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javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months

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Chapter 18: Hole in None

Summary: During your bridal shower, Steve takes Javi golfing. When they return, the way Javi is acting has you questioning everything you knew about your relationship.

Word Count: 12.1K (getting back to my roots of a short chapter LMAO)

Warnings: SMUT(18+) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint?), makeup sex and getting caught (The Murphy's will never catch a break) ANGST (I'm so sorry!!), Hurt/comfort, Javi being super insecure, you being confused as hell, Steve being an absolute idiot

A/N: HELLO. IT'S ME! I DO EXSIST! I am genuinely SO sorry that this chapter has taken a million years to happen. December has been so busy and I have had no time to write, so I really, really appreciate all of your patience 🥺 This is a lil different than any other chapter we've had so far in the NTL universe, it's a lil angsty-er than normal but ya girl only believes in happy endings so don't fret!!! Also poorly beta'd bc I have the stomach flu and I am 100% there are mistakes in this chapter that I'm sure I missed 🫠

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“Do I really have to do this? This thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already exhausted.”

“Yes, Hermosa, I do think that most people do expect the bride to be at her own bridal shower.” Javi laughed, staring into the bathroom mirror as he ran his hands through the dark curls of his hair, fixing them into place as you stood next to him, finishing the rest of your longer than usual makeup routine to prepare for being the center of attention against your will for the next several hours.

It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that your co-workers wanted to throw you a bridal shower before your wedding, now only a few weeks away- the sentiment of the whole thing was incredibly thoughtful. Your 3rd grade teammates had even found a way to get in touch with your family to make sure that your mom, aunts and cousins felt included in the event, too. You should have been thrilled about the fact that the people who loved you most in the world were coming together to celebrate your upcoming wedding and quite literally showering you with gifts, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything else, it was the social exhaustion that came from having a party planned for no one but you.

You had really tried to convince Maria, Estelle, Linda, and now, your mom that you didn’t need a bridal shower- your wedding was going to be small, and since you had already been living on your own, there weren’t a lot of things you needed as you started married life together. Unfortunately, neither of those arguments were going to stop those ladies from going all out for you, leaving you feeling like your bridal shower was turning out to be even bigger than your actual wedding.

“Don’t you think I could just get a cardboard cutout of myself and use that instead? All these ladies love to talk so much that I don’t think they would even know the difference.” You sighed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before putting away the rest of your makeup as Javi snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss into your shoulder as he pressed his chest against your back.

“I have a feeling that someone would notice.” Javi chuckled, a soft grin spreading across his face as your eyes met in the mirror, his smile and sweet eyes enough to calm your nerves for at least a moment. “I would definitely notice.”

“Well that’s easy for you to say, you don’t even have to be there.” You huffed, letting a little pout fall from your lips as Javi playfully shook you in his grasp, trying your best not to smile as you tried to keep up your unenthused facade. “It’s not too late to trade. You can go to the bridal shower and I can go golfing with you and Steve.”

Even though Javi had insisted he was more than happy to stay at the shower with you, Maria had insisted that Javi find another way to spend his time so the spotlight of the day could be on you, and not him being distractingly handsome to everyone else there. Lucky for Javi, that meant extra time to spend with Steve while Connie was at your shower- not so lucky for you that Maria had banished your future husband from attending an event for your own wedding.

“I honestly may have to take you up on that. Steve must have needed an ego boost when I let him pick what he wanted to do while you and Connie were at the shower because he knows I can’t golf for shit.” Javi’s overdramatic sigh and roll of his eyes was enough to make you break into a little giggle, turning your head enough to press a quick kiss onto his cheek before reaching your hand under his chin, giving his jaw a little jiggle. “It’ll go by fast, Osita, I promise. And then, when we get home,” he paused, pressing another kiss into your shoulder and up towards your neck, digging his fingers a little tighter into your sides as he rasped into your ear, “I’ll take as much time as you want to destress you.”

“As much time as I want? Bold of you to assume that the dog is gonna give us that long.” You snickered as a happy Bear trotted into your bathroom right on cue, his tail loudly thumping against the bathroom cabinets from his happy wags as he wedged himself between you and Javi.

The newest furry member of your household had been a well loved addition, but if there was one thing Bear had no concept of, it was privacy. Your dog had become a constant shadow to you and Javi anywhere and everywhere in your house, including your in your bedroom, even when you were, well, not sleeping. It hadn’t helped that Javi had already formed such a soft spot for Bear, and had let him on your bed from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, and now, your dog and his clingy personality had become a new obstacle to try and navigate in your sex life.

“Someone needs to tell his dad that he’ll survive if he gets left out of the bedroom for a half hour, huh? That he’s adorable, but that he can be a little cockblock, can’t he?” Squatting down next to Bear, you wrapped your hands around his face, scratching behind his ears as you mockingly serenaded him, raising an eyebrow at Javi.

“He just sounds so sad when he whines and he’s trapped outside the door.” Javi grumbled, kneeling down to join you, patting Bear’s stomach, now much thicker and fuller than it was a few weeks ago after you had first brought him home, skinny and neglected from his lack of care from his previous owners.

“You say trapped like we're kicking him out to the streets when we close the door on him. He’s adorable and sweet, but he’s a dog, Jav, he’ll be okay.” You smirked, playfully scolding Javi as you peppered Bear’s head with kisses, making his tail thump even harder as it wagged back and forth. “Tell your dad you’ll be just fine, won’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Javi groaned, knowing damn well you were right, even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he had become an absolute softie for your new dog. “Alright, Hermosa, we gotta get you to this shower before Maria yells at me for making you late.” Pushing his hands against his knees, Javi let out a little grunt as he pushed himself back up to stand, checking the time on the silver watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Wow, so eager to get rid of me, you must really be excited to go get your ass kicked in golf.” You teased, now following suit and straightening out your dress as you stood, throwing your arms around Javi’s neck, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a little kiss on his lips. “Sure you don’t want me to golf for you?”

“I’m sure, you dork.”

After Javi had insisted on giving Bear more than his fair share of treats before the two of you left for the day, you were on the road to Maria’s, Javi insisting that he drop you off, instead of letting you take the treacherous 2 minute drive by yourself. As you drove down Maria’s street, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of walking up to her house for an end of the school year party almost exactly a year ago. A party that had ultimately turned a handsome stranger from the Laredo Sheriff's department into your future husband, now sitting in the driver’s seat on the way to your bridal shower. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony, leaning your head over onto Javi’s broad shoulder as you pulled up to Maria’s house.

“What’s up, Osita?” Javi asked, a twinge of confusion in his voice at the content and calm of your demeanor as the two of you arrived at the event that you had been seemingly dreading for days.

“I just- It was probably a year ago to the day the last time that we were at Maria’s house. Crazy to think that a year later we’re getting married and here for my bridal shower. I don’t know, a year ago I never would have thought I would have met someone I love so much, let alone be getting married, building a house, owning a dog, I- I’m just really happy that the department made you come to do that stupid presentation. You’ve made this year the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Jav.”

A tender silence hung in the air as Javi leaned over the center console, gently bringing his palm to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek, letting his sweet brown eyes lock with yours as a soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Osita.” His words barely left his mouth above a whisper, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you could have stayed like this forever, lost in the moment of your love for each other, but unfortunately, the world had other plans.

“JAVIER. DIOS MIO. CAN YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER FOR 3 SECONDS?” Maria shouted, banging at the driver’s side window, the aggressive thumps of her hand against the glass making the two of you practically jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Fucking Christ….” Javi whispered, clutching his hand over his chest, trying to steady his heart rate back to normal, the two of you looking at each other in pure terror.

“If you’re going to drop her off and make a scene in my driveway, the least you can do is help an old woman out before you leave, Javier!” Maria demanded, still rapping her knuckles against the glass, the two of you trying to keep from dying of embarrassment as you exited out of the car.

“Sorry Maria…” The two of you grimaced, still trying to avoid direct eye contact with her before she decided to scold you more.

“Chucho is right, you two are no worse than a pair of teenagers. Come on, we only have an hour before everyone arrives and I need you and that wildly blonde haired boy to help me move chairs.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Maria was already halfway up the driveway and into the house as you and Javi trailed behind her, glancing at each other in confusion as to who she was referring to, until you noticed the Murphy’s car parked on the side of the street, realizing that Steve and Connie must have beaten you there.

Before you even had a chance to make it a foot into the house, you were greeted by an overbearing swarm of people rushing to say hello and give you a hug, already feeling overwhelmed 30 seconds into the start of your shower, and these were all people you knew. Your mom was the first to make her way through the crowd, squeezing you in a death grip hug, even though you had just seen her last night after picking her up from the airport and dropping her off at her hotel.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the day is almost here! My baby girl is finally getting married! Ugh, you look beautiful sweetheart!” Your mom beamed, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek before making her way over to Javi, squeezing him just as hard. “C’mere, don’t think that you get to escape hugs from me too, Javi.” Javi looked over at you, trying his best not to laugh at everyone’s dramatics, knowing how stressed you already were, and that no one’s overly excited attitude was doing you any favors.

“Ouch on the finally there, Mom. What do you need help with?” You asked, noticing that your mom had been holding on to Javi for a touch longer than what was probably appropriate while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around Maria’s house.

“Does he always smell that good? God, I wished your father smelled like that, the man smells like a sweaty sock. Javi, what kind of cologne do you-”

“Mom! Jesus Christ.” You interjected, burying your hands in your face.

“Sorry, sorry! Honey, you don’t need to help with anything, it’s your shower!” Your mom swatted her hand at you, shaking her head in disbelief that you would ask to help, even though she knew better than anyone it was not in your nature to sit back on the sidelines and let other people do the work for you.

“Why don’t you come help me set up decorations?” A soft voice replied behind you, making you whip your head around as their hand rested on your shoulder.

“Connie!” You grinned, throwing her arms around her, relieved to find someone who wasn’t going to drive you absolutely crazy for the next hour of party prep. “It’s so good to see you, thank you so much for coming!”

“Hey, Sweetheart!” a lower voice grunted from behind a stack of folding chairs making its way to the backyard.

“Wow, Maria put you to work too, Steve? Yikes, she’s running a tight ship around here.” You and Connie snickered as Steve set down his stack of chairs, revealing his already sweaty and frustrated face, considering Maria had probably made him carry 6 trips worth of seats up and down the stairs since he and Connie had arrived.

“You’re tellin’ me. Hey, make yourself useful and pick up some of these chairs, lazy ass. Sooner we get this set up, the sooner I kick your butt at golf.” Steve smirked, gesturing over at Javi, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“In that case, I’m taking one chair at a time.” Javi sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple in stride towards Steve, giving him a swift hug and a pat on the back before being interrupted by a shrill and demanding voice.

“JAVIER. I HEARD THAT. IF I DON’T SEE YOU WITH A STACK OF CHAIRS IN YOUR HANDS THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE, IT’D BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.” Maria shouted from across the house, making everyone’s faces freeze in fear.

“You heard the woman. Chop, chop, Peña.” Steve chuckled to himself before passing off half of the chairs over to Javi, and walking towards the back of the house as Javi picked up his share, begrudgingly trailing behind Steve.

“Alright, we should probably get to work on decorations before Maria finds us standing around for too long. I know you’re the bride, but I have a feeling that holds very little value to her until everything is set up.” Connie shrugged, nodding towards the backyard where the shower was being held.

“You’re definitely right, and I would prefer to live through my bridal shower in order to make it to my actual wedding.”

With all of the helping hands around the house, and Maria’s commanding dictatorship over shower setup, all of you had finished with time to spare, leaving your mom and co-workers to happily chat and gossip amongst themselves as you and Connie found your way to say goodbye to Steve and Javi, one of whom was looking much more excited about departing for golf than the other.

“Have fun, ladies. Any last words for your future husband before I absolutely obliterate him on the golf course?” Steve snickered, giving Javi a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes as he braced himself for the next 3 hours of harassment from his former partner.

“Don’t be too hard on him, okay Steve? He gets grumpy when he loses, so just a reasonable amount of ass whooping, nothing too drastic.” You teased, now playfully punching on the other side of his arm, you, Steve, and Connie laughing to yourselves at Javi’s fed up frown.

“Says the one who literally pouted for hours after insisting we play "Sorry" and then she lost.” Javi smugly murmured, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well someone wasn’t very sorry about it, were they… You know what, Steve? I changed my mind, go ahead and kick his ass for me.” A mischievous grin grew across your face, bursting out into giggles as Javi flung his arms around you, giving you a squeeze and shaking you in his grasp.

“Pendejo. Alright, you need anything else before I go get my ass kicked, Hermosa?” Javi asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. You were about to speak, but stopped yourself for a moment, looking Javi up and down, admiring how handsome he looked in the khakis and navy blue polo he had picked out this morning. You’d been so worried and worked up about the day that you hadn’t really had a chance to get a good look at him until now, and God, part of you wished you hadn’t taken the time to really take it all in as he stood next to you. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it now, but that wasn’t about to stop you from at least getting a little taste.

“Uh yeah, I uh- actually um, I uh, I scraped my finger earlier on one of the banners I was setting up and I think I got a papercut. I forgot to ask Maria about it earlier, but um, can you show me where the bandaids are upstairs again?” You tried your best to sound as casual as possible, but Javi knew just as well as you that there was no way in hell that you actually needed a bandaid. His brow scrunched in a slight confusion, head cocked to the side as if to say “I think I know where this is going and I’m not really sure it’s going to work” before giving you a little shrug, gesturing up towards the bathroom at the top of the stairwell, trying to keep his smug grin hidden between his lips.

“Yeah, I uh- here, let me show you where they are and I can get you one before we go.” Before Steve or Connie could even muster a word in protest, Javi was already dragging you halfway up the stairs, barely letting you make it to the top of the stairway before closing the bathroom door behind you.

“Band Aid, really? That was the best you could come up with?” Javi laughed under his breath, letting his hands roam down your sides and under the hem of your dress as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass, the heat of his breath tickling your skin where his lips met your neck, gently sucking at your pulse point, making a tiny moan escape from your mouth.

“I needed to come up with something to get you alone for long enough to give you a proper goodbye before you left.”

“And a Band Aid was the way to do that?”

“Oh shut up.” You giggled, draping your arms over Javi’s neck, letting your hands roam through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling him in tighter to let his lips crash into yours with an electric intensity, his fingertips gripping deeper into your flesh.

“I don’t think-” Javi muttered between kisses, “I don’t think a bandaid is gonna buy us enough time to do anything, Hermosa.”

“I know. I just needed this. Just needed to kiss your stupidly handsome face. I needed something before you left me to fend for myself. Plus,” you paused, pulling back to see the lovestruck grin spread between Javi’s cheeks, “only fair that I get a chance to recreate our first kiss.” You snickered, gesturing to the interior of Maria’s bathroom, where you had found yourself with Javi almost a year ago to the day, your lips meeting for the first time as you sat on the ledge of the sink after Javi had came to your aid when a shattered beer bottle had landed in your leg.

“Fuck, I forgot our first kiss was in Maria’s bathroom. Real fucking smooth of me, huh?” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes at his past self for letting your first kiss be in the bathroom of his Mom’s best friend’s house.

“Smooth enough for me to wanna marry you, so I guess it all worked out okay, didn’t it?” You teased, planting one last kiss on his lips before shooting him a wink and slipping out the bathroom, your face warm and tingly from the rush of excitement tucked away with Javi in your impromptu makeout session. Javi ran his hand over his face, taking a moment to try and compose himself, shaking his head to himself in shock and delight at how he found himself falling more and more in love with you every day.

“Okay, uh- sorry, sorry about that. Just didn’t wanna have to bother Maria for anything.” You sighed, darting your eyes away from Steve and Connie, their arms crossed against their chest with almost comically smug smirks on their faces as they watched you shuffle back down the stairs, Javi reluctantly trailing behind you.

“Yeah? How’d that bandaid work out for ya?” Steve smiled with a shit eating grin, nodding to your hands, neither of them with a bandaid anywhere in sight. You let out a gulp, trying to quickly tuck your hands behind your back, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “Goddamn, you two gonna make it 3 hours without touching each other, or am I gonna have to bring him back here after hole 4 for a mid-round makeout?”

“Jesus Christ, Murph, really?.” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Bye, love you. Have fun and I’ll see you soon.” Leaned over, snaking his arm around your waist to plant one last kiss in your hair.

“Not soon enough, apparently…”

“Murphy…”

“Stop makin’ out and I’ll stop givin’ you shit.”

“Touche…” You muttered under your breath, just loud enough to make the 4 of you burst into laughter, easing the uncomfortable tension that you had brought upon yourself from your antics. “Love you too, have fun getting your ass kicked.”

“Yes, yes, out, out, out! It’s only 10 minutes until guests arrive and your truck is taking up all the room in the driveway! Out!” Stampeding into the living room, Maria waved her hands at the boys, quite literally shooing them out of the house after overhearing your goodbyes. Giving a quick wave to Javi as Maria kicked him and Steve to the curb, you caught Javi’s head whipping around for one last glance at you before you left, giving you a once over with his eyes and a soft smile on his face as the front door shut behind him.

Truth be told, your shower ended up being way less painful than you expected it would be. In all honesty, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. The fact that your mom, co-workers, and Connie had put into helping everyone come together to celebrate you filled your heart with so much more joy than you could have predicted- your friends and family had bought you and Javi so many more gifts than you knew what to do with, had so many kind things to say about the two of you, and Connie had even gone out of her way to make sure that there were fun games planned for everyone to keep the need for constant socialization at bay. It really had ended up being a fun afternoon, even if it meant having to answer the same questions about your wedding, house and honeymoon plans more times than you could count.

Javi, on the other hand, could not have been having a worse time on the golf course, getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Steve hole after hole, wondering to himself how anyone could bring themself to genuinely enjoy the torture that had been the past two and a half hours of hacking his club into chunks of grass and loosing his golf balls in the brush. The only consoling factor was that Javi was grateful to spend time with Steve, even if it meant being berated by endless questions from him on top of his painful performance while he played.

“You feelin’ ready for the big day?” Steve grunted, after smacking his driver against his ball from the tee box, Javi relieved that the pair were finally on the 9th and final hole.

“Yeah, I mean- Oh fuck me-” Javi grumbled, hitting his club and watching his ball fly into a patch of trees, the opposite direction of where he was trying to aim for, “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.”

“You and me both, Jav. I never thought I’d live to see the fuckin’ day, that’s for damn sure. Javier Peña, a married man.” Steve chuckled, slipping his club into his golf bag as Javi followed behind, grabbing what must have been the 57th golf ball from his bag this round.

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ jab, the two of them hopping into the golf cart together to try and scavenge for Javi’s long lost ball.

“I’m just given’ you shit, Jav. I’m fuckin’ happy for you man. Really happy. She’s a great girl. Best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass, I’ll tell you that much. Guess you don’t have to worry about really followin’ through this time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re actually gonna get married this time? You’re not leavin’ her at the altar like Lorraine, huh?” As Steve laughed to himself, Javi could practically feel his stomach drop, his heart beginning to race as a wave of terrible guilt and panic washed over him at his friend’s ironic question.

To his own shock and surprise, Javi hadn’t thought about his last lack of a wedding once since the two of you had gotten engaged. He had been so head over heels excited to spend the rest of his life with you, that the failures of his past engagement had been tucked far away in the back of his mind. But then again, no one had been so gracious as to bring up the knife to the chest that was leaving Lorraine at the altar, and no one had been so gracious as to bring it up in classic Steve Murphy fashion.

Javi could audibly hear himself gulp, his heartbeat pounding so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears as the terrible reality of the past he had so glady forgotten about met him in a head on collision, instantly re-opening all of the cuts and wounds he had finally managed to sew together.

The last time he almost got married, Javier Peña had astronomically fucked up the lives of every last person who cared about him, leaving nothing but chaos and heartbreak in his wake.

Rationally, Javi could tell himself that his upcoming wedding was the polar opposite of everything that was once planned between him and Lorraine. Javi couldn’t have cared less about Lorraine. From the moment he had wearily accepted his fate, he had dreaded every moment of his future from that point on. But you were not Lorraine.

Javi loved you.

Javi cared about you.

Javi wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you and give you everything in the world you could possibly want.

But, one mention of that 8 letter name had Javi’s brain flooding with every single doubt, regret, and painful memory of his past that he had fought so hard to forget. It had his mind reeling with every uncomfortable feeling of remembering the man he had been before you had come into his life and changed him for the better. He knew he was a better man. A stronger man. A man who was worthy of the love and compassion you had shown him from the moment you two had met.

Or was he?

“Earth to Javi? Hello? Anyone home?” Waving his hand in front of Javi’s face, Steve stared at Javi in confusion as to why it seemed like his friend had suddenly become lost in his own world as they pulled up to the patch of trees where his ball had most likely landed.

“Uh yeah, uh- what, sorry, um, what did you say?” Javi asked, visibly trying to shake the thoughts from his head, painfully scrunching his face and running his hand through his hair before looking back over at Steve.

“I asked if you were gonna go get the ball or if you just wanted to add to your +200 score and drop one here instead. Hey, you okay, man?” Steve questioned, pausing for a moment before asking the later half of his statement, seeing the color flushed from Javi’s face.

“Uh, yeah- Yeah, sorry, I just, I’m good. I’ll um, I’ll just drop a ball.” Javi muttered half to himself as he stepped out of the cart, barely paying attention enough to even remember what in the world he was even looking for in his golf bag.

If Javi wasn’t already thankful to be on the last hole before Steve’s comment, he sure as hell was now, mindlessly whacking his golf club with no regard as to how his ball made it to the green. Any thoughts about golf, let alone any previous attempts to even try to play well had now flown out the window, creeping thoughts of self doubt and resentment crawling through Javi’s mind. The rest of the round and the entire car ride back to Maria’s were spent in an internal battle ranging in Javi’s brain, the fight between the man he used to be and the man he’d thought he’d become rearing its ugly head with a painful intensity that absolutely felt like it was consuming him whole.

Steve, who was just as oblivious to his friend’s distraught state as he was to the idiocracy of his sarcastic question, had chalked Javi’s quiet and somber mood up to being an overly sore loser after getting mercilessly crushed at golf. Little did he know that his one silly comment had sent Javi spiraling down a trail of crushing self-doubt.

As the pair pulled into the driveway and made their way to the backyard where a few straggling party goers still lingered, trying to monopolize their time with you to get the details of your upcoming plans for the future. Being the attentive and patient person that you were, you were trying your hardest to seem enthused and engaged with in the conversation with who you thought was Javi’s Aunt’s Cousin (at this point, you had been introduced to so many new people, you were questioning your own name), but it wasn’t long before your future husband’s big, broad body entering the backyard had you more than distracted, your face instantly lighting up at the sight of him. Peeking over his Aunt’s cousin (or cousin’s aunt, you weren’t really sure) shoulder, you bit down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, letting a little wave shake from your hand in his direction.

Javi wished that your sweet smile and beautiful self were enough to snap him out of his funk, to see how you beamed in excitement just at the sight of him and shot him that lovestruck look he’d never get sick of- but for some twisted reason, it only made him feel worse.

You were everything- kind, smart, funny, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. But what was he? Tired? Broken? A shitty guy who had done even shitter things, who had left nothing but destruction in his path for years and years, with no regard for who it hurt, or even worse, left for dead? How was he supposed to give you everything you deserved when he sure as fuck didn’t deserve you?

Before you had even said a word to him, you could already sense something was off about Javi’s demeanor that was due to more than just losing to Steve in golf. Even from across the backyard, his forced smile and tired brown eyes had a worried pit swirling in the bottom of your stomach, politely excusing yourself from your conversation to make your way over to Javi.

“Hi! You guys have fun at golf? Steve didn’t kick your ass too bad?” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Javi’s waist, pressing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth barely ghosting over yours in return.

“Yeah, it was um- yeah, it was fine.” Javi nodded, trying to make a smile appear between his pursed lips. “How was the shower? You uh, you ready for Steve and I to start putting things in the truck to bring over to the new house?”

You immediately frowned in response, cocking your head in confusion at him. “Yeah, it was great, but hey, are- are you okay? You seem really off, like more than just Steve kicking your ass at golf off. Did something happen?”

“No, I’m- yeah, I’m good, Hermosa.” Javi’s eyes darted towards the ground, trying his best to stifle his sigh before another fake smile spread across his face, his response making you even more concerned than you were before, seeing he was clearly lying to you. As much as you wanted to problem solve right then and there to figure out what had Javi so distressed, the calls of one of the last groups of party goers wanting to say their goodbyes rang across the backyard, you flashing them a quick smile and a wave to signal you’d be over in a second. Before you could try and get anything else out of Javi, he had already backed himself away from your hands still tangled around his waist, nodding towards the group of women who were not so patiently waiting for you. “Go say goodbye, I’ll start loading stuff up.”

“Um, I- uh, yeah, o-okay. Thanks.” You murmured, half to yourself, as Javi had already begun to walk away to find Steve to help him start carrying things out to the car, leaving you more anxious and confused with every passing second.

With goodbyes finished, and decor and party setup cleaned up just as fast as Maria had demanded it to be put up, you and Javi made your way to your now packed car, followed by Connie and Steve, who had asked to see the progress on your new house while they were in town. You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone, inviting them over and having them help to unload gifts in the same trip, but now, given the strangely somber mood that Javi couldn’t seem to shake, you really wished it was just the two of you so you could figure out what the hell was going on.

You and Javi piled into his truck, Steve and Connie hopping into theirs and following you down Maria’s street towards your new house. A stark silence filled the car, praying to yourself that maybe Javi just wanted to be alone before he said anything about his current state, but 5 minutes down the road without a single word falling from his lips, you had a devastating feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.

Your leg bounced against the seat, fingers nervously drumming in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh to yourself before looking over at Javi and mustering up the courage to try and interrogate.

“Sooooo, golf was fun? I love ya, but I think it’s probably safe to assume Steve won?” You quietly snickered, trying your best to stay nonchalant.

“Yeah, it was good, Steve won, but that’s no surprise because I suck at golf.” Javi mumbled to himself, barely glancing your direction from behind the yellow tinted aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Normally, if either of you had something that self-deprecating to say, it was at least followed by some sort of a joke or laugh, but his comment ended with nothing but a stoic silence as his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel.

“Hey, babe, it’s okay, you don’t ever golf, so it’s hard to expect yourself to be good at something you rarely ever do.” You reached over to grab his arm to reassure him, that unsettling and anxious pit beginning to grow in your stomach again with the way Javi was acting. All he could muster was a half hearted huff in response, signaling to you that whatever was happening was much bigger than a poor game of golf.

“Javi… Baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Steve?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing, Jav. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I told you, it’s fine.”

“Javi, it obviously isn’t fine if this is the way you’re acting about it. Why won’t you talk to me about it? I just wanna-”

“I told you, it’s fine, okay!? Jesus, I don’t need you to solve all my problems.”

Oh.

You and Javi had been in arguments before, hell, you’d been in fights before, but never once in the time that you’d known him, had Javi snapped at you like this. You could practically feel yourself recoiling in your seat from the harsh tone of his voice, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes. You could feel your heart in your throat, choking down a heavy gulp as your lip quivered to try and keep from crying.

What had gone so wrong that Javi was acting like this?

You wish you had it in you to dig it out of him, but as you pulled up the driveway of your new home, Steve and Connie right behind you, ready for a tour, the best you could muster was a quiet, “O-okay.” As soon as the car was in park, Javi was unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him, leaving you behind in the car, trying everything in your power to not become a startled, sobbing mess.

Wiping away the wetness pooling behind your eyelids, you swiped the back of your hand against your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths before following behind, mustering up as much courage as you could to keep your cool for however long Steve and Connie were planning to stick around before heading back to San Antonio.

You had hoped that Steve and Connie hadn't picked up on the palpable tension brewing between you and Javi, trying your best to put on a brave face as you paraded the Murphy’s through your nearly completed house. To be quite honest, you couldn’t have recalled anything that had happened in the time that they were there, your mind racing in torment as you watched Javi brood around your new home, barely saying a word to you, let alone make any eye contact, or look in your general direction.

As the four of you made your way upstairs, your attention was finally caught by the low lull of Steve’s laughter as he situated himself between you and Javi, grabbing you both by the shoulders and shaking you in his grasp.

“Well I’ll be damned. Y’all got enough rooms up here to house half a baseball team! You want that many kids driving ya nuts, huh?” Steve chuckled, making his way down the hallway, peeking into the empty bedrooms of your 2nd story.

“Steve!” Connie scolded, slapping the back of her hand against Steve’s stomach for his comment.

“What?! I’m just sayin’! I thought y’all would want like, 2, but there’s enough room for way more than that. I mean, I guess you two are fuckin’ goin’ at it like rabbits all the time, so I can’t really be shocked.”

“Steven Edward Murphy! Jesus Christ!” Connie snapped, shooting Steve a dangerous glare, aggressively raising an eyebrow at her husband as she gestured towards you and Javi.

“No, it’s okay, we don’t know for sure how many we want, but we figured if we had the space we’d add the rooms and even if they’re not bedrooms, they’ll still get used.” You had it in you enough to force a half smile across your face, flashing it at Steve and Connie before looking over at Javi.

While you hadn’t expected much of a response from him given the current situation, what you weren’t expecting was the panic stricken look painting Javi from head to toe.

If you weren’t already worried out of your mind about what the fuck was going on with Javi, you sure as fuck were now.

“Uh, I um- yeah.”

Those were the only words Javi was able to choke out through the audible thumps pounding in his chest as his face went ghost white, eyes peeled to the ground.

“See, Steve? You’re making them uncomfortable! You have absolutely no filter, I swear! I’m so sorry, you guys!” Connie frantically apologized, giving Steve another hardy slap in the stomach, making him wince.

“I’m just jokin’, Jesus Christ, sorry!” Steve grumbled, holding up his hands in defense from his wife’s accusation, sheepishly looking over at you and Javi with a little shrug.

“No, it’s uh- no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You had given up on trying to be convincing at this point, your voice quietly shaking as you stared at Javi, now looking like a terrified, ragged shell of himself.

What the fuck was going on? Did Javi want to wait to have kids? Did he not want to have that many? Was he having second thoughts about kids all together? Fuck, was he having second thoughts about getting married? He’s literally never acted like this before. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were sure at this point, you probably looked just as much of a mess as Javi did, letting your thoughts race wildly throughout your brain, the silence now lingering between the four of you now seemed to feel deafening, Connie beginning to pick up on the uneasiness festering between you and Javi and knowing she had enough common sense for her and Steve to pick up her cue to see herself out.

“Well, still, I’m sorry. We should probably get going anyways, we told the sitter we’d be back around 6 so we should probably hit the road. Thank you so much for the tour! The shower was beautiful and I’m so glad I could be there for it. We’ll see you guys for the big day soon! Just let me know if you need any help with wedding stuff between now and then okay?”

“Uh yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for all your help, Con. I’ll um- I’ll let you know if we need anything.” You stammered as Connie pulled you in for a hug goodbye, followed quickly by Steve, who planted a few pats on your back mid hug.

“Bye sweetheart, thanks for letting me steal this asshole for golf today. See y’all when you’re gettin’ ready to get hitched! Adios, loser.” Steve chuckled as he pulled away from your hug to tug Javi into another, giving him an even harder pat on the back before letting Connie say her goodbyes as well.

“Do you want me to walk you guys down to your-”

“Nah, we’ll find our way out, no worries. Bye lovebirds, see ya soon.” Steve grinned, giving the both of you one last wave farewell before disappearing down the stairs, their hushed bickers about Steve’s unnecessary comments quietly trailing behind them. Before you could even get a word out to Javi now that the two of you were alone, he was already halfway down the stairs behind the Murphy’s, not even bothering to look back at you as he mumbled under his breath.

“I’m gonna get the gifts out of the car and go sit outside.”

“Jav, wait, I-”

You could feel the lump beginning to swell in your throat, your bottom lip trembling with tears welling in your eyes as you watched Javi storm down the stairs without even so much as an attempt to care about what you had to say, leaving you with nothing but yourself and 5 empty bedrooms that now had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your future with Javi. You felt your body begin to collapse like a sad pile of jello as you melted into a sobbing puddle on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest as you cried into the flowy fabric of your dress, leaving wet stains behind from your tears. Your breaths were rapid and shaky with each muffled sob, trying to rationally grasp on to something, anything, as to why Javi was acting this way. But the more the gears frantically turned in your brain, the more irrational and terrifying your thoughts became.

This all happened so fucking fast. It’s only been a year since I’ve known him. Is he realizing it’s too much? Am I too much? This was all too fucking good to be true, wasn’t it, you fucking idiot.

Taking a few more minutes to collect yourself enough to at least stop full on sobbing, you wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your palm, inhaling a trembling deep breath as you mustered up every ounce of courage you could find to face whatever fate was waiting for you downstairs with Javi.

Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, leaving your fingers anxiously drumming against your legs as you saw Javi’s broad body hunched over the side of the unfinished back patio, staring out to the tall grass of your backyard swaying in the warm summer breeze. If it were any other time, you would have rushed up behind him, wrapping your body around his back and attacking him with kisses until the two of you were wound up in a fit of laughter and giggles, happily tangled in each other's bodies.

Right now, you were terrified to even step too close to him.

Carefully and quietly sliding open the glass door to the porch, you prayed with every bone in your body you weren’t going to do anything that set Javi off enough to even let you attempt to have a conversation with him about what was going on. The new wood softly creaked under your shoes, making Javi turn his head just enough to acknowledge your presence as you wearily approached him. Taking one more deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but with your jaw hanging open, Javi’s words filled the stark silence before yours could.

“I don’t know if we should get married.”

Fuck.

You could practically feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, like the weight of 1,000 bricks had been dropped on your body all at once, hearing that come out of his mouth. You could have mentally tried to brace yourself for a lot of things, but hearing Javi tell you he didn't want to get married anymore sure as hell wasn't one of them.

“Javi, I- baby, what- I don’t- I don’t-”

“Why the fuck do you even wanna marry me?”

Your brows scrunched in pain and confusion at the sharp tone of his words, desperate to try and understand what point he was trying to prove in this gut wrenching game he seemed to be playing.

“Because I- Javi, I- Javi I love you, that’s why.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sat down next to him on the edge of the porch, leaning over enough to see the tears glistening down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to stifle the sobs rumbling in his chest. He shook his head back and forth before his gaze fell into his lap.

“You shouldn’t love me.”

“Javi… what the fuck are you talking about?” you plead, feeling the pain and hurt creeping through your body as you watched the tears he was so desperately trying to fight. With a scornful scoff, Javi shook his head, pressing against his knees to stand, taking a few paces around the porch, burying his hands in his face, his words muffled and muted by his palms covering his mouth.

“What the fuck am I- I’m not- I’m not what you deserve. I don’t understand how you don’t fucking see that.”

You followed suit, bringing yourself to stand with your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring at Javi in bewilderment, biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from bursting into tears you thought you were going to make it bleed. You could feel the storm of pain, anger and confusion brewing deep in the pit of your stomach, your body numb and mind blank.

“Javier. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand why-”

“Because last time I was gonna get married I fucked up everything. For everyone. I hurt everyone I cared about. I went half way around the world and I spent a decade fucking things up even more. How do you know I’m not gonna fuck everything up again? I love you too much to let it happen to you. The thought of ever hurting you even half as I much as I’ve hurt anyone else because of my choices fucking kills me. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt everyone else. I’d never fucking forgive myself. I love you more than anything, Osita. I love you more than anything in the world. You deserve someone who isn’t going to hurt you. Someone who will do right by you, by your family, your future children, I just- fuck- I don’t think that person can be me.”

A deafening silence hung in the air as you stared blankly at Javi, tears streaming from his tormented brown eyes, his body trembling with devastation and regret. You had no doubt your body mirrored his as the guilt and heartbreak flooded you from head to toe, wondering how in the world you had ever let the man you loved and cared about more than anything feel like he wasn’t enough for you.

You wished you could speak- to find the words to tell him that he was your everything, the glue that had put you back together when you were convinced there was nothing else that could mend the broken mess that you had become. You wished you could express to him that there was no one on the face of this earth that you would rather spend the rest of your life with than him- that there was no one else you wanted by your side through every moment of your life, the good, the bad and the ugly, more than him. You wished there was a way to tell him that you loved him more than anything, but in that moment, all you could do was grab him and wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as your body would let you, letting your wet face rest against the familiar warmth of his chest as you whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Javier Peña, you’re the only person it could be.”

You could feel his chest begin to rumble with heavy sobs as his arms draped around you, pulling you against his body so closely, it was like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. One arm stayed wrapped around your back as the other slid up the back of your neck, his broad palm cradling your head in his grasp, his fingers practically digging into your skin to keep you close as the two of you let yourselves do nothing but hold each other in your teary silence.

You let one of your hands reach up towards Javi’s face, cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze back on to you, as your thumb traced back and forth along his cheek, wiping away the wetness that had been welling in his eyes.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You asked, waiting until you felt Javi’s head gently nod up and down in understanding in your palm before you continued, “The man you were before doesn’t scare me. If it did, I would have been gone a long time ago. The man you were before has turned you into the man that you’ve become. The man that I want to spend everyday with for the rest of my life. Every good day, every bad day, every painful, hard and shitty day, and every day in between. And I promise that I will spend every last one of those days until the day I die trying my best to convince you that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if I die trying, then so be it. I love you, Javi. Don’t you ever think for a second that there is anyone out there that I want to spend the rest of my life with more than you, and I won’t ever let you forget it.”

It was only moments before both of Javi’s hands were cradling your face, gently trembling as they cupped your soft, wet skin as you locked eyes with his, watching his face shift from terrified to bewildered, thinking he must have misheard what you had just said to him.

“Osita, I-”

“Promise me.”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that you believe me. Promise me that you know I love you more than anything.”

There was a part of Javi’s brain that wished he could find something to prove that he couldn’t. To prove he wasn’t worthy of keeping the promise you had made to him. To convince himself that he had no reason to believe he was worthy of the love you had given him.

But the truth was, for the first time that he could remember, as he looked down at you, the woman who had taken his life and forever changed it for the better, who had helped to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed, who had cared for him in ways he never thought he deserved, and who had stood by him even as you learned about the ugliest parts of him he never thought he’d forgive himself for, Javier Peña finally realized he had learned what it was like to be worthy of love.

You had made him realize he was worthy of being loved.

A small gulp slid down his throat between his shaky breaths, taking a moment to soak in everything about you, before letting his lips ghost across yours as a quiet whisper left his mouth.

“I promise.”

And just like that, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocious and tender passion, soaking in every ounce of the sweet flavor of you, a taste he knew he would never tire of, one that he craved like nothing else.

“I love you, Osita. Fuck, I love you so much.” Javi moaned between your kisses, praying with every bone in his body you knew how much he meant it.

“I love you too, Javi.” The hot breath of your words danced across his lips before they were crashing together once again, his tongue swiping between your parted mouths as he ran his hand down your back and around your waist, pulling you so close you were convinced your bodies were going to melt into one as you pressed against his broad chest, now needily grasping at fist fulls of his shirt.

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how much you loved them. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how hopelessly he craved you, too.

With your bodies still tangled together, your kisses became messier and sloppier as you backed your way towards the door that lead inside, stumbling and trampling over each other’s feet without any regard for where you were headed until you felt your back bump against the kitchen island, the rounded edges of the countertop stopping you in your tracks as Javi caged you between his broad figure and the island.

Both of your hands were now feverishly roaming across each other’s bodies before Javi had run his hands down your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the countertop, planting hot, wet kisses across your neck and collarbone while his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, his palms sliding up and down your legs, digging his fingers into your flesh.

“Javi…” You whimpered, letting your eyes close and head fall back as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving you with one hand bracing yourself against the edge of the counter and the other with your fingers wrapped around the navy fabric of Javi’s shirt, clinging on for dear life.

You eyes opened, and gaze shifted downwards as you felt Javi pull away from your grasp, watching him drop to his knees, slotting himself between your parted legs and kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands tugged at the waistband of your already soaked underwear, hastily shuffling them to fall down your legs and pool at your ankles. His needy kisses up your thighs crept closer and closer to your core as your legs draped over his shoulders, kneeling before you like you were the altar of everything he worshiped as his deep brown eyes looked up at yours, like he was begging for forgiveness for his sins.

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I love you so much. Let me show me how much I love you. Please, baby. Please let me show you how much I need to be yours.”

Your response was nothing but a ragged moan as you felt his hot breath hovering over your cunt before letting long, flat licks of his tongue drag through your folds, each swipe pressing firmer than the last, lapping up the arousal dripping from your entrance like a sweet nectar. With one hand still white knuckling the edge of the countertop, the other shot down to bury itself in the dark curls of Javi’s thick locks, tugging at ends to find some place to ease your tension as he began to flick and swirl his tongue relentlessly against your clit, lapping you up like a man starved.

“Oh fuck Javi- fuck- you feel so good, baby.” You moaned, raking your fingers along Javi’s scalp as you watched his head bob nestled between your legs, feeling the low hum of satisfaction thrumming in his throat as he began to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt. You could already feel the tingle beginning to grow at the base of your spine and spread to your legs as Javi found every sweet spot that he knew made you lose all control, desperate to make you feel how much he needed your love and forgiveness.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go for me baby, I’ve got you.” Javi hummed before diving back between your legs, tightening his grip around your thighs as his tongue danced around your clit relentlessly. It wasn’t long before you could feel your orgasm begin to flood your body, pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, a death grip clutching around the counter and Javi’s dark locks. Javi worked you through your high, drinking up the juices of your slick as you came, feeling your legs tremble as they stayed slung over his broad shoulders, not stopping until your body was shaking and your whimpers and moans had become so wrecked, he had no choice but to stop to relish in the blissed out, dripping mess he had made you. He would have loved to stay like this forever, watching you become more and more wrecked beneath his tongue, the want, no, need, to be buried inside your heat, getting lost in your wetness and warmth, savoring in the way no one else would ever be able to have you like he did, to know that you were his.

Javi worked in a determined silence, rusting with his belt buckle until the metal clangs of it opening had his pants and boxers in a puddle around his ankles, splaying kisses across your neck as he slid you towards the edge of the counter, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising intensity. He stroked himself a few times as he lined his cock up with your entrance, guiding his tip through the glistening arousal covering your folds, leaving his dick shiny with your slick as you whimpered into his skin.

“Javi… Please, baby. I need you.” You whimpered, instinctively bucking your hips towards him, desperately craving him to ease the achy emptiness between your legs.

Resting his forehead against yours, the dark, damp curls of his hair brushed your skin, the hot and heavy heat of each of your shaky breaths melting into one another’s as your lips ghosted his, only fully meeting yours to catch the moan that had escaped your mouth as he pushed himself into your heat, letting himself bottom out, his tip brushing against your cervix. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around the small of his back and drape your arms over his shoulders, desperate to have your bodies needily tangled and intertwined together as you savored in the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness.

He began to rock his hips, letting his cock drag in and out of your cunt, taking his time with each stroke, the movement making you dig your fingernails into the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscular back, in turn, making the grip he had around your waist even tighter, his fingers buried in the soft flesh of your stomach where his hands had crept under your dress.

The way he punched up into you, perfectly pounding against your g-spot with each thrust, combined with the way the hairs at his base rubbed along your clit, already had the inevitable coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him.

Each stroke seemed to become deeper and fuller than the last, Javi’s pace now climbing in speed and intensity as he felt your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing that familiar feeling meant you were coming closer to your end. You could barely muster anything but a whimper, your soft pleads and begs going straight to his dick as he slid and out of your wet heat.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.”

The lewd sounds of skin hitting skin and low, ragged moans echoed against the bare walls of your unfinished kitchen as Javi fucked deeper and deeper into you, singing sweet, soft praises against your skin between locking your lips with yours.

“Fuck- Dámelo, Hermosa (Give it to me, beautiful). Need to feel you soak my cock before I fuck you full of me. It’s okay mi amor- mierda- té tengo. (my love- shit- I’ve got you.) I’ve always got you. Forever.”

You could feel your legs lock even tighter around Javi’s waist as heat began to bloom in your belly, only needing a few more thrusts as you rolled your hips against his before your mind went blank and vision went white, your orgasm crashing through your body and flooding every inch of you with pleasure so intense, you could feel yourself going limp in his grasp.

