#at this point I’m not counting anything out
Text
not according to plan | hjs
summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his. what could possibly go wrong?
pairing: joshua x f.reader
genre: fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut
rating: explicit, minors DNI
word count: ~22.1k
notes/warnings: johnny suh as the ex-fiancee (sorry, he's not great in this), other idols born in '95 used as background characters, mentions of past cheating, food & alcohol, lots of "dates", reader is referenced as coming from a rich family, mention of being an escort (minus the sex?)
smut warnings: making out, multiple smut scenes (kind of, it could be a continuation), multiple orgasms, teasing, they're both v obsessed with each other's bodies, protected sex, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), scratching/marking, squirting, overstimulation, use of lube, i think that's it (but let me know if it's not)
author's note: this fic is dedicated to the lovely @shuadotcom, i'm so sorry it took me literal months to finish fake dating!joshua but here we are anyway. i'm not sure how this one got so away from me either lmao. banner credit to the beautiful @wongyuseokie who (again) did this very last minute. thank you to @wonwussy & @kwanisms for the mid-fic beta. thank you to @wooahaeproductions, @horanghater, @cheolism, & @hannieween for listening to me talk about this and helping with things like petnames & dates.
taglist at the end (& join my permanent taglist here)
“It’s fine, it’s been years and I’m over it. Plus, I’ve been seeing someone anyway and he’s great. So I wasn’t ignoring your invite,” you say without a second thought.
It’s just a stream of consciousness. The lie comes flying out of your mouth faster than your brain can process it. That’s exactly what it is, too. A lie. You’re not seeing anyone and haven’t been in a serious relationship since the person on the other end of the call broke your heart.
“Oh, wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to…well, I didn’t know. My mom didn’t say anything when she said she had spoken to your mom about whether or not you were coming to the wedding,” Johnny says with a little bit of ramble.
“You know how my mom can be, I haven’t had the chance to tell her yet,” you deflect.
“I’m happy for you, then,” Johnny says.
“Thanks, I’m happy for you, too,” you force out. Somehow, it doesn’t sound like the lie you know that it is.
“So, it’s not weird, then? I mean our moms are best friends, so the rest of your family is all going to be there. A lot of your friends will be there. I know you haven’t RSVP’d yet, but…” Johnny starts.
“Nope! Not weird at all,” you utter, hoping that your voice sounds even. “It’d be weirder if I wasn’t there, right?”
“Probably, yeah,” Johnny says. “That’s great, though. Do you want me to mark you down as a yes? I can even add a plus-one, if you want to bring your partner.”
“That’s so thoughtful, but I wouldn’t want to put you out. I know how expensive weddings can be,” you say and try to sound sincere.
“No, it’s no issue, actually. We have a few extra seats that we left just in case we forgot someone or didn’t know about someone’s partner,” Johnny presses. “So we’ll see you both there?”
“Yeah, you will,” you hurry out. This conversation needs to be over.
It’s only an hour after hanging up with your ex-fiancee that your mom calls to tell you she can’t believe she had to hear it from Mrs. Suh that you’re dating someone. Which includes a whole lot of deflecting and promises about when she can meet this mystery man. Another twenty minutes after you hang up with your mom, you get a pointed text from your younger sister. The two of you haven’t ever been all that close, so she shouldn’t be surprised that you haven’t mentioned him. She made her side pretty clear when she maintained her friendship with Johnny’s new fiancée. That new fiancee, a close friend of your sisters, also just so happened to be the girl he cheated on you with. So, she can hardly expect to have a close sister bond. Yet, she seems oddly suspicious that she didn’t know you were seeing someone seriously.
Your quiet Saturday afternoon turns into a full blown headache all thanks to one call from the asshole that you really thought you left in the past. Of course, now is the perfect time for him to pop back up. Now, when you’re even between any sort of casual sex. Now, when you don’t even have someone that you can call up to pretend to date you. This is going to be one of the worst calls that you have to make when you have to admit you made it all up, that you will absolutely not be showing your face at the wedding, and you will also be changing your name before moving away.
For now, you do the only thing that you can think of doing. You call the only person that can give you any perspective on this whole fucking disaster.
“Well hello,” your best friend answers.
“Jeonghan, I fucked up,” you say without preamble.
“This is gonna be good,” he responds.
“I just got off the phone with my mom,” you begin.
“What did she want?” he asks, knowing that it won’t be anything good.
“Well, you know, to talk about this new boyfriend of mine,” you continue.
“You haven’t dated anyone in forever,” Jeonghan chuckles.
“Thank you for that,” you snark. “And then, of course, I get a text from my perfect sister wondering why she’s also just hearing about this boyfriend of mine.”
“Why do your sister and your mom think you’re dating someone?” Jeonghan asks.
“Oh, well, you know. Johnny called today,” you offer.
“Fuck that guy,” Jeonghan interjects.
“He wanted to know why I hadn’t responded to his wedding invite and assumed it was awkward because I was single, so I told him I was seeing someone,” you finally finish.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jeonghan says into the silence and you can imagine his face.
“Right? My life is a fucking mess and now Johnny thinks that I’m bringing my boyfriend,” you groan.
“I’ll start planning the story for why you suddenly left town,” Jeonghan says.
“For real, my life is over,” you whine.
“What are you gonna do?” Jeonghan asks softly.
This is really why you called him. Jeonghan is a shithead, sometimes, and he can be a bit of a chaos demon. He also can be a bit of a schemer, especially when it comes to winning a game. But, he’s unfailingly kind and caring to the people he holds dear. He absolutely hates getting into any kind of real conflict with his friends. There’s that whole side to him that honestly wouldn’t hurt a fly and always has a way to comfort. That’s the side that you get now.
“I don’t know,” you answer, voice just as quiet. “I’m just…I don’t want to let him win, you know?”
And Jeonghan does know. You’ve been friends since before you started dating Johnny. Even though he never liked him, Jeonghan supported you in your relationship. When Johnny proposed, he called your other friends and set up the best engagement party anyone could ask for. From the outside, nobody would ever know that he hated your partner. Honestly, he’s the best friend anyone in the world could ask for.
Before he got around to setting up the bridal shower, which he’d been quietly planning for months, your whole world turned upside down. Johnny cheated, had been cheating awhile, actually, and Jeonghan was there to pick up the pieces. Somehow, he was the only one that seemed to make it better, probably because he didn’t want to act like things were okay when they weren’t. It was easy to cry in front of him, easy to be vulnerable, easy to just let the process play out so you could heal. Even though he never liked Johnny, he also didn’t say he told you so. This had never been something that crossed his mind.
“Okay, you’re gonna hate it, but I have an idea,” Jeonghan says.
“Those are never comforting words coming from you,” slips out of your mouth.
“Usually I’d yell at you, but…” he trails off.
“I swear, if you’re about to say that we pretend to be dating like some romcom, I will hang up the phone,” you warn.
“First of all, that’s rude, I’m a great boyfriend,” Jeonghan says.
“I never said you weren’t, Hannie, you know I think you’re gorgeous,” you sigh.
“That’s true, I am,” Jeonghan says through a laugh.
“But, I also know you remember what an unmitigated disaster it was when we fucked,” you point out, earning an even louder laugh.
“Wow, and here I thought that it was actually great sex,” he says.
“I’m not gonna keep stroking your ego, I already admitted you were gorgeous. I don’t need to praise the sex, too,” you declare.
“Stroking my…come on, you’re making it too easy,” Jeonghan points out.
“Funny, because I remember you being the easy one that night,” you say, finally managing to get a shot in.
“I hate you,” Jeonghan snorts.
“I know,” you answer. “Didn’t you say that you had an idea?”
Jeonghan clears his throat. “Right, yeah. Well, I know this guy and maybe he can help you out.”
“What is he, an escort?” you snort out.
“Do you want my help or not?” Jeonghan asks.
“Yoon Jeonghan, are you about to set me up with an escort?” you challenge.
“No, of course not, just trust me,” he says.
Just trust me might be the three most terrifying words that could come out of Jeonghan’s mouth, especially when you’re not usually on the receiving end of his schemes. It’s not like you have much choice, though. The wedding is in six weeks and you have to find a solution, fast. So, what choice do you have other than trusting your best friend? How could this go wrong?
You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into.
Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though.
Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.
It works.
When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks.
His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you.
In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated.
“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.
“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you.
“I feel like he hardly told me about you,” you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.
“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks.
“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out.
Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?”
“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?”
A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information.
In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)
Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.
To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting.
“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.
“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.
“I…what?” you sputter out.
“Well, sure, we need to work out a few details, but I’m game,” Joshua says with a shrug.
“I’m sorry, I think I’m just really confused?” You don’t even have food yet and this is already the most interesting date you’ve been on, possibly ever.
“I, uh, may have left a part of my past out when I was sharing what Jeonghan knew about me,” Joshua says. “And honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t catch it or that he did this. I’d be mad if I wasn’t so impressed by how crafty it was.”
“I’m going to need you to connect some dots for me,” you admit. “Oh and also never tell Jeonghan you appreciate him being crafty. His ego is too big as it is.”
“The first time Jeonghan and I hung out, we went out for drinks, got a little wasted, and I told him about how I got through my university studies without any debts,” Joshua says, pausing long enough for someone to set the appetizer down. “He’s observant, Jeonghan, I’ll give him that. He noticed I had designer clothes, shoes, that kind of thing. And he noticed I didn’t pay attention to the prices of the drinks. So I made a vague comment about being lucky to have found a way through my studies without taking out loans.”
“I’m sure he asked you about that, he loves it when he thinks there’s a scheme,” you note with a smile.
“You’re right about that,” Joshua agrees. “So I, well I told him. When I was in school, I met this woman out one night and she paid me to go to events with her. She wanted, and these were her words, ‘someone young and hot’ with her. And the next four years, that’s what I did. I let people pay for me to go to events with them. Never more than that. I was clear that I wasn’t selling sex or anything, just company.”
You lean back in your seat with an appraising look. “An entrepreneur from the beginning.”
“Hey, no judgment,” Joshua says. All you can do is smile.
“I’m not judging, that was really smart and you’re obviously attractive enough for it,” you acknowledge.
“Thank you,” Joshua says. It doesn’t have the air of cockiness Jeonghan’s answer would. He actually seems sincere in accepting the compliment.
“But, I’m still not going to pay you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, even if it’s a bit reluctant.
“I wasn’t asking you to,” Joshua shrugs. “You don’t have to pay me.”
“Why would you offer to pretend to do something like this? You don’t even know me,” you point out.
“No, I don’t. But, you seem like a good person. And I like Jeonghan, he’s nice…” Joshua says, stopping when you try to cover a scoff.
“Nice?” you question when you’re caught.
“Wrong word choice,” Joshua dismisses. “He seems like the kind of person that’s a loyal friend, like he would go into battle to protect you. Like someone you can actually trust.”
“He is all of those things, yeah,” you admit.
“And if those things are true, then him holding you out as his best friend means you’re probably all of those things too,” Joshua reasons.
“I try to be,” you agree.
