into his lap. Sitting on his cock with a garbled shout of his name. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face back to his, and Logan could feel the pull of his orgasm draw tight in his body at the sight of you entirely fucked out.

"You with me?"

Lips curled into a soft smile, your eyes fluttering open. "Feels like you're in my chest," you mumbled.

Pride bloomed in his stomach, mixing with the heat that ate him alive. "Yeah?"

No answer was given because you'd decided it was time to move with a shift of your hips. He let you take the lead, giving what you could take and pulling back when your face screwed up in pain. He wasn't a small man—that he understood plainly. But the sight of you grinding along his lap, fucking yourself on his cock, had him nearly begging for more.

You gripped his shoulders, clambered to your knees, and sunk down on him again in one swift plunge. Logan choked on his spit the second you started to ride him in earnest. Sinking down on him in short repeated thrusts, you found his lips in a kiss that melted away into a mess of teeth.

"So fuckin' perfect." He gripped at your hips, pulling you down on his red and aching cock. "Takin' me like you were made for it honey."

A whimper met his ears at the slight shift in angle—the head of his cock now pounding against the spongy part of your walls. He grinned at the sound, helping you move just a bit quicker in order to chase the high that built rapidly in your body.

"You were made to fuckin' take it huh?"

You nodded, eyes bleary with tears. "Uh huh," you sighed.

"Made to fuck my cock," he growled. "To cum on it."

"L-Logan–" you whined, thighs shaking with the effort of riding him. He noticed seconds before you did.

"I know baby," he cooed, pushing you back onto the bed and sinking into you with a sharp thrust that sent his name careening from your mouth. "'S too much for you."

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he claimed your lips in a final kiss before setting a pace that had you clawing at his shoulders. It was almost punishing how good he fucked you. His hips pounded into yours, the repetitive slap of skin against skin now louder than your combined moans.

You felt the string begin to draw tight again, pulling at each muscle and tendon in your body. The walls of your cunt clamped down tight, drawing him in as your hands braced against his chest—your eyes rolling back at the feel of his body dragging against yours.

"There we go," he grunted, fingers sliding through your slickened mess to rub at your clit in small rough circles. "C'mon bub. Fuckin' cum on it yeah?"

"Ah!" Fighting for breath, you felt your entire body break as bliss flooded your system.

The scream of his name pierced his eardrums and Logan swore he felt his soul snap in half at the sight of you so lost in your pleasure. Chasing his own high, he bracketed his arms against your head, his claws now scratching at the wood of your headboard as he fucked into your pulsing cunt. The feel of your hand on his back, your lips against his jaw, sent him flying off behind you.

A rough snarl tore from his mouth as he came, burying himself deep enough to send pain down your thighs. The warmth of him spurting into you sent another flare of heat down your spine, sating whatever unconscious need you harbored to have him this way.

His head dropped to your chest, claws embedded in your now ruined pillow, as his cock began to soften. Your bodies reaching a level of comfort that hadn't been there before.

You ran a hand through his hair, toying with the locks as your eyes fell shut and legs moved to wrap around his hips. It shocked you how much you longed to remain like this. Pressed against his naked body with sleep lingering on the edges of your mind. You nearly asked if he felt the same, but the contented sigh that brushed against your breast gave you the answer you wanted.

"We're doing that again," he mumbled, kissing at your still hard nipple.

"Soon hopefully," you smiled.

"Mm." His cock stirred to life slowly, sending a wave of surprise down your spine. "Careful what you wish for bub."

"At least let me get some water," you mumbled, drawing his face back to yours—thumb running along his cheek. "Then you can–"

Your eyes flew open at the sound of something blasting from across the street. Logan turned with an irritated grunt as a song began to filter through your open living room window. One that you recognized instantly as WHAM!. Careless Whisper if you were shooting for accuracy.

Logan groaned, dropped his face to the crook of your neck. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

A shout bounced off the buildings, Wade's voice suddenly louder than the song. "That's what I'm talking about honey badger! Al give me back my fucking twenty!"