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-ahhhhhhhh-” You whimpered as Javi fucked you through your high, now desperate to chase his own as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, pounding into you as your walls gripped around his cock like a vice. Your warmth and wetness consumed him, only needing a few more pumps before he could feel himself following suit, hissing through gritted teeth as incoherent babbles spilled from his lips.

“There it is, baby. Fuck- fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you so much, Osita. Con todo mi corazón. (With my whole heart). Oh fuck- I’m yours forever. Oh shit, I’m gonna cum to, oh fuckkkkkk.”

With one last thrust, Javi finished buried deep inside you, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as a slick mixture of spend leaked down your thighs, leaving him panting while he slumped into your shoulder, his chest heaving with labored breaths, trying to compose himself. Bracing himself with one palm flat against the counter next to your hip, his other hand reached up to your face, brushing away a piece of stray hair back into place before gently cupping your cheek as he spoke.

“Osita, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I just- fuck- I’ve never been so sure of anything, but when we were at golf today, Steve brought up Lorraine, and I- I just was so scared I was gonna fuck everything up again, and I-”

“Oh God, he brought up Lorraine?! Jesus. I knew it. I knew this was Steve’s fucking fault.” You sighed, quietly laughing to yourself as you shook your head.

“Wait, how did you-”

“Because it just seemed so strange that you were acting like this all of a sudden. You got back from golfing with him and it was like you were a different person. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was freaked out and panicking wondering what happened because you’ve never acted like that before. That, and because I love Steve, but he’s an idiot.” The two of you were both now laughing, Javi rubbing his hand over his face before rolling his eyes, wondering to himself how he had really let his friend’s stupid comment get the best of him.

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I should have just ignored it, I just hadn’t thought about it in so long and I was so terrified to mess everything up again. It would kill me to hurt you like that.” His thumb circled around your cheek as he tilted your gaze to meet his, sincerity and remorse swirling in the dark pools of his chocolate brown eyes.

“Javi, listen, if this is moving too fast, or it’s too much for you, I want you to be able to tell me, I understand if-” Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s lips were planted tenderly against yours, pulling away from your mouth with a goofy grin and satisfied sigh.

“I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to marry you,” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek, “I can’t wait to live in our new house with you,” he grinned, planting another ticklish kiss on your neck, “I can’t wait until we can finally start filling up these empty rooms with little baby Peñas” Javi chuckled, now peppering kisses all over your body, making you erupt in a fit of laughter and giggles, squirming and flailing in his grasp, playfully swatting at him. “I can’t wait to spend every day for the rest of my life with the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked, tilting his head to let your mouths meet again, this kiss filled with a tender passion and intensity unmatched by his previous playful ones.

It was the kind of kiss that said all of the things that words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach like the first kiss you had shared in Maria’s bathroom almost a year ago. The kind of kiss that made you fall even deeper in love with him, even when you thought you couldn’t.

It was also the kind of kiss where everything else in the world seemed to melt away and make time stand still, a kiss that you could have stayed lost in forever… unless a certain someone hadn’t forgotten his wallet at your house and needed to come back and get it.

You were so oblivious to anything else happening around you, that neither you or Javi had heard your front door open, followed by the rushed, impatient footsteps of Steve and Connie, arguing about where Steve could have left his wallet, and how on earth he could have left without realizing it was missing from its usual home in his back pocket.

“Seriously, Steve, I can’t believe we’re gonna waste a whole hour having to turn around and come back here because you couldn’t remember your wallet!”

“Con, I told you, it’s right on the counter, I know where it is, lemme just go grab it really quick and then we ca- Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve shouted, walking into the kitchen to see you and Javi making out on your island, your dress pushed up well past your legs, and Javi’s bare ass on display from his pants still pooling around his ankles.

“Ahhhhh!” You and Javi shrieked, practically jumping out of your skin to see Steve’s tall and lanky frame frozen in your kitchen, now scrambling to try and fix your clothes and hair to try and save yourselves at least some dignity.

“What the hell are you two doin’?!” Steve grimaced, trying not to cackle to himself as Connie rushed up behind him to see what was happening, only to very quickly cover her eyes and turn away from you and Javi.

“Us?! What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you ever heard of fucking knocking, Murph?!” Javi groaned, shuffling his pants back up and fixing his hair before helping you off the counter, trying your best to hide your beet red, embarrassed face.

“I forgot my wallet! Forgive me for thinkin’ you two would keep your hands off each other for long enough to let me come pick it up in peace.” Steve frowned, raising up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry! I told him to call you to let you know he was coming to pick it up, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” Connie scolded, giving Steve a forceful nudge of her elbow before finally turning back around to face you and Javi, knowing you were at least halfway decent. “God, I love you, but you are an idiot.”

“You can say that again…” You snickered under your breath, just loud enough to make Javi and Connie join in your laughter, leaving Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Hey, listen. Call me what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be callin’ me an idiot when you need me to come babysit your 47 kids so the two of you can get some…” He paused gesturing to you and Javi’s disheveled state, “... time to yourselves. Like I said earlier, y’all gotta lot of rooms to fill, and I don’t think you’re gonna have any problem doin’ it.”

And for as much as you wanted to give Steve the ten pounds of shit he deserved, as you looked up at Javi standing next to you, you couldn’t really even bring yourself to be mad. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was him- the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The one who was your future, the one who stood with you through every twist and turn, the one who was your home. What started as a day that had you questioning everything had turned into one that had never made you feel more assured. You knew that Javier Peña loved you more than life itself, and you knew that you were so lucky to spend the rest of your life getting to prove to him over and over that you loved him just as much.

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fariesoiree · 5 months

Text

it’s completely normal to have a disagreement with your boyfriend but hobie cannot understand why you’d resort to the silent treatment.

caution! mdni 4.5k wrdz, angst to smut pipeline, brat reader, oral ( r. receiving ), fingering ( r. receiving ) pet names, gwen makes an appearance, hobie smokes weed reference, partially unedited pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

you’re not entirely sure how it happened. or rather, you’re just not ready to admit it, yet. you suppose it really started before you met up with hobie, having woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

everything pissed you off today. the way the outfit you planned looked terrible on you, showing up late to class, getting yelled at by customers at work. every event just piled right on top of each other and made you feel a thousand times worse.

you only made it halfway through the day before a grimace etched itself on your face and your words became short and curt.

the cherry on top was when you planned to lay in the comfort of your bed, only to find yourself whisked away to hobie’s houseboat.

he seemed so happy with his proposition for you to meet a friend of his who just happened to be in town. you couldn’t say no despite so desperately wanting to. when would there ever be a chance that his friend would be back and he’d be this happy to tell you?

and with your terrible mood, your usual demeanor was replaced with something much colder. instead of engaging in the conversation between hobie and gwen, you sit silently in the corner.

your knees are pulled into your chest and you fiddle with the seams of your socks. each sonorous laugh has your teeth grinding. you haven’t uttered much more than a few sentences, wondering when you’re going to be able to make your escape back home.

you miss hobie’s curious peeks. it’s so blaringly obvious that you’re not feeling like yourself. if your silence didn’t give it away, your lack of affection definitely did.

you didn’t squeeze him tight in a hug the moment he showed up at your door. there was no rambling of your day, no kisses and giggles that follow. all the usual bits he loves and look forward to never came and on top of that, he gets the odd feeling you’ve been avoiding his touch since you got there. it makes his stomach twist in knots.

“gwendy,” he says with his eyes darting towards you.

you’re oblivious, nails scraping against the divets and curves in the fabric of his small sofa.

“i’m off to get a drink. want somethin’?”

“i’m good. thanks, though, hobes.” gwen shakes her head with a smile. she’s also just as clueless. having this being her first time meeting you, she just assumes you’re always like this and there’s nothing wrong with being quiet, albeit the way you do it makes her feel a bit uncomfortable.

you press your lips into your knees to hide your scoff. “ ‘hobes’,” you mouth, picking at a thread. it’s such a minuscule detail, one that you’ve repeated overlooked in the past. never has it been anything but a friendly nickname but in your miffed state, it’s a sign of betrayal.

hobie doesn’t need a sixth sense to know there’s an obscure issue. he’s known you long enough to know when you’re irked and how he has to force it out of you.

for your sake and not wanting to draw attention to the situation, he strolls into the kitchen. his slides scrape against the floor. the sound is like nails on a chalkboard and has your face scrunching up.

with just you and gwen left, the silence is deafening. most of the conversation had been with hobie and nothing changed your unwillingness to talk. still, gwen felt the need to try. whether she wanted to relate to another girl or make a good impression is unknown.

“so . . . you and hobie, huh?”

you consider ignoring her but guilt blooms across your skin. even if your worst mood, a small remnant of your manners remain. not enough to make you pleasant, though. “mhm.” you hum, not bothering to look in her direction.

next to you, your phone vibrates to reveal a text. you sit up just enough to lean over it and the screen unlocks after recognizing your face. you’re not dumbfounded that it’s the topic of the conversation himself, requesting your presence.

at some point he’d say something, that you know. doesn’t exactly make you feel any better about it. “i’ll be back,” you mumble, legs unfolding until you’re standing.

you’re not looking forward to the upcoming conversations but you shuffle forward, regardless. your arms are already crossed when you stand in front of him. this is the first time you’re truly looking at him since you got here and your expression is so frigid.

“what’s up with you?” hobie leans against the counter, his arms crossed and mirroring yours. “been pissy all day.”

you know he’s seriously waiting for an answer when he’s unaffected by the eye rolls that follow. “nothing’s wrong. i’m not anything.”

“you’re really goin’ to stand there and tell me there’s nothin’ goin’ on when you’re actin’ like that? come out of it.”

you dodge his narrowing gaze by staring at the kitchen sink instead. your lips are pressed together and your thoughts move at a hundred miles an hour, searching for the perfect method to dissipate this conversation. “i’m fine. there’s nothing going on.”

“then that’s worse,” hobie eyes you down. it makes you feel small, the way his head is tilted and bordering a correctional glare. “then you’re jus’ being mean for no reason.”

“i’m not being mean. i just don’t feel like talking.” it’s not completely a lie. you don’t feel like talking, that’s true, but you’ve also purposefully been abhorrent so you’d have an excuse to leave.

he looks at you incredulously, scrambling to stand and motioning towards gwen’s direction. “you’re not being mean? so you haven’t said a word to gwen and barely two words to me because you ‘don’t feel like talking’.”

“yes. exactly.” you can already tell this isn’t going to end well. not with the way your chest burns with an angry fire. “that’s what i just said.”

hobie feels like he’s talking to a wall with the way you dismiss everything he says. “darlin’, i’m really, really trying not to cause a scene right now but you’re makin’ it harder than it needs to be.” with a hand on your shoulder, he guides you farther back into the kitchen. his patience is wavering, he can feel it. it’s becoming progressively more difficult to maintain his cool. “it doesn’t take fuckin’ einstein to know there’s somethin’ up.”

“you’re trying not to make a scene but you just cussed at me.” you grumble, dragging your feet until you’re stationed next to the glass door.

“i did not – ” he has to stop and take a breath, noticing the crescendo in his voice. “ ☆ , what is wrong with you? your mood is poor and you aren’t even speaking to gwen, which is the whole reason i wanted you to come.”

you glare off the porch, watching the water lap and crash against each other. between everything he said, all you got is he’s prioritizing another girl over you. in your spoiled brain, he should never be scolding you about this. “oh, i’m sorry if i’m making you and gwendy uncomfortable. maybe it would be best if i go.”

“do not do that.” he points at you, thumb facing the ceiling. “do not turn this into something it isn’t.” his restraint officially snapped, words dripping with venom. “everyone is being nothing but nice. you’re the only one here that has an issue. i only asked you what’s wrong because i care about you. stop acting like a – ” hobie pauses again, eyes closing in frustration. “whatever. i’m over it. do what you want.” he waves it off and turns on his heel. he would have considered that a win, had you not stopped him.

“no, say it. call me what you were going to call me.” you dart in front of him, hands on your hips. you should have stopped, let the argument vanish into nothing but you couldn’t help yourself. you had already committed yourself to it.

“just let it go.” hobie attempts to side step you, only for you to stand in front of him again. he has no interest in playing your games so he waits at a standstill. “i don’t want to hurt your feelings and i don’t want to argue. let it go, ☆ .”

“say it,” you insist. you have your head tilted up, basically pressed all up against him. you’re daring him, as if he won’t do it and you don’t expect him to. not once can you remember hobie ever calling you anything but endearing names.

he sucks his teeth and takes a step away from you. you’re unhinged, he decides. daily stress has finally gotten to you and you’ve gone off the rails. “i’m going to say this once and i mean this when i say it. you need to go the fuck home and get your shit together. honestly, love, this is unacceptable and i’m not takin’ this disrespect in my house.”

you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home a while before this but you wanted to go on your own accord. you weren’t supposed to go back and forth like this and he wasn’t supposed to kick you out. “you’re joking, right? hobie, you brought me here. how am i supposed to get home?”

it’s a well known fact that hobie prefers to take the unconventional routes. he’d rather swing than walk and walk than drive. even when it comes to you, he’s always willing to be your transportation so you aren’t driving or being driven around. so when he pulls out his phone and promptly sends you enough money to get an Uber, it truly cements how sincere he is. “go home, lovely. i’ll come by later and we can try this again.”

“ ‘bie,” you sniffle, eyes welling with tears. not only is he kicking you out but he’s also sending you home.

“go home,” he repeats. his parting gift is a pat on the head before he walks past you. you’re unsure whether or not he really saw how distraught you felt but you doubt it would make a difference.

you’re too embarrassed to show your face so you take the back way, exiting through the porch by the kitchen. you circle the boat until reaching the dock and step off, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

it’s unbelievable that your sweet, darling hobie would do this to you. granted, you deserved it and technically got what you wanted.

still, you can’t stop your tears from flowing the whole way home, even up through the lobby of your apartment and into your room. the warmth of your bed is just as you imagined, although now bittersweet.

your eyes are puffy and hurting. you fight the urge to let them close and scroll through your phone. most of the reasoning behind was to see if hobie would text you at all but your notifications remained empty. it stings more than you imagined. he’s always always texted you to make sure you’ve gotten in your room safely.

“whatever,” you toss your phone onto the other side of the bed and roll over. “i don’t need you. enjoy your date with gwendy, hoe.” you mumble into your pillow. you huff, pulling the covers up to your chin. if hobie wants to be like that then fine. he can do what he wants.

LINE BREAK

you stir awake to the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut. you’d be worried if the familiar smell of pine and weed didn’t fill the air. it’s subtle but you know him too well to be wrong.

you reach for your phone, feeling around in the bed until the cool glass meets your palm. the bright screen reads midnight and entirely too far past his normal arrival time.

“you stink,” you mumble when he gets into bed beside you. he has his own bed but he’s so accustomed to you and your warmth, hobie can’t help but make his way to wherever you are.

“don’t kill my high.” his gruff whisper fills your ear. he slips his arm between you and the mattress to pull you into his chest. “sent gwen off and came here. didn’t have time to enjoy it, yet.”

you purse your lips, flashbacks of earlier in the day coming flooding in. your nap nearly wiped all those memories away. he just said to bring it up, again. and right on cue —

“feelin’ better?” he splays his over your tummy and brushes his thumb back and forth along your skin. “we can talk about it, again.”

you don’t respond, too busy feeling crossed. it would be best to reopen the discussion now that your emotions aren’t running as high but you’re too petty to do that. hobie wronged you. he started an argument and kicked you out. he didn’t even check to see if you made it home safe.

“lovey? you okay?” he taps his fingers against you. maybe you fell asleep on him.

nothing.

hobie sits up. you can feel his weight shift as he peers over your body. your eyes are open and he can see you looking at him, you’re just not speaking. he raises a brow and pushes your shoulder over until you’re on your back with a clear view of each other. “do you hear me talkin’ to you or what?”

he’s peeved when you roll over without even acknowledging him. “absolutely fuckin’ not.” he pushes your shoulder down again and holds it there. “you givin’ me the silent treatment?”

you shrug.

you fucking shrug.

hobie considers himself a rational person. if he’s upset, he’ll talk about it. if he’s not ready to talk about it, he’ll let you know. if he notices you’re too upset to communicate efficiently, he’ll give you space. what he will not tolerate is bullshit like this. you’re ignoring him, purposefully not saying anything and he’s expected to take it?

“i’m talkin’ to you.” he squishes your cheeks is his hand until they pucker, eyes narrowed into slits. he doesn’t know what your problem is but he’s sure if you continue like this, he’ll snap the world in half.

you pull away from him, reeling your head back until it’s out of his grasp. with you’re newfound freedom, you roll over and tap your phone. it’s now half past midnight and you’re losing hours on sleep.

hobie watches, enraged, as you slide it beside your pillow and snuggle deeper into the comfort of your bed. he doesn’t move, still processing his emotions. what he wants to do is pull you into his lap and keep you up all night until you speak to him but he figures it just make you more irritable.

so he scoffs and lays back down beside you. “okay. throw your tantrum. we’ll talk in the morning.” he pulls you into his chest, regardless, fingers curling around your waist. his lips are pressed together and by your ear.

he’s hopeful that in the morning, this mood you’re in will pass. that’s the notion he holds on to while he drifts off into his slumber and the same one he wakes up to when he’s reaching for your missing body.

the sun is up and beaming through the sheer layer of curtains. you must have opened the blackout layer behind them. he can hear the shower water running to a stop. hobie rubs his eyes and pulls his arm over his head for a stretch.

it’s a bit odd, he thinks, that you’ve woken up without him. he doesn’t think you’ve rolled over and pressed soft kisses on his face until he’s waking. maybe you did and he went back to sleep.

his legs carry himself into the bathroom where you reside. he’s operating off your normal schedule, getting ready together. he’s surprised when he turns the handle, only for it to fall short. “the door is locked, sweetheart.”

hobie leans against the frame. he’s tall enough to take up the entirety of the space. his hand comes up to rub his face once before he realizes the amount of time that’s passing right now. he can hear you in there, hear the water in the sink running but you don’t open the door.

his first thought it maybe you just can’t open it right now.

he, however, comes to his second thought when you do open it and scroll right past him without one glance in his direction.

you’re still ignoring him.

“oi duck, here’s what’s going to happen.” hobie knows you’re listening when you pause, hand freezing at the lotion pump. “i’m going to go brush my teeth, yeah? and you’re going to get over this thing you’re in and when i come back, we’re going to sit down and talk about this like adults.”

what he doesn’t know is the insinuation you’re not acting like an adult sends you farther into you stubbornness. to be truthful, he’s not wrong. you’re only doing this to make a point, to stick it to him that you didn’t appreciate what he did to you

you scoff to yourself and have a seat at your vanity. “who does he think he is?” you mumble, unscrewing the lid to your toner. “telling me what i’m gonna do. i’ll talk when i want to.”

you can see him in the mirror. with the bathroom door wide open, you get a perfect view of him slowly turning his head towards you, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

it dawns on you that he heard you when he’s hastily rinsing out his mouth. you jump to your feet so quickly, the chair nearly topples to the ground. you’re darting across the room on the way out.

you only make it halfway before a sticky web is wrapped around your waist and pulling you back to the center of the room.

“what’d you say, sweetheart?” hobie turns you around, hands planted firmly on your hips. his fingers dig into your skin as if ready to pull the answer out of you.

you persist with your silence even while your heart beats out of your chest. you avoid looking at him, instead staring at the the gleaming silver hoop pierced through his nose.

your refusal to say anything has him ticked off. you haven’t said a word to him since last night and the only time you’ve even acknowledged him is to talk shit.

hobie isn’t having that.

he doesn’t bother to ask you again. he picks you up easy, a hand wrapped around your waist. he considers himself to be patient, letting you have your fun. he didn’t say anything to you last night, he forgave you for trying to incite an argument, he was even giving you another chance and was willing to work through it.

it’s you who’s making it difficult, uncooperating like a unreasonable person. you won’t even tell him why. how is he supposed to mend the situation if he doesn’t know what the problem is?

“you’re pissin’ me off.” he drops you on the edge of the bed. his talk could be mistaken as directed towards you but in actuality, he’s ranting to himself. “so spoiled y’know? throwing a fit for no reason.”

you freeze when he hooks his fingers inside the waistband of your shorts. your instincts are screaming at you to whine and complain but your intransigency is too focused on making a point.

“i’m so gentle with you and you take me for granted. showed up mad and that’s my fault? should have just told me but that’s too much to ask.”

a sharp gasp is ripped from you when hobie rips your panties off you. the seams pop and snap under the stress of his rapid tug.

he pushes you back and down on the bed with a large hand on your chest. “to be frank, i don’t want to see you. i don’t want to hear you either unless you’re gonna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.”

you’re tempted to protest, already preparing to draw away from him but hobie beats you to it. he pins your waist down and peels your folds apart. he licks a stripe up your cunt, spit dribbling and mixing with your juices.

you keen, back lifting off your bed. it’s sickening how his knowledge of your body is affecting you this time. usually, it would entail the best orgasm of your life but now it meant you’d be eternally suffering.

he pushes your back down with a grunt. it’s as if every little movement you did only sent hobie father off the edge.

he pushes your leg up by the underside of your thigh until your knee is pressing against your chest. hobie’s nose bumps against your clit and his tongue probs at the walls of your slit.

“fuck! that’s so – ” your scream is cut short by a gulp of air. your hand reaches down to grasp hobie’s wicks, only for him to swat you hand away.

you cum rather quickly, pussy throbbing from the stimulation. by the time you’re sitting up, hobie is staring at you with half lidded eyes. he has yet to remove his grip, lips glistening from your arousal.

neither of you speak, the air growing thicker with tension. your gaze darts between both of hobie’s peering brown eyes before you turn your head away with a huff.

the smack of hobie’s hand against your thigh rings in the air. his demands for your attention has you whining. your skin blooms with a stinging pain, only for it to be followed by another. you’re not moving fast enough for him.

only when your eyes lock does he lightly trace his fingers over your skin. hobie, however, has no plans in letting up with his lesson. he thumbs at the hood of your clit, pulling it back until the puffy bundle is nerves is revealed.

so badly does he want to coo his praise but every time he thinks about how you treated him, his heart burns just the same.

you struggle against his grasp to clamp your legs shut when he wraps his tongue around it. thanks to his hands anchoring you in place, you’re forced to endure all of it.

you twitch and tweak, hands curling around the fabric of your shirt. this is wild, you think, all to get an answer out of you. the deep, docile part of your brain is ready to do whatever he asks to get the soft touches and sweet names, again.

“ ‘bie,” you mewl, reaching out for him again.

“ready to talk?” hobie lifts his head, replacing his tongue with his thumb, performing tiny circles. he’s disappointed when he’s listening to your moans and hums instead of a explanation. how long will you continue to do this?

he drives his fingers into your cunt, a sigh fanning over you skin leaving it hot and sticky with your cum. “you’re being such a brat today. how hard is it to open your fuckin’ mouth?”

he’s relentless with it, routinely pressing his fingers against the spot that has you crying. he tunes out your warbling, sucking in a breath. “can’t believe you tried to make it about gwen knowing damn well this is your problem.”

his words go straight to your cunt. it’s unexpected, the way you tighten and gush. you’re humiliated and even more so when hobie scoffs. “no chance you’re getting off on this.”

your body tenses, coiling in on itself. your chest rises with one final heave before your cunt is spasming around his fingers. hobie doesn’t cut back, head tilted as you wail.

“why aren’t you talking to me?” he fingerfucks you past your orgasm. he’s unaffected by your squirming to get away from him, pulling you back by your waist.

“it’s too much,” you sob, hand pushing at his.

“that’s not what i asked,” hobie shoves your hand away for the second time that morning. he’s fed up. his hand pops down on your cunny, ogling at the shining cream pouring out.

“ ‘cause,” the tears spill over your waterline and cascade down your face.

“ ‘cause what?” hobie finally removes his hold on you and takes his place next to you in the bed. he pulls your putty body into his lap, a hand on your chins to direct your attention.

you sniffle, lips trembling. you’re hesitating, already knowing how he’s going to react. forming a verbal reason makes you realize how immature you’ve been.

“angel,” his voice is heavy with a warning. you can feel the heat of his fingers slot their way beneath you.

your expression immediately contorts at the feeling of your sensitive nerves being stimulated. “ ‘cause,” you scramble for words, shifting until you can no longer feel him. “i don’t know.”

his fingers find their place again, this time pushing back into you with seething annoyance. “you . . . don’t know? so you did all that ‘cause you don’t know?”

they move slowly. slow enough to draw out soft pants and keep you talking. “i –,” you hiccup, “was upset.” you find yourself chewing on your bottom lip. there is no reasonable excuse. he’s about to that find out.

“mhm,” hobie hums, still dissatisfied with your words. “and did that have anything to do with me?” he feels the answer is obvious but there’s always some gratification in hearing you say it.

your head shakes in a tiny swivel. your hands clench into fists and quiver. having being toyed with for so long, hobie could spit on your cunt and you’d cum. when he’s pressing your spot like this, you’re nearly spilling out your arousal.

“didn’t think so.” hobie pressed his lips into a firm line. he takes pity when you lean your weight against him at the feeling of his digits pump in your tight hole.

his poor girl can’t even sit up on her own. she’s having to resort to using him to hold her up. of course it’s entirely your fault but at least you admitted it.

“that’s all you head do to, love. all this is unnecessary,” hobie mumbles underneath your whimpers.

there’s a soothing hand circling your hip through your orgasm. he listens to your babbling with soft shushes and promises of relief.

all he really wanted was to get the explanation out of you. to begin the start of conversation. hobie knew he could do it. after all, you’re his sweet girl. his ray of sunshine.

when your pants turn into into soft heaves is when hobie lifts your head, held in the palm of his hand. “listen to me, ducky.” he’s firm, eyes narrowed. “never ever do that again, you hear me? you have a problem, you talk about it.”

your half lidded eyes are full of passivity and you nod. you’re resting against him, pleased when hobie’s long arms envelop you in a warm embrace. “ ‘m sorry, hobie. i really am. i didn’t mean it.”

his hands run along your spine and be pressed a kiss atop your head. “i know, dolly. i know.”

#࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#another bad ending ughhh #but it’s done so there’s your gift c:#come get yall juice #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #hobie x reader #x reader #hobie x y/n

377 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 10 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter I : Apollo

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: The creation of myth.

Content Warnings: Dominant Din Djarin; Unprotected sex; Creampie;Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Overstimulation; Spanking; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hello, friends, and welcome to the new story!

A few notes: We are starting prior to season one’s canon, and I am doing what I want and making it so that Din already knows about the Force and the Jedi. I make free use of canon and the timeline in whatever way I see fit to suit my own horny purposes, sorry. If things aren’t canon or don’t make sense pls don’t tell me. I am naught but a fragile flower who wilts under harsh criticism.

Please note as well, that I do describe the FMC as having two different colored eyes although I do not specify what color they are.

Also, I will be updating the tags as we go along so as to avoid spoiling too much too early on.

Thank you and enjoy!

Word count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

PART I

CHAPTER I : APOLLO

Is it a god inside you, girl?

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

The first time you meet, he’s sitting in the corner of the shithole cantina on the shithole backwater planet you currently find yourself on: Nevarro. Sometimes you were wont to flight – in search of a nowhere place in the middle of a nowhere part of the galaxy to lose yourself. And the barren landscape of the volcanic planet, a broken star of red, the only interruption in the black field of ash, no wind, no life, no sound; it provides the perfect environment for getting lost when necessary.

And then one day, unexpectedly: him. He is a shining, metallic, mountain of a man.

Mandalorian.

Whenever you’d felt too suffocated, strangulated, in need of a moment, a breather, a reprieve from the reality of what you were… what you are becoming – this place is enough of nothing to be just the perfect something. When you’re not busy flitting from planet to planet, sector to sector, looking for something to fill the gnawing void within you. Before landing here, you’d been on Sorgan for a time. It’d been… nice… peaceful, or whatever approximation of peace you could partially recognize after an existence such as that which you were currently trying to run from. A temperate climate, kind people, but after a while, you’d happened upon a community one day, and they’d been so… so together, so familiar. Happy, they’d be so openly, unabashedly, uncomplicatedly happy. It was simple, and it had made a terrible lance of poisonous jealousy roil through you. Jealousy and anger and bitterness and a loneliness so painful that you’d had to flee, as far and as fast as you could from the reflection of all your envy and shame. And so you’d come here instead, to Nevarro. A more barren, emptier sort of place – better suited to your ilk.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” you croon up at him, smoothly sliding into the booth he’s currently occupying in the furthest dark corner of the cantina, only the gleaming silver crescent of the curve of his helmet visible from the other side of the room.

This is the first of many lies you will tell him.

No response. Only the dark, yawning pit of his visor faced slightly away from you.

The stark curve of his helmet gleams brightly. Beautiful. He looks strong, thickly built. His shoulders, so broad. The armor adorning his torso is beaten and worn, and yet, there’s something so… what’s the word? Lived, perhaps, about the facade of him. This is a creature who has lived – who has seen things, who has battled and survived and most assuredly killed.

Maybe a little like you, but good. For this you know with certainty about Mandalorians – a flash of a pained scream, beskar crumbling beneath the force of you, for not even what could be considered the most endurable alloy in the galaxy could withstand something of your nature, blood, so much blood, and the sound of such defeat as you do the unforgivable– they are good and honorable and worthy – great warriors. But perhaps, on the surface, with a face of shared, painful history, of survival, maybe there are some things between the two of you which could be called similar.

“I’ve always been curious, though… Always wanted to meet one.” You sidle closer to him. There’s something about him, the weapons, the breadth of his shoulders, the silence, which starts a chilled little shiver of fear that flashes and coalesces into something hotter and wetter deep in your belly, the closer you get to him. And the feeling of it – of apprehension, of standing in the presence of something other, something that could perhaps best, even you, it is exciting and arousing and different to everything else you’ve ever encountered.

Still no response.

“You’re hard to come by now. Not many of you left, right?” A curdle of shame and regret hidden beneath your wry tone, “A girl’s got to get extra lucky to find something as interesting as you nowadays… something as pretty too.”

He does react to this, finally, and a little shock of victory fizzes in your belly at the fact that he’s at last deigned to give you even a semblance of his attention, for you are desperately in want of it, as he turns his helmet the fraction of an inch in your direction at the sound of you calling him pretty. So, it seems even a Mandalorian is victim to vanity.

“Oh, so you can hear under there,” you quip, “I was beginning to worry…”

And then his voice, deep, and of potentially the lowest and smoothest baritone you’ve ever heard, comes through the modulator, “I can hear.” Clipped, and even maybe, a little cold.

“And he speaks too!” He flexes open the fingers of the gloved hand that lays on the table. You’re annoying him. “How exciting.” You cross one knee over the other, elbow propped up on the edge of the table and chin cupped in your palm, looking up at him. He’s tall, even sitting. Your joint presses into the hard muscle of his thigh, and you feel him scoot just the tiniest bit away from you. You have the uncontrollable urge to snap your teeth at him. You must surely be at least half his size, especially with all that beskar covering him. Don’t act so scared, big, bad Mandalorian. I’m just a little girl. You don’t know what I actually am.

Helmet now turned entirely in your direction to keep an eye on you, he says, “What are you?” Or… whoops, maybe he does know.

You ignore his question. “You know, I met a whore once – who claimed she’d fucked a Mandalorian. Is it true you just pull out the important bits and get on with it? Seems a bit cold, no? Even for a paid fuck?” He jolts a little at your vulgarity, and you flash him a wide grin, wriggle one delicate eyebrow provocatively. “No game?”

He turns his body to face you more fully now too, his thigh pressing into yours once again as he takes you on directly. Perhaps a warrior's instinct that can sense he is not in the presence of something to be trifled with. The helmet cocks slowly to the side. Silent, silent. Not one for many words this Mandalorian, although, it seems you’ve provoked him now.

“What are you?” he says again, voice measured.

“How do you mean?” You let your voice end on an upward lilt, and he shifts minutely, as if agitated at your uncooperativeness.

“You’re not– I don’t–” The helmet tilts the other way as if inspecting you, and you cut him off before he can finish.

“Oh, so many things.” You roll your hand on your wrist in a fluttering wave, tapping your fingers quickly against your thumb one by one, flexing a muscle you’ve not allowed yourself to use in a while and repressing it, all at once. You’re watching him so closely you see the small pivot of his neck to glance at your hand, and then back to your face. “Who can keep track anymore? So many strange creatures roaming the galaxy after the fall of everything. The Empire. We’re all just madly careening around as whatever the moment requires of us, aren’t we?” He’s quiet, still inspecting you, and you feel his gaze like a brand on the skin of your face. Like fire, like something that you remember from a nightmare, and that you think should be painful, but now only feels exciting. “So, what are you, Mandalorian? What does the present moment require of you?”

He goes silent again, and you watch the subtle downward tilt of his helmet as he inspects the length of you. You wish you could see if he was ogling the tight swell of your breasts beneath your dark clothes. You tilt your head side to side, smile big at him again, and you’re pretty sure you hear an agitated little huff of annoyance slip through the modulator.

And then: “I’m not interested.” He turns back to face away from you, both fists now firmly planted on the table’s surface, clenched into tight balls of clear annoyance. “Go away.”

Oh, he’s funny too. You throw your head back in a quick laugh, “Did I offer something?”

Silence.

“Dirty mind, Mandalorian.” You drag the vowels out to irk him just that extra bit more. “What? Just because I made one little mention of a whore means that, I too, must be peddling my wares?” And you knock your knee into his beskar clad thigh again. He scoots a smidge away from you, and you follow him, laughing again. Oh, you really should stop provoking him, but it’s just turning out to be too much fun. And you’d been watching him for weeks now, every time he came in here for a new bounty puck. You’d so wanted to talk to him, had snooped around to find out he’s in the Guild, and now you finally are. It was just too much for a girl who had too much time on her hands, and too many ugly thoughts she’d rather forget, roaming around in her mind, to look away from a moment of distraction such as this.

“Stop,” and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

You snicker. “Stop what?” in a sing-songed lilt that you know must be grinding his gears. Poor, shiny Mandalorian.

“Whatever it is you’re doing – speaking to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something from me.”

“What could I possibly want from you?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Who’s the one peddling their wares now, Mandalorian, hmm?” He says nothing now, and you know you’re pushing him, you can see the vibration of his restrained agitation in the lines of his thick arms, but there is something needling and annoying and obnoxious inside of you that wants his attention, that wants to incite him. And so you make a mistake that perhaps, is not a mistake at all, but a call for something more, for a reaction from him because as you slowly start to lift a single finger up towards the curve of his helmet, you say, “Tell me, what do you have to offer?” At the same time, he pivots and snaps up to grasp the thin of your wrist in a bone crushing grip as you’re about to make contact with the smooth surface of the gleaming beskar helmet. And you know you were asking for it, that you should never have even insinuated that you were going to touch a Mandalorian’s helmet, and that this is only your own doing, but as his harsh strength makes contact with you, so unexpectedly, he’s so fast, that you’re caught almost entirely unaware, you react on pure instinct. A reflex so embedded into the deepest and most poisoned recesses of your mind, that despite the fact that you know this is the last sort of reaction you should exhibit, that above all else you needed to keep this part of yourself hidden and secreted away from the rest of the galaxy, you can’t help yourself when, at the moment that his crushing strength slams your hand back down onto the table, twisting painfully so that you’re crying out in shock and hurt, you weren’t going to do anything to him, you just wanted to touch a little, you can’t help it when you let go of the reins on your power, and you feel the Force snap out of you like a band of rubber, to crack out and wrap around his arm and rip his painful grip away from you. Another inviolable tendril shoves against his chest plate to push him back. His movements, too abrupt, too unexpectedly aggressive to give you a moment to temper your reaction, to give you a chance to remind yourself that this is not one of your painful, dark memories, that you’re free, you’re free, you’re free, and suppress your reaction to not reveal yourself.

The two of you pause for one long moment, him by force, and you in shock and fear and slight nausea as you pant breathlessly. It’s been a long time since you’ve lashed out like this, since you’ve used the Force in front of another person, and the sensation of being perceived, of being seen for what you truly are is disequilibrating and terrifying and sickeningly liberating all at the same time.

One thick arm of his is held up and pinned against the back of the booth the two of you are ensconced in, hidden from prying eyes, at least. His legs start to shift restlessly, seeking purchase or trying to kick out, and you pin him there too, lest he try and hurt you again.

“I do not like to be handled so,” you admonish him, clicking your tongue. You can feel the seething fury rolling off him. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I am not going to do anything to you.” He’s got a blaster strapped into a holster at his thigh, and you’re sure his vambrace is hiding several other nasty tricks up his sleeve. You eye them both. “If I let you go, are you going to try and hurt me again?”

“No,” he growls out.

“No,” you mock back, but release him anyway, letting an impenetrable wall settle between the two of you. He immediately goes for his blaster, and you block his reach which has him furiously growling and lurching towards you, only to be met by the invisible Force impeding his attack. He spits a frustrated volley of curses in a language you can’t understand, but that you’re fairly certain is Mando’a.

“Ah, ah, no blaster,” you tut, and he settles, going suddenly, shockingly still, watching you watch him. “You really are quite poorly mannered and surly.” There’s a part of you that is still slightly unbalanced, heart beating painfully against the cage of your ribs, but you’re trying to hide it behind a wry smile and light tone. Echoes of pain and hurt and cruel and unyielding hands molding you into a thing that was just as cruel and unyielding. You cannot tolerate being handled like that anymore, and you feel contrite that you’d provoked him into doing so. Sometimes it is still difficult for you to remember how it is you’re supposed to behave around other people.

And then something you weren’t expecting, for he says, “You’re a Force weilder. You’re a Jedi.”

You let out a barking laugh. “What do you know of the Force?”

“Are you?” He presses.

“Yes, but no, definitely not that, no.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing. Or… whatever the opposite of a Jedi is, I suppose.”

“The opposite?” He shakes his head, “I don’t–”

“Hmm…” you cut him off, turning to make sure the two of you still haven’t been noticed. “Not anymore. I don’t use it anymore.”

“Oh, no?”

“Well… you’ve gone and ruined that now, haven’t you?”

“You started–”

“All I was trying to do,” you interrupt, “Was make nice. I’d always wanted to meet a Mandalorian,” Lie, “Haven’t you ever heard of a little flirting? And I fear, now, you’ve painted them all in a very poor light,” Lie, “Look at how rude you’ve gone and been, when all I wanted was to be friends,” Another lie, “A shame…” you heave a big sigh, “You really are very beautiful.” Truth. That fist clenches again, and you cock your head to the side, getting one last good look at him. You feel suddenly sad, you don't want to go. You’ve enjoyed this brief moment you’ve gotten to talk to him. Even if you’d gone and pissed him off and ruined it all now.

“It was nice meeting you, shiny. Even if you were an abominable beast about it.” You give him a nod of your head, and a quick two fingered salute before you’re sliding out of the enshroudment of the booth and slipping out the back of the cantina, into the dark alleyway, leaving him behind.

The last glimpse you catch of him out of the corner of your eye before the door shuts behind you, is the sight of him scrambling out of the booth and starting towards the door to follow after you.

A glutton for punishment, then, so it seems.

You flit through the dark, dirty alleys, scampering from shadow to shadow. The city streets around you, gone quiet now as the sun over Nevarro sets quickly, and you can feel him hunting after you. He’s strong, and you can almost feel the heavy weight of his life force even at a distance, almost as if the goodness and honesty of his character is a presence of its own, sentient in a way. And he’s angry, and you can feel that too, charging after you, provoked, even if he does it on entirely silent and measured feet. You can sense that ravenous curiosity and frustration at being bested and evaded pressing up against you, chasing after you. As if there were some dark red thread connecting the two of you from spine to rib bone, leading him to you, pulling him along your trail. You tiptoe the lines of the shadows silently, making your way through the winding city streets, feeling him getting closer and closer, trying to confuse him, even as he gains on you anyway.

And then he’s there.

You feel a massive hand, strong and sure, clamp around the back of your neck, but his touch is measured this time – he’d heeded your warning. His other hand wraps around the bend of your elbow, twisting your arm back behind you, and then he’s kicking open the nearest door, what seems to be some sort of storage alcove, the space dark and humid and mildewed, and pushing you inside. He shoves you away from him once you pass together into the darkness, and you catch yourself on the edge of what feels like some sort of table or workbench.

You laugh breathlessly. Overwhelmed by the thrill of the chase, of the feel of his hands on you, the surrounding darkness, the sound of his own panting breath through the modulator of his helmet. You hope he’s just as overwhelmed, disequilibrated, as you are now.

“Oh, you again?” you laugh, turning to face him, bracing yourself back against the table. All you can see of him is the silver crescent of the curve of his helmet, the outline of his wide shoulders in the dim light of the moon seeping in through the cracks of space around the door. He is a steel giant.“Did you forget something? Need me to hand your ass to you again, Mandalorian?”

“You’re a fucking brat. Anyone ever tell you that before?”

You gasp mockingly, “Me? Never.”

“Why is it that everything you say sounds vaguely like a taunt? Like you’re trying to provoke me.”

And, oh, he sounds just so unbearably serious and put out by you, that you pout, forced to match his serious tone with one of your own. You force the smile to leave your voice, “Maybe because I am,” and your voice goes quieter, softer, because again, truth. There is something about him that incites provocation, you want him rattled, come undone. “Maybe I want to see what happens when a man made of metal loses control.”

“I can’t – I don’t–” His voice, even through the modulator, is its own flavor of foreplay. “I don’t know…” he says again, whispers it, his tone seeping through the helmet, entirely uncertain, or at war with himself.

He takes one menacing step forward, made even all the more intimidating by the vast difference in your heights, the sheer breadth of him, the darkness wrapping around him so that all he’s made into are slivers of gleaming silver flame here and there. You feel the whisper of one leather covered finger skim lightly over the outside of your right forearm, another soft touch to the left side of your waist, and you shiver all over.

“Not a virgin? Your Creed lets you fuck?”

“No.”

“No, what? Use your words.”

Silence. Stubborn, silent, tin can.

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Whores?”

A grunt.

“Aha! Gotcha.” You start to toe your foot forward, bending your knee to make contact with him when you find his leg, tilting slightly away from the table so that you can slide your thigh between his legs. “Is that what you want me to be for you?”

“No.” Fucking monosyllabic–

“Then what do you want from me? Why did you follow me?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t lie.”

“I want to fuck you.” Your cunt goes soaked and tight at his words, because yes, yes yes, this is what you were leading him to. Finally, he’s caught on, and then he’s planting a strong, broad hand to the center of your chest and pushing you back into the table, and pressing the hard, unyielding length of himself against you. He’s hard and swollen beneath his pants, you can feel the thick heft of him against your belly as he presses into you, and you bring your palms up to slide against the unprotected sides of his strong waist, sending him into a full body shudder as you touch him, helmet falling forward on his neck as he hunches over you, hands planted on the table behind. You can hear his labored, panting breath huffing through the modulator as you run your hands along the planes of him. He’s huge, pure muscle beneath unrelenting beskar, and if you weren’t the creature that you are, you’d feel slightly frightened at the unbelievable strength he’s made up of. He is a thrumming effigy of restrained power beneath your hands, different to that which makes you up, and you feel the strength of him once again, humming through the Force. His light burns so bright, almost blindingly. He’s strong.

You slide one of your hands up his chest plate, tucking your fingers into the top-most edge to bring yourself up and closer to him as he curves over you, bending you back into an arch over the table’s edge. Your other hand reaches for his wrist braced against the table, wrapping around it, so thick your fingers don’t meet, to tuck your fingertips into the space where his sleeve meets his glove, and at the feel of your bare skin on his, just there, just there, he growls, deep and savage in his chest at the same time that you let out a breathy, warbled moan. His other hand shoots up to grasp at the small of your back and press you into him, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. He’s burning hot, sweltering, and he slides his palm lower, tilting your pelvis into his as you hitch one of your knees up the outside of his thigh to his hip, and then your cunt is rocking against the thick length of his cock, and another breathless, pained groan from the both of you as you make contact there, pushing and pulling against each other. You want to taste his skin, his tongue, you want to kiss him, to feel him licking into your mouth. You pull yourself in closer by the hand tucked into his chestplate to press your face into the warm space between his helmet’s edge and the folds of his cowl. He smells so good, like leather and sweat and metal. Something earthy and musky, something that proves to you that despite the beskar, there is only a man of flesh and blood and want beneath.