“Plus, Jeonghan did mention you had seriously dated someone that was pretty rich, so I figure it’s probably the guy getting married and it’ll be a nice wedding,” Joshua says with a smile. The joke is obvious by the look in his eyes.
“It’s interesting that he mentioned Johnny, that’s my ex, being rich,” you idly comment.
“Is he not?” Joshua wonders.
“Jeonghan is a lot of things, but he’d never lie to his friends,” you answer first. “So, yeah, he is. Well, his family is at least. His mom and mine run a lot of events together, like galas and shit. That’s how we all know each other.”
“Are you rich, too?” Joshua wonders. There’s that little twinkle of something in his eyes again, but there’s also sincerity.
“I’m still not paying you,” you retort.
“Fine,” Joshua agrees.
You roll your eyes. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
There’s a weird world’s colliding feeling to having both Jeonghan and Joshua in your apartment. But, Jeonghan doesn’t like to be left out of things. Once you told him that you and Joshua both knew about his scheming, he offered to help in any way he could. Which is likely just so he’s included. You’ll take what you can get. Now, it means that he and Joshua are sitting on your couch, scrolling through pictures on Joshua’s phone to decide what to include in an instagram post. That’s the first step you and Joshua agreed on. If you’re going to sell this whole fake relationship, then your sister actually is right. There has to be some sort of proof of it online. Which also means that your post has to talk about how you’ve been keeping it quiet and just enjoying getting to know each other without any pressure. Jeonghan takes credit for that, even if you got there on your own.
“I think I like this one,” Jeonghan says and turns the phone around to show you.
“Why that one?” you ask.
“Why not? Don’t you like it?” Joshua worries.
“I don’t know, I feel like my hand is doing something weird,” you point out.
“You look great,” Joshua assures you.
“Oh, ew, you’re not really dating,” Jeonghan complains.
“You do know you’re going to have to stop saying that, right?” you ask.
“Maybe I didn’t know either,” Jeonghan shrugs.
“No, I’m with her, you’re her best friend and you definitely would’ve known,” Joshua agrees.
“Why are you on her side already?” Jeonghan whines.
“Because she’s cool and she’s not the one who knew what I did in college and set me up,” Joshua says with a laugh.
This is how it’s been going for the last hour. You’re not really much for putting a lot of effort into your posts, so this all feels like too much. But, you know that it’s important for it to feel real and it’s important to get it right. You’re honestly pretty happy to just let the guys take the lead and go with the flow of it all. There are going to be plenty of opportunities for you to take the lead. You’re going to take your breaks where you can.
(That had also meant not putting up too much of a fight when Jeonghan told you to bring multiple outfits with you. Or when you had to change your hairstyle and makeup between the photos so it looked like they hadn’t all been taken the same day. Honestly, this was so much easier for Joshua. Then again, he’s the one doing you a favor. So maybe you can let him have it.)
After you finally get your couple pictures posted, and get a flurry of messages ranging from surprise to congratulations, you move onto preparing Joshua to meet your parents, your sister, and her husband. Jeonghan is actually a lot of help with that because he’s been around them a lot. Well, he’s helpful after he tries to scare Joshua about how intimidating it’s going to be only to give up when Joshua is unbothered. He’s so calm about everything that it’s actually kind of nice to be around. And he has no problem firing back at Jeonghan, which is really fun to watch.
You go through what your parents are like, what they do both for work and as hobbies. Joshua perks up at the mention of your dad loving music and sometimes spending his weekends just exploring new venues. It seems like there might be more to that, though you don’t press when he waves it off. It’s different when you talk about your sister, two years younger and already married. Not that you’re dying to be married or even care that she got married before you. That’s always seemed like a weird societal expectation, anyway. What does it matter when anyone gets married? If it’s their right person, then it makes sense. You being upset over your failed engagement really doesn’t have anything to do with your sister’s marriage, despite her instance it does.
It becomes obvious that you’re losing Jeonghan’s attention when you turn down his request to start playing games or watch a movie. It’s not that you don’t want to do those things, it’s just that you have a lot to cover in far less time than you realized. Sure, the wedding is still weeks away. What’s not weeks away is your first dinner with your family. That’s going to be around the corner. The least you could do, you figured, was plan a time before posting pictures on instagram. So, Jeonghan asks if it’s okay to leave and you almost sigh in relief. This will be easier without an extra person.
“Not to pry, but what’s the deal with you and Jeonghan?” Joshua asks when you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine.
“What do you mean?” you ask.
“I don’t know, I feel like I was picking up on something,” Joshua shrugs.
“We’re really just friends,” you assure him.
“Sometimes those are the best…” Joshua starts.
“Don’t,” you cut off. He worries for a second before he realizes you’re smiling. “We did try. Not so much a try, I guess, but we slept together maybe 6 months after Johnny and I broke it off and it just wasn’t it.”
“You and him slept together?” Joshua questions.
“Is that weird for you?” you ask.
“No, it’s just interesting that you’re still so close,” Joshua observes.
“I guess,” you say with a shrug. “He’s great, obviously attractive, but we just, I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything. Neither did he. So, staying friends seemed like the right choice.”
“Interesting,” is all Joshua says. “Have you dated anyone seriously since Johnny?”
“Not that seriously, no,” you admit. “I’ve gone on dates with different people and some of them stuck around for a bit, but nothing serious.”
“Not finding the right people?” Joshua presses.
“I just haven’t found anyone that made me feel like Johnny did at the beginning or even like I did when he proposed,” you say.
“I can understand that, even if I don’t really get it. You’re gorgeous, anyone would be lucky,” he says smoothly. You cover a blush with a slight eye roll.
“I guess that’s why most of my close friends will also believe that I kept a new relationship on the low. They saw me post-Johnny and have seen me try to date,” you share.
“Yeah that’s good for us, at least,” Joshua agrees.
“What about you, though? When was your last relationship?” you ask.
“Ah, well it’s been a little over a year,” Joshua says.
“Bad ending?” you wonder. You’re not sure why you press him on it.
“It wasn’t great,” Joshua says with a chuckle. “She, uh, well she decided that she just really would rather be with one of my friends than with me.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” you say, suddenly sorry.
“No, no, it’s fine,” he says. “She didn’t actually cheat on me, but she had started getting close to him and sharing everything with him.”
“Arguably worse, in my opinion. Emotional cheating is still a thing,” you say, trying to offer comfort.
“Thank you,” Joshua says. His eyes are soft and full of care. “And, like you, I have dated since then, just nothing worth talking about.”
It’s an easy transition from that into talking about your backgrounds. Like speed dating, except somehow more intense. You learn Joshua’s birthday, his parents names, that he’s an only child, and where he grew up. Nothing is too small and you joke about taking notes before you actually go to get a notebook. Joshua tells you his favorite color and his favorite food, tells you about his favorite memories, favorite places where he grew up, and favorite places he’s found since moving here. There’s a way that his face lights up when he talks about his friends that’s drawing you in. You tell him the same. That all feels a little surface level, which you point out. If this is going to work, it has to be deeper, more serious.
That’s when something seems to almost break down. Joshua suggests that you tell each other the deep stuff, the things that you don’t always admit to someone you’re dating. Or, maybe you admit it and don’t get into the reasons why. When Joshua goes first and admits that he’s happiest when he’s playing his guitar, even if nobody else is listening, his whole face changes. It’s like a completely different version of him. He’s got an open face as it is, that hasn’t changed, but you realize maybe he’s a little guarded behind the smile as well. Maybe there really is more depth than he wants anyone to realize. Maybe this is going to be more interesting than you thought.
“Can I hear you play?” you ask. His face is adorable with his eyes full of surprise.
“You want to hear me play?” There’s an emotion you can’t place when he looks at you.
“I love music, too, Joshua,” you say softly. “I’d love to see what you’re passionate about.”
“Oh, well, I usually play at this acoustic night on Thursdays at a coffee shop downtown,” Joshua tells you.
“You do? That’s so cute!” you say before second guessing it. He looks away like he’s a little embarrassed and you worry for a split second.
“I’d love it if you came by,” he says.
“It’s a shame that we can’t say that’s where we met,” you admit.
“Wait, that would be a good idea, actually,” Joshua says and you smile.
“It would be, but I also know events like that. It’s always a similar crowd so I’m sure someone will know that I’ve never been,” you reason.
“Fair point,” Joshua concedes.
“Why don’t we just say we met on a dating app?” you suggest and Joshua pulls up his face. “Okay, I know apps are lame and honestly, I don’t use them much. But, think about it. That’s the perfect reason why we didn’t bring it up until now, we didn’t want to answer the ‘where did you meet’ question by saying an app.”
“Okay, yeah, I do actually like that because it’s easy and it doesn’t feel like a wild story,” Joshua says.
“What about your parents?” you ask. “Do we need to make plans to meet them if you’re also posting about me?”
“We can figure that out, but they live pretty far away so it would probably just be over FaceTime or something,” he says.
“I also understand if you don’t want to do that because we’re just pretending,” you suggest.
“No, it’d be cool to have you meet them. Even if the relationship isn’t real, I’d like to be friends for real, so that’s not a total lie,” Joshua reasons.
“I’d like to be friends too,” you agree. “How long have you been living here, now?”
“Oh, um, like 8 months?” Joshua says like a question.
“I was figuring like a month or two with the way Jeonghan talks about you,” you laugh.
“You’ve been friends with him for years, you’re not actually surprised,” Joshua points out.
“Okay so now I guess we have to figure out when we started dating,” you comment.
“And everything else, but we can do it,” Joshua says.
You’re a little nervous sitting on your couch waiting for Joshua to show up. Even though you offered to pick him up for dinner with your family tonight, he insisted on being the one to drive. Of course he’s right on time, which you’re already realizing is a trait of his. He’s even a gentleman when he opens the door for you, just like he pulled the chair out the first time you met for the date-not-date. As you put your seatbelt on, you notice that there are a few things in the backseat.
“What’s all that?” you ask as he slides into the driver’s seat.
“Flowers for your mom, a bottle of scotch for your dad, and a cheese board for your sister because you said they just moved and she likes to host,” Joshua lists off as if it’s nothing.
“You did not have to get things for all of them,” you point out.
“Of course I did, but I also wanted to. I’m trying to make a good impression,” he says, making your heart a little light.
“That’s so kind,” you whisper out.
“Oh, I thought of something else,” Joshua shifts. You’re worried you made him uncomfortable until he speaks again. “Are you a pet name person in relationships?”
That makes you snort, something that would embarrass you in any other situation. It’s not the first time he’s heard it, though. “That depends on what you want to call me.”
“That’s a dangerous way to say that,” Joshua answers. His eyes are still on the road, yet you don’t miss the way he reacts.
“I don’t like overly cutesy names,” you say to diffuse a little bit of the moment. “Like, I don’t know, if you want to call me sugarplum or honeybunch or something like that, please don’t.”
“You’re just giving me ideas to take away my fun,” he pouts.
“Well, what were you thinking of calling me? Or are you even a pet name person?” you ask.
“I do like them,” Joshua says. “I’m not sure that I have a go-to or anything. For you, I might say angel or possibly darling.”