You laughed, trying to listen to what else he said, even as Logan began to kiss a trail down your shoulder. His mind focused on far more important things than his fucking roommate. The song continued to play, Wade singing along horribly, and you suddenly felt your future encompass you with a warm smile.

A life of joy, of passion, of family.

Sinking into his touch with a sigh, you let the worry fall from you in layers. The promise of this, no longer a fantasy.

note: they finally fucked y'all! if you finished all of this then i love you. drink some water per wade's words from earlier.

[respectthepetty]

The Heart Killers' Colors ? - Ep. 2

I only have two episodes to go off of, but I'm still trying to see the colors in The Heart Killers, and even though I'm confident that Fadel is a Black Brooder, the others are up in the air.

I still feel secure that Bison is a Red Rascal (warm), but I think he intentionally hid it this episode.

Bison was blue most of this episode around Kant.

And he just kept getting lighter.

But @visualtaehyun mentioned that when they first met, Kant stated that Bison needed to let him be in control, so I think Bison is faking a color and a personality because even though he wears blue, the red is still there, right at his core.

And once Kant participates in the dancing competition solely because Bison tells him to, the red is back.

In The Taming of the Shrew, Bianca (Bison's character) is not the titular "shrew" to be tamed; therefore, she is never tamed. In fact, Bianca becomes more assertive and manipulative throughout the story.

Because Lucentio is whipped.

So we know who is really in control and pulling the strings in every version of this story. It's the Red Rascal.

So now on to Kant, who is supposedly a (Dark) Blue Boy.

The blue would make sense because being whipped implies an extreme level of loyalty, but much like Bison, I think Kant is intentionally hiding it.

The entire plot is based on Kant trying to swindle his way to freedom via exposing Bison and Fadel with any means possible, so of course he wouldn't show his real color.

But, once again, IF Kant's real color is dark blue, it's interesting where and when his and Bison's color emerge.

Kant was dark blue in the first episode before he entered this deal for his freedom.

And he was feeling Bison's red.

So Kant, in his true color (IF it's his true color) likes Bison's assertiveness and aggressiveness.

Even if he doesn't realize it, the (dark) Blue Boy is following the Red Rascal's lead.

Which leads to Kant's wild friend who wears wild (printed) clothes.

Style is supposed to be a (light) Blue Boy.

Which means, just like Kant, he would be loyal and committed (to the bit).

But I initially thought Style was flesh/skin, which might seem odd since that's not a color, but I think it is very important.

The reason I'm confident Fadel is a Black Brooder is because he always wears black and he is hellbent on keeping his secrets, which the black color symbolizes.

So I don't think Director Jojo just wants to show Dunk's body (which I wouldn't fault him if he did because . . . well, Dunk's fine). I think Style, with his crop tops and eagerness to take off his clothes at any given moment, represents openness and vulnerability, which are two things Fadel struggles with.

And this is also why I think this is an intentional choice by Cinematographer Rath to light each scene as it was: the sauna is warm with Style baring himself for Fadel and exposing all his perfections (and flaws) transitions to the locker room being dark so Fadel can sneak up on Style and threaten him about his secret.

And it all ends with Fadel, in his darkness, turning to the warmth.

The light he faces has no shade. It is merely a fully exposed light bulb.

So Fadel, the "shrew" in this story, doesn't need to be tamed as much as he needs to be exposed, but not in a negative sense.

He needs to be allowed to be vulnerable. He needs to be able to lay himself bare. He needs to be free from his secrets.

But the problem is Fadel, just like his brother, would never willingly give up the control. But unlike Bison, Fadel's control is over himself, not others. Bison told Kant that where Bison is laid-back, Fadel is high-strung, so he would never allow himself to be vulnerable. He would never openly lay himself bare. Because unlike careless Bison, he would never expose himself. Much like when Style fixed Fadel's Jeep, Fadel was upset that Style fixed other issues. He didn't like Style looking where he wasn't supposed to. He didn't like Style changing things he wasn't aware needed to be changed. He didn't want Style looking deeper.

Which is why Style has to annoy him. Regardless of Style's color, he is a mechanic whose job is to look under the hood to see the problems and get dirty in the process, so he is the perfect man for this job. He would never know the real Fadel because Fadel would never allow that.