His palm slides to grip the lush of your ass, rolling you onto his length harder, pressing deeper as if he could fuck you through your clothes.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, little brat?” he pants, ending on a stuttered groan as you hook your calf around his waist and press your foot into the small of his back to grind particularly sharply onto him, pressing your clit into the edge of his utility belt, “Please, just– just–” you gasp, head falling back on your neck. And then he’s spinning you abruptly and pressing between your shoulder blades so that you're bent entirely over the table, cheek smushed against the hard surface. That wide palm slides down the slope of your spine, squeezes your asscheek harshly so that you’re moaning out in lust or pain, you can’t tell.

“Was that a yes? Who can’t use their words now?”

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” you grouch, but then his fingers have somehow snuck their way up beneath your tunic and under the edge of your trousers, and he’s ripping everything down to leave you bare and unprotected from the sudden onslaught of that huge expanse of leather clad palm cracking down painfully on the soft skin of your ass so that you’re scrambling to find the opposite end of the table to pull yourself away from him. A pathetic little screech claws its way out of you, and he wraps the length of your hair around his fist to pull your head back and up, turning you into his own little bow string, head resting back on the hard pauldron over his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? I caught you, you’re mine now.”

“Fuck off–” You try, but he clamps his fingers around your jaw, squeezing the fine bones of your face to cut you off, his other hand in your hair gives a sharp tug that makes the tips of your breasts go hot and tight and your cunt clench around nothing. You can feel yourself dripping down the insides of your naked thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, shoving the thick of his fingers inside to press down on your tongue. You try and moan around him, protest or something, but you can’t help but run your tongue around the digits, tasting the smokiness of blaster residue, the tang of whatever he must use to oil his gloves. “Finally, some silence. I like you better like this,” he taunts you with an imitation of your previous words. He bends his head forward, “Get them wet,” he murmurs, voice soft and sultry through the modulator, and the moan you give him now is all desperation as you let saliva pool heavy on your tongue to coat the leather.

When he pulls them from your mouth, tugging your head back further so that you can look up into the dark tee of his visor as he slides his spit slick gloves between your thighs to press against your throbbing clit, your whimpered little mewl has a chastising tut filtering through the helmet, “Slippery, little thing.” He starts to press slow circles to the aching bundle of nerves, sliding down on every other swirl to press gentle, teasing pressure to your clenching opening. “Did my chasing do all this? Do you like being hunted, brat?”

“Not–” you moan as he presses down hard on your clit, then back to the mouth of your cunt, giving you just the tip of his finger, “Not a brat,” you struggle to get out.

“No?” He starts to press two fingers inside at once, both of you groaning in tandem. “Maker – fucking tight–” He scissors his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist to fuck you open, making room for himself inside of you. “Don’t know if I’ll even fit in here.”

“No,” you groan, low and drawn out, and then, yes, whispered breathlessly, one of your arms reaching back to hold onto the wrist of his hand still twisted in your hair, trying to find purchase on anything to anchor yourself with. Because the stretch of just his two fingers inside of you – you can hear the slick squelch of your wetness as he starts to fuck them in and out of you slowly – is so unexpectedly obscene. You had not expected to find yourself in this position with any man, especially not one like this – had not thought you were yet ready to be touched by another person. Not so soon after– “Please – m– more. I want–”

“You think you’re ready for my cock, little one? Have I stretched this tiny cunt out enough?”

“Yes– yes. Just do it.”

“Fuck–” You listen to the wet little pop as he pulls his fingers from you, and the clink and shuffle of his belt and armor as he pulls himself out of his clothes, and then he’s shifting behind you as you brace against the edge of the table. The burning hot blunt tip of his cock skimming against the round of your ass, and you feel him spread his feet wide, bend his knees, and then his cock is there at the slick mouth of your cunt, and he’s thrusting up and into you on the downward roll of your hips, and Maker, he’s deep like this. Suddenly, twin strangled groans of pain or relief ripping from your throats in tandem as he grinds deep, deeper, for a moment. You feel the heavy kick and throb of his cock inside of you, and he is too big, too thick – he forces you to take it anyway. Stretching you in a way you’ve never been before, your eyes smart, forcing your body to make room for his inside of you, it leaves your breath to stutter out in a weak little puff of shock.

And you moan, using the palms of your hands against the edge of the table to grind yourself back onto him while his hands clamp tightly around your hips, his fingers so long they almost meet at the center of your belly beneath your navel.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. That’s so good.

You can’t tell which one of you is speaking. You can't even tell if you’re still breathing. And then he starts to move.

You knew he’d fuck hard, from the first moment you’d seen him, you knew.

He pulls his hips back, the slick wet, the grasping walls of your cunt trying to suck him back in, and then the scorching slide of him pressing back in, in, in, grinding again, those long fingers pressing down on your belly so that you feel him from the outside too.

“Harder,” you beg, because of course you want more. You are a creature made of greed and hunger. You always have been.

“Quit. You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given,” but his hips slam back in, a savage growl punctuating the movement.

He gives it to you almost brutally, without pause or thought, fucking punched out breaths and whines from you.

“Shut up,” he spits on the end of one particularly deep, harsh thrust that’s followed by a high pitched mewl from you. “You want every piece of shit on Nevarro to find you split open on my cock like this?” Your head lolls back limply on his shoulder, the wet slap of his heavy balls against your clit overwhelming the sound of your thoughts. You can’t speak, your brain is currently being jostled within the confines of your skull by the force of his cock splitting you open. “No? Then be a good girl, and be quiet,” his voice, rough, even through the modulator is almost drowned out by the wet, obscene sound of him pounding into you.

He brings one of his hands back up to your jaw, turning your head slightly so that your nose is almost smushed up against the chrome of his visor. He wants to look at you. The hard beskar of his chest plate rubs harshly against your back on every push upwards of his hips, and you’re sure that’ll hurt later, but right now you just can’t seem to care. You can feel the humid, warm air of your panting breath, foggy against the gleam of his helmet, and you bring one of your hands up to the wrist holding your face, holding on for dear life, sanity, you’re not sure what. Your other hand twists back into the hanging fabric of his cloak so that you can pull yourself more tightly back into him as he slows his thrusts, making them longer and more drawn out. “Yeah– like that. Settle… good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut. Too much, too much. It should hurt. You wanted it to hurt. Not gentle, you don’t want it gentle.

“Harder,” you whine, plead.

“No. How I say.” He rolls his cock into you over and over, your slick sliding down your thighs, the backs abraded by the plates of beskar over his own legs. He’s so deep, so big it hurts so good. Even if you want it harder, it still hurts so good. The hand at your face slides down to rip open the fastening of your high necked tunic, reaching inside and under your breast band to pull out the heavy aching weight of your tit and pinch your nipple, rolling it between his strong leather clad fingers – more high, desperate mewls that have him groaning deep in his chest. You’re sure if your face wasn't so close to his you’d never be able to hear them through the helmet, low and rumbly and so delicious.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs low, cupping your breast to plump it up, massaging it in his palm.

“What? You can see?”

“Yeah– fuck yes, I can see.”

“Not fair,” you whine. It’s so dark in the little room he’d pushed you into, you’re not even going to get to take a good look at his cock before this is all over.

“You don’t need to see. You just need to be good and take it.”

“Do you ever kiss?” you ask him suddenly. Irritated by the fact that you’ve not gotten to ogle him – or kiss him. If he even does that.

Another deep roll of his hips, a tight squeeze to the swinging globe of your breast, “No.”

“That’s a shame.”

And he responds immediately, voice subdued and even, underneath the helmet, despite the fact that you feel like he’s cleaving you in two. “Maybe next time,” he says. His palm slides down to your belly then, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades to fold you over the table, hands moving to wrap around your hips and lift you up and back onto his impaling cock so that the tips of your toes are left skimming the ground beneath, your fingers scramble and claw for purchase against the wood of the table. You can feel the wide tip of his cock punching against your womb on every thrust in and stars flash behind your eyes, mouth hanging open pathetically.

There is nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. Like he wants to split you in two, like he wants to make sure the shape of him is branded into the center of your body so that you’d never forget this. The sticky sweet coil of your orgasm starts up low in your belly, and you feel molded in his image for one second, pushed out of yourself to stand on the sidelines and look upon the sight of your much smaller form draped over the table and being fucked into so savagely by this silver blade of a man.

And then: they’re fucking bare, they’re fucking raw, and it has been so, so long since he has felt the touch of another person, someone else’s skin on his that was not bestowed upon him in violence or with the barrier of a sheath between. It is an almost overwhelming feeling, that of your hot, soaking wet cunt pulsing around him, you’re about to come for him, he can feel it. The fluttering of your inner muscles, delicate thing that you are, your thighs shaking as you struggle to push yourself back on to him to get it harder, deeper. He is, almost, made faint with the feeling. And those eyes… you’ve got the strangest multicolored eyes. One enshrouded entirely in darkness compared to its bright counterpart – as if one had forgotten to take that last step into the light. You’re fucking beautiful and–

You snap back into yourself. No, no, no, stay out of his head. Stay out of his head. Focus. You push yourself up again so that your back is against his chest, and he bands one tremendously strong arm around you, gripping your breast tightly. You feel him bend his knees framing your thighs to change and deepen the angle, and then he’s pounding right into that tender, devastating place inside of you, and your cunt twists and floods with your orgasm, electric shocks of pleasure numbing your fingers and toes. You can do nothing more than let him do with you what he will. Your toes aren’t even touching the floor.

He presses as deep as he can, grinds for a moment, and then he folds you over the table once again and presses down harshly on the small of your back with one heavy palm as he pulls his cock from you and finishes himself off. You listen to the wet thwack, thwack, thwack of him pulling on his cock, and then the searing hot spurt of his come is hitting your ass and the exposed seam of your fluttering cunt, a savage growl ripping through the modulator as he squeezes all of the air out of you with that unyielding hand. You’re like a pressed flower between the pages of a book – wilted and frayed, but still held in the image of that which you once were. At the last spurt from his cock he brings his hand to your ass, spreads you apart to rub his spend into the tight furl of your ass, and then further down into your throbbing, overly sensitive clit. All you can do is cry and whimper weakly, still trembling from your own orgasm. “T– too much, nooo,” you whine pathetically.

“Easy – easy, settle.”

You feel him fall to a crouch behind you, pulling you apart with both hands by the meat of your ass to look upon the sight of your blushed, fluttering hole. Messy, little cunt, you hear him whisper. He rubs his come into your trembling thighs, over your swollen clit again, inspecting every vulnerable inch and crevice of your sex, and then he’s pushing two of those thick fingers back inside of you, the passage made slick and fucked open by your mingled come. “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. You try and wiggle away, tears of oversensitivity brimming beneath your lashes, I can’t, I can’t, you think you whisper, but he’s inescapable. He clamps one hand painfully over your asscheek, keeping you spread apart for his inspection, the other one buried deep inside of you so that his fingers are hooked against your g-spot where he presses over and over, quick and relentless, his fingers almost vibrating inside of you until your vision is going white hot and a buzzing sound rings in your ears, and you’re crying for what you think might sound like mercy or something equally despeerate. “Yes, fuck, yes. Just like that.” Your answering sob does not prompt him to abate, for he keeps his fingers pressed against that spot inside of you until you’re leaking an embarrassing amount of wetness down your thighs, until the rippling throbs of your orgasm have finally settled. You feel his head fall forward, the beskar of his helmet pressing against the space where your asscheek meets your thigh, and he holds there for a second against your burning hot skin, the scorching soothed by the cool metal.

You can’t stop shaking, you feel, suddenly, like you might cry. You were not prepared for something of this intensity, to be touched like this, and now that it’s happened you’re left reeling. You don’t even know his name. And now you’re sure he’ll go away to wherever it is that Mandalorian bounty hunters run off to, and you’ll never see him again, and you’ll have to live with the memory of this forever. And something like this… amidst all the other horror that lives within you, you’re sure that the intimacy, the fervor of this, will make it hurt all the more, even compared to all the rest.

He uncoils behind you, rising up to his towering height. You listen to the rustling of his clothes, and then he’s smoothing a large palm over the slope of your trembling back and reaching down to pull up your trousers, tucking your breast back beneath your tunic, righting your clothes for you without commentary. When you think you’ve finally caught your breath, or can at least pretend you’ve done so, enough to push yourself up from your position over the table. Your eyes feel pinched and hot, your heart beating so hard, almost painfully, within the confines of your ribcage that it feels as though your bones are rattling beneath your skin, knocking together in the imitation of a death rattle so that he’ll surely know that you feel two paces away from falling apart entirely.

“You’re… Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” Voice stilted.

“No more than I wanted you to.”

He’s silent for a moment, uncomfortable. You can feel the sensation of him pulling away, getting ready to make a run for it. “That’s not–” he cuts himself off. “Do you– do you spend much time on planet?” He’s awkward, uncomfortable now with this unnecessary notion of seemingly required small talk.

“No.” Lie. You like Nevarro, you spend more time here than anywhere else.

“What’s your name?” It shocks you that he asks, for you know he’d not give you his if you asked it of him in return, but for one infinitely painful, insanely uncharacteristic moment, you want to tell him. You want to give him your real name desperately, tell him who you are. But if you were to do that, then you might tell him what you are. And then he’d hate you, and the memory would be ruined, and you have so few good ones, that this one must be protected at all costs.

So instead you say that which you have no real desire to say, do what you have no real desire to do, and make sure that he thinks you’re not interested, that you have no desire to ever see him again. Maybe next time. Your heart gives a surprisingly painful pinch, your eyes growing hotter by the second. “This was just a fuck, don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Your voice is so cold, so uncaring. You hate the way you can make yourself sound sometimes. You sense him snap with tense shock, and he nods once, succinctly. “Very well. Thank you… for this. I suppose.”

You lean back against the table, trying your hardest to appear as unaffected as you can. You turn your face to the side, roll your cheek over the hill of your shoulder. “It was my pleasure.”

He turns to go, his cape snapping with the sharp abruptness of his movements, and he pulls open the door of the little storage room letting a flood of moonlight sweep in to shed light on the construction of this memory you’re assembling brick by brick to preserve in your mind for as long as you possibly can. Your eyes sweep over the length of him ravenously, trying to catalog every single detail of him, the incredible breadth of his shoulders, the silver gleam of his beskar helmet, the sweep of his cape, the arsenal of weapons strapped to his body, lethal. He turns back to look at you for one moment, the yawning darkness of his chrome visor, “Don’t get killed, Mandalorian. There are so few of you left now.” And truth, truth, truth, for it would be a shame beyond imagining for a creature such as this, something so strong and beautiful and other, to perish when so few like him remain. He pauses to take you in, as well. You wish you had the courage to ask him what he sees when he looks at a thing like you. The tears are right there, and you hate them and feel weak and disgusted, but also relieved, and you could fall to your knees, in this moment, to thank the Maker that you still possess the ability, the heart, to cry, to succumb to something as trife as tears. You hope he cannot see them. The helmet cocks to the side for one second, perhaps he too is cataloging you to his memory. He nods once, and then he’s turning and gone away into the night. The door snicks shut behind him, and you’re alone once again.

You pause for a moment, hoping that relief will come. He’s gone, you got what you wanted from him. You should be glad. But there is only the screaming thought of wait, there was still more, there was still more that I wanted from you.

You let yourself sink slowly to the ground, hand braced against the edge of the table he just fucked you over, lest your shaking legs give out and have you planting face first into the dirt. You fold your legs beneath you, tuck your wild hair gently behind your ears, your movements measured, trying to breathe deep and slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Don’t cry, there’s no reason to cry. But shouldn’t we be glad we can still cry? Isn’t it a sign that not all is lost? That there is still a part of us that feels enough to shed tears? This should be a good thing. And so you let the tears fall. You fold yourself over as small as you can, one hand pressed over your hot, leaking eyes, another over your mouth to keep your sounds contained, and you sob as quietly as you possibly can. It was so good and you’re crying and you’re alive and you’re free. You are free, and you should be glad of this. Cry, cry, but cry for your own victory, for your own freedom, for the chance to cry. This is what victory feels like. This is what it is to be alive.

And so, here is your truth: It is a difficult thing, to shed the facets of the dark side after you’ve lived with it for so long. To be a Sith is to forsake all connection, all peace. There is only passion to strength to power to victory to the Force, but it is always alone. Always against someone or something else. So, yes, it is difficult to shed the facets of the dark side that have made you the thing you’ve been for more than half your life, since the time you were stolen from your cradle, your parents slaughtered, and spirited away into the shadow of a cruel and unforgiving master. What is it to know exactly how your life will play out, to see everything, to be so aware of what you will be – and to still be lost? Part agony, part madness. The pieces of you that are secretive, that like to hide, to run, these are especially difficult to let go of, and you are so, so interminably sad, you live in it. It’s all you feel you are now, after the dark, after the fall of the Empire and the Sith, after escape, after freedom, after you’d so forcibly ripped its claws, that were so deeply sunk within you, out by sheer force of will, by sheer force of desperation, you worry that it’s taken a piece of you with it, your soul. That it had eaten a piece of you. That you don’t have one anymore.

You don’t even know his name. And even if you’re certain he would not have given it to you, for one moment, you feel an incredible lance of regret that you did not give him yours.

But then: a person without a soul could not cry.

And so this must only be proof of the fact that you must still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must.

And you think: I am not unfamiliar with this half life – there is a wound inside of me – dark and putrid and festering. But perhaps my tears will heal me. Seal the wound closed.

You feel lonely – worse, you feel strange. Once, you were terrible – now you are only yourself. So you cry for the passion of the moment, for the way he made you feel, for the loss of a name, for the truth of freedom.

Chapter II

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weaper-reaper · 1 year

Text

@sprout-fics is HOLDING it together with new König content (pls go check work out! The little-mouse series has got me foaming). But I figured since there’s such a lack of content for our boy- and even less M!reader content, I figured I’d treat :) Enjoy! Also thanks to @snail-eggs for convincing me NOT to use the phrase “boy-button”

Good Boy

König x M!reader

2nd Person, Pure Smut, Minors DNI

Reader is a service bottom and just wants to make König feel good after a hard week.

CW: Established relationship, Smut, blowjobs, facefucking, throat bulge, rimming, fingering, doggy style, mating press, creampie (duh) WC ~2.1k

You didn’t notice it was cold until the shiver in your body fizzed out, a broad chest coaxed the chill ache from the center of your shoulder blades, and an arm snug and tight over your waist. The far away sound of thunder and rain slapping heavy on the stone outside drew you back to reality first. How long had you been asleep? Time passed so quickly lately, but the warm breath fanning over your collarbones grounded you to the moment.

Your eyes slit open, just enough to watch blearily as the candlelight’s flame flickered shadows over the room. The mass of the man to your side shifted, and pulled you closer at the next strike of lightning. Was it your heart that skipped a beat?

“Welcome back.” You whispered. Mainly to yourself, König seemed to fall seamlessly back into his normal cuddly role- as if he’d never left.

He grumbled something non-committal into your neck, the prick of his unshaven chin scratching sensitive spots behind your ear. Your body twitched, and he responded by loosening his grip on you enough so that you could worm around to face him.

There was no way the lighting had been bright enough for you to see all of him, but that look was still there. Lazy hooded eyes, messy hair covering the edges of his face, and a twisted half-smile that pulled his scarred skin taut. Your fingers danced up to trace each one, an act you’d don’t countless times before. His eyes closed and a broken sigh weaped from his crooked nose.

“I’m assuming your meeting didn’t go very well?” You more stated, than asked.

“No.” He shook his head, “These men are… stupid.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst from your lungs, and slightly embarrassed as you wiped and sniffled at your nose until the giggle died down.

“Not all men though, surely?”

His smile settled as he looked over your scrunched face, bringing two fingers to hold your chin straight.

“No.” He said again, with a glint in his eye. “Not this one, at least.”

Your heart fluttered as he partially rolled over you, his massive frame didn’t need to hover above to tower you completely. His hand trailed down your naked chest, carefully dipping over the quickly growing tent in your boxers, then over a bone in your hip.

His eyes never left yours. “Is this okay?”

A moan of anticipation seeped through your silky lips as his graced just over yours, “More than okay,” You whispered. “I’d die another week without you.”

Königs eyes crinkled, and his mouth graced yours in a slow and soft, but desperate kiss. His tongue flicked at your bottom lip, and his nose dug deep into your inner cheek. The closeness of him- and the hand massaging your dick- made your head go all fuzzy. His sly fingers slipped down under the band of your underwear and cupped your entire length in one palm. Your hips twitched and he paused his minstrations to mumble low praises in your ear.

“Well that wouldn’t do, did you miss me that much, Liebling?” He egged, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear and then at the skin below your jaw as he slouched his way down your body.

Your bottom lip sucked into your teeth, “I could show you,” you hesitated, hand trailing down the cloth of his tee and settled just over where his happy trail started. “Just how much I’ve missed you, I mean.”

Königs movements stuttered, in awe of your boldness. Then a cheeky grin pulled over his face and he fell onto his side, scrunching up his shirt under his chin with one hand- presenting himself to you. “I am yours, then.”

With an invigorated look, and an equally wild glint in his eyes you twisted on your side and slid down the bed until you were face-level with the dark bulge in his sweats. The candlelight flickered once more, as if it could sense the anticipation, and illuminated Königs pale skin in a deep amber glow. A light sheen of sweat glistened over the tight muscles of his abdomen, and the sight made your mouth begin to water.

You pressed a kiss of adoration over the dip in each of his hips, and his free hand ran smoothly through your bedhead. He ran a thumb over your cheekbone, and then his fingers settled tight over the underside of your jaw.

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbled, and it sounded instead like he was just thinking out loud.

With a new heat pulsing over your face, you tucked your chin down and pulled at his boxers until they were stretched over his massive thighs. His cock sprung upwards immediately, and the sticky pre beading across the middle of his head almost made you drool. It twitched the longer you stared, and pointed directly up; tip reaching just over his belly button.

You nuzzled in closer, and brought a hot tongue from the base to that very tip, his salty essence pooling thick inside of your mouth as you encircled it. König groaned, and his fingers ticked at your jaw, inching himself further into your mouth until he felt resistance halfway down. You gagged over him, and slowed your breathing enough to allow another inch or so further into the opening of your throat.

“Scheisse..” he choked, “you’re so good at that.” And encouraged you to take him down again with a couple cants of his hips.

You did so, greedily. Swallowing as much of him down as you could before you needed to bring yourself back up to breathe. König was shaking by the fifth plunge, and small whimpers escaped his lips far too often. Embarrassed with how easily you ruined him, he raised an arm over his mouth- biting into the corded and veiny muscle to silence himself.

A part of you creened his noises, so in retaliation you dipped the tip of your tongue over his slit on the next pass, eliciting an arch and groan from the massive man. You pulled off him with a pop, and heaved the thick air between the two of you. Your own erection strained against your underwear, until you kicked it off, and it rubbed raw against the sheets.

König recollected his breath, and pulled you back down over him rather roughly. You grunted when he shoved his cock back into your tiny mouth. “Come, Liebling.” He egged.

“Show me what a good boy you can be.”

Normally the phrase would’ve made you laugh, but the intensity in his stare and the thickness of his shaft down your throat only made you harder. You couldn’t help but groan around him- one he echoed once the noise vibrated through him. You took in all of him again- he made you. With jagged thrusts and a hand at the base of your neck he pumped himself deep inside your throat. So much that you swore you could feel the outside bulge.

It wasn’t until your eyes were so watery that you couldn’t see him anymore, and your lips were raw that he decided to pull out of you. A trail of saliva and pre briged across from the corner of your mouth to his tip- swollen and bright.

“That’s it.” He cooed and pulled you up onto your stomach flat across the bed with strong practiced ease. The movement made your body twitch with want. He twisted and settled behind you, nudging you up onto your knees in front of him.

A hot mouth settled directly over your spread and exposed parts, tongue wasting no time- delving as deep as it could get inside of you. His burning breath brushed through the crack in your cheeks, and cascaded down your back. Your body shook immediately, and you flew a hand around to curl into his hair.

“Oh my god,” you groaned into the sheets, digging your face into the beige covers. “Fuck.. fuck! König, don't make me wait.” You begged, wanting only the feel of him as close as you could get him.

His hand came up to palm you at your base, and you almost exploded from the contact. His fingers wrapped tightly around your length and he pumped in time with his tongue. You groaned out again, needy.

“Königg..”

He slipped his tongue out, only to replace it with two fingers curled perfectly downwards enough so that it brushed over the sensitive bump deep inside of you. Your hips twitched involuntarily, and your hand flew to the base of your cock to prevent it from cumming. You twisted tight fingers around the base as it pulsed and jumped hot. Your own pre no doubt soaking the sheets below.

You panted when you spoke again, his fingers stretching you open completely. “It’s enough, please. I need you inside of me.”

König groaned out again behind you, shocked by how needy you sounded. And rose so that his chest covered your entire back. Cock head sliding against your entrance. He lubed you up with his own slick, then deftly pressed the head rough enough so that it popped just inside of you. The both of you moaned in unison, and he had to hold himself back from shoving the entire thing through you with one go.

“Ahh..” he hissed, lurching forward enough to plant another few inches inside. A hand settled over your hip, the other keeping him propped upright. You pulled from him, just to arch your back enough so two more inches slid through.

His spongy head brushed just against the button of your prostate and that knot twisted at the base of your stomach, another thrust and your balls pulled up taut so that you couldn’t help but cum right then, even with your hand attempting to cut off all circulation.

You pulsed and buzzed as each wave crashed through you. Sticky liquid ruining the clean sheets below. König muffled his moans into the crevice of your shoulder blades as you clenched and pulled him deeper and deeper inside. He jerked forward and seated the rest of himself completely within your warm center. His breath- hot and heavy over your ear as the both of you panted.

“So tight,” he muttered, accent thick and every inch of him present. Your body loosened and weakly aware of the way his pressed perfectly into you.

He took a beat before withdrawing enough to leave you aching, and then re-filling you to the brink. You whined with hypersensitivity. “Fuck, I-I just came-“

“Then it’s my turn, right?” He teased with a fry laugh, peeling his sweaty body from yours to palm both hips in a possessive grip. Pulling your body back into him like he was playing with you, a toy to get him off and make him feel good.

Your eyes teared up and every inch of your body screamed from over exhaustion. Still not quite used to the stretch of him, your body trembled beneath his massive frame.

“Almost, almost.” His voice hushed and encouraging, he massaged at your sore hips. “Mmm, so good for me.”

He lowered his lips to your clammy skin. Leaving dark red kisses with each incredible thrust. Your dick swelled again as he thumbed the swollen head, spreading your cum down and around your shaft. A handful of thrusts later you were ready to burst again, and König sensed it- pausing for only moment enough to flip you around so that he could smother you with wet kisses.

His hands hooked under your knees, and pressed them up towards your chest so that you were folded and open underneath him.

“Oh! Shit.” You cursed, eyes rolling back into your head. “König,” you cried, nearing your brink too quickly.

“That’s it, Liebling.” He coaxed, slamming his hips as far into your skin as he could dig them. “Again, cum for me again.”

He pumped you in time with him, and his release hit just before your second. The warmth flooded through you too quickly that it seeped down before you came again. Hot and fast and rough between your bodies.

Even as he softened he kept himself lodged deep within you, finally collapsing and pulling you into his side. Kissing over the crown of your head. There were many deep breaths and sighs before he rolled over to pluck tissues from the bedside table, pulling out and wiping the two of you down. He tucked you tight into his arms again as the rain began to pick up again.

#konig #call of duty smut #Konig smut #m!reader #konig x male reader #smut

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year

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hey beautifuuuuul, i wanted to pretty pls ask for a story with Spencer x oral fixation😈

pls, just the thought of the whimpers, the mess, the overstimulation, the long afternoon turned into a long night... ugh🤤 (also locked jaw bcuz that is some haaard work) :3

tqm sister and thanks in advance for blessing us with your words🥵💖

Como te amoooo chingada madre 😮‍💨😘 (this got rlly self indulgent lmao)

———-

You and Spencer had spent the afternoon curled up in the couch. You napped with your head on his chest while he read, brows furrowed slightly in concentration.

When you first stirred from your slumber, you inhaled him deeply, the mere scent of him making your mouth water a little. You pressed closer, seeking more of his heat, fingers dipping into the gaps between the buttons of his shirt.

He hummed slightly at the contact, unmoving as he let you explore. You kept your eyes closed as you reached for his hand, and he let go of one side of his book to let you grab it.

You brought it to your lips to plant a kiss on his knuckles… but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop there. You kissed the center of his palm next, moving to his fingers. The tip of your tongue darted out to taste his skin, and a sudden primal sort of urge flared within you.

You took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before holding it between your teeth for a moment. Spencer released a slow breath, his body shifting.

“Having a good dream?” He murmured, knowing well you were awake despite your eyes still being closed.

You’d in fact had some very nice dreams about him, probably due to the fact that he’d been invading all your senses in your sleep. You were greedy, and you could never get enough of him, that much was obvious.

Instead of responding, you surreptitiously slid lower, hooking one leg over his as you got closer to his navel. You untucked his shirt, pushing it up to expose more of his skin.

Your eyes fluttered open just as you dipped your head and licked down the light happy trail that led from his belly button to the top of his pants.

At that point, he was distracted from his book. You looked up into his eyes as you moved further down and licked his crotch over his pants, fingers digging into his thighs. His hips bucked, and you tried to undo his zipper with your teeth, desperate to get to what was underneath.

“I want you,” you rasped, pupils blown wide as you dragged your nails down his thighs. “Need you.”

In a tremulous voice, he said, “Let me help you with that.”

He undid his pants hastily, pushing them down along with his underwear. You immediately took him into your mouth, feeling as he got fully hard inside of it.

You hummed at the velvety feel of the underside on your tongue. The musky, slightly salty taste of him was almost narcotic, and you moved your head ever so slowly, savoring it all.

His fingers threaded through your hair, and all you could hear were his soft murmurs of “So good, baby,” over and over again.

———

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #minors dni #this man makes me feel like an animal thank you

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softxsuki · 5 months

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Urgent request! Before I start I just want to say that if you are overwhelmed with asks or are uncomfortable with this request please feel free to ignore it. Anyway, can I request baji, and mitsuya with a very sunshine/ happy go lucky gf who’s always smiling but one day they see her self harm scars (that she’s never said anything about)? I’ve always been the therapist friend and the one to help people when no one else would, but no one ever helped me.

I always wear long sleeves cause mine go all up my arm and I hate them. I’ve been clean for a few years now but I never wear short sleeves due to people making uncomfortable comments and just out right being rude to me for having them. I’ve had family members yell at me for hurting myself/ having scars, never really asking if I’m ok. I just want to comforted by my favorite boys and actually be able to vent to someone without being judged and not have to keep up being happy all of the time.

Side note: keep up the great work, I’ve read through your stuff and it has really brought me comfort :’) also take as much time as you need, i don’t want to rush you

Baji and Mitsuya (Separate) Comforting Sunshine S/O After Seeing Her Scars

mentions of self-harm and scars, please don't read if those things will be harmful to you, rather than comforting pls

Pairings: Baji x Fem!Reader, Mitsuya x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of scars, alluding to self-harm

Genre: Comfort

Word Count: 520

Post-Type: Headcanons

Summary: In which you're usually happy-go-lucky so they're shocked when your sleeve raises and they see scars there

[A/N: Hey hun <3 thank you so much for being so sweet and patient, I really appreciate it! I was more than happy to write this for you. I just hope this is able to bring you some comfort! Thank you always for the support <3]

Baji:

Baji is shocked, he’s used to seeing your strong side, the side of you that’s always put together and happy

You always had a smile on your face and never failed to spread that sunshine to the people around you as well, including himself–it’s one of the reasons why he fell for you so quickly

So when he sees those scars for the first time and you let him in on what you’ve been feeling behind your smile, he becomes very protective over you

Not only did he think he needed to protect you from others, but now also from yourself

Of course, this man was always protective of you, but even more so when he sees your scars

He feels bad for the times he ranted to you when you were probably going through your own struggles and he didn’t even realize it

Awkwardly says that he’s there for you if you want to talk about anything (he’s bad with feelings, but at least he’s trying)

Give him some time to loosen up and get used to all this

Yes, he’s very awkward at first and kinda doesn’t know how to go about acting now, but give him some guidance and he’ll figure it out

He loves you and just wants you to be okay, so expect a very clingy Baji for the next few weeks until you open up more to him and show your true feelings in front of him instead of hiding them behind a smile like you always did

Mitsuya:

Mitsuya is also shocked at the sight of your scars, but he’d never let that shock appear on his face

He has always been your biggest support system, so he’s definitely going to be even more now than ever

Presses kisses to your scars, no matter how old or fresh they are, with the utmost of care, showing you how much he loves you and how these scars change nothing between you

Goes out of his way to design you shirts with long sleeves or jackets when the weather gets colder that he knows you’ll love, if you decide to continue to cover the scars

But makes sure you know that there’s nothing to hide, he accepts all of you, even your arms with scars, and nobody would be stupid enough to comment about them with him around

To him, those scars are proof of your strength, you got through some of the hardest moments of your life and you’re still around pushing through it all, he admires that so much, but he’d never let you go through those battles alone anymore to the point where cutting felt like your only route to relief

Mitusya makes extra time for you in his day, checking in on you and spending time with you to make sure you’re doing okay

Encourages you to speak your true feelings with him, there’s absolutely no judgment with him at all; you don’t need to plaster a fake smile on your face to please him

He wants to face your problems with you and help you overcome them together

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Posted: 12/11/2023

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yesimwriting · 2 years

Note

For some reason I came up with a fake scenario where Billy and Stu sneak up to Y/n's window and they open it and all they hear is music blasting through the house. They sneak downstairs confused and ya wanna know what they see? 🤣 Idk why, but I imagined Y/n just bustin it down with a bottle of vodka in her hand and Randy smoking a blunt on the couch and giggling to himself 💀🤣🤣 and Billy and Stu are so jealous cause Y/n hasn't been answering any calls and here she is, basically throwing it back in front of Randy 😭😭🤣 and dancing her little heart out.

disclaimer: if my writing is bad pls forgive me i just woke up from a drunk nap, violently hungover, there's just something about drinking in a frat that makes the alcohol hurt u more :,) pray for me

this scenario is so good tho?? as someone who is the drinking while others get high friend, i feel represented lmao (my lungs are naturally trash, they do not need the excuse to be worse!!)

also the implications? I love, like Billy and Stu casually hanging out in Y/n's house, Y/n and Randy being besties, jealousy? love!! that inspired a little drabble :))

----

Twice. Billy had called you twice. Once while waiting for Stu to come by and one more time with Stu right next to him. The long ringing rubbed them both the wrong way. That familiar pinch of panic that Billy only ever felt when it comes to you quickly struck him in the chest.

His mom had pulled away slowly at first, too, until she left completely. His hands pulled into fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Billy was so blinded that Stu, who was dealing with one too many flashbacks of his parents ignoring his calls when he was younger, had to be the voice of reason. If our babydoll thinks she’s too busy for us, we’ll make ourselves too busy for her.

So they both spent a few hours with their girlfriends. It worked out well, Sidney and Tatum couldn’t begin to see themselves as afterthoughts, and they knew how you’d react. You never said anything when they made a point of spending time with their girlfriends, but they knew that it hurt you. The corner of your mouth would turn downwards, and you’d shrink away for a moment, nervously picking at your nails. Sometimes you’d even become a little snippy, the start of an attitude that they knew how to handle.

It was kind of cute, the way you’d get flustered, trying to convince yourself and them that you’re not jealous.

Billy had a feeling that if he said the right things, pushed you the right way, you’d be needier than usual. He could use that right now, a reminder that you need them. Stu pulled the jealousy card a little more often, but it never grows old. It was the only time he allowed himself to think that maybe he does like seeing you a little upset from time to time if it’s over him.

They called you again once they got to Stu’s house. No answer. Enough was enough.

You were home alone, you mentioned that everyone you lived with would be gone for most of the weekend on Friday during lunch. Billy and Stu had been looking forward to it. With all the murders, you’d be happy for their company...expected or otherwise.

When they get to your house, the first thing they notice is that there’s no light coming in from your bedroom window. That’s not enough reason to panic yet. Sometimes when you’re home alone at night, you like watching movies in the living room.

This is far from the first time the two of them enter your room through your window. The lack of light doesn’t inhibit them, they’ve come here more times than even you know.

Your window is cracked open slightly. Billy’s already planning on teasing you about it. There’s a killer on the loose and you’re alone and you left your window open. With all the scary movies you’ve watched together, you really should know better.

Stu wastes no time. As soon as he’s in your room, he starts looking around, noting the new arrangement of books on your shelf and the oversized shirt tossed over the chair of your desk.

“Wait a second,” Stu mumbles as Billy approaches the door to your bedroom, “She went to the mall with Tatum the other day. Tatum came back with a bag from Victoria’s secret, I want to see if she got anything new.”

Billy sighs, lingering in the space between your bed and your door. The sound of distant music is starting to get to him, ruining the normal feeling he gets from being in your room. The music isn’t exactly shaking the house, but it’s a little louder than the normal volume you set. It’s also not the kind of music you normally listen to, the base is too intense. It reminds him of the music that’s in the background of parties.

“She’s with someone,” Billy mumbles, jaw clenching.

Stu freezes, gripping the handle of your dresser drawer. “It’s almost 10:00 and she’s not with Sidney or Tatum.” The thought that the reason you weren’t answering their calls is because you’re with someone hits him straight in the chest. “If it’s that guy from her English class that’s always looking at her--”

The rational part of Billy’s mind that warns him against giving into his instincts too much is oddly quiet. That’d be too obvious, its whisper is practically drowned out by that damn feeling in his chest. She’s leaving you.

“I know where he lives,” Stu continues, “We can make it look like an accident.”

Billy partially snaps out of it. “You’d gut him, and you know it.” Stu shrugs the dismal, making a mental note to bring it up later. “Let’s just find her.”

Both of them walk down the stairs and into your living room. They round the corner, following the sound of music to your kitchen. You’re there, casually swaying to the music and badly humming along. You seem so content, so fine without them.

Billy holds out a hand, signaling to Stu to not make his presence known yet. They quietly walk further into the room, noticing someone sitting on your couch. Randy. This revelation doesn’t fully ease either of them.

You stumble in an attempt to turn to the music. Your eyes immediately lock on the two lurking trespassers. On a normal night, they might try to look apologetic. Tonight though, they have no reason to feel bad about coming here unannounced. It’s not even controlling of them, they called. Three different times. What were you and Randy doing that was so important you couldn’t even answer the phone to let them know?

Instead of expressing any sort of concern, you laugh, the bottle in your hand swaying. The clear liquid almost sloshes out as you grin. “You guys are here!”

Throwing caution to the wind, you run towards them, pulling Billy and Stu into a quick hug. You nearly trip on your own feet as you pull away, giving Billy an excuse to grab onto your arm.

Randy, rightfully confused, tilts his head back, revealing red tinted eyes. “Shit, you like summoned them.” You scoff energetically at the comment. A peacefully high Randy and an enthusiastically drunk you. It’s a combination Stu and Billy realize they don’t have to worry about in the way that they were thinking.

“Summoned us?” Billy tilts his head, already slightly amused.

You nod happily,“Yep!” You squeeze Billy’s arm gently. “Missed you two, drinking’s not that fun without you guys making fun of me.”

Stu blink, easing slightly. “We called.”

At that, your expression falls. Your eyebrows draw together, eyes widening apologetically as your lips pull into a pout. “You did?” You twist in Billy’s hold, the bottle of vodka in your hand nearly slipping from your grasp. “I must not have heard music--” You cut yourself off, your head falling to the side in confusion. A small giggle escapes you at the thought of your mistake. “No, no--I-I heard the music. That was the problem. I didn’t hear the phone over the music.” Stu bites down a smile, wondering how far he can pull at your alcohol fused guilt. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts, leaning against the wall. You frown a little more at that. Where’s your hug? You turn your head, moving past Billy and wrapping your arms around Stu. You grab onto him a little too fast. “Woah,” Stu mumbles, squeezing you back, “Guess good pal Randy didn’t think to tell you to slow down.”

“I did,” Randy defends himself flatly, “She didn’t take it well.”

Stu now smiles openly. “You were mean to poor Randy?”

You shake your head against his chest. “Not mean, just didn’t listen.”

“You almost ripped my head off.”

“Yeah,” with a dramatic roll of your eyes, you pull away from Stu, “Because you’re making my living room smell like weed, not because of the drinking comment.” With a huff, you cross your arms in front of your chest, the bottle nearly slipping from your grasp again. “My family’s gone for a night, not forever.”

Randy sighs, “Light a candle.”

“Told you, doesn’t work if you smoke on the couch. It gets into the fabric and pillows and stuff.”

He shuts his eyes at your whine, “You’re just upset I wouldn’t let you smoke.”

“Because you didn’t give me a good ‘no’-reason.”

Ignoring the slurred way your words come out, Randy lazily turns, “Drunk you is fun, high you is messy.” You glare at him, unable to argue. “Face it, Stu’s the only one willing to babysit you when you smoke.”

“She’s not that bad,” Stu defends weakly, placing his hands around your waist, “Last time she didn’t even cry when she got paranoid.”

You gently elbow him, upset that they’re ganging up on you. “You two aren’t funny.”

“I’ll get high with you, babe,” Stu’s tone has taken on that slightly condescending softness as he reaches for you again. “As soon as you’re not hungover, promise.”

You let him hug you. “’M not gonna be hung over.”

“Mhm,” Stu mumbles, “Tell me that again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Randy says as he stands, “I was supposed to leave like an hour ago, but Y/n didn’t want to be alone.”

Randy starts approaching the front door. “Bye Randy! Leave me a message when you get home so I know you didn’t get murdered.”

“Guy smoking weed, walking home late at night,” Randy muses, “Don’t love my odds.” He pauses at your frown. “Kidding, I live one street down from you. I’ll be fine and I’ll leave a message.”

You nod in acceptance. “Bye!” Randy waves you off before stepping out of your front door. The sound of the door shutting reminds you of something. “How’d you guys get in? Door was locked.”

“Your window wasn’t,” Stu replies easily.

At this point, the thought of them coming in through your window doesn’t even phase you. “You two, always with the window.”

“Maybe you’ll learn to lock it,” Billy muses, voice oddly cold, “There’s a killer on the loose.”

You frown at that. “One, I’m not high, you can’t freak me out. Two, it’s not like I want to keep you guys out.”

Billy angles his head downwards, looking at you in a way you can’t read, so you choose to focus on the way his hair falls across his face. “You don’t?”

You shake your head dramatically, “No, I like it when you’re here. I’d let you guys in through the front door.”

“Didn’t think you’d answer,” he mumbles, “You didn’t answer the phone.”

You move away from Stu to stand closer to Billy. You do feel sorry for missing the calls, but you’re not in the mood for this. You’re too tired for anything that isn’t casual and happy. “I’m sorry,” you say again.

There’s something harsh about Billy’s expression. It’s so sharp it hits you straight in the chest. You don’t like it. You want it gone. It doesn’t feel like you’re standing next to the Billy you know. You reach a hand out without thinking, your fingers cautiously brushing against his lower arm. With no warning, Billy turns his hand over in order to grab your hand. He squeezes your hand so tightly it feels uncomfortable. He takes advantage of his hold on you, tugging you forward. You stumble, catching yourself before you can fall against his chest. Billy tilts his head down, his forehead just barely touching yours. The way he’s looking at you changes slightly, but it doesn’t lose its intensity.

After a long second, you find a meeker version of your voice. “Are you mad at me?”

“Don’t leave me,” he blurts out, voice low and harsh and so close to vulnerable a chill runs through you. Despite the alcohol in your system, you know that this stray from his usual facade is significant. You just don’t understand why.

You hold his stare as long as he lets you. He breaks away from the display of neediness, turning his head to hide his gaze in your neck. His father’s voice is screaming in his head, repulsed by his own weakness. Torn between pushing you away and pulling you even closer, Billy’s grip on you tightens even more.

A more sober you would have reacted differently. You wouldn’t have pushed Billy away, not after what he said, but you might have hesitated a little more, maybe even questioned what he meant. “What?” You almost regret breaking the silence, one of your hands moving to smooth his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. There’s an uncertainty there that exhausts you. “You know how much you guys mean to me.” When Billy still doesn’t ease, you frown, placing a hand on his cheek. “You guys want to sleep over? We can watch movies and tomorrow morning you can see how not hung over I am.”