“I think I prefer angel, if I’m allowed to pick,” you say after a moment.
“Of course,” Joshua replies. Studying his face, you’re looking for a hint of mocking or insincerity, but there’s nothing to find. This is just him.
“Do you want me to use a pet name for you?” you wonder.
“I’d happily take one, no pressure, though,” he says.
“I’ll have to think about it,” you tell him. “Something generic like babe doesn’t feel right.”
“Are you saying I’m special?” Now you can hear the light teasing in his voice.
“I take it back, any more compliments are going to go to your head,” you huff out.
As you get closer to your parents’ house, you start to bounce your knee with an excess of nervous energy. It’s not until Joshua reaches a hand out to take one of yours that you’re even sure you’re doing it. There’s something calming about it, though. Nothing about him reaching out feels like he’s trying to stop you, just show that you’re not alone in this. Which is more than welcome. The last person you brought to meet your parents was Johnny. Given how that ended and why Joshua is around in the first place, it’s not exactly the most comforting thought.
Once you pull up to their house, you take a deep breath. It’s only to settle your rising nerves, but it also serves to give Joshua enough time to come and open your door. Even though you’ve told him that he doesn’t need to be this sweet, he insists. Without saying a word, he holds out a hand to help you out of the car. Instead of dropping your hand once you’re out, he uses it to pull you into him and wraps his arms around you. There’s this immediate sense of comfort, like you have actually been dating for months. You inhale his cologne without meaning to, something warm and woodsy.
“It’s going to be fine, parents love me,” he assures you when you pull away.
“I don’t doubt that,” you say, releasing the breath you were holding and your tension with it.
“So come on, my little granola wrapper, let’s go,” Joshua says as he lets you go to get the gifts out of his backseat.
It takes you a full few seconds to register what came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”
“Is that not the one?” he asks, eyes alight with some kind of mischief.
“I’m not going to encourage this,” you huff.
“Whatever you say, jellybean,” he throws out casually.
The second you step into the house, you see exactly what Joshua means. Your mother is fawning over him in a matter of seconds, your father is making plans to show him his records, your sister’s husband is asking when they can go out for drinks, and your sister even holds back the snark. All during the course of the pre-dinner drinks and largely, you think, due to the gifts that Joshua brought. He had a reason for the meaning behind the type of flowers for your mother, a favorite musician who swore by the scotch for your dad, and even bought the cheese board from a small business that customized things.
Dinner comes along and you still feel like you’ve barely said anything with Joshua masterfully steering the conversation. He even makes it sound good that you met on an app, with his improvised story of wanting to meet people in a new city. According to him, he wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you and was done for the second he saw you sitting at dinner. It’s something real, that you met him for dinner the first time at a fancy downtown restaurant. And you realize you never actually asked what his impression was that first night. More than once, you catch yourself watching his profile as he talks to one of your family members. Everything about him is at ease and you wonder if it really is all fake. Not that you think anything about him is disingenuous, he’s just really good at making people like him.
The only hiccup doesn’t come until your mother is pulling out dessert. According to your sister, she’s got an excellent pie in the refrigerator that you simply have to try. You’re about to say something when Joshua beats you to it.
“I don’t think my little sugarplum likes fruit pies, but it sounds amazing and I’d love a piece,” Joshua interjects smoothly.
Your sister nearly spits out her drink, whether it’s at the nickname or him speaking up for you, you’re not sure. In any other situation, you would scold him for the name, but you’re a little stunned he remembers you don’t like pie. It came up once in a rapid fire of likes and dislikes.
“You’re right, she doesn’t,” your sister agrees. “I’d almost forgotten.”
(That’s when you’re sure it was another of your sister’s tests. Trying to catch you in some kind of lie about your relationship. But, it doesn’t work and you feel a little victorious for that.)
The doorbell rings through the house and you look to your mother, silently asking if she’s expecting someone. It’s unusual for them to have company calling this late on a Friday night. It’s usually reserved for dinners with friends or family or galas. Unsurprisingly, your mother doesn’t seem to know who it could be, but disappears to answer the door all the same. When a voice drifts through from the hallway, you freeze on the spot.
“I really just came by to drop that off for my mom, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’d hate to intrude on dessert,” the guest says.
“Nonsense, you’re not interrupting,” your mother insists.
“I saw an unfamiliar car, so I figured you might have guests,” he says as they come through the doorway into the living area.
Your heart stutters a little in your chest, feels heavier for seeing him. Somehow he looks taller and broader than the last time you saw him. He’s wearing his hair shorter and he looks more mature, somehow, like he’s seen so much more of the world than when you were together. Which is probably true, if you think about it. It’s been a couple years and that means he’s had more time working with his father.
“That would be my car,” Joshua says, getting to his feet immediately and extending his hand. “I’m Joshua.”
“Johnny,” he answers and shakes Joshua’s hand. Yet, his face looks a little tense and his eyes mostly stay on you.
“It’s just family,” your mother shares, though Johnny can obviously see that himself, “since our darling daughter finally brought Joshua around to meet us.”
“I’m glad she did, dinner was wonderful and the company was even better,” Joshua says with a smile at your mother. She nearly blushes at his compliment.
“Oh, hush,” your mother says with a wave of her hand. “I was just getting some pie if you’d like to stay for a piece, Johnny. Although, I’d hate to keep you from home.”
Joshua sits back down next to you, a little closer than is strictly necessary, and puts his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You feel safe pressed up against his side like that. Johnny clears his throat when he looks away from the pair of you. “Gabby has been out of town all week, actually, so I’m going back to an empty home anyway. I’d love to stay for a piece of your famous cherry pie.”
“Great!” your mother says and disappears off into the kitchen.
“What’s got Gabby away?” your sister asks.
“Just a conference,” Johnny answers. “There was a final banquet tonight and she’ll be home tomorrow.”
“She’s busy, away this week, bachelorette next weekend,” she says offhand.
“Keeping tabs on when everything is?” you ask of your sister. She looks at you like you’re crazy and Johnny looks awkward.
“No, I was invited to it,” your sister answers evenly.
Before you can even answer, Joshua is speaking up. Probably sensing your discomfort. After all, you hadn’t gotten to tell him that Johnny’s fiance is friends with your younger sister. They had gone to school together and been close. Stealing her sister’s fiancée doesn’t seem to have impacted the friendship.
“You must be excited with the big day getting so close,” Joshua says. He moves his arm from behind you so that he can take your hand on your thigh. It makes you look down at your hands before glancing at him, only to find his gaze on you already. It also means you miss the way Johnny follows the movement.
“Uh, yeah, I mean, I’m definitely excited. It’s just been a lot of planning,” Johnny says.
“I bet,” Joshua says. “Thank you so much for inviting me, I know how stressful changes can be.”
“It’s no problem, I’m happy you’ll both be there,” Johnny says.
With almost a practiced subtlety, Joshua squeezes your hand. There’s so much in that one movement. A reassurance, a reminder to breathe, a reminder that he’s there, a promise that everything is going to be okay. Your heart hurts seeing Johnny sitting in the living room so casually as if nothing happened, but it doesn’t hurt as much as you expected. Maybe that has something to do with this impossibly kind, completely idiotic person next to you. You also can’t help the way your gaze lands on him. Just in profile, at first, before he senses your look and turns to you with a dazzling smile. It’s like there’s nobody else in the world but the two of you.
The conversation shifts slightly when your mother comes back in with a tray full of pie slices and your father comes back with whatever record he was looking for to show Joshua. Just like that, you survive your first in-person interaction with Johnny. Actually come out of it feeling like you might be able to handle this. The smile you send Joshua while he’s eating his pie is so fond that you’re not even sure who you are.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night,” Jeonghan says in lieu of a hello.
“Hello to you too, I’m good, thanks for asking,” you retort.
“Greetings are for people who remember their best friends, not for people who send a single sentence recap after bringing their fake boyfriend home to meet the family,” Jeonghan states immediately.
“That’s a very long rule,” you note.
“Deserved, though,” Jeonghan says.
“I was tired, Han, it was a long night,” you explain.
“A long night where your ex showed up,” he reminds you.
“That actually wasn’t so bad,” you admit. “Joshua made it feel pretty easy.”
“Oh did he now?”
You don’t have to be in the same room as Jeonghan to hear the expression on his face when he says that. “It was just easy, Jeonghan, nothing more than that.”
“What did your parents think?” he asks, switching gears.
“They loved him, like actually loved him. My mom was enamored and kept calling him handsome. My dad was talking about music with him and making plans to go check out some acoustic music venue. Even the ice queen couldn’t find anything to fault him for,” you share.
“She’s less of an ice queen and more of a mean girl and a bitch,” Jeonghan adds.
“You said it,” you mumble.
“I mean, come on, who thinks it’s okay for their friend to sleep with their sister’s fiancé? And then stays friends with the girl?” Jeonghan gets really defensive with this. He would ride for you to the ends of the world, which you do love. Just not today.
“I don’t wanna relive that whole thing, it’s done and over. Nothing to do now,” you say, weariness seeping into your voice.
“Would you want to do anything about it?” Jeonghan asks.
“What do you mean?” You answer the question with a question.
“Like would you want to go back to when you were with Johnny?” Jeonghan asks.
You think about it for half a second. “No.”
“That was fast,” Jeonghan comments.
“What’s there to go back to? He made his choice and I’m fine, honestly. It was weird seeing him and hearing him talk about his wedding, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” you say.
“Is that because of your Prince Charming?” Your best friend, always doing the most, puts this question into a sing-song voice.
“He’s not a Prince Charming. You’re so annoying,” you scoff.
“I don’t know, he sure seems to be saving you,” Jeonghan presses.
“I can’t with…” you start, trailing off at the knock on your door.
“Who’s there?” Jeonghan asks.
“No clue,” you answer, getting off your couch to go see.
“I bet it’s Prince Charming,” Jeonghan laughs out.
“Would you fuck…” you begin as you open the door to find the very subject of your conversation on the other side, “off.”
“I’m right aren’t I?” Jeonghan is nearly shrieking with glee.
“Sorry, gotta go,” you say.
“Oh no, no, no,” Jeonghan tries.
You’re stepping aside to let Joshua into your apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow for brunch.”
“Let me know if I need to add one more to the reservation,” Jeonghan says.
“Goodbye,” you say with an eye roll Jeonghan can’t see, but will surely hear. You hang up as soon as he also says goodbye.
“Jeonghan?” Joshua guesses.
“Unfortunately,” you confirm.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting,” Joshua says. It’s nothing like when someone says it out of forced courtesy. He actually seems like he’s making sure he’s not intruding.
“No, not at all, I just wasn’t expecting you,” you admit.
“Sometimes that’s the best time to come over,” Joshua says with a shrug.
“Does that mean you have a plan?” you wonder.
“Yup,” Joshua says.
“Gonna tell me what it is?” you ask.
“Nope,” he says with a concerning smile, popping the end of nope. “Go put on something comfortable but with layers. And we’re not going hiking or anything like that.”