So Style has to get under Fadel's skin to see the real him.

[scribblue]

Like Father, Like Son [A Bitten!Lloyd Fic]

"He was trapped inside himself, forced to bear witness to the loss of his own identity."

Lloyd Garmadon's life, and the fate of Ninjago itself, is altered forever when he is bitten by the Great Devourer.

2,416 Words ☆ Angst, Canon Divergent AU, Lloyd Garmadon needs a hug ☆ Rated T, no major warnings

This is the first of several oneshots I have planned for this AU, detailing important milestones in Lloyd's post-bite life!! Read it below, or on AO3!

𓆩✧𓆪

In a single agonizing instant, Lloyd understood his father.

As the Great Devourer’s fangs pierced through his sleeve and infused its villainous venom into his veins, as he was shaken like a ragdoll and left to bleed on the desert floor, as the first wave of inner turmoil overtook him, he understood it all. Somewhere in his half-awake stupor and blackening heart he found it, a glimmer of empathy at the end of the tunnel. So, this was the reason for his father’s fall from grace. For his poor choices. For his lengthy absence. It was something Lloyd had long been aware of, at least as much as a young child could be, yet nothing could have prepared him for the reality of his experience. 

Pure, unfiltered hatred and vile thoughts clouded an already swirling mind. He felt his morals being corroded away as though he'd been injected with acid rather than venom, stripping him of all sense of self. It was a metamorphosis of the soul he was powerless to stop, and his body was the cocoon he couldn’t escape, forcing him to lay still in the sand no matter how hard he willed himself to move. He was trapped inside himself, forced to bear witness to the loss of his own identity. 

No. No, he had to fight. He had to. Lloyd couldn’t let the venom win. He was the green ninja. He had the choice to be good. He couldn’t let everyone down. He couldn’t let his father down. He had to do better.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear the cries of his friends, the crack of wood as the Great Devourer went back for seconds. The bounty would surely not survive another attack by the giant snake. Lloyd hoped…he hoped…

It was like grasping for a fleeting memory. He wasn’t sure what he hoped for, if anything; it felt so far away. His body was burning hot and wracked with chills at the same time. His vision blurred and darkened at the edges. Was the wetness on his face sweat or tears? 

Someone called out to him. He couldn’t tell who it was over rushing blood in his ears and the violent storm that raged inside him. When he tried to respond, all that came out was a mangled groan. A hand took him by the shoulder and gave him a shake, which he barely registered; in his loss of blood, consciousness, and identity, this body no longer felt like his own. And it put up no fight as his consciousness was finally claimed.

𓆩✧𓆪

You’re a monster now. 

“How is he doing?” 

Despite a soft tone, the broken silence was enough to startle Wu from his trance. He whipped his head up to face Nya, who had entered the room as quietly as she’d spoken and now met his gaze with a worried expression. Wu wordlessly beckoned her closer and she complied, joining him by Lloyd’s bedside. The young boy was swathed under heavy blankets to sweat out a fever, though an elevated temperature was the least of his problems. He tossed and turned fitfully with eyes squeezed tightly shut, muttering gibberish.

“He is as stable as possible,” Wu said. “I wish we could offer more comfort but…I’m afraid we’ve done all we can do.”

Your friends will never trust you again. Your father will be so disappointed. 

“No, no…” Lloyd whined under his breath.

“You can’t wake him up?” Nya said, worrying the hem of her top with anxious fingers. “It’s been a whole day now.”

Wu let out a resigned sigh. “Lloyd is fighting against the venom as my brother did many, many years ago… this is just the beginning of a lifelong battle. If we do not allow him to emerge victorious from today’s struggle, he may never have the strength to fight it at all.” The words were true, despite Wu’s desperate wishes for the contrary. Seeing Lloyd in such a condition brought a wave of traumatic memories to the surface, and threw salt in wounds that never had a chance to properly heal. Wu couldn’t help but blame himself for Lloyd’s condition, as he had for Garmadon’s. If only he had been there.

You cannot fight the darkness in your soul. You must surrender to it. This is who you were always meant to be. 

