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hoshifighting · 4 months

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Ways to Have a Man in the Palm of Your Hand.

Synopsis: In the flow of uncertainty that defined your situationship with Mingyu, you decide to take action, making Mingyu start chasing after you like a loyal puppy.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, begging on knees, oral (f. receiving), fingering– he watches reader fingering herself, handjob, dick riding, penetrative sex, humiliating, manipulation and etc.

Your life connected with Mingyu's since you both first met through your groups of friends, and a situationship had emerged between you two. It was just sex, with no strings attached and no promises made.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, it became challenging to keep your heart safe from the unpredictable tides of emotion.

Mingyu had a way of making you feel special. He'd surprise you with homemade dinners, he was attentive, considerate, and made sure to put your self-esteem on the highest with his skillful photography.

The tall and good-looking guy wasn't just amazing during sex; he was an enigma that both fascinated and frustrated you. Mingyu could vanish for days, leaving you on blue. But just as you were about to write him off, he'd resurface, as if nothing had happened. It was a maddening cycle, and yet, you found yourself caught in its web.

Mingyu: Hey! Been swamped asf with work lately. Let's grab coffee or something stronger soon? Let me know when you're free!

You couldn't help but scoff as you read Mingyu's message. His casual tone and nonchalant invitation stirred a mix of irritation and amusement within you. Swiftly typing a response, you questioned his unpredictable appearances.

You: Are you planning on always popping up out of nowhere like this?

Mingyu: I always come back, don't I? So, when are we catching up darling?

Despite the inner conflict and your ego's warning signals, there was an undeniable allure to Mingyu's charm. His words, laced with playfulness, had a magnetic effect that bypassed rational thoughts. With a sigh, you found yourself succumbing to the familiar pull.

The room was filled with the echoes of skin slapping as you both lay on Mingyu's bed, your eyes locked as you two moaned out loud, the crescendo of pleasure punctuated by the rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall.

Mingyu lays beside you, the heat of the moment still lingering between your bodies. You rose from the tangled sheets, picking up your scattered clothes. Mingyu's gaze remained fixed on you, an intensity that betrayed a deeper connection than the situationship allowed.

"I really like spending time with you Y/N"

"Me too Gyu."

[...]

Seungkwan leaned in "Okay, spill. What's the latest drama with Mingyu?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Honestly, I can't figure him out. It's like a cycle. We talk every day for a month, hang out, fuck, and then poof! He disappears for a week or more. I don't get it."

Seungkwan chuckled knowingly. "You know, maybe you should try something. Do the same to him, but take it up a notch. Make him miss you even more."

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly taken aback. "Seungkwan, I'm not into playing games or being spiteful. It's not my style."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, hear me out. It's not about being spiteful. It's about making him realize what he's missing. Mingyu knows you'll always be there, right? So, he takes it for granted. Maybe he needs a taste of his own medicine."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "And how exactly do I do that?"

Your mouth hung open as Seungkwan delivered his comprehensive lesson in the art of emotional tactics. The confidence in his advice left you both amazed and slightly apprehensive. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you finally asked the burning question.

"How on earth do you know all of this, Seungkwan?" you inquired, eyes wide with disbelief.

Seungkwan leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, my dear friend, when you've been in the game as long as I have and witnessed enough romantic dramas unfold, you start picking up on patterns. It's like a survival guide for the heart."

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the information. "Survival guide, huh? And all this contempt, playing hard to get, and hurting egos – that's your secret weapon?"

Seungkwan chuckled, "Not a secret weapon, sometimes, a little strategic move can make all the difference. Trust me, I've seen it all."

With Seungkwan's advice resonating in your mind like a strategic playbook, you approached the next phase of your relationship with Mingyu, with a newfound determination. It felt like diving into a complex homework assignment, each step carefully calculated to shift the dynamics in your favor.

As you decided to implement the first step, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. You stopped responding to Mingyu's messages immediately and resisted the urge to initiate contact. It felt strange at first, but there was a sense of power in reclaiming your time and not being at his beck and call. Mingyu's messages awaited your attention.

The challenge of making Mingyu realize he could lose you sparked a newfound determination. Your calendar filled up with plans that didn't involve Mingyu. Mingyu, accustomed to your constant availability, seemed to sense the change, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. He might have been the object of desire for many hoes, but your indifference challenged his accustomed narrative.

After all, a man is not more important than your personal goals, right?

All while allowing Mingyu to observe your life unfolding without him. The realization that you were not waiting by the phone for him sparked a large curiosity.

Throughout the process, a mix of emotions surfaced. Doubt, at times, whispered in the back of your mind – was this the right approach? Seungkwan's advice, unconventional as it was, had brought a shift in Mingyu's behavior. Now, you wondered how Mingyu would respond to the transformed version of you – a person who refused to be taken for granted.

Mingyu's relentless messages flooded your phone. The janitor, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, discreetly shared the news of Mingyu's visits to your condominium entrance. Three times he had appeared, seeking a glimpse of you, only to be met with the absence of your presence, the deliberate distance, and the air of indifference were beginning to provoke a reaction from him.

You were determined to see this journey through, to understand whether Mingyu's renewed interest was genuine or a fleeting reaction to the perceived loss of control.

The persistent pings of Mingyu's messages had become a constant background noise in your life, infiltrating your workdays and even interrupting the serene moments of your brunches.

"Free today, Ms. Busy?"

"Pls respond to me. :(("

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Wtf…"

"Omggg, when are you going to answer me properly?"

"I'll invade your house."

"Y/N-ieeee, pleaseee!"

"I really want to see you right now."

"You make me so confused :("

The encounter at the pedestrian crossing unfolded in a scene of unexpected tension. Mingyu, spotting you in the midst of your Sunday morning run with Seungkwan, seized the opportunity to bridge the gap that had grown between you. As you halted, waiting for the light to change, Mingyu approached, a mixture of eagerness and confusion etched across his face.

"Hey there! Fancy meeting you here," Mingyu greeted, attempting to strike up a conversation.

Seungkwan, standing beside you, looked on with a side-eyed glance, a smirk playing on his lips as he sipped casually from his water bottle. As the pedestrian light shifted to green, you seized the moment to extricate yourself from the short encounter. "Sorry, Mingyu, I really need to finish my morning walk. Catch you later," you excused yourself, leaving Mingyu standing there, perplexed and surrounded by the bustling activity of the street.

He couldn't shake off the confusion – Why weren't you responding as before? Why weren't you as available as you used to be? Did you at least still like him? It dawned on Mingyu that the game had changed, and he wasn't sure if he understood the rules anymore. The pursuit, once fueled by the expectation of your constant availability, now seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. The reality of being just one among the many who sought your attention was a bitter pill to swallow.

[...]

The doorbell's unexpected chime disrupted the tranquility of your self-care routine, with moisturized skin and a mind ready for a cozy movie night, you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

As you swung the door open, the sulky face of Mingyu greeted you. A momentary pause hung in the air, your eyes meeting his in silent expectation. Before you could utter a word, Mingyu stepped inside, dropping to his knees and hugging your legs as if seeking solace.

Surprised by his sudden display of vulnerability, you widen your eyes, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. The door lingered ajar, and you managed to close it, arms crossed, a mixture of confusion and caution etched on your face.

Mingyu, still hugging your legs, looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice laden with remorse. "What did I do, Y/N? Why are you treating me like this? I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a mix of confusion and regret. "I just… I don' understand. I miss you," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

Your initial surprise transformed into a mix of emotions – disbelief, a hint of empathy, and the need to assert your newfound boundaries. Crossed arms and a measured gaze met Mingyu's desperate expression. The sudden intrusion into your personal space prompted a silent assessment of the situation.

"What did you expect, Mingyu?" you countered, your voice steady but laced with the weight of unspoken questions. "You disappear, then reappear, and now you're kneeling in my living room. What's going on?"

"I messed up, okay? I thought I could keep things casual, but I didn't expect to feel like this. I miss the way things used to be between us." he confessed, his voice carrying a raw honesty.

"You ask me to come to your house, and then after you get what you wanted, you let me go. Do I look like a food delivery or something?" you confronted Mingyu, your words cutting through the charged silence that hung in the room.

Mingyu's eyes widened at your accusation, shock and a hint of hurt registering on his face. "No, no, no, Y/N, it wasn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and frustration evident in your expression. "It feels like you only want me around when it's convenient for you."

Mingyu, still on his knees, looked up at you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not like that. I just... I didn't want to push you. I thought you preferred it this way."

You sighed, the weight of the unresolved tension palpable. "Mingyu, I can't read your mind. If you want me to stay, you have to say it. Communication goes both ways."

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry. I'll do whatever you want. I didn't see you as just a fleeting thing, and I want to be present."

Mingyu's earnest apology hung in the air, a plea for understanding and a promise to change. As he laid his face on your bare thighs, expressing his sincere regret, you cut through the moment with a tsk sound, a dismissive gesture that left him wide-eyed and caught off guard.

"Poor boy, begging on his knees for attention. What a shame," you remarked, a hint of teasing in your voice as you observed his reaction.

Mingyu, his hands now gripping each side of your thighs, sat back on his feet, his expression a mix of surprise and a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He hadn't anticipated this response, your playful teasing catching him off guard.

"You didn't see me as a fleeting thing?" you continued, your tone mockingly contemplative. "Well, Mingyu, this is quite a sight – you, on your knees, practically begging for my attention. I'd never do something like this."

His widened eyes met yours, uncertainty and a trace of embarrassment flickering in them. Mingyu's bit his lip, cheeks flushing deeper.

"I'll do whatever you want, Y/N. Just tell me," Mingyu replied, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you continued your teasing. "Oh, Mingyu-ah, the mighty one on his knees. Maybe you'll learn to appreciate what you have when it's not handed to you on a silver platter. Now, let's see if you can keep up with your promises."

As you spoke, Mingyu's cheeks continued to flush, a complex dance of emotions playing out on his face. "How can you forgive me?"

Mingyu's question hung in the air, a genuine plea for forgiveness. You paused, considering the weight of his words, before adopting a more serious tone.

"Get up," you instructed him, your voice carrying a command that seemed to catch him off guard.

Mingyu, without hesitation, rose to his feet from his submissive position. His eyes fixed on you. An arched eyebrow and a smirk played on your face, savoring the moment of dominance as you instructed him to follow you.

The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation as Mingyu attentively trailed behind you, his eyes inevitably drawn to your body covered only by a shirt. The click of your bedroom door signaled a shift in the dynamics, and when you turned to face him, his eagerness manifested in an attempted kiss.

Your finger halted his advance, a calculated pause preceding your question, "Do you think you deserve to kiss me?"

Mingyu, his eyes reflecting a mix of longing and remorse, shook his head no. Your smirk deepened as you delivered a verdict that left him whimpering.

"Then you won't kiss me today."

A whimper escaped Mingyu's lips, a sound that echoed the frustration and desire that simmered beneath the surface. The unexpected turn of events had left him yearning for a connection, yet you, in your assertive control, denied him that solace.

As the tension hung in the air, Mingyu's eyes glistened with unshed tears. The dynamics between you had taken a surprising turn, a power play that left both of you navigating the intricate threads of desire, forgiveness, and the consequences of a maybe – ex-complicated situationship.

With a commanding tone, you instructed Mingyu to kneel once again, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. He obeyed, sinking down to his knees with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. The air in the room crackled with a palpable tension as you laid down the terms.

"If you act like a good boy, maybe I'll forgive you," you declared, your voice carrying a hint of authority.

Mingyu nodded earnestly, a silent pledge to abide by your terms. As you proceeded to remove your shirt, next your pantie, allowing it to fall to the floor, the atmosphere became charged with a new layer of intensity.

"How much do you want this pussy Mingyu?" you inquired, the question hanging in the air as you observed Mingyu's reaction. His shoulders slumped, a subtle expression of desire and longing evident on his face.

"A lot," he moaned, the words escaping his lips with a mixture of need and surrender. Your legs spread open, an invitation too tempting, as he feels his mouth waters at the view.

"Open your mouth," you commanded Mingyu, your voice carrying an air of authority. He complied without hesitation, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

As he held his mouth open, you slid two fingers inside, the intimate contact a subtle exploration of boundaries and desire. Mingyu's tongue teased your fingers, a provocative dance that elicited a hiss from you.

"No teasing," you admonished, a note of warning in your voice. With a swift motion, you delivered a little slap to his chin as you withdrew your fingers from his mouth. The air crackled with a newfound tension, a moment that blurred the lines between control and submission.

Mingyu furrowed his eyebrows, as he watched your fingers slowly disappearing inside of your cunt, your fingers and your slick gushes out of you, and all he can do is watch. He sits patiently on his feet, watching your fingers leaving and entering your pussy in a too provocative rhythm. His bottom lip quivering to the desire of eating you out.

"Please Y/N…"

"What?''

"Please, let me eat you out, it looks so good…"

To tease him even more, you fastened your fingers, moaning while your cunt sounded like Mingyu's favorite song, wet, luscious, mouthwatering, appetizing, tempting. He cries out, his hands together on his lap. "Please, I beg you, I missed you so bad."

The room was charged with a blend of anticipation and surrender as you stopped, taking a moment to look at Mingyu's mournful face. The desire in his eyes was palpable, and the silent plea for what he had begged for lingered in the air.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to fulfill his request. Mingyu, starved and eager, approached the task with a concentration that hinted at a deep desire to please you. As he held you with a gentle yet fervent touch, mouthing your pussy, licking you clean, his focus on your pleasure was unwavering. The way he clung to you conveyed a fear of losing you, made you mewl as he sucked your clit, you held onto the sheets, a silent anchor in the sea of sensations. Mingyu's devotion and the way he concentrated on your pleasure only intensified the building release within you. Like a wave, you're cumming all over his mouth and chin, he hums in response flickering your clit with his tongue.

"Enough." You breathe out, closing your legs. "Strip, and lay for me."

Mingyu rose from the floor, a determined look on his face, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort his knees might be feeling. The sounds of his clothing being discarded echoed in the room, punctuated by the soft thud as he settled onto the bed. The mattress shifted as he moved closer, his warm touch caressing your arm.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a hint of curiosity and desire lingering in the air.

"Don't touch me," you instructed Mingyu, your tone carrying a note of command as you climbed onto his lap. Leaving him momentarily frozen, his hands hovering in the air, uncertain of where to go.

The close proximity of his cock intensified the wetness between your thighs. Mingyu, eager and responsive, looked at you with a mix of desire and restraint, his hands now cautiously placed together on his chest.

The atmosphere crackled with a blend of dominance and submission as you straddled Mingyu, humping your wet pussy against his cock, your movements deliberate and provocative. His moans in response to your degrading words only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"Oh my god, look at you," you cooed, your voice a mix of mockery and desire. "I just stopped paying attention to you, and you came fucking begging me to talk with you. You're humiliating, Mingyu."

His moans, a symphony of pleasure and submission, filled the room. Mingyu's response to your degrading words conveyed a complex dance of desire and self-awareness. The acknowledgment that he deserved the degradation.

The room filled with a momentary hush as you sank your hips, Mingyu's length now fully inside. He shut his eyes, a silent surrender to the sensations that enveloped him.

The unspoken admission hung in the air—though you wouldn't openly admit it, there was a trace of longing, a subtle acknowledgment that, despite the complexities, you had missed him a little. The air became charged with a mix of desire and restraint as your hips rode him, his length fully fulfilling the connection between you.

His angry tip brushed against that special spot, sending a surge of pleasure through both of you, cause now, you were so tight around him. "I'm going to cum, f-fuck"

"You better not."

The charged atmosphere intensified as you edged Mingyu, denying him release, while simultaneously relishing in the control you held over his pleasure. He gasped for air, his eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to hold back as your dominating presence and the sensations of your movements threatened to overwhelm him.

Your hips moved with a purposeful intensity, driving him to the edge, and his body contorted in a desperate attempt to maintain control. The struggle was evident in the way his breath hitched and his eyes rolled back, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure that surged through him.

"I-I can't hold it anymore," he stuttered, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

"If you cum, I will-"

The moment of release was inevitable. Mingyu's hot cum filled you, triggering your own orgasm, he cried out your name, making your wall clench harder around him.

As Mingyu managed a string of apologies, you allowed him to slide out of you, leaving his lap coated with both of your arousal, your legs damp with his seed.

The scoff echoed in the room, a mix of amusement and assertion. However, your actions spoke a different language. As you tighten your legs around the sides of Mingyu's legs, restraining his movement, your hands take control, pumping his cock fast. The focus on his red tip elicited a loud cry from Mingyu, his back lifting off the mattress in response to the overstimulation.

The wet sounds filled the bedroom as the intensity of your touch drove him to the edge. Mingyu's hands gripped the pillow beneath his head, a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the whirlwind of sensations that consumed him.

As Mingyu's body trembled under the heightened sensations, he felt a knot tightening in his abdomen, a sensation he hadn't anticipated. The overwhelming intensity built up to a point where he couldn't contain it anymore. A primal scream tore from his lips, his body convulsing in the throes of another orgasm.

His cum pooled on his abdomen, a physical manifestation of the powerful release that coursed through him. You observed his trembling body, struck by the raw intensity of his response. Mingyu's reaction seemed to surpass any previous experiences, his vulnerability and ecstasy on display in a way you hadn't witnessed before.

"Sorry, I came without your permission…"

"Enough with the sorry's, Mingyu," you said with a soft smile. "Let's just take a bath."

As the warm water cascaded around you, cleansing away the external worries, you both found solace in the simplicity of the moment. Emerging from the bath, you lay on the bed alone, the silence speaking volumes. Mingyu, holding his shirt, stood in contemplation. His gaze met yours, and he released a breath he seemed to have been holding.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions when Mingyu finally gathered the courage to ask, "Can we sleep together tonight? Can I stay here with you?"

His eyes held a lot of shyness, and for a moment, you felt a genuine change in the air. You bit your lip, a subtle smile playing on your lips. In response, you patted the bed twice, a silent invitation for him to join you.

Mingyu threw his shirt away with a smile, a blend of shyness and excitement. He settled on the bed, maintaining a cautious distance, uncertain about what the night held. Your gaze met his, and you turned to face him. His eyes sparkled, and with a newfound boldness, he closed the gap and hugged you tightly.

"Don't be away from me again," he whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. And for the first time in those weeks, you let yourself savor the sweet taste of his pink soft lips, making him melt in response.

You smiled, your palms sliding gently along his back. The walls that once stood between you seemed to crumble as Mingyu embraced you, his actions speaking louder than any words. In that moment, it felt like a page turned, and a new chapter began.

Well, Seungkwan, you knew a lot. The five ways to have a man in the palm of your hand indeed.

2K notes · View notes

holybibly · 4 months

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♡ℌ𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔤𝔦𝔯𝔩 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡♡

Genre: smut, cam boy!Au

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: StrawberryBoy_Hwa sent you a private message:

Congratulations you Shy_Kitty21 you have won a private video call with me.

Or where the universe crashes and you masturbate under the careful guidance of an adoring cam model Park Seonghwa.

WARNING: Cam Boy!Seonghwa masturbation, nipple play, nipple piercing, fingering, pet names, spit kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, cum eating, overstimulation and more.

A/N: I can't help it, Seonghwa drives me crazy and I like it.

It's something between a prompt for a full-length work and a one-shot, but I'm not quite sure to be honest. It's all very rambling, sorry if it's not quite what you're used to seeing from me.

I could make a complete work out of this in 2-3 parts if you want. Let me know in the comments if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, so if you think that your love and attention to my work will go by the wayside, you're wrong, I follow the blog very closely and I see all of your marks and comments.

Updates on my work will be a separate post. As always, private messages and questions are open. Feel free to write me about anything.

Have fun, bunnies. Love you all!

"Touch yourself, kitten; I want to see how you caress yourself." The voice is deep and velvety, rough around the edges, and it makes you want to obey without hesitating. A mixture of anticipation and embarrassment takes hold of your entire body and flows through your veins with frothing excitement. Your hand runs over your naked breasts. The nipples are pink and swollen.

It's never in your wildest dreams that you'd be so openly naked in front of a complete stranger. On any other day, you'd burn with shame just thinking about it. But the sight of his hard-dripping cock in front of you makes you more confident and seductive in the show you put on for him. As the pad of your thumb brushes over the hard bud, a soft moan of pleasure escapes your bitten lips.

To be honest, you couldn't call Seonghwa a complete stranger. He's a well-known сam boу, StrawberryBoy_Hwa, with hundreds of thousands of followers on Instagram and Twitter, not to mention the huge number of followers on his live streams. You've been watching him for months now, but you've always stayed in the shadows—too shy to leave a comment or make a dirty request. In that time, you've had the pleasure of seeing him in the most intimate, erotic images and suggestive poses, extolling the beauty of his slender, elegant body. But this was on a whole other level.

As his hand glides lazily over his thick, beautiful dick, you find yourself sobbing softly, unable to look away. You couldn't help but dream of replacing his hand with your own—much smaller—feeling that hot velvety length resting in your palm, making your hand look so tiny. In the soft pink and purple light of the room, his golden caramel skin shimmers faintly. Glittering powder mixes with sweat to make his body glow and shimmer sinfully. He looks so ethereal. So unholy. Almost pornographic. The piercings on his nipples flickered as his back arched, the sugar-brown flesh invitingly firm to caress.

You're sure you'd praise his entire body with your tongue and lips and leave him covered in strawberry-pink love bites if you had the chance to be near him right now.