“Adorable,” Stu hums teasingly, running a hand up and down your upper arm, “You two should kiss and makeup more often.”

You roll your eyes. “We weren’t fighting and we didn’t kiss.” Billy, feeling a tiny bit better, places a hand on the back of your head. He pulls you forward, kissing the side of your head. You smile, fondness pooling in your eyes. “Haha,” you mumble dryly, “Are you guys staying over or not?”

After a second, Billy answers, “We’ll stay since you clearly can’t be trusted to stay home alone. Leaving your window open is opening-scene-of-a-horror-movie level of a bad idea.”

You don’t glare at him the way you normally would. Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol, or maybe it’s the warmth of their touch against your flushed skin. “As long as you guys are staying.”

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream imagine #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #x reader

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alexawynters · 4 months

Text

Scarlet Whispers pt 10

Gif not mine, as always

Trigger Warnings: Some gore and violence.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Masterlist with parts 1-9 here

Chapter Ten

A/N: I Googled the recipe for authentic Hungarian Chicken Paprikash in order to see how difficult it might actually be to make, and as someone who can’t cook but three things, I have to say it looks hella complicated. I’m giving Reader far more credit than I would ever give myself with regards to kitchen skills.. That said it sounds delicious and now I want it :’( Someone pls feed me. Also I felt super bad that I went so long without posting when I had this just… sitting in my Google Docs, so uh… have another chapter. I only have 12 written so far though so I guess I better get to steppin’. sweats nervously

The pair of you had elected on a movie marathon today, watching the Hobbit series together on the couch when Wanda felt it. That telltale tingle in the back of her mind, signaling that her wards had been tripped. This wasn’t the alarm for a breach, but rather letting her know that someone was at the perimeter attempting to get in. Pearly teeth grit in rage - how dare someone ruin her perfectly good afternoon with you? Everything was coming together, and now someone had the audacity to try and intrude, possibly to try and take you away from her? Wanda couldn’t have that.

Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the redhead informed you she needed to check on one of her projects and it might be a while. Your pout was quickly kissed away, Wanda directing you to play the new video game she had gotten you last month. Unintentionally, you had been putting it off - between spending time with Wanda and trying to play all the other video games you had, there hadn’t been much time for it. Excitedly, you agreed, getting the disc ready before putting it in the console, as Wanda stepped away. Sure it would be better with the woman by your side, but you could be patient while she worked on her projects.

Or at least, you would try to be. Healthy relationships and all, you had to be able to spend time apart, and you certainly spent enough time together even if secretly your selfish heart thought not enough.

Out of your view and satisfied you were preoccupied for the foreseeable future, the witch conjured her battle regalia, and stepped through a portal to the ground's perimeter. From the moment she stepped through, the cause of the alarm became readily apparent - Stephen Strange stood just beyond the barrier looking smarmy as ever.

Wanda was getting really sick of that stupid goatee.

“Stephen,” Wanda said, calmly, “How did you find me?” She asked, but she didn’t truly care, the how didn’t really matter.

”America didn’t sell you out, if that’s what you’re asking. The trail of death and destruction you’d left pointed me in the right direction. It took a while but eventually I found where you've been hiding, as you had to know I would.”

The witch hummed noncommittally. “I’m just trying to get my family back, Stephen. You of all people should understand that. I’ve seen what you have done to try and reunite with Christine. Can you blame me for wanting to be happy? Why do you get to choose the reality we all must live in, but when I try to make a life for myself, I’m labeled a villain?”

Strange knew there was some truth to her words, but he was never one to back down. “The family you had wasn’t real, Wanda. They never wer-”

“They were real to me!” The witch seethed, cutting him off.

“In almost every other universe, we are together and happy. If I have to go through you to make that happen, I will. To you they aren’t real, but to me they are my family, and I would burn every universe for them.” Red eyes blazed in rage, and Stephen had no doubt the Scarlet Witch meant her words.

Nevertheless, the sorcerer had no patience for empathizing with his former colleague. There was an innocent person in her grasp and it was his duty to save them. “You have to let her go, Wanda. You can’t hold her against her will like this.”

A sinister chuckle. “Against her will? Does she look like she’s being held against her will?”

With a flick of her stained fingers, and a hazy one-way portal appeared off to the side of them, showing where you were currently engrossed in playing your new video game: Baldur’s Gate 3. From there the scene changed to the recent dates you both had been going on, and how happy you were spending time together, focusing on just how enamored you looked gazing up at Wanda. Another twitch of ink-tinged digits, and the images were gone.

The sorcerer had to admit you didn’t look unhappy, but that didn’t mean all was as it seemed. He knew there was no way she had come clean to you about everything she had done to get you here. If she had, surely you would have run for the hills by now, or at least attempted to. Things wouldn’t be so rosy for you if he left you in her care, Stephen was certain.

“Be that as it may, this Y/N doesn’t belong with you. You decimated entire universes in your search for her, leaving countless innocents dead in your wake. Does she know that? Does she know that you murdered her parents in this universe?” He asked, knowing full well the answer.

His words stung, Wanda knowing that some part of him was right in this instance. No, she hadn’t told you, and initially she had never intended to. As she had gotten closer to you though, Wanda realized she wanted you to know. Not to hurt you, but to solidify that she would always keep you safe from any harm, no matter who it was. She loved you, truly, and wanted you to know everything about her. However, she couldn’t risk that until she was sure your heart wouldn’t turn away from her with the knowledge she revealed.

“They were abusing her, Stephen! In your infinite wisdom, did you know that? Do you know the life she led before me? I’m not her captor, Strange, I saved her! Here she is happy, and I provide her with everything she could ever want or need. Taking that away from her for the sake of your pitiful morality and duty, that would be the real crime. Y/N deserves to be loved, to be happy, and so do I. Don’t take that from us.”

Strange knew he couldn’t win on logic alone. This would undoubtedly end in another showdown, but he was hoping he could reason with the witch. “It’s not just about rescuing her from your clutches, Wanda. You have caused real harm to the multiverse. Untold suffering, trillions annihilated for your selfish obsession. You have to be stopped, Wanda. What’s to prevent you from killing Y/N when she doesn’t fall in line like you want? What will you do then, toss her body aside like so many other innocent people, tearing through countless more universes to find another copy? When will it stop?”

“I would never hurt her!” the redhead snaps, her magic flaring out in warning. She was blatantly ignoring the fact that not long ago she was chasing you through a forest in the fear and anger that you were leaving her. Even then though, she had never planned to hurt you, certainly not kill you. Only to teach you a lesson. Wanda deeply resented that Stephen thought she would ever purposely hurt you. Not to any lasting degree at any rate. She loved you. You were her everything, the key to her happiness.

The witch took a steadying breath, calming herself. She had to think of you first, and she didn’t want to risk a battle so close to her home with you in it. “I have no intention of leaving this universe ever again, Stephen. I can’t say that I am sorry for what I did - it has brought me here with Y/N. But we are happy here, and unless someone comes along to threaten my family, I otherwise have no need to ever harm anyone ever again.”

She paused to look Strange in the eyes, trying to convey her sincerity. “Please Stephen, just go. Leave us in peace. This doesn’t have to be a fight. I’m so… tired… of fighting, Strange, but I want to be clear: I will never give up what is mine. I will neutralize any threat to her, or her happiness, and that includes you.”

The sorcerer couldn’t deny that Wanda looked every bit as exhausted as she suggested at this moment. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t allow the greatest threat to the multiverse that’s ever existed to continue free. Stephen believed that Wanda believed she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but that didn’t mean that he trusted her temper. Having already proven volatile at best, and if he left her alone with you, there was nothing stopping Wanda from going on the rampage he expected her to, should you step one toe out of line.

With a deep sigh, he looked at the ground, pondering his options, wishing there was another way. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I can’t take that risk. Not with someone as powerful as you. I’ll ask you one last time, let Y/N go, and surrender. This doesn’t have to end in blood.”

The witch tilted her head, studying him. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, Stephen.”

Purposefully she strode through the barrier to her home, no longer protected by it, able to engage if necessary. “I won’t let you take her from me. I won’t allow anyone to take her from me, ever again. I have grown so much stronger since we last fought. If you insist on your foolish crusade, this will end with your blood.

By now Wanda was mere feet in front of the sorcerer, refusing to back down. “Like you said, Strange. Last chance.” She tilted her head again, and a chill ran down Stephen’s spine at her determined, if slightly unhinged visage.

Strange sighed, moving to take a defensive stance, when suddenly the witch’s arm was protruding from his chest. He let out a surprised grunt. He hadn’t even seen her move, but he could feel the agony radiating throughout his body, proof enough that she had.

With a disgusting squelch, Wanda withdrew her hand, his heart clutched firmly within, still beating. Horror darkened the man’s face as he stared in shock. He hadn’t even seen her move, much less been able to react. How had she gotten so fast? Pain and shock prevented him from even speaking.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Stephen, but I told you. If you continued to come for me, it would be the Scarlet Witch you would be dealing with.” With an almost regretful look at his flabbergasted expression, Wanda crushed his heart in her hand before dropping it. What was left of the ruined organ thudded onto the ground at almost the same time his body did.

Wanda turned and began walking back towards the cottage, not looking back as she waved her hand. Red phosphenes surrounded Stephen Strange’s body as it disintegrated into ash. She neglected to take a portal this time, electing instead to take the long way to the house in the hopes the night air would steady her. It didn’t.

Eventually setting foot in your shared home, Wanda cast a glance towards the living room and was relieved to see you were clearly still enthralled with your new game. So engrossed were you, that you failed to notice Wanda, hand and arm covered in blood, as she headed towards the bathroom for a shower. Though she could have cleaned herself instantly with magic, she knew she was in no state of mind to return to you just yet. Despite how unaffected Wanda had made an effort to appear to Strange, her sins were weighing heavily on her heart. Killing someone she had once fought beside was not something she relished. Another death she was going to have to explain to you one day. Since the walk hadn’t done anything to ease her troubled heart and mind, the witch set about taking a shower. It stood to reason you would hear it and not question her continued delay, buying her time to not only clean up but hopefully also clear her head.

Her shower was longer than usual, with less time spent cleaning than simply existing. Rivulets of water ran down her face as the redhead stood beneath the showerhead, staring sight unseeing at the shower wall. A necessary evil, she told herself. That didn’t make the weight of his death any less burdensome. What was she supposed to have done? Even if she had let him go, eventually he would have come back, the insufferable pest that he was. Likely then with numbers that even the Scarlet Witch might struggle with. She couldn’t have risked that. Risked you. Never again.

Why couldn’t he have just left her well enough alone? Wanda had meant what she said: she had no intention of universe hopping anymore. All she had ever wanted was her family. Now that she had you, she could begin rebuilding that, and you were making such good progress for her. Why would she want to start over with another variant of you, when you were just… so perfect for her? She still missed your Avenger variant, but every day that hole in her heart hurt just a little less. Besides, something about you specifically had a hold on her heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Maybe in the beginning Wanda might.. have gone searching for another if you had not panned out as she expected. Terrible as that was to admit. Instead, from the moment she laid eyes on you before even entering into this universe, she was gripped by you. It was Fate, she was sure of it. And now? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Of ever even trying to find another. Out of the vast multiverse, there was only this version of you. She wanted you as you were, and she refused to let you go or allow any harm to come to you. Even if it meant protecting you from herself.

A shuddering breath was exhaled, and Wanda began slowly rinsing the blood off of her face and out of her hair. She may have left you with a video game to keep yourself entertained, but Wanda knew from experience if she wasn’t there, it wouldn’t be too long before you would come looking. Wanda had become your rock, your favorite person. You could be playing your favorite game of all time, but if Wanda was not present, you wouldn’t have nearly as much fun. It was sort of cute how you would look for her at every opportunity, unable to stand being without her for too long. She felt similarly, and hoped you knew that now.

Finally clean, and deeming herself capable of functioning again, the witch changed into her most comfortable pajamas before mindlessly making her way back to the living room where you were. Absorbed in your game as you were, you only vaguely registered Wanda’s presence returning. You scooted slightly on the couch to make room for her, without ever taking your eyes away from the screen.

“Hey, Wands!” you said, enthusiastically. “How is your project coming along?”

The former hero was not ready to speak just yet, so she simply hummed instead, and leaned against you. She took comfort in your familiar warmth, even if your arms weren’t around her just now, your presence was enough to be soothing.

The lack of a proper response caught your attention. You almost didn’t turn to look at her, being in the midst of a pivotal battle, but you were glad you did. Hazel eyes puffy and tinted pink from crying met yours. Alarmed, you immediately stopped playing, controller forgotten in your lap, the game not even paused. Turning to the older woman, you placed one hand on her arm, the other to her cheek which she leaned in to.

“Wanda? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

Oh her precious detka, thought the witch. Always such a big heart, eager to provide comfort and aid. Perhaps if she were to tell you, maybe you would understand. Maybe you would forgive her. As she took in your concerned gaze though, she knew she wasn’t ready to risk it. Not right now. Instead, she shook her head to your question, unwilling to answer it.

“Can we not talk about it right now?” Her Sokovian accent was slightly more pronounced.

Though you were dying of curiosity as to what could bring someone so mighty to tears, you didn’t press. It’s not as if there would be something someone as powerless as you could do anything about whatever it was anyway. All you could do was ask and offer comfort. Wanda would tell you when she was ready. Until then, this was your opportunity to return some of the love and support she had provided you with, and you positively ached to bring that to her. Wordlessly, you pulled her into your arms, leaning back on the couch until she was laying atop your body. Murmuring gentle words of reassurance, you held her close, occasionally running your fingers through her auburn locks.

After a while, you grabbed the remote nearby and turned the tv from your video game to the DVD player. The Dick Van Dyke show began playing softly in the background, and Wanda’s chest bloomed with love for you at your thoughtfulness. She nuzzled further into your embrace, staying that way for the better part of the rest of the day as you both dozed intermittently.

Hours later Wanda slipped into a proper sleep, and once evening had rolled around, you took it upon yourself to cook dinner. Though you hadn’t wanted to part from the witch, she clearly needed the rest, and you wanted to surprise her by making dinner for her. Carefully you rolled her away from your chest and onto the couch instead, placing one of the pillows beneath her head. The only indication she registered any change was the slight, adorable scrunching of her nose. Why was this woman so damn cute?!

The kitchen had never been your chosen domain. Before Wanda, you were more likely to burn a pot of water than actually cook something successfully. Now you were hoping some of her lessons had rubbed off on you as you rummaged through the pantry and fridge trying to locate ingredients. With any luck you would be able to throw together and create something vaguely resembling an edible meal.

It was a pleasant surprise for you to discover that you currently had all the ingredients available to make Chicken Paprikash - Wanda’s favorite meal from her home in Sokovia. Going through her recipe note cards, it didn’t take you long to find it, and soon you were throwing seasonings in a pot along with some onions, tomatoes, peppers, and the chicken. While that was cooking, you prepared the noodles. A little under an hour later, and everything was coming together. You just hoped it wasn’t trash.

The aromatic and savory fragrance must have awoken the redhead because she sleepily padded her way into the kitchen to find her sweet surprise. You couldn’t see her yet, your back to her as you stirred the food while it simmered. Though unable to carry a tune to save your life, you were humming quietly to yourself with your earbuds firmly in place as you focused on making the delicious meal. Precious.

“Are you cooking, detka?” Wanda asked just loud enough to be heard over your music, and you jumped, startled. Blushing you turned to face the witch and grinned sheepishly.

“Uhh.. if you could call it that?” you chuckled, pulling out an earbud. “I just thought since you’re always taking such good care of me, maybe I could return the favor?” Voice lilting upwards almost in a question, hoping you hadn’t overstepped.

Moving to stand next to you and see what you had made, Wanda’s eyes widened as she took in the familiar dish. “Is this chicken paprikash?”

“Haha, yeah uhh.. my attempt at it at least?” You absentmindedly rubbed the back of your neck - a nervous tick you’re pretty sure you didn’t have as a child until you started watching anime to learn the nuances of facial expressions better. It wasn’t until well into adulthood you learned most people don’t actually do that. Embarrassed, you fought not to slap your own arm, and instead simply lower it like a normal person.

“I hope I didn’t butcher it too badly. I tried to follow the recipe you had on the card since we had all the ingredients, but I can’t speak to the integrity of the dish as I haven’t tasted it yet. Besides, you're the true connoisseur here, so even if it seems okay to me, your superior palate might be able to tell the difference.” The joke rolls easily off your tongue, followed by a quick wink.

To you this was no big deal, you were just trying to be kind. But to Wanda? This was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her, and it reminded her almost of when she taught your Avenger variant how to make the dish. The other you had never tried to make it for her in return however, opting simply to learn about the meal while Wanda cooked. Now, looking at the beautiful dinner you had created for her, simply because it was her favorite and might cheer her up, Wanda felt her heart about to burst with affection for you.

Unable to hold back, deft fingers gripped your neck softly, quickly pulling you in for a searing kiss. Pouring all her love, affection, and appreciation into the kiss. You were surprised, but not unhappy with this turn of events. It hadn’t been your goal, per se, a kiss from the woman you were coming to love. However, if she wasn’t melancholic anymore, then you considered your goal accomplished. Your arms came to wrap around her neck, though you were careful to keep the spoon from making contact with her clothing or hair, you had heard her take a shower earlier and didn’t want to ruin that for her.

The kiss simmered into something soft and sweet. Meanwhile your food, unfortunately, was starting to bubble over. Hearing it, the pair of you sprung apart, with you frantically pulling the pot off the eye of the stove, stirring it to return to the intended consistency. Embarrassed and amused, you both burst into giggles at the almost mishap.

“Thank you, Y/N. This is incredibly sweet of you, I-” The redhead pauses, unable to eloquently convey everything she felt in that moment. “Just, thank you.”

The wattage of your smile could have been seen from space; you were so happy. “Of course, Wands! Any time.”

While you turned off the stove, Wanda set the table so you could begin plating your dinner. Jokes and laughter flowed easily between you as you both enjoyed your meal. Wanda, who never doubted your cooking skills, though you are pleasantly surprised, enjoyed that the paprikash is not only edible but rather delicious.

As you and Wanda settled into the domesticity of it all, the witch found her heart becoming light once again. So incredibly kind and thoughtful, you brought her joy, and filled her with hope. She resolved then and there to tell you everything one day. Deserving of that much at the very least, Wanda prayed, hoping, with all her being, that you would forgive her when the truth was finally revealed. For now though she sank into the warmth and comfort you provided, falling for you just a little more with each grin you flashed her way.

A/N 2: I’m not proud of what I had Wanda do in this, but I still have some left-over rage for how Stephen treated Wanda. All she needed was a little empathy, especially from the man who made the call to allow the events with Thanos and the Mind stone to play out as they did, basically letting Vision die. For no good reason. No you can’t convince me he was right. Its lazy plot writing that out of thousands and thousands of possibilities, none of them could have involved sparing Vision, or at least making his death mean something. I’m a Wanda apologist first and foremost, and I will die on this hill. Wanda deserved better, especially from those she called “friends”. Also, I stan women’s wrongs 😛

Taglist: I remembered this time!! @dorabledewdroop

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader #yandere!Wanda #yandere wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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catsfor2 · 1 year

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hands ellie x artist!fem!reader

pt2 but can be read standalone pt 1 an: shocked to see the interaction on my first post (also super, super happy, ty :))honestly, i like this part more than the first one i wrote. pls. pls request/submit asks, i will gladly do them ! !

@prettyplant0

warnings: UNEDITED, mild smut, fluff, hand + finger kink, mild drug use (alcohol + weed)

You were undoubtedly not a party person. Not that you'd really had the chance to figure that out too many times, but after the first 20 minutes of tonight, you knew for sure.

Ellie however? Not the life of the party or anything, but the loose and confident energy she held was undeniable. She had the ability to make you swoon from across the room. And clearly the rest of Jackson has also noticed, as they huddle around her almost magnetically.

You absolutely were not trying to avoid anyone, but somehow, you have been left out. Sidelined. Othered. It's strange, as most of the town had quickly familiarized themselves with you and your creativity. But now, in this tattered party shack off the edge of the woods, you were nobody again.

"Hey! Hey! Are you fucking listening?"

Suddenly, Ellie's in your face, waving her bottle of beer around as she shouts. She laughs before taking another swig. "Are you thereee?"

"Oh fuck, sorry. Kind of zoned out I guess." You say.

"I see that. Why are you over here?" She asks.

"I don't know, I kind of-"

She cuts you off by grabbing your arm and hoisting you off the low couch. She pulls hard enough to hurt.

"Doesn't matter- we're playing pong. You don't need to do anything, I just need a partner, so..."

"Yeah, fine. Are you, like, drunk drunk? Right now?" You question, almost regretfully, not wanting to overstep. It's just that her hands are climbing up and down your arms, mindlessly, almost like she just can't help but to feel your skin.

"Well...ha...kinda," She rolls her eyes, "why?"

Before you can answer she speaks again, the hand resting on your shoulder starting to drift upwards towards your ear.

"Actually- don't tell Dina- but I'm kinda high right now also," She says, her voice getting quieter as she continues. Her fingers fiddle with the jewelry on your left ear again. You changed them for the party, (something almost unnoticeable to the average person) but Ellie can't seem to keep her hands off of them.

You pause.

"Um, why shouldn't I tell her?"

Ellie stares at you for a moment, like she's deciding on whether or not to tell you the truth. It almost hurts to see her not automatically say what's on her mind.

"Cause last night I got fuckin- I got fucked up, basically. Dina made me promise to not drink and smoke together again,"

Her hand inches up to your forehead as she talks, where her thumb starts to fidget with the clips spread through your hair.

"And Dina always tells me, 'Ellie you're like an insecure guy when you drink. Always trying to pick people up and lift random shit,'" She takes the last swig of her beer before tossing the bottle on the couch.

"And yeah, I do that, but at-"

"Get in here dicks, pong's starting!" A voice yells, cutting Ellie off.

Jesse whips a ping pong ball at the back of Ellie's head, successfully taking her attention from you. He quickly picks it up before letting out a warm drunken laugh.

"Oh shit, is Ellie putting the moves on you? Y'know more than three beers and she's-"

"Shut the fuck up Jesse. Y/N, lets go.

Jesse just laughs again while Ellie grabs your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

"You didn't mention that Ellie," You look up at her, hyper-aware of how often she stares at your lips ever since that morning in her house. "are you a player?"

She scoffs before flicking your head.

"Uh, no. I just...like talking to pretty girls at parties," Her flannel whips behind her as you finally enter the kitchen. "is that a fucking crime or something?"

People crowd around a table, set with various cups, all filled slightly with some sort of liquor. Dina and Jesse stand at the other end of the table, attempting to un-dent the only ping pong ball they've found so far.

Ellie's arm snakes around your waist before you hear her voice beside you.

"I might need to hold onto you, by the way, I've had--like--four beers and a shot."

Your face heats as you think of all the people in the room seeing her arm wrapped so tightly around your midsection. As you fumble to say yeah, of course Ellie, she glues the side of her body to yours, making sure her hand stays firmly on your waist.

Ellie almost falls over trying to get closer edge of the table.

"Hey everyone! Hey! From now on, y/n is my designated pong partner! No fuckin' arguments."

A shocked laugh escapes you immediately.

"Ellie!...Jesus..."

"What? You're my girl right? I've got to let 'em know you're my girl," She assures.

"Well with the way you've been holding me..."

Ellie's smile widens.

"I feel like they'd figure it out..." You finish.

"Yeah? And how have I been holding you?"

Your eyes dart back to Dina and Jesse and all the other people in the room before meeting up with hers again.

"Like...like I'm gonna...run away, or something," You say.

"Yeah, well...what if you do?" Her grip on you loosens just a bit. "You did the other morning. You were all yes Ellie, touch me, and then when I went for the pencils and came back you were gone!"

Your blushed cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. Your voice comes out slightly shaky when you talk.

"I--I got nervous! I'm sorry! And with the way you were so mad at first?"

You let out a breath of air you didn't realize you'd been holding. "I was questioning if you really wanted me there at all."

Her eyebrows crease. Then, almost as if to block you from view, she turns the both of you so that your back is facing the wall closest by. Her face gets near enough to yours that you smell the yeasty tang of those four beers on her tongue.

"Oh sweetheart. I almost fingered you after knowing you for like, 10 minutes. You think I don't want you?"

Your skin warms as you process what she's saying. You want to back up and let her crowd you against the wall. The way her hips shift against yours, not touching but close enough to feel every jut sets your insides buzzing. You can't repress a shiver from the sensation. Or the cold- your skirt is on the shorter side.

"Reeally cute when you get speechless like that," Ellie breaths out, tugging at the neck of her flannel and taking it off. "here. Since you wanted to wear something you know you'd freeze in. Like an idiot."

You spacily grab it out of her hands, and as you do, she takes it back from your grasp while shaking her head.

"I got it. Arms out, c'mon," as she starts to put her flannel over your shoulders, she continues. "I have an idea. How about weee...ditch this party. And smoke the joint I have hidden in the shed right now."

"Are you sure? You're already pretty drunk-"

"I won't smoke that much. Maybe a hit or two. I'll let you have most of it," She grins.

Reluctant to make her miss the rest of the party and lively night in general, you keep pushing.

"Yeah, but, the pong game? Right?"

Ellie laughs, throwing her arm around your shoulders and resting it there. Her bicep being so close to your face makes you dizzy. It feels dirty to admit you don't mind how strong she smells there--unsurprising after a night of partying.

"Just let me treat you, alright? High under the stars. Forget about your worries. That kinda shit." Her finger twirls a strand of your hair as she waits for you to answer.

"Yeah. Of course. That sounds really...lovely." You say, too focused on the weight of her body across your back.

"Ok. Good. Great. I'm gonna tell Dina we're going."

Instead of walking over to Dina, Ellie simply screams over the jumble of conversation until Dina hears, and responds, also screaming across the noise.

"Perfect. Let's head out, pretty lady."

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

You've only taken three hits, but you know you feel something. The greeny ash taste in your throat hasn't gone away, despite you consistently sipping your water.

"How's it feeling?" Ellie asks you, relishing in her fourth puff despite telling you earlier she would take less. You don't mind.

You'd both been slouched on the floor upon a blanket, picnic style, Ellie leaned against your side and her hand starting to creep up the outside of your thigh.

"Good...I guess. I feel warm. Like, cozy." And you did.

Truthfully, you were also a bit on edge. Like, sexually on edge. The blanket heat of the weed with Ellie's presence has you constantly wet and burning. Aching. Of course, that's not something you'd tell Ellie.

"Are you gonna teach me how to roll it?" You ask. "I want to do it next time."

"Next time?" She questions, dramatically opening her eyes.

"I, I mean, you want to hang out with me again...right?"

"Obviously! I'm fuckin' with you," she covers her mouth to laugh before grabbing your hand.

"And, no, I'm not teachin' you how to roll. I'll do it for you. No need for you to learn sweetheart."

When Ellie says things so simply like that, especially in that tone, you have no choice but to go along. You can't bring yourself to push back against something that makes you feel so tingly.

"Oh. Ok." You mumble, staring at her hand encompassing yours.

"It's far easier to just let my hands do all the work," She squeezes your thumb. "right?"

"Yeah-yes. Far easier." You say.

Ellie drags her thumb across your knuckles. Her eyelids droop slightly, eyes shaded a light pink, and her is face flushed from the alcohol. She's so, so beautiful, and you wish you could will the courage to tell her.

"I wore the skirt 'cause I thought you'd like it." You voice, eyes unable to meet her's as you talk. "Do you?"

She lets out a breath.

"Fuck. Fuck, of course I fucking like it. You're so pretty in it." Her hand inches under your skirt, finally grasping towards your upper thigh and edging the hem of your panties.

A brisk exhale escapes your lips as her fingers drift, navigating the plush of your hips expertly. As if she's already planned on where and how to touch you.

"Hey where'd you go? Keep your hand on mine," Ellie grabs your loose hand, which had wandered to your side, and places it firmly on her hand grasping your underwear. "and don't let go."

"Ellie..." you huff, burning hot all over.

"What, this is too much for you? I haven't even done anything yet."

You feel her palm, big and warm, cup you through the fabric and knead, forcefully but slowly rubbing your clit and watching your face for a reaction. Your hand still clutches over hers and you can feel her muscles flex in tune with the heavy pressure on your folds.

Your mouth parts open, lips shiny and untouched as your head looms closer to Ellie's. Her eyes remain locked on yours as her fingers move faster, and it becomes difficult for you to keep your hand on hers as she speeds up.

"Hah--Ellie," You gasp, eyes a bit watery from the sudden stimulation.

Something in her eyes shift and her face is moving closer to yours, her free hand enveloping one side of your face. Ellie kisses you hastily, smearing saliva over both of your mouths. Your teeth clack together, and her tongue is rampant, licking deeply into the kiss. She sucks and bites at your lips, ravaging them, while her other hand still palms you consistently, the strength of her entire arm grinding against your pussy.

The hand on your face reaches to fondle your breast, clawing at your shirt with force to feel underneath your bra. Her hand, despite its size compared to yours, still can't grab your entire breast. Ellie lets out a groan at the sight of you spilling out of her fingers.

Interrupting the both of you, a small metal trinket falls out of the band of your bra and onto the floor.

"Oh--shit, I forgot I was keeping that there," You say, immediately picking it up and holding it to your side.

"Uhm...what is that?" Ellie asks, eyes still partly drawn to where your skirt has ridden up, exposing a part of your ass.

You notice her gaze and mindlessly fix your skirt before picking the item up. The star-shaped rock on the front of the ring took you hours to tediously chip down due to the tiny size. It was worth it to possibly please Ellie.

"It's--well, remember the ring?" You rotate it forward, showing off the small star emblem like its a priceless diamond. "I made it. For you."

"Holy-holy shit! That's so fucking cute! You're so fuckin' cute!" She says in between short laughs. "I can't believe you actually like...made it." She puts the ring on the middle finger of her left hand, pleased with the way it fits perfectly.

"Y'know, now, you jus need to wear something that has a star like mine. So we match."

Her words make you smile wide, also while painting your face rose.

"I actually—my belly," You lift your shirt a tad, exposing the bottom lace of your bra but also the tiny piercing on your bellybutton. "the shape is a star, but-I swear, completely unintentional."

"Oh, shit. That's...cute." She murmurs, leaning closer to your stomach to give it a kiss. "Yeah, 'unintentional', my ass."

You slap her wrist lightly. "Oh shut up,"

Her hand again travels up your legs to reach your thigh, only to pause and retract for a moment. Ellie then takes the ring off of her left hand and triumphantly places it onto her right.

Oh.

"Ok, Ellie, that's like a tiny bit gross-"

"I'll clean it. I promise. I just feel like- I need to baptize it, or something, y'know?" She assures, lips curving up into a sly smile.

"Shut up." You quip. "You really must be high or something."

“We’re both high babe. It fucking reeks in here.”

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie fic #ellie x fem reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #lesbian #catsfor2

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mountymase · 1 year

Text

invisible string - part four

“Tell me everything about her. Everything I missed”

pairing: reader x mason mount summary: It’s been you and your daughter until life decides to prank you by putting her dad back into your life. The only problem is that he doesn’t know he’s her dad.

warnings: fluff, angst, a bit of swearing, mentions of childbirth author: pls do not ask when part five is coming 🫠🥹🥲 thank you for all the support, though! I love each and all of you. word count: 5.328k

PART THREE

“How do you think the girls will react when we tell them?” Jaz questioned, sipping her chamomile tea.

“Knowing Lily, she’ll be over the moon.” You watched Jaz sigh deeply, a wide smile spread across her lips. She knew the answer but you could tell she needed some sort of reassurance. “I’m an only child, so besides school and ballet, she spends most of her time with adults. With my dad, especially. It’ll be great for her.”

“It’s the same for Sum. My sister lives in Australia with her husband and two kids, and it’ll be great for Summer to have a cousin she can see anytime she wants.”

Cousins. It still made you catch your breath how fast this was going although only Jaz, Sam and your friend Willow knew the truth. Perhaps fast was good and you wouldn’t feel like being tortured trying to figure out the best moment to drop the truth.

Jaz ordered another slice of chocolate cake for herself and asked for an extra fork so she’d share it with you, although you made it clear you tried to keep a strict diet since you gave birth to Lily, with your schedule sometimes being too tight to hit the gym every day. You enjoyed this bond you were building, you could see Jasmine slowly becoming someone you could trust with your eyes closed and, afterall, she was your daughter’s aunt. There was so much to build around this, so much trust and, eventually, love - but you could see it, clear as the day. You could see her becoming one of your best friends and also someone Lily could count on.

“He’s coming home from Dubai tonight, you know.” Resting both hands on her bump, Jaz carefully watched your reaction to the news. “And he wants to surprise Summer by picking her up after ballet tomorrow, so…”

“I don’t want him to see us yet.” You swallowed the knot that formed on your throat, taking a sip of your strawberry tea hoping its warmth would comfort you. Jasmine nodded, knowing where you were coming from.

“Make up something and don’t bring Lily, and show up for lunch at my place on Saturday. Mase usually goes there in the afternoons.”

“Saturday afternoon, then?” Lowering your gaze, you rubbed your eyes with your palms and before you could rest your hand on the table again, Jaz reached out to hold it.

“You’ll be fine. Sam can take the girls out, I’ll be around, but you have to tell him.” She squeezed your hand and you just nodded. “We should go now.”

Driving in London wasn’t your favourite thing to do unless there was music on and you had Lily giggling at your terrible singing skills - you took an alternative and longer way home so the music wouldn’t be the only sound that was making you happy. You watched through the rearview how Lily moved her shoulders up and down to the beat, making funny faces to herself, thinking you weren’t watching at all when there was really nothing you enjoyed more than seeing how your daughter could enjoy herself. When you finally arrived home, Lily ran off to her room and went back holding her towel and unicorn robe on each hand, knowing that’d be enough for you to know she wanted a bubble bath.

“You know what I was thinking, Lils?” You asked, massaging her head as you breathed in the lovely smell of baby shampoo. Lily kept her eyes closed but softly hummed a ‘hmm’. “Girls day tomorrow. I’m missing spending time with my favourite girl.”

“School, mummy.” Loving how responsible she was for a girl her age, you kissed her wet cheek before you started to rinse her hair.

“I know, sweetheart, don’t worry about that. Focus on the fun.”

And she did.

Lily woke up first the next day, snuggled under the duvet with you and you two stayed there, eyes closed, for at least an hour. By how peaceful her breathing was, you could tell she took a nap even if all the little girl wanted was to enjoy the day as much as she could. The plan was not leaving the flat and just staying in, watching Disney and Pixar films, cooking her the most delicious spag bol just so you’d see those chubby cheeks stained with red sauce, baking her chocolate chip biscuits and cuddling on the sofa all day. Only when you were watching Moana and Lily started yawning from waking up too early, and she snuggled in your arms hiding her face against your chest, was that you realised it was the last day of just Lily and mummy. A new person was about to walk into your lives and turn it upside down but the truth was that Mason should’ve always been part of it.

On her last birthday, once everyone left, Lily confessed that her birthday wish was having her daddy with her. Then, on Christmas, she asked again, hoping he’d come. You knew she’d be happy and Lily never worried you, she was too wise for a girl her age.

What got you wondering for hours was what kind of dad he’d be? With such an inconsistent and busy schedule, would he be there for her? Would he love and accept her?

Would he take her away from you?

No.

Pulling her closer as you noticed that Lily was now peacefully sleeping, you paused the film and closed your eyes as the softness of her dark brown hair touched your face. You had your arms around her, protecting her as you’ve been doing since you found out she was growing inside you. No one would ever take that kid from you and you hoped Mason wouldn’t dream of trying because you weren’t up for a fight that everyone would end up losing. You just wanted him to be the dad she needed so much, something your dad would never be able to because it wasn’t the same. You only woke up again when Lily started to move in your arms and tiny hands cupped your jaw as she kissed your entire face.

“Sleepy mummy.” Lily kissed your eyelids, the tip of your nose and softly squeezed your cheeks. “I’m hungry.”

“Spag bol?”

You watched her jump on the sofa and perfectly land on the floor before running and spinning around the flat, happily nodding to your suggestion. It was funny, but it wasn't unusual for you seeing her so happy and so full of energy. With your hair up in a messy bun, you made your way to the kitchen with Lily on your feet - she raised both arms so you could lift her and put her on the chair next to the counter. She patiently waited for some fruits that you perfectly cut in small cubes, it was usually her pre lunch snack. You giggled at the ‘mhmm yummy’ she hummed and, watching her as you prepared the sauce, you thought what her reaction would be. Not only towards Mason, but mostly towards you even if this wasn’t about you.

Would she hate you? Would she stop talking to you?

Would she want to leave and stay with her dad?

No.

For a moment, you wanted to take your daughter and run away. That same feeling of you feeling suffocated creeping in again, pulling you out of that comfort zone you’ve been in for the past four years of yours and Lily’s life. Things would be different now and you could only hope it was for the better because that’s what Lily could bring into people’s lives - nothing but good things.

“Is it yummy, kid?” You had a smile curling the sides of your lips as you watched her devour her spaghetti, some red sauce stains on her cheeks, making Lily the most adorable sight you’ve seen in the longest time. She cheerfully nodded at you, blowing a kiss.

“So much, mummy. Thank you!” With your index finger, you poked her dimple and pulled away a string of dark brown hair, putting it behind her ear.

“Should we go for a bubble bath and then have dessert?” Wiggling her chubby legs, Lily nodded and clapped her hands once she finished her meal, and then raised one of her hands so you could give her a high five - which you obviously did, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for that girl.

For the rest of the day, it was just you having the most fun. You two baked and had the chocolate chip biscuits - she asked to keep some for Summer, which you agreed - and watching NatGeo, one of her favourite things to do, but you couldn’t fully focus on whatever the man on the TV said about the african elephants daily routine because your mind was somewhere else. On someone else, actually.

You were going to see Mason for the first time since you tried to tell him about Lily and that definitely opened some old wounds, it brought the hurt back even if that was also one of the happiest days of your life. You remembered how having Lily’s dad around, it didn’t matter who he was, would’ve made such a huge difference during your pregnancy… how it would’ve made such a huge difference each day since she was born. Yes, you should’ve insisted, maybe - but he should’ve let you talk. Mason was also to blame for Lily not having her dad around, and you knew there were bigger chances of it all turning into a situation where you’d point your fingers at each other, finding someone to blame, instead of just being there for her. That’s why you went to bed repeating to yourself that you wouldn’t let it happen, that you’d be there for Lily even if, someday, she pushed you away.

And again, Mason Mount was there to haunt you in your dreams.

When you woke up the next day, earlier than you should have when you took your phone to check the time, you noticed there were a few texts from Willow wishing you the best of luck today and that she’d be there for whatever you needed, that Lily couldn’t have a better mum - one that always fought so hard to see her happy even if it meant pushing your own happiness away.

You didn’t want to wake up your daughter so you stayed there, in bed, as if the ceiling was the most interesting thing in the world. Maybe you could decide on something to wear? Deep down, you wanted to look good and show him you’ve been just fine all these years - as if he’d even care. Silly.

You decided to text Jaz.

You were in silence for a few seconds when you answered the call, the two of you hearing each other’s breath, trying to let today’s events sink in and allowing it to become a reality rather than your daily meetings for tea over the week. It was real now, you were only a few hours away from telling Mason that he had a daughter and Jasmine was pretty much your partner in crime. It still overwhelmed you the fact she was on your side and, not once, pointed a finger at you and your decisions - you knew it came from the fact she was a mum too.

Finally, she told you how things went with Mason the day before. Jaz said she had to tell him a lie, asking him to come over again in the afternoon and spend the day with Summer because Sam would be out with the boys and she was too tired to spend the day alone. You thanked her, multiple times, making sure she’d forever know how grateful you were for all the support and you got a sniff in return, with Jaz blaming mostly the pregnancy hormones for feeling emotional. You said your goodbyes when you heard Lily’s voice calling you from the electronic babysitter.

“Good morning, peanut.” You said with a smile, watching her stretching up her arms and legs with a groan, puffy eyes and messy hair making your heart melt. “Hungry?”

“Mhmm. Can I have pancakes, mummy?”

“Absolutely, love.” Sitting on her bed, you cradled Lily in your arms, lips brushing her forehead. “You’re spending the day with Summer and her daddy today.”

Still sleepy, she reacted to the news with a little leg wiggle and gave you the tightest morning hug.

As you prepared her breakfast, you were still on the ‘this is the last time I’m doing this where it’s just us’ roll from the day before. After today, you hoped Mason would make her pancakes too, you hoped the three of you could have breakfast together and make up for the lost time where Lily didn’t have parents and just a mum, instead. You knew that it didn’t matter how invested you were, how hard you tried to be the best mum in the world, a girl growing up without a dad was wrong and your own father couldn’t be the father figure she needed, even if he was a great one it wasn’t his place.

You bathed her, brushed her hair and let her go pick an outfit to spend her day with her bestie and, possibly, meet her daddy. You always let Lily pick whatever she wanted to wear after reading in a book that it helped children to be more independent and creative, although you knew that was just Lily’s personality.

*****

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat anything,” You confessed, watching Jaz place the salad bowl on the counter, gesturing you to take it to the table. “But thank you for cooking, anyway.”

Anticipating you wouldn’t behave normally, Sam was kind enough to take the girls out earlier than planned and promised to feed them with healthy stuff for lunch so the afternoon would be all about whatever they wanted. He texted Jaz some photos of Summer and Lily in the backseat of his car, making the funniest faces while they were stuck in traffic.

“I didn’t do much, to be honest.” Jaz shrugged, a soft giggle parting her lips. “Grilling some chicken is nothing.”

“It’s more than anything I’d be able to do now. How are you so calm, Jaz?”

Jasmine shook her head. “I’m not but I’m trying my best, for her.” She pointed at her bump and you felt bad for putting a pregnant woman under so much stress. “I know my brother, Y/n. It’ll be a shock at first but once he gets used to the idea… he’ll be the best dad Lily could ask for.”

You could only hope she was right. While you had lunch, your mind went back to Mason again, but this time it wasn’t what kind of dad he’d be to Lily, but more what you could expect he’d be to you too. First, you wondered if he’d recognise you, how he’d treat you first and how he’d treat you after. Memories of that night flooded your mind, the way he touched you still very much alive, making you shiver. His smile, his raspy voice praising you, his lips on your skin… all those memories were two sides of the same coin. They were great, but also a torture.

There was never a denial coming from you that you didn’t fall hard for him the following month, while the possibility of becoming parents hung above your heads. You fell even harder once Lily became a reality and, unfortunately, a lot more although he shoved you off without letting you tell him about her existence. Then, convincing yourself that Mason would never be part of your life, you put him and all that love inside an imaginary box and locked it all there. You forced yourself to turn him into something small that would never affect your life and now you had to open that box again, ignoring the fact that there was a big chance all that love was still there.

“I think he’s here, earlier than expected.” Jaz groaned when the noise of a car parking outside filled the room, looking at your untouched food with a sad look. “I know it’s cold outside, but go breathe in some cold air to clear your head.”

You just nodded, quickly getting up and just ignoring everything else as your eyes now burned with hot tears that’d roll down your cheeks soon or later. Feeling your chest clench, you hugged yourself when the cold air welcomed you. You swallowed the lump on your throat, blinking repeatedly, not wanting to cry now but when you heard Mason’s voice and laugh greeting his sister you broke down. Not sure if your body was shaking from the cold or the anxiety that washed over you, you hugged yourself even tighter finally realising that this was it, the moment it wasn’t just you and Lily anymore and this third person who had every right to be part of her life would bring many others with him.

Breathe in, breathe out. Wipe your tears, stop shaking.

You repeated it as a mantra walking back inside, feeling more relaxed when the warmth and the smell of lavender engulfed you in what felt like a safety bubble, and feeling safe was what you needed now.

“Jaz?”

“She’s upstairs.” You gasped when you heard his voice coming from the kitchen, your only instinct was to follow it until you could see him sitting on the stool, arms supporting his body on the counter. Mason smiled when he watched you coming closer. “I’m her brother, Mason.” He stretched his arm, waiting for you to shake his hand but it quickly dropped to the side of his body. His big brown eyes narrowed at you as you chewed the inside of your cheek. “I know you.”