An hour later, you’re pulling off the road in an area you’ve never been to, even with as long as you’ve lived here. The views are instantly enough to take your breath away. You can see the whole city below you, all the bustle of traffic and skyscrapers. Somewhere, you know there are people rushing to and fro, too busy to stop and appreciate what’s around them. Straight ahead, you can see the way the low clouds glide around, splitting around the very tops of the buildings. It’s beautiful and it also makes you realize just how small you are.
While you’ve been appreciating the views in front of you, Joshua has been gathering his supplies from the trunk. By the time you turn around, he’s laying a blanket and basket down on the ground in front of the car.
“Is this…did you set up a picnic?” you ask.
“I wanted to show you this place and figured some food might be nice,” he says with an easy smile.
“That’s so sweet,” you say earnestly.
You settle on the blanket next to him and look through the food he’s pulling out. There are some of your favorite things and some things you’re not even sure you’ve seen before. Somehow, though, you feel like they might become some of your new favorites. He even brought plates and he sets about putting one together for you to pick at.
Joshua tells you about how this is his favorite place and he found it completely by accident. He loves being down in the city and around all the people, but there’s something nice about seeing things from this perspective too. It’s like he can just disconnect for a while. Turn off his phone. Read or listen to music. Just be totally alone. It’s how he works through a problem or gets the perspective he needs.
“I can’t believe you’re sharing it with me,” you admit and his eyes light up with his smile.
“I just thought, after last night, you might appreciate having a place to get away from it all,” Joshua says.
You want to say something, anything, really, to acknowledge what Joshua just said. Try to say something. Your throat doesn’t want to cooperate, it seems. Your brain, either. In fact, all you can manage to do is turn away to hide the tears. Joshua is observant, though. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his chest and runs his hand along your back. He quietly soothes you as you cry out a lot of emotions you didn’t even realize you were experiencing.
And something about him comforting you, this near stranger who doesn’t actually owe you anything, sets you off more. In the early days of your relationship with Johnny, you know it was good. It must have been. Surely, it was more than a relationship between two people who had known each other for years with families that were intertwined. You don’t remember it anymore. Don’t remember him ever holding you like this without even knowing what was wrong. Don’t remember him taking you on a date like this just because he thought you would enjoy it. Since you haven’t seriously dated anyone since the break-up, he also feels like your only frame of reference. That makes you sad for an entirely different reason. Who loses it over someone just being a little kind?
“I’m so sorry,” you finally say when you manage to pull yourself together.
“For what?” he asks.
“For just crying like that and being such a mess,” you say.
Joshua shakes his head. Moves his hand up to your face and waits for confirmation that it’s okay. When you nod, he gently wipes the tears from under your eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. What you’re going through with your ex, most of us could never even imagine that kind of pain.”
“But still, you barely know me and here you are trying to be kind and all I can do is cry,” you say.
“First of all, I think last night and the food I put together show I’ve actually learned a lot about you in a short time,” he says and you have to laugh at that. He’s right. “Second, I’m just happy you feel safe enough with me to cry. It’s not healthy to hold all that in. You’re not in this alone.”
That brings you up short more than anything. He’s right, again (an annoying habit, if you’re being honest). You don’t feel any hesitation around him. Nothing to stop you from crying if you feel like crying. That’s unusual, to say the least. Normally, you’ll do anything to avoid anyone seeing you emotional. But, this man you just met is different. He’s safe. You’re not sure how or why, but you know you can trust him.
“Are you free tomorrow for brunch?” you ask. Joshua gives you a quizzical look for a moment at the sudden topic change.
“Yeah, why?” he asks.
“I just need to send one quick text and then I want to do what you said you normally do here. Disconnect from the world and just appreciate the afternoon,” you say and find yourself smiling along with his smile. He really is so beautiful.
You: add one to the reservation for brunch tomorrow and i’ll call you tonight when i’m home
You switch your phone into Do Not Disturb before the response comes and turn all your attention back to Joshua.
Over the next couple weeks, Joshua slips seamlessly into your life and your existing friendships. Some of them, like those closest to you that come along to the Sunday brunches, know the whole story. It’s not like they would believe you had kept a relationship secret for that long, anyway. And it’s good to have a few extra sets of eyes and ears helping to sell the story. Other friends get the same story that your family and Johnny got. It’s not that you don’t trust them, you do. It’s more important to keep the circle of people who know the real story as small as possible, though, so that it actually succeeds. All your friends adore him from the second they meet him. The only surprise is how well Jeonghan seems to be adjusting to sharing your time. He wants to give you a hard time, yet he doesn’t.
You meet all Joshua’s friends and coworkers, too. It feels way easier than it should the first time you join him and his coworkers after work for drinks. They spend most of the time giving Joshua a hard time that he’s kept you to himself for so long. It’s easy to fall into step and you find that you do know him a lot better than you think. So, it’s just as easy for you to jump in when they’re giving him a hard time. He pretends to be annoyed, but you can tell by the way he smiles that he likes it. It’s one of those genuine smiles that makes his eyes bigger and brighter. Everything just feels…easy. Like this whole thing wasn’t actually a bad idea after all.
Your favorite part might be the first time you got with him to an Open Mic Night and get to see him play. He’s got that easy kind of confidence on the guitar. Like he knows he’s talented, but not in a cocky way. It’s his singing that catches you off guard. His voice moves over the notes with an ease that makes you wonder why this isn’t something he’s doing for a living. He’s got this way of pulling you into songs that you don’t even know. And he’s so kind with the people that show up just to see him play. They all seem just as happy to meet you and know that he’s happy.
There’s only been one part that’s been difficult. Not difficult, exactly, but not as comfortable as some of the other things. While you and Joshua talked through anything and everything to prepare to start a fake relationship, you covered comfort levels with physical affection. You both say you’re comfortable with physical touch, though he seems to seek it out more than you do. That includes at least some level of PDA as a couple. You’ve never really been one to just randomly make out with a partner in public, but you’ve never been shy about expressing affection either. It was fine, when it was all theoretical.
In actual practice, it’s been a little more difficult. The first time Joshua had pressed a kiss to the side of your head while you were out with people that didn’t know it was fake caught you off guard. It shouldn’t have, he asked before doing it and you confirmed it was fine. What you hadn’t been entirely prepared for was how it would feel when he did it. Or how it would feel that he was so casual about it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it wasn’t making you rethink everything in your life.
Tonight, you’re hanging out with friends at Hyejin’s house. You and her have been friends since before you even started school. So, she knows what’s really going on with Joshua. Your other friends there, though, are mostly not in on it. Which is fine. You’re shockingly comfortable with the song and dance.
It’s not actually fine.
It starts the same as any other time you’ve been out somewhere with him. You’re sitting close together on the couch, thighs pressed together, with his arm behind you along the back of the couch. Periodically, his fingers play with the sleeve of your shirt. It’s an absentminded habit and you’re used to it. He’s usually keeping some sort of contact with you in a very subtle way. You learned right away that he did like physical touch, but it was rarely something obvious. One drink in and his affection got a little more obvious. Arm wrapped firmly around you. More kisses pressed to the side of your head.
Two drinks in and it changes again. He removes his arm from around you in favor of holding your hand. Playing with your fingers while he’s having other conversations, like he doesn’t even realize. Hand squeezing your thigh. Or tracing patterns into the material of your pants. Head dropping down on your shoulder when he’s not talking to someone else. And it’s definitely not fine. You’re nursing your drink, but even if you weren’t, his constant presence would sober you. Since you’ve just finally finished your first, you think maybe a second is a good idea.
It’s not. Joshua gets another drink, his third, and you decline. Instead, you stick with the water you’ve been drinking since you couldn’t even finish your second. You want to be able to respond, whatever happens. Respond to whatever new form of affection unlocks with this next drink.
“I hope you stick around, you’re my favorite of the partners that we’ve met,” Mimi announces to Joshua when he plops back down next to you.
You’re glad that you hadn’t taken a sip because it would’ve come out immediately. Mimi has been a friend for a long time as well, and you love her, but she doesn’t know the truth.
“Don’t I know it,” Joshua agrees, earning a lot of laughter.
“Have you met Johnny yet? I know you’re going to the wedding,” Taehyung wonders.
“Yeah Johnny showed up magically the night I brought him by to meet my parents, sister, and brother-in-law,” you say, regaining some composure.
“I think you traded up,” Joshua says, eyes laser focused on you.
You’re not so lucky this time and you just took a sip. You nearly choke. “Do you?”
“Definitely,” Joshua insists.
“I agree,” Jimin says and Mimi elbows him in the side. “What?”
“You’re going to the wedding,” she says.
“So? He’s a fucking tool,” Jimin shrugs off.
“Are you all going, then?” Joshua asks.
“A good portion of us, yeah,” Hyejin says. “Family connections, you know?”
“I wasn’t invited,” Mimi pouts.
“Want to come?” Taehyung asks and Mimi laughs.
“Tae, my love, you can’t just invite people,” Mimi says and shakes her head.
“I have a plus-one,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “I think we all knew I wouldn’t make it to the wedding in my relationship. But, Johnny still thinks I’m bringing someone.”
“Damn, okay. I’m in,” Mimi says.
“I’m not going either, my family ties weren’t enough to get an invite,” Jeonghan says without any sorrow in his eyes.
“That’s because of what you said to him after the break up,” Hyejin interrupts with a laugh.
“I don’t remember saying anything that bad,” Jeonghan shrugs, and examines his finger nails to show how little he cares.
“Remind me to show you what he said some time, it was fucking gold,” Hyejin says to Joshua.
“Do you have it saved?” you ask.
“I should have it framed, honestly,” Hyejin says. “Get you a best friend like Jeonghan, for real, for real.”
“Hey, that’s my best friend, get your own,” you joke.
“That’s a shame you won’t be there though, Han, I could’ve used the familiar face,” Joshua says.
“Like you’re going to be paying attention to anyone but your date,” Hyejin teases.
“Can you blame me? I still can’t believe how lucky I got,” Joshua says without any hint that he’s pretending. It makes your heart skip a couple beats as you try to catch your breath.
“Ugh, I’m so single,” Mimi whines.
“Maybe not after the wedding,” Hyejin teases.
The conversations devolve from there into separate, smaller chats. Joshua is back to tracing patterns into your leg. Without warning, he pops his head up and places a quick peck on your lips before dropping his head onto your shoulder again. He’s so nonchalant about it that you’re not really sure it even happened. You’ve kissed a couple times like that, quick pecks in public. But, it’s always been when you’ve talked about it. It isn’t until you look up to meet Jeonghan’s eyes that you know it all really happened.
Joshua, unaware that he’s just turned your world a little upside down, moves his head to look at you again. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
It’s barely a whisper and you know he’s not drunk. He’s not sober either, though. And you’ve had drinks around each other before. He’s just never been quite so glued to your side or free with the compliments. You’re also not usually so singularly focused on him. A fact that doesn’t go entirely unnoticed.
“Thank you,” you whisper back.
“I’m kinda hungry,” he continues in a bit of a whine.
“Well you were the one who thought skipping dinner was smart,” you tease him.