Seonghwa seems to read your thoughts; his plump, glossy lips open in a low moan, and he reaches up to tug lightly at his nipple. It sends a slight shiver through his entire body, his hips rolling gently as he lets out a deep moan of pleasure.

Your hand finds your wet folds and slowly runs your fingers between them at that pornographic sound. The level of excitement should be disconcerting, but Seonghwa is smiling lewdly at you, licking his fuckable mouth in a languorous manner, and staring without interruption at the image in front of him on the large computer monitor.

How did you get so lucky? Did a cosmic glitch magically allow you to win a private video call with your favourite cam boy? It's all a little bit hard to believe. This must be some kind of incredibly realistic dream, but Seonghwa's hoarse moaning is evidence to the contrary.

When he speaks with you again, his voice is all purr and silky, and it sends a shockwave of excitement through your body. But something about the fact that only you can hear him now makes the situation that much more intimate and even a little forbidden. You have him all to yourself, even if it's just for a short video call.

"Show me, kitty, touch that sweet little cunt. Do it for me, my angel. I beg you…"His eyes are so big and pleading, the twinkle of a thousand stars is shining in them.

He'll destroy you.

The whimper that comes out of you is almost pathetic. You turn away shamefacedly, biting your trembling lower lip to avoid the vicious, burning gaze, though your fingers obediently pull the sticky folds apart, revealing the tight, wet hole.

"Oh yeah~ That's my kitty. Just as I imagined, all sweet and pink. All made for me." He praises you, tugging on his nipples gently, causing his hips to twitch weakly. Slowly sliding your fingers over your wet pussy, you continue to pleasure yourself. "Keep touching yourself, kitten. Keep touching yourself. Give me pleasure. I bet you're tight as hell; damn it, the thought of it makes me want to drool."

You don't think for a second that you should disobey him as you gently plunge a finger into your pussy, coating it with your own excitement before pulling it out and tracing a small circle around your sensitive clit. You tremble. You're so hot and ready for him. Seonghwa is watching you so intently that it's almost embarrassing, but your desire for his pleasure is a thousand times greater than any embarrassment or modesty.

His cock twitches, clear liquid oozing from the swollen pink head, which glistens faintly in the dim light, and his hips arch in a faint wave-like motion.

He's fucking beautiful. So much so that it's almost silly, but you can see why the rest of the world is so crazy about him.

His fingertips circle around the wet cockhead, catching the liquid and bringing his fingers to his lips, but instead of licking it off like you thought he was going to, he smears it all over his gorgeous, puffy lips.

"Mmm, it's sweet…" His whole body was glistening with powder, sweat dripping down the smooth reliefs of his heaving chest and contoured abs. The thick girth of his cock presses perfectly against his flat stomach.

"I want you to have a lick of my cock, kitten. I want you to taste me until I cum in your mouth. Would you like this, the feel of my big cock on your tongue?"

He is fucking you out of your mind without even trying, and you are falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of temptation and desire. Without a second thought, you'd do anything he asked.

Your eyes follow Seonghwa's every move, and the golden muscles of his body are trembling as you knead your tits with your free hand. The sight of them on your screen makes Seonghwa moan with longing, the soft, plump flesh barely fitting in the palm of your hand.

"I want to suck them off, they look so delicious to me. Damn! God, would you let me fuck them, please? Those are the most amazing tits I have ever seen. I want to cum on them. Oh fuck, my sperm would look so good on those fucking puffy tits of yours".

But before you can do any more than that, he flicks his tongue across the roof of his mouth and gives you a new command.

"Put those tiny fingers up that pretty cunt. I want to see you fuck yourself nice and slow for me." You do as he says and insert two fingers into your quivering hole. The silky, fluttering walls of your vagina clench tightly around your fingers, building a pleasurable pressure between your legs. As you open yourself to Seonghwa, your pleasure echoes in the wet sound throbbing on your palm. "Mmm, that's right. What a sweet little kitten you are to open yourself up in front of me like this. Spread your legs even wider; I want to see more of that pussy of yours."

"S-Seonghwa..." You stutter out his name and spread your thighs even more wide. Seonghwa, as if instinctively excited by the sight of your fingers going in and out of your squirming cunt, leans closer to the camera.

"You look so delicious, my kitten. Such a delicacy. I bet your hot walls will be so tight around my thick cock; your cunt will milk my cum like the real slut you are, right, kitty?

"Yes, yes, Hwa. I'm such a slut for you."

"Go deeper." He orders you. Your lips quiver as you awkwardly push your hips forward, plunging your fingers in at a new angle in an attempt to penetrate deeper, like he asked. You're having such a hard time; your fingers aren't long and thick enough to hit the right spots, but Seonghwa is even more aroused.

"Oh, my poor kitty, your short fingers won't be enough, will they?"

"N-no, it's so empty." You give a whimper before you sink your teeth into your lower lip. You are practically on the verge of tears.

"Do you imagine that my fingers are fucking you right now?" He brings them up to his mouth, licking them slick and wet, drooling, and letting them run down the length of his phalanges and onto the palm of his hand. "I bet I could fill that tight cunt of yours with just one of them."

"P-please, Seonghwa…" You're begging him, and at this point, you're not even sure what you're asking him to do. Seonghwa's wet fingers start gliding over his beautiful cock again, gathering viscous droplets of pre-sperm and bringing them to his lips, this time dipping into his hot mouth.

The action is driving you mad.

Plump lips, glistening with saliva and lip gloss, close in a tight ring around the long phalanges, dipping deep almost to the base. He moans, his eyes rolling and his body shaking as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, strawberry glitter tinting them a light shade of red.

Your mouth opens even though you don't want it to, your tongue flicks out, and your eyes drop to the bridge of your nose, giving your face a cute, lewd hentai anime grimace. Without even touching you, he fucks you completely. You could swear you can taste the sweet taste of his cum on the tip of your tongue.

You'd give anything to be under him or on top of him right now. Maybe even between those plush thighs, warming his beautiful cock in your mouth like an obedient kitten.

Unfortunately, that's a completely pipe dream.

"Will you cum for me, kitty?" He tilts his head with a sweet, sugary expression, but you hear the more than palpable command in his voice.

You nod thoughtlessly in hurried, repetitive motions, your hair bouncing in time.

Songhwa's plump, moist mouth opens in a melodious, prolonged moan. He gasps, his Adam's apple bulging from under the wide diamond necklace. His head is thrown back, a mop of silky pink hair shining like a halo around his angelic face. A graceful hand hastily caresses the hard length with a wet squelching sound, and you could swear the moans coming from his lips are the hottest you've ever heard. The whole spectacle, so fuckable and mesmerising at the same time, is hard for your brain to comprehend.

You start to moan along with him, trying to let Seonghwa know how he's affecting you.

It makes his gorgeous hips roll over again, his cock twitching weakly in the grip of his hand as the sound of yours reaches his ears.

"Seonghwa…I…I'm coming." You whimper as you stroke your hypersensitive clit with your thumb. Trying to match the rhythm of his hurried movements on his cock, your fingers sink deeper into your needy pussy.

"Sperm, kitten, do it for me. Make me proud of you. Squirt on those pretty fingers, and imagine my face instead, hell, I wish you'd smother me with that sweet cunt, right now".

His words are the driving force behind your mind-blowing orgasm. It's the best you've ever given yourself, supported by a hoarse, deep moan and Seonghwa's writhing body.

He cums with you. Pearly streams of semen squirt from his cockhead, staining his glistening naked chest and dripping down his abs. Without a moment's hesitation, Seonghwa's fingers scoop up his own cum and place it in his mouth. He slowly caresses his long fingers with his long tongue until every last drop of cum has disappeared in his mouth.

The result is a new wave of heat in your body, and your hole is shrinking on nothing.

"Taste it." He orders greedily as he watches you bring your hand up to your mouth. But if you're going to eat your own cum like that, you're going to have to put on a hell of a show for Songhwa in return for all the shows he's putting on for you. Your tongue slides slowly over each of your fingers, taking extra time to let the wet muscle run through each of the cracks between your fingers. Songhwa is watching you through thick lashes; he has the eyes of a bedroom, a gaze so full of lust that the iris is almost pure black.

"So delicious." You say it with a certain seductive note, pulling the last finger out of your mouth with a wet, lascivious pop.

"Damn, that was... you're a fucking hot kitten; I want to fuck you so bad." Seonghwa practically whimpers and sucks on the plush lip of his lower lip as if that's how he can taste you.

"I guess that's it, huh?" You ask. It's hard to hide the disappointment in your tone. But a deal is a deal, and that's all that comes with the winning video call. "I... I think I'll see you at the next stream, Hwa."

"Don't miss me, kitten." That's the last you hear before the screen fades and you're back in your bedroom reality.

Just like that, everything goes back to normal, and life goes back to normal. You'll be your normal self, and Seonghwa will be a popular cam boy with a small army of fans who are madly in love with him.

It will take a few minutes for you to come to your senses, and you will hardly notice the little text chat pop-up that appears on the page.

StrawberryBoy_Hwa has just sent you a private message.

"I want to hear you moan my name once again. Call me, Y/N. I'll be waiting for you. Seonghwa." And what followed was a series of numbers with a little glowing heart emoji on them.

It seems that the universe is still broken. You've got the personal number of everyone's favourite Park Seonghwa, the porn industry's most sought-after strawberry boy.

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wosoamazing · 3 months

Text

The Transfer

Summary: You move to Barca.

Warnings: None I don't think

A/N: Google translated Spanish so I apologies if it is incorrect, hope you like it. Also as usual feel free to send requests, whether it is for this Series or for kid!readers, or something else. Hope you like it.

You run to Leah when you see her, and give her a massive hug, you missed her, camp was hard, especially the second last day. There was a conversation you needed to have with her, you didn’t want to risk her finding out from someone else, so you decided to just start it right there and then in the airport.

“We need to talk about something, Le.”

“Go to Barca.”

“What?” you exclaim looking up at her, surely you heard her wrong.

“Go to Barca, you deserve it Bug, you’re amazing, go to Barca, you can always come back, Arsenal will take you back in a heartbeat, any club would take you back in a heartbeat, but you’re not going to want to come back, and I’ll visit I promise, and we can put daily facetime calls in our calendar for the first few weeks. Call me whenever you need, I’ll pick up the phone. But the girls are lovely there, and you will have Lucy and Kiera.”

“Wait, so you’re saying go? How did you find out?”

“Of course I’m saying go, it’s Barca, and the finding out part, well Alexia messaged asking if I knew anything I said no, asked Lucy and Kiera and they were like ‘yeah she spoke to us about what the people were like, and the environment etc we thought you knew’ Millie then walked in and was like ‘Guy’s shit just went down at the Matildas camp, might want to check your sister is okay though Leah’, Millie than told us what Sam told her and yeah”

“So, you’re not mad I didn’t ask you first?”

“No, I’m proud, you asked the right people the right questions, you stood up for yourself, you manage to do some pretty hard ball negotiations, and you didn’t let anyone make the decision for you, you stayed true to yourself, and I’m proud.”

_____

“Ready to go?” Lucy asks as your suitcases are loaded into the back of the car, you nod you had just played friendlies against the Lionesses in England, so at least the travel there was short, however the travel back to your club was going to be a bit longer, as you weren’t returning to Arsenal but to Barca.

“I feel sick,” Kiera moaned as she came out to join you and Lucy.

“Yeah, I told you to stop drinking, why do you think we didn’t drink.”

“Ah because she is still a week and one year underage, and you I don’t know, because you don’t know how to let loose and have fun,” Kiera replies. Last night some of your national and club teammates as well as some Leah’s national teammates had a party in your honour, to celebrate you going to Barca and to celebrate your Birthday, which was in a week.

_____

It was your first night staying at Lucy and Kiera’s and somehow it was conveniently team bonding night at their place. It didn’t seem like a coincidence at all. You were really nervous to meet the team, they all knew each other already, this was the first time you were joining a team that you were completely new in, when you joined Arsenal you already knew the girls really well because of Leah, and then when you joined the Matildas you had Steph, Kyra and Caitlin, but this was different.

You had stayed quiet for most of the night, watching the game, trying not to draw attention to yourself, however that was all unravelled when Mapi sighed “Estúpido Àrbitro. Eso fue claramente una falta.” (Stupid Referee, that was clearly a foul)

“Casi fue tarjeta amarilla.” (almost was a yellow card)

Everyone heads turned to you, and their jaws dropped. “You know Spanish?”

“Ah, well a bit, mainly to do with the game, one of my Friend’s Dad’s is Spanish and they talk Spanish at home, especially when he is watching the game.”

“Leah never told me that,” Lucy remarked, “Leah doesn’t necessarily know” “oh, so is this a friend or a friend.”

“Lucy leave the poor kid alone,” Kiera told her off.

“So it is a special friend,” “Is she, or he, cute?” “Do you have a photo?” the girls all asked at once.

“Girls, as Kiera said, leave the poor kid alone, she just got here” Alexia told them, they all shut up immediately.

_____

“Oh, Bebita, what’s wrong?” Alexia asks you as she walks into the locker room, you were slumped back in your locker, leaning against the wall, “come here”, she says as she drags you up and brings you in for a hug, in which you broke, tears start to stream down your face as you try to get out of Alexia’s grip, it was only your third day at Barcelona and yet here you were crying in front of your new captain. Alexia only tightened her grip at your actions cooing “It’s okay, I’m here,” rubbing your back slightly. “How about we sit down,” she sat down and pulled you into her lap, you rested your head on her shoulder, giving into her.

“I-I miss Le,” You sobbed into her shoulder.

“I know, its okay Bebita, we’re here,” Alexia could never understand completely how you felt but she could imagine, she could see how close you and Leah were which wasn’t surprising considering you had been living with her for the past six years but leaving her and only seeing her through the phone was something you were struggling with, and the team had started to notice it, you were always slightly sadder when you re-joined the team after being on the phone with Leah.

_____

You woke up and looked at the clock, it was 9:00am, ‘shit’ you mumble to yourself, you sprung out of your bed before flopping back into it, after having the realisation that you didn’t have training today, you had a game last night, which you played in, it was much tougher than the games at Arsenal, so you were exhausted.

It was only then that you took in your surrounds, there were balloons scattered around your room, and on the floor, there were little present signs with arrows. You quickly got yourself semi presentable before following the presents, they lead you into the living room, all your new teammates were there. “Surprise!” they all yelled whilst someone exploded one of those confetti guns, you were in fact surprised, you had been at Barca a week, you were expecting something low key with Lucy and Kiera not a whole team affair, “Come sit,” Lucy said tapping the empty section of couch between her and Alexia, as you walked over you couldn’t help but notice the pile of presents on the coffee table, you had already received gifts from your family and arsenal teammates, so these had to be from your Barca teammates but you couldn’t really believe it.

“You got these all for me?” you questioned in disbelief.

“Yes, they are all for you,” Alexia tells you before handing you a gift, “here open.”

You eventually finished making your way through the present pile and thanked everyone profusely.

However, while you thanked everyone Alexia walked in with three more presents, these ones were quite heavy. “Don’t open them yet, I just need to call someone,” whoever she was calling answered, and then she handed the phone to you, it was Leah and Lia, “Happy Birthday Bug! We may have some surprises for you, open the skinny rectangular one first. It’s from Katie, she wanted you to have it on your actual Birthday, make it more special” you opened it up and grinned it was a whoop, “tell her I like it please, and that I said thank you.”

“Will do bug, now the smaller of the two remaining was Lia’s idea, but both presents are from us” you opened the two gifts and at the sight of them tears left your eyes, “T-thank you,” your sister and Lia had just gifted you a new Mac Book Pro and a new iPhone. Ingrid moved closer to you and hugged you, knowing it was what you needed. After getting ready the rest of your morning was filled with fun festivities as the girls made sure to spoil you, however it was time to start getting ready to go out for dinner, so everyone returned to their own homes in agreeance they would all meet there, waiting for everyone to be there before they went in.

As you walked into the restaurant with the team Lucy whispered to you, “there may be one more surprise,” she gestured her head over to the massive table in the restaurant, where two familiar figures sat, you couldn’t control yourself and run over to them. “Hi Bug, glad you’re happy to see us,” Leah said hugging you “we missed you” Lia said now hugging you.

“I missed you too” you said before you sat down between them, you were grinning from ear to ear. “How are you here?” “Oh, this was all Alexia’s doing, she planned it all.” You looked over to you captain who winked at you, maybe Barca wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

#woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni #barcelona femeni

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featherandferns · 2 months

Text

orange juice (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!

word count: 7.5k

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”

A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.

“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.

“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.

“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”

You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.

“Shit, I guess I did.”

His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.

“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”

JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”

That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.

“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.

“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.

Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.

“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.

“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.

JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”

“I mean, it has been five years.”

“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?

He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.

“You look well.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.

With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.

Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?

“It was a nice service,” you say.

“Was it?”

For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.

“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”

“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”

You nod and go silent once more.

JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.

“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”

The funeral of my father.

“Right. Of course.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.

He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.

JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.

“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.

“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”

“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”

You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.

“People have layers, I guess.”

“Not my dad.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.

JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”

It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.

“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”

“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.

The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.

“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”

You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.

“This is a step up,” JJ says.

“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”

JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.

It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.

JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”

“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.

You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.

“So…” You start. “Any news?”

“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”

You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”

“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.

Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.

“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”

“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”

“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”

“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”

“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.

JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.

“What do you do for work then?”

“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”

Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.

“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.

“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.

You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”

JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.

“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”

“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.

“Thanks, JayJ.”

The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.

“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”

“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”

“Fuck off.”

“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”

“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.”

“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.

“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.

“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”

“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.

“What about Kie, and Pope?”

“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”

“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”

“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”

“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”

And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.

“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.

He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”

“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.

“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.

It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.

“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”

“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.

“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”

It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.

Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.

“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”

“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.

“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”

You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.

“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”

“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.

“You look at me different too.”

That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.

“Different?”

“Yeah. You look at me different.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.

“Yes, you do, JJ.”

Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.

“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.

“You feel like you’re on blast?”

“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”

“You’re the one that invited me here.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.

JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.

“JJ?”

“Just…”

His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”

You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.

When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’

As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.

“Cute mug.”

“Thanks. Thought of you.”

He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”

“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.

He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.

“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”

“You almost weren’t though.”

“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”

“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”

“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”

A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I…It ain't that simple.”

“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.

“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”

“Okay,” you quietly say.

“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”

“Like me?”

JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.

“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”

You nod.

“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”

And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”

“The minute I left Kildare.”

“Fuck.”

“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”

You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.

“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”

“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”

Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.

“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”

“Disappointed?”

“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”

JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”

“Says you,” you snort.

There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.

“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”

“Depends.”

“Well, you look better for it,” you say.

“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I miss you too.”

Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.

“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”

“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.

“I was in it with you.”

“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”

Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.

“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Why the fuck would I—”

“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”

JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”

JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.

“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”

“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.

You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“JJ,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.

“I forgive you, JJ.”

He shakes his head whilst you nod.

“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”

“I don’t—”

“We’re more than our mistakes.”

When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.

“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”

The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.

Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.

“I missed you,” you whine.

And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.

There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.

“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”

Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.

“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.

With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.

“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

“So much,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.

“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.

“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”

“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you quietly beg.

“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”

“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.

He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.

“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”

Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.

“Here?”

“Fuck you, Maybank.”

“You wanna?”

“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.

With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.

“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.

When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.

“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”

The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.

“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”

“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”

“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”

JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.

Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.

“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”

With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.

When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.

“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”

JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.

“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.

“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.

His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.

“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”

Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.

It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.

“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”

As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.

“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”

She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.

“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”

He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.

“What’s up, bub?”

“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”

JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.

“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.

She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop.

“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.

“Alrighty, lets go.”

As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.

“Hey.”

JJ glances down at you.

“You okay?”

He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Everything is going to be okay.

#JJ #JJ Maybank #JJ x reader #JJ Maybank x reader #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #outer banks #outerbanks #outer banks jj #outerbanks jj #outer banks jj x reader #outerbanks jj x reader #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic

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simblr-question-of-the-day · 27 days

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Introduction

Hi! I'm an anonymous asker who sometimes sends fellow simmers questions. "Simblr Question of the Day" is something I saw going on around September '23 and I wanted to revive this "trend"! After a bit, some simmers suggested a SQOTD blog, to which I agreed and finally did it! I can broaden my asking horizons to blogs w/o anons now :)

I'm going to continue preserving my anonymity, but I'd like to share some basics about me ! ~

You can call me squat or squatty! A name I chose based on the way I pronounce "SQOTD," You can also call me SQOTD Anon! My timezone is ( PST ) - I like the colors yellow and pink/red, I've been playing the sims since I was 5 and I like to read and write :)

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thestarrynightslover · 9 months

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Whatever Comes

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,147

Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of blood, life-threatening injuries, hit-and-run, fracture wounds, and miscarriage.

Summary: Doctor (y/n) (y/l/n) and Jay Halstead are secretly dating when there is a terrible accident involving (y/n) and a lot comes to light.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in a long while and I don't think it's all that good but I had to restart somewhere, so I hope you like it anyway!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You had just gotten out of your car across the street from the side of Med and, as you were making your way through the bit of road that led to the hospital, a car comes into the driveway — screeching tires, in full speed — and runs you over long before you could even see anything and, there, in the matter of a few seconds, everything goes black and you’re left bleeding out in the street.

Almost an hour later, after you had regained consciousness and had begun dragging yourself, very slowly, towards the hospital, Will and Ethan, about to go inside Med, spot you and run your way eager to help you out — even if they hadn’t known it was you at first.

“Oh man, it’s Dr. (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Ethan exclaimed.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!?” You sort of heard Will ask through your dizziness haze.