Nya pulled up a stool next to Wu and settled into it, keeping her gaze trained on Lloyd. “There has to be something we can do.”

“I wish it as much as you do. But I— we were too late.” Wu cleared his throat to banish a slight tremble. “The venom cannot be removed now. He must learn to coexist with it.”

The world will pay for letting you down, and you will be the means for their demise. Pave the path for your future with their early graves. 

Lloyd yelped and began to toss more violently, tangling the blankets with his thrashing limbs. Wu rose to his feet and stepped forward to gently tug the coverings free of his flailing body, then fetched a washcloth from a dish of cold water at his bedside. He wrung out the excess and placed the cool material across Lloyd’s forehead. The relief was immediately apparent. The boy ceased his thrashing and settled into a state of relative calm, and Wu let out a sigh of his own moderate relief, settling back in his seat.

“What does it mean for the prophecy? Is he still the Green Ninja?” Nya asked with marked hesitancy.

That same question had weighed heavily on Wu’s mind in the past hours, and unfortunately, no amount of meditating brought him closer to an answer. “That will be revealed in time. I’m afraid the fate of Ninjago is uncertain, even to me… that said, one thing is clear: we must focus our efforts on Lloyd’s training tenfold. He will need extra guidance to not only hone his elemental powers, but to hone the darkness inside. We must help him find the light.”

Fighting back merely delays the inevitable. Give in. Give up. Accept your fate.

“No!” Lloyd yelled. He lurched upright with swinging arms, an outburst that elicited a jolt from the pair sitting beside him. He maintained the offensive stance for a moment, panting and surveying his surroundings with wide, fearful eyes. 

"Easy, Lloyd," Wu said gently. "You're safe now."

"Yeah, it's alright Lloyd– it's just us," Nya chimed in with a small, somewhat unconvincing smile.

Lloyd looked over at them, expression softening and fists lowering as recognition kicked in. “What…what happened? Where am I?”

Wu rose from his seat and approached Lloyd with a tentative gait. He studied him closely, as though a thorough enough examination would reveal the depths of the venom's effect. “You are in Ninjago City. Tell me, how do you feel? What do you remember?”

“I feel… awful.” He peeled the towel off of his forehead and Nya reached forward to take it from him, dipping it back in the water dish. “I had a horrible nightmare where I was bit by…the…” His eyes widened in a state of sickening realization, which he aimed at his bitten arm; bandaged tightly below the elbow and surely still sore. Faded patches of blood and venom stained the inner layers of cloth. “…I was bit by the Great Devourer.”

So, he was aware. At least that was one less bandaid for Wu to rip off, for lack of a less ironic metaphor. “Yes, I’m afraid your nightmare is reality,” he said. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. The Great Devourer’s venom now courses through your veins as well.”

Nya offered Lloyd the compress, which he stared at blankly before rejecting with a slight shake of his head. She set it aside. “I’m sorry too. We all are. I can’t even imagine how hard it is for you right now. Don't worry though, okay? We’re gonna get through this together. All of us.”

Lloyd averted his gaze to some far off corner of the second-rate apartment building they were holed up in, though his vacant stare was clearly not one of judgment for their living situation. There was anguish behind those eyes, anguish that Wu was most familiar with. That he dreaded the sight of. “Where’s my father?”

Wu and Nya shared a knowing glance, and Nya took it as her queue to exit. “I, uh…think I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said, sparing Lloyd another sympathetic smile and slipping out of the room. 

With Nya gone, Lloyd’s full attention snapped to Wu. “Where is my father?” he repeated with increased insistence.

Wu stroked his beard as he gathered the words to explain. His conflicting feelings about his brother's conflicting actions made it a particularly difficult task, especially with Lloyd’s intense scrutiny. Not that delaying the news made it any more bearable. “...When your father heard of the bite, and your compromised condition, he took the golden weapons and used them to defeat the Great Devourer in your name. His act of bravery saved us all. However... once the dust had settled, he was nowhere to be found. Along with the golden weapons.”

Lloyd’s face fell. In the silent room, one could hear his heart shatter from within. "He...left?” 