“But my little honeybunch,” he teases back. You snort and miss the way several of your friends watch the interaction because they know how you are about weird pet names.
“Try again, sweetheart,” you answer.
“Sweetheart, I like the way that sounds,” he says, distracted.
“Just a little longer and we can leave and get something to eat,” you say and he sighs.
“Fine,” he concedes and kisses your cheek, just barely a whisper away from the corner of your mouth.
About half an hour later, you say your goodbyes. Despite your suggestions, Joshua continued drinking instead of switching to water. It’s as fine as it can be, though. He’s just an affectionate drinker. He wraps an arm around you, slipping a hand into your back pocket so that he can whisper thanks again. You do your best to shrug it off and let him drape his arms around your shoulder instead.
The car ride is quiet, initially. You pick a playlist that he made for you after you first met. Something he seems to enjoy. You’re nearly back at his place when he says that he doesn’t have anything to eat. But, luckily, there’s a place around the corner that he loves that’s still open. He manages to place an order on the app, gets something for you as well, and pays before getting there. All you have to do is walk in.
“I hope you’ll come in and eat with me,” he says when you get back into the car.
You’re not really sure how to tell him that you don’t want to. Not because you don’t want to spend time with him. Or that you don’t appreciate him ordering something he knows you’ll like. No, it’s so much deeper than that. It’s that you don’t know if your heart can handle it. You’ve got a couple more weeks of this and your heart is taking a beating. All of this is fake. It’ll be over after the wedding. But, the compliments don’t feel fake. The kisses don’t feel fake. The affection doesn’t feel fake. Your heart racing is real, oh so real. You don’t need anyone to tell you that you’re in way too deep.
None of that comes out, though.
“Sure, sweetheart,” you say and hold your breath for a second. You hadn’t meant to say that when it was just you.
Joshua smiles over at you. “Really do like that.”
Does he know what he’s doing to you? Can he hear your heart hammering in your chest? Can he hear your breath catch? Does he know how insanely beautiful he is? Or that he’s all the more beautiful because he’s so unfailingly kind?
Probably not, because he gets distracted and starts singing along as the song changes. It’s welcome, but also a little devastating. His voice cuts through you in a way you’re still very unprepared to handle.
After another few minutes, you’re at Joshua’s place. He springs back into action and tries to open your door for you, even though you’re the driver. He settles for taking hold of your hand as he walks to his door, only reluctantly dropping it when he gets to the door.
His apartment is familiar to you, it has to be for this to be believable. So, he sets the food out and you grab plates. You grab a couple waters from the fridge while he takes the food over to the couch, bypassing the table. You sit next to him, leaving enough space between you that you’re not touching. Hoping he doesn’t think anything of it.
It’s useless, apparently, because he slides over to press into your side.
What’s worse (not that you thought that was possible) is that he picks things off of your plate and gives you food off his plate. Tries to feed it to you, actually, and pouts when you don’t let him. It takes everything in you not to beg him to be gentle on your heart. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing to you as he smiles and jokes. Doesn’t seem to think twice about playing with your hands or his hand on your leg or any of the things he usually does when you have an audience. There’s nobody here to see and he’s not usually this touchy when you’re alone. Maybe it’s the drinks.
“I like your friends a lot, you know,” he says out of nowhere.
“They like you, too,” you assure him.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I’d assume they like me as well,” you laugh out.
“No, I meant me. Do you like me?” he asks, eyes big and vulnerable.
Please, Joshua, I’m begging you. Be gentle with me, you think so loud you’re worried he might hear.
“I’m actually a little sick of you,” you joke.
“But, but,” he begins and dramatically throws himself in your lap.
“You’re the worst,” you say without any bite. Your hands find their way into his hair, softly running through the strands.
“That feels nice,” he says softly. “Can I just stay like this? I’m tired.”
“Of course,” you whisper.
“You’ll stay with me?” he asks, sounding like he’s about to drift off.
You’re sure he won’t remember any of this. Not because he’s drunk, but he’s on the edges of sleep. So, you answer in a whisper. “Always.”
Maybe he’s not the one that needs to be careful with your heart. Maybe it’s you that needs to be careful. You know that you could walk away. That you could just remind him that this is all fake and there’s nobody around to see now. That’s not what you do. So, maybe you’re just as much to blame.
Sunday
Joshua: thanks for taking care of me last night
Joshua: idk why the drinks hit me so hard
Joshua: when did you leave?
Monday
Joshua: is everything okay? Did i say something stupid?
Tuesday
Joshua: i don’t wanna sound clingy but are we still getting together at your place after work?
Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you need to respond. You know that what you’re doing isn’t fair to anyone. It’s not like Joshua can somehow read your mind to realize you’re spiraling. It just feels a little paralyzing. This is a weird limbo of knowing you might be in over your head, but still believing this is all fake.
Jeonghan: hey dummy i know you’re ignoring joshua so i’m coming over tonight
Jeonghan: i told him you’ve been busy at work and i haven’t heard from you either but we have some talking to do
Leave it to Jeonghan. You had almost forgotten, with how well you’ve gotten to know Joshua, that it was Jeonghan who introduced you in the first place. Of course he would text your best friend when he couldn’t get a hold of you. Does that make you feel better? Not really, you think, because it feels like a real relationship in a way. Oh well, you can talk about it with Jeonghan. If he shows up, that is.
And he does, less than an hour later.
“I’m here,” he announces when he comes in the door.
“Thanks for knocking and giving me the chance to pretend I’m not here,” you call back.
“Your car is outside and you have your location turned on,” Jeonghan says.
“Right,” you answer as he comes through the hall holding a bag from your favorite take out place.
“At least I come bearing gifts,” he says.
“You’re an angel, do you know that?” you ask and reach for the bag.
Jeonghan snorts. “I’m gonna remind you of that the next time you call me a demon.”
“Well, Lucifer was a fallen angel,” you reason with a shrug.
“I hate you,” he says.
“I know,” you answer.
Jeonghan busies himself with taking out the food and making sure you have napkins. Tells you what he wants to drink when you get up to go into the kitchen. Calls for you to grab some utensils as well. By the time you sit back down with him, he’s flipping through a streaming service trying to find something to watch. It’s not at all what you’re expecting and you just let it happen. The two of you have been friends long enough to know you should just let things play out.
With some mindless show on in the background, Jeonghan talks about work and your friends and everything else that’s been going on the past few days. Like it’s been weeks since you last saw him. Mostly, he talks about how Taehyung has been blowing up his phone asking for advice about Mimi, which is actually news to you. Sure, you saw him ask her if she wanted to go with him to the wedding. What you had not expected was for him to actually be interested. Which he is, if his messages to Jeonghan are anything to go by. It’s been everything from advice about talking to her to what kinds of things she might like as a surprise. They would probably be cute, you think.
“Yeah, well, sometimes feelings catch us off guard,” Jeonghan says when you admit your surprise.
Damn. Did you really walk right into that?
“True,” you admit, knowing that’s the best answer you can give.
“Talk to me,” Jeonghan urges.
“About what?” you ask to buy more time.
“Joshua,” he says.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you state. That makes him fix you with a look.
“Clearly there is or you wouldn’t be ignoring him,” he says.
“We’re not really dating so I don’t owe him constant updates. I’m not ignoring him. I just have other shit to do,” you say without looking at him.
“Would you like to be?” he asks. That does make you turn to him.
“Like to be what?” you ask, though you think you know.
“Really dating him,” Jeonghan says.
It’s a crossroads kind of moment. You could say that you don’t want that. That would be a lie, though, and Jeonghan doesn’t like it when you lie. Can always tell the second you say something that’s not true. The truth is that you’ve spent nearly every moment since that stupid night at Hyejin’s place thinking about what you actually feel for your fake boyfriend.
“I don’t…know,” you say slowly and earn a smile because it’s not a lie.
“I was there the other night too, I saw the way it all played out,” he says.
“I mean, does it matter? This is all fake and soon, it’ll be over,” you say.
“Of course it matters and it’ll be over soon? Please,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I know he’s told you that he wants to keep you in his life after Johnny’s wedding. So, what? You’re just gonna be like okay, that was fun, let’s never talk again?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” you say quietly.
He rolls his eyes. “Try again, buttercup.”
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me like that, he’s just nice,” you say, avoidant as ever.
“He looks at you like he’d give you the moon if you asked for it,” Jeonghan snorts out.
“He’s just nice, Han,” you disagree.
“Maybe,” your closest friend concedes, a rare move for him. It feels weird all the same. “Whatever it is, text him back. He misses you and I don’t want to hear anymore about how he’s worrying he upset you.”
“He’s been worrying that he upset me?” you ask. Your heart constricts at that.
“Yeah, for some reason he actually likes your company,” he says. “Can’t relate.”
You smack Jeonghan on the arm. “Says the man who shows up at my place unannounced when I ignore him for a day.”
“No, I was just bored,” he argued. “And you’re way too stubborn to sort out your shit on your own.”
“I’m not stubborn, but fine, I’ll text him,” you relent.
“Now,” he says.
“What?”
“Text him now so that I know you actually did it.”
You roll your eyes at him, but pull your phone out anyway. Angling it away from Jeonghan so that he can’t see your screen. He’s such a nosy brat sometimes.
You: hey, i’m sorry. It’s been really busy and i had a lot on my mind
You: wanna do something tomorrow?
The response comes right away and you ignore the smug look on Jeonghan’s face as you quickly make plans. If Jeonghan was anyone else, he would probably just let you be since he ultimately got what he wanted. But, he’s not anyone else. And he’s as caring to his friends as he is calculating when he wants something. So, he’s not doing it to be cruel, not at all. He just wants you to consider what you’re actually feeling.
You’ll never tell Jeonghan how much you appreciate him talking everything through with you. Never tell him how good it feels to get all the thoughts out of your head. To his credit, he’s not smug and he doesn’t tell you that he’s been right about your feelings all along. He just listens, supports you when you need it, and encourages you to keep thinking through everything that’s going on.
As a make-up for slightly ignoring Joshua (over your own internal freak out), you take him to dinner at your favorite restaurant. It’s this tiny little hole-in-the-wall that people seem to walk past. The kind of place where you couldn’t overspend even if you tried because the couple that owned it just wanted to share good food. The kind of place where they know everyone by name. It makes you feel instantly at ease.
Joshua doesn’t say it, but he also kind of can’t believe you wanted to show him some place that meant so much to you. All he could do was watch, with so much fondness, as you spoke to the couple about everything under the sun. Watch as you turned slightly red when they scolded you for taking so long to bring Joshua by. Smile as you promised the both of you would be back. Despite trying to pay, you beat him to it. Even leaving a massive tip because you insisted the couple had undercharged you. They made a big show of not wanting to take the tip and you only reminded them the cash would stay sitting on the counter. You weren’t taking it back either.
You don’t really think about it when you take a picture of you and Joshua to upload on Instagram. At least, you try not to. Later, when you’re home and winding down for the night, you pull the picture back up. It’s amazing just how happy both of you look. You don’t need to read the comments to know that you’ve never looked so happy in your life. Every part of you wants to pull back again. It’s overwhelming. But, Jeonghan’s voice plays in your head and instead you push past. Make more plans that could break your heart. You have to just trust that he won’t.