“Wow, you’re actually shorter this up close than I had imagined at first.” You attempted a joke with your friend, momentarily gaining some clarity.

Ignoring you, Will just asked no one specifically, “oh Lord, how long has she been bleeding out here?”

Decisive as always, you heard as Dr. Choi commanded, “I don’t know but, come on, Will, let’s carry her to the ED!”

As soon as your friends get inside the hospital with you, everybody stays in shock for a moment until Maggie yells: "get her in treatment 4, now!"

Following her lead, Will and Ethan get started on treating you, who has a few broken ribs, and free fluid in your belly besides from a punctured spleen. Having done their best in the ED, they decide to send your upstairs for surgery with Crocket.

Once you're going to surgery, Miss Goodwin tells Maggie and the doctors to call PD and specifically ask for Intelligence, since you were friends with the unit. As the cops get there, one stands out: Jay Halstead. He's frantic, devastated-looking, just completely lost, and desperate to hear more news about your condition. No one really understands why he is reacting like that, but all of them do share the fear of losing a great friend. Voight's giving out assignments to the team, so Jay knows that that's when he needs to speak up.

"Um, sarge?" All eyes are on him. "If you and the team don't mind running one man short today... I was hoping that I could, um, stay here with- with her?" Hank just stares at him, unlike everyone else — who are shocked — the older man's focus is on his detective's eyes, on the way he was so distraught from the moment they got the call about (y/l/n). That was the behavior, the look, of a terrified man. And, as everyone there knew, Jay Halstead — the freaking war vet — wasn't one to get scared easily. "(y/n) and I-"

"It's fine. No need to explain. You should stay here, Jay. Let us know, in case anything changes. And we'll catch the son of a bitch." He said firmly, making Jay feel as appreciative as ever, and, also, sending an implicit message to all the other members of the unit, one that said: we work this with all we got right now, for (y/n), and for Jay, no questions asked.

After the officers left the hospital, there was still a big commotion from everyone who stayed, because it was one of their own up there in the or. But, surpassing everyone else's, was Will's surprise by how distraught Jay looked, especially considering how his little brother wanted to stay at the hospital, instead of going to find who hurt you. So he comes to confront the detective about it. "So... You and (y/n) are a thing?" Will asked, trying to understand. Since Jay just nodded his head, he decided to push a little further: "And... Were you ever planning to tell me? What the hell, man?"

"Will, I-"

"She's one of my best friends, Jay! Not to mention the fact that I'm the doctor who oversees her work here!"

"Will you put it down?" Jay pleaded with his brother, motioning him to a more reserved corner of the waiting room. "I know, okay? I know. And I'm sorry if it upsets you, man, I really am. But this could've blown her career. That's why we hadn't told you yet." It was clear that Will didn't exactly like his brother's explanation, but he knew it was true.

"Just... How long?"

"Um, about six months?"

"Six months?!" The doctor yelled in shock, then repeated it in a lower tone. "But, six months?"

"Yeah, I know it's a lot of time keeping you in the dark, Will. But, trust me, we weren't thrilled about it. And we were hoping to tell you soon. I swear." Jay said, and his brother could, once again, see it was the truth.

"So, that means that when you started seeing each other she was still finishing med school?"

"Yeah, that's right. Which was, like, the main reason for us to keep it under wraps. An intern dating the attending doctor's little brother? Wouldn't look good."

"That's true..." At that point, Will took another look at his brother. Jay looked so worried and scared, even while trying to hide it. "So, uh, you guys are serious?" That question got a little smile out of the detective.

"Yes, we are. I know that it is new for you... But, I love her, Will. I really do." He took a moment to breathe, not being able to hold back some tears this time. “And, I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”

“Jay…” Will started saying but didn’t quite know how to continue. What could he possibly say to comfort his brother right now? “We just… We just gotta stay hopeful, okay? (y/n) is a really tough person and Dr. Marcel is a great surgeon, you know it. She is gonna pull through.”

A lot of disquieting hours later Crocket finally comes out of the surgery, just to be met by a very worried hospital staff and an on-edge Jay Halstead.

"Where is sh- How is she? Is (y/n) okay? Can I see her?" The detective hovers, not even taking a breath.

"Wow! Uh, you gotta calm down a little, buddy."

"Don't give me that crap! Just- just tell me how she is!" Jay shouts again, not giving a damn about what anyone was thinking. You were the only thing on his mind right now.

"Alright. But try to keep breathing, okay?" To that, the other man didn't even bother to answer. "Okay, um, it was a very complicated surgery, I had to do a lot of cleaning and moving around to get to the worst parts and-"

"Can you please just cut to the part where you tell me if she's okay? No offense, but you can fill me in on the details later." Jay stated nervously. It wasn't just that he wanted to know what was the result of all those hours in the or, but, also, because Jay knew he wouldn't understand half of what Connor was saying, even with the simplified language. You would. But not him.

"Right. Okay. She's, um, she's okay for now. We'll need to monitor her on an hourly basis, though." By that point, the surgeon could already see the relief on both Halsteads' faces, so he went on. "We controlled the bleeding, but, with all the blood loss," he stopped to take another look at the detective, "I'm afraid," another pause, because, sure he had delivered this kind of news before, but this time it was a lot harder, because those people were his friends. And, what they had just lost, he had just lost too, in a way, "we couldn't save the baby."

"The baby?" This time he got an answer from both brothers.

"Uh, uh... You, uh, you didn't know she was pregnant?" Crocket asked, kind of already guessing the answer while sharing a look with Will.

"Oh my God..." It was all the youngest Halstead managed to let out. Seeing how his brother was unable to react any further, Will decided to step up and ask the tough questions.

"So, um, if everything goes well from now on, you think that (y/n/n) will make a full recovery?"

"Ahhh, yes, actually. She was in great health, so, after making it through, uh, through the night, she shouldn't have any major issues." At that point, Marcel himself was trying to be as objective and as doctorish as possible, in order not to make things worse for the man who had just heard that he lost a child he didn't even have a chance to wait for.

"So, is it, um- is it possible that she didn't know about the pregnancy yet?" But, damn it, Will just kept asking all the impossible questions.

"Uh... It is, actually. Very possible." Hearing that, the detective immediately glued his eyes on him. "We estimate that the fetus was about seven weeks. It's very common that women on birth control haven't found out about it at that point." As neither Halstead said anything, Marcel continued, "well, she's up in the ICU now and in and out of consciousness but, if you want, you can see her for a few minutes."

Hearing that, the detective came out of his haze and said: "Yeah, I wanna see her!"

A few hours later, as Will Halstead gathered his things after finishing his shift, he decided to go check on you but got surprised when he realized that his brother was still there, in the waiting room. "Jay, what are you still doing here?"

"I'm waiting," he said simply.

"Jay." Will called again, "you can't do this, you need to go home, get some sleep, eat…"

"I'm not leaving her alone."

"She's not gonna be alone, Jay." Not getting any response, Will decided to lead with something else. "You know, Voight called Goodwin and said that they're hitting a lot of walls in the (y/l/n) investigation…" Measuring his brother's reaction, Will continued: "Maybe they'd have better luck working with the whole team…"

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tomorrow I'll tell Voight that I want in on the investigation." Jay said, not making any sign of wanting to leave.

"Jay, you can't work tomorrow after staying here the whole night!" Seeing his little brother still not intending to leave, he threatened, "if you don't go home right now, I'll call Voight myself and tell him that you're in no shape to work-"

"Oh, c'mon! You're gonna do that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," Will said, looking as serious as they get. "Look, Jay, you know she's in good hands here. And, whatever happens, you'll be the first to know, I've made sure of it."

"But-"

"But nothing, Jay! It's time to go, come on!" Will pressed so much that Jay resigned himself to do as his brother told him.

For almost a week, you stayed in the ICU. For almost a week, Jay Halstead passed by Med on his way to work and on his way home from work.

Once you were moved to a room, Jay started feeling like he could finally breathe again, even though there was now the baby that someone had still to tell you. And, after chatting with Will and Crockett, Jay had already decided he was gonna be the one to deliver the news to you. So, one day, after Intelligence had already caught the drug dealers that were running away when they hit you, Jay asked Voight for the afternoon off to take you home from the hospital.

When you were at your place, you asked Jay what was going on: "Hey, you didn't say a word on the way here, is anything besides the fact that I just spent almost two weeks in the hospital and that everyone found out about us wrong?"

"Let's sit down for a minute, babe."

The minute he said that, you knew there was something really wrong.

"Okay, you're scaring me…" You said while sitting down on the couch.

"I just- I have something important to tell you," and, like that, Jay proceeded to tell you the worst thing you ever heard. It's not like you'd been planning on becoming a mother or anything like that anytime soon but it was still a possibility that was brutally taken away… You and Jay cried together for the first time and, consoling each other, you felt your relationship growing stronger.

So much so that after some time you could start talking about the future that both of you foresaw with one another and, even though nothing was completely decided, there was one thing you knew for sure: as long as you were together, you could face anything.

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genericpuff · 2 months

Text

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forgetminot · 1 year

Note

hi hi! I really loved your other fic, it made me all giddy <3

may i request reader who suddenly starts to distance themselves away from/avoiding (wandering off, offering to split up, less talkative - which is unlike them) Leon because of their growing feelings and they hope it fades away soon since they're on a mission. And then they get chained together like that one scene and Leon confronts reader about it since they can't escape him and reader plays dumb at first but Leon pulls them in (like he did Luis) and made them talk

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THISS DHRDSER THIS HAS JUST BEEN ON MY MIND RECENTLY

Have a nice day!

Talk To Me

~ Leon Kennedy x gn reader ~

[ Warnings ; Guns, knives, blood, death (of an infected villager) violence, profanities, angst, angst and more angst, lil bit of fluff at the end. ]

A/N ; Thank you for the kind message! And to everyone else for the support on my first fic it actually made me sooo happy!! I hope you enjoy this request sorry if the violence is a bit too much i just wanted to add more to the story. ♡♡

----

Lil' overview: You have been trying your best to avoid Leon; Ignoring his questions and running off into danger. What happens when he confronts you about it and you have nowhere to go?

----

Gif belongs to @eurodynamic

You were acting differently; giving short blunt answers to all of Leon's questions, walking away as soon as he turned his back for a split second and putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Leon knew something was wrong, he just wasn't quite sure what yet. "Y/n" You ignore Leon, continuing to make your way to the small house in front of you that looked like it would collapse the second you turned the door handle. You hear Leon sigh deeply from behind you "Y/n" he repeats, this time you turn and just as you open your mouth about to reply with some short, smartass answer you hear a thud.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, your hand reaching for your gun holster. Leon nods doing the same. Thud. He steps in front of you opening the door slowly, aiming his gun forwards.

"Stay behind me." You enter the house behind Leon closing the door quietly, listening for the same sound again. Thud . Making your way through the house you follow the sound as you go, picking up any supplies that look like they could be useful. "Shh!" Leon points to the man hammering the ground in front of you and he approaches carefully, his knife tightly gripped in his hand as he sinks it into the man's neck and he falls to the ground suddenly - blood from the stab wound oozing onto the floor planks . Leon loots the dead man's corpse, taking the pesetas from the man's pockets, before removing the planks from the trap door that's in the floor to the left. "C'mon". He makes his way down the ladder, you following closely behind. Flicking on your flashlight you shine it around the dark and misty tunnel, there's nothing special down there apart from a few crates and barrels and a small green herb hidden behind a dusty old sheet, but as you move your flashlight to the end of the tunnel you see a bag, In the shape of a body and... its moving.

"You're not going to open that are you?" You whisper. Leon doesn't answer you, instead he takes his knife cutting the bag open; there's a man inside tied up with his mouth taped closed. Leon leans closer to the man and removes the tape from his mouth, quite harshly.

"That hurts you know" The stranger says, he sounds pretty relaxed, considering that he's tied up in a body bag at the end of a random basement tunnel.

"Seemed like you really wanted to talk" Leon replies bluntly.

"How observant, señor. Now. Say- you got a smoke?" You can't help but crack a small smile at the man.

"You know, those things can kill." You pipe up.

"Oh, well, maybe just untie me then." The stranger rolls forward, giving Leon room to release him. You watch carefully seeing the man's eyes widen and his face drop. "¡Joder! Not this guy." You and Leon both turn around swiftly, drawing your guns and pointing them at the huge individual that stands in front of you; it walks towards you, slapping your gun from your hand and throwing you across the room with force.

Darkness.

You wake to the rattling and clashing of chains above you, opening your eyes and squinting from the change of light. You pull down on the chains, hoping to loosen your restrained hands - You feel someone behind you and turn your head. "Leon?" You pull on the chains again. "Leon is that you?"

"Yes. It's me - Fuck, stop yanking on the chains." He groans. You both step back and turn around to face each other. Great, this is exactly what you wanted right now; to be chained to the one person you were trying to avoid. His eyes are scanning the room, looking for some way to break out of whatever contraption you were in.

"What happened to the other guy?" You look around the room and well, he's nowhere to be seen.

"No idea." Leon responds, glancing up at where the chain is connected to the roof.

"Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't know Y/n. Right now I'm more worried about getting us out of here." You roll your eyes, pulling your hands down causing Leon to trip forward; you bite back a laugh smiling at Leon.

"Every time I move, you move?" You ask. Leon raises his eyebrow and yanks hard on the chain forcing you to stumble towards him.

"What the fuck?" You glare up at him, holding your hands against his chest to steady yourself.

"Talk to me."

"What? About what?" You're trying to act oblivious and Leon knows it, he's not dumb.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." You try to step back, away from Leon but he's holding you in place. "Talk." He repeats.

"This really isn't the time to be having a one to one Leon!" He stays quiet, looking down at you, waiting for a response.

"I can't." You respond softly. Leon loosens the chain, letting you step back and you do. "I- I thought maybe if i tried to ignore it, it would go away."

"Ignore what?"

You laugh gently, refusing to make eye contact with the man ahead of you. "That I like you - as more than friends, more than co-workers."

"You thought ignoring me and putting yourself in danger would - what, be a distraction? " You tilt your head up to look at Leon nodding softly. "You're such an idiot." He mumbles.

"Wow, thanks!" You retort. "What a great way to respond to my confession." Leon grins, yanking hard on the chain again but this time he steadies you. "What are you doing?" You question shyly. He stares at you, his eyes looking at every small, minor detail on your face.

"Just go with it." He whispers, placing his lips softly against yours. "Such an idiot." He repeats smiling into the kiss.

----

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serpentandlily · 7 months

Text

Wicked Games II

Dark!BatBoys x Reader (modern au!)

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian.

Warnings: smut (minors dni pls), dubcon, drugging, violence, dark themes (if you would like more in depth warnings before reading, feel free to message me!)

a/n: thank you guys for the love on part I! Hope you enjoy this one just as much <3

➻❥ Part I

༺♥༻

Part II

༺♥༻

As soon as the shock of seeing Rhysand in your tiny studio apartment wore off, you quickly grabbed your phone off the floor and started to dial 911. Before you could hit the last digit, a large hand yanked your wrist forward and snatched the phone right out of your own hand.

You gaped up at Rhysand as he cruelly smiled at you, snapping the phone into two pieces right in front of your face. He released the broken phone, letting it fall to the floor.

“I don’t think so, darling,” he purred.

You let out a yelp and turned for the door to make your escape but Rhysand grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you back into his hard chest. Your heart skipped a beat, panic now setting in. You were fucked. So fucked.

“Don’t even think about running, little mouse.” His breath ghosted the tip of your ear. “Do you remember my two friends?”

You said nothing, your body freezing subconsciously, as if it knew you were now in the hands of a predator. And a sick, twisted part of you liked it.

“I asked you a question,” he snarled, his hand that was holding you by the back of your neck moved until it wrapped around the front of your throat. He squeezed and you let out a whimper, finding it in you to nod finally.

“Good,” he said, easing up on the pressure. You choked some air in, gasping. “Well, they’re waiting out there for you. So run and you’ll find yourself in their hands, instead. And let me tell you something. I think you’ll find I’m a lot more merciful than they are, darling.”

He twisted you until faced your own apartment and then pushed you forward onto your bed. You crashed into the mattress face first, letting out a curse. You flipped yourself over to see him staring down at you, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“I’ll scream,” you threatened, brushing the hair out of your face.

“Go ahead, darling. I don’t think anyone will care.”

You hated that he was right. No one would care. Not in this neighborhood. Screams, shouts, cries for help. Those all went ignored. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a near growl.

Rhysand raised a single eyebrow at your tone. “You break into my apartment, steal my money, and have the audacity to have an attitude with me? Oh, little mouse, you are more than I expected.”

“If you’re looking for your money back, it's no use. It’s gone already. And you won’t find any cash lying around here.”

Rhysand’s flickered around your pathetic apartment. “I’m not here for my money.”

“Then what do you want, asshole?”

Rhysand’s lips ticked upwards, a small challenge flashing in his eyes. “I want to know who you’re working for, little mouse.”

“I’m not working for anyone,” you scoffed and went to stand but Rhysand’s eyes darkened.

“Sit down,” he ordered, his tone lethal.

You swallowed nervously and sat back down, suddenly realizing the most dangerous male in Prythian was here, in your apartment.

“Tell me who sent you to my apartment. Tell me who you’re working for.”

You shook your head. “No one, I’m not working for anyone. No one sent me to your apartment. It wasn’t personal. I just needed to pay off a debt and I figured you’d hardly notice six grand missing from your stacks of money.”

“And who do you owe money to?”

You looked away from him, debating if you should tell him. Rhysand probably didn’t even know who Tamlin was. Tamlin was a small-time criminal, nothing like Rhysand.

“Tamlin,” you murmured.

Rhysands’s grin turned feral and you wondered if you had made a mistake in telling him that.

“What kind of debt do you owe Tamlin?”

Shit, maybe he did know who Tamlin was. “None of your business.”

Rhysand studied you. “Well, little mouse, it seems that you owe me a debt now.”

Your mouth went dry. “I-I thought you weren’t here for money.”

“I’m not,” he chimed, stroking his well-defined jaw. You tensed as his eyes roamed your figure from head to toe, his gaze darkening as he met your stare again. “It's you I’m here for, little mouse.”

“M-me?” you stuttered. “I don’t…what do you mean?”

Rhysand lurched forward, grabbing your chin in his hand to force you to keep looking up at him. You winced at the pain of his fingers digging into your skin and that only seemed to rile him up more, his pupils dilating.

“What I mean, darling,” he purred, “is that I own you now. You are mine.”

“What–What does that even mean?” You tried to pull out of his grasp but he only tightened his grip further until tears lined your eyes at the pain. “You can’t just own someone!”

“Oh I can and I do,” he smirked. “You’ll soon come to find there are many people in Prythian that I own.”

“I’ll go to the police,” you snapped. “I’ll tell them everything I saw at your apartment.”

“No, darling, you won’t.” A stray tear fell from the corner of your eye and you watched Rhys track it down with his unusual eyes. “Gods, you are so pretty when you cry. The second I saw you, I knew you had to be mine. I guess I can thank you for that, for putting yourself on my radar, little mouse.”

“I’m not yours. I don’t belong to anyone,” you argued. You tried to rip yourself from his grip again and this time, he let you. He stood back to his full height, straightening out the ends of his sleeves.

“Think what you want but you are mine now, darling. I own you, remember that,” Rhysand said and turned to make his way across your shitty apartment to the door. You huffed, pissed that he had dismissed you like that.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you yelled at him, standing and following him to the door. “Do you think you have some sort of blackmail on me? What are you going to do? Tell the police I stole some of your dirty cash?”

His hand twisted the door knob but he paused for a second, turning to stare at you over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch, little mouse.”

Your lips pressed together in a flat line, angry that he wouldn’t answer.

He left out the door and you rushed forward, sticking your head out to watch him leave.

“How are you going to do that? You broke my phone, asshole!” you shouted at his back.

You heard him chuckle before he disappeared around the corner.

༺♥༻

“So let me get this straight,” Vivianne, your friend, shouted over the booming music of the club. She and Valerie were sitting in the private booth across from you. “You stole from the Rhysand.”

You nodded, sipping on your gin and tonic bitterly. You were still perturbed by your visit from Rhysand yesterday. Still had no idea what he wanted or what he had meant by anything he had said.

“And you managed to get away only for him to figure out where you live and show up at your apartment?”

You groaned, resting your head against the cushion behind you. “He broke into my apartment. He was already there when I got home from dealing with Tam.”

Both of them made a face at the name of your ex. “And all he did was break your phone, threaten you a bit, and then left? Do you…Do you realize how lucky you are to still be alive, y/n?!”

“Yes, I’m aware,” you replied with a sigh. “Turns out even Rhysand is more forgiving than my ex. How depressing is that?”

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” a waiter cut in, stopping at your table. You glanced up to see him holding a small tray in his hand, a cocktail sitting on it. “That gentleman over there sent this for you, miss.”

He was looking at you as he said that, setting the drink down in front of you. You looked over to where he had gestured to see a fairly handsome man staring back.

“Thank you,” you said to the waiter who took his leave.

Your two friends giggled. “Well, are you going to go talk to that gentleman?”

You snorted. There were no gentlemen in this club. He had bought that drink hoping to get in your pants. But it had been awhile since you had sex and the male was attractive. You shrugged, tossing back your old drink and picking up the new one.

“I think I am,” you said, standing.

Vivianne winked at you, knowing exactly what you planned on doing with that man. “We expect all the details tomorrow morning.”

“You know I never disappoint,” you purred, with a wink back, before saying good-bye to your friends and making your way over to the male at the bar.