You nodded, a long and deep sigh parting your lips. “Hello, Mason. It’s been a while.”

“Miss champagne.” Mason shook his head apparently not believing it was you, the nickname taking you back to a night where things were just.. simple, and fun. Surprisingly, he stood up and walked towards you with arms wide open, then he simply hugged you. As if he hadn’t been an idiot the last time you had contact. “It’s lovely to see you again. How do you know my sister?”

“Our daughters take ballet class together.” You pulled away from him, intoxicated by his warmth and cologne, and he just frowned at you.

Focus.

“You have a daughter?” The fact, somehow, seemed to amuse him. His eyes widened, a big smile spread across his lips. “Oh, I think I met her on FaceTime! Lily, isn’t?”

Hearing her name coming from his lips felt like the most beautiful and poetic stab straight into your heart. You simply nodded, not being able to say anything else. Not being able to form a simple sentence, let alone tell him that Lily was his too. Still, the silence that fell between you wasn’t entirely awkward, nor uncomfortable. You noticed that as he watched you, Mason had a soft smile on his lips.

“What is it?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think about you sometimes.”

“Do tell me more about it.” You scoffed, thinking how outrageous that was but with part of you also swooning at his confession. Your attitude made a soft flush spread across his cheeks.

Yes, you should feel ashamed. Idiot.

“Declan often talks about that night and I thought about trying to find you, multiple times. To apologise for ghost-“

“You never let me tell what I had to tell.” You interrupted him, watching Mason raise an eyebrow. “That day I went to your place. You just… you were the most polite idiot on the planet. I wasn’t there because I wanted to be friends with you.”

“Oh? Do you still have something to tell me or is it too late?” His eyebrows now frowned in confusion, ironically waiting for you to finish.

You just sighed, his words slowly making your blood boil under your skin. If he behaved like this for the rest of your lives, it was going to be tough. “I went there to tell you about her, Mason.”

“About her…?”

“Lily.”

“You went to my place to tell me about Lily?” If Mason was a cartoon, there’d be some smoke hanging above his head as his brain tried to put your words together and finally realise what exactly you meant.

“Why else would her second name be Maisie other than you being her dad, Mason?”

Mason gasped, both hands firmly holding the counter as he forced himself to stand up. His jaw dropped, his brown eyes were wide open and his cheeks flushed hard. You watched as he started breathing heavier, his chest quickly moving up and down as he tried to catch a breath and calm his nerves. He was a dad.

He wasn’t sure what to say, how to react, but the feeling that clenched his chest and made him want to vomit once he realised he missed years of that girl’s life, it hit him like a punch on his throat, stomach and every other place it’d make him feel that way.

“Y-you went there,” He took a long, deep breath. “To tell me that you were p-pregnant?”

“Yes.”

There was nothing left to say, unless he asked, but Mason was in silence for a few minutes and, this time, it bothered you. Still, you tried to focus on the fact that even if this whole situation was difficult, you felt lighter after telling him. You watched him open his mouth to say something, but each time he stopped and looked away, and you could see he was hurt. Mason sniffed a few times, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Are you also telling me I’ve missed years of her life, Y/n?” That was a slap on your face. Lowering your gaze, not really able to look at him, you just nodded. “You should’ve insisted.”

“And you should’ve noticed how miserable I was on that day, when you politely shoved me off.”

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“That’s not the point, Mason. From that day, it doesn’t matter how hurt I was or am, nothing really matters except for the fact that for some stupid reason, I’m only here today because life decided it’d be fun for your niece to go to the same ballet studio as my daugh-“ You sighed. “Our daughter.”

“You’d never tell me if it wasn’t for that, then?” He asked, apparently shocked.

“It was enough for me to be rejected, I don’t want Lily to go through the same.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say this, because you clearly don’t know me, but I would never reject my kid.”

Deep down, you wanted to smile. That was what you needed to listen, that he wouldn’t reject Lily, because in the end it was all about her. Instead, you just nodded, a sigh of relief parting your lips without you even noticing. You were both in silence again, your minds working on something to say that wouldn’t end up in a heated argument because there was no point now - it’d be a massive waste of time.

“Would you-hmm…” You cleared your throat, taking your phone from the back pocket of your jeans as Mason watched you, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “See pictures of her? There’s videos too.”

Mason frowned, but was quick to nod and mumble several yeses as he rubbed his palms on his hoodie, clearly trying to control his emotions. You were closer to each other again, sitting on the stool. You thought it’d be a good idea to just start from the beginning, same way you did with Jaz - it worked, and you could only hope it’d have the same result with Mason.

Opening that same gallery you had only pictures of Lily, you could swear the sides of his lips were curled into the softest smile before you opened the first picture. You, the tiniest bump, in front of the mirror and looking absolutely miserable. You thought of telling how the pregnancy was, not really sure if he’d want to know, and the only idea you had to interact with Mason was giving him your phone so he could see for himself and feel comfortable to ask you whatever he wanted as you were just sitting there, feeling like you could cry any minute.

When he finally opened a picture of what you remembered as the 8th month of your pregnancy, Mason spent a few minutes just staring at it.

“Did she move a lot?” He asked, eyes glued to the picture. Mason softly brushed his thumb over it, as if he wanted to touch your bump and you had to blink multiple times or tears would roll down your cheeks at this point.

“Mhmm,” You mumbled, sniffing. Mason looked at you, moving closer when he noticed your eyes sparkling with tears. Then, in his own way of trying to comfort you, he held your pinky with his. You gulped. “She kicked a lot, right on my ribs, and so hard I had to catch my breath.”

His giggle was mostly repeated gasps, as if it somehow Lily’s kicking abilities amused him. Or made him proud. Not for kicking you, obviously… but for having a strong kick.

Then, Mason opened a video of you in the front seat of your dad’s car, clearly in pain, your mum and Willow in the back with the latter filming the whole thing - you held your bump with both hands, still smiling through the pain and, occasionally, reached for your dad’s hands. ‘Lily is ready to take over the world, everyone!’ Willow said, and the video ended with you screaming as the next contraction hit. You laughed at the memory.

“I’m sorry.” Mason simply said, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “For causing you so much physical pain.”

“Don’t be silly.” You softly elbowed his rib, getting a short nod from him.

You watched him blush a little when the next pictures were mostly you inside the birthing pool. Mason thought that, despite looking exhausted and clearly in pain, you looked absolutely beautiful. But part of him couldn’t ignore how hurt he felt once he realised how much he wanted to be there, to watch his daughter make her first appearance.

His daughter.

This time, it was Mason who sniffed. Not letting your hand go, he dropped your phone on the counter and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, took the longest breath and took your phone again. And this time, it was you who rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb.

For the next hour, you watched him open every single video and every single photo of the Lilian Maisie gallery on your phone. There were photos there that not even you remembered existed, and you thought it was particularly emotional when you caught him pressing the heart button on a few of them. You’d make sure to send him those as soon as you could, deep down knowing he’d definitely like it.

The last photo of the gallery was one taken on her fourth birthday party at your parent’s cottage in Cotswolds, Lily had her arms over the table, supporting her body, and those big brown eyes sparkled with happiness for seeing her family there celebrating her. Mason took his own phone from his pocket and opened a picture of himself, placing your phones next to one another so you two could compare.

“Well, fuck-” You breathed. “I knew she looked a lot like you, but-”

His laugh interrupted you and it was him now, elbowing your rib. “She’s perfect.”

You nodded, a long sigh parting your lips and, then, a soft smile curling the sides of it.

“Lily is incredible, Mason. Whenever you feel ready to meet her, you’ll see how easy it is to fall in love with that tiny human, whatever kind of love you’re capable of giving her now.”

“I liked the sound of her laugh when I FaceTimed Summer and she was there.”

“It’s the sound of true happiness.”

“Tell me everything about her, Y/n. Everything I missed.”

“Gosh, Mason…” There he was again, rubbing the back of your hand, his pinky playing with yours. Such an intimate gesture, as it should be, because you both shared a life. Someone who would need both of you for as long as you’d live. “I don’t even know where to begin. But according to Jaz, she’s all you. Lily is just… happy. All the time, she has the most beautiful smile on her face and this endless energy I hardly can keep up with.”

“Sounds like me, yeah.” Mason lowered his gaze, focused on his finger playing with yours. “I wish you had insisted, Y/n.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to punch you and make you listen, but your reaction hurt me so much and those first few weeks were so hard, Mason.” You sniffed, finally feeling a single tear rolling down your cheek. “I don’t even know how I got there, I felt so weak all the time. That minimum effort of going to your place and those emotions cost me four days at the hospital.”

“I don’t know exactly how we are going to do this, but I hope you let me be part of her life.”

“Of course I let you, Mason. You don’t even have to ask. You’re all she’s been wishing for, ever since she noticed there was someone missing.”

When he was about to answer, clearly moved by the fact she missed having him in her life, Jaz walked into the kitchen with her face all red and puffy eyes from crying. He let go of your hand with a groan and it felt like the loss of contact made part of you feel empty.

“I obviously overheard the whole thing but I’m just here to say that Sam is back with the girls, they should be here any minute.”

“This is not how I want to meet her.” He turned to look at you, grabbed your phone again and added his number back on your contacts. “Text me your address and I’ll be there tonight so it can be just us.”

Not knowing what to say, you nodded, and Mason kissed Jaz’s cheeks and whispered her a ‘thank you’ before disappearing upstairs. Before Jaz could say something, you heard the front door open and the two girls rush into the house, loud laughs filling every room, warming your heart. But you also felt your head spinning with things happening so quickly.

“Muuummyyyy!” You heard Lily’s voice call you, and your first instinct was to smile, even before she showed up with arms wide open ready to hug you. It felt like after telling Mason, she looked even more like him - Lily’s whole energy screamed Mason.

“Hello, my baby,” You cooed, arms tightly wrapped around her small figure as Lily cupped your face with her hands and kissed your cheek. “Mummy’s got a surprise for you tonight. Shall we go home?”

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount series #mason mount x reader

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Text

lavender haze (dark mode)

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank castle never imagined he would ever fall in love again, and he certainly never imagined love could feel like this.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of sexual content (minors pls dni), mentions of pregnancy, a lil angst

word count: 8.6k

a/n: your eyes do not deceive you, this is a repost! the first time I posted this, there was some kind of glitch that changed the color of the text which made it impossible to read on dark mode. I was unable to fix it, and i've been waiting for that glitch to be fixed. it hasn't happened with any of my, or anyone else's posts lately, so it seemed like the right time to repost this for anyone that wasn't able to read it the first time because of the dark mode issue. I truly appreciate everyone being so patient, and even reaching out to me about reposting because you wanted to be able to read it. that makes my lil heart so happy, you have no idea. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

tags: @hellskitchens-whore

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don’t ever say too much

And you don’t really read into

My melancholia

Frank didn’t know how you did it. You always seemed to just…know. You knew when he felt like talking. You knew when he didn’t. You knew when he wanted to listen to you talk about your day. You knew when he needed comfortable silence. You could tell when he wanted your touch, and when he needed to be left alone. You posed all of your questions meticulously with caution, always stopping an inch before the invisible boundary he had created. You didn’t take offense to his brooding moods that emerged from a detour into the past. You didn’t cover your ears at the silence that echoed when he got lost in the disconsolate caverns in his mind. You didn’t flinch at the scars you could touch, or the ones you could hear in his intermittent vulnerability. You seemed to understand him in a way no one ever had before. Sometimes Frank felt like you understood him more than he even did.

He gazed down at you as your eyes stayed fixated up at the ceiling. Today had been a bad day. He couldn’t remember if he had even asked if you were home before his fist was colliding with your front door, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't even noticed he was holding until your face came into focus. Did he even say hello to you? Did he utter anything at all? He couldn’t remember. Somehow the two of you had ended up on the floor by your record player, your head resting comfortably in his lap, as Elton John’s Rocket Man flowed through the speakers. He could hear you humming faintly as your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your palm delicately stretched out towards him in case he wanted to hold it, or simply letting him know you were there if he didn’t.

Music was how the two of you communicated sometimes. It was how you tried to relate to him when your own words weren’t enough. When he was quiet like this, your choices in music were more purposeful, to either let him know you understood some of what he felt, or to try to soothe the ache with what you knew he enjoyed. Sometimes Frank feared you really could read his mind, especially in moments like these when you seemed to know exactly what he needed without a single word. Even before he knew what he needed. He hated the thought of you being able to see into the carnage that occupied his skull. Of course he knew that was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t even know if you knew what you could do, and if you were aware, you never showed it.

Frank hadn’t had someone to run to in a long time. Someone he didn’t feel like a burden to in doing so. It had taken him longer than he’d like to admit to be comfortably exposed with you. Slowly but surely, he tore his own guard down brick by brick as you waited patiently. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be a liability for you, he was also nervous about just how much of himself he could reveal without running you off. Frank had managed to find you during yet another really low point in his life; a glimmer of light through all the darkness. He still remembers the day he met you in that bookstore. He often replays that memory in his head like an old comforting home movie.

You had complimented his choice in literature as he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his hands, disclosing to him that it was one of your favorites. Frank was instantly captivated by you and your sweet smile. For a good ten minutes you stood there with him, discussing books you had both read, and recommending a few of your other favorites to him that you thought he would like based on his previous reads. It made him feel so…human. There was a warmth about you that made him shiver.

To this day, Frank still doesn’t know where he found the courage to ask you to coffee, and he still has absolutely no idea why you said yes. All he knew was that he loved you, and that seemed to be enough.

I’ve been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

When news broke that the Punisher was back in New York, the media had a fucking field day. Frank knew he was at fault. He had been a little too reckless and not bothered to check for cameras at the warehouse. Madani was pissed. She was giving him an earful over the phone. She wasn’t on speaker, but Frank knew you could hear every word she was saying from your spot on the couch. Every news channel seemed to be debating on the alternating justifications on why Frank was a necessary anti-hero, or why he was a psychopathic murderer. After about three minutes, you simply just shut off the tv.

Frank wasn’t even hardly paying attention to Madani’s words. Hell he didn’t even fucking care what they were saying about him on the news. If he valued public opinion, he wouldn’t be who he was. His eyes kept glancing over at you. There was a neutral look on your face, but Frank wasn’t sure if that was for your sake or his. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. He didn’t know what to say. You knew who Frank was when you met, and you had never given any indication that who he really was bothered you, but that did nothing to dull the anxiety throbbing in his veins.

This was all completely unchartered territory for him, and he was absolutely lost. He had never talked to Maria about the horrors he endured and committed during his tours. Frank had vowed to keep that part of his life separate from his family when he came home. But Maria had the luxury of his anonymity. You didn’t. You didn’t have the privilege of a soldier just following orders. The evidence of his brutality was plastered everywhere for you to see. It was no longer something unspoken the two of you pretended wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was glaring you right in the face. Frank didn’t know how you would react, and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to lose the one good thing he had found that made life worth living again. He didn’t want to lose you.

Frank cut Madani’s rampage off with the pad of his thumb, placed his phone on silent, and set it face down on the counter. He would deal with that later. This was more important.

“You were never s’posed to see any of this.”

Your head perked up when his gruff voice cut through the silence. There was a tender expression in your eyes, and your lips had pulled into a sympathetic smile.

“I know. Flaunting isn’t really your style. I’m sure this will all blow over in a couple days. Dinah will calm down eventually. It’s all going to be okay, Frank.”

The conviction in your voice had a lump forming in Frank’s throat. Despite everything, here you were trying to comfort him. Frank didn’t know what to do other than settle on his knees in front of you on the floor, head nestled against your stomach as his arms wrapped tightly around your body in silent begging.

“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, sweetheart. I didn’t…I never wanted any of this shit to come back to you.”

“Frank, you have never lied to me about who you are, and I have never pretended to not know.”

“Doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to see this side of me. I could handle you knowin’. That’s one thing. But seein’…what I do…I don’t want you to change your mind…”

Frank’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He closed his eyes as he felt your fingers carding through his hair.

“Hey, look at me.”

Frank couldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see. The disgust at his actions, the regret in your choices, the recant of your affection. It wasn’t someone else’s bullets ripping away his happiness this time. It was his own. There would be no one else to blame for this. No one else’s blood would satiate this desperate vengeance. He would have to live with his own wrath and guilt. After a moment of silence, you gently cupped his strong jaw and lifted his chin to meet your warm gaze. Frank reluctantly met your eyes, but he didn’t find the repulsion he expected. All he found was acceptance.

“I love you, Frank Castle. I know exactly who you are. I don’t need anyone else to tell me. You are the man that makes me feel safe. You are the man who makes me feel special and loved. You are the man that risks his life over and over again to protect people. You are the man that brings me daisies when you know I’ve had a bad day. You are the man that twirls me around the kitchen when we’re cooking dinner together. I know you, and I love you. Every side of you. There is nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do or say that would change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I promise.”

Not even Frank’s own self inflicted loathing and contempt could combat your verity. He could hear the unrelenting sincerity dripping from your words as your lips brushed past his ear. He could see the genuine devotion reflected in your eyes when he held your gaze from underneath him. He could feel the profound adoration in the gentleness of your touch, holding his face in your hands as his hips found refuge between yours. He could taste the ardent desire on your lips over and over as he made love to you right there. He could even smell the sentiment of a silent promise made from the intermingling of both of your climaxes lingering in the aftermath of his display of gratitude.

Frank didn’t know what the future held for a man like him that had ventured through hell and back several times over and cheated death more times than he could count. But he had a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had found you. He already felt like he won the goddamn jackpot when you agreed to that first date, and he wasn’t sure how much luck he had left to really make this work. But as long as you wanted him around, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t find a way.

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

When was the last time he had felt this happy? This…light? Frank couldn’t remember. It had to have been during the early years of being married to Maria, before he started getting deeper into classified ops that held more and more pieces of him hostage with every completed mission. Before he started to feel anxious about going home because he wasn’t sure who he was there. Before he started preferring being covered in blood dodging bullets with his unit than being around his own kids.

All of that felt like another lifetime ago. Frank supposed it was, in a way. It was all a little hazy in the back of his mind sometimes. Whether that was from the tequila you had talked him into or the way your hips were swaying to the song filling the small space of the dive bar you two had become regulars at, he wasn’t sure. Could’ve been a bit of both. But as he watched you move from across the room, a playful grin on your lips as you beckoned him over with your index finger, everything else seemed to fade away.

God, you could dance. Frank was mesmerized the first time he saw the way you could move your hips. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you from his seat at the bar, but that was nothing compared to watching you from below that night. Frank was drawn to you like a magnet, his feet moving before his brain even caught up. He grinned when you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a dizzying kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around your waist as tightly as he could, sneaking one of his large hands up the back of your shirt to feel the warmth of the soft skin on your lower back. His hands found their way to your hips of their own accord, like they always did.

“Hey, big guy.”

“Hi darlin’.”

“You weren’t gonna come dance with me?”

“Just enjoyin’ the view, sweetheart. You know I like to watch.”

Frank reveled in the way your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, doe eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise. You quickly recovered, a knowing smirk taking over your mouth as you pressed your chest against his.

“Well if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Frank dipped his head to brush his nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below your ear before nipping at it just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp from you. He let one of his large hands trail down your lower back, giving your ass a playful smack before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing gently.

“Alright then, pretty girl. Let’s get outta here.”

There weren’t always nights like this where the two of you got to go out freely and just be a regular couple. But on the occasions where you did get a little normalcy, Frank wanted it to last forever. He didn’t even want to go to sleep those nights. He just wanted to stay in the moment with you, and milk it for all it was worth. The rare moments when he wasn’t The Punisher. He wasn’t the Marine. He wasn’t a widower that had fatherhood ripped away from him. He wasn’t weighed down by the weight of the world and another lifetime of trauma and loss.

He was just Frank, and he was just yours.

All they keep asking me

Is if I’m gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see

Is a one night or a wife

Curt and David had both been giving Frank hell about you. They continuously kept asking him when he was gonna “lock that shit down”. The first time he had brought you around them, they were both absolutely stunned that Frank had landed someone like you. Curt had jokingly offered to give you a head exam, and David had repeatedly asked how much Frank was paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

“No seriously, I lived with this asshole for several months. There’s no fucking way he landed someone like you, unless he’s paying you. Granted…he did try to steal my wife once, but that was under the guise of alcohol and desperation on her part. Is that it Frank? You just keep her drunk so she doesn’t fully see your face or recognize how much of a dick you are?”

“Oh for fucks sake Lieberman, for the last goddamn time I didn’t-sweetheart you know what, just ignore him. We all do anyway.”

“What I think D is tryin’ to say is that we think it’s great you’re so involved in charity. I mean, you’re doin’ a real public service here. We appreciate your sacrifice, truly. I ain’t seen this man smile this much in…years.”

“This is why I can’t fuckin’ take y’all anywhere, Jesus Christ.”

Despite the teasing, you had fit in effortlessly with them. Anyone passing by the table would’ve thought you had all been friends for years. There was no awkwardness or hesitation to acclimate, you had even dished back your own playful banter throughout the evening earning you eyebrows raised in surprise and prideful smirks from Frank.

“Y’all keep fuckin’ with my girl, and I ain’t gonna hold her back. She ain’t always as nice as she looks. Hell, she hits harder than both of y’all combined. Trust me.”

Curt and David both adored you, not only because of how good you were for Frank, but also because they really genuinely liked you. As the months added up to a year, they both kept pressuring Frank to take the next step in your relationship. Once they had figured out you weren’t just a fling, and that Frank had truly fallen in love with you, neither one of them could wrap their head around why he wouldn’t want to make it official. Curt knew Frank would always love Maria, and that there would never be any replacing her. But he also knew that there would never be another you. You were Frank’s second shot. There wouldn’t be a third. There wasn’t room in his heart for a third.

Frank wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were way out of his league. Not only were you absolutely way too good for him, he also thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He noticed all the eyes on you everytime the two of you went somewhere. He didn’t miss the utter confusion written evidently on guy’s faces when you reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers together or pressed a kiss to his lips with a huge grin. He resisted the urge to stalk over and snap something out of place when their disrespectful stares lasted a little too long for his liking. But you never noticed any of it. Because every time Frank brought his gaze back to you, your eyes were already on him. They were always on him.

It wasn’t that Frank didn’t see a future with you. When he thought about what the rest of his life looked like, you were always there. He loved you entirely. He just wasn’t sure if he could be a husband again. Frank had proposed to Maria three months into their relationship because she was pregnant, and it was the right decision. Not to say that they would’ve never gotten married had she not been pregnant, but everything had happened so fast. Frank became a husband and a father almost overnight. He didn’t regret a second of his marriage with Maria, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted to take his time with you. Frank wanted to savor every moment with you, just as you were. No pressure, no expectations, just you and him.

You were the first person Frank had ever met that didn’t ask him to be someone else. You didn’t ask him to hide the parts of himself that were scary. You didn’t try to tame the aspects of his life that were tumultuous. You didn’t try to redirect his daunting choices. You didn’t try to pull him in a million different directions and expect him to be someone he wasn’t. You let him be exactly who he was, and loved him all the same. Frank didn’t need a piece of paper to know how much you loved him, or that you were his. You proved that to him every single day.

I find it dizzying

They’re bringing up my history

But you aren’t even listening

Madani was on a rampage. Frank hadn’t tied things up as neatly as she had wanted, and arguably had left a bit of a mess, and she was furious. Enough to show up at his front door with Mahoney ten minutes shy of five in the morning with more rage than a person should ever have that early. Since you and Frank had recently moved in together, they were also at your front door, and Frank knew that once you were awake there was no going back to sleep for you. Pushing his own annoyance to the side, Frank apologized profusely, but you simply shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to make coffee for the four of you.

She wanted Frank to go back in and finish the job, this time wrapping everything up neatly with a bow. No loose ends. No mess. But to Frank, it wasn’t worth the risk. The previous case had taken months of prep work and careful planning. The target was high profile, with even more high profile friends, and was someone the U.S. government was not technically supposed to be going after. Madani had given Frank very strict instructions, all of which he did his best to follow, but there were unforeseen complications he had to improvise with.

“It ain’t worth the risk, Madani. They know someone’s gunnin’ for ‘em now. It ain’t gonna be as easy to catch ‘em off guard again. The security this guy has now could put the fuckin’ secret service to shame.”

“I can’t just let him go, Castle. If this guy goes underground, that’s it. We won’t have another chance. This has to happen now.”

“I get that Dinah, alright I do. But there ain’t enough time to put somethin’ together that’s gonna work. We don’t even have-”

“Oh bullshit! That’s complete bullshit Frank, and you know it. If this guy had kidnapped Karen Page, you’d be there in a heartbeat and he’d be dead by now. You have no problem running straight into the fire when your own selfish interests are at risk but not when I fucking need you to.”

Frank’s jaw tensed at the mention of Karen and his eyes immediately diverted to you. You were finally making your own cup of coffee after bringing three to the table for them. If you had reacted to her name at all, Frank didn’t see it. He had mentioned Karen briefly to you once a few months ago, and how she had helped him find David. You knew she was present for his trial and had read the articles she had written about him. You knew there was a history there. Frank hadn’t really detailed exactly what that history was or meant. He had simply said she was someone he cared about and left it at that. You never asked about it again.

Mahoney seemed to follow Frank’s gaze over towards where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. His eyes lingered on Frank for a moment before he faced Madani and cleared his throat.

“I think the point you’re missing Madani is he has no trouble doing that when it comes to certain people. If that person isn’t in danger, he’s not gonna roll up guns blazing to a suicide mission.”

“Since when the hell are you on his side, Mahoney? You need this done as badly as I do.”

“I do. But we need to be smart about this, and you need to consider all the stakes that are involved, and who those consequences fall on.”

Brett motioned his head subtly in your direction, and for the first time since shoving her way in completely blinded by anger, Dinah noticed your presence. Her wrath seemed to dissipate a little as she glanced between you and Frank, detecting the somewhat pleading look in his eyes. Halting her pacing, she finally took a seat at the dining table and let out a deep exhale of understanding.

“Alright. How do we do this Frank? What’s the smartest way, what do you need from me?”

“Patience, for starters.”

“Now Frank, you know better than to taunt an angry woman that’s got a full clip without a bulletproof vest.”

Walking by to place a kiss to Frank’s head, you shot Dinah a wink and lightly squeezed Brett’s shoulder on your way back into the bedroom. Dinah looked over at Frank in amusement, a smirk completely taking over her mouth as she brought the steaming mug to her lips.

“For the record, I like her better than you.”

“Glad we’re all in agreement then. Cause I like her a hell of a lot more than you two put together.”

After Madani and Mahoney had left, Frank made his way into your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom as he watched you get ready for work.

“Shoulda warned you movin’ in with me meant house calls from Madani at ungodly hours.”

“Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”

The smile you sent Frank’s reflection in the mirror nearly made him weak in the goddamn knees.

“Can I take ya to breakfast?”

“I’d love that. I’m almost done.”

Frank watched you silently for a moment, mesmerized by all your little movements. He liked to watch you when you weren’t paying attention, when you thought no one was paying attention to you. He loved the way your nose crinkled adorably when you got embarrassed or confused, the cute little pout that formed on your lips when something wasn’t right or working, how you were always humming something when you were lost in thought. Frank pulled you into his embrace the second you turned around, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheekbone.

“I really am sorry ‘bout this mornin’. Not just, ya’know, Madani flyin’ in like a bat outta hell. What she said ‘bout Karen-”

“I know, Frank. It’s okay. She’s right, though. If Karen was involved, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate for you either.”

A shy smile took over your lips as you leaned into Frank’s embrace, gently wrapping your small hand around his wrist.

“I know that, Frank. I know you’d do it for me too. And Curtis, and David, and even Dinah and Brett. And before you even start your protest, don’t bother. Because you’ve already done it for everyone on the list. Some of them, several times.”

“Not you, though. And I hope to God it never comes to that. But if it ever does-”

“You’re wrong.”

Frank cocked his head slightly to the side, peering down at you with brows knit in confusion.

“What?”

“You’re wrong. You have done it for me.”

“When?”

“Everyday. You save me, every single day, and you have since that day in the bookstore.”

Frank stared down at you incredulously, shaking his head slowly to himself. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and leaned in to press his forehead against yours.

“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna take you to bed instead of breakfast.”

“Why not both?”

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

When Frank had asked you what you wanted for your birthday, your answer was simple. Him. Frank argued that you had to let him get you a birthday present after you had gone all out for him, so you compromised. Time. That’s all you asked for. Just you and him, no distractions, no responsibilities, no work, no interruptions. Frank hadn’t hardly been home the past two months, and you had been putting in a few late nights of your own even when he was. Every night he was away from you made Frank wonder how the hell he ever managed to go eighteen months without Maria.

Two weeks before your birthday, Frank told you to request a few days off and pack a bag. He wouldn’t tell you why, just said to pack comfortably for cold weather. You didn’t even bother trying to get a hint out of him. The man had been trained for torture, he wasn’t going to give into your incessant childish begging when he was so committed to his surprise. He was still tight lipped as you both loaded his truck down and took off on a three hour drive upstate. When he turned off onto a winding dirt road and caught your puzzled expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t until the cozy cabin finally came into view that a gasp left your mouth. Your head snapped towards him with wide eyes as he put the truck in park.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“You got me a cabin?”

Frank threw his head back and howled with laughter, reaching over to grab onto your thigh and squeeze gently as an ear splitting grin covered his mouth.

“Well hell, if I had known you wanted one, I woulda got you one. But since someone didn’t wanna give me any ideas, I had to get creative. This is all ours for the next few days. Ain’t no one around for miles. And the best part? No cell service.”

Even though there were tears in your eyes from how thoughtful Frank’s gift to you was, it didn’t stop you from climbing onto his lap and clawing at his belt with eager hands. Frank didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. It was your birthday after all. He’d give you whatever you wanted. And if you wanted to ride him in the front seat of his truck, well then it felt like his birthday too. You and Frank nearly christened every spot in that cabin in less than 24 hours. Frank fucked you in the large plush bed in the bedroom, the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, in front of the fireplace, on the dining table, in the shower, the couch, and even against a tree when you went for a walk together in the woods.

For three days it was absolute uninterrupted bliss, and Frank had never been happier. You both took turns cooking meals, even though Frank was adamant about doing most of the cooking since it was your birthday trip. He dazzled you with his baking skills when he handcrafted a red velvet birthday cake with cream cheese frosting; your favorite. You both found a beautiful trail that had a breathtaking view of a lake and had a picnic there. Frank slow danced with you around the living room with only the glow of the fire and moon to illuminate the space. It felt like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.

After spending nearly an hour with his head buried between your thighs and another with his hips pressed firmly to yours, Frank held you delicately against his chest. His thick fingers ran loosely throughout your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp how he knew you liked. He watched as your fingertips carefully traced scars and indentations along his chest and abdomen. Sometimes when you laid like this, you asked him the story behind each one. But tonight, you were unusually quiet. Frank lightly nudged his nose against your temple.

“What’s goin’ on up there?”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

Your voice was small and fragile, like a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen to pieces. Frank had almost forgotten that tonight was your last night here. He had been trying to make you forget too.

“Me neither, sweetheart. We can always come back.”

You hummed quietly in response, tracing invisible words above Frank’s heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. He placed his index finger under your jaw and lightly grasped your chin to tilt your head back.

“That it?”

Frank could see the hesitation in the depths of your eyes. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, something you always did when you were contemplating your words carefully. For a second, Frank was worried he might have done something wrong, or not done something he should have.

“We can go somewhere nice for you birthday when we get back if you wanted-”

“No, no Frank that’s not it. This…this has been the most perfect and special birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the first time I’ve even enjoyed celebrating my birthday since I was a kid. I guess I’m just…feeling selfish.”

“Selfish? You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday, darlin’. That’s kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“My birthday was three days ago.”

“So?”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of your mouth as you shook your head slowly. Frank watched as your gaze dropped back down to where your fingertips were still writing invisible words.

“C’mon baby, talk to me. Feelin’ selfish how?”

“I just…don’t wanna go home. I like this. I like having you all to myself. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…just…it’s nice.”

“My what?”

Frank dipped his head slightly to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. Whatever you wanted to say, you were guarding it.

“Your…main priority.”

Priority wasn’t the word you wanted to use. Frank knew it as soon as the words left your mouth. You couldn’t lie to save your life. He knew there was something else you wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out what. Neither of you kept things from the other, and he couldn’t understand why you were doing that right now. He gently grabbed your neck and held your face with his fingers, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. They were shimmering with a translucent layer of sadness, but he couldn’t tell what from.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you, Frank.”

“You are my main priority, baby. I want you to know that. I know I been gone a lot lately, and I’m sorry ‘bout that, but you do come first. You need me, you call me. I don’t care where I am, what time it is, or how small you may think it is. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. No questions asked. You got that?”

Nodding slowly, you closed your eyes for a moment as a tear slipped past your lashes. Frank brought his thumb up to catch it before it could descend down your cheek, holding you even tighter against his chest.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. S’alright, honey.”

“I just miss you when you’re gone, Frank. So much. I worry about you all the time. I get scared that everytime I hear your voice on the phone might be the last…or what I would do if you didn’t come home-”

“Hey, look at me. I will always come home to you. I promise. You will always have me. Always. I miss you the second I step out that door, and all I can think about when I’m away is comin’ home to you. Nothin’ could ever keep me away from my favorite girl.”

Frank pressed his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there for a moment as he held you tightly in his arms. He made another promise that night that once every couple of months you two would get away for a while. No distractions, no responsibilities, no interruptions. He made love to you two more times so that the only thing you could feel was him. He kept himself inside you as he wrapped you up in his body completely, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep. When the morning came, he woke you up with his head nestled between your thighs, chasing any lingering feelings of sadness away with his tongue until there was nothing left but pure gratification.

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

Things had been different after you and Frank got back from your trip. They were so subtle, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t going crazy and imagining things that weren’t there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something was different. Something was off. He could feel it.

There was a dissonance between the two of you. Frank noticed you had become a little distant, withdrawing into yourself at times. Of course he had no room to speak, he had been guilty of doing that on several occasions. He figured you might have been going through something and needed your space until you were ready to talk about it. So, he did what you always did with him. He was patient, provided reassurance of his presence both verbally and with gestures, and gave you the space you needed.

But then a month went by, and you still hadn’t said anything. He tried to be as patient as you had been with him, but it was never his virtue. It was driving him absolutely mad trying to put together this puzzle when all the pieces were locked away in your mind. Anyone else observing you wouldn’t be able to tell you were acting differently, not even the ones that knew you. But no one knew you quite like Frank. He noticed everything about you. He saw the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes like they normally did. He heard the detachment in your voice when he asked you about your day. He hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch in a month. Every time he managed to make it home at a decent hour, you weren’t there. You had been spending more nights at work, making up excuses about a big project with a strict deadline. But Frank knew better. He knew you were avoiding him. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He replayed the entire trip in his head over and over again, searching for anything out of place that would explain your behavior. The only thing Frank could think of was your last night at the cabin when you had gotten emotional about leaving. Frank analyzed every piece of that conversation. He thought he had done everything right that night by telling you everything that you needed to hear to put your mind at ease, and making a promise to dedicate more time together. But if more time together was what you wanted, why were you pulling away?

Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be as patient as you. Something was wrong, and the uncertainty was driving him fucking crazy. He managed to easily find a way into your building, a concern he would discuss with you at a later time, and was barreling towards your office. The space was dark and quiet, seemingly empty, but he could see the light on through your window. Frank shut and locked the door as soon as he stepped through, barricading the door with his large frame. There was nowhere for you to run. The only way out was through him, and he wasn’t letting you leave until you talked to him.

“Frank? What are you-”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what. You’ve been off since we got home. Now look…I’ve tried, alright? I’ve tried to give you space until you were ready to talk about whatever the hell this is, and ya’know be patient until you were ready to come to me…but you’re not comin’ to me. You’re hidin’ from me. Why?”

“I’m not hiding from you, Frank.”

“Yes you are. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve been spendin’ almost every night here instead of at home with me. That’s why you keep tryin’ to lie when we both know you’re fuckin’ terrible at it. Ya’know I thought…I thought we didn’t do that. I thought we agreed ya’know, no secrets. No lies. So…what is it?”

The silence in the room was deafening and nearly drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in a very long time, Frank was fucking terrified. He had no idea what was going on with you. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn’t like the way your face twisted up in remorse and confusion. He hated that you wouldn’t look at him. He would’ve rather faced down the barrel of a loaded gun than whatever the fuck was about to happen right now. Frank took a step forward, his eyes darting back and forth fervently as he searched your face for something, anything. His voice was gentle and laced with pure vulnerability as he pleaded with you.

“Please just…please just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Just…tell me what’s goin’ on. I can’t…I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what the problem is. Please tell me.”

Frank watched closely as you rubbed your palms slowly down your face, looking anywhere but at him as you glanced around your office. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides in anxious anticipation.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Frank.”

Your words caught him completely off guard, and he blinked a few times as confusion settled between his dark brows.

“What?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally lifted your head to meet Frank’s unrelenting gaze. You gave a light shrug of your shoulders as a tiny melancholic smile covered your lips.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Frank I…I know you love me. I know that, okay. But…is that it?”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared down at you. He could see that you were waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell the question was.

“I’m not followin’, sweetheart. Is what it?”

“Is that all there is? I mean am I…am I it? Because you are Frank. You are it for me. I know what I want from you, but I have no idea if you want it too, or if you even want it at all. I don’t know what you want.”

“Sweetheart, what I want is you. Is that not clear?”

“Yeah but for how long, Frank?”

Frank stared at you silently, feeling completely lost within your riddle. He was trying his hardest to follow along, but a piece of the puzzle was still missing. You were still holding something back. He wasn’t sure if it was the same piece you withheld that last night at the cabin, but it was preventing him from being able to see the whole picture.

“What do you want?”

“Frank-”

“Say it. Whatever it is you been too scared to say, just say it. I’m not gonna understand until you tell me, so just get it off your chest.”

Hesitation flashed across your face, and he could practically feel the uneasiness radiating off of you. Frank watched as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took a few steps forward to gently pry it away with his thumb. He reached out to take one of your small hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of your knuckles before giving it a delicate reassuring squeeze.

“Talk to me.”

“I want a future, Frank. I want a future with you. I want everything with you.”

“You don’t think I want that?”

“I don’t know, Frank. You’ve never mentioned it, we’ve never talked about it. I don’t know what you really want. I know that I love you, and I want to be with you. Always. You’re it for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want a life together. I want…a family. Our family. I just…I don’t know if you want any of those things.”

It was your turn to be nervous as Frank stared down at you silently while processing your words. Once everything clicked in his brain, he felt like a fucking idiot. He had told everyone that he wanted a future with you. Everyone except you, apparently. He hadn’t told you that whenever he thought about his future, you were at the center of it. He hadn’t told you that you were it for him too. He hadn’t explained why he never mentioned marriage or starting a family to you. Hell, he hadn’t even stopped to consider if those were things you even wanted. Not once in the past year and a half had he bothered to ask.

You had tried to subtly give him a hint that last night at the cabin. Frank had a sudden epiphany as your words echoed in his head. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…main priority. He knew you hadn’t meant to say priority, but it wasn’t until now that he realized what you were actually trying to say.

Your wife. Your partner. Your future.

“A family?”

“Yes, Frank. A family.”

The sincerity in your voice absolved any remaining apprehensions Frank had about making it all official. He could do this again. He could do it with you. He knew you didn’t need a piece of paper either to know how much he loved you, but if it made you feel more secure in your future together, he would do it. He would do anything for you. Frank shoved everything off of your desk quickly before lifting you by your hips to set you up on top of it. His hands were in the middle of pushing your dress up your thighs when you placed your palms against his chest and laughed nervously.

“Frank, what are you doing?”

“You want a baby sweetheart? I’ll give you one. Right now.”

“Frank-”

“You just tell me what kind of ring you want. You got it.”

“Frank I…I don’t…I didn’t mean right now. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. I just…wanted to know what you wanted. If…if you wanted a future with me too. I mean…I want you to want this too. I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I want. If you-”

Frank cupped your face in his large hands and leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He sighed in content against your mouth, nuzzling his nose against your own. He pressed his forehead to yours as he started deeply down into your eyes.

“I love you. I love wakin’ up next to you. I love that you’re the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I wanna spend the rest of my life lovin’ you. Ya’know after Maria…I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do any of that again. I wasn’t sure if I could. But if that’s what you want, then I want it too. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

“Really?”

“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I promise.”

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

You and Frank were not a traditional couple. You never had been. There was nothing traditional or normal about your relationship, but neither one of you seemed to really care. Everything between the two of you had always happened exactly as it was supposed to. You did everything on your own terms, at your own pace, and only followed your own expectations that you two had established together. Now that you were both on the same page about your future together, you simply decided to let the rest of the pieces come together when it was their time.

Over the course of the next year, you and Frank only fell harder and more deeply in love. True to his word, Frank made sure that you two had some little getaway planned every three months. The walls of your home were filled with little snippets of your favorite memories from your trips together. There were even a few that Curt and David along with the rest of the Lieberman family had joined you on. You started your own holiday traditions of spending them with yours and Frank’s chosen family, and David’s kids were absolutely thrilled when you got Frank a puppy for Christmas last year. Frank had even let them have the honor of naming him which is how you ended up with an adorable big baby of a pit bull named Zeo, a combination of their names.

Life was so full for the two of you, it never felt like anything was missing. There were only more things you wanted to add to it. Frank eventually found himself at complete peace with the idea of becoming a husband and father again. There was no pressure of expectations or rush to catch up with anyone else. He had simply healed enough to make that choice of his own accord. Being your husband was what Frank genuinely wanted for himself. He wanted to be a complete unit with you; a team. For your three year anniversary, Frank took you back to that same cabin and proposed to you in front of the golden glow of the fireplace. A month later, you had a small intimate little ceremony at that beautiful spot by the lake you had found during your first exploration.

There was nothing traditional about it, but it was perfect. David got ordained and performed the ceremony, asking you three times if you were absolutely sure you wanted to be legally bound to Frank forever. Curt and Sarah stood by yours and Frank’s sides. Zach and Leo were the ring bearer and flower girl. You and Frank had even gotten Zeo a little bowtie for his collar. The “reception” took place at yours and Frank’s favorite diner in town. Instead of wedding cake, you two shoved apple pie in each other's faces. The celebrations continued at the bar across the street where you toasted with cheap wine and shots of tequila. Your first dance was to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons because it was the best choice on the jukebox. That night you and Frank made love more times than you could count.

A few months later when you both decided you were ready to start a family, you left it all up to chance. You weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t using protection. Whenever it was meant to happen, it would. Seven months later you found out you were pregnant. The grin on Frank’s face when you told him the news was composed of pure happiness. Neither of you wanted to know what you were having until the baby was born, but you picked out names that you both absolutely loved either way. Frank was present for every big and little moment of your pregnancy. All the appointments, hearing the heartbeat for the first time, feeling the first little movements and kicks. All those little things and moments he had missed both times Maria was pregnant he was now getting to experience fully with you. He was there for every second of your labor, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed, getting you anything you wanted, showering you in praise and encouragement when it was time to push.

Frank sobbed proudly when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He was in complete awe of the beautiful creature the two of you had created together in pure love. He still questioned relentlessly what he had done so right to deserve this life; this second chance. There were still so many moments he doubted whether he was deserving of happiness. But here he was, holding his happiness in his arms. His second chance. His future. Frank wanted to stay in this moment forever.

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #curtis hoyle #david lieberman #sarah lieberman #karen page #dinah madani #brett mahoney

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ppangjae · 2 years

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FIVE PLUS ONE | JAEHYUN

SYNOPSIS. Five times world-renowned chef Jeong Jaehyun tried to end your journey to be a chef because you weren’t ‘qualified enough to be a chef’ and that one time you proved him wrong.

—or: your villain story quite literally

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRE. fluff | angst | enemies to lovers!au | chef!jaehyun | aspiring chef!reader

WORD COUNT. 28.8k+ words (is this my new record? omg)

author's note. i posted a long time ago about how i must write a chef!jae fic and now, here she is. i'm so sorry for such a long wait (and all those postponements oop) but i'm glad that she's finally done and posted for you to enjoy reading! i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it :-) also pls reading the author’s note at the end for all my thoughts about writing this fic! happy reading~

THE FIRST TIME.