It isn’t until the weekend that you’re able to see him again because your schedules didn’t quite match up. That doesn’t stop him from calling you at night, though. Insisting that he wants to know how your day was, even if you can only spare a few minutes for a call. (Which never ends up being the case. You fall asleep on the phone with him twice. His voice is just so soothing when it’s all deep and soft.)
Again, Joshua tells you the date is a surprise. He can be a little bit of a demon, when it suits him. Sure, he likes to pretend he’s not. That he’s above the chaos. Then, he does something like this and he can’t really escape it. But, he’s so sure he knows what you like that he’s positive you’ll enjoy the date. You remember how that chat had gone, too. You were ready to go to sleep, but unable to say goodnight.
(“I have our next date planned,” Joshua says, voice soft to match the calm of the night.
“What is it?” you wonder.
“A surprise,” he answers.
“What if I don’t like it?” you ask back.
“You will,” he assures you.
“You sure seem to think you know me,” you joke.
“Yeah, I do. Don’t worry, you’ll like this too,” he says.
There was no point in denying it. That confidence sent a bit of a shiver through you.)
It turns out that the date is at a winery where you’re painting with wine. You have to ask him to say it again because you’ve only ever heard of wine and paint classes. Painting with wine is entirely new to you. It sounds fun, though, and you know how crafty Joshua can be, have seen all the projects around his apartment. So, even though you’re definitely not that artistic, you’re excited to see this as well.
Admittedly, by the end of the session, your painting isn’t bad. It was a bit weird to use wine in that way, but they let you drink as well. Which makes it a lot easier to just go along with the idea of painting. Joshua’s painting, on the other hand, is beautiful. Not for the first time, you think his talents might be wasted at an office job. You’ve seen the bracelets he makes and now you’ve seen him paint. You’ve heard him sing and play the guitar. He’s impossibly artistic in a way that should make you jealous. Instead, it just makes you more endeared to him.
You snap a picture of him and his art when he’s not looking and upload it before he can even realize it. It’s only when a notification goes off on his phone that he realizes. He doesn’t even say anything, just gets a sparkle in his eyes that makes you weary immediately. He’s busy tapping away on his own phone before a notification sounds on yours. Maybe you weren’t the only one to steal a candid shot if the picture of you laughing with a glass of wine in one hand and a paintbrush in the other is anything to go by. It’s the caption that really ruins you, though. Just a simple “think I’m addicted to her light”. It’s so simple and also so much sweeter than yours. You fight through the urge to run away.
Which lasts until you get home from dinner. It was the perfect date, truly. Joshua always seems to know exactly how to plan out a day so everything works. After sipping wine and painting, he took you to one of his favorite restaurants. Nothing too pretentious, just kind of unassuming. The kind of place where you get good food and even better conversation. It’s (mostly) easy to keep your mind off the way your heart keeps racing.
When you’re back home, you’re not so lucky.
Back home, alone in your apartment, there aren’t any distractions. Nothing to stop your mind from all the ways that it can sabotage your own happiness. Nothing to stop you from thinking about how nobody, not even Johnny, has ever planned out such thoughtful dates for you. Nobody has ever taken the time to really know you like Joshua. Even if you won’t admit it, he knows you better than anyone you’ve ever dated. Which is terrifying, since this is all fake. And he hasn’t even known you that long.
So, you do the rational thing and you pull back again. Answer his texts so that he doesn’t send Jeonghan over to figure out what’s wrong, but don’t make solid plans. Talk a lot about a work project that you really need to get done ahead of schedule so that you’re not stressing leading up to the wedding. And you throw in some easy suggestions in the meantime so that it still seems like you’re making an effort.
Lunch on a work day so that it has a set ending time. Which still tugs at your heartstrings a bit because he takes a longer lunch just to meet you closer to where you work.
An event where your parents purchased a table for charity because he’s in high demand with your family around. And he can’t be as affectionate.
His Open Mic Nights, but with the excuse that you can’t stay too late because of your project and he should stick around with his friends. You’ll get home safely.
Small little things that keep you around him and keep up your conversations while still giving you time to breathe. You’re sure that you’re pulling it all off. And then, the wedding is around the corner. The finish line is in sight.
You: I’m not going to the wedding
You: you don’t have to come pick me up
Joshua: what are you talking about?
You: i’m not going
Joshua: but it’s literally in a few hours?
You: yeah and i don’t wanna go, so you’re off the hook
You: thanks for everything, but you don’t have to pretend anymore
Even if you know you’re being a little petulant, you don’t really care. This whole thing was supposed to be about protecting your heart. Protecting your pride. Not showing up to your cheating ex-fiance's wedding alone and looking like some kind of loser. It was not supposed to be about your heart getting clobbered anyway. So, you’re doing the only logical thing you can think of. Ignoring your problems. Avoiding both the wedding and Joshua. What you’re not prepared for, though you should be, is the knock that comes at your door half an hour later.
Joshua is on the other side of the door and your heart actually stops. He’s got his tux on and his hair styled back off his face. His eyes are soft as they take you in, noting that you have your hair and make up done. Though, you’re still in your sweats. You got at least that far before you decided this was a stupid fucking decision.
“Can I come in?” he asks when you don’t say anything.
“Sure,” you say and step aside.
“You look like you’re getting ready,” he comments once he’s inside.
“I was, until I texted you,” you answer. “Speaking of, why are you here?”
“Because we had plans,” he says.
“Yeah to go see my ex-fiance marry the girl he cheated on me with. Oh, and for you to pretend to be my boyfriend so I didn’t look pathetic,” you say with a huff.
“You’re not pathetic. He’s an asshole,” Joshua says. He doesn’t swear often, so it catches you a little off guard.
“Well, whatever, you don’t have to go. So, I’m not really sure why you’re here,” you say.
“You’re being so cold. What’s going on?” Joshua asks and reaches out to you. Instead, you duck away from his touch.
“Nothing is going on. It was stupid to care what Johnny thought or to try and save face somehow,” you say.
“It’s not stupid. He hurt you and you didn’t deserve that,” Joshua urges.
“You really don’t know me that well. Maybe I did deserve it. Maybe I was awful to him and he had no choice,” you say.
“We both know that’s not true,” he says.
“Do we?” you challenge.
“Yes, we do,” he presses. “There is nothing you could do that justifies cheating instead of just breaking it off. But, I also know you didn’t do anything wrong. Jeonghan and I talked about it.”
“You spoke to Jeonghan about my relationship behind my back?” you question.
“What is going on? We’ve been hanging out for weeks and getting to know each other. I just wanted to know more about someone I was going to be helping. And I like knowing you,” Joshua says and you have to look away. You don’t need the reminder of how much time you’ve spent with him.
“Yeah, sorry about all that time we wasted. I’ll pay you back for the tux or anything else you had to buy to pretend to date me,” you say and he looks genuinely confused.
“I don’t…want you to pay me back for anything. It wasn’t a waste of time. I did this because I wanted to,” he says.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to pretend anymore because I’m not going to the stupid fucking wedding. It was a really bad idea in the first place,” you say.
Joshua clenches his jaw and looks away. Like maybe he’s frustrated. “What is going on? Do you still have feelings for him?”
“For who? Johnny?” you ask, so insanely caught off guard that you forget you’re mad.
“Yes,” Joshua says tightly.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you bark out.
“Well? You’re being really weird and now you don’t want to go to a wedding that we’ve been planning on,” he starts.
“Yeah, which should make you happy, since you don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore,” you say.
“Because you’re still in love with Johnny,” Joshua finishes like he hadn’t even heard you.
“Oh my god,” you nearly scream. “I’m not fucking in love with Johnny. This isn’t about him.”
“So, you don’t want to go to the wedding and it has nothing to do with him? That doesn’t make any sense,” he says.
“No, I don’t want to keep doing this,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “I don’t want to keep pretending to date you when I -”
You clamp your mouth shut. Unable to believe that you almost blurted out how you feel.
“When you what?” he challenges. “What? Is it that bad being around me? Is that it? Are you just sick of me? Ready to toss me aside?”
You laugh bitterly, not even able to appreciate the irony in the situation. “No, Joshua, I don’t want to toss you aside.”
“Then, what? What am I supposed to think when you’ve been pushing me away for the last couple weeks? And I have to act like I haven’t noticed all the ways you’ve kept me at arm’s length since we went to the winery. Why did you just decide, literally today, that you don’t want to go to the wedding after all?” he asks, rambling. He’s pacing in front of you. “Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?”
“Because I don’t want to get hurt!” you blurt out. “Because I don’t want to go to my fucking scumbag of an ex’s wedding where everyone is going to be giving me these looks of pity or focusing on my relationship with him when all I want is this.”
“This? What?” he asks, coming to a stop.
“This, Joshua, you and me. Having this just all be pretend is breaking my heart. I can’t keep doing it. It was supposed to keep me from getting my heart broken. It sucks and I hate it and I just wish it wasn’t pretend. I don’t want to go to the wedding and have you be so sweet and kind and caring when I’m going to know it has an expiration date. That it’s all just been for show,” you admit. You turn away, clutching your arms around your center because you’re so tired. And so exposed. So vulnerable. It’s awful.
The tears won’t stop, so you don’t notice how Joshua has closed the space between you until he wraps his arms around you from behind. Pulls you back against his chest and presses a kiss into your hair.
“So, let’s stop saying it’s pretend,” he whispers.
“What?” you whisper back.
He turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him and gently brushes away the tears. “Let’s stop saying it’s fake. It doesn’t feel fake, does it?”
“No,” is all you can manage.
“So, it’s not fake and we’re not pretending,” he says.
“But,” you start to protest.
“I knew I was in trouble, really deep trouble, as soon as we left your parents’ house. I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he says as he gently runs a thumb across your cheek to wipe away a tear . Your eyes go wide.
“That was barely a week in,” you say and he just shrugs. “And I’d dumped all my bullshit on you.”
“I think that’s actually what made me like you so much,” he says. “It was supposed to be fake and we were trying to get to know each other well enough to pull it off. But, instead, I just realized you were actually perfect.”
“Perfect? I was broken,” you joke and he shakes his head.
“No, you’ve been hurt. Who hasn’t? You’re also strong, kind, funny, a fiercely loyal friend, and one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met, inside and out,” he says.
“That’s so, you’re so sweet,” you say and try to hide your face. He doesn’t let you. “You like me?”
“I’ve liked you the whole time. I did think it was a date, after all,” he says. “And do you think I’m that affectionate with everyone?”
“We were pretending,” you argue.
“I wasn’t,” he argues back.
“Our closest friends thought you were,” you disagree.
“And was anyone else there in my apartment when I was still being affectionate?” he asks.
“Well, no, but…” you start.
“I heard you say always,” he tells you.
“You did?” you ask, sure that it’s been your secret this whole time.
“We don’t have to go to the wedding. But, if it’s just because you don’t want this to be over with me, then it’s not going to be over. I’m yours for as long as you want me,” he says so earnestly it nearly makes you blush.