༺♥༻

You groaned, rubbing your eyes, as you sat up in your bed. You blinked awake, struggling to reach for the glass of water on your nightstand. You went to reach for your phone to check the time before remembering that Rhysand had broken it. You cursed him and looked at the small alarm clock you had, realizing it was already one in the afternoon.

You had gotten home in the early hours of the morning after leaving that male’s apartment. The sex hadn’t even been that good. Definitely not worth this headache.

You made your way to your bathroom, going through the motions of showering and getting ready for the day. You had a shift tonight at the diner you worked for as a waitress.

You went to the kitchen, squinting your eyes at the sun’s light streaming through the window. You filled up your glass of water before fishing in one of the drawers for some advil. You tossed two back and turned towards the counter.

A scream escaped your lips and the glass you were holding slipped, crashing to the floor and splintering into a million pieces. You backed up until you hit the cupboards behind you, gasping with a hand over your mouth.

Sitting on your counter was the decapitated head of the male you had gone home with last night. His face was frozen in a scream, his eyes glazed over. Blood was still dripping from the hole where his neck once was, making a huge mess all over your counter. Pinned to his forehead was a note.

You inched forward and ripped it from the head with shaky hands.

To My Little Mouse,

I don’t like my belongings tampered with. Let another male touch you again and there will be hell to pay. And don’t bother calling the cops, darling. I think you’ve realized now that you are being watched. They won’t help you anyways.

Rhysand

Fuck. This…This had to be some joke. Some fucked up joke. The head probably wasn’t real. It was probably from one of the Halloween stores that had popped up last week, at the start of October. You glanced back at the head and vomited all over the floor. It was real. It was fucking real.

On the counter next to the head, but far away enough not to be sitting in the pile of blood that had accumulated, was a big black box with a red bow on top. When you finally composed yourself, you scooted out of the kitchen, trying your hardest not to look at the human head on the counter, and grabbed the box from the other side.

You brought the box into the living space, trying to get as far from the head as possible before you opened it. You tossed aside the black tissue paper inside to see a brand new iphone sitting on top of something folded. Another note was on top of the phone.

Sorry for breaking your phone, little mouse, but I’m sure you’ll like this one much better.

Rhysand

You frowned, setting the phone and letter to the side before pulling out the other thing in the box. It was a little black dress. You set it aside, confused.

You picked up the phone, pressing the side button to turn it on. It seemed the phone had already been set-up, going to the home screen instead. A picture of Rhysand was the wallpaper and you rolled your eyes at his arrogance.

Before you could even look through the apps and stuff, a text message came through from an unknown number.

Unknown: I see you’ve received my gift, little mouse. Hope you enjoyed the other one, as well. Consider it your first lesson.

You: What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m calling the police. Now.

Unknown: You won’t. We both know you won’t. And you wouldn’t want to make your punishment any worse than it already will be, darling.

You wanted to chuck the phone at the wall, to snap it in half. You were certain this was just another way for him to track you. But if he already had people watching you, did it matter? You groaned, looking down at the phone again to see another text.

Unknown: Did you see what else was in the box, little mouse?

You: A dress?

Unknown: Yes, that is what you will be wearing when I pick you up tomorrow at 9pm. I’ll be sending over two girls to help you get ready at 8:30pm. Be home or else.

You: I’m not going anywhere with you. And I certainly won’t be letting two random strangers into my apartment! FUCK OFF

Unknown: Such naughty words, little mouse. Maybe you want to be punished more. I will see you tomorrow night. Don’t worry about your other little gift. Someone will be by to take care of it when you leave for work.

How the hell did he know your work schedule? Gods, he wasn’t lying when he said he was having you watched. You were in deep waters now. Truly.

And you had no idea how you were going to get yourself out of it.

You clicked out of the messages and pulled up the dial pad, hitting 911. You held the phone up to your ear as it rang, both fear and anger rushing through you. Fuck him. You were calling the cops. You didn’t care if you would get in trouble for stealing from him. There was a fucking head of a dead male in your apartment.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I need to report a murder,” you said quickly, whispering as if Rhysand was in the apartment with you. “There is a… head of a dead male in my apartment.”

“What is your location, ma’am?”

“1962 Alis Ct, Hewn City. Apartment number 333.”

There was a pause before the operator spoke again. “Okay, the cops are on their way. Stay on the phone with me until they arrive, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, the phone shaking in your hand.

“Do you know the identity of the male?”

“Yes and I know who killed him too,” you answered quickly.

“Okay, ma’am, I’m going to need you to speak slower. You said you know the person who killed him? Who? Can you give me a name?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, still shaking. “Yes, his name is Rhysand. He’s the owner—”

“Excuse me, ma’am. Did you say his name is Rhysand?”

“Yes! H-he’s stalking me! He showed up at my apartment two days ago and I know he’s the one who put the…head here.”

Another pause.

“Ma’am, do you know it's illegal to make prank calls to the police emergency line?”

“I–I…what?! I’m not…I’m not making a fucking prank call. There is a real, fucking head in my apartment! I have text messages. I can prove it was Rhysand!”

“Do you know what the penalty is for prank calling the police? Up to ten thousand dollars in fines and a year in prison. That is what you’re looking at. It is in your best interest to end this call now, ma’am. Or the cops that were on the way to your apartment can come arrest you instead. What will it be?”

“You–You’ve got to be kidding! This isn’t a fucking prank call! Please, I need the cops. I need help! There—”

“I’ll give you one more chance, ma’am. End the call now or be arrested.”

“Fuck!” You cursed before hitting the red button to end the call. You let out a scream of frustration. What the fuck? Why the fuck did she think you were lying? Or did Rhysand have more sway over this godforsaken city than you thought?

The phone dinged again, a message popping up on the screen.

Unknown: Naughty little mouse. I told you not to bother with the police.

This time you really did throw the phone across the room.

༺♥༻

You didn’t even have to let the two girls in at 6:30pm the next day. Apparently, Rhysand also had made keys to your apartment. You had nearly peed yourself in fright when the door to your apartment swung open. Two women sauntered in dressed in all black. They were beautiful with long dark hair and onyx eyes. Twins, it seemed.

They didn’t even say anything to you, didn’t answer any question you asked them. Instead one of them wrestled you to sit at your clean counter and began to unpack a whole traincase full of make-up and hair products.

The other one grabbed the black dress from the floor and hung it, smoothing out the winkles.

They proceeded to do your make-up, giving you a black smokey eye and a red lip to compliment it. They also curled your hair and then pushed the black dress in your hands, gesturing at you to change. You made your way into the bathroom, not wanting to get naked in front of them, and put the dress on.

It was strapless and clung to your body. It was fairly plain except for the bottom of the right side where the dress was cut in an arch and rhinestones dangled from the edge to fill in the spot. You had also been given matching earrings to wear along with a thin, silver bracelet. A pair of black heels had been included as well. All of it seemed expensive, you even recognized some of the luxury brand names. This outfit alone was probably worth more than your monthly rent here.

By the time you got dressed and made your way out of the bathroom, the two girls were gone and you were alone again in your apartment. A knock on your door had you jumping in place, your heart accelerating even more than it already was. You hesitantly walked over to the door and opened it.

You were surprised to see not Rhysand, but one of the other males that had been present that day you had snuck into his apartment. It was the beautiful one, with his elegant bone structure and hypnotizing cold, hazel eyes. He gave you a once over, a muscle ticking in his jaw, before he held out an arm towards you.

You stared at it.

“You are to come with me,” he said, his voice as dark as his presence. You remembered Rhysand’s remark about his friends and decided not to test the male.

A shiver ran down your spine and you placed your hand in the crevice of his elbow. He guided you out of your apartment like a true gentleman. You gulped, staring up at him as he led you down the stairs.

“Who are you?” You finally worked up the courage to ask. He glanced at you again, his eyes darkening as they drifted down your face.

“Azriel.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “A-Azriel? As in…the Shadow of Death?”

He said nothing else but his lips ticked up for a second, an answer in itself. You found yourself shaking the rest of the way down the stairs now knowing who you were walking with. Azriel. That name was known in the criminal world, though most people called him the Shadow of Death. Because wherever he was, death normally followed.

Of course, nothing could ever be proven, no evidence ever tied back to him. Which is why he was here with you and not in prison.

Waiting outside for you two was a black limo, all the windows tinted so you couldn’t see in. The door swung open as you approached and Rhysand was there, sticking out a hand to help you in.

He grinned as he looked you over. “You look just as I hoped you would.”

You gritted your teeth, sliding into the limo. Azriel followed behind you and the other male from that day was already seated inside. He gave you a small smirk, his eyes also unabashedly trailing over your body and face.

Rhysand pulled you to his side but you pushed him away with a hiss. “Where the fuck are you taking me, asshole?”

“Oh, the kitty cat has claws,” the taller and more muscular male chuckled. The other two laughed at his remark, causing your cheeks to turn hot with embarrassment.

“I told you she had a filthy mouth, Cassian,” Rhysand said, stroking your arm. You grimaced at his touch, pushing his hand away.

“Do you want to try asking that question again?” You gasped, not even noticing how close Azriel had slid in behind you. You could feel his hot breath against the back of your neck. You shivered again at his dark, sensual voice. Your hands clenched into fists.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked again, through gritted teeth.

“Where are you taking me, sir,” Azriel cut in. “Try again.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder with a glare but he only stared down at you with that icy expression. You turned to see Rhysand watching you with amusement.

“Where are you taking me, sir?” you spat.

“I needed an escort for tonight.” Rhysand shrugged.

“I’m not a prostitute,” you hissed.

“Of course not, darling,” Rhysand said with a flick of his hand. “You are my date.”

You couldn’t stop your cheeks from turning a bit pink at his words. Couldn’t stop the coiling in your stomach. You bit your lip, looking away from him and his stupid, hot, smug face.

Rhysand shot forward, plucking your bottom lip free from your teeth. You wanted to back away from him but Azriel was still behind you and you found yourself pushed against his hard chest, now squeezed between the two males.

“Don’t touch me,” you breathed out, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You won’t be saying that by the end of the night,” Rhysand purred. “I can promise you that.”

“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever want any part of you,” you managed to choke out.

“I don’t think, darling, I know,” he replied, gripping your chin in his hand like he had the other day to force you to look up at him. “Besides, you are mine. I own you, little mouse. I will do whatever I want with you.”

“You’re sick,” you spat, trying to ignore the heat that just blazed through your skin at his words. You were just as sick as him for even being slightly turned on right now.

Rhysand sat back, tossing his arm over the back of the bench seat with a shrug. “I am. But so are you, little mouse.”

His violet gaze apparently saw right through you.

He reached forward and plucked a champagne bottle from the ice tray on the other side of the limo. He filled up a glass for himself before handing the bottle off to Cassian.

“You have a very important role tonight, little mouse,” he said, twirling his glass in his hand. “I expect you to play it well.”

“And what role am I supposed to be playing?”

“You are going to sit there and look pretty.” Rhysand turned to look at you again with a smirk. “Should be easy enough for you.”

“And how is that supposed to help with whatever the fuck you’re doing tonight?”

“Because, darling, you are going to be quite the distraction.”

You said nothing else during the car ride while the three males talked with each other. You were surprised by how they were acting, like they were truly best friends and not just partners. You had never seen anything like it. Tamlin had never been like that with his two guards.

The limo finally stopped and you realized you were at Velaris, the nightclub owned by Rhysand. You were also far away from your apartment, from your neighborhood in Hewn City. And this area was entirely different. Clean and filled with rich people.

“Come, little mouse,” Rhysand said, holding out a hand to you to help you from the limo. You took it, remembering that you’re supposed to be his date, and let him lead you into the club, right past the long line of people waiting to be let in.

It wasn’t the first time you had been here, so you were familiar enough with the place once you were inside. The music was blaring, lights so dimmed and different colors, creating a dark atmosphere.

You held his hand as he maneuvered your group through the crowd until you made it to the vip section. The guard standing at the roped off section let you guys through as soon as he saw Rhysand.

You were pulled into a far corner, into a private lounge area secluded from the rest.

The three men filled the booth and you stood awkwardly, wondering where the hell you’d fit.

Rhysand patted his lap with a feline grin. “Come here, darling.”

“You’re joking,” you muttered but he didn’t falter.

“He’s not, little mouse,” Cassian said. His voice was as masculine as his appearance was and you found yourself feeling slightly warm at the sound of it. “Better get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

You sighed but obliged, perching yourself on Rhysand’s lap. Rhysand was quick to wrap an arm around you, his hand spreading out on your stomach as he pulled you back even more so you were resting against his chest.

Your legs dangled off the side of his thighs, making you face Cassian. The male ran a hand through his long hair, sending you a wink which you scoffed at, looking away. But your cheeks still turned pink and you were certain he noticed.

A table girl came by a second later, dropping off four drinks at the table, already apparently knowing their orders. Rhysand slid a clear one in front of you and the smell of vodka reached your nose.

He pulled something out of his pocket with his free hand. It was a little baggy filled with white powder. He tore it open with his teeth and poured half of it into the drink in front of you. It disappeared into the liquid.

“Drink that,” he ordered.

You snorted. “You literally just put who knows what into that and you really think I’m going to drink it?”

“You are,” he said smoothly, bringing his own drug-free drink up to his lips. His was whiskey, you figured out by the smell of it.

“Like I said,” you replied, crossing your arms. “You’re delusional and sick in the head.”

He ignored you, looking over your head at Azriel. Before you noticed the look they shared, Azriel fisted your hair and yanked your head back. You let out a cry of both surprise and pain.

Rhys took advantage of the moment, pouring the drugged drink into your mouth before you could react. He slammed your mouth shut with his hand and held it closed as you looked at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Swallow,” he commanded. You shook your head, desperately trying to pry your mouth open but he was too strong. “Swallow it. Now.”

A bit of the minty tasting liquid slid down your throat and you choked on it, unintentionally letting the rest of it follow. Rhysand let go of your jaw and you gasped for air, glaring at him.

“What the fuck did you just give me?”

“Just something to help you relax, little mouse,” he purred. “Calm down. It’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you spat him. “If you rape me, I swear to the gods—”

Rhysand’s eyes darkened as he met your stare. “No one is going to rape you. I would never let that happen, little mouse.”

You wanted to spit something back at him but the genuine look on his face made you falter. You swallowed back your retort just as a slinky looking male walked over to the table. Rhysand’s persona flipped in an instant, that cocky, smooth look back on his face. You tuned out the men as they started to talk, focusing on the alcohol that was now spreading through you as well as whatever fucking drug Rhysand had put in it.

More people came up, only ever one by one. He was dealing with some sort of business thing but you didn’t bother listening. The more you knew, the more trouble you’d be in when this all eventually got shut down.

The table girl came back a few times, bringing new drinks. Rhysand had slid another drink in front of you, not putting anything in it this time. You decided to drink it. You were already drugged, what more could possibly happen? You had wanted to keep a sober, attentive mind tonight. But Rhysand clearly had other plans.

The alcohol hit its mark, or maybe it was the drug, because you finally relaxed into Rhysand’s hold, the feeling of warmth spreading throughout your body. He seemed to notice, grinning down at you, satisfied. You continued to sip on your drink while Rhysand did his business, perched on his lap just like he wanted.

His hands were all over you. Part of you wanted to protest, but a dark side of you liked how his hands felt on your body. His hand rubbed circles on your waist, his thumb rising up high enough to brush against the underside of your breast, occasionally causing you to suck in a breath. His other hand was resting on your thigh, petting your exposed skin.

There was a break in people coming to the table, the three males just talking amongst themselves. You leaned forward to grab your drink, taking another sip. A bit of liquid dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You went to wipe it by Rhysand grabbed your hand before you could.

“Cassian, our little mouse is making a mess out of herself. Clean her up,” he ordered.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at the other male. He smirked, his own eyes flashing with both amusement and hunger. He leaned towards you, swiping your lip with his thumb before bringing up to his mouth and sucking the spilled alcohol off of it. His devilish grin had your pulse spiking. Fuck. Why were these males so attractive? It wasn’t fair.

You released the breath you were holding in as Rhysand let your arm drop. You looked up at him through your lashes. “I thought you didn’t want other males to touch me.”

Rhysand leaned down to whisper in your ear, “They are the only ones allowed to touch you. And I think you want them to, little mouse. They are like my brothers. We share everything.”

He pulled back winking at you and you looked away, your cheeks turning bright red as the image of you squished between the three men popped up in your head. Rhysand seemed to read your mind, chuckling as he took a sip from his glass.

Whatever drug he had given you was working now. You felt fire pulsing through your veins. Your skin was warm but you wanted to be touched. Rhysand went back to stroking you and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching into his touch. Not when it felt so good.

This feeling only grew and grew the longer you sat there in his lap. You shifted again, crossing your legs to try and ease the tension between them. Rhysand growled, his hands tightening their hold on you.

“Stop moving around so much,” he hissed into your ear. “Or I’ll take you right here in front of everyone. Unless, that is what you want, darling.”

Fuck yes, it was what you wanted right in this moment.

“No,” you huffed, feeling shame and embarrassment at how much his words had affected you. You squeezed your thighs together, blaming it on the drug he had given you. Asshole.

“Then be a good girl and sit still.”

Fuck, that only turned you on more. What the fuck was wrong with you? You were seriously fucked in the head. No. It was that fucking drug he had put in your drink. It had to be. Your skin felt so hot now, the ache inside of you impossible to ignore. What the hell did he give you?

His hands went back to touching you all over and you bit down on your lip, trying to ignore the feeling. It's like he was doing it on purpose. You glanced up at him to see him smirking to himself as the male in front of him talked. Scratch that. He was absolutely doing it on purpose.

Another hand brushed against your thigh under the table and your eyes widened, looking up at Cassian. He gave you a wolfish grin before his attention went back to the male across from them. You looked back up at Rhysand but he didn’t give any indication that he knew what Cassian was doing.

Cassian’s hand traveled further up your thigh and you held back a groan as his calloused fingers brushed against your soft skin. You debated pushing his hand off of you but it felt so good to be touched right now. You glanced at him again but he was still paying attention to the other male, even as his hand began moving again.

Fuck, you should stop this. But gods, your skin sang at Cassian’s touch. You felt heat pooling in your stomach, your core pulsed in need.

No, stop. It was the fucking drug. You didn’t want this. Did you?

This time you did try to push away Cassian’s hand, but Rhysand grabbed your hand instead, stopping you. So he did know Cassian was touching you. Your nails bit into his skin.

Cassian’s fingers traveled higher and higher, your core tightening along with it. Fuck. Your skin was impossibly hot now. You bit your lip harder, drawing a bit of blood as his fingers brushed against your underwear, tracing the lining against the junction of your thigh. Your nails were still digging into Rhys’s hand and you let out a small whimper, unable to stop yourself.

“Darling,” Rhys purred. “We’re trying to have a conversation. Be a good girl and keep quiet.”

You could understand the double meaning behind his words. He looked down at you with a wicked glint in his eyes. He let go of your hand as Cassian’s fingers brushed against your underwear again and you realized he was giving you a choice now. Push Cassian’s hand away. Or not.

You should. You really fucking should. But gods, you were on fire. Blazing hot with the feeling of their hands all over you. You glanced around. You were out of sight from the rest of the club but that other male was still here talking to Rhys.

You needed their touch. Your skin was singing for it, electricity sparking at every touch of Cassian’s fingers. You were craving it now, feeling hot and flushed. The pressure inside of you wouldn’t let up. You chewed on your lip, your hand fisted on your thigh. That was apparently the sign both of them were waiting for.

Cassian pushed your underwear to the side quickly before his fingers stroked against your core. This time the moan slipped free from your lips and you arched in Rhysand’s arms. Your face turned hot as the conversation stopped again at the noise.

Rhysand leaned back down to whisper in your ear so the others couldn’t hear. “Keep yourself composed or there will be trouble. You wouldn’t want that, would you, darling?”

How the fuck were you supposed to stay composed? Was this your fucking punishment for calling the cops? Did he purposely give you a drug that would make you so fucking horny, you wouldn’t be able to resist their touches in the middle of a club? Be forced to keep quiet and sit still?

Cassian’s fingers circled around your clit and a spark of electricity roared through your body. You bit your lip harder but couldn’t stop from wiggling a bit on Rhysand’s lap. He held you tightly, pulling you higher up on his lap until you could feel his hard length beneath you. You held back a gasp at the feeling, at the proof that he was just as turned on by this as you were.

You took a peek at the stranger across the table to see his eyes trained on you, full of lust. So this is the distraction Rhysand wanted you to create. You should be more embarrassed, put a stop to this. But Cassian’s fingers circled around your clit again and all reasonable thought left your mind.

“Don’t look at her,” Azriel growled at the male.

The male swallowed audibly and forced his eyes back on Rhysand.

This was so fucked up. So, so fucked up.

Cassian’s fingers quickened and so did your breathing. You were nearly tearing apart your own lip now, swallowing your moans as he caressed you. Fuck you needed more. More and more and more. Heat was pooling in your stomach, between your legs where his fingers were.

It was Azriel who leaned in to whisper to you this time, his hand traveling up your shoulders to the back of your neck to hold you there. “Don’t you dare come without our permission, sweetheart.”

His deep voice caused your heart to jump in your chest. You wanted to give into Cassian’s touches. Wanted to unravel right there. But Rhysand was still talking to the male who looked like he was almost sweating with the effort of not looking at you.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as Cassian’s fingers continued their assault. Fuck, you could hardly breath. Sweet, hot pleasure was sweeping away every thought.