The first time you and world-renowned chef Jeong Jaehyun crossed paths was when you were doing your culinary internship at Enoteca Pinchiorri in Florence, Italy. In fact, you had no idea who Jeong Jaehyun was. It was your second day of internship at the Michelin-starred restaurant and because you needed a bit more time to adjust to the new working environment, you worked as a waitress. You had no customer complaints about working as a waitress for the first week and had agreed it was the best way for you to get accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. While you had no idea who Jeong Jaehyun was at the time, he made sure you knew who exactly he was when you had accidentally stumbled over your two feet and spilled his glass of Barolo all over his cream-coloured button-up shirt.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, looking at him with extreme horror all over your face. Your knees were planted onto the red carpet floors, and you were too horrified and embarrassed to bring yourself back up onto your own two feet. You would rather be sucked into the red carpet floors and the pits of darkness, never to be seen again. Slowly looking up at him, he stares down at his stained shirt before meeting your gaze.

Your blood has never run cold until that very moment. He reads your name on your name tag with a piercing gaze before muttering. “Please get back up. You’re just creating a scene and humiliating yourself even more by gathering attention from other customers—”

“Oh, mi dispiace! Here’s a napkin, Mr. Jeong!” The executive chef, Alessandro, rushes over to the two of you with a large napkin. You’re not sure if you should be relieved to have Alessandro come in to save yourself from the embarrassment, especially with Mr. Jeong staring straight at you with eyes like shooting daggers. You’ve settled on standing behind Alessandro, feeling completely ashamed and embarrassed of yourself.

“Is she new?” Mr. Jeong asks, burning two holes through your forehead with his dark brown eyes. With your head hanging low, you could only momentarily distract yourself by noticing that the heel of your two-inch black high heels has completely broken off.

Great. You had just bought these high heels, and they've already broken. You’re left with no choice but to glue the broken heel back on.

“Yes, she’s new. I apologize, Mr. Jeong. She’s still in training, and thus, she’s a little flustered," Alessandro explains. You don’t have the strength to look at any of them, but the damage has already been done. You’re no superhero with the power to turn back time and undo mistakes. Although, you wish you did have those superpowers at this very moment.

Your conscience forces you to do what you’re supposed to do. First, apologize. Second, make an offer to clean up the spill. Three, offer compensation after consulting Alessandro with ideas. Four, scan the tables around and apologize for the commotion. You learned this in culinary school. You draw in a deep breath, stepping towards Alessandro’s side and forcing yourself to look at Mr. Jeong.

That piercing gaze… that stone-cold face… You wonder who did him so dirty to be so cold-hearted.

“I apologize, Mr. Jeong. The mess will be cleaned up and we’ll get you a new glass of Barolo. In compensation—” You begin until Alessandro decides to finish it for you.

“In compensation, your main course will be on the house. We deeply apologize, Mr. Jeong.” Alessandro bows and you take it as your cue to bow with him.

Mr. Jeong slowly nods his head. You can still feel his burning stare. Who is he? Why is he being acknowledged with such high regard? Mr. Jeong mumbles, “no worries, do you mind showing me where the washroom is?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeong. It’s right this way.” Alessandro takes over and leads Mr. Jeong to the washroom. As they’re walking away, Alessandro flashes you a look. It’s not a warning look. But with his gaze, you can tell that he’s telling you to head to the storage room to clean up the spill before Mr. Jeong comes back to his table.

As you head to the storage room to grab hot towels, you bump into one of the other waitresses, Stella, who looks just as horrified as you are. Your legs almost give out at the sight of her.

“Stella, do you mind taking over his table? I don’t think I can—”

“No, yeah, sure, I’ll take over that table for you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks with a face filled with concern. She bites her lip. “You do know who that man is, right?”

You slowly shake your head. “I have no idea who he is—”

“Oh mio dio!” Stella gasps in shock. “Bella, that is Mr. Jeong Jaehyun. Chef Jaehyun. He is a world-renowned chef. He owns five three-Michelin-starred restaurants in the world—”

“World… renowned… chef…” You trail off, growing more horrified by what you’ve done.

“He’s won almost every cooking competition you could think of. He’s a legend. Both of his parents are culinary chefs too. His parents also teach at one of the most prestigious universities in South Korea for its culinary arts program. He started cooking when he was only ten years old—” She continues to hammer it into your head that the man you have spilled expensive wine all over is a living legend that cannot be messed with.

And you… have messed with him.

Unknowingly.

“A legend… started at ten years old… won every competition…”

You’re going to pass out. You feel faint. Your legs feel like jello. You’re surprised that you still haven’t been sucked into the red carpet floors. Maybe fate wanted you to experience this humiliation. Did you do something horribly wrong in your past life to deserve this? It’s only been the second day of your internship and you already want to go home. Hell, you haven’t even started cooking—which is why this culinary internship is for—and you already want to go home to your parents and cry your eyes out.

“Yeah. He’s a big deal, Y/N. But don’t worry, I got you covered. I’ll take over his table. In the meantime, you stay here and get yourself together, alright?” Stella reassures you.

You slowly nod your head, falling back against the stool. Stella grabs some towels and leaves you in the storage room all by yourself. Complete shock and embarrassment, you’ve really dug yourself a huge hole. After you’ve gathered yourself together, you head towards the door to look out the small round window that peeks into the restaurant. You could see Stella wiping up Mr. Jeong’s—or should you say Chef Jaehyun’s—table. When Chef Jaehyun returns, she greets him with a wide, pearly-white smile. He returns the same energy as her, almost mirroring her warm and bright aura. It’s a complete one-eighty from how he was with you. You can’t help but feel small. You can’t help but feel miserable.

Maybe you’re not fit to be working in a restaurant. Maybe you’re not fit to be working in a kitchen.

If you can’t even handle guests on the floor, what makes you think you could handle cooking meals in a kitchen? What makes you think you could even step foot in a kitchen? As a chef?

Maybe you’re just not fit to be a chef at all.

As you clock out of your shift, you kick off your high heels to replace them with a pair of running shoes. It’s almost midnight, and you’ve spent the closing hours cleaning up the dining area and the kitchen. It’s been hours since your encounter with Chef Jaehyun but it still feels fresh in your mind. You don’t think it’ll ever leave your mind for a while.

You hear Stella call out your name as you put on your sweater. Looking over your shoulder, you spot her entering the room with a box in her hands. You quirk an eyebrow out of curiosity.

“Hey, bella. This is for you.”

She hands you the box, and you take off the cover to see a new pair of high heels. They look just like the ones you had on earlier, but it has a shiny finish. It’s an expensive brand as well. You place the cover back on, shaking your head and returning it to her.

“Oh, no, Stella, I don’t think I can take this.” You hand back the heels to her.

She shakes her head. “Oh, no, bella, this is not from me. These heels are truly for you. I was just told to hand this over to you.”

“Oh…” You mumble softly. “Alright, then. Thanks, Stella. Thank you for having my back.”

“No worries, beautiful.” She smiles. “Now, forget about what happened today because tomorrow will be a new day! I don’t want to see your frown tomorrow morning when you clock in, alright? Promise?”

You chuckle. “I promise. By the way, do you know who gave the heels?”

She waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about who gave them.”

“What secrets are you hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding any secrets from you, beautiful. In fact, I have no idea who gave them. Alessandro just told me to give them to you.”

“I should probably thank Alessandro for these,” you mumble softly.

“Oh, no, these aren’t from Alessandro. He just told me that someone dropped by to give these heels to you and then he asked me to give them to you before you leave.”

THE SECOND TIME.

You didn’t think Mr. World-Renowned Chef would come back, especially on the last day of your culinary internship. Ever since your full experience of a nightmare with Chef Jaehyun, you were quite surprised that the restaurant made you stay. You were expecting them to kick you out and let you find your way on your own. The first time you encountered Chef Jaehyun, you were a waitress. But this time… you’re a line cook.

And you’re cooking two dishes for him.

“Bella, is the filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento ready?” Alessandro asks when he pops into the kitchen.

Ever since Alessandro announced and acknowledged Chef Jaehyun’s presence in the restaurant, you’ve been a jittery, nervous mess. This is all because you want to prove Chef Jaehyun wrong. You want to see him sit in his chair and dig into the dishes you’ve made for him, appreciating every single second of your hard work and effort. There are many dishes in the hot sanitizing bath; most of them are yours because they haven’t turned out the way you want them to be. You’ve been assigned two dishes; the filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento and tiramisu. Two completely different dishes, one is the main course while the other is a dessert.

“It’s ready.” You answer, placing the dish of filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento over the counter for Stella to serve the intimidating chef sitting right outside of the door. In terms of what happens beyond that door leading to the dining area, you hope it’s everything but a repeated nightmare.

You take a step back and wait for Stella to return to the kitchen with Chef Jaehyun’s input on your dishes. A couple of minutes later, Stella returns to the kitchen with not a single trace of a smile spread across her lips. You wait in absolute terror.

It’s almost as if you’re experiencing a real-life Kitchen Nightmares episode. But the chef tasting the food is not Gordon Ramsay (fortunately). It’s Jeong Jaehyun (unfortunately).

“He doesn’t like it,” she mumbles softly. She draws in a deep breath, eyes finding yours. “He actually wants to have a word with the chef who made it.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rubbing at the temples of your head. You’re feeling a migraine beginning to throb every single angle of your head. It feels like your head is becoming a construction site, pulsing and pounding painfully every thirty seconds. “I’m going to pass out.”

When you step out of the kitchen, you nervously make your way toward Chef Jaehyun’s table. He’s sitting there, eyes shooting daggers right through your head. He definitely remembers you. There’s no doubt about it. There it is… the same piercing gaze he gave you the first time you encountered him. But that piercing gaze that he gives you is for a similar reason.

You messed up.

And he’s going to grill you for it.

You clear your throat and muster up a small smile as you reach his table. “Hi, Chef Jaehyun, I’m—”

“Y/N.” He cuts you off. You clamp your mouth shut. You were hoping he would be a bit nicer this time around. With the way he shuts you down, you’re starting to learn that you shouldn’t hope for better outcomes in your miserable situations. He tilts his head. “You’re the one who worked as a waitress for my table during my first visit. It’s quite surprising to see you in a chef’s apron. So… tell me, are you actually a culinary intern?”

You slowly nod your head. “Yes, chef.”

“Well, you have many things yet to learn. I’m surprised Enoteca Pinchiorri even considered taking you in as a culinary intern because the dish you had sent out to me is quite… disappointing.” One by one, his comments throw axes at your weak heart. “Take a good look at the gnocchi. Is this hand-made?”

“Yes, chef—”

“It’s rubbery. You’ve added too much flour.”

“I apologize, chef—”

“And I asked for a medium-rare for the filet mignon. It’s well-done.” He points at the filet mignon that he’s sliced with a fork and knife. You feel defeated yet again. You’re not sure if you would rather have the same person or a group of people criticize your cooking. “You should be grateful to be an intern here at this restaurant. This isn’t something you should be taking for granted. It’s not something that should be taken lightly. Other aspiring chefs desire to be in your shoes but don’t have the resources for it.”

“Again, I apologize, Chef Jaehyun.” You bow at him. “I’ll work harder.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your co-chefs. You are lacking in many skills, Y/N. Take this and my comments as a way to improve, or else you will never make it as a chef in this industry.”

That night, you barge into your bedroom with red, swollen eyes and a heavy heart. There must be a reason you keep fucking up in front of Chef Jaehyun. But you’re not sure if you’re courageous enough to be able to withstand such embarrassment. You want to go home. You want to stop your journey of becoming a chef. If the world’s most renowned chef thinks your cooking is horrible, how different would it be for a regular customer?

You feel crushed.

Just like your dreams of becoming a chef.

THE THIRD TIME.

When you told your father that you would take a chance at MasterChef, he didn’t believe you until he saw you on his TV screen. Ever since you signed up to be a part of the competition, you’ve worked diligently to create the perfect dish to cook and present to the chefs. But when you stand behind the curtains that lead into the kitchen, you can’t help but grow afraid that all you’ve tried to remember and keep note of has completely vanished from your brain. You can’t afford to mess up.

You can’t afford to lose this chance, this opportunity.

It’s been years since your mother passed away due to cancer. She had run a diner, Mina’s Place. She named it after her. It was the only diner in the city that had good reviews. The reviews were a reflection of her passion for cooking. She loved cooking for others but mostly for herself. She had many skills. She perfected many dishes. The university nearby had a highly reputable culinary program, and the professors of that program had frequented the diner from time to time. They would always tell her that there was something special about the diner and that it was surely on its road to something even bigger.

But before your mother had seen the highest success of her dream, her diner, she fell ill and was diagnosed with cancer. In a short time, her health deteriorated, and she eventually succumbed to her illness, leaving the diner and bringing all its light with her.

If there was something you wanted to get out of this competition, it was a reputation. It was another chance to continue your mother’s dream. You know that this is something your mother would have wanted if she was still alive, to see her diner up until its end. But she was the one who let go first. Your dream is to bring back the diner, and you’re not sure how, but all you want is to fulfill her dream.

Your mother’s dream has become yours.

“Let’s welcome the next potential contestant, Chef Y/N. She’s interned at many restaurants in Florence and wants to open up a restaurant of her own someday.” The host introduces you as you wheel your cart into the kitchen.

When you reach the workstation situated right in the middle of the room, you place your things down before looking up to introduce yourself to the judges. As you look up, the first person you meet eyes with is Chef Taeyong. Chef Taeyong is known for being the co-owner of a three-Michelin-starred restaurant in Florence. You’ve always wanted to become a culinary intern at his restaurant, but you always chickened out. Standing right next to him is Chef Doyoung, who nods his head at you. Chef Doyoung is known for being a world-renowned chef in the making. He was the winner of MasterChef four years ago and since then has opened a lot of successful restaurants, all of them with Michelin stars. And standing right next to Chef Doyoung is—Chef Jaehyun?!

When Jaehyun’s eyes land on you for the first time in years, his eyebrows raise with surprise. Seeing you for the third time cannot be a pure coincidence. He tries to compose himself and get himself together when you finally acknowledge his presence. From the corner of his eye, he could see Taeyong glance at him. His shoulders tense up, but he feels them slowly relax when you look away from him.

“Plans to open up a restaurant, huh?” Chef Doyoung smiles and you bite your lip, nodding your head in reply. “You know, that was my plan when I started my journey here in MasterChef. My plan worked out in the end! That means you can fulfill whatever your heart desires, as long as you put your mind to it.”

“I truly believe that if you put your mind into something, it'll be easily attainable if you put in the work and effort.” Chef Taeyong agrees with his co-judge. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

You clear your throat. “I’m planning on baking up a dish that my mother used to make for me. Well, it’s a dessert among many desserts that my mom used to make for the family.”

“But will this dish be enough to give you a spot in MasterChef?” You almost choke on your spit when you hear his voice for the first time in years. Chef Jaehyun. His voice still sends shivers down your spine. As you slowly look up from the stove, you find him already looking back at you with the same piercing gaze that you never seemed to forget.

You gather yourself together. You nod. You like to believe that you’ve learned to handle your nervousness and anxiousness. “More than enough, chef.”

“You seem to have a close relationship with your mother,” Chef Doyoung begins. While you’re conversing with the chefs, you’re preparing your dish. You start by dipping the truffles in melted chocolate. “Is she the one who inspired you to join MasterChef?”

You smile at the thought of your mother. You answer as you place each chocolate-covered pumpkin pecan truffle onto the plate. “Yes, chef. She’s very special to me. I just want to make her proud.”

“Well, what are you making us for today?” Chef Doyoung questions. You’re placing the spiced pumpkin roulade next to the truffles and adjusting them to make the dish look presentable overall.

“I’ll serve you a spiced pumpkin roulade with pecan maple truffles. It’s something my mom used to make every Thanksgiving.” You answer. “It’s also my dad’s favourite dessert, and because it’s his favourite, my mom would make it for him every now and then. I would have to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a bite because the whole thing would be gone the next day.”

Chef Taeyong chuckles. “Sounds sweet, spicy, and delicious. It also sounds like it brings warm memories. You have five minutes left, Y/N.”

Five minutes later, your dish is ready. You place it right in front of you at your station. Chef Taeyong is the first one to taste your dish. He heads over to you and picks up his spoon. He scoops a spoonful of everything in your dish underneath the warm spotlights that shine over your station. Pumpkin pecan truffles… spiced pumpkin roulade…

“Do you mind walking me through this dish?” Chef Taeyong asks.

“What you have on this side are the truffles… the pumpkin pecan truffles, to be exact. It’s glazed with maple syrup.” You explain before pointing to the sliced pumpkin roulade on the other side of the dish. “And on the other side of the dish is a spiced pumpkin roulade.”

“You seem nervous,” he says softly.

You let out a shaky laugh. “I am indeed quite nervous, chef.”

“How bad do you want this, Y/N?” He asks.

“So bad.” You answer simply. “You don’t even know how bad I want this.”

“Let’s see if this dish is enough to earn you a spot in the competition.” He tastes your dish.

You study and observe him as he tastes the hints of pumpkin and pecan, all punched deep with some spice. You fiddle with your fingers nervously. It’s a bad habit of yours. If there’s one thing that you wanted to get out of this audition, it was at least one yes. One yes is enough for you to be satisfied. But oh, how you want this so badly.

“Wow.” He tilts his head with surprise. It’s almost as if he’s caught off guard. “It’s delicious.”

“R-Really?” You blurt out before shaking your head. “I mean—thank you. Thank you, chef, that means so much to me.”

“It tastes amazing.” He smiles before heading back to his seat.

You’re starting off strong. You like what’s happening. Two more chefs and your fate will be determined. You hope fate is on your side this time. You know you deserve a break from all of your horrible chances with luck and fate. You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard for it. It would be a huge disappointment if you didn’t earn a spot in the competition.

Next up is Chef Doyoung, who grabs his spoon and digs into your dish without uttering a single word. Once he’s finished tasting your dish, he folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Y/N, are you satisfied with how your dish turned out today?”

“More than satisfied, chef.” You mumble softly, but there’s a hint of a lack of confidence in your voice. You’re sure the chefs could pick up your low self-esteem. Chef Doyoung purses his lips into a tight line.

“Are you a perfectionist?” He asks.

“I try to be, chef.” You answer.

“Well, perfectionism is one of the best qualities to have as a chef.” He adds. He clasps his hands together and sucks in a deep breath. “I taste a light hint of lemon, but I am immediately kicked with the spices. I could taste the hint of cloves that burst right through the hints of lemon. I think you have a great sense of flavours. You have a great sense of spices. This dish has the perfect balance of sweet, spicy, and savoury.”

“Thank you, chef.” You smile, not sure how to contain your happiness.

“Well done,” he complements you before heading back to his seat.

Last is Chef Jaehyun, who walks up to your station. Your smile immediately vanishes from your face and is replaced with horror. You’re especially nervous around him. With all the horrible encounters you’ve had with him, you wish he had a poor memory because you wouldn’t want someone like him to remember you. You’re looking everywhere but him.

“I’m not a fan of sweets and desserts.” He says flat out. You wince. “That should be more than enough to make you nervous.”

“I hope that with this dish, you’ll start to appreciate desserts more, chef.” You mumble softly. It’s just barely above a whisper. You sound like a guilty child admitting fault after being caught lying. But you’re not lying, not at all. You’re just nervous.

“is this dish going to change my mind? Is this dish going to be enough to change my mind about desserts?” He continues to grill you, and you let your head hang low.

“I just… want to impress you, chef.” More like prove you wrong.

“I hope this dish doesn’t disappoint me.” His low voice sends shivers down your spine. He takes a spoonful of the cake and the truffle before shoving them into his mouth.

It feels like it’s just the two of you at that very moment. It doesn’t feel like Chef Taeyong and Chef Doyoung are there. Your entire body feels tense just standing within his line of sight. He folds his arms and looks down at your dish. “It’s good. But it’s not good enough. There’s something that’s lacking in this dish. Do you know what that is?”

“What is it, chef?” You ask.

“The presentation.” He answers. “Look at how you presented this dish to us. It does not look MasterChef-worthy. The presentation of this dish, I might say, is predictable. The presentation of a dish that you make is something you must pay attention to because if it doesn’t visibly look good, your customers would assume that it doesn’t taste good.”

“I understand, chef.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Chef Jaehyun definitely remembers you. Why? Because he loves nitpicking every single lacking detail of your cooking. He truly never changed. He’s still the same cold-hearted, selfish, rude prick.

The three chefs discuss their decision. You continue to fiddle nervously with your fingers to calm yourself down, to distract you from what’s about to come. You’re so sure that you’re not going to get a spot in the competition, and it’s all going to be because of Chef Jae—

“Y/N?”

“Yes, chef?” You blurt out with surprised, caught off guard eyes.

“It’s a yes for me,” Chef Taeyong smiles.

“It’s a no for me,” Chef Jaehyun says. “Simply because you’re lacking in presenting your dishes. I think that is very crucial to becoming a chef. I was not impressed with your dish simply because I’m not a fan of desserts. I was hoping you would change my mind, but I guess it just fell short.”

“I understand, chef. I agree that I could’ve paid more attention to the plating.” You nod your head in agreement. For the first time, you agree with Chef Jaehyun.

“Now, that leaves the pressure on me.” Chef Doyoung smirks. “If I say no, you won’t have a spot in the competition. But if I say yes, you will advance in the competition, and you will have your own MasterChef apron.”

“You won’t regret giving me a chance, chef. I want this so bad.”

Tension continues to fill the air. Chef Doyoung’s touch gaze softens, and you feel your tense posture relax. He clasps his hands together before saying, “it’s a yes for me. Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Please come up and take your MasterChef apron.” Chef Taeyong gestures for you to come up to the front.

“Oh my gosh,” you sigh with relief. “I promise I’ll do my best, chef. Thank you so much for taking a huge risk on me.”

As you near the three chef judges, you stand in front of Chef Taeyong, who helps you put your apron on. You smile, taking his hand that he extends out to you to shake. Moving onto Chef Doyoung, you shake his hand, thanking him many times for giving you a chance. Last but not least, your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun. You’ve never been up close to Chef Jaehyun like this. He’s quite handsome, you think to yourself, but it’s also a shame that he’s such a rude, cold-hearted person. He extends his hand out to you for you to shake. When your hands interlock, you can’t help but notice how warm and soft his hands are. The both of you exchange such intense looks. You’re the first one to break away, pulling back your hand.

“Long time no see. Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Chef Jaehyun.”

THE FOURTH TIME.

On a quest to become MasterChef, you are expected to learn how to work with a team of chefs. The round that awaits you is a team challenge, where you and a couple of other contestants will work together to cook up a full course meal. The team challenge usually occurs after the first mystery box challenge and elimination round. Sitting at the front of the kitchen is a box filled with two different coloured aprons, red and blue. These aprons will split everyone into two teams based on their apron colour. From the corner of your eye, you can see your station mate, Taeil, gawking at the box at the front.

He turns towards you and whispers, “I hope we’re on the same team.”

You flash him a small smile. “I hope so too.”

Ever since the competition began, you have learned how to become a competitive chef. You’ve also learned how to make connections and new friendships. It’s what you have learned to value the most, especially working in an industry that relies heavily on networking and connections. Two rounds into the competition, you became friends with Taeil simply because he cooked up his dishes right next to you, and, over time, he also looked out for you and helped you with your dishes. He’s completely different from you. You’d like to think that he’s the complete opposite. But somehow, you both work in tune with each other. You wouldn’t have asked for a better station mate. Both of your different personalities shined the most in your cooked dishes.

“Y/N, please step up to the front and pick your apron for the team challenge.” Chef Jaehyun calls out to you, and your heart beats out of your chest. You share a look with Taeil.

As you make it to the front of the kitchen, you stick your hand into the black box to pull out a red apron. You avoid eye contact with Chef Jaehyun like you always do, but you could still feel his burning gaze. You always feel insecure and nervous around him. How embarrassing it must seem to him.

“Taeil, your turn has arrived. Come up and pick your apron.” Chef Taeyong smiles.

You wish Chef Jaehyun was like Chef Taeyong. Nice… sweet… genuine. He genuinely wanted every contestant to be successful, whether it be in their dishes or their confidence. You wish Chef Jaehyun would forget about all the horrible encounters you’ve had with him. You wish Chef Jaehyun would break out of his shell and turn his cold personality into a personality similar to his co-chef.

When Taeil arrives at the front and sticks his hand into the box, he pulls out not a red apron but… a blue one. The both of you share looks, and a pout can’t help but form across your lips. Chef Jaehyun notices your slight pout, and you immediately let it drop from your face. Taeil returns to his station, and you begin to overthink. Who are you going to work with? You’ve only become acquaintances with the rest of the contestants. Taeil is the only contestant you’ve become close to and the only contestant you consider a good friend. He’s the only contestant you see having a friendship with even after the competition ends.

After all the contestants have been called up to choose their team, the chef judges have you gather together. You and Taeil wave goodbye as you both part to your own assigned teams, you with the red team and him with the blue team. As you walk over to your team, you can’t help but notice how you’re the only woman. Your teammates are Junhwa, Jay, Mason, and Euntae.

“Today’s challenge will be quite different because you’re all expected to work together as a team with your teammates.” Chef Doyoung announces. “For today’s team challenge, we will be headed to the beach to cater for a wedding.”

Your head shoots up. You’re doomed. You know that your team is done for even before the team challenge begins. Junhwa was just saved from the elimination test the other day because he had messed up his dish for the mystery box challenge. Jay hasn’t been up to par with his dishes and has yet to cook up his best dish in the competition. Like Junhwa, Mason had messed up his dish for the mystery box challenge but was saved from the elimination test by Chef Doyoung. Euntae, however, is the only one on the team that’s been performing well in the competition. But as for you… you’re not sure where you stand in this competition.

“Let’s all head to the location and we’ll explain more about the team challenge.”

It’s the perfect day to have a wedding on the beach. The wind currents aren’t strong, but they bring a light warm breeze. The wedding takes place on a weekday which explains the small number of people hanging out at the beach. When you all arrive at the beach, the first thing you spot is two different cooking stations, differentiated by your respective team colours. You draw in a deep breath. This is going to be a long day.

“Everyone, please gather around as we begin today’s challenge.”

Everyone gathers around the three young world-renowned chefs following the producer's command. You can see Chef Jaehyun staring right at you from the corner of your eye. He’s drilling two holes through the side of your head. It’s almost as if he’s praying and manifesting for you to mess up in the team challenge. You wouldn’t be surprised if you mess up and his prayers and manifestations were served right to him on a golden platter because his intensity and strive for perfection always cause you to do so.

“Today, you will be cooking up a three-course meal for wedding guests at the beach. The couple that will be wedded later on today has laid out their menu and their expectations.” Chef Doyoung explains.

You have learned one thing so far; never have a team of aspiring chefs competing in competition be in charge of cooking and serving your guests’ food. Why? Because there’s huge room for failure. Food poisoning? Traumatizing. Undercooked food? Horrifying. You wouldn’t imagine getting married and having scared chefs-in-the-making cater to your guests at the reception. To you, it sounded like a nightmare waiting to unfold right before your two eyes. And here you are now, living out that nightmare in disguise.

“The menu consists of cranberry and brie bites for the appetizer, roasted pork loin on wild mushroom risotto for the main course, and a spiced carrot cake for the dessert.” Chef Taeyong reads off the menu that the wedding couple has put together for their guests.

You hold in a sigh of relief. You think you could handle doing the appetizer and dessert. Baking is your expertise. It’s something your mother loved doing the most. Baking up a dessert can be daunting and taxing, but once you’ve mastered the basics, everything you pop into the oven will come out beautifully. You’ve spent most of your childhood sitting in the kitchen helping her make the desserts. You’ve spent most of your childhood sitting in the kitchen and breathing in the aroma of sweet desserts.

You just hope that your team leader assigns you the appetizer or dessert. If not… you’re not sure how you’re going to put up a good performance. Will you be eliminated? Is this going to put you at risk for elimination?

“Have you all picked a team leader?” Chef Jaehyun asks.

On the blue team, Taeil raises his hand. You smile. Taeil is quite the introvert, but you know that he’ll be able to bring his team together and make the most out of it. On your team, Euntae raises his hand. It was predetermined that he would be the team leader mainly because he’s the only one who’s been doing well in the competition.

“Taeil for team red and Euntae for team blue.” Chef Jaehyun notes it down on his notepad. “Alright. Let’s have you go over to your stations to start prepping for the service.”

“You will have one hour and thirty minutes to complete your three-course meal.” Chef Doyoung announces.

“Please use your time wisely because regardless of whether your dishes are done, they will be served to the guests.” Chef Taeyong warns you. Everyone falls silent. “Your two goals are one, to make sure that there is food on the table for every single guest and two, that the food you serve has been cooked to perfection.”

“Yes, chef.” Everyone says in unison.

“Alright. Get ready because your time starts in three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

“Go!”

Thankfully, you’ve been assigned to work on the spiced carrot cake. Euntae and Jay will work on the roasted pork loin on wild mushroom risotto. Euntae will work specifically on the roasted pork loin, and Jay will work specifically on the wild mushroom risotto. Mason and Junhwa will work together on the cranberry and brie bites. It’s been about twenty minutes since the timer started, and you’re almost done mixing the batter for the cake. You’ve added carrot bits and slices in the cake batter to make the carrot stand out when someone takes a slice out of it. You’re also planning on making a cream cheese frosting to drizzle on top of the cake.

“Y/N, make sure you don’t go off track with the cake, alright? I know you’re excited, but we don’t have much time left.” Euntae commands, and you nod your head.

Euntae is such a perfectionist. It’s been obvious since the start of the competition. He’s been winning almost every challenge. If he wasn’t the winner of the challenge, he would most likely be second. Carrying your team must be difficult for him because most of his teammates have been performing poorly.

“Yes, I’ll work faster.”

“And make sure you follow the demo recipe.” He adds. “I don’t want you making something completely different from what we’re asked to do.”

You like to think of your dishes as an experiment. Most of the time, you depend heavily on your sense of taste and extensive knowledge of spices. Thus, this results in you neglecting recipe books and instructions. You like experimenting in your cooking because there’s a thrill when something turns out delicious. There’s a sense of excitement and surprise when two unlikely ingredients somehow pair well with each other.

Euntae probably notices your experimental way of approaching your dishes. He doesn’t want you to fuck everything up. You can’t blame him for playing it safe. You would do the same thing.

“This look different to you?” You ask, pointing to your cake batter.

He dips his fingers into the batter and tastes it. “Put more clove. I don’t taste the kick. I thought spices were your thing?”

You purse your lips into a tight line. He looks taken aback by your confused gaze. If there was one thing you wish you could change about yourself, it’s how you are easily readable through your facial expressions. Your emotions are easy to detect because they’re spread across your entire face. Knitted or raised eyebrows, jutted chin, pouty lips, you’re very expressive with your emotions.

“It is. I did put in clove. Is it not enough?” You dip your finger into the batter to taste it yourself. Indeed, you taste the kick. Your gut tells you not to add any more of the spices because it will be too spicy for the guests if you add more. “I don’t think we should add more. I think it’s enough—”

“I don’t taste the spices, Y/N—”

“Well, I do—”

“But I’m the team leader, right?” He reminds you. You clamp your mouth shut. Where is all of this coming from? How could he talk to you like this? You could feel your gaze hardening at him. “Do you want me to save you a spot in the competition? You do, right? So follow what I tell you to do, and everything will be fine.”

You squint your eyes at him before shaking your head. “No way. I’m not letting you sabotage my cake.”

“And I am not letting you bring the entire team down. We cannot afford to lose.” Jay butts in as he shoves you aside to place a pan on the stove. You almost stumble back, and you’re on the verge of tears.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous.” You mutter to yourself, grabbing your bowl of cake batter and moving to a different table in your station to work. You’re standing alone as the rest of your team gathers together to talk about how they will prepare the dishes. You feel left out. You feel like an outcast. You wish you were on Taeil’s team.

You feel like this is planned.

You feel like they’re planning to sabotage you.

“Y/N?” Chef Doyoung calls out to you.

You look over your shoulder to see him waving you over. You dust your hands off before heading up to him. You don’t know that Euntae walks over to your bowl of cake batter and puts in a couple of more teaspoons of clove and cinnamon behind your back. He adds a bit more than what is required. Chef Doyoung folds his arms at you.

“Yes, chef?” You mumble.

“Why aren’t you being included in your team?” He asks. He noticed, and that’s all that matters to you.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not quite sure, chef. We have different opinions on how we should make the spiced carrot cake. Euntae thinks there’s not enough spice, while I think there’s more than enough.

“Trust your gut. But you should also keep in mind that this is a team challenge. You’re all supposed to work together as a team.” He reminds you. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Thank you, chef.”

Suddenly, Chef Jaehyun yells out. “Your spiced carrot cakes should be in the oven right now or will be undercooked!”

Upon returning to your station, you grab your bowl of cake batter to pour it into a baking pan. Hurriedly, you place it into the preheated oven. You do not want to mess this up. You can’t mess this up. If your team fails the challenge, you are at risk of being eliminated.

You can’t afford to lose the competition.

You can’t go home.

You’re not surprised that the cranberry and brie bites were almost burnt out of the oven. You’re not surprised that your two teammates were running behind on time with the roasted pork loin and wild mushroom risotto. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if your team were unable to put out your dishes on time.

When you pull out the tray of cranberry and brie bites, you place them on the table. One by one, you place the burnt ones aside and the good ones on the serving trays. Standing behind you, Mason and Junhwa continue to panic, not even bothering to help you save their dish that they’ve been assigned to do.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” You feel yourself stiffen. Chef Jaehyun stands next to you and looks at the burnt and unburnt cranberry and brie bites. He clicks his tongue and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Were you the one assigned to do the bites?”

You shake your head. “No, chef.”

“Who was assigned for the cranberry and brie bites?” He asks your teammates.

“Us, chef.” Mason answers.

Chef Jaehyun points at you while looking at Mason. “And why is Y/N taking over your task?”

“Because she likes getting into everyone’s business—” You hear Euntae mutter underneath his breath. You’ve confirmed it: Euntae is plotting your elimination. He hates you.

“She said she would help us salvage some of the cranberry and brie bites for the guests. She’s picking it out for us while we make another batch.” Junhwa explains.

“And you’re both just standing there and watching her?” Chef Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows with anger. “Where’s your team leader?”

“Here, chef.” Euntae walks over.

“Where is the direction, Euntae?” Chef Jaehyun frowns. You could see steam coming out of Chef Jaehyun’s nostrils. “Your teammates are lost. They’re panicking, and you’re just standing in front of your pan doing your own thing. You’re in your own little world, Euntae. It’s time to wake up.”

“Excuse me, I have to take out the carrot cake.” You mumble softly as you excuse yourself to head to the oven. You take a quick peek before putting on your oven mittens to take the cake pans out.

It comes out beautifully. They’ve baked and risen to perfection. You can smell the strong aroma of spices. Hidden within the sponge cake are the grated bites of carrot, giving it a beautiful orange colour. From your periphery, you see Chef Jaehyun walking over to you. You hold in your breath.

“Can I have a taste of the cake?” He asks.

You slowly nodded your head. “Yes, chef.”

Chef Jaehyun digs into the cake with a small teaspoon while your teammates gather around to watch. He winces, and you wish you could disappear. You’ve noticed that he always winces and grimaces with disappointment whenever you mess up. It’s like you could tell what’s about to come before it even happens.

“You were in charge of the cake, right, Y/N?”

“Yes, chef.” You mumble.

Clatter. He tosses the teaspoon onto the table and frustratingly runs a hand through his hair. “You can’t serve that. It’s too spicy. You’ve put too much clove and cinnamon.”

You look at him confusedly. Completely flabbergasted, you take a bite from the cake yourself and indeed, it’s too spicy. It’s overpowering the sweetness of the carrot and sugar. But wait—you never added any more clove or cinnamon.

“You can’t serve this. This entire team is set up for failure. You cannot save yourselves from this challenge. Take off your aprons. You don’t have any more time to send out any dishes. You’ve completely failed the team challenge.”

You glance at Euntae, who avoids your gaze. He turns around and walks back to his pork loin and mushroom risotto pan. He tosses the pans into the sink out of frustration and anger.

Euntae sabotaged you.

At the end of the team challenge, you and your teammates find yourselves standing in front of the three disappointed chefs. You’re too ashamed of yourself to look at them. You distract yourself by fiddling with your fingers. You were thinking of all the ‘what if’s’. What if you were on the blue team? What if you paid more attention to your teammates that were plotting your failure? What if you worked harder? What if—

“As you are all aware of what happened today, your team lost the challenge. This only means that not one, not two, but four of you will be eliminated from the competition.” Chef Doyoung says.

“But first, we are going to tell you what you did wrong and where you all went wrong.” Chef Taeyong frowns, “as a team.”

“The first thing that went wrong were the cranberry and brie bites. They were overcooked to the point that they were burnt. You had only realized that they were burnt when you took them out of the oven too late, leaving you no time to make another batch.” Chef Doyoung explains.

“We are aware of that, chef.” Mason and Junhwa speak in unison.

“The second thing that went wrong was the spiced carrot cake. I was surprised that Y/N put too much clove and cinnamon into the batter. From your audition, Y/N, you had a good sense of the spices, so I figured this task wouldn’t be difficult to do.” Chef Taeyong outlines the second mistake of the team.

“The third thing that went wrong had completely gone over our heads.” Chef Jaehyun begins. “We were wondering why out of all the dishes you were assigned, the roasted pork loin and mushroom risotto turned out fine.”

“It was because we—” Euntae begins.

“It was because you wanted to sabotage your own teammates. Am I right, Euntae?” Chef Jaehyun catches him red-handed. “Don’t try to lie to us. Don’t you dare try to lie to me because I saw it myself.”

“I did not sabotage any of my teammates—”

“Y/N, you know why your spiced carrot cake was too spicy?” Chef Jaehyun asks you.

You courageously look into his eyes. “Why, chef?”

“Because your own teammate, Euntae, sabotaged your cake and added three tablespoons more of clove and cinnamon, which is way more than what we asked for in our demo.” Chef Jaehyun reveals. “I saw it happen right before my eyes. Euntae, if you were going to sabotage your teammate, you should’ve made sure that none of us chef judges would see it.”

“Chef, I—Y/N has always been doing her own thing in the competition, and I didn’t want her to sabotage our team by doing things the way she wants to,” Euntae explains.

“You’re supposed to work together as a team.” Chef Taeyong shakes his head in disbelief. “Did you plan this all out so that Y/N would be eliminated from the competition? Don’t lie to us because I overheard you planning this out with the rest of your teammates.”

“I—”

“Okay. That’s enough.” Chef Doyoung raises up his hand to shut him up. “We have made up our minds on who will be leaving the competition.”

“The first contestant that will be saying goodbye is…”

You clench your eyes shut as you wait for your name to be called out. You hate everything that’s happening right now. You’ve never been so careless. Now, you pay the consequences.

“Jay. Please say goodbye to your teammates.”

You feel your heart drop.

“The second contestant that will be saying goodbye is…”

Your heartbeat begins to pick up its pace once again. Once your name is called out, you’re going to have to pack your things and head back home.

“Junhwa. Please say goodbye to your teammates.”

You hold in your breath.

“That leaves Y/N, Euntae, and Mason.”

You close your eyes again, praying that your name wouldn’t be called out. You’re already thinking about what you would say to your father if you’re eliminated from the competition.

“Y/N, please say goodbye to your teammates…”

Your eyes flutter open. This is it. You’re officially eliminated from the competition. You shake hands with your two teammates who have completely sabotaged you. You’re keeping yourself together. You’re holding yourself back from bursting out into anger.

“Because you will advance to the next round of the competition. Euntae and Mason, you are both eliminated from MasterChef, please take off your aprons.”

Your heart stops. Wait.

“Wait, what?” You look at the chefs in shock.

“Y/N, you are the only one that will stay in the competition.” Chef Taeyong smiles.

“It was a tough decision.” Chef Doyoung adds.

“But we do not tolerate cheaters in this competition. You are innocent and had no bad intentions, Y/N, which is why you are safe from elimination.” Chef Jaehyun confirms everything for you. “But that does not mean you are safe from the remainder of the competition. What this means is that we will all be putting more pressure on you to be the best chef you say you are.”

“I will do my best, chef. I am confident that I will win MasterChef.”

Chef Jaehyun purses his lips into a tight line.

You feel your blood run cold.

“Don’t make us regret choosing to save you from elimination.”

THE FIFTH TIME.

“Don’t make us regret choosing to save you from elimination.”

The pressure is all on you. Chef Jaehyun’s voice echoes throughout your head the entire hour that you’re granted to create a dish. In this round, all of the contestants are given a mystery box filled with random ingredients. In your mystery box, you were given beetroot, beef tenderloin, and blackberries. They are three completely different ingredients that you’re not quite sure will mesh well together.

Five minutes before the timer started, you decided to make beef tenderloin with roasted beetroot, all covered by a blackberry sauce. And now here you are, thirty minutes in, and you just hope that your dish turns out well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Chef Jaehyun.” You mumble softly, checking up on your beef tenderloin to see if it’s being cooked correctly on the skillet pan. You’re hoping to cook the tenderloin medium-rare to keep the monochrome colour of your dish.

“What are you making for us today?” He asks.

He’s distracting you. Whether it’s intentional or not, it’s breaking your focus. You clear your throat as you answer, “beef tenderloin with beetroot, all covered by a blackberry sauce.”

“Are you sure this is going to work out well? It seems quite… difficult to pull off.” He grabs a spoon and digs into the blackberry sauce that you have boiling in a saucepan. He tastes it and steps back, tilting his head as he loses himself in thought. “Interesting. You’re truly making this difficult for us, huh?”

What is he trying to say? You bite your lip, pretending to ignore him. “It should work out well. It is a mystery box challenge, after all. I’ve been given three ingredients that you never truly see together in a dish, but here we are.”

“The blackberry sauce is perfect. But regarding whether this blackberry sauce will complement your beef tenderloin and beetroot… you’ll have to prove that to us.” He gently places his spoon into your sink and moves on to the next contestant.

“You have fifteen minutes left! In about five minutes, you should all be plating your food!”

You turn off the stove to cool down your blackberry sauce. With fifteen minutes left, you need at least five minutes to let the beef tenderloin rest. You’re still not sure if it’s cooked medium-rare. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. You take the skillet pan off of the stove and transfer the beef tenderloin onto a wire rack for it to rest. As for your beetroot, you take each slice out to begin plating them.

“I’m not going to lie, that looks incredible, Y/N.” Taeil compliments you. You almost jump in surprise. You’ve been so focused on making sure you do well in this challenge that you forgot about Taeil. As you glance at him, he lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry for scaring you. I’ll shut up now.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I just hope it’s edible.” You crack a joke to ease your nervousness. He snorts.

“I’m sure it’s edible. You’ve made it this far, Y/N. You should give yourself more credit for your hard work.” He reassures you.

One minute left on the timer, and you’re placing the beef tenderloin right in between two slices of beetroot. To complete your dish, you drizzle blackberry sauce all over the dish. To amplify your dish even further, you take a couple of blackberries and scatter them across your dish. Overall, your dish is a dark magenta colour. Monochromatic.

“Five…”

“Four…”

“Three… Two…”

“One! Time’s up!”

“Y/N, please bring up your dish.”

With shaky hands, you grab your plate and head up to the front. You place your dish down onto the table that stands right in front of the chef judges. Each one of them looks surprised to see what you have presented to them. Chef Doyoung is the first one to take a bite. He steps forward and grabs a knife and fork, slicing himself a bit of beetroot before poking at the beef tenderloin.

“How did you cook the beef tenderloin?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “I was hoping to cook it medium-rare. But I didn’t have enough time to let it rest, so I’m not quite sure if it turned out that way.”

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?” He insists. You slowly nod your head. Standing behind him, you can see Chef Jaehyun standing on his tiptoes to get a look at the tenderloin. As Chef Doyoung slices through the tenderloin and you sigh with relief. “It’s perfect. You doubt yourself a bit too much, Y/N. The tenderloin is indeed medium-rare.”

“Thank goodness.” You let out another sigh of relief.

He takes a bite. As he chews, you study him and wait for his reaction. When he finishes eating, he clasps his hands together and breaks out into a smile. “I think it’s quite delicious. I would definitely serve something like this in my restaurant.”