“Careful, you might get sick of me,” you joke.
He puts a finger under your chin so he can look you in the eyes. “I’ll say it again. I’m yours as long as you want me. I won’t get sick of you.”
“I…” you start and don’t know where to go. So you do the only thing you can think of and kiss him. It’s clear he’s a little caught off guard, but he recovers quickly. His arms wrap around you to hold you tight against him. It’s the first time you’ve really kissed him and you’re so screwed because he really is perfect at this too.
“So, do I get you for the rest of today?” he asks.
You take in his tuxedo again, for real this time. Appreciating how well it’s tailored and how amazing he looks. With a sigh, you say, “you know, it’s a shame to waste such a nice tux.”
“Are you…I thought we weren’t going,” he stutters.
“I’m probably gonna have to fix my makeup in the car, but why not? I want to show off my super hot and very real boyfriend,” you say and watch him choke on air.
“You can’t just say…” he starts.
“Damn, sick of me already?” you tease.
“You know I’m not,” he answers and moves to follow you.
“No, no. You don’t get to see me changing. I’ll be back out in a second,” you say.
You’re in the middle of shimmying into your dress when you realize that you do still have a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out. This whole situation has been unusual, though, so it probably makes sense that there isn’t a template. Once you have your shoes on, you walk back into the living room, prepared to say something, only to find Joshua speechless.
“You look…” he starts.
“You’ve seen the dress already,” you say and smile.
“Not on you. Not in person. You look amazing,” he says and crosses to pull you into his arms. “Are you sure we have to go?”
“Yes,” you say and swat him. “But, I do know we have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m not in a rush,” he says and allows you to step away.
“We might need to be in a bit of a rush,” you say, checking the time and gathering all your things.
“Let’s go, then,” Joshua says and offers his arm.
The wedding passes in kind of a blur. In truth, you barely even register Johnny or what he’s doing beyond the actual ceremony. The reception is so massive that it’s easiest just to focus on the people around you. Especially when you’re at a table with your friends. Thankfully, you’re not at a table with your parents or your sister. It does mean, though, that you’re sitting next to Hyejin, who has definitely realized that something shifted between you and Joshua. So, she’s trying to sneak in a question any time she can. Which is hard, given that Joshua is more attached to you than ever. And Hyejin doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to you. All you manage to let her know is that it’s real now and that you’ll fill her in after the wedding. (You’re also thankful that people seem to be cooing over Taehyung and Mimi since they’re the shiny new topic.)
It’s also nice to have Joshua there because he’s a built in way to excuse yourself from any conversation that you don’t want to be part of. It’s easy to just say you’re going to go back to the table. Or, in the case of a good song coming on, he’ll be quick to drag you to the dance floor and away from whatever conversation you’re stuck in. He’s a good dancer, too. You don’t miss the way Hyejin catches your eye when the first slow song comes on and he pulls you close to him. But, that’s a conversation for another day. All you wanted was to appreciate the way his hand felt on your lower back or your hand felt in his.
When it was finally time to leave, Joshua led you out of the event, arm around you to guide you. Neither of you were drunk, but you had still hired someone to take you to and from the wedding anyway. A gift from your parents to appreciate you “doing the right thing” and coming to the wedding. For the sake of the families. It made you roll your eyes at the time, yet you’re thankful now. It would be far better than having to take an Uber or trying to get a room at the hotel (and risking seeing everyone else staying there the next morning). The ride home also gave you the chance to talk. Really talk. Neither of you cared much that someone else was driving (and he had the partition up, anyway), as you talked about your feelings honestly for the first time.
As it turned out, you had a lot to say. Both of you. You hadn’t been nearly as good at hiding your feelings from Joshua as you had been at hiding them from yourself. He had hoped you were going to admit them to him after that night at his apartment. Instead, you avoided him. Yes, he knew that you had been avoiding him. You also weren’t very good at picking up on the signs he dropped about his feelings for you. He admitted that he could have just said something, but he was trying to be subtle so he didn’t scare you off. Trying to let his actions speak through more affection. You admit you were scared to think it was anything more than it actually was. Scared of your feelings. Scared of getting hurt again. Joshua completely understands that and admits that he’s a little scared, too, because you’re definitely more important to him than he was anticipating. He’s also confident that you can work through it together. It gives you a feeling of hope. Makes everything about you feel lighter. You see that relief reflected in Joshua’s eyes when they scan yours.
The car pulls to a stop and he gets out first. He holds his hand out to help you out of the car. You’re not really sure what comes over you.
“Come up with me,” you ask, but it’s more of a statement.
He hesitates, conflicted. “I don’t know if I should.”
“Why?” you ask, clearly confused.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave,” he answers and you smile.
“Then stay,” you shrug, “at least for breakfast.”
Without waiting for him to respond, you turn and head for the front door of the building. It means you miss the way he freezes in place, but you can guess at that by how long it takes before he catches up to you. He’s unusually quiet and still beside you as you go up the elevator and then behind you as you unlock the door.
“I’m gonna go change,” you announce after you drop your keys by the door. You look back at Joshua, appreciating him in the tuxedo one last time. “I’ve got some clothes in the spare room that should fit. They’re Jeonghan’s ”
You take the opportunity to breathe for a second, to let it settle in that you asked Joshua to come in with you and stay the night. Then, you set about changing out of your dress. Carefully clean your face free of the make-up. Brush through your hair and twist it back off of your face. Once you’re in comfy clothes and bare faced, you head back out into the living room. It’s odd that you don’t even feel self-conscious about Joshua seeing you like this, you’re instantly comfortable.
Joshua’s back is to you in the kitchen. When he turns around, you see that he’s put together a little platter of snacks. You also were right, the t-shirt and shorts he picked out seem to fit him well. Jeonghan is a little slighter than Joshua, but he wears most of his clothes on the baggier side.
“Thanks for the clothes,” he says when you both meet on the couch. “I was worried when you said you had spare clothes they were gonna be from an ex or Johnny or something.”
Your laugh is sudden and clearly catches Joshua off guard. “I wouldn’t have kept any of Johnny’s clothes. I gave them all to charity.”
“I’m sure he was thrilled with that,” Joshua laughs.
“They made a killing reselling them,” you laugh in response. “Wanna watch something?”
“Sure, you pick,” he says.
You start clicking through your saved list to find something that the two of you can watch. Once you settle on something, Joshua motions you over. Even if you want to pretend you’re considering it, you can’t. Every part of you wants to be close to him. When you slide over, he pulls you in tighter to his body and you fit like you always belonged there with him.
If you thought he was physically affectionate when he was pretending, it’s nothing compared to now that he knows you’re both in this. He has one hand running along your arm or the other along your thigh. Sometimes he reaches out to take one of your hands. Other times he presses kisses into your hair. It’s pretty clear right away that he’s not paying much attention to the show.
If you’re being honest, you’re not really either.
Everything is distracting. The way his fingers on the bare skin of your arm raises goosebumps. The way his kiss in your hair makes your eyes close in appreciation. The way he squeezes your thigh and short circuits your brain.
You can’t help it. You turn your head so that you can look at him. He caresses your cheek, so gentle. Runs his thumb across your lip. You’re holding your breath, just waiting to see what he’s going to do. When you feel like you’re going to go a little bit insane, his hand moves to the back of your neck and pulls you in. It’s exactly like the first kiss before the wedding. At least, at first. It’s gentle, but full of so much desire. It’s also slow, like there’s no rush to any of it.
The position is really uncomfortable, though. You shift your legs so they’re draped over one of Joshua’s. He doesn’t miss a beat. It just allows him to pull you closer. There’s something incredibly intimate in kissing him like this. There’s this weird contrast of desire and comfort. It’s heated, but also a little lazy. Like you have all the time in the world. Which you do, you think, now that you’re being honest about your feelings.
When Joshua pulls back from the kiss, you chase his lips for a second before realizing that he’s pulled away. The way he looks at you nearly melts you into the couch.
“I don’t want to assume where this is headed, but maybe we should take it to the bedroom?” he asks. It’s cute, the way he’s a little shy. Like you didn’t invite him in to spend the night. Yeah, you’re in way over your head. At least it seems like he might be too.
You pull your legs back so that you can stand up. His eyes track your movements as you reach your hand back to him. He accepts it without a word and lets you lead him to the bedroom. Even if he’s seen your bedroom before, this feels different. You’re waiting for him to look around, but his eyes are glued on you. Joshua even waits for you to lead him all the way to the bed, so you direct him to sit on the edge.
Once Joshua is seated, you step between his legs and tilt your head down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around you so that he can pull you against him. There’s barely any space between you. It sends a little bit of a shiver as his hands run up your back and back down. The touch is gentle and caring. Like he’s trying to put everything he feels into it. Something about it just makes you feel so insanely safe.
He’s the one to break the kiss again, but this time it’s to move back onto the bed and grab your hand to pull you along with him. It’s easy to just follow suit and get comfortable laying next to him, bodies facing each other. The kissing picks up when your lips meet again. Joshua kisses you breathless with a passion you’re eager to explore. One of his hands rests on your hip, casually sliding beneath your shirt and caressing up your side. You press your body further into his and capture his moan with a kiss. It feels like you’re a bit drunk off each other.
When Joshua’s hand moves back down, you take the chance to throw your leg over his hip, allowing you to press further into him and feel how this is turning him on. Part of you knows that he’s still waiting for you to set the pace. Or that he wants things to be a little slower. So, you help him out and roll the two of you over so that you’re straddled on top of him. Putting his hands on your hips, you lean over to kiss him again. In this position, you can also grind into his lap. You delight in how he’s already getting hard beneath you, enjoy the way his hands grip the soft flesh of your hips.
He pulls back and looks at you with blown pupils. “Baby, please don’t tease me.”
“No silly pet name?” you tease him.
“Not when you’re getting me this turned on like a horny teenager,” he whines.
“You mean like this?” you ask, injecting as much innocence as you can when you slowly drag your clothed pussy across his dick again.
Joshua throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, and grips you tighter. “Yes.”
“So you don’t like it?” you ask, grinding a little more.
“Fuck,” he hisses out. And somehow that’s the thing that almost breaks you. Why is that one swear so hot on his lips?
Without saying anything, you sit up a little bit, still making sure you’re straddling Joshua, so that you can pull his shirt off him. Your eyes go wide because you’ve never seen him shirtless. You’ve seen him in well fitted suits or shirts, but this is entirely different. His chest looks like it was sculpted by an artist. All your attention is on your fingers running along his chest and you don’t see the way it makes him a little shy.
His hands reach for your own shirt, playing with the hem like he’s asking permission. So, you move his hands aside and pull it over your head, leaving your skin bare as well. You watch him drink you in, feeling almost empowered by the desire you see in his eyes. He pulls you back towards him so that he can get one of your breasts into his mouth. The way he teases your nipple with his tongue has you clenching around nothing. You can feel how wet it’s making you and try your best not to squirm when he moves from one breast to the other.
“I need you,” you utter.
“I need you, too,” he says against your skin. His hips buck up into you almost involuntarily.