You were beginning to tremble as Cassian continued to rub his fingers around your clit. Rhysand held onto you tighter and tighter, his hard length pressing into you from behind.

The embarrassment of having them do this to you, especially in public and in front of a stranger should be overriding everything else. But the pleasure kept you locked in place. You licked your lips, tasting blood. You knew you had split it open with your own teeth, trying to keep your cries in.

Cassian’s fingers moved down, to circle around your entrance and you almost bucked in Rhysand’s lap if it wasn’t for his tight hold on you. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting them to see how his touch made them roll to the back of your head.

You whimpered as he slid in one finger, slowly pulling it back out and thrusting it back in. This time you did moan. It was too much, the feeling was too much to keep yourself quiet.

Rhysand grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “What did I tell you, little mouse?”

You opened your mouth but no words came out, not as Cassian pushed another finger into you. Another whimper escaped from your mouth and Rhysand’s eyes darkened. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“Answer me. Now.”

With Rhysand’s grip on your chin, Azriel still holding you by the back of the neck and Cassian sliding his fingers in and out, quickening his pace as you flushed red with pleasure, you almost unraveled right then and there.

“Y-you said to keep q-quiet.” Gods, it was torture getting those words out without a bunch of moans coming with them. Cassian was still thrusting his fingers in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit. Fuck. You were close now, that warm feeling spreading all the way down to your toes.

You were panting now. You wanted more. So much more. Fuck.

“And you disobeyed me,” Rhysand purred. He still held you by your chin, now forcing you to look at the male across the way who was staring at you with desire. “So this is your fault, little mouse. Don’t forget that.”

You were confused but Azriel stood as quick as lightning, pulling his dagger free and stabbing the man across from you in the neck. Rhysand wrapped a hand around your mouth before you could scream. The man gurgled before slumping over. Dead.

Your eyes went wide, tears building up.

Cassian yanked his fingers from you and you would’ve cried in protest if it wasn’t for the dead body across from you. He smirked at his brothers as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at the taste. “Gods, she tastes so good.”

“Are you pleased with yourself, little mouse?” Rhysand growled into your ear, keeping your face towards the dead man. “It's your fault he’s dead. Do you want to know why?”

You shook your head no, unable to talk with his other hand still wrapped around your mouth.

Rhysand continued anyway. “He’s dead because he got to hear your moans, your cries. And you know why that upsets me?”

You shook your head again as he turned your face back to him. You stared up into those devastating violet eyes. He let go of you finally.

“You are mine, little mouse,” he snarled. “No one should ever be able to hear those cries of pleasure except us. Just like no one should ever touch you again except us. Do you understand?”

Gods, this was your punishment for sleeping with that guy the other night. Had killing him not been enough of a message?

“He asked you a question, sweetheart,” Azriel growled, squeezing the back of your neck. “Answer him.”

“Y-yes. I understand,” you stuttered out. Azriel squeezed your neck again, a little harder this time. You yelped in pain before giving him what he wanted. “Yes I understand, sir.”

“Good,” Rhysand said with a pleased smile.

“But I—this wasn’t my fault! I didn’t want this. You drugged me! You made me want this.”

His smile stayed as he pulled that baggy out of his pocket and tossed it into your lap. You looked up at him in confusion. “You were never drugged, darling. Those are just crushed up mints. You’re just as sick as we are, aren’t you, little mouse?”

You grabbed the baggie with shaky hands, bringing it up to your nose to smell it, to see if he was telling you the truth. You sniffed and the scent of mint hit you. He really had never drugged you so…so all of that, all of the pleasure and want you felt, all of the desire, that had all been real.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were all grinning now and you knew it that moment that you were completely, utterly fucked.

༺♥༻

Tag list: @justdreamstars @minakay @f4iry-bell @godletmebeanf1wag @judig92 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @peaceandcrackers @glitterypirateduck @gorlillaglue25 @the-lake-is-calling @danikamariemain

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand #poly!batboys x reader #batboys x you #batboys x reader #cassian x azriel x rhysand x you #reverse harem

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almostgenerallyalways · 1 year

Text

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door.

2022

Jake UT [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

2012

You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

2022

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

2K notes · View notes

polakina · 3 months

Text

how they respond to suggestive texts

call of duty headcanons #6

hc masterlist // masterlist

on an absolute mission to get so much content out rn, my two days off have proved efficient ahaha

rating: explicit

baffled. was not expecting it at all

he thought he'd have an easy night in doing paperwork in his office until his phone pinged

half expected it to be laswell

damn near dropped his phone when he read the message from you

"i need you, john."

he wasn't used to this sort of advance

he was old school, preferred this sort of thing face to face, but didn't mind straying from his ways of normality

"you need me? well how could i say no to you?"

that was all it ever took, really

he'd always come find you, seeking out what you wanted from him

but it always ended the same way

he'd find you in his bedroom, rolled on your stomach facing the door, waiting for him to enter through it

"need something from me, love? you could have asked."

he could never gauge your texts, what emotion or tone was lurking behind your words

but that's what you liked most about it. the fact he always had to come and find out what you wanted

it could be a favour, it could be a simple question, or it could be this

he saw it in your eyes

"i did ask."

"not really though, hmm?"

he never felt the control of the situation he was used to feeling. not when you had him crawling to your room

"got you here though, didn't i?"

you always had the same smirk on your face when he came striding over to you by the side of the bed, meeting your lips in a kiss as he rolled you over, crawling on top of you

he liked receiving those messages after that

couldn't respond immediately

had no idea what to say back to you

he just stared at him phone for a few moments

"what are you doing right now? i can't sleep"

he never really responded to these sorts of messages, instead he took the physical action of just coming to you

you classed whatever was happening between you as a sort of casual convenience

a simple text had him coming to knock at your door within minutes

and after that, you went about your day until inevitably sending or receiving a similar message a few nights later

"can't sleep, hmm?" he'd ask, leaning against the door frame of your room on base. a smirk always painted his face, expecting the message at some point in the night. "perhaps i can keep you company."

he knew exactly what you needed

fucking you raw until you couldn't feel your legs anymore

your ass in the air, face pressed against the pillows, hands behind your back and held there with his own wrapped around your wrist

he pounded into you until your voice grew hoarse and your body gave out from under you

the sheets were soaked with your juices, your hair strewn over your face from his unrelenting thrusts, sweat slicking your skin

he didn't stop. not until you were limp under his touch

his free hand held your hip, steadying your body as his hips connected with your ass, slapping roughly against your skin and pulling obscene noises from his throat

"fucking hell, love. i should have come here sooner. would have had more time with you."

wouldn't admit it, but loved it when you messaged for him to come to you

was usually waiting at his phone for it to ping with your name popping up on the screen

his heart gets all fluttery at stuff like this, not that he would admit it

a big grin on his face that he can't conceal

"come to bed, johnny."

you called him johnny when you missed him. when you needed him

he often worked late in the office, losing track of time

seeing those messages, it brought a soft smile to his face

"im busy, lass. i'll be a while. go to sleep without me."

he never really caught on the first time

nor did he ever really register the meaning behind any of your messages

"i'm not tired."

"then why do you want me to come to bed?"

he could be so fucking thick sometimes

it finally clicked in his head the second he pressed send

"one second, lass." was all you received as a hasty reply before footsteps came running up the stairs

he practically dove on you the second he came into the room

"here now"

you laughed as he kissed your face and neck

"too late now. you missed your chance," you always joked

he was always late to figure it out. and you always said he'd missed his chance

"hmm...well, sweetheart, we'll see if that answer changes when your clothes are on the floor, shall we?"

liked to make a game of it

your text had him wanting to lock himself in your bedroom and have his way with you, but he restrained himself for a short while first, having fun with it

he played along, wanting to pull a plead out of you before he even thought about coming to satisfy your needs

"i miss you. how long are you going to take?"

he usually stayed late, researching, or sometimes in the armoury detailing his weapons

more often than not, he lost track of time and by the time he was ready to go to bed, it was well past midnight

so your texts usually pulled him out of focus and back to reality

"an hour or so. why, what's up?"

he didn't need to ask. he knew what was up. he always did

"come on, gaz. don't make me say it."

"say it, love."

you hated when he dragged it out. but you loved it at the same time

"i need you."

he always smirked when you finally admitted you needed him. but he liked to play it out even longer, occasionally

he read the message but never replied

it frustrated you, but you carried on

"please, gaz."

that was all he waited for

in the short time it took for him to reach your bunk, you'd have thought he'd ran across the compound

you always found that he was just as needy as you. but he had more patience

his lips were on yours before you'd even managed to close the door behind him

his hands roaming your body, pushing you against the door, hiking you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist

he took you right there and then, pushing your shorts aside, not even bothering to undress you before pushing himself inside you slowly while you adjusted

"you weren't kidding when you said you needed me," he smiled, feeling how easy it was to slip into your wet cunt

he lost all patience for waiting once fully inside you, thrusting his hips against you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your thighs tighten around him, locking him in against your body until you both reached your high

"well next time," you smiled, "don't make me wait so long."

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rapz-rites · 11 months

Text

Oh Baby

Damian Wayne x Reader established relationship

Jon Kent x Reader (Platonic)

You’re not telling Damian something, and he thinks it’s that you're cheating

A/N: A lovely anon requested this. I hope you like it and feel free to send more requests or even message me.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: misunderstandings, pregnancy, secrets

You and Damian met sophomore year at Gotham Academy. You were in most of his classes. But he never truly paid any mind to you until your government class. It was a small class of 15 students.

Your government teacher was holding a class mock debate. 3 students would ask questions as there were 3 topics of discussion. The rest of the students would pair off into 2s and prepare on all the 3 topics as it would be random and no one would know which topic they might get.

“The three topics of debate will be abortion, racial discrimination, and immigration. And the 3 question leads will be Marcus, Catelyn, and Luca. Everyone else, pair up.”

Girls immediately started surrounding Damian and the boys with you. Damian saw how uncomfortable you were with the boys' awful advances at you. He continued to ignore the girls and walked to you.

“You can leave. I’m partnered with Y/N.”

Everyone was confused. Even the teacher. Damian never willingly chose to work with anyone. But you decided to take advantage of the opportunity before it went away.

“Yup. It’s true. So all can go now.” With that, you waved them off and Damian took a seat next to you.

Everyone else paired off and the teacher started talking. She explained the instructions for the debate and the rubric as it would be graded.

“There are 15 minutes left of class. You have this time to yourselves, use it wisely.”

You turned to Damian.

“When do you want to start working on the project? I'm available after school today to work in the library.”

“I can't today. I am tomorrow though. Let's exchange numbers.”

And that's how it started. The next day, you and Damian started going to the library after school and texted about the assignment. Even after the in class debate you two would talk.

Damian found you more tolerable than the rest of the kids at Gotham, and much smarter. He started hanging out with you more and more. In and out of school, obviously without his brothers knowing.

Eventually, he asked you out, you said yes, and both of you started dating. It’s been over 2 years since. You both have a lot into the relationship. You and Damian opened up to each other. He gave you his trust, which is difficult for him, and you gave him your virginity.

Though Damian wasn’t your first boyfriend or kiss, he was your first time. And you were happy about it. Even though it was a bit awkward, especially at the beginning, he made it special for you. He would ask if you were ok with something, how you felt, and he just took care of you. Something you never truly had with past boyfriends.

“Oh my gosh!”

You and Damian only had sex 2 times, both in the past 6 months. Damian took care of you after and you peed. You were both safe and used protection. That's why you couldn't understand the 3 positive pregnancy tests.

“No. It can't be.”

You suddenly started crying, collapsing on the bathroom floor of your one-bedroom apartment.

Since then you haven't been the same. After a few days of thinking, you decided that you would keep the baby. You lost your parents at 15, in an accident. They were wealthy. They had a mansion on the outskirts of Gotham, just like all the other socialites, and a condo near your school. In their passing your parents left everything in your name. You refused to go in the system. You were able to convince your old nanny to become your legal guardian, at least until you could get emancipated. You’ve always wanted a family anyways

You had to tell Damian. Your mind had been running through any possible reactions you'd get from Damian once you told him. Best case scenario he accepts it and decides to stay with you and be a father to the baby. Worst case, he leaves you and you have to raise the baby all by yourself.

Damian noticed your odd behavior. You were secretive, jittery and would always make excuses not to hang out with him.

“Sorry, I have a test coming up and need to study. I'll text you” you would say. But you never texted.

“I'm volunteering this afternoon. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you.” You kissed him goodbye on his cheek and walked away

You did the same to your friends. He didn't understand why. Did he do something wrong?

Keeping your pregnancy a secret was eating you alone. You had to tell someone. So you texted someone you could trust.

You: Hey. Are you busy? I really need someone right now.

Suddenly there was a gust of wind in your condo. Before you stood Jon Kent. Before you could even speak, that’s when he heard it. Not one, but 2 heart beats. Before you can even process him getting into your place, he hugs and spins you.

“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” He smiles from ear to ear. “Wait. I probably should be spinning you.”

Once he put you down he started looking around. Where’s Damian? How come he isn’t here telling me with you? That’s when you started to break down crying.

“He doesn’t know. And I don’t know how to tell him.” You say hiccupping. Jon just comforted you until you stopped crying. You explained everything to him.

“You have to tell him at some point. He probably thinks that you're avoiding him because he did something wrong. But I'm here for you.” You hugged him crying.

“Sorry, it's the hormones.”

For the next 2 weeks, Jon comes to visit you whenever he gets the chance. No one knew.

Clark and Bruce had to collaborate on some League business. So, he and Jon would be staying in Gotham for a few days.

Jon was heading out when he passed the kitchen

“Hey Jon” said Dick.

Damian was paying no mind to them. He was testing you, hoping he could see you today.

D💚: Hello Beloved

Beloved💜: Hiii Dami

D💚: Are you available today?

Beloved💜: I’m sorry I can’t 😕

I promised Layla we could hang out today

We can hang out tomorrow tho

Pinkie Promise 🤞

D💚: Okay 🤞

Have fun and be safe

Beloved💜: I will try

Won’t be much fun without you 😚

Once, at school you were texting Jon. You were stressing over telling Damian for the 4th time that day… It was only 11 am. And you were spamming him phone

Jon 🦸🏻: OMG

We’re both at school go learn or something

My parents are going on a date tonight so I’ll try to swing by

Y/N🤞🏾: ok ok

See you tonight

“Hey Beloved. Who were you texting?” Damian came up to you. You quickly closed messages and put your phone in your pocket.

“Hey Damian. It was Layla.” You responded hesitantly. “It’s nothing really but I have to go. I have to study before my test next period” You kissed him goodbye on his cheek and rushed off.

He knew you weren’t texting Layla, he just saw her a few moments ago when he was looking for you. She told him that you were probably at your locker. Before he went to look for you she told him to tell you that her phone died last period.

Why were you lying and hiding stuff from him? Damian didn’t want to think it, but were you cheating on him?

Damian looked up from his phone to notice Jon wasn’t there anymore.

“Where did Jon go?” Damian asked.

“He said he was going to meet up with ‘a friend’, but it’s obvious he’s meeting with a girl/boy the way he was nervous.” Dick responded

“We should follow him,” Jason spoke up. Damian didn’t know why he was here. Jason wasn’t too fond of staying at the manor. Usually, he would do whatever business he had, get food from Alfred then leave.

“Sure. Why not” said Tim. Damian forgot he was here. But they all agreed.

You hated lying to Damian. You decided that when you were going to see him tomorrow, you were going to tell him the truth, everything. You were meeting with Jon to get everything ready to tell Damian everything tomorrow.

Incoming Call: Jon 🦸🏻

You immediately picked up. You were sitting in a booth at yours and damian fav coffee shop. Damian thought that they had these great muffins that tasted even better the day after, so you were going to get him some.

You told Layla about your pregnancy after you told Jon. She was very upset with you. That you didn’t tell her first.

“I can’t believe it. I mean I can because between both of us, you would have kids and I would be the hot, rich aunt that they love.”

You laughed at her little rant on how your kid would call her “Auntie Lay” and she would bring gifts every time she saw them. How she would have a room for them to crash at her place for when they're a teen and they get mad at you, or they just want to spend time with their auntie.

“Thank you,” you said as you got up and hugged her “for being here for me. I don't know what I would do without you and Jon”

You were so glad that you had Jon and Layla.

Jon was walking up to the coffee shop when he saw your call.

“Hey Jon. Layla and I are at the shop, where are you?”

“I’m across the street I’m heading in now.”

Jon didn’t realize the boys were following him. They were confused as to why Jon was at this coffee shop. He had never been there before.

The boys watched Jon walk in and waited. Eventually, he would come out with whoever he's been secretly meeting up with for weeks.

Being the type they are, they didn't notice Layla coming out of the shop and getting into her car. She was waiting for you and Jon to go back to your place.

“He's coming out now,” Dick said excitedly. They all froze in anticipation. What they didn’t expect was to see you walking out after him.

Damian's heart was breaking. You were secretly meeting up with Jon and cheating on him behind his back. How could you? He kept watch in hopes he was wrong.

You walked out with a light brown paper bag in hand. You were struggling to seal it without dropping it. That’s when Jon took it from you and sealed it himself. They didn’t have audio but they had visuals. They could say thank you to him.

“Thank you my hero,” you said with a small giggle. Suddenly your face was serious.

“What if- What if even if Damian accepts this, he won’t regret it later? He won’t think we ruined his life?”

You started tearing up. From the angle the boys were at they couldn’t see your face. Jon hugged you.

“Shhh it’s going to be fine.”

“What if he thinks I’m trying to baby trap him and he'll end up hating me?”

You were about to cry when Jon took your face into his hands. You were like the sister he never had. He hated to see you cry.

“Listen to me. Damian could never hate you. He loves you.”

You nodded and hugged him again. That’s when Damian’s heart truly shattered.

“I can’t read lips that well but I saw something along the lines of ‘I love you’” Dick said. Damian took off is “disguise”, it was just a hat and sunglasses.

“So she's cheating on me?” Anyone could hear the pain in his voice, even Jon did.

Jon suddenly let go of you, and turned to look at Damian. He could see the pain written all over his face. Even though mind reading wasn’t a Kryptonian power, he knew what he was thinking: that you were cheating on him with him.

You were confused. You moved over to see what Jon was looking at. That's when you saw Damian with his brothers. Now he was looking at you.

“Oh no.”

Part 2

So… what do y’all think??? Please let me know.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian al ghul x reader #jon kent x reader #jon kent #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #robin damian #dc comics #dcau #batfam #batfam x reader

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najenvhs · 4 months

Note

how do you think jaemin would treat their partner?

WHERE DO I BEGIN (also perfect timing because these photos dropped and its all i can think about ㅠㅠ)

☆ na jaemin would be THE BEST partner ever i know it, i can count on it! [AHHHH] he’s just so thoughtful and caring and really thinks before he does.

i feel like if he saw you asleep on the couch he would most definitely make sure a blanket is over you and have a water on the table waiting for when you wake up.

he would have so many pet names for you princess/prince being his favorite one to call you of course.

i think while out shopping he would pay for all of your purchases and would not allow you to hold any of the bags. i feel like too that after each time he swipes his card he would look at you and kiss you on the cheeks because its what you deserve.

when you two are in bed together he pulls you into him, close to his warm chest (your favorite place for your head to rest) he runs his fingers through your hair as the two of you talk about whatever is on the both of your minds drifting off to sleep.

would be very cautious of your health, and making sure you take your probiotics and vitamins— making sure you are staying warm during the winter and hydrated during the summer

always letting you rest your head on his shoulder

always taking your side when you’ve had a bad day

picking you up from the train station after you get out of work because hates the idea of you walking anywhere alone. and if he cant make it he will make sure you face-time/call him during the walk.

you sit in his lap all the time even in-front of all the other members. instead of kissing or hugging this is how you guys show off to them.

would take you on trips, and on them you guys would go to coffee shops, museums, historic places. but he will have his camera out pointed at you (l feel like he would want to be one of those aesthetic couple influencers on instagram)

mdi

i feel like while having sex with him (and not to popular belief), he would take in every moment and be gentle to make sure you feel good too.

i kinda feel like if you tell him you are going out with your friends and he sees you dressed sexy he would fuck you right then and there before you are aloud to leave, not out of jealousy but just because of how good you look.

would love morning sex because it means he gets to see you with the sun rays hitting all the right places.

i also feel like he is so open to trying new things in bed that are either proposed by jaemin or you. (i know this is contradicting what i just said but i know he’s a freak in the sheets sometimes to spice things up)

AFTERCARE !!!!! is HIS THING! i feel like he would be so caring ask you if what he did just moments ago was good and if there is anything he need to change. getting you water but making sure you go to the restroom and take a shower (sometimes he will join, sometimes for a second round and sometimes just to make sure you don’t fall over) then tucking you in as you fall fast asleep.