“Really? Oh wow… thank you, chef.” You beam.

“Blackberries, beef tenderloin, and beetroot. These three ingredients seem hard to cook together, but you balance them beautifully. The plating is amazing. You’ve improved your plating skills since the start of the competition. Overall, this dish is my favourite.” He places his cutlery down and flashes you one last smile. He heads back to stand next to Chef Taeyong, who’s the next one to step forward and taste your dish.

“First off, the dish looks lovely. I love the monochrome theme you have going on here. It amplifies your dish. But as for the taste, we shall find out.” Chef Taeyong takes a bite of the beetroot and tenderloin, making sure he dips it in the blackberry sauce. He tilts his head and lets out a chuckle. “That’s… amazing. You truly have a great sense of your spices. I wouldn’t even have thought of making a dish like this with these three ingredients. Well done, Y/N. You continue to perform well in this competition. I also see Chef Doyoung serving something like this at his restaurant.”

“Thank you, chef.” You hold in a happy sigh.

Next up is Chef Jaehyun, who barely waits for Chef Taeyong to step aside for him. He quirks an eyebrow at you before digging into your dish. “After we spoke earlier, I wondered how you could pull off a sour blackberry sauce with savoury beef tenderloin and beetroot. They are two unlikely tastes that should not be paired together.”

“It is a mystery box, so I just tried to work with what I was given. I hope it tastes good for you, Chef Jaehyun.” You avoid his eyes. But you could see him trying to look into them.

He takes a bite. He chews and swallows. He places his cutlery down and purses his lips into a tight line. “I’m going to be quite honest. I don’t like it. The sour blackberry sauce completely overpowers the savoury tenderloin and beetroot. However, I could definitely see why others may like it. This dish is catered for people with a specific palette. I’m not one of those people. The plating looks beautiful, however.”

“Thank you, chef.” You whisper.

“As I’ve said time and time again,” he says sternly, “you are making this extremely difficult for us, Y/N. You need to step up to the plate. I know you can do it. You have the tools and the talents to do it. You just need to use them.”

As he turns his back to you, you can feel your eyes well up with tears. Throughout this entire competition, you’ve learned that you not only want to win it, but you want to prove Chef Jaehyun wrong. He’s ignited a fire within you, a burning passion. His brutal honesty truly gets the best of you.

If you can’t prove him wrong, what’s the point of continuing your journey?

He’s a world-renowned chef. He knows what tastes good and what doesn’t. He knows whether a chef will be successful in the field. He knows everything about the cooking and food industry. If he thinks you’re not fit enough, then maybe you’re truly not fit to be a chef.

You’ve already tried to step up to the plate, but he thinks it’s not enough.

You’ve already used all of your tools and talents, but he thinks it’s not enough.

You’re not enough.

What is considered enough?

He looks over his shoulder, and you hear him mutter.

“We saved you from elimination. You must prove to us that saving you was the best decision. You must prove to us that you are more worthy of winning than your teammates that were eliminated. Remember that.”

A tear almost slips from your eye.

You give up.

THE ONE TIME YOU PROVE HIM WRONG.

“I have come to the decision to withdraw from the competition.”

“If that’s your decision, then so be it. We regret seeing you go. Thank you for showing us your talent. You may go and pack your things because your journey at MasterChef ends here.”

Upon entering the huge kitchen, you head towards the light switches to turn on the spotlight for your workstation. The kitchen has never been so quiet nor has it been so peaceful. You feel your feet being glued to the ground, almost as if they’re keeping you from leaving. When you were a kid, you loved ditching your homework to spend time with your mother in the kitchen. You would even take a stool from the dining room to place it right next to her to have a full view of how she cooked your meals. Your home kitchen was your safe haven, your safe space, where you could truly be yourself. It was what brought you closer to your mother. It was what reminded you of your mother.

But you had no choice. You force yourself, trudging your way towards your station to pack up all of your utensils. From cooking knives to ladles, you packed them away in a moving box. From your favorite fine China dishes to your custom-made chopsticks, you admired them one last time underneath the spotlight before tucking them away. You turn on the sink to dampen your towel. You wipe down your station one last time before wringing the towel out. Letting out a sigh, you wipe the beads of sweat that are forming on your forehead. This is it. Your journey at MasterChef ends here—

“What on earth are you doing?”

Looking up from your counter, you spot Jaehyun walking along the front of the space. He’s the last person you want to see. He’s the last person you want to talk to, especially right now. He has his hands tucked into his pockets as he makes his way towards you.

“I’m packing up my things.” You answer simply with a blank face.

“Why are you packing up your things? The competition isn’t over yet.” He finally makes it to your counter. Underneath the spotlight, he notices how bloodshot red your eyes are. You’ve cried all night over this competition and it brought you to your decision of withdrawing.

“The competition isn’t over yet for my fellow contestants,” you begin, “but the competition is over for me.”

“I’m not sure if I understand what you’re saying—”

“I’ve withdrawn from the competition.” You make it make sense for him. Jaehyun takes a couple of seconds for your words to sink in. Once he’s processes your words, his eyebrows furrow in confusion and frustration.

“What?” He blurts out. “W-Why?”

You grow confused. That’s his reaction? “Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving the competition? It’s one less thing to worry about, right? Your decision in choosing chefs to advance to the next round won’t be hard anymore because I’m leaving. Everything will be better without me—”

“Why would I be happy over a contestant’s voluntary withdrawal from the competition?” He cuts you off.

You fall silent. Suddenly, you have no energy trying to defend yourself. With everything piling up, you’ve decided to give up. Everything that has happened to you in the past has led you to this moment. From spilling wine all over Jaehyun’s drink to messing up Jaehyun’s dish at your internship in Florence to your time here at MasterChef, it has brought you to the conclusion that maybe Jaehyun was right: you’re not fit or qualified enough to be a chef.

“In a competition, you should not associate your emotions with your overall performance. Whatever you create here in the kitchen is what we judge.” He says sternly with his hands placed on top of the marble of your countertop. “You and I are both aware that this is a competition. You are aware that your performance and the dishes you create are going to be commented on by judges. But as judges, we make those comments, good or bad, are to help you improve.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like comments to me. I don’t feel like you’re helping me improve. I feel stuck with no direction given. I just feel like you have this predisposed idea of who I am after all those negative encounters we’ve had in the past which is why you treat me like this.” You finally get it off of your chest. You feel extremely vulnerable in front of Jaehyun. All of your emotions that you’ve held in for so long are beginning to hit the surface. “And this is why I’ve decided to do everyone all a favor and withdraw.”

He pushes himself off of the countertop and holds in a sigh. You let your head hang low. His eyes land on the cardboard box sitting on the floor. It’s filled with all of your cooking utensils. He sees an old washed out apron sitting right on top of all the pans and dishes. Stitched right near the upper corner of the apron is a name. It’s not your name, but your mother’s name. The apron has been through a lot. It’s been through a lot of washes. It’s been through a lot of spills. But you have never once thought of throwing it out because it was the only thing you had left of your mother. Aside from all the memories you have of and with her, of course.

“Well, withdrawing from the competition means that you’re aware that you have no confidence in yourself.”

“I hope you’re hearing yourself right now.” You mutter softly.

“Do you really think you’re not fit to be a chef?” He questions.

“Well, you sure make me feel like it—” You scoff.

“Cook me your best dish, then. If I think it’s horrible, then maybe withdrawing is the best decision.”

“I thought you’ve already made it clear that I’m not fit or qualified enough to be a chef—”

“You have sixty minutes.”

“Chef—”

“Your time starts now.”

Before you could protest, Jaehyun turns his back towards you and walks away. You’re trying so hard not to burst out into flames. The urgency to flip him off makes your blood boil. As he takes his seat at the front behind the judges’ table, you bend down to finish packing up your things. Jaehyun seems to pick up that you’re not taking up the challenge.

“You claim that I was discouraging you this entire competition. You said that you have potential. You want to prove me wrong, right?”

You stop in your tracks. You sure do. You want to prove Jaehyun wrong so badly. With a burning passion. When he sees that you’ve stopped, he knows that he’s slowly changing your mind.

“This is your chance to prove me wrong. Prove to me that you deserve to stay in this competition.”

You will yourself back up, fiery eyes meeting him. He knows that he’s turned the gears in your head. After you’ve given it much thought, you decided that if you were going to withdraw from the competition, you might as well show him what kind of aspiring chef they’re going to regret letting go of. You guess it was a pride thing. But you’ve never wanted to prove Jeong Jaehyun wrong so badly until now.

Jaehyun stares at you as you walk away from your station and into the large pantry with all the fresh ingredients. A smirk slowly begins to spread across his lips. You’re grabbing many ingredients from the pantry. There are some questionable pairs but ever since the start of the competition, you’ve always been experimental with your dishes. Surprisingly, they always turn out delicious no matter how ambiguous the ingredients are relative to each other. You finally return to your workstation to begin cooking your dish.

“Fifty-five minutes left,” he yells out to you.

You slightly jump. It’s just the two of you in the kitchen. If you were quite honest, it felt a bit intimate. But you felt a lot of pressure on your shoulders. Here you are, cooking for a world-renowned chef, after voluntarily withdrawing from a competition that he judges for. Here you are, cooking for a world-renowned chef who asked you to cook him a dish to prove him wrong.

A deconstructed pie. That is what you have in mind.

There are two ingredients that you’ve never paired together before; grapefruit and basil. You’re planning on making a deconstructed raspberry and basil pie. The pie will consist of basil jelly and grapefruit curd, topping it all off with Italian meringue.

“What are you making?” Jaehyun asks when he walks up to your station.

“A pie.”

“In an hour?” Jaehyun questions. You slowly nod your head, trying to keep yourself focused on your work. “Pies usually take more than one hour to make.”

“It’s going to be a deconstructed pie. Grapefruit and basil. Instead of using the crust, I’ll be using graham cracker crumbles.” You explain while juicing your grapefruits.

“Grapefruit and basil? Don’t you think that those two together would be a bit… risky?”

You shake your head. “Basil goes well with lots of fruits. I wouldn’t be surprised if basil went well with grapefruit.”

“I’ve tried a grapefruit and basil pie once. I don’t remember where, but it was delicious. I have high expectations for this. Yours will be the second grapefruit and basil pie that I have ever had in my entire life.” He comments. What a way to put the pressure on you. You don’t say anything. “Alright, then I guess—”

“You’re distracting me.” You cut him off. “Do you mind going back to the front and sitting there while I continue doing whatever it is that I need to do?”

“Sassy,” he grins. “Fine. I’ll be up at the front. You have forty-five minutes left.”

Forty-five minutes left to prove yourself. At this point, you’re not trying to prove you are worthy of staying in the competition. You’re trying to prove that you are nothing what Jaehyun thinks of you. You’re trying to prove Jaehyun that you are fit and qualified enough to be a chef and that this is made for you. It is something you love doing. It is your passion.

Jaehyun plops his butt down onto his seat and watches you cook up your dish. You’re making grapefruit zest while making sure the grapefruit curd isn’t being overcooked. He finds himself staring at you with awe.

When Jaehyun met you for the first time, he didn’t like you. You ruined his shirt. His favorite shirt. But another reason why he didn’t like you was because you didn’t look confident enough. When Jaehyun met you for the first time, you were hiding behind the executive chef, too humiliated by your own actions. He saw right through you at that moment. You had an inferiority complex. You were not confident enough in yourself. You were shy. You always doubted yourself. But when his eyes met yours, he saw a fire ignite within them.

When Jaehyun met you for the second time, you weren’t a waitress. You were a line cook. A culinary intern. You ruined his dish. When Jaehyun met you for the second time, he still didn’t like you. It was because after all the months that have passed by, you still don’t look confident enough in yourself. It made him uneasy. But the only difference that time around is that although he still didn’t like you, he knew that eventually, he would, because he saw potential. Leaving the restaurant that day after tasting your subpar dish made him uneasy, knowing that he could’ve done something to lift your spirits up. He knew that he had to do something to make you learn how to be confident in your cooking because that was the first step to making perfect dishes. If you were confident to cook, your dishes would reflect it. When Jaehyun met you for the second time, he realized that he didn’t like you because you reminded him of himself.

When Jaehyun met you for the third time, you were taking a chance at MasterChef. It was a year since the last time he saw you. On your first and second encounters with Jaehyun, the both of you were in Florence. But the third time, the both of you are in Seoul. It almost seemed fated. When Jaehyun boarded the plane in Florence going back to Seoul, he couldn’t get you off his mind. What if he tried to lift you up? What was it that he could’ve done to encourage you? He regretted being cold to you. He knew that if he had just been a bit nicer, a bit more sincere, it would’ve further ignited the flame that was already lit within you. It was like the heavens had heard him and sent you to him for a third time.

He knew this was his third and final chance to make things right.

“Twenty minutes!” He yells.

“I heard you loud and clear, geez.” You place a hand over your heart as you continue your work.

You’re working on your Italian meringue. It was something you learned how to do while you were doing your culinary internship in Florence. Making Italian meringue is completely different from making regular meringue. It requires more precision and accuracy. It requires more attention to detail. If you mess up the meringue, you’re practically messing up the entire dish.

You don’t want that happening. That’s the last thing you want.

While you’re waiting for the sugar water to boil at an ideal temperature, you’re beginning to plate your dish. Gently and slowly, you place a layer of grapefruit curd at the bottom of the bowl. It acts almost like a bed for the basil jelly and Italian meringue. At perfect timing, the sugar water has reached its ideal temperature and you immediately take it off of the stove. You walk over to your stand mixer, turning it on and gradually pouring in the sugar mixture into the egg whites. The egg whites slowly turn into a beautiful meringue. Sweet. Fluffy. Almost like marshmallows. Once you’ve poured the entire sugar mixture, you continue to mix the meringue until the bottom of the bowl runs cold to the touch.

“Fifteen minutes!”

Jaehyun waits for you to say something but nothing comes out. He checks up on you and realizes you’re too focused on placing the meringue into a piping bag. He never knew how pretty someone could look under the harsh light of the stage kitchen. The brightness only highlighted your features that were solely focused on creating the perfect deconstructed pie.

This was a first for Jaehyun—being mesmerized by a contestant under his wing. And as his heart caught on fire, much like the gas stove he used to use when he learned to cook all those years ago, Jaehyun also hoped it would be the last.

Having the chance to see you again is definitely a chance given by fate. The idea that you could be gone from the competition out of your own will absolutely terrifies him. It’s the last thing he wants. He wants you to realize how much talent you have. He wants you to realize that you have a lot of potential. He wants to be close to you. He wants to get to know you more. He’s only been able to do that through your dishes. Lately, it’s been hard to look directly into your eyes because it makes him grow nervous. While you’re the only contestant that’s around his age, he’s never felt more connected to someone until he met you. You most likely feel the complete opposite of him, but this is because he has the tendency to push people away. He pushes you away because he’s scared that once he screws up this chance to make things right, he might not forgive himself. It’ll be all his fault.

“Ten minutes!”

You’re piping the Italian meringue onto the bed of grapefruit curd. After that, you’re slicing up the basil jelly into small cubes. You place the basil jelly cubes on top of the grapefruit curd along the Italian meringue. Lastly, you’re grabbing a handful of graham crumbles and scattering them carefully on top of the Italian meringue, basil jelly cubes, and the grapefruit curd. Your deconstructed pie is almost done. You rummage through the drawers to find a torch. You light the torch on to slightly toast the Italian meringue. You don’t want it to burn, you want a nice toast on the top.

“Five minutes!”

You fix up your dish one last time with roughly four minutes to spare. You slowly head up to the front of the kitchen with your deconstructed pie. Jaehyun meets your gaze and he smiles. Oh, how you wish you could wipe that smile off of his face. Placing the dish right in front of him, you step back for him to taste it.

“Do you mind going through how you prepared this dish?” Jaehyun asks as he opens one of the drawers to pull out a spoon.

You clear your throat. “It is a deconstructed grapefruit and basil pie. It consists of grapefruit curd as a bed layer with basil jelly, graham crumbles, and Italian meringue.”

“Why did you choose to make Italian meringue instead of the usual meringue?” He asks.

“I chose to use Italian meringue for this dish because Italian meringue has a more marshmallowy, soft, fluffy consistency in comparison to ordinary meringue.” You explain. “I think the soft, fluffy texture of Italian meringue fits perfectly with the creamy grapefruit curd and basil jelly.”

“I’m going to take a spoonful of everything.” Jaehyun begins as he scoops a little bit of grapefruit curd mixed with graham crumbles, a single basil jelly, and a single Italian meringue. The both of you meet eyes and he puts the spoon into his mouth.

As he’s taking a moment to savor the flavors, you let your head hang low. You’re expecting him to let out a frustrated sigh. You’re expecting him to come up with the rudest comment on your dish. It’s horrible. It tastes horrible. You’re waiting for those words to come out of his mouth—

“It’s… delicious.”

Your head shoots up. He digs in for another spoonful of your deconstructed pie. “Sorry… what?”

“I said,” he says, “it’s delicious.”

You let out a breathless laugh. Were you hearing things right? Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you and you straighten up your posture. “Sorry, I just—this is the first time I’ve ever heard something nice coming from you.”

“It not only tastes delicious but it tastes familiar.” He mumbles softly. “It reminds me of this diner my parents used to take me to after basketball practice. The diner was somewhere near Yonsei University where my parents used to teach. That diner served grapefruit and basil pie. I think I was about twelve or thirteen years old. It’s been a while since I’ve had it but I could still remember it so vividly—”

“Mina’s Place?” You whisper.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows raise with surprise and his face is overcome with realization. Mina’s Place. The reason why he hasn’t been to the diner in a while is because it closed down when he made a visit. It was a sudden shutdown and his family never knew what happened to the owners. They were unique and both of his parents’ favorite place to wind down after a day of teaching culinary students. That diner’s grapefruit and basil pie had inspired him to follow the footsteps of his parents. It was the unusual pairing of basil and fruit that made him curious, it was what drove him to start cooking.

“Yeah… Mina’s Place.” He mumbles softly. “It’s too bad it closed down too soon.”

Your head hangs low again. Mina’s Place was your mother’s product of hardwork and dedication. Your late mother had bought the space and created it into a diner where she was able to cook up whatever she wanted for her guests. It was what made her happy. But when your mother started to grow sick, it was your father that took over the diner in hopes that she would return. But your mother’s health continued to deteriorate until she passed away at an early age of forty-seven. Ever since her passing, the diner wasn’t the same. Your father had decided to sell the diner to a young couple who were looking to start their own restaurant.

Your mother’s best-selling item on the menu was the grapefruit and basil pie. Until this day, you are grateful that she managed to pass the recipe down to you. You had loved and admired your mother’s love for cooking. You would spend most of your days watching her cook. You would ditch everything to learn how to cook, especially from your mother. The deconstructed pie that you had made for Jaehyun is a representation of how much you miss her and how much she inspired you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Jaehyun looks at you confusedly. “Thank you for cherishing my mother’s passion, for cherishing her love of cooking. She would be thrilled to know that there was someone who loved her grapefruit and basil pie.”

“Y-You’re joking,” he shakes his head. “She’s your mother?”

You purse your lips into a tight line, nodding. “We closed down the place because she died of cancer. It didn’t make sense to take on the diner after her passing. My father had no idea how to cook.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry—”

“I decided to study culinary arts because it’s the only thing that reminds me of her. It’s the only thing that brings me closer to her. I also wanted to open up a diner in her honor, to celebrate her life. I think that’s what she truly wanted… to spend most of her life with her family and at the diner.” You chuckle, wiping away a tear that slides down your cheek. “And don’t apologize. You had no idea.”

“But still, I—”

“I’ve decided to stick with my decision regardless of whether you enjoyed my dish or not. I’m going to withdraw from the competition.” You clasp your hands together.

Jaehyun watches you as you carefully take off your apron. You place the apron right next to your dish before bowing to him. “Y/N, no—”

“Thank you for everything, chef. It was an honor cooking for you and I’m glad you enjoyed the pie.”

“Y/N, no, please. Stay here with—” Me. That’s what he wants to say. It almost terrifies him that this is the first thing that crosses his mind. It catches him off guard. He’s never had the urge to let you stay. He’s never been afraid of losing you. He’s never been terrified of slowly realizing your importance and your effect on him. “The other contestants. You’re worthy of the chance. Just like them.”

“I’ve already told the producers—”

“We can always take it back. You can always take it back.” He cuts you off. “Don’t withdraw. You have so many more things to accomplish, to conquer, to show off. You have talent, Y/N. Withdrawing from the competition will be the biggest mistake of your life—”

“Please don’t say all of that if you don’t even mean it—”

“I mean it. Stay.” He’s so close to begging. “Your mother was one of the few driving forces that led me to becoming a chef. If it weren’t for your mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

“You’re lying,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re just making this hard for me.”

“Stay for your mother. I’m sure she would want you to finish the competition regardless of whether you win or not—”

“But you wanted me gone since the first round—” Never. He never wanted you to leave. He wanted you to stay. He wanted to help you. He wanted to encourage you to work hard for your dreams.

“Do it for her. Do it for Mina’s Place.”

You fall silent. For a moment, you could hear your mother’s voice chanting you on. You could hear her giggles and laughter. You could see her bright smile. It makes your eyes glassy. Your eyes trail down towards the pie that you made. As you fixate on the pie, you wipe away a few more tears.

“Yes, chef. I’ll stay.”

“How did you change her mind?”

Taeyong stands next to Jaehyun and watches you as you return your things back into their respective drawers at your station. Taeyong, along with Doyoung, had expected your station to be empty the following morning. But there you were, absolutely present, setting up your station before the next round of the competition begins. Jaehyun shoves his hands into his pockets and watches you intently, not being able to tear his gaze away from you.

“Let’s just say I worked my magic,” he answers softly.

Doyoung glances at his co-judge, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. He follows Jaehyun’s line of sight and it lands on you. Taeyong seems to pick it up as well and a cheeky grin spreads across his lips. Taeyong has worked with Jaehyun for many years. They opened up one three-Michelin starred restaurant in Florence together and they ran the restaurant for many years. From Jaehyun’s inner thoughts to his feelings, Taeyong knows him so well. In fact, Taeyong hasn’t seen Jaehyun like this in so long.

Work has been the main priority for Jaehyun. Taeyong was always trying to get his best friend to loosen up and meet some people while they were in Italy. But Jaehyun was always closed up and always stayed back in the kitchen. It was sad for Taeyong to see his best friend have a lack of social life—moreover, a dating life. Jaehyun’s last relationship was a couple of years ago and it ended on horrible terms. In particular, his breakup happened right before he boarded his flight to Italy. Taeyong knows that it left such a negative impact on his best friend. Jaehyun had promised to never fall in love again after his breakup, devoting his entire life to cooking and being in the kitchen… never leaving it once.

But seeing how Jaehyun looks at you, Taeyong is starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Alright, chefs! We’ll be starting in ten minutes! Relax, grab a drink, and we’ll regroup.” Doyoung announces.

You suck in a deep breath, heading towards the water dispenser to get yourself a cup of water. Taeil follows behind you, grabbing himself a cup of water too. He tilts his head in confusion, analyzing your every move. You seem to notice and when the two of you finally make it up to the balcony that oversees the entire kitchen, you face him.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask.

Taeil shakes his head. “No! No, not at all. I was just—I thought you said you were going to withdraw from the competition.”

You take a swig of your water. “I did. But… I changed my mind. I decided to stay.”

“What changed your mind?” Taeil questions. Everyone’s beginning to gather at the balcony before the new round of the competition begins.

Before you could even answer Taeil’s question, Chef Jaehyun stands in the space between you two. He leans over the railing of the balcony. You and Taeil share a look. You clear your throat, adding a bit more distance between you and Chef Jaehyun. Taeil studies your body language and it’s almost as if he reads your mind. Ah, Chef Jaehyun changed your mind.

“Ah, I see.” Taeil slowly nods his head. “Well, good luck, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do well in the next round.”

Taeil leaves you and Chef Jaehyun alone to talk with other contestants. You’re looking everywhere but at Chef Jaehyun, busying yourself by the water in your cup.

Jaehyun can’t comprehend what’s going on with him. He can’t find the courage to look at you. But when he does, he can’t seem to breathe because his heartbeat picks up its pace. He clears his throat. “Are you ready for the next round?”

You finally look at him. You straighten up your posture. “Yes, chef.”

“Y/N, no, please. Stay here with—the other contestants. You’re worthy of the chance. Just like them.”

“Don’t withdraw. You have so many more things to accomplish, to conquer, to show off. You have talent, Y/N. Withdrawing from the competition will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I mean it. Stay. Your mother was one of the few driving forces that led me to becoming a chef. If it weren’t for your mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

It’s hard to get rid of Chef Jaehyun’s voice out of your head. Whatever happened a couple of nights ago in the kitchen felt a bit too intimate. You were cooking one of your best dishes, a dish that meant a lot to you, for one of the most famous chefs in the world. It was just the two of you in the kitchen. Chef Jaehyun had begged you to stay in the competition. All of those events that night were driving you crazy.

What Chef Jaehyun does next snaps you out of your thoughts. He places his hand on your head and ruffles your hair. Your eyes slightly widen and you freeze. “Good luck.”

When he leaves to speak with the other contestants, you’re left all alone by the balcony with a heart beating so fast. You almost drop your cup of water but you catch yourself just in time. You place a hand over your heart as if it’ll help it stop beating so fast.

There’s been a shift between you and Chef Jaehyun ever since that night.

You’ve always despised Chef Jaehyun. You didn’t even like him to begin with. Not one single bit.

But now… you’re not quite sure anymore.

“There are only two more rounds left in the competition. But this round determines who has a chance to be the next MasterChef. Who will make it to the final round of MasterChef? We shall find out! For today’s challenge, the three of you will be paired up with one of us to cook up a special meal for your own friends.”

There are three contestants left in the competition. Those contestants are you, Taeil, and Seokjin. Each one of you is called up to the front to pick a slip of paper from a box. The chef that’s on your chosen slip of paper will be the chef that you will be paired up to cook with. Whoever you end up with wouldn’t matter because the three of them are perfect in their own way.

Chef Jaehyun is a perfectionist. He’s also competitive. He loves making sure that the food he puts out is more than perfect. It gives him relief and satisfaction knowing that his customers love the food that he makes for them. He’s surely known all over the world for being overly meticulous. He’s also known for running many successful restaurants. He has strong ties with restaurants in Florence. Being paired up with Chef Jaehyun means that you are guaranteed to make a successful dish.

Chef Taeyong is also a perfectionist but not as competitive as Chef Jaehyun. He always makes sure that he thoroughly enjoys the process of cooking. He’s almost like a mother. He cooks for people because he genuinely enjoys doing it. It’s a hobby that he enjoys doing and somehow, it brings him fortune and success. Being paired up with Chef Taeyong means that you’ll not only make a perfect dish, but you’ll also have fun making it and create a story along with it.

Chef Doyoung is not a perfectionist, but he has a great sense of his ingredients. He knows the compatibility of ingredients, which is something every chef wants to have. It’s a trait that is rare to find in chefs. This trait had led him to win MasterChef when he was a contestant. To others, his dishes might be ambiguous but once people try it, they would have never imagined such a dish to work out. Being paired up with Chef Doyoung means that you are willing to take risks that will elevate your dish and bring out uniqueness.

When you open your slip of paper, you almost let out a laugh.

Chef Jaehyun.

Fate loves playing games with you.

“I got Chef Jaehyun,” you hold up your slip of paper. You and Taeil exchange looks.

When your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun’s, he bites back a smile that’s threatening to spread across his lips. The two other chefs can’t seem to hold back their smiles either. You look down, growing too shy with all of the attention on you.

“I got Chef Taeyong.” Taeil shows his slip of paper.

“And that means I got Chef Doyoung.” Seokjin finishes, holding up his slip of paper.

“Perfect. We’ll start in five minutes. During these five minutes, we will all discuss with our partners and plan out our dishes accordingly.” Chef Taeyong announces.

When Chef Jaehyun heads over to your workstation, you can’t seem to compose yourself. Your mind is going insane. You’re not sure if you’re going to end up regretting having Chef Jaehyun as your partner or be grateful that he could help you secure a spot in the finals.

“I’m surprised you’re not sick and tired of me yet,” he mumbles. “It’s just always gonna be you and me, huh?”

“I’m surprised you’re not sick and tired of me yet either,” you shrug your shoulders.

“I guess fate likes the two of us together.” He says, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m sure fate hates me and is punishing me by pairing me up with you.” You mutter underneath your breath.

“I heard that.”

“You were supposed to.”

Working together with Chef Jaehyun is a pain in the ass.

“The sashimi should be cut like this!”

“Yeah, I know! I can see it!”

It’s been non-stop bickering for the past fifteen minutes. There’s forty-five minutes left before you have to send out your dishes to your friends. With the grin planted across Chef Jaehyun’s lips, you’re not sure if he’s doing this for fun or if he’s genuinely being strict and serious.

“You’re in the way.” You nudge him aside to grab the bottle of Japanese mayonnaise. “Do you mind checking on my rolls?”

“They look good—”

“You didn’t even look at them!” You look at him as if he had ten heads.

“I don’t need to look at them to know if they look good or not.” He rolls his California rolls. “You need to be more confident in yourself. Do you think they look good?”

“Of course, because I made them.” You fold your arms.

“Then they look good! You have to trust yourself, Y/N.” He slices through the California roll before rolling each of them into Panko. “I feel like you don’t trust yourself enough.”

Chef Jaehyun’s right. You don’t trust yourself enough. When he notices how silent you’ve gotten, he finally takes a look at your California rolls. He analyzes the contents of your roll before smiling. “It looks perfect to me. You see, I didn’t need to look at them to tell you that they’re good. You put the right amount of crab meat. There’s a balance between the crab meat and rice. The roll is consistent. The rice is sticky enough. It’s perfect, Y/N, stop doubting yourself.”

“Really…?”

“Really. Now, get back to work because we don’t have much time left.”

As the two of you both get back to work, Jaehyun can’t seem to stop himself from smiling. If there was one thing he wanted to do with someone special to him, it was to make a meal together. He learns more about someone through the art of cooking. You’re an expert at baking and inherited those skills from your mother. You know your spices so well that they come to you so naturally. You know how to balance your ingredients. You know when two ingredients work and when it doesn’t.

You’re the complete opposite of him. Jaehyun is an expert at everything but baking. He doesn’t have a great sense of spices and would often plan out his dishes carefully. Making a perfect dish doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s more on the practical side of cooking. Jaehyun thinks you’re the perfect match for him. Whether it be in the kitchen or as someone he’d like to pursue… he’s not sure.

It would be a huge lie if Jaehyun wasn’t attracted to you. He doesn’t know when the switch happened. Maybe he liked you from the start.

It’s almost as if fate had you written in his stars. When Jaehyun had been dumped by his ex-girlfriend right before he boarded his plane to Florence, he was devastated. He was devastated knowing that his ex-girlfriend whom he was planning on proposing to was cheating on him that entire time. He was devastated knowing that he lost one of his few passions; the love of his life. Heartbroken. Closed off. Focus on working. Focus on hustle culture. Never falling in love again. That was Jaehyun’s mindset.

But now that he thinks about it and all the encounters you’ve had with him, meeting you for the first time in Florence must be a fateful encounter. From spilling expensive wine all over his shirt to serving him a horrible dish as a culinary intern, no matter how embarrassing those experiences were, it must be fate. You make him worry about you. You make him think about you a bit too often. He goes out of his way to make sure nothing horrible happens to you. He doesn’t want you to be hurt.

Meeting you may be a special event that has happened in his life.

“Chef? Chef…?”

He snaps out of his thoughts. You’re giving him a funny look.

“You were saying?”

“You have some seaweed on your face, chef.”

“I-I do? Where—”

Before he could even wipe his face with his hands, you’re already reaching up to rub off the seaweed crumbs off of his face. He freezes in his spot. His eyes look down to meet yours. When you finally brush the seaweed crumbs off of his crimson red cheeks, your eyes shift to his. It’s your turn to freeze. Out of instinct, Jaehyun gently holds your arms. He holds you so carefully… almost cautiously. Somehow, he can’t speak. Somehow, everything that surrounds the two of you becomes nothing but white noise. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips.

“You have fifteen minutes left! Fifteen minutes!”

You both are startled, repelling from each other. To calm your unsteady heart, you focus on finishing your last few sushi rolls before you begin plating them. Jaehyun stands more than a meter away from you, not making any sort of conversation with you for the remainder of the fifteen minutes. His heart is beating so fast that he’s afraid you could hear it ramming out of his chest.

It’s all starting to make sense. To him, at least.

He’s slowly—but surely—falling in love with you.

The morning of the final round of MasterChef, you wake up still in disbelief that you’re one step closer to becoming the champion. In the semi-finals, your great teamwork with Chef Jaehyun has secured you a spot in the finals, giving you a bigger chance of winning the entire competition. There’s no backing down for you. The possibility that your dreams can come true is still surreal for you and now you’re willing to put in all the effort to make sure that possibility becomes reality.

As soon as you enter the kitchen, you spot none other than Taeil, who’s already setting up his station. You and Taeil both find it funny how although you’re both closest to each other and have become good friends in the competition, here you both are, competing against each other to become the champion of MasterChef. It’s a friendly competition. You can’t imagine finishing the entire competition with anyone else.

“Hello, chef.” You greet him.

“Good morning, Y/N. Today is the day.” He smiles. “Good luck. Let the MasterChef win.”

Everyone begins to gather around. Your friends and family and Taeil’s friends and family. The three chef judges make their ways to the front after getting their hair and makeup done. The kitchen is set up differently this time around. Instead of the normal rectangular work stations, the station is set up as a circle that surrounds both you and Taeil. The two of you will work on opposite sides of the circle.

As you and Taeil get settled and wait for filming to start, your eyes catch Chef Jaehyun’s. You’re almost surprised and a bit taken aback to catch him already looking at you. He’s dressed up quite nice today. He’s wearing an indigo suit with his hair styled back. He has such prominent eyebrows, you notice, since he’s always had his hair down. He’s… handsome.

And he smiles at you.

Not knowing what to do in return, you flash him a small, timid smile before looking away. In just a few minutes, the final round will begin and your fate will be determined. You spot your father who’s wiping away tears with his handkerchief. Sitting in his arms is a framed picture of your mother. Your eyes slowly tear up but you blink them away.

“We will start in three… two… one… action!”

“Welcome everyone, to the final round of MasterChef.”

“Today, we will find out who is this season’s MasterChef.”

“Will it be Taeil? Or Y/N? We shall find out!”

For the final round of MasterChef, you and Taeil will be cooking up three dishes for the chef judges. The first dish will be the appetizer. Following the first dish is the entree. The third and final dish is the dessert. You and Taeil were given a week to figure out what you’re going to serve the chef judges. You have decided to base your dishes around the theme of apples. All three of your dishes contain apples.

The first round of three begins and you’re cooking up your first dish. For your first dish, you’re creating a scotch quail egg that will rest on top of a bed of parsnips and potatoes. You envision this dish to replicate a bird’s nest, where the bed of parsnips and potatoes act as the nest that protects the scotch quail egg. The scotch quail egg is different, however, because you will incorporate apples into the coating that surrounds it.

“Your time starts now!”

You and Taeil busy yourselves at your own sides of the circle. You’re beginning your dish by boiling a pot of water for your quail eggs. At the same time, you’re bringing out the ground pork and a couple of red gala apples. As you’re cutting the gala apples, you make sure to cut them into cubes to make them stand out in the scotch egg. From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun step off of the stage to head towards you.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greets you as he approaches your side of the station. “What are you making for us?”

“A scotch quail egg,” you mumble.

“With apples?” You hum in reply. “And what are you going to do with the potatoes?”

“I’m going to slice them up to replicate a nest for the quail eggs to rest on.” You answer.

“That seems like a bit of an easy dish, don’t you think?” He purses his lips into a tight line. “Do you think it’ll be enough to impress us?”

“Yes,” you mumble, trying your best not to let him distract you.

“Are you sure your quail eggs are going to be cooked properly? They shouldn’t be—”

“Overcooked, yes, I am very much aware of that, Chef Jaehyun.” You cut him off.

He chuckles. Your ears perk up. “It seems like you don’t want me around. Am I distracting you?”

“Yes,” you answer and everyone around you laughs. “I guess you’ll just have to see what I have planned for you when I serve it to you later.”

“Sounds good. I’m excited to see what you bring to the table, Y/N.” He searches for your eyes, but they’re busy looking at other things. In reality, you’re just too shy to look at him. “Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, chef.”

Returning to your station, you keep the judges’ comments on your appetizer in your thoughts to improve on the next dish. The next dish that you’re going to cook up for them is the entree. Because your appetizer was easy to make, this left you ample time to begin preparing for your entree. You plan to serve the chef judges an entree dish that you call, rabbit two ways, in which you will serve them two different kinds of rabbit meat while incorporating bursts of apple flavors into it. The timer starts and you and Taeil get to work.

“I like how you presented this dish. It looks like a bird’s nest!”

Chef Taeyong’s comments on your dish had given you the motivation and desire to win the competition. From the start of the competition all the way to the final round, Chef Taeyong has been nothing but encouraging and genuine. All of his comments and advice shaped you into who you are as a chef today, at this very moment.

“Although there are some burnt potatoes and parsnips in my dish, I think that it surprisingly complemented the sweet flavors of the apple in the scotch egg.”

Chef Doyoung, a MasterChef champion, is someone you always looked up to. You remember watching the season that he was competing in and having a gut feeling that he would make it to the final round. There was something special about Chef Doyoung and his dishes. Every dish he created had its own story, and of course, it would always look and taste delicious. Hearing his comments throughout your journey in the competition has also helped you learn and create a chef’s mindset.

“I think I would definitely serve something like this as an appetizer at one of my restaurants. The presentation is spot on. I couldn’t have imagined a scotch egg to be presented in any other way. It’s almost as if you’re recreating nature, mother nature I would say, through your dishes. The flavors balance so well, which is not surprising because you’ve always had a good sense of your spices. Very well done, Y/N.”

Chef Jaehyun, although you disliked him at first, has truly been the one who wanted to see you succeed. Ever since he had tried to change your mind about withdrawing from the competition you couldn’t help but think that he was the one who truly liked you and your performance in the competition all along. If he didn’t try to change your mind, you would have probably withdrawn from the competition and returned back to the starting position of your journey. Chef Jaehyun has made you realize that if you truly want something, you have to work extremely hard for it. He made you realize that you’re better than what you think and most of the time, you’re just being hard on yourself. Someday, you plan on thanking him for being tough on you because it helped you on your journey to becoming a chef.

As you heat up the pan on the stove, you slice and dice up your apples to fuse them with the rabbit meat. Placing them onto the pan, you begin creating your artichoke puree that will amplify the flavors of the dish. From time to time, you could check up on the rabbit meat to make sure that you weren’t overcooking it. Overcooking rabbit meat would be horrifying because it would only mean that you would have to cook a new batch in so little time. It is extremely crucial to your dish.

“You have fifteen minutes left!”

You spent the remaining fifteen minutes focusing on the rabbit meat since you have finished making the artichoke puree. After already beginning to plate your dish with the puree, you place the rabbit meat onto a frying rack to drain out the oil. Your hands are shaking out of complete nervousness. You want this so bad. But the fact that you’re serving a dish that you haven’t even tasted is such a huge risk to take.

“Five minutes left!”

Drizzling a bit more of the artichoke puree on top of the rabbit meat, your nervous hands cause you to drizzle a bit more than needed. Pulling out a clean towel, you wipe off some of the puree that scattered on the sides of the dish. Glancing up at the time, you have one minute left to spare. You take these last few seconds to make sure everything looks good before handing them over to the servers.

“Time’s up! Hands up! Servers, please head to the back to serve the dishes.”

The last and final dish you are going to serve the chef judges is dessert. Dessert is your expertise. Everyone is aware that if there was one thing you excelled at as a chef, it would be through your desserts. You would like to thank your mother for exposing you to the world of baking at such a young age. It truly helped you later on in life, especially in this competition. For this dish, you decided to create a dish that represented a fallen apple or an apple that has fallen from an apple tree. The dish is simply an apple panna cotta, but you will be presenting it in such a way that it looks like an apple that has fallen onto the ground. This dish is going to tie up your ‘apple’ series and hopefully help you win the competition.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m back.” Chef Jaehyun smiles as he visits you at your station once again.

You smile back at him. “Hi, Chef Jaehyun. Is there anything I could help you with?”

“You could help me by letting me know what you’re planning on serving us for dessert.” He grins.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” you mumble softly.

“Mysterious.” He nods his head as he begins to move on to Taeil’s station. “You’re going to surprise us?”

“Yes, chef.” You reply.

“Well, I hope it’ll be worth the surprise! Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, chef!”

For your dish, you’re not planning on serving them a whole apple. You’re going to recreate the apple by making apple jelly. The apple jelly will be shaped like an apple by pouring the mixture into a silicone tray. Since an apple has seeds in the middle, you are going to toast up some pine nut seeds and place them into the middle of the jelly mixture once it’s set. To recreate the red color of an apple, you are going to place a red glaze all over the jelly. Since this dish is going to replicate a fallen apple, you are going to recreate soil by grinding up a mixture of nuts and raisins. This will act as the bed for the fallen apple. Lastly, you are going to recreate the leaves of the apple tree by using sugar and water, and the twigs of the branches with a sweet dough.

“You have twenty minutes left!”

You pull out your silicone trays and you nearly have a heart attack. The jelly is not completely set but you don’t have much time left to keep it in the fridge. You still have to plate the entire dish. Taking the toasted pine nut seeds off the stove, you place them onto a tray to cool down. One by one, you shove pine nut seeds into the apple jelly. The seeds keep popping back up, which confirms that your apple jelly still isn’t set properly. But with the time you have left, you have to take this risk.

“Ten minutes left!”

You begin plating your dish. To plate your apple-themed dessert, you grab the bowl of fake soil that you created with an assortment of nuts and raisins and scoop out two spoons to create a bed for the fallen apple. After you do that on three plates, you carefully pop out the apple jelly from the silicone tray and place it on top of the soil. Then, to decorate the apple jelly, you stick your fake twigs into the jelly and place sugar leaves on top. As you grab the pot of red glaze, you stop in your tracks.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun looking at you as you freeze in your spot. You look deep in thought. Suddenly, you shake your head and place the pot of red glaze back onto the countertop. He tilts his head in confusion.

“Ten seconds left!”

Everyone is beginning to count down and you’re making final touches to your dish. Taeil, on the other hand, already has his hands up to indicate that he’s already done.

“Time’s up! Hands up! Servers, please take the dishes to the back.”

“Alright, Y/N, please tell us what you have served for us.”

Stepping forward, you clear your throat. Each one of them looks at you with anticipation, but it makes you grow even more nervous. You feel more nervous than how you were at the start of the competition. When your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun’s, your mind can’t help but go blank. He gives you an encouraging smile and it’s enough for you to snap back to your senses.

“For dessert, I’ve recreated a fallen apple by making an apple panna cotta. The fallen apple is supported by a bed of soil which is recreated with an assortment of nuts and raisins. To replicate the twigs and leaves of the apple tree, I’ve made a dough for the twigs and used a sugar glaze for the leaves.” You describe your dish. All of their eyebrows raise. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I saw you holding a pot of red glaze earlier and I assumed that you were going to use that to glaze over the apple jelly. But I see that you’ve decided not to use it. Is there a particular reason why you decided to do that?” Chef Jaehyun asks as he’s digging into your dessert by taking a bit of everything onto his spoon.

“I decided not to use red glaze for this dish because I felt like it would look a little bit too fake. I also think that it wouldn’t match the overall colors of the dish.” You explain.

Chef Jaehyun smiles. “I think that was good judgment on your part. If it doesn’t look like it belongs on your dish, then don’t add it. Well done, Y/N.”

“Let’s all dig in.” Chef Doyoung insists.

As they all taste your dish, you nervously fiddle with your fingers. After they have all finished tasting the different components of your dish, they look back up at you.

“I think this is a unique dish, Y/N.” Chef Taeyong begins. He’s the first one to make a comment on your dessert. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The presentation is spot on again. I really like the balance of sweetness from the apple jelly and the richness of the soil. I enjoyed this dish. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, chef.” You mumble.