Wu didn’t respond. The answer was already evident and hung heavily in the air between them. Garmadon’s decision was not one Wu agreed with, but he wagered that speaking ill of him would not offer any solace; instead, he reached up under his hat and procured a scrap of paper curled into a roll. “I found this at the scene of the Great Devourer's demise. I think you need to read it.” 

Lloyd accepted the paper gingerly and unfurled it with equal caution. His eyes flitted across the messily scrawled ink. 

To my brother,

Take care of Lloyd for me. He will need someone to guide him through this, and, despite our quarrels, I can think of no one better suited than you. My own venom has run too deep, and I fear my presence would influence him in the wrong direction. I cannot allow that to happen. Please continue his teachings in my absence.

To my son,

I love you. I hope you will understand my decision one day, and possibly even forgive me, though it is certainly not owed. I am so sorry, Lloyd. I never wanted this for you. I know how terrifying and isolating it all is. No matter what happens, never lose sight of who you are at your core: a strong, adventurous young man with a heart of gold. Do not let the venom take that away from you. 

You must maintain balance within yourself, rely on your companion's wisdom when yours fails, and keep moving forward even when the road gets difficult. One way or another, I will be there by the end of it. And I will be so proud of you.

It's not your fault, Lloyd. 

Your father always,

Garmadon

Wu had reread the message enough times to nearly memorize it himself, so when Lloyd’s eyes began to well up with tears, it came as no surprise. He was taken aback, however, by the sudden shout of frustration as Lloyd balled the paper in his fist and threw it across the room. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!!” he cried, green eyes blazing red like a forest overtaken by flame. “How could he do this to me? How could he leave me again when he knows how much I need him? Doesn't he know how much I need him?!” 

Wu stumbled backwards and instinctively reached for his staff, realizing the mistake too late as Lloyd’s furious expression landed on him and twisted in betrayal. The fire behind his eyes extinguished, leaving a wounded child in its embers. “...You think I’m a monster like him.” His once furious tone was now trembling and dejected.

The staff fell to the floor with a hollow clatter. “Lloyd, no, it’s not like that. I was simply startled. Neither of you are monsters, this venom, it— it isn’t you. I would never– er, I know you would never...” Wu heaved a sigh. His tangled tongue was doing him no service. "I'm sorry, nephew."

Lloyd held his gaze for a beat before dropping his attention to his wounded arm, curling and uncurling his fingers wordlessly. He didn’t appear convinced, and Wu didn't blame him. Further placations surely couldn't ease such a troubled mind, so the pair remained in uneasy silence, accompanied only by a ticking clock on the wall and blooming dread inside Wu’s chest. He willed himself to fight it, just as Lloyd was fighting his own darkness. Strength was a skill he must model.

Wu turned to survey the room, eyes landing on the crumpled page. He plucked it from the floor and began carefully smoothing it out to the best of his ability. The words were still legible, if a bit creased and stained with teardrops. For this, Wu was grateful. They were important words, ones Wu hoped would one day soothe Lloyd's heart rather than break it. He rolled it back into a makeshift scroll and set it on Lloyd’s nightstand. 

“I’ll still have to fight him…won’t I?”

It was nearly whispered, as though the reality behind the statement was too heavy to bear fully. Wu considered Lloyd thoughtfully, taking note of his puffy, tear-stained face with a frown. “Hm…perhaps,” he admitted. “Although, that is a battle for another day, and one we have ample time to prepare you for. Tonight, allow yourself to rest, Lloyd. Your body and mind are still healing and need time to recover."

Lloyd sniffed and wiped his face into his sleeve. "Okay," he said, and Wu had never heard him sound so defeated. He eased back into bed and closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh.

Wu lingered in the doorway for just a moment longer before turning off the light and slipping out to update the others on Lloyd’s condition. He wished he bore more hopeful news. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, to himself or the ninja, their situation had become far more dire. At this time, he could only pray external guidance would be enough to tip the scales of balance back to a steady equilibrium, lest all of Ninjago pay for Wu’s neglect.

Lest the vicious cycle continue.