— over all i think he would be such a WONDERFUL partner like i feel it in my bones every time i look at this man he would treat you so well. he just makes it easy to think this with all the bubble messages (almost every day) that nctzens receive saying “you did a good job today, sleep well and stay warm” YEAH also him putting money aside for a 401k and pension plan is so fucking hot 🤕 its the little things he does that makes it so easy for me to invision all of this.

sorry for this long post hopefully this answers the question

please feel free to leave something in my ask

#najenvhs—ask♡#nct dream #nct headcanons #nct smut #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #na jaemin #nct scenarios

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secondhand-snow · 3 months

Text

a body of impulses

chapter 2: feeling like unraveling

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★ chapter 1 ★ | ★chapter 3★

wc: 9.0k+

warnings: super dysfunctional family, fluff first then angst, roman roy as his own warning, season 3 finale as its own warning, mentions of manipulation, drinking, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (for real this time), dick pics, mention of phone sex, making out, dry humping/grinding, biting, pussyjobs, cum play/eating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: Lukas is amazing. He's tender, he's deviant, he's everything for you. But you're still worried, your family has never seen a beautiful thing that they haven't wanted to break.

author's note: chapter 2 is here, thank you for all the love on chapter 1! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it ♡ be warned that this is heavy on the plot of episodes 3.08 and 3.09, so if you haven't watched the full show you may get a bit lost. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You have a tendency to get anxious when things are good for too long. A few weeks without a family fight, a month without a scandal, half a year without Kendall relapsing; nice things usually end in flames in your family. They make you superstitious, always looking around the corner for something to jump out and fuck everything up. So, when Lukas is good, you get scared. You expect some kind of backhand. A threat of blackmail, a tweet exposing your promiscuity, a package of anthrax at your door.

It never comes.

He calls you every night, your timezone, not his. Listens to you talk about your day and doesn’t press when you can’t give him details on the company. He loves to send you pictures, just of him doing the most mundane things. Lukas on a Zoom meeting, Lukas working out, Lukas eating dinner. Together, you fall into something almost domestic. It’s still a secret. You don’t open his messages in public, stay far away from any conversations about him at work that could lead a blush to your face. But when has anything in your life been completely honest?

He’s been begging for a while now to fly you out to Sweden. You know it’s a risk you shouldn’t take at the moment, but you entertain him anyway. When you ask why he wants to see you so badly, he says he misses you. Then he says he wants to fuck you on his desk.

That almost convinces you, and you’re about to start packing when a roadblock emerges. Your dad asks you to come with him and your siblings to Italy, for Caroline’s wedding. You hadn’t been planning on going, she wasn’t your mom and you didn’t have much of a relationship with her. In fact, you actually thought she secretly hated you, something to do with how quickly Logan married your mom after their divorce. Regardless, you didn’t want to go to the wedding. But when Logan Roy calls, you come. Always.

So the bags were repacked and you found yourself on a different private jet with your siblings, once again at the mercy of your family.

“She’s probably in sexual thrall to him. He’s driving her wild with his sugar dick.” Siobhan spoke matter of factly, completely oblivious to how absurd her words sounded. Still, it wasn’t the strangest conversation of hers you’d walked in on. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

Roman was perched across the aisle from Tom and Shiv, sitting oddly in his seat, running his hand through his hair while he spoke. “All right, fine. Let him kill her for her emeralds and… screw us out of the fucking firm. See if I care.”

“Mommy issues?” You spoke up, setting your bag down on a free seat before moving to lean over the back of Shiv’s chair, kneeling on the seat behind it.

“Always. I didn’t know you were coming?” Rome turns to address you, eyebrows coming together in question.

“Dad drafted me. I think he just wants to terrorize Caroline with my presence.”

“I think you torment her enough by just existing. She doesn’t get to be the perfect mother of Logan Roy’s prodigal children.” Shiv pitched in, finally acknowledging your presence with a little smile.

“I don’t think I’m even invited to all the events. He’s just gonna have me working on the GoJo deal the whole time.”

“Oh! About the deal, I was talking to Karl and Frank-” Tom is addressing Roman more than you, but still gives you the courtesy of eye contact before your brother cuts him off.

“Yeah, no, you’re not really a part of that. Either of you, actually.” Rome nods his head to the couple, a smirk on his face charged by his current power trip.

“Well, I am.” Shiv interjects, annoyed.

“Well, I can’t fire you yet Shiv, because I’m still a little bit scared of you. But, my thinking is, when I take over, I’m gonna put you in the office next to mine and you’re gonna be my sexy secretary.” You just shake your head at Roman’s comment while he turns to head back to his seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Siobhan is more irritated than really upset, going back to her phone as Roman leaves the conversation.

“I dunno. We’re working on it.” He taps the back on his legs in a rhythm before sitting down. “Ongoing process.”

You address Tom, seeing the confusion in his eyes that people tend to get when talking to your brother. “We’re just working on outlining terms. Honestly, Gerri would be better to ask for specifics. I don’t know how much Dad wants me to say.”

Tom just nods in thanks, which you return with a small smile before heading to your seat. You’re across the aisle from Roman, who’s already curled up and ready to nap on the flight. Taking out your phone, you see a new message from Lukas, covertly labeled in your phone with just an “L.” You turn the screen away from your company, making sure to not catch the reflection in the window as you open his text.

Stockholm is a 4 hour flight to Italy.

Is it? I’ll be in the air for at least 10 hours.

10 hours without talking to you?

I think you can manage it.

I don’t know about Italy. I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m in the same country as you.

It’s a risk.

Will there be a reward?

…I’ll text you when we land.

He sends a picture of himself doing a kissing face. You send a heart emoji in response, hiding your face with your hand to conceal your smile.

It turns out that you were invited to a few events of Lady Caroline’s wedding. Not the ceremony, of course, but at least you were allowed to attend the receptions leading up to it. You weren’t going to be cooped up in a hotel room all weekend, signing documents and having Facetime sex with your not-boyfriend. In fact, you ended up at one of these events just a little after your arrival, a garden party full of snobby aristocrats and expensive champagne. It’s too hot out for your liking, you're already sweating in your semi-formal sundress and downing your second glass of cold bubbly.

You end up with Shiv, partially blocked from the sun by the shadow of her hat, quietly snickering at her and Tom’s jokes about a clueless cousin Greg. It’s surprisingly calm for one of your family gatherings, no shouting or challenging or worse. The tranquility snaps like a twig with a ding on your phones.

“Uh- Matsson…” Shiv speaks first, the two of you pulling out your phones simultaneously, her angling her screen to share it with Tom. A message from Karolina leads you to Matsson’s twitter page, and his latest tweet. It’s a goofy gif of his face with a Snapchat filter on it, the text reading ‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.” You’re half excited, half alarmed. You don’t really know if you should believe it at first but, against your better judgment, you hope it’s true. Hope he’s just an hour or two from you, the closest he’s been in weeks.

“What? Going to Macao? Feeling lucky?” Tom squints against the sun to see the Tweet before pulling out his own phone. “The fuck is that?”

“You get this thing from Karolina? It’s off the radar and now this? Is this- is it a move?” Gerri’s entrance is quick, followed closely behind by Roman. You open your mouth and close it again, not sure if your words will betray your duplicity.

“It, um, it could be…could be nothing, you know? Fucking social media fireworks!” Roman’s hand is threaded through his hair, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the light.

“‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.’” Gerri repeats the four words, she’s as flabbergasted as everyone in this little Waystar circle. Business has once again interfered with pleasure. “Is he trying to boost his price?”

“Is he just rocking the boat?” Shiv’s voice is unsure, wavering from her usual monotone state. “Or trying to blow up the deal? I mean, has he got good subscriber numbers coming in?”

“Maybe he’s just going to Macao and he’s feeling lucky.” Tom chimes in as Rome steps away from the group, phone pressed to his ear in a call you can’t fully hear.

“I mean, yeah… It’s not out of his archetype to post something like this.” You shrug, not sure what to contribute that hasn’t already been said.

Roman finishes his call, turning back to you to speak. “I don’t know, it’s like, his thing. He’s a- a trickster.”

“Okay. Well, sounds cool. Is he gonna, like, steal our watches and fucking saw the deal in half?” Shiv’s getting upset, you know she likes control and she’s too far removed from this deal to do anything about Matsson’s stunts.

“Maybe!”

“You’re supposed to be inside this Rome!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Mattson’s not stupid, he wouldn’t deliberty fuck this deal and announce it to the world on Twitter.” You’re trying to reason with your siblings, though it’s not really working. Roman mostly ignores you, Siobhan rolls her eyes. Atleast Gerri and Tom look somewhat appreciative for your input.

“I am inside, Leave it.”

You’re done with the dialogue, done with being the peacemaker and getting stepped over by your narcissistic siblings. You throw your hands up, phone held in one and the other in a flat palm to signify your retreat before you walk away from the cluster. You hear Greg say something behind you but don’t bother to answer him, instead moving to find a quiet place far away from your siblings.

You end up in a corner somewhere, mostly blocked by trees and bushes, a little cubby hole you hoped was private enough to not be listened in on. Your fingers nimbly click through the apps on your phone, pausing briefly before pressing the call button on Lukas’s contact. It rings once, twice. Then, an answer.

“When are you coming over? Should I send you a helicopter?”

“Macao?” Your voice is higher than normal, laced in shock and thrill.

“Closer than we’ve been in weeks.” The smile is apparent in his voice, he’s pleased with himself, you hate it. And love it.

“You’re fucking insane. I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll send my jet over.”

“Oh my God, I still cannot believe you. I can’t- my family is on high alert after your little rogue Tweet.” You laugh, not really mad at him, just eager and amazed.

“Oh come on, that was nothing.”

“It was a play to keep them on guard and you know it.”

“Well, partially. It’s for the numbers too. And for your attention.”

“It’s so hard to be away from you when you do shit like this…”

“Oh yeah? You miss me?” It’s a taunt, he knows the truth even if you deny it. So, you’re honest.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm… I miss you too. Keep thinking about what I’ll do when I see you again.”

“Lukas… I’m in public…” You can’t help but glance around, be sure you’re alone when he starts talking like this. His plan is already so clear to you.

“So you don’t want me to tell you about all the ways I’ll fuck you?”

“... Don’t do this to me now.”

“It’ll be just us in this house. I’ll take you wherever I want to. You can scream as loud as you want, don’t have to be worried about someone hearing.” His voice drops, there’s a small rustling on the phone. His words shoot straight to your core, a sensation beginning to form there.

“I’m at a fucking wedding party and you’re getting me turned on. You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You pause a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before responding.

“I’ll call you tonight. Please be careful.”

He chuckles.“I will.”

When you hang up, your text thread with Lukas is immediately graced with a photo of his dick, hard and gripped tightly in his fist. It makes you inhale sharply, curse under your breath at the growing need between your thighs. You text him back, simply writing “Fuck you.” before clicking your phone off. It takes you a few minutes of breathing exercises, but you’re able to calm your desire and soothe the blush in your cheeks before returning to the party.

Nobody asks where you went, nobody even really cared that you were gone. You can blame it on Connor’s show of making a proposal, or Matsson’s antics occupying everyone’s minds, but this is how it always is with you. The good child. The innocent daughter. Forever right where she needs to be, never in anyone’s way, constantly willing to help. You disappear when you aren’t wanted, you emerge only when you’re useful. The perfect loyalist, somehow being turned to a deserter.

Lukas leaves Monaco before you can sneak away to see him. You know it’s for the better, but it’s still a disappointment. You resign to finish the family trip and visit Sweden as soon as you get home to New York, going along with the planned events, a false smile plastered on your face. It’s during Caroline’s bachelorette in Cortona when your plans change. You were nursing a glass of wine, silencing your discontent at the rooftop bar when Gerri approached you.

She dragged you around to speak with Roman, revealing that your Dad had once again put you on babysitting duty. Logan wanted Rome to go talk to Mattson at his house in Switzerland, and wanted you to keep him in line. He couldn’t trust Roman to not fuck the deal, but he didn’t want you to speak to Mattson alone. So, you were recruited to accompany Rome. Speak just enough to stop him from saying something stupid, but not enough to draw attention. It was a game you were good at, one you had been practicing since youth. You were loyal to a fault, and Logan always used it to his advantage.

Lukas is ecstatic when you tell him you’re coming. Less so when he learns Roman is accompanying you, but still thrilled. You ask him for discretion, first nicely and then sternly. You can’t afford to make your relationship, whatever it is, public. He knows this too, knows what your family would do if they found out, but can’t help teasing. It’s only a day after Logan’s request that you board a helicopter, headed to Lake Maggiore. Headed to Lukas.

Roman is oddly quiet on the flight, constantly on his phone or looking out the window, eyes blank. You know him well enough to see the anxiety clouding his mind, feel the nervous energy radiating off his body. You reach over to him and hold his hand. He looks annoyed. He doesn’t drop it. You squeeze his fingers gently, he returns the motion, lets you quietly comfort him until you land.

Lake Maggiore is beautiful, surrounded by the Alps and lush vegetation, villas and lake homes dotting the shores of the water. You move straight from the helicopter to a boat, which immediately takes off at high speeds, skating over the surface of the lake. The wind fucks up your hair, blows up the skirt of your sundress, almost makes you loose your sunglasses. When you finally dock, you quickly pull out your phone, using it as a mirror to fix your smudged makeup and windswept hair before your host arrives. Roman gives you a weird look, silently judging you for putting effort into your appearance. As if he doesn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning styling his hair to look perfectly imperfect.

When Lukas’s frame finally emerges from the hedges of his property, you have to bite your lower lip to hide your smile. He’s so himself, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, not bothering with real shoes, just a pair of casual slip-ons. It almost hurts to see him and not be able to immediately kiss him. Jesus, your inner monologue sounds like something from a cheesy rom-com. You feel so love-struck, it makes you crinkle your nose in embarrassment.

The boat is tied up to the dock now, Roman perched on the side trying to make it onto solid land. The waves rock the vehicle back and forth, knocking him off balance and ruining his attempt at disembarking.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lukas has one hand in his pocket, the other reached out to Rome, close enough for him to grab. If he wanted to. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Piss off.” Roman swats his hand away, finally moving off the boat with a small jump. You move, taking his place on the edge of the boat. It’s a bit unsteady, but you manage getting on to the dock in just a few seconds. You shoot a smug smile at Roman before following the two of them up some steps, away from the water and onto Lukas’s yard.

“It’s nice to see you again, man.” Roman speaks first, breaking the silence that had fallen over you three.

“Yeah, yeah. Long time.” Lukas has his usual posture, slightly hunched and lanky, with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“This is an amazing place!” Rome looks around, you continue to follow him and Lukas through the lawn, letting them lead you as you observe.

“Yeah...”

“No?”

“I don’t know, it kind of freaks me out, to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I got it, I wanted everything to be perfect.” You climb a few steps, the group arriving at an outdoor pool area, lined with shrubs and facing the lake. “Now I’m sleeping on a camping mat until I get a deep dive on the best mattress in the world. It’s great- it’s great. I’m just not feeling great. I mean… I’m fine… Well, but, not really.”

You frown at his words. You want to reach out, hold his hand, touch his back, do something to comfort him. But it would be too obvious, too impulsive. Instead you nod sympathetically, catching his gaze for a moment.

“Maybe let’s leave the little feeley-feelings out of it. Cause I’m gonna give you nothing. Nothing!” Roman’s half joking. He hates emotions, tries to diffuse bad ones with humor, even if it feels inappropriate.

“Roman.” Your tone is a warning, pushing your sunglasses back on your head to give him a glare before turning to Lukas. “I get it. You want the best, but you don’t realize how boring perfection is when you always have it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Success.. It doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s too easy. It’s fucking… anyone can do it. Analysis plus capital plus execution. But failure… that’s a secret.” Lukas is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world when he speaks. Sometimes he thinks you can see into his soul, you somehow know him better than anyone. He takes his sunglasses off, using the collar of his shirt to hold them. His blue eyes look directly into yours.“What are you worst at?”

“Well… I… am never telling you any of my weaknesses. Ever. Never, ever, ever.” Roman breaks into the conversation again, disrupts the eye contact between you two. “And I won’t let her tell you any either. Stuff a sock in her mouth, a ball gag or something.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know, I am smart.”

“Cause I ream people. Juice em like oranges. I get way too into people, and they disappoint me.” He looks at Roman when he says that, but you can’t help but take his words as a warning. Things moved fast between you and Lukas, you’ve barely known him for a few weeks and were already opening your heart to him. Letting him into your mind, letting him rearrange the furniture there like he owns it. “Hey, I’m thinking of doing like a- quarterly up and outs at the company.”

“Oh, yeah. Firing people is like, 85% of why I get up in the morning.” Roman shrugs when he talks, moving to take his sunglasses off and hold them in his hand. “But, uh.. I do want to ask you about that tweet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh the…” Lukas laughs, looks at you, back to Roman. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue to mimic the Snapchat filter on his tweet. “That one.”

“Yeah. Seriously, yes. You got like, big shit coming your way?” Rome uses his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“...Are you- are you asking me for material nonpublic information?” Lukas’s grin is lopsided, he’s testing the two of you, seeing how far you’re really going to go.

“Maybe. Were you trying to get your share price up by tweeting unverifiable information outside of normal disclosure channels?” You cut in, raising your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in a way a little too close to flirting. Roman smiles at that, watches you exercise your knowledge like a proud father.

Lukas’s voice is mocking, a fake sad cartoon tone coming over it. “No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He moves his hands to his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears. “So mean.”

“Do you want this deal? Are you into it… like, at all?” Roman asks next. You’ve moved a bit from your area at the pool, following Matsson as he slowly circles the water.

“Yeah, I am. I’m just a little Swedish, you know? I’m.. into equality.” He moves nonchalantly, like this deal isn’t as serious as it is. “I like getting into bed with people, but I also like to share it equally.”

“More of a merge than a takeover.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t directed at Lukas. You turn to Roman as you say it, verbalizing what you both were thinking. Lukas just hums, doesn’t articulate a response. Even though you all know what it would be.

“Okay. We’re just… heading to Milan to lock things down with our Dad and the bankers. And the tweet- it just didn’t feel great. If you’re hoping to blow this whole thing up, just tell me, okay?” Roman’s anxiety is back, you can see it in the tense way he’s started to move, in the higher tone of his voice.

“I just want to get myself the best. Of everything.” Lukas looks at you when he says it, darts his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Roman’s too lost in his own head to notice it, or notice the way your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I fucking get that. Definlety.” Roman moves to pull out his phone, cursing under his breath when he reads a notification. “I uh- have to take a call really quickly. I’ll be in the boat, it shouldn’t take too long. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a tour.” Lukas shrugs, sounding indifferent. Rome nods at him, then you, and quickly takes off towards the dock, already lifting the phone up to his ear as he walks.

You watch him leave, round the corner and leave your line of vision before turning to Lukas, face neutral save for a hint of a smile. He’s less composed than you, smiling broadly and staring into your eyes. He walks closer to you, wraps his arm around the small of your back.

“Wanna show me around?” You raise your eyebrows in question, slightly rocking back and forth on your feet. He sighs quietly, nods, and moves to extend an arm for you to hold.

“There’s really not much to see. Your average rich person house.” You hold his arm, walking with him into the villa as he speaks.

The interior is nice. Well, you’re sure it cost several million dollars to furnish, but that was the standard you were used to. It’s Italian inspired with a few modern elements. You take note of the high end appliances everywhere you go. A thousand dollar air purifier, a ten thousand dollar toilet, a hundred thousand dollar refrigerator. Lukas really did want the best for himself. The downstairs looks strangely perfect, like there wasn’t really anyone living there. Everything is clean and immaculate, no traces of human life. This trend continues into the upstairs, only stopping when he shows you the primary bedroom. His bedroom.

It’s simply decorated, a bed, desk, dresser. A large TV mounted on the wall across from his bed, nightstands, some artwork on the walls. There are a few large windows on the farthest side of the room, offering a view to the lake. Most things are black, or gray, with a few navy blue accents here and there. You had slipped off your shoes when walking around the house, now you let the fall to the floor from dangling on your finger. Stepping into the room, you walk until you round the bed, seeing a camping sleep matt rolled up and leaning on a wall. The sight brings a little smile to your face before you turn to Lukas’s desk, fingers grazing softly against the wood of it.

He has a Macbook laying on it, a pair of over-ear headphones sitting next to it. There’s a cup with a few pencils and pens, a box of tissues. It’s not much, but it’s something. Above his desk sit a few wall mounted bookshelves, made of the same wood. The books on them are mostly motivational, shit that he definitely hasn’t read. One thing does catch your eye though, an older coding textbook written in Swedish. It looks worn, the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled. Your fingers move to trace along the row of books, following them until the shelf ends and you meet the wall behind it.

“I like it. Very you.” You move your gaze back to Lukas, who’s been leaning in the doorway, watching you explore.

“Very me?”

“It’s exactly what I pictured.” You walk up to him as he steps inside, right at the foot of the bed, just a few inches apart. “Have you really been sleeping on a mat on the floor?”

“Yeah…” You wrap your hands around the back of his neck as his sentence trails off and he moves to grab your hips, closing the distance between you.

“Lukas, just sleep on the mattress. Your back is gonna get all fucked up.”

“Probably. I just- I don’t trust it. I want something I know is good, you know?” His reasoning makes you roll your eyes.

“It’s better than a camping mat.”

“Hey- that’s the best camping mat money can buy.”

Your hand moves to cup his face, bringing him to you and planting a light kiss on his mouth. He tries to deepen it, follows your face when you pull away, looks like a sad puppy when you deny him.

“So you haven’t used the mattress at all…?” You smirk, quirking your eyebrows teasingly.

“Not yet…” Lukas grins, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips. “Why? Do you wanna help me break it in?”

You don’t answer, just smile, roll your eyes playfully, and move away from him. You turn so your back is facing the bed, and with all the drama you can muster, flop down onto the mattress. It cushions your fall nicely, though you do get left a bit breathless and giggly. Your knees dangle off the side of the bed, feet almost grazing the ground as you kick your legs.

“It’s really not bad.” You don’t bother raising your head, just direct your words to him knowing he’ll hear. “Not the best, but definitely ‘trustworthy.’” Laughing when he sighs in response, you throw your arms up and stretch theatrically.