“I agree with Chef Taeyong.” Chef Doyoung smiles. “I really like how the jelly melts in your mouth and how this is counteracted by the crunchy texture of the nuts. The presentation of the dish is executed very well, it looks like a fallen apple. You’ve done a beautiful job, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much, chef.”

“I agree with all of them.” Chef Jaehyun chuckles. “I see why you decided not to add red glaze to this dish. It would have completely ruined it. I am not one who likes desserts, but this has completely changed it for me. I love how it has the right amount of sweetness. The nuts balance well with the sweetness due to it being so rich in flavor. I would also serve something like this at my restaurant. You’ve come a long way, Y/N. You’ve done an excellent job in finishing up your three-course apple menu.”

“Wow, that means a lot, thank you so much.” You sigh with relief.

“Alright, we’re going to have a bit of a meeting now.” Chef Doyoung chuckles. “The two of you can go back and meet with your family while we go over your dishes and choose this season’s MasterChef.”

“Good luck, Y/N and Taeil.”

“We have finally come to a decision.”

Everyone is gathered near the front of the kitchen. The three judges are standing right in front of you. You and Taeil share glances. Taeil flashes you a huge smile that you mirror back at him. It feels like a dream standing in front of the three chef judges, waiting for them to announce the winner of MasterChef. The journey that you took on this competition is one that you will never forget and one that will change your life forever.

“It was hard to choose a winner for this season’s MasterChef.” Chef Taeyong begins. “Because the two of you have come such a long way since the start of the competition. The two of you have been through tough challenges and elimination tests, but you persevered, and that’s why you’re standing here today.”

“You have both improved and learned a lot since you started your journey here at MasterChef, and your journey continues even after the competition.” Chef Jaehyun clasps his hands together. “I personally think this season is my favorite. This final round has been special. You both served dishes that we have never even seen in the previous seasons of MasterChef. The both of you should be extremely proud of yourselves for making it this far.”

“But we do have to choose one MasterChef winner. The winner will be getting the first prize and a chance to open up their own restaurant or catering service. This will put you out into the field of cuisine and culinary arts, something that we’re all sure that you both came here for.” Chef Doyoung smiles. “Shall we announce the winner?”

“I think we should.” Chef Taeyong chuckles. “It was such a hard decision but…”

“But we have finally chosen this season’s MasterChef.” Chef Doyoung finishes it for him. “Y/N, Taeil, could you please step up to the front?”

You and Taeil head towards the front, hand in hand. Taeil gives your hand a tight, reassuring squeeze. Standing right behind him is his own family. Standing behind you are your relatives and your father, but also your mother, who’s looking down at you from the sky.

“This season’s MasterChef is…”

You close your eyes. Your heart begins to beat faster than horsepower. You would feel like the only woman in the world if you hear your name being called out. Standing right here, with Taeil, in front of three world-renowned chefs, is another reminder of how much you wanted this, why you started this journey, and what you want out of it. It’s not only for you, but for your mother, who would always chase her dreams.

“Congratulations, because you are this season’s MasterChef…”

“Y/N! Congratulations, you are this season’s MasterChef!”

It’s all a blur. Confetti shoots up into the air and falls down like snowflakes. You open your eyes when you feel yourself being attacked by your family with hugs. Taeil’s hand never lets go of yours and he pulls you into a tight, celebratory hug. Your eyes well up with tears.

You can’t believe it.

If only your mother was here to celebrate your win with you. But you’re sure that she’s up in the skies, cheering you on, celebrating your achievement. It’s hard to breathe because it all feels so surreal. When you blink away your tears, your vision becomes clear again and you see the three chef judges coming in to join the big hug. Chef Jaehyun falls within sight and you share gazes.

He flashes you a wide, warm, genuine smile while mouthing ‘congratulations’.

Your heart skips a beat but you pay no attention to it.

You mouth back a ‘thank you, chef’.

AFTER MASTERCHEF.

It’s been a couple of months since you won MasterChef and you’ve been assigned to work alongside Chef Doyoung at one of his new branch locations. You’ve been assigned this job in the meantime while you renovate your new diner that you’ve always wished of running.

If Jaehyun were to be honest, he was quite sad (or should he say, jealous, but he will never admit it) that you were assigned to work with Doyoung. The days after MasterChef have been uneventful and boring. Everywhere he looks, it reminds him of you. Everything he does, it reminds him of you. Stubborn to admit it, he misses it. He misses you.

And so when he steps inside of Doyoung’s new branch location of his restaurant, Doie, he hopes that he could catch you there. Why? Because finding you has been extremely difficult these days.

As he steps into the restaurant, he heads straight to the front desk. The woman working at the front slowly looks up and upon realizing who’s standing right in front of her, her posture straightens.

He flashes her a warm smile. “Is Chef Y/N here?”

“O-Oh! You’re Chef Jaehyun!” She exclaims.

He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yes, that’s me. I decided to drop by and check this place out. I had only found out that Chef Y/N was assigned to work here in the meantime before the opening of Mina’s Place.”

“Unfortunately, Chef Y/N already left. She left a couple of hours ago to attend to some personal matters.” The woman frowns, spinning a pen in between her fingers.

“Oh, is that so?” He’s trying so hard to hide the disappointment in his eyes. “I guess I was a bit too late.”

“Do you want me to pass a message on to her, chef?” She asks insistently.

“Oh, there’s no need. I guess I’ll just drop by tomorrow.” He says with defeat.

Why is it that it used to be so easy to bump into you? Why is it that it’s become so difficult to bump into you now? Why is it so hard to cross paths with you now? It’s been so easy to find you before. But now, when he tries to find you, he can’t. It’s grown into a difficult game of hide and seek.

“Actually—” Jaehyun begins before cutting himself off. “I’ll be right back.”

He rushes out of the restaurant and spots a flower shop right across the road. Stepping inside of the flower shop, he’s greeted by an elderly woman who’s watering a fresh batch of tulips. She places the pail of water back onto the black and white tiled floor.

“Hello, young man, how can I help you?”

He lets his eyes wander around the shop. He can’t seem to figure out what to get.

“I’ve been wanting to get a bouquet of flowers, but I’m not quite sure which flowers to put together.” He scratches the back of his head.

She giggles sheepishly. “Is it for a young lady that’s taken your interest?”

He’s caught off guard by the question. He lets out a shaky, breathy laugh. There’s no way he could be feeling this way for you. Even if he does feel like you’re someone special to him, it’s something that will take a while for him to understand. Liking you is one thing but falling in love with you is another.

“I—I mean—Yeah, I guess so?” He sounds confused.

She tilts her head. “You guess so? Well, young man, the fact that you’ve stepped foot into my shop to get a lovely lady a bouquet of flowers must mean something. She must be someone special.”

The old woman has a point. He wouldn’t be going out of his way to do all of this for you. He wouldn’t be trying to find you. He wouldn’t have the urge to talk to you, to get to know you more.

“I guess you’re right,” he slowly nods his head when everything slowly becomes clear for him. “Alright. Do you mind putting a bouquet together for a young woman that I’ve taken interest in? I want her to like me just as much as I like her.”

The old woman breaks out into a wide smile.

“Right away, sir.”

When the bouquet of white daisies and red tulips is wrapped and bundled together with a plastic wrap, Jaehyun pays for the old woman’s efforts and time before heading back to the restaurant across the road. But before he leaves the flower shop, the old woman gives him words of encouragement. He gives her two thumbs up and heads back.

The woman standing at the front eyes the bouquet of flowers in his hands when he enters. He places the bouquet on top of the counter. “I’m back.”

“You’re back, indeed.”

“Do you mind giving Y/N these flowers when he comes in tomorrow? You could place them in a vase to keep them fresh too.” He asks.

She nods her head. “Will do, chef.”

“Alright, thank you so much. I’ll head on out now—”

“Chef Jaehyun, are you sure you’re just going to give her the bouquet of flowers without a note?”

Shoot. He turns back around. “You’re right, I didn’t write a note.”

She slides over a stack of sticky notes and her own pen. “Here you go, chef.”

He grabs the stack of sticky notes and walks over to one of the tables for two. He plops his butt down onto one of the chairs and thinks about what to write and what type of note he wants to leave you. To him, it seems like he’s been sitting there for hours. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he’ll have to say them one by one.

To Y/N,

I dropped by Doie in hopes of seeing you. Would love to meet and catch up with you over a cup of coffee. I miss hope that we could get in touch soon. On the back of the note is my number. Hope to hear from you soon.

Jaehyun

“A short video?”

The production team exchanges looks before nodding their head. Jaehyun has been called to have a meeting with one of the food companies that he helps endorse. The company is popular for their gluten-free food products. From gluten-free flour to gluten-free bread, the company most likely carries it. It was the first brand that Jaehyun endorsed mainly because he’s always been picky with his food, especially since his mother’s allergic to gluten.

“Yes! With Chef Y/N! It’s a promotion video for one of the new brands we’re carrying here at the supermarket. We’re planning on having the both of you shop around one of our supermarkets and use the groceries to create a dessert for Valentine’s Day.” One of the PR managers explains.

“Did Chef Y/N agree to do the video?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, she just got back to us this morning. She’s interested in doing the video.” Another PR joins the conversation.

“Great. I’ll do the video.”

Everyone looks at each other weirdly. That was such a fast response. They always had trouble negotiating with Jaehyun mainly because of his busy life. But this time, it was different.

“O-Oh? That’s perfect, chef!”

“When do we start?”

A couple of weeks later, you arrive at a supermarket that’s been closed off to the public until noon. It’s been a while since you last saw Chef Jaehyun. You were quite surprised to hear that he had decided to do the cooking video with you. You were even more surprised when the PR team had told you that the MasterChef viewers had voted for the two of you to collaborate for the video. As for the reasons why the viewers voted for the two of you specifically… you still have no idea.

“Chef Jaehyun will be arriving in a bit, he’s running late because of traffic.” The videographer informs you.

“No worries, I’ll keep myself busy in the meantime.” You smile, heading inside of the supermarket to take a look at the groceries.

You start off in the produce section, trying to see what you can come up with for the video. There are fresh large strawberries that you think would be perfect for chocolate-covered strawberries. After all, you and Chef Jaehyun are supposed to create a dish that would be perfect for Valentine’s Day. You try to look for other alternatives, steering away from doing the basics.

“Miss Y/N? Chef Jaehyun has arrived. He’s just outside of the supermarket.” One of the PR interns approaches you, almost startling you.

“Oh! Yes, alright, I’ll head on over with you right now.” You join her as you both walk back outside of the supermarket.

As you walk through the automatic doors, the first thing you spot is a tall figure standing a few meters away. He’s talking to the videographers and the PR interns who are telling him what they have planned for the video. You hesitantly approach them, mumbling a soft, “hello.”

When Chef Jaehyun turns towards you, you see his eyes slightly widen before a flame ignites within them. For a brief moment, you get lost in his eyes because you find yourself focusing more on trying to steady your fast heartbeat. When you come back to your senses, you’re the first to look away.

He clears his throat and you feel his shoulder brush against yours. “Nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

“Nice seeing you too, chef.” You mumble softly. Why do you feel shy?

“Are the two of you ready to start filming? From the scripts that we sent you, it’s going to be a casual type of video.” The videographer explains. “Just to briefly brush over what we have planned for the video, the two of you will be shopping for groceries that the company carries and sells and you will both cook up a dish together. It will be Valentine’s Day themed.”

The both of you slowly nod. “Are you ready?”

You look up to see Chef Jaehyun already looking down at you. You flash him a small, timid smile. “Ready, chef.”

“Perfect! Let’s start with the filming. Be yourselves and of course, have fun!” The videographer clasps his hands together and he pulls out his camera.

You brace yourself.

It’s going to be a long day, that’s for sure.

“Hello everyone, I’m Chef Jaehyun.”

“And I’m Chef Y/N.”

“And today, we’ll be shopping around for ingredients to cook up a meal that you could cook for your loved ones this Valentine’s Day.”

Chef Jaehyun pushes the cart while you look for some fresh fruits in the produce section. The two of you have agreed to cook two different dishes, a dessert and a main course. Chef Jaehyun will be in charge of the main course dish while you will be in charge of the dessert.

“To spice things up, we have a couple of questions to answer while we shop.” You begin while you’re grabbing a bag of raspberries.

“You’re going to play the couple game!” One of the PR interns says from her script. Your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets. You don’t remember a couple game written in the script. From the surprised look on Chef Jaehyun’s face, you don’t think he remembers it either. “We will give you two options and the both of you will answer on the count of three. Think of it as a compatibility game!”

“C-Couple game? Compatibility game?” Chef Jaehyun chuckles sheepishly.

“First question! Fried chicken or pizza? One… two… three!”

“Chicken.” You both answer in unison.

“Wow, the compatibility is strong right off the bat.” The PR intern giggles. “Next question! Snow or rain? One… two… three!”

“Snow.” You both answer in unison again.

“Wow, this must be fate.” The PR intern swoons. “Third question! Ice cream or cake? One… two… three!”

“Ice cream.” Chef Jaehyun answers.

“Cake.” You answer.

“The last few questions will only get interesting from here. Next question!” The PR exclaims. “Fall in love with your childhood best friend or fall in love with a celebrity! One… two… three!”

“Fall in love with your childhood best friend.” You both answer.

“Interesting. Next question!” The PR continues to read off of her list of questions. “Choose the one who likes me or choose the one I like the most? One… two… three!”

“The one that I like the most.” You both answer. The PR intern grins as if her mission was accomplished successfully.

After all of your horrible encounters with Chef Jaehyun, this was one of the few times that you were actually on the same page as him. The only times that you felt like he was on your side was when he begged you to stay in the competition and when he was your partner for semi-finals. You were slowly starting to forget about cold-hearted Chef Jaehyun, the perfectionist that loved to nitpick every single detail of yours. This side of Chef Jaehyun… is a side that you want to see often.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with him.

“Last question before we let you finish grocery shopping,” the PR intern snaps you out of your thoughts. “What are your ideal types?”

“I like someone who is easy to talk to, someone that I can communicate with without feeling embarrassed. It’s nice to have someone who’s transparent.” Chef Jaehyun is the first to answer the question.

“How about you, Chef Y/N?”

You think about it for a moment. You hum to yourself before shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t think I have an ideal type.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because I think that no matter what you like in a certain person, when you actually fall in love with someone, that person could be completely different.” You explain.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Y/N.” Chef Jaehyun nudges you.

It’s an odd gesture, coming from him. You bite your lip, nudging him back.

“If there’s a hopeless romantic out of the two of us, it would be you, Chef Jaehyun.”

The PR intern chuckles.

“It would definitely be you, Chef Jaehyun, since you were born on Valentine’s Day!”

At the end of the shoot, you and Chef Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen before leaving the set. You’re busy washing the dishes and he’s busy putting the ingredients back into the cupboards and fridge. From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun leaning against the countertop, watching you. You almost drop the dishes into the sink, catching yourself right in time.

“How have you been?” You hear him ask.

You bite your lip. “I’ve been well, chef. You?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you again.”

You clear your throat, letting out a lighthearted chuckle. “I’m not sure how you want me to react to that, chef.”

“Did you… get them?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Get the…?”

“The flowers…?”

“Flowers…?” You place the dishes back into the hot bath before gasping. “Oh, right! The flowers! Yes, I got them. Thank you, Chef Jaehyun. You didn’t really need to.”

“I wanted to give you a gift since I heard that you’re planning on opening a diner,” he mumbles softly. Is he… blushing?

“It’s true.” You smile. “I’m going to make my mother’s dreams come true.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” He flashes you a smile. It’s a different smile. This time, you can feel the genuinity he’s expressing. It feels sincere. “Have you finalized a grand opening date?”

You turn off the faucet and wipe your hands with a towel. As you turn towards Chef Jaehyun, you don’t realize how close he’s been standing to you. You almost stumble back. Gulping nervously, you nod your head. “Sometime in July.”

“I’ll keep my schedules flexible in July, then. I’d love to join you for the grand opening.”

“Oh, you don’t need to, chef. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”

“If it’s for you, why not?”

The two of you stare at each other. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips. You lick them out of instinct, frozen with your feet glued to the floor. As you fake a cough, he regains his focus and is the first to pull away from you.

“Jaehyun? We have to get going for your next schedule.” His manager calls out to him.

The two of you glance at each other. He gives you a look you can’t seem to read. Jaehyun doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay with you. He wants to spend more time with you. He’s aching to get to know you more. There’s a sense of urgency and neediness.

“You should get going, chef.” You mumble shyly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to your next schedule.”

What Chef Jaehyun does next completely catches you off guard. He ruffles your hair before caressing your cheek with the same hand. With widened and surprised eyes, your heartbeat picks up its pace. He smiles. It feels warm. He feels warm.

“I won’t be able to see you for a while but Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N. You don’t know how happy I am to see you again.”

When Chef Jaehyun’s figure gets smaller and smaller, your heart feels tighter and tighter. You’re not sure how Chef Jaehyun feels about you. But what you’re sure of is that you no longer despise Chef Jaehyun.

You’re slowly falling in love with him.

[NEW] COOK UP HEARTWARMING VALENTINE’S DAY DISHES W/ CHEF JAEHYUN AND MASTERCHEF CHAMPION Y/N 1.2m views | 56k+ likes | two days ago

COMMENTS:

[pinned comment] Chef Jaehyun Official: Happy Valentine’s Day everyone~ #chefjaehyunxYN should we do another video together?

pastrychef_amy21: omg is it just me or does anyone feel like chef jaehyun has a crush on chef y/n?? doggolover312 replied: omg I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE THAT NOTICED. luminescencexx replied: the way he looks at her >> get you a man like chef jaehyun ugh he’s handsome AND he cooks??? perfect package kjhdskjfh

galaxiesandstarsxo: they act like an old married couple sobs i always found their bickering cute since masterchef doggolover312 replied: but doesn’t chef jaehyun have a gf? i swear he did galaxiesandstarsxo replied: i think they broke up a long time ago? they were supposed to get married apparently… but something happened. they even unfollowed each other on socials doggolover312 replied: omg if that’s the case… chef y/n you still have a chance!!

It’s your last day helping out at Doie and it feels bittersweet to be leaving. Here, you close a chapter to open another one. You’ve been helping out in the kitchen at Doie for months, right after you had won MasterChef. The time you were at Doie is something you’ll cherish. But you’re moving on to make bigger moves, making you and your mother’s dreams come true as one of them.

On your last day of work, Chef Taeyong decides to surprise you with a visit. You’re in the middle of cooking up a dish when he arrives and asks you if the two of you could have a chat. You both find yourselves sitting in the loft that’s been closed to customers for the season.

“How have you been?” He asks.

You smile. “I’ve been well, chef. I’ve been enjoying every single day.”

He chuckles. “I can definitely see that you’re enjoying every passing day. You’re a MasterChef, after all.”

You cut right to the chase. “Am I in trouble, chef?”

“No, not at all. Far from it, actually.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to talk to you about something… or should I say, about someone.”

“Who?”

He snorts. “Jaehyun, of course. Have you seen him recently?”

“Yes, chef. We filmed a video together for Valentine’s Day with one of his sponsors—”

“Now that makes sense!” He exclaims. He sighs with relief. “He’s been acting incredibly weird lately. In fact, he’s been acting weird for the longest time, since MasterChef, and it’s been driving me nuts.”

“Chef Jaehyun? Acting weirdly?” You ask confusedly.

“How do I put this?” He sighs. “He likes you, Y/N. You may not think he does and he may not think he does either, but I see it. It’s crystal clear. It’s as clear as day.”

You fold over, bursting out into laughter. It’s the reaction he expected from you. He got the same exact reaction from Jaehyun. Complete disbelief. Complete obliviousness.

“Oh no, chef. I don’t think he likes me—”

“He does, Y/N.” Chef Taeyong cuts you off. “Listen, before his flight to Florence, his ex-girlfriend dumped him because she was cheating on him. Ever since then, Jaehyun has been such a cold-hearted person and worked his ass off. But I always felt that there was something off about him.”

“He got dumped before flying out to Florence?” You purse your lips into a tight line. “Maybe that’s why he was such in a bad mood when I spilled wine all over his shirt—”

“You both met each other before MasterChef?” Chef Taeyong flips out, eyes rounding like saucers. “In Florence, too?!”

“Yes…?”

“Makes sense.” He squints his eyes. “He kept talking about this restaurant, specifically about this waitress who somehow became a culinary intern—”

“That was me—”

“—and how he kind of regretted being so cold and rude to her because he truly saw potential and thought that she needed a boost of confidence—”

“He saw potential in me even back then—”

“—wait, the girl he was talking about was you?!” His jaw drops.

You slowly nod your head. “I was the waitress who spilled wine all over his shirt. I was the culinary intern who messed up his dish. All those horrifying encounters with Chef Jaehyun had led me to think that he absolutely hated me. He was blunt and honest, which made my unconfident self to join MasterChef to prove him wrong.”

“And you did.” Chef Taeyong smiles before it turns into a grin. “But Y/N, you got it all wrong.”

“I got it all wrong? How?”

“Jaehyun never hated you. He never disliked you.” He confesses. “In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Jaehyun’s a weird guy, I know.”

“H-How? I don’t—I don’t understand.” You scratch the back of your neck, face filled with confusion.

“When he told me about a waitress spilling wine all over his shirt, he laughed and said it was like fate was telling him to wake up.” He chuckles. “When he told me about a culinary intern messing up his dish, he couldn’t help but regret being harsh to the intern and wanted to go back but he already had to fly back to Seoul.”

You’ve never really thought of how your encounters with Chef Jaehyun looked through his point of view. Now that Chef Taeyong was laying it all out for you, you were slowly realizing that your low self-esteem and confidence caused you to immediately conclude that he hated you.

“Huh—”

“When you auditioned for MasterChef, Jaehyun actually wanted to say yes. In fact, he was the first one to say yes, but the producers of the show told him to say no to add more drama for the viewers.” He continues. “For your team challenge, Jaehyun was the one who spotted Euntae sabotaging your cake.”

“It was him?” You whisper.

He nods his head. “When we were deciding who to eliminate after your team lost the challenge, Jaehyun was proactive in convincing us to keep you in the competition. You were close to being eliminated but Jaehyun kept telling us that you had potential.”

He saw potential in you. He was persistent in keeping you in the competition. In the end, Chef Jaehyun really cared.

“I—”

“The day after I found out that Jaehyun stopped you from voluntarily withdrawing from the competition, I was curious as to how he managed to make you stay.” He smiles. “But when I looked at him look at you, I had already gotten the answer.”

You fall silent. Chef Jaehyun did everything to make sure that you felt like you were fit to be a chef. But you were just closed minded and immediately shut him down. All of his actions translated into intentions out of hate. You wish you had known, perhaps you would’ve developed a great friendship with him. You’re surprised he’s still coming back into your life to try at being friends with you after being so rude to him.

“I’ve worked with Jaehyun for many years. I know him so well. I can read him like a book. When I saw how Jaehyun looked at you that day, I felt relieved because I’ve never seen him like that for so long.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “If my best friend decides to pursue you, just know that he has good intentions and that it’s a huge step for him, especially after a heart crushing breakup.”

“That is, if he really likes me.”

“Oh trust me, honey, he does.”

Chef Taeyong lets out a sigh. The two of you stand there, looking out at the blue skies that overlook the busy streets of Seoul. Your life may be busy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else. You’re living out your dreams.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, chef?”

“The reason why I dropped by was because I wanted to give you this.” He pulls out an envelope from a bag filled with many other identical envelopes.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Can I open it in front of you?”

He hums in reply. “Go ahead.”

As you open the envelope, you pull out a white card. It’s almost as if you could read his mind. As you slowly open the white card, you let out a gasp.

“You’re getting married?!”

THE GRAND OPENING.

It’s been a year since you won MasterChef. It’s also been a year since you started planning to start your own diner in memory of your mother. Mina’s Place. You decided to keep the name because it’s one of the few things that remind you of her. You even made sure the interior and exterior of the diner looked exactly how it did when the diner was still open. From the yellow seats and booths, the use of purple and lavender lighting to the gray tiled floors, you kept everything the same. The only difference is that the diner is located in a different area, right in the middle of busy Seoul.

Today is the grand opening of the diner and you’re expected to serve a large group of customers. PR and advertisement has been your best friend, but your appearance and your win at MasterChef drove the anticipation of the diner’s grand opening even further.

You arrive at the diner at six in the morning to prepare all of the ingredients. From the ingredients to the grapefruit and basil pie to the ingredients for your Korean brisket and kimchi burger, you had prepared them all on your own. It was only until eight that your co-chefs and waiters and waitresses had arrived to prepare for the grand opening. Around eleven-thirty, customers, Instagram influencers and foodies began to show up at the door, forming a long line around the strip.

“Chef Y/N?” One of the waitresses, Luna, pops her head through the door.

You’re crouching down, filling up the mini fridge with cartons of milk. You dust your hands off your apron and you slowly get up. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Someone’s here to see you,” she flashes you a warm smile.

You look at her confusedly. “Are we missing someone on the team? I don’t remember anyone telling me that they were going to drop by—”

“It’s Chef Jaehyun,” Luna bites her lip. She’s biting back a huge smile.

Your eyebrows raise. Confused, you continue to gather yourself. Chef Jaehyun? “S-Sure, you can let him in.”

Luna leaves the kitchen to go fetch Jaehyun and you finish placing all the cartons of milk into the mini fridge. Moments later, you hear footsteps entering the kitchen. You stand back up, bumping your head against the table and groaning in pain. Crouching back down over the floor, you hear footsteps begin to scurry closer to you.

“Oh! Are you okay, Y/N?”

Before your hand touches the sensitive area, you already feel a familiar hand gently rubbing it to soothe the pain. You freeze up in your position, gulping nervously. Suddenly, Chef Jaehyun’s face is right in front of yours. He has a look of concern. Looking back at him with slightly widened eyes, your mind is completely wiped out of thoughts. What is this feeling? You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never felt your heart beat so fast. You’ve never frozen up in front of someone. You’ve never lost your train of thought because of someone.

Seconds later, you clear your throat, pulling yourself away. You’ve finally come back to your senses. “Chef Jaehyun… I had no idea you were planning on dropping by—”

“I wanted to join you in the ribbon ceremony for the grand opening!” He exclaims.

He remembered? He knew it was today? You and Chef Jaehyun have never established some sort of friendship after the competition. You like to think that the both of you have achieved the status of being acquaintances, but definitely not the status of being friends.

“A-Ah,” you mumble softly. “Thanks, chef. You didn’t need to, I feel like it would be a bother and I’m sure you have other plans too—”

You’re not sure when things began to change. You’re not sure when the atmosphere began to shift between you and Chef Jaehyun. It’s almost as if you’re seeing a different person. He’s much brighter, nicer, happier. Why is it making your heart swell? What are his intentions?

“I wouldn’t miss the grand opening to Mina’s Place for anything else,” he says softly. “Hey, Y/N?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I got you a present to congratulate you on the grand opening of Mina’s Place.”

“A present?” You blurt out. “Oh, no, Chef Jaehyun, you didn’t need to—”

“I wanted to.” He cuts you off. “Let’s go?”

For a brief moment, you see his hand reach out to grab yours but he quickly pulls away upon realization. The two of you are not that close for such skinship. When he realizes it, he looks back up at you with panicked eyes. Was he really going to hold your hand? You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from his. Instead, you both walk out of the kitchen side by side.

Sitting on one of the light brown hardwood tables is a lavender box wrapped with a thin white ribbon. You glance at Jaehyun as if asking for permission, he gestures to you to go right ahead. Gently untying the ribbon, you take the lid off the box. A small gasp escapes your lips.

Sitting inside the box is an apron, but it’s not your regular apron. The apron looks just like the one in your old family pictures. Yellow with white straps. It’s simple and clean. It’ll show the stains of your hard work. It’ll feel like home.

But when you pull it out, there’s one little difference to the design. There, embroidered in white on the top left corner, reads the words “Mina’s Place.” It looks just like your mother’s handwriting, the original font of the brand, and it makes your eyes well up with tears. For a brief moment, when you hold up the apron, you could imagine your mother standing right before you with it on.

“Chef, I—” You’re having trouble forming the right words to say.

“So she’ll be with you, right above your heart, every step of the way,” Jaehyun pauses for a moment, “Chef.” He gives you a smile so fond, you are again struck with disbelief.

Hearing the word ‘chef’ come from Chef Jaehyun is something you want to hear over and over again. You want it to play through your head like a broken record. Chef Jaehyun has always been hard on you, but you knew that he was only hard on you because he only wanted the best. Chef Jaehyun is always hard on everyone and you failed to notice that. He truly wants the best for the people he works with and most importantly, the people he teaches. Maturing is realizing that you were ignorant of Chef Jaehyun’s true intentions and immediately thought negatively of him because of your past encounters with him.

“D-Do you mind saying that again?”

“I’m proud of how far you’ve come, Chef Y/N. This is only the beginning.”

After a long first day of opening, you and your team of chefs and waiters and waitresses see the last customer out. The grand opening has been such a dream to you. There was a long line that wrapped around the block. The diner was packed with many people. The line never truly saw its end until an hour before closing. When the last customer walks out of the diner after complimenting how delicious their food was, you feel your legs give out and you sigh with relief. Slowly getting back up onto your feet, you head to the back kitchen to congratulate your team.

“And we are officially closed until tomorrow morning!” You exclaim. That is, until you spot a celebratory cake sitting right in front of you on the countertop. Your team of chefs and waiters and waitresses have their phones on and recording your surprised face. “Oh you guys, you shouldn’t have!”

“Congratulations on your grand opening, chef!”

Your eyes scan the kitchen. There’s Luna, a good friend of yours from university who worked as a waitress at a hotel restaurant. She quit her job in a heartbeat after you had offered her to work front of house with a better pay. Standing right next to Luna is Minhyuck, who just graduated from culinary arts college and has been wanting to get into the kitchen as soon as possible. You saw your younger self in him, which is why you hired him on your team. Right next to Minhyuck is Yena, a rookie pastry chef that’s planning on entering MasterChef and figured working with a MasterChef champion would help her. Next to Yena are Wheein and Dohyun, who are line chefs and also your co-culinary interns in Florence. Lastly, there’s Mark and Donghyuck, two best friends and college students who were looking to get jobs as waiters.

“You guys are going to make me cry.” You pout your lips.

“To Mina’s Place!” Mark exclaims.

“To Mina’s Place!” Everyone else exclaims.

You smile, leaning in to blow out the candles. Everyone cheers. But slowly, everyone puts down their phones and stops recording video. You look at them confusedly as they begin to flash you encouraging and cheeky smiles and grins.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?” You ask.

“Well, would you look at the time, we should get going!” Dohyun looks down at his wristwatch, avoiding your question.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. My mom’s going to kill me!” Wheein is rushing to gather her things.

“Wheein is my carpool driver, so I should get going too.” Yena bites her lip.

One by one, everyone starts to leave the kitchen and the diner. When it’s just you, you slowly turn around to see Chef Jaehyun entering the kitchen. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck nervously. You tilt your head in confusion.

“Y-You’re still here, chef?” You question.

He nods his head. “I wanted to drop by and see your last customer out.”

“O-Oh, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He smiles. “I was wondering if you could…”

He falls silent, having trouble finding the right words to come out. You stand there, expectantly, waiting for him to finish. The first thing you notice is how red Chef Jaehyun’s ears are becoming. The second thing you notice is how he can’t seem to look directly into your eyes. The third thing you notice is that… Chef Jaehyun has become shy and nervous around you. Have the tables turned?

“If I could…?”

“If you could teach me how to make the grapefruit and basil pie.” He blurts out and it comes out as a jumble of words.

You bite back a smile. “Are you going to steal my recipe and start selling grapefruit and basil pie at your restaurant?”

“Of course not,” he panics. “I would never do that.”

“I’m not sure if I could trust you,” you fold your arms, continuing to tease him. “Jaehyun.”

“I won’t,” he says softly, finally finding the courage to look into your eyes. When it sinks in that you called him by his name, his gaze softens. You feel your heart swell. “I promise. That is, if you promise me one thing too.”

“Of course,” you smile. “What is it?”

“You’ll accompany me to Taeyong’s wedding.”

“I’d love to, in fact, I was invited as well—”

“As my date.” He finishes. You almost choke on your spit.

Is this really happening? Jaehyun looks incredibly nervous. You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling so wide. You slowly nod your head in response.

“I’d love to, Jaehyun.”

THE ‘REAL’ FIRST TIME.

When Jaehyun’s parents pick him up from elementary school, it’s pouring showers outside. But the only thing that lit up the gloomy streets of Seoul was Mina’s Place, a diner that he and his parents would frequent every Friday to reward their efforts for the past week. Both of Jaehyun’s parents are well-known professors at Yonsei University, specifically in the culinary arts program. Jaehyun’s father was a chef alongside famous chefs like Baek Jongwon and Lee Yeonbok. Jaehyun’s mother was a pastry chef who was known for her win at a famous pastry competition back in her days.

And Jaehyun… was a mini chef in the making.

On a gloomy Friday afternoon, Jaehyun and his parents sit in their usual corner of Mina’s Place. A woman seeming to be in her late thirties heads over to their table with a menu. She’s wearing an apron and a chef’s hat.

“Welcome to Mina’s Place, what can I get you started for today?” The woman asks, pulling out her notepad after gently placing the menus down onto the red table.

“Hi Mina, we’d love to have the usual!” Jaehyun’s father exclaims. “That grapefruit and basil pie has never left my mind since the last time we were here.”

“That’s such a relief to hear…” The woman, whom Jaehyun now knows is Mina herself, sighs with relief. She writes it down in the notepad along with his mother’s order. She clicks her pen before stuffing it into the pocket of her yellow apron. “I’ll have your orders ready in a bit. In the meantime, make yourselves at home!”

Jaehyun’s eyes wander around the diner. Although this diner was the place he and his parents would frequent, this diner was extra special for a reason. That reason being that his parents got engaged right in front of the diner while it was owned by different owners. During that time, the diner wasn’t Mina’s Place yet, it was a fast-food restaurant.

Jaehyun’s attention is disrupted when Mina comes back to their table with their orders. His eyes land on the little girl standing right beside her. She has such large innocent eyes. She looks curiously at him. She seems to be somewhere around his age. She’s sporting a mini apron that looks exactly like Mina’s.

“And who is this cute little girl?” He hears his mother ask Mina.

Mina places her hand on the little girl’s shoulder, bringing the little girl closer to her. She cuddles against Mina. “This is my daughter. Her name is Y/N.”

“How old is she?” His mother continues to ask questions out of curiosity.

“She’s ten.” Mina pinches her daughter’s cheek.

“Oh, she’s two years younger than Jaehyun!” His father joins in the conversation. “They could be friends!”

Jaehyun makes eye contact with the little girl. She looks up at her mother before looking at both of his parents. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she looks back at him and sticks out her tongue. He feels taken aback, eyes slightly widening.

“I think they would get along quite well!” Mina smiles. “Doesn’t little Jaehyun want to be a chef when he grows up?”

“He does,” his mother nods her head. “Does Y/N want to be a chef as well? Take after you?”

“She sure does! They could even go to culinary school together! Maybe go to a cooking competition or something!”

Friends? Jaehyun scoffs, sending a glare at the little girl. They have an intense staredown. To the adults, it looks like they’re staring at each other because they have crushes on each other. But in reality, Jaehyun’s having a staredown with the little girl because she provoked him. He pokes his tongue at her in return. Her eyes widen as if she did not expect him to put up a mini fight. They could even go to culinary school together? There’s no way that that’ll happen. Cooking competition? Absolutely no way.

“I think my little daughter here has a crush…”

“Jaehyun, sweetie, isn’t Y/N so pretty? You can’t seem to stop staring at her.”

THE REALIZATION OF (MANY) THINGS.

“That was you?!”

“I can’t believe that was you!”

Sitting by the water fountain, you and Jaehyun talk about your real first encounter with each other when you were kids. From the outside of the reception venue, you can hear the DJ playing a remix of cha cha slide and the guests chanting along. Taeyong’s wedding has been memorable. It was nice to see one of your mentors getting married to the love of his life. Not only that, but you’ve been having a great time with Jaehyun. Since it was getting quite stuffy inside the venue, you and Jaehyun decided to stroll around the garden outside to get some fresh air.

“You know, sometimes I think that we’ve always had fateful encounters.” Jaehyun begins. He’s aching to hold your hand. But he knows that he wants to take things slow and carefully. He’s so in love with you that he doesn’t want to mess this up.

“Fateful encounters? What makes you say that?” You ask.

“I came out of a horrible breakup before flying to Florence to run a restaurant with Taeyong. It was such a huge coincidence to have a beautiful woman spill expensive wine all over my shirt.” He chuckles.

You jokingly glare at him. “It was an accident.”

“I know, I know.” He waves it off. “It was an even more big of a coincidence to have the same beautiful woman serve me a dish at the same restaurant.”

“Makes sense.” You nod your head in agreement. “And then we met again at MasterChef but I was a contestant and you were the judge.”

“You know, when I heard that you were withdrawing from the competition, it was like my entire world was crashing down.” He says softly. “It was like I was reminded of all the times I’ve met you and how I couldn’t let you go. I had a feeling that there must’ve been a reason why I met you after getting dumped by my ex-girlfriend.”

“But you showed me that it’s worth working hard and that it’s worth chasing your dreams.” You smile. “I haven’t thank you yet for that but... thank you, Jaehyun. If it weren’t for you, I would probably fly back out to Florence and pick up another job as a waitress.”

“And yet, I would still look for you.” He confesses. “If somehow you stuck with your decision of withdrawing, I would’ve still looked for you, no matter how far the distance.”

“Really?” You whisper.

He smiles. “Yes. I mean, how could I forget the beautiful woman that spilled expensive wine all over my shirt?”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re really going to tease me for that for the rest of my life, huh?”

“Of course, if only you allow me to be with you for a long time.” He says and it slowly turns into a soft, shy mumble. “Agh, this is so hard!”

You quirk an eyebrow. He’s turning away from you, throwing a cute little fit. “What’s so hard?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something but I keep getting nervous because you look—” He stops himself. “You look so pretty and whenever I look at you, I lose my train of thought and all of the things I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“What is it that you need to tell me?”

“Our fateful encounters.” He begins to tell you, with his back facing you because he’s too nervous to look at you. “After MasterChef, I did everything I could to find you, to see you, to get to know you more. When Doyoung told me that you were going to be working at his restaurant for a while, I kept visiting in hopes to see you but you weren’t there.”

“You did?”

“Yes, which is why I gave you those flowers!” He exclaims. “And then when we were asked to shoot that Valentine’s Day video, I agreed to do it in a heartbeat when I found out that you were going to be joining the project.”

“Oh...”

“It used to be so easy to look for you because of all of our fateful encounters. But after MasterChef, it’s become a mission to find you. But now that I’ve finally found you again, I knew that I couldn’t let you go no matter what.”

“Jaehyun...” You trail off.

He sucks in a deep breath before slowly turning back around to face you. “Y/N, I hope you know what I’m trying to say, where I’m trying to get at with this... but...”

“But?” You have a feeling you know what he’s going to tell you, but you would rather wait for it to spill past his lips.

“I’m—” He begins before looking down at your feet. His eyebrows raise in shock and he lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you’re wearing them.”

You almost want to curse at your two feet for ruining the moment. You look down at your heels that you’ve chosen to wear to the wedding. It’s the pair of heels that Alessandro had given to you when you broke your heels after tripping over yourself and spilling wine all over Jaehyun.

“These heels? Yeah, I was given—”

“You’re wearing the heels that I gave you.” He cuts you off.

“You were the one who gave these?” You whisper.

His eyes meet yours and he chuckles, nodding his head. “Of course. When you got back up after tripping over, I noticed that your heels broke and so I stopped by one of the shops along the strip to get you a new pair. I think I dropped it off with Alessandro because I was running a bit late to—oof!”

“It was you. It’s always been you. This entire time.” You crush him with a hug. He’s caught off guard and sits there in shock for a brief moment before melting into your embrace.

He slowly pulls away and grabs your hands. “As I was saying...”

“As you were saying...” You continue.

“With all our fateful encounters... with those pair of heels... with all of the times I’ve crossed paths with you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in so long.” He continues. “Y/N, I’m so in love with you. I’m already so nervous telling you this right now, especially while holding your hands. I just wanted you to know that I have feelings for you and you could completely reject me, I understand—”

“I’m in love with you too, Jaehyun.”

“Really?” He whispers, still in shock. “You’re giving me a chance?”

“Only if you give me a chance.” You chuckle.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, Y/N.”

“You don’t know how much I want to make you happy, Jaehyun.”

WELCOME TO THE NEW SEASON OF MASTERCHEF.

“For today’s challenge, we will be recreating Y/N’s most famous dish!”

All of the contestants let out gasps when you step onto the stage to join the three chef judges. The judges for the new season of MasterChef remain the same; Chef Taeyong, Chef Jaehyun, and Chef Doyoung. After having them beg you to guest on the show, you decided to give it a shot.

“For today’s challenge, you will be recreating my famous dish of a deconstructed basil and grapefruit pie.” You smile. “To start this challenge, let us all gather around the front so that you could learn how to master your own deconstructed pie!”

You begin by making your way towards the demo station where you will be showing the contestants how to make your famous pie. Everyone joins in and gathers around you to get a glimpse of how to make your famous pie themselves. Standing on the stage a couple of metres behind you are the three judges, you watch you begin your demo.

Jaehyun folds his arms and lets out a happy sigh. Taeyong glances at him and quirks an eyebrow. “I wonder who that beautiful woman is cooking at the demo table over there.”

Taeyong snorts and rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun, that’s your girlfriend.”

Jaehyun chuckles, nodding his head. “Oh right... she is. That’s my girlfriend—actually, my fiance.”

“Your what? Since when? H-How—” Doyoung and Taeyong share shocked looks while Jaehyun digs into the pockets of his jeans to pull out an engagement ring. Your engagement ring, to be exact.

“Since last night.” He holds up your engagement ring in one hand and shows his engagement ring that he’s wearing on his other. “She doesn’t like cooking with her engagement ring so I’m just holding it for her.”

“Dude...” Taeyong clenches his chest.

Jaehyun snorts. “Dude...”

“Wow, I’m really the only one left that’s single, huh?” Doyoung sighs.

The two chefs comfort him by patting his back.

“She’ll come around soon, Doyoung. You just gotta be patient.”

“You never know, she’ll be a chef too!”

“Chef Jaehyun?”

The three of them shift their attention back to the contestants. You’re the one calling out to Jaehyun. He quirks an eyebrow. “Yes, Chef Y/N?”

“A couple of the ladies here are wondering if you’re single,” you chuckle.

Jaehyun shares a knowing look with you. “Well, I hate to disappoint but I just got engaged to the love of my life.”

They let out sad sighs and groans before everyone gets back to learning how to make your famous pie. Taeyong smirks.

“You’re breaking so many hearts right now, Jaehyun.”

💌 author’s note. she’s FINALLY here 😩 again, i apologize for keeping this off for such a long time. i’ve been super busy with school and just life in general. to everyone who’s been super understanding and patient, thank you so much. from the bottom of my heart, i sincerely thank you for waiting for such a long time. i also wanted to thank @sehunniepotwrites for hearing me voice out my frustrations and all of my excitement throughout writing this fic. nikki truly saw all of the emotions that i’ve experienced and gone through while writing chef!jae. i remember always wanting to write a chef!jae fic and bring chef!jae to life, but there was a lot of pressure and the feeling of doubt.. i felt like i had to do it justice and the fear of not writing it to the best of my ability (esp with me being a perfectionist), it was something that held me back from finishing this fic. but i managed to pull through and i realized that it doesn’t matter, what matters is that i enjoyed writing this fic and if that feeling of enjoyment can be felt through those who read it, that’s more than enough for me. but anyways before this gets longer, thank you so much for reading!

and as always, feedback and comments are always appreciated!

taglist (some of the tags didn’t work so if u didn’t get the notif, i’m sorry!): @anya-writes-stuff @swifterauhl @tyongblr @alwaysthefirstsight @doyoungsmovingcastle @pinkyzae @sunshinein17 @jaehyunnie77 @dreamycomets @seventeeneration @srutz @coupsiesluv @nctdom @moonchele @freshprunecowboyapricot @chimmybaek7 @forhaever @ten10vly @fluffyjaes @gyujaehyun @so-showme-ill-shownu @winniet @yipyipmorals

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