[liliapleasesteponme]

The tower reversed

Lilia calderu x fem!reader (can be read as romantic or platonic)

Summary - you go looking for reassurance and stumble upon madame calderu's psychic readings

Warnings - angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, family problems (i think thats all)

Requested by anon (i actually had this idea for lilia giving reader a tarot reading a while ago but now someone requested it as angst soooo)

There was so much going on in your life. You needed reassurance, something to tell you that you're on the right path. You'd been walking for ages, nowhere specific, just around town. You'd hoped to find a sign of some sort that would tell you that things will get better.

You finally decided to go home but just as you turned around a shop caught your eye, the sign read Madame Calderu's Psychic Readings

Maybe a tarot reading was exactly what you needed. You crossed the road, making your way to the shop. You stared at the door for a moment contemplating whether to go in or not. You did.

The little bell above the door rang as you entered, you quietly called out "madame Calderu ?"

She flamboyantly made her entrance, saying a clearly rehearsed line followed by, "what can i do for you, dear ?"

"could i have a success reading please ?"

"of course, dear, sit." she motioned her hand towards a chair and you anxiously sat. "i can tell you're very tense."

You nod your head slightly "let's begin."

She took out her tarot deck and layed it on the table. Then she spread all the cards out, her fingers laying beautifully against each card. "choose any six cards. Whichever cards call out to you."

You carefully picked out your cards, though none of them called out to you as she had suggested. She took your cards and arranged them into a triangle. She first turned over the top card. "this card represents you. Queen of Pentacles, reversed. The queen often struggles to maintain balance between family and work, she is too often captured by her need of independence. You will face difficult choices, these choices may shape your future, be prepared to fight for what you need moving forward."

The moment she mentioned your family, you teared up. Your relationship with them was rocky to say the least and you had buried yourself in your work as a distraction. She was good. She noticed how your eyes watered over and she grabbed your hand in consolation. Her thumb rubbed comforting circles on your hand, usually you would ask not to be touched but she made you feel warm so you allowed it. "shall we continue ?" she asked.

You gave a low hum and she continued. she moved to the next card, turning it over. "this next card represents the people in your life. Justice, reversed. Justice reversed often allows bias to cloud her judgement, making it hard to understand those around her. Make sure you look at all the facts available before you make a clear decision on anything important."

You nodded again and she moved on, you didn't address that card. "the third card. How you are viewed by those around you. The tower, reversed. The tower is a portent of destruction, ignoring its message is unwise. Make sure to listen to the signs. You may be trying to delay the inevitable, the tower has to crumble one day."

Listen to the signs you mumbled to yourself before asking "signs ? What signs do i look for ?"

She looked deeply into your eyes, "i can't tell everything, dear."

This time the tears fell ... Alot. Though she barely knew you, hearing you sobbing broke her heart. She stood up and walked over to you, pulling you into her warm embrace. For a moment you wanted to run away but feeling her arms around you made you feel like there was something to stay for.

You let your head fall to her shoulder, hugging her back. "I'm sorry dear, sometimes the cards aren't as kind as we may hope"

You pulled back to look into her eyes and she held your head in her hands. You nod your head so softly it could barely be seen. A small smile made its way to your face, it was only small but it made the air around the two of you feel much lighter. "i dont think we should continue," she said with a delicate worry, "and i dont want you walking alone in this state. Stay for the night, I'll make you some food and you can rest, i can tell you need it."

You were hesitant to accept her offer but she was right, you weren't in the right headspace to leave after this, so you said yes. She lead you to the room in the back of her shop, it was a cozy space, just being in there made you calmer.

She fulfilled her earlier promise and made you some food, it was nothing special but you were thankful for what she was doing for you, considering you just met. It felt like she knew you some how.

Your earlier nerves were eased and you were feeling much better. After she washed up, she sat with you and the two of you talked for hours. By the end of the night, it was like you knew everything about each other. You slept the night there and surprisingly it was one of the best sleeps you'd had in a long time.

In the morning, you exchanged numbers and went on your way, eager to text her later.

A/N sorry its kinda short, i lost inspo half way but wanted to post it today so yeah