You feel a hand on your knee, spreading your thighs wider apart. He slots himself between your legs, moves his hand to your waist, and pulls you quickly to him. The bed is high enough that your hips meet each other roughly, a gasp escaping your mouth at the sudden pressure on your vulva. Lukas is already half hard, and making the most subtle movements to grind you perfectly against his cock.

“Lukas… Roman is just outside…” You’re already a bit breathless, still allowing him to rub against you as you speak. He leans close to you, tall frame bending at the waist to brush his lips against your ear, still keeping his hips flush to your as he moves.

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” He places a kiss to your jawline, starting a messy trail down your neck. Lukas pauses to nip the slope of your shoulder. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

He lifts his head, eyes staring straight into yours, and waits for your response. Your lips are already parted, breath coming quick and cheeks flushed with desire. The lust clouds your judgment, as it always seems to do with Lukas. Impulse takes over and, with a hand threaded into his hair, you pull his mouth to yours roughly.

It’s rushed and powerful. All teeth and tongue, no time for being gentle, no time for romantics. You bite his lip, he groans into your open mouth. Your legs move around his hips, keeping his body close as he ruts against your clothed core. His movements started soft and teasing, but now he’s fully thrusting against you, rough and wanting. It feels hard and hot, has your eyes shutting and your mouth whimpering. You love being close to him like this, hearing his panting in your ear, his lips on your throat, his chest pressed to yours. But it’s not quite enough.

“Fuck Lukas, I need more.” He pulls his head from his attack on your throat, looks at you with a grin on his face.

“You need more?” You nod, a little frantically with a small hum. “Look at you, asking for things. Tell me what you want.”

You’re a bit hesitant, cheeks still red from the vulgarity of your situation. Your mouth opens and then closes again, biting your lower lip as you try to find the right words. His hand comes to your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your eye contact with him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I just want to feel you- really feel you.” Honestly, you don’t know exactly what you want. You’re so needy, you can feel how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten and just need some kind of satisfaction. “You can fuck me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, not yet. I have plans for that, it’ll be special.” His words are a little shocking, but turn you on even more.

“Please Lukas. I need you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, laced with want. The motion of his hips has stopped and you feel yourself desperately grind yourself against him for some relief. His hands move to your hips to hold you in place, releasing the grip on your chin.

“I’m not taking your virginity in a quickie where I can’t even get you naked. And you need to be able to walk after this.” He moves and pushes your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. “Here you’ll like this.”

Your panties are soaked. His gaze moves down and he notices, gives a small chuckle, runs a finger up your clothed slit. It makes you shudder and whine deeply in your throat as a response. Hooking a finger around both sides of your panties, he pulls the fabric off with one quick motion, dropping them to the floor when he’s finished. He moves from between your thighs briefly, causing you to instinctively shut your legs. Lukas pulls down his pants then, just enough to expose his cock, hard and leaking already.

He moves back, uses a hand to gently spread your legs as the other grips the base of his cock. He’s so close, his dick hovering just above your cunt. Your eyes go wide with anticipation, a light gasp escapes from your lips. Then, Lukas moves. His hips angle downwards and, using his hand to guide his cock, he gently rubs his length over your slit. The feeling is immediately intense. It’s wet and strong and burning, and when his tip touches your clit you swear your vision goes white. You really can’t help the moan that escapes you, it’s Lukas that caused it.

“Shhh… I know, I know. But you don’t want someone to hear.” He leans over you, presses a light kiss to your mouth and grabs one of your hands. Moving your hand over your mouth, he helps you press your palm to your lips, muffling the noises coming from your lips. You nod in response, keeping your hand there when he moves his away, gripping back on to your hips to hold you in place. “Don’t want everyone to know how I’m corrupting you.”

Another moan leaves your mouth at that, luckily much quieter due to your palm. Your free hand flys down, grips over his on your hip. He keeps moving, parting your lips and spreading wetness across your pussy, hitting your clit perfectly with each thrust. A curse leaves his throat when your back begins to arch, the white hot feeling in your cunt growing fast. You can almost feel the restraint leaving his body, feel the roll of his hips getting heavier, harsher. A tear rolls down your cheek, your eyes wet with the sheer strength of this new pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, so quiet for me.” Lukas’s accent is thicker now, his head tipping back in pleasure as he ruts against you with abandon, chasing his climax. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

That’s all it really takes for you to fall apart, cumming on his cock. Your orgasm hits in a wave, making your thighs shake and eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You’re incredibly glad for the hand on your mouth as it muffles the high moan that leaves your lips. You don’t see him with your eyes shut, but the groans you hear let you know that Lukas is not far behind you. A few mascara stained tears run from your eyes when you open them again, your gaze being met with Lukas’s head tilted toward the ceiling, his mouth open in pleasure.

His cock moves from your cunt, positioning over your lower stomach. His hand moves, jerking himself roughly as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand moves from your mouth, and you sit up a bit as you reach for him, fingers coming to rest on his hip to keep him close to you. Another low curse falls from his mouth, and with a gravely groan he cums. White ropes shoot across your stomach, resting on your skin warmly. You whimper in sympathy, watching as he twitches and bucks against his hand recklessly.

Lukas’s chest rises and falls quickly, breath coming fast and deep as his orgasm washes over him. When his eyes reopen, he’s quick to pull you up to meet his mouth with a burning kiss. The kiss isn’t long, but when you pull away he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut and breathing slowly returning to normal. You stay that way for a while, just close and quiet. A few moments pass, and when he moves to stand back up you take the time to dart your hand down and gather up some of the cum on your pelvis, licking it off your finger as you raise it to your mouth.

He quietly laughs, blissed out and smiley. “You love that, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I don’t know- ‘just makes me feel close to you.” He kisses you again, softly this time, almost proud.

“I’m making a monster. First you ask me to fuck you and now you’re swallowing my cum.” He moves to his dresser, retrieving a hand towel as you sit on the bed, careful to not let any of his spend drip onto the sheets.

“Why didn’t you fuck me?” Your head tilts as you ask. He moves to kneel in front of you, gently wiping the cum from your skin as he answers.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it special for your first time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even let you be my first time, now that you’ve rejected me.” It’s playful and he knows it, grinning up at you as he moves to wipe the wetness from the inside of your thighs.

“It wasn’t a rejection, it was a postponing.” Lukas stands, quickly cleaning off before tucking himself away and turning to look for your panties. “And who else would it be? Are you cheating on me?”

“No, but I can’t cheat on you if weren’t not together.” He pauses at that, head cocking as he makes eye contact with you.

“We aren’t together?”

“You haven’t asked me!”

“I thought it was self-evident. You don’t need to ask if it’s already obvious.” Lukas stoops to grab your panties from the floor, moving to hand them to you.

You accept the fabric in an outstretched hand, setting it on the bed next to you. “Well, I would like you to ask. Make it official.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, reaches out and grabs your hands to pull you to standing. Lukas holds your hands, smiles and looks into your eyes. “Will you date me?”

You think about teasing him, making him wait, but your excitement gets the best of you and you release your answer quickly. “Yes, I will date you, Lukas Matsson.”

Your kiss is domestic and cheesy, after you separate he pulls you back into his body, rests his chin on your head for a while while he holds you close. You end up leaving your panties with him, they're still too wet to wear comfortably. Lukas helps you fix your makeup and hair, and you check to make sure your lip gloss isn’t all over his mouth (it was). He fastens your shoes back on for you, kneeling in front of you so you don’t have to bend over with your still shaky legs. He holds your hand until you reach outside and you put some space between yourselves as you enter public once more.

Roman is just finishing his call when you get back to the boat, waving at you as he quickly hangs up. You give Lukas a handshake, Rome just shouts his goodbye from a distance, and you quickly speed off again across the lake as soon as you enter the boat. Once again separated, you swear you immediately feel heavier without Lukas’s presence.

Your brother thinks the deal is fucked, he makes that clear when you’re alone again. He half blames you, half blames himself. Either way, he’s scared shitless to tell your dad about Matsson’s merge idea. So it’s a major shock when you arrive in Milan and Logan is receptive to the proposal. He praises Roman openly for once, and even commends you on your role in negotiating the deal.

But good things don’t tend to stay good for long in your family. You know something’s wrong when Logan calls you and Shiv into his office abruptly, right before your meeting with the bankers is supposed to begin. It honestly doesn’t surprise you as much as some would think to learn Roman had been sexting Gerri. You try to defend him against Shiv’s attacks, but it doesn’t do much good, not when the evidence is sitting in front of you. At the very least, you make some kind of progress covering for Gerri, reminding your dad of her loyalty.

Things are weird and fucked the next day. The night before Comfrey had texted you to let you know that Kendall was in the hospital. She wouldn’t say what happened, just that they were keeping him overnight and he was okay. You texted your siblings but everyone was skirting around the answer with you. They knew you cared about Kendall, maybe too much, and that telling you he had nearly drowned (possibly by his own doing) would set you off like a firework.

You wanted to go visit Kendall the next day, or be there when he arrived at the villa, or just do something to help him out. But he didn’t answer your calls and all the information you were given was extremely vague. You weren’t invited to Caroline’s wedding ceremony, so you planned on staying in bed and Facetiming with Lukas all day, waiting for a response from your brother. Your day starts off that way, sleeping in and chatting with your boyfriend into the late morning, but then Lukas tells you about Gojo’s market cap. You knew he was good, you knew he was doing all he could to get the market in Gojo’s favor, but you never expected it’s worth would surpass Waystar’s.

It’s no surprise that your dad ends up calling you, recruiting you to join him on a trip to Matsson’s. When he tells you he’s considering not inviting Roman, you manage to convince him to bring him too, citing his friendship with Matsson as a cause. So you head to Lake Maggiore, again, and arrive at Lukas Matsson’s villa, again. The excitement you feel when seeing him is shrouded in the anxiety of the sudden meeting.

You feel like every glance between the two of you is obvious. The way he parts his lips, the way your eyes drift across his frame, it’s all unmistakable of two lovers.

Lukas leads the three of you to an outdoor area on his grounds and when the conversation starts, his intent is clear. He didn’t tell you he wanted to buy Waystar, well he may have hinted at it, but it still feels like a bit of a betrayal. Like a shock. Even worse of a shock, Logan doesn’t immediately hate it, not in his usual way.

“Yeah. This is not happening.” The rage isn’t there behind Logan’s words. His gaze drifts to Roman, then back to Matsson. Lukas raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, I see that. Understood. But, you want to stick around? See if the old deal still has shape? Side snacks?” Logan smiles, he actually smiles, at Matsson’s offer. “You have that Israeli AI operation I might like. Maybe an asset swap sort of thing?”

“Why not.” The eye contact between Lukas and your dad is never ending. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. “Rome, you should head back. For your mom, and everything.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Roman looks to you, motions with his thumb in the general direction of the dock. “Do you wanna…?”

“I’m not going to the wedding. Not invited.” You offer a small smile, look to Logan for reassurance.

“We’ll catch up with you later, Romulus.”

Roman is dejected. An intruder, again. An outsider in the deal he’s worked so hard on, the deal he partially started. “Alright. Hate to miss the big nuptials! So… yeah. I’ll just go do that then…” He’s hesitant to go, pats you on the leg as he leaves, Dad on the shoulder.

They wait to start speaking again until well after he’s left, and when they do it’s straight to business. Your dad wants to sell. Lukas wants to buy. You’re the reluctant bridge between. Things move inside, to a formal dining room, and the real discussion begins. Numbers start to fly, calls get made, lawyers begin flying out. You end up doing more work than you meant to, arguing for both GoJo and Waystar. Trying desperately to keep all the men in your life happy. At the same time, you’re conflicted. You know your siblings will hate this deal, you know how badly they want to inherit the company, how hard they’ve worked for one of them to eventually be CEO.

But the thing is, you don’t hate the deal. You were never going to lead Waystar, never going to be more than the founder’s child. You’re the youngest Roy sibling, a woman, and from a different marriage than the others. There was no chance of you ever being number one, and you knew that from the day you were born. So why not sell the company? You don’t want to dedicate your entire life to this soul crushing work. At the same time, you care so much for your family, more than you do for yourself. This would wreck your siblings, they wanted Waystar more than they wanted life itself. Even if being family owned fucks you, it means the world to them.

When you finally leave Lukas’s, it’s well past the wedding ceremony, and it’s clear Dad doesn’t intend on joining the afterparty. The operation moves to Logan’s villa. The cavalry marches in, dressed in designer suits and holding briefcases stuffed with Macbooks. There’s dozens of people you’ve never even met swarming around a huge table. It doesn’t even feel real, like you’re watching a dream, or a nightmare, play out in front of you. You retire to your dads private office, curl up on a leather upholstered couch and just think. You know you should tell your siblings. Siobhan and Roman have been blowing up your phone for hours, you haven’t had the heart to answer. Your dad would kill you if you reached out. Ostracize you like Roman, or disown you like Kendall. Your brain feels like a whirlpool, your thoughts flying around enough to give you a headache. You turn to the only person you can think of.

“Hi.”

“...”

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s voice is genuinely worried, silence isn’t normal in the conversations between you two. You hear a rustling on the other line like he’s stood up.

“I don’t really know. I wish you were here.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I feel like a traitor.”

“Why?”

“My siblings… you know they will hate this deal.” You stress the word hate, voice a little bit breathless with anxiety.

“I do.” His voice is quiet, almost whispering as he speaks to you.

“They would rather die than sell Waystar. But I-” You sigh, swallow thickly. “I almost agree with Dad. I think this is a good move for us. Not just because I’m fucking the guy who’s buying the company.”

“Well then, why do you agree?”

“If we don’t sell, we’re gonna get swallowed whole. All we have is the content, not the platform to back it up, not new technology to keep us relevant.”

“That’s all true.” Lukas’s voice gets a little louder, his sentences trailing off a bit as he prompts you to keep talking.

“But even if we had that, even if we were doing better, we were more stable…”

“You still would want to sell?” He already knows what’s on your mind. Of course he does.

“I think so… I mean, I will never be CEO. Not if we’re family owned, not if we’re owned by GoJo, never. And I don’t want to spend my life in this company, especially if I’m not running it.” Your head tips back against the wall you’re leaning on. You’re hiding away in a bathroom, your voice echoing a bit as it bounces off the marble walls. “This work… it fucking destroys people.”

“It sounds like you already know what you think.”

“But Shiv and Roman and Kendall… They want the company so badly. They’ve been prepped to run it since they were kids. Even if they kill each other for CEO, at least one of them would get what they wanted.” You’re louder now, voice still stressed but frustration peaking through.

“You need to stop wasting your life making other people happy. You would do anything for your family, and they wouldn’t do shit for you.” Lukas’s tone isn’t angry or yelling, it’s stating a fact.

“That’s not true-”

“Is it? I see you go above and beyond for them every single day, and they never spare you a second glance.” Lukas’s voice is almost pleading when he speaks next. “Think about yourself, for once. Please.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes are brimmed with tears, your fingers coming up to brush them away quickly. “I will.”

There’s a small pause before he talks again. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you about buying Waystar?” You laugh, breathlessly, at the simpleness of his question after all you’ve just talked about.

“No, I’m not mad. I was shocked…but I think it’s worn off. You’re just doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I think you’re really smart actually. If I was in your position I’d do the same thing.” You move from your stance against the wall to look in the mirror, checking to fix any smudged mascara.

“That’s what I thought. I asked myself what you would do.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not. I did think about how it would affect you though.”

“Thank you for that.” It’s half sarcastic, but you know he really does care for you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you later today.”

“Okay. Come visit soon.” Lukas ends like he always does, asking for your presence.

“I’ll try.”

It takes you a minute to compose yourself. Fix your hair, wipe off some of your fucked up concealer, blow your nose. You exit the bathroom, walk down the hall and down some stairs, finally arriving in front of the massive wooden doors leading to your dad’s office. Your brain is finally quieter now, thoughts forming clearer and headache fading quickly. You slip a small smile to the bodyguard, Colin, who opens the door for you to enter.

Your three siblings are there, backs facing the door as they stare down Logan, who’s just moved to press a button on the phone resting against his desk. Their heads snap to you. The door shuts behind you. Siobhan opens her mouth, but you speak before she does.

“What’s going on? When did you get here?”

“What’s going on? You know what’s going on, Dad is selling and fucking our entire lives up.” Shiv faces you, her eyes are daggers and her body is a rocket about to explode. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“No, he’s not fucking your lives up. It’s not the end of the world, Shiv.” You approach them, eyes wide and pleading.

“So you do know. You knew he was selling the company and you didn’t think ‘Hmm maybe I should tell my siblings this, you know, since they’ve spent their entire lives thinking they were going to run Waystar!’” Roman throws his hands up, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are watering.

“Do you think it would’ve made a difference?” Your voice drops, both in tone and volume. “Do you really think I have any sort of control? Any say in what happens?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Kendall won’t make eye contact with you. Logan is watching you intently before gazing at his other children’s faces.

“I have never, and will never, be number one. I will never have control over the company, I will never even have control over one branch of the company. I will never be CEO, I won’t even make it to CFO, because I will always be lower than you. And I will always be there for you to yell at and use and manipulate. You already fucking do!” You’re more angry than sad now, maybe it’s misdirected, but you’re too wound up to care. “For once in my life, I’m thinking about myself. And I will not let this shit, this work, destroy me like it has destroyed you.”

A few tears spill from your eyes, you don’t bother to wipe them up, just continue your eye contact with your siblings. You’re right and everyone knows it, from Gerri and Karl sitting on the couch to Logan in front of you. Shiv can’t hold your gaze anymore, she drops her eyes to the ground. Roman turns to your Dad, his eyes are wide and desperate.

“Please?” His voice is meek, barely a whisper.

“‘Please?’ You bust in here with guns, but now that you find they’ve turned to fucking sausages, you want to say ‘please?’” Logan moves from where he was half-sitting on the arm of a couch to stand in front of your siblings. “You should have trusted me.”

“Dad, why?”

“Oh you need me to tell you why? Like your sister didn’t already? But your too fucking ashamed to admit she’s right.” He begins walking to the door, past your siblings, pausing at you to put a hand on your shoulder. “Because it works. I fucking win. Now go on, go on, fuck off you nosey fucking pedestrians.”

The doors open, Logan is immediately tasked with papers to sign and business to attend to. Roman moves to Jerri, asks her something you don’t quite hear from the blood rushing in your ears, before moving back to the crowd of your siblings. Roman crumples to the floor, Kendall with his hands on his shoulders, Shiv next to them. You turn to see Tom entering, him offering you a weak smile as he passes.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Kendall.” Your voice is monotone. Ken looks up at you, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Tom starts speaking to Shiv, but you don’t hear what he says, already turning to walk out the doors, to head back to your hotel suite, to head away from your family.

You stay on the phone with Lukas the rest of that night. You can’t sleep but you don’t want to be awake. He eases the pain. He says he’s proud of you. He cares more than anyone you’ve known.

When you finally fall asleep in the early morning hours, you dream of space. You’re a cosmonaut, dancing on Saturn’s rings, playing baseball with meteors. The darkness is liminal, and pure, and calm. And the constellations are breathing around you, lighting your lawless orbit. You break the trail of a comet, its fire dotting the sky like a stitch on black cloth. Venus is a stray dog, following you wherever you lead it, spinning for attention and praise. Stars flicker like faces, you can’t recognize who they are anymore.

When you touch the Earth, everything sings.

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #succession #succession fanfic #alexander skarsgard #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x oc #lukas matsson x ofc #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson fic #lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson imagine #snow’s fics #a body of impulses #smut

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 3 months

Text

In the Background - Chapter 4.5

Summary: You’ve been dating Natasha in secret since her early days in SHIELD, and you’ve been in the background of all her missions since.

Word Count: 5047

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: canon events (violence/death), occassional swearing.

A/N: I'll be focusing on a couple of other WIPs now this is done but then it's back to work on Chapter 5; feel free to send comments/questions about the series and I'll answer any I can 😌

Series Masterlist

Previous Part

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

If only the Avengers didn't cause so much destruction, your life would be so much easier. You'd been staring at the screen for hours now, tracing leads, conducting damage assessments, and handling the repair efforts as best you could, so when Natasha called and you answered within the first ring? You'll blame that on your dull work life, definitely not just your eagerness to speak with the assassin.

It was only after answering the call that you thought to check the time - 10pm, just as you would usually begin to wind down for the night. You smiled, for someone who lived such a turbulent life, Natasha managed to maintain a remarkable consistency; she always tried to call at that time, no matter where she was in the world, to keep you company with late night talks and to wish a goodnight.

As soon as she greeted you tonight though, you knew you were in for something different.

“Y/L/N.”

“Romanoff.” It was a warning, of course, a system you'd agreed upon to protect your secret if others were around. Sure enough, when her camera flicked on, you were greeted to the sight of the Avengers milling around her.

“We have company,” she told you somewhat redundantly, as you were shown the visitors sitting around the Barton family's kitchen table, with Nick Fury standing at the head of it all.

“Evening, Director,” you said.

“Did you know too?” Tony scoffed, “he’s got both of you?”

“Just Maria,” Fury corrected, “but why put in the effort to hide it from Y/L/N?”

“Does anyone actually know my first name?”

“No.”

“We’ve got a lead on Ultron.”

“You have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” the man scoffed, almost in disbelief that you'd asked such a question. “Hill’s helping me out, and I'm bringing Banner back too. As for you… Steve, Clint, and Natasha are off to Seoul. You wanna help your old team?” Fury smirked with an eyebrow raised; he knew your answer before you could give it, so you played into it by pausing and humming as if considering your options.

“I suppose I can help out,” you said at last, earning an eye roll from Natasha in the background, “I'm sure they really need me.”

Natasha came to the forefront of the image again and grabbed her phone back. “That's enough of that,” she said; you raised your eyebrows and smirked at her tone. You saw Clint react the same, though he tried to hide it.

“Go to bed, Y/N. We'll call in when we need you.” She hung up before you could comment on her use of your first name.

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

“We have to be careful. If Ultron is here, he's not gonna like that we're here too. So stay hidden, stay vigilant, and I'll be right back.”

The suit cams were deactivated for this mission – something about Ultron picking up on the transmission frequencies, you weren't sure; all you did know is that it made your job harder.

“Two minutes; stay close.” You assumed that they'd dropped Steve off.

Despite your statements the night before, you really weren't needed on the mission: Steve took mission lead, Natasha controlled tracking, and Clint flew the jet with no hesitations, all you were there for was backup, lest something go wrong.

Perhaps you thought too hard about that last point, jinxing the team with your belief that it would all run smoothly, but the plan collapsed almost instantly. Steve didn't direct his message to your group specifically, but looped you all into his conversation with Dr Cho.

Ultron knew they were there, he'd injured Cho, he had two superpowered twenty-somethings on his team, and he'd created a weapon beyond capabilities, something indestructible. Or, at least, he was in the process of making it; you still had a chance to stop its creation… silver linings.

“I've called for medical,” you said. That left Steve free to focus on the fight at hand, taking instruction from Natasha and Clint on where to find the metal man.

Clint, the eye in the sky, lived up to his codename by spotting it first: “There. It's a truck from the lab.” Steve clambered up and across the roads without hesitation, before a blast to the truck door almost blew him into moving traffic – at least it confirmed that Ultron could be found inside.

“Well, he's definitely unhappy. I'm going to try to keep him that way.”

“You're not a match for him, Cap.”

“Thanks, Barton.”

With Steve in the fray, you had to take command once again; your position away from the fight gave you the best overview with which to form a plan, and access to all angles of sight.

You only saw one way forward: “Natasha, you need to get into the fight. Steve can't get the cradle like this, so make the most of the distraction he's providing.

“Never thought I'd see you giving me orders.”

You didn't need cameras to picture the smirk on her face, you just knew it was there in the same way you knew that, despite her talk back, she would be following your instructions.

“A real role swap, I know,” you deadpanned, “now get on your bike.”

Was it essential for Natasha to ship her motorbike with her to every destination? No. Had you questioned her on it countless times? Yes. Did it occasionally come in useful? Unfortunately yes, but that was an answer that you would never admit to her face.

“We've got a window!” Clint took over, flying low to the ground so that Natasha could disembark, “Four, three…give ‘em hell.”

From then on, you could only do so much to keep track of all the agents, so Clint took charge of directions, watching from above to keep Natasha on the right track, while you monitored the truck's ever changing location. The roles eventually aligned as Natasha came up alongside the truck, throwing Steve's shield up to restore his upper hand in the fight.

Ultron could fight a battle on two fronts though; after being knocked down by Cap, he pulled a chunk of tarmac out of the road to keep Natasha away.

“Since when could he do that?” you asked into the comms.

Natasha was tenacious, a fact Ultron soon found out, and a clump of dirt didn't deter her. She neared the vehicle again, just for the enemy's robotic lackeys to fire at her this time.

“Clint, can you draw out the guards?” she suggested.

“Let's find out.”

Firing at the robotic man did just that, and soon the Quinjet weaved through the sky, trying to shake off various bodies on Ultron, which left Natasha free for her retrieval.

“Natasha, the Ultrons are on you now,” you warned. They hadn't seemed to see her in the truck, but latched onto the sides.

“Okay, the package is airborne,” came Clint's next comment, as the robots carried the truck away from reach. That didn't matter though, as Natasha was still inside and by the sounds of it, knew just what to do. You'd lost sight of them, so focused your attention on Steve's fight with the main Ultron body…or at least, as much as you could see.

The train cameras were non-operational and soon enough, the whole train was too.

“I lost him; he's headed your way,” Steve yelled. With the fight in the air, he couldn't follow, but he also had bigger problems: a runaway train, with the driver hit and the controls fried.

“The train's at the end of the line, I can't stop it from here.”

“Nat!”

“There are no controls; I need to get civilians out of the way.”

“Cap, you seen Nat?”

“If you have the package, get it to Stark! Go!” Steve said, momentarily distracted as he answered Clint's request.

“Clint, what's happened to Nat?” you shouted, quickly leaving Steve to his own problem – this was a higher priority to you.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?”

“Go!”

You scan everything you can get your hands on, desperate for a sight of your girlfriend; but they had been too high up, too far to be covered in any camera footage. She may as well have disappeared.

“Clint,” you said urgently, cutting Steve out of the communications for the moment, “what happened to Natasha?”

“Ultron got her. I don't know, she was with the cradle and then he flew past and she's not there.”

“She didn't fall, so he's got her.”

“I can't look for her here.”

“I know. Just get back.”

“I'm sorry. We'll find her, Y/N”

“We better. And I don't care if he's vibranium, I'm gonna kill Ultron with my own two hands next time we see him.”

The train sat stationary and steaming by the time your focus returned to it. Steve stood out among the crowd, and you realised he had the Maximoff twins by his side.

“The press will be on the scene any minute. I've sent ambulances and Damage Control. Steve, Stark has a jet at Incheon, get there and get back ASAP,” you mumbled the instructions to him then hung up, once again leaving him to fend for himself.

You threw your headset down with a scream, and stormed to where the other Avengers had settled.

Anger rarely got the best of you after missions were over, but that's because even after the worst incidents, Natasha would be there to keep you sane, and talk it through. Now she was gone, and you had no leads to getting her back.

“Where's Fury?” you demanded, seeing only Bruce and Tony in the room.

“Off on his own little mission, he picked Maria up and left. Do you know what it is? Because that man is always-”

“Natasha is missing.” You don't care that you interrupted Tony, and you don't care that there's probably better ways to break the news. Ultron had killed and hurt and targeted people the Avengers were close to; finding Natasha was urgent.

Bruce broke out of the stupor first. “What?”

“Natasha is missing. And if anyone could find her, it would be Fury, but since he's missing-”

“I'll set up nets, have one of my AIs tracking the internet for any signs of her. If she's out there, we'll find her.”

You nodded, and relaxed your body temporarily when you realised how stressed you looked. “I'm gonna keep looking,” you mumbled, “Clint's on his way back with the body Ultron was building – find a way to dismantle it safely when he arrives.”

Neither man spoke as you vacated the room and headed to the floor below. After SHIELD fell, the room has been converted into storage for some of their old tech, ranging from their founding in the 40s up until the internet age took prominence. There was nothing you could find on the internet that Stark's tech couldn't do faster, so you resorted to old fashioned methods: radio waves, faint signals, and contacting agents across the globe. One way or another, Natasha would be found.

Ultron was different to any enemy you'd faced before, he had no fixed body, he couldn't die, and he had more knowledge than even an espionage agent ever could. But his sentience, the humanity he tried to destroy… you noticed that, and that would be his downfall; Ultron theoretically could have been unstoppable, but he was a show-off, he craved attention, and because of that, he didn't always make the most logical moves. He hadn't dismantled JARVIS, he'd made a mess of the system and bragged about it; he'd killed Strucker and sent a message, even if that was the clue to finding him. If he'd killed Natasha, or hurt her in any way, he'd be boasting of it for attention – so you knew she was alive, and that hope kept you searching. The best spy alive was still alive, and she'd find a way to send you a signal.

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

“I've never seen Y/N as stressed as this, nor you.”

You'd seen Clint's return and gone upstairs to greet him; you knew he would be as stressed as you in the situation. But when the conversation you found was focused on you and Natasha, you felt the sudden urge to hide and listen in.

“Y/N and Nat were recruited at the same time, to the same cohort. They’ve been friends for 7 years, longer than I've even been working with Natasha, so what can you expect? Natasha's been through a lot; a lot of injuries, scares, and dangerous missions, but nothing like this. We've always had tabs on her.”

“Guess now you know how Widow felt about you back in 2012.”

“Not the time Tony.”

“Anything on Nat?” Bruce asked Tony, having the sense to change the conversation somewhat.

“I haven't heard, but she's alive or else Ultron would be rubbing our faces in it.”

Clint then changed the topic completely, returning attention to the cradle he'd brought in.

“We're going to need to access the program, break it down from within.”

“Any chance Natasha might leave you a message, outside the internet? Old-school spy stuff?”

You thought Tony was just trying to make Clint feel useful while he and Bruce worked, and you appreciated his efforts. It also meant you had to rush back downstairs and continue to fiddle around as if you hadn't just been eavesdropping.

The archer hurried down the stairs. You saw him pause at the sight of you, before he approached more slowly.

“I am sorry, I know it's not your fault,” you began, though you didn't dare look up at him, “are you doing okay? She's your best friend too.”

“She was right there. Maybe I could've…”

“Neither of us could have done anything. She was falling through the air; that's not territory we can help in.”

“We'll find her though,” Clint repeated. You knew it was to convince himself. You nodded, then returned to your work – this time with an old friend by your side.

Minutes later, static buzzed through the radio, with vibrations echoing on the screen. You looked at each other, open mouthed, then hurried to take notes.

“Morse?”

Clint nodded, then smirked as he held the headset to his ear. He listened and typed quickly, pulling up a satellite image of a Sokovian castle.

“Coordinates. God she's smart. Come on, let's go tell them.”

Clint called to you, but your attention had diverted. You caught his eye then looked back up at the glass ceiling, pointing overhead to where one of the Maximoff twins stood, an unplugged cord in his hand.

Clint growled and grabbed his gun to shoot up and shatter the glass on which Pietro stood, causing the twin to come clattering down. The spy wasted no time in pinning him down. “What? You didn't see that coming?”

The broken glass made the blasts, punches, and threats from above even more audible. You pulled Pietro to his feet but held him back, nodding for Clint to leave the two of you and try to break it up.

You watched the scene unfold and get more and more aggressive. Pietro struggled in your hold when he saw Bruce grab his sister, and you were tempted to let him loose until she freed herself and sent the scientist flying backwards. Once the cradle was activated, and the red body of Ultron's creation flew out of it and into Thor, you saw no point holding the speedster back.

“Go check on your sister,” you muttered, and slowly ran after the blur into the common room.

The creation – the synthesoid – had calmed down by your arrival, and the team reached an uneasy truce to keep him, knowing there was no other hope to stop Ultron.

“Three minutes,” Steve eventually announced, “get what you need.”

You stood still for a moment. While the others dispersed to their lockers and equipment, you had no similar place to go – you weren't called in for last minute missions like the main Avengers were, so everything you needed, you kept in your room. You wouldn't have time for that on this mission, so you decided Natasha's locker would have to do.

“Come on,” you called to the twins who, like you, had been standing around without much direction. “Tony's undershirts might fit you,” you said to Pietro, sizing him up as you unlocked the cubicle, “and use Nat’s clothes if your sister needs.” The sister in question – Wanda – drifted behind the two of you; her focus not on you, but on the conversation happening between Thor and the synthesoid outside.

You grabbed the clothes and weapons you needed from Natasha’s locker, then left the twins to it.

“Ultron knows we're coming,” Steve told the team on the jet, forming the plan before you get there, “odds are, we'll be riding into heavy fire. And that's what we signed up for, but the people of Sokovia, they didn't. So our priority is getting them out. All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that's not going to happen today, but we can do our best to protect them, and we can get the job done.”

Tony would be the one to fight Ultron head on, Thor to investigate the robots plans, and Bruce to rescue Natasha. You tried to step in and volunteer yourself, but Clint held you back, subtly shaking his head.

“Bruce can get her out,” he whispered to you, “you'll do a better job getting civilians out than him, and it'll keep your secret a secret.”

You grumbled, but agreed, and eventually conceded to his case. So when the jet landed and Thor and Bruce headed toward the fortress the Avengers had fought so hard to infiltrate just a week before, you turned and ran the other way, into the main city of Novi Grad.

No work you did could be as effective as the twins; the pair evacuated buildings in mere minutes and knew their hometown well enough to know exactly which places to target. Meanwhile, you hurried the streets with Clint, helping anyone struggling with the evacuation process.

Almost everyone had vacated their homes, most on their way to Sokovia’s neighbouring villages, when Ultron's plan truly started. The ground rumbled, and the streets and buildings soon began to ascent into the sky. Orderly evacuation descended into chaos as civilians clamoured to jump down to solid ground while they still could – a window that only lasted seconds before the remaining civilians, and all the Avengers, became stranded on the floating rock.

“Bruce, did you find Natasha?” you heard Clint shout. Steve and Tony debated their changing plans in your ear, so if Bruce ever gave a reply, you didn't hear it.

Regardless, your attention couldn't linger on it for long, as a floating island wasn't enough for Ultron, he had to send hundreds of his identical lackeys into the fray as well.

“The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off.”

A mission was a mission, and you took to it well – even if you couldn't get the civilians to safety, you could protect them where they were. They began to congregate, and you moved with them, shooting, stabbing, and kicking the decoys whenever they got near, while herding the civilians towards shelter. It wasn't the most effective, but you were no superhero.

That remained your role, even as a certain redhead on the field caught your attention.

“Natasha!” you yelled.

She looked over and grinned when she saw you – a smile that was soon wiped off her face when an Ultron rocketed into you. You tussled with it, but it was Natasha who eventually pulled it off of you, shooting it in the head before you decapitated it for good measure.

She smiled again, then offered a hand to pull you to your feet.

“Why weren't you answering your comms, hmm? I was worried about you! I didn't know if Bruce got you out okay!”

“Oh, I don't know, baby, maybe because a psychotic robot took me captive and took away my means of communication?”

“Not those ones, Bruce's spare set! He was meant to give them to you.”

A robot came to end your reunion, but Natasha had it dead in seconds. “He didn't, but I pushed him into the crater so I can't really blame him-”

“You did what? Natasha you know you can't be doing that.”

“He wanted to run and I needed to get to you,” she smirked, with all the confidence of someone who knew they'd gotten away with it. “What else is a girl supposed to do?”

You sighed, then took her hand. “Just put this in. I had a spare set too.”

“We are not clear! We are very not clear!” Steve's voice echoed as she put it in, proving that it did in fact work.

“Now go be a hero,” you nodded, “I've got this.”

She squeezed your hand tightly before she ran to what used to be the bridge, where Steve and Thor had set up their operations.

You watched her go while completing your own job of keeping the civilians safe. The robots had dispersed, but you were still fighting a few when, minutes later, Nick Fury appeared on the comms.

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better.”

Even from where you stood in the city, the helicarrier dominated the skyline and filled you with hope.

“Let's load ‘em up,” Steve commanded, and you didn't have to be told twice.

You beckoned to the crowd of people you had been protecting, and the stragglers who slowly emerged from their own hiding places as the hope of safety, and led them towards the ship. Natasha was by your side again, allowing you to direct the civilians without taking on several robots alone at once.

Countless ferries to the helicarrier later, and streams of civilians still emerged from the maze of crumbling apartment blocks. Ultron wouldn't let the team have that one victory, and Thor soon warned the heroes about an incoming attack on the vibranium core – an attack which would decimate the Earth and its population.

“Rhodey, get the rest of the people on board that carrier. Avengers, time to work for a living.”

Natasha grabbed your wrist as you signalled for more civilians to board the ferries, “are you coming?”

“Someone needs to stay and help them here,” you said with a shake of your head, “and Rhodey is dealing with enough in the sky. This is your mission, my love, so go finish it.”

She leant in, seemingly before she realised you were still surrounded by people, after which she veered to the side and pulled you into a tight hug instead.

“I'll see you afterwards, okay? Come back to me this time.”

“I promise.”

Then, once again, you stood and watched as Natasha ran into the fight. Screams and yells from the people surrounding you soon snapped you back to the present and you jumped onto duty. You called out to the civilians in your limited Sokovian, directing them in huddles from the cover of the police station onto the ferries, until they were in the ex-SHIELD team's capable hands.

“They're trying to leave the city,” Thor noticed, and sure enough, several silver bodies flew overhead, aiming to escape the Avengers' assault.

“I'm on it,” came Rhodey’s response, as he left you alone with the Sokovian authorities to protect the civilians boarding the ships. The civilian numbers were dwindling, as most had boarded already, and only the last stragglers were still arriving. Zips of blue occasionally crossed your sight, as Pietro scoured the city for any last boarders and deposited them by your side.

He eventually slowed down enough to talk, just as Clint and Natasha raced into the Square – where they had time to find and hijack a car, you'd never know.

“That's everyone,” Pietro panted, anyone not on the boats is here.

You nodded, looking around the square again. “We're almost done loading, you can probably-” you began, but rapid gunfire turned both of your heads like a shot.

“Natasha!” you yelled. The artillery had been aimed directly at her and the Hulk. The creature roared at the jet, bullets bouncing off of his skin, while Natasha was nowhere to be seen. As you ran towards her, it was only when you got close that you saw her body on the ground.

The world blurred around you as your only goal was to sprint forward, but even that failed. The Hulk picked her up, her body cradled gently in his arms, then leapt.

You turned back; he had jumped towards the helicarrier, but another sight caught your eye. A few bodies lay strewn in the street, victims of Ultron's final push, but Steve and Clint knelt still beside one of them. You traipsed back, seeing no point in rushing when the day had already taken so much.

Agents and guards rushed off the boats, running all around you to collect the bodies of their friends and colleagues. You continued forward. Steve looked up and met your eye, and you finally noticed the limp body in his arms. Clint returned the child to his mother, and Steve brought the final body – Pietro's – on board. You sat with the Captain in silence as the boat began to ascend.

“He was supposed to get Wanda,” you said at last, the realisation hitting you that she was still in the floating city. “Has anyone got Wanda?”

There was no time for anyone to respond because, just as your ship docked, the whole city began to fall.

“Thor, on my mark,” Tony said, and you watched as the city began to crumble into pieces.

Steve put his hand on your shoulder, bearing a defeated look as he guided you into the main body of the helicarrier. Your mood was sour, but the sight that greeted you inside finally began to change it for the better.

“Natasha!” you breathed, running forward as a grin spread across her face. You grabbed her and held her at an arm's length to assess her for injuries, but found nothing severe. “You're okay? You're alright?”

“I’m alright. I promised you I'd come back to you just fine.”

“Well that was before-”

“The Vision has got Wanda,” Steve interrupted, “I'm going to go up and tell her about… you know, but are we agreed on bringing her back with us?”

“She's got powers that she'll need training to control, I doubt the government will let her do anything else but come with us.”

“Don't bring that part up just yet though,” you added, “she's dealing with enough.”

He nodded, then left the two of you alone again. “So, The Vision…is that the red guy?” Natasha asked quickly. The two of you began to walk towards the control boards.

“Oh yeah! I suppose you were never properly introduced. Thor had a ‘vision’, and it was powerful enough to make him take Tony's side.”

“Wow, Asgardian visions must be something else.”

“You're telling me.”

“Y/L/N!” Fury called. You and Natasha stopped in your tracks to look over at him; he raised an eyebrow and impatiently beckoned you closer.

“I need a word with Y/N. Alone.” The Director warned when Natasha followed you over, “we have your big green friend on call, see if you can get through to him while we talk.”

Natasha’s first reaction was to check with you, but you met her eye and nodded, giving her the reassurance that you could deal with Fury alone.

You watched alongside Fury as your girlfriend rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, before the man finally turned to you with a glint in his eye.

“I have some news for you, if you're interested in hearing it-”

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

“Your suit’s not on properly.”

“What? Yes it is, I can dress myself just fine, Nat.”

“Your belt is supposed to be tucked into your left belt loop, not the right.”

You looked down and, sure enough, your belt was wrapped anti-clockwise around your waist instead of clockwise. You then looked back up at your girlfriend, a tired look of disbelief on your face that that was the detail she decided to pick up on.

“Literally no-one is gonna notice that.”

“I did.”

“You're a special case.”

“Awww, you think I'm special,” she cooed sarcastically, before deftly undoing a redoing your belt. “There. You're all set.”

“Who'd have thought this is where we'd be 7 years ago, huh?”

You stepped out of your room, Natasha following right behind you, and headed toward the giant halls of the new Avengers Facility.

“I definitely didn't, you were shit when we met.”

“I'd argue but I always admitted that was true. And now here we both are, leading teams while we're still in our 20s… except, oh wait, oh you're old, I forgot.”

“You're so funny,” Natasha deadpanned, giving a sarcastic grin in response to your smug look.

“Fury wants to meet me here,” she then said, stopping you both at the intersection between your destination and a dead-end viewing platform. She took your hands in hers and traced your knuckles with her thumbs, “I am proud of you, you know that? You've achieved so much, and you're going to do brilliantly today. Good luck, my love.”

“Good luck to you too, baby.” You learnt in, kissing her quickly before you drifted apart, spitting towards your opposite destinations. “No pressure,” you called after her, “but the future of Earth's defence is in your hands!”

She flipped you off, while you turned and continued to walk down the endless maze of corridors until you bumped into Steve.

“Morning, Captain,”

“Y/N. Are you off to training?”

“Sure am.”

“I still don't suppose I can convince you to join me and Nat?”

You shook your head apologetically. “A team of superheroes and superpowers isn't really where I should be. The cameras and publicity and media scrutiny, it's not for me. But I've got my place and I've got my new recruits to train, so when you need us, we'll be there to support you in the background of it all.”

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

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