You slide off of him and pull your shorts down and he gasps that you don’t have any underwear on. It isn’t like you were expecting anything, you just wanted to be prepared. While he’s still a little drunk on the sight of you fully naked, you help him discard the rest of his clothing. The sight of his cock springing free, precum leaking out, has you wanting to get your mouth on him.
But, you’re realizing, what you really want is to feel him inside you. After so much tension and wondering, you just want to have this moment together. You want to be as close as two people can possibly get. You want all the intimacy and to be able to see his face. It’s this thought that pushes you back to the bed to lay with him.
Joshua repositions and runs a hand down your body. Lets his fingers run along your thighs and tease their way up to gather some of your wetness. Your eyes close as he runs a finger up your slit. It’s such a little amount of contact and it makes you moan anyway.
“Damn, are you this wet just for me?” he asks and presses a kiss into the first bit of your skin he can reach.
“I want to feel you,” you admit. Joshua makes you press a finger into your pussy, but you stop him. Confusion takes over his features.
“I thought…do you not want this?” he asks.
“I do, but I want…I want all of you,” you admit. “I want to feel you deep inside of me. I want to be completely ruined by you. I want to come together.”
“Shit,” he hisses, hand stilling against your body. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” you ask.
“I want to taste you soon,” he says, pressing a kiss into your shoulder.
The thought of him between your legs makes you shiver. It’s almost enough to forget that you want this first time to be together. “Deal.”
“Do you have condoms? I wasn’t exactly expecting…” he says, trailing off.
“That drawer,” you say and point.
He rolls himself off of the bed to open the drawer. You’re not sure why you expect his hands to be a little unsteady when he rips open the wrapper and rolls it onto himself, but he’s so calm. Maybe it’s just you that’s a little nervous. At least, that’s what you think until you catch the look on his face. It has to be the same as yours, naked want mixed with a little bit of uncertainty. Everything else has been so easy with you, what if this is where it goes wrong?
“Just lay back,” he urges you, voice calming any lingering nerves. His voice drops to a whisper, like the next statement is just for him. “You’re so beautiful, every single inch of you.”
It makes your heart constrict in a way that you’re not really prepared for. It would be nice if your feelings could stop flooding in all at once like a dam breaking. It’s overwhelming. You do as he says, though, and lean back against the pillow. Joshua gently spreads your legs apart and takes another moment to appreciate you. He can’t seem to help himself from running a finger along your entrance.
Even though he would fully be within his rights to tease you, he doesn’t. He lines himself up at your entrance and looks to you for final confirmation. All you can manage is a nod. You know he wants to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. So, he accepts the nods and slowly presses into you.
“Fuck,” you hiss as you adjust to him.
“Are you okay?” he worries.
“Feels good,” you say with a slight whine. “It’s just been a bit.”
He presses the rest of the way into you and then stills so you can get used to him. It’s really overwhelming. Not just because you’re finally feeling him inside of you. More so because he’s looking at you with more adoration than you’ve ever felt in your life. Like this is it for him. Like you’re it for him. It’s too early to be thinking of love, but you really don’t know if anyone has ever loved you so completely. You think he’s probably it for you too.
Once he finally starts to move, you know it’s going to be over entirely too fast. He starts with slow thrusts, testing what you want. You dig your fingers into his arms as a way to ground yourself. To anchor yourself to him and in the moment. When he picks up the pace, your mind goes entirely blank. It’s just the right speed. While you love the hard and fast fucking, there’s something so much more intimate about this kind of in between speed.
“God you feel so good,” he whines as he snaps into you again. “So tight and perfect.”
“You’re so - oh my god,” you moan out, unable to finish the sentence as he hits you just right.
Joshua moves one of your legs so that it’s over his shoulder and presses further into you, hitting deeper than you were prepared for.
“Fuck, Joshua, holy shit,” you scream out.
“Love the sound of my name on your lips,” he manages as his thrusts pick up pace.
You want to respond that you love saying it, want to say anything, but the thrusts are entirely too much. As if it wasn’t already too much, Joshua adjusts again so that he can press his thumb against your clit. He rubs circles in time with his thrusts and you think that you might see stars. You throw your head back, eyes pressed shut.
“Look at me, baby. I wanna see you when you come,” he urges, his own voice sounding ragged.
Despite wanting to focus on the pressure building between you, you do as he asks. Your eyes meet his and it’s that look that makes that coil snap. You’re coming hard and digging your fingers into whatever you can find to release some of the tension in your body. This might be the best orgasm you’ve had.
When you come back to this plane, Joshua has stilled inside of you. One of his hands gently caresses your face as he mumbles quiet praises. It’s so impossibly tender.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, you can move,” you assure him.
“Thank fuck,” he mumbles.
His pace now picks up to something fast and hard with one of his large hands anchoring your thigh to his body. Your hands grip any part of his body that they can reach and you relish the way he hisses when your nails drag patterns down his skin. Marking him so that he belongs to you. Just as you belong so completely to him.
It seems impossible but you can feel the tension building low in your stomach again. His thrusts are so hard that you feel like his cock might split you open and something about it just works for you. You hadn’t thought anything about him would translate to this kind of hard and fast sex, but it’s somehow better than you could have imagined. With him so focused on chasing his own high, you rub circles on your clit to bring yourself over the edge again. You tumble over the edge for a second time just as Joshua’s thrusts get erratic. You do your best to take over the rhythm before slowing down.
Joshua collapses on top of you, cock still buried in your pussy, and sighs. His weight on top of you feels like the best security you’ve ever had. Your hands find their way into his hair, gently stroking and scratching his scalp. As he comes back around, he presses his head further into your hand.
“Hey,” you say when he looks up at you.
“You’re perfect,” he responds and you can’t keep the smile off your face.
“You were pretty perfect yourself,” you say.
“Am I too heavy, I could…” he starts and you pull him tighter against you.
“Don’t you dare,” you warn.
He doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles his face into your neck. But, you know that you can’t stay like this forever. So you don’t protest when he gently pulls himself up and gets out of the bed. You’re right behind him, leading him into the bathroom so that you can get both of you cleaned up.
After getting cleaned up, dressed, and doing your respective night time routines, you and Joshua are settled back into your bed (on top of a fresh set of sheets). Although you’ve never been much for falling asleep cuddling, you can’t imagine leaving any space between you and him. When he wraps himself around you, all you can do is smile and settle deeper into his perfect chest. Honestly, every inch of this man is perfect and you’d be annoyed if you weren’t so helplessly attached to him.
And it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. You wake up with his chest pressed into your back and his arm still wrapped around you. It sounds like he’s still asleep based on his breathing and so you’re just considering slipping out of the bed. He moves in his sleep and pulls you tighter against him, making you feel that he’s semi-hard again. You press back against him, almost testing if he’s really asleep.
He’s not.
Joshua’s hand, already against the skin of your stomach and underneath your shirt, moves further up to your breast. His hand squeezes your breast and then he brushes his thumb over your nipple. Your body responds to his touch embarrassingly fast, which only seems to spur him on. He’s got your nipple between his fingers before you press back into him again, wiggling your ass against his dick without pretending you’re doing otherwise.
“Good morning beautiful,” Joshua says in a raspy voice into your ear.
The warmth of his breath along with the pressure of him rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger has you suppressing a moan. In the quiet of the morning, he hears it anyway. He removes his hand from your breast and you want to pout at the loss of contact. That is, until his hand works down between your legs, roughly grabbing hold of your pussy through your shorts. He runs his middle finger through your folds, likely feeling the way your shorts are getting soaked through already.
“Feels like someone might have woken up ready,” he says into your ear, voice sinfully low. His finger is still slowly teasing you through the damn material of your shorts. Somehow that makes it feel hotter.
“I wonder why,” you retort, undermined by the way you squirm under his touch.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks and stops his movements.
Your hand immediately moves to his. To guide him back to your cunt. “Please don’t. Want to see what those hands can do.”
His mouth is still by your ear, so you hear the dark chuckle and feel the air tickle you. He moves your hand aside along with your shorts as he slips his hand inside the fabric. His middle finger resumes the previous pattern almost lazily. You’re about to ask him to stop teasing you when he presses a finger inside you suddenly.
“Fuck,” you nearly scream.
“Is someone a little sensitive?” he teases. He’s a fucking demon and you would gladly sell your soul so he didn’t stop.
The way he pumps his finger inside of you is entirely too slow. But, when you try to meet his rhythm, he stops. Just when you think you might actually die, he inserts a second finger. It makes your back arch, pressing your ass further against his now very hard cock. He hisses and pulls his fingers out from you. As you’re turning over to adjust your position, you see him insert his fingers into his mouth. Holy shit. He really is the hottest man you’ve ever met.
Instead of letting you carry on in any way, he pushes himself up and repositions. You’re not really sure what he’s doing until he reaches for your shorts to pull them off. His focus is on you, silently asking for permission again. All you can do is nod.
“Told you that I wanted to taste you,” he reminds you once your shorts are off.
“Are you sure…” you start to ask before he cuts you off.
His head snaps up so he can meet your eyes. “I’ve been waiting to taste you for weeks.”
That shuts you up pretty effectively. What can you really say in response to that? Anything you might have said dies in your throat as he licks a messy stripe up your folds. He quickly settles, using one hand to keep you spread open for him, and licks into you. It’s all you can do to keep your eyes on him as his head bobs between your legs. You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him in place even though you know he’s not going anywhere. (And okay, maybe it’s more to ground yourself to him than anything else.)
It shouldn’t be surprising that his attentiveness translates this well, but it is a little surprising how well he seems to know your body. The way he knows just when to switch from licking into your cunt to flicking his tongue over your clit. The way he knows when he needs to add a finger and then a second. The way he can tell everything your body needs before you even realize it.
By the time he pulls himself up your body, he’s got you nearly panting from the build up. The kiss he presses to your lips is sloppy and a little desperate. Like you’re both totally fucked out. His fingers inside you keep a relentless pace as he hooks them, hitting that perfect spot.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you yell out, breaking the kiss. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire in an entirely different way from the night before.
There’s nothing in the world but Joshua and the way he coaxes everything out of you. The way he has you squirting on his fingers. You’re not even sure if the praise coming out of your mouth makes any sense and you’re definitely not sure what he says in return. It’s all you can do just to appreciate the moment.
You think that you’re going to get the chance to get your mouth around his cock now that he’s given you another mind blowing orgasm. But, by the time you get your breathing under control, you see that he’s rolling a condom from your drawer onto himself. He pulls you to the edge of the bed so that your legs are hanging off. It’s instantly stronger than you’re expecting from him and pulls a gasp from you.
Without even thinking, your legs fall open. Joshua seems to have found a bottle of lube, too, and spreads it over his cock. When he lines himself up at your entrance, you expect him to ease in like the night before. He doesn’t. He snaps his full length inside of you in one motion and you’re so overstimulated, but it feels so good.
“Fuck me, Joshua, oh my fucking god,” you say and clench down around his dick.
“Shit, that feels so good,” he hisses.
“You feel so good,” you moan.
“You have no idea,” he answers and starts thrusting.
It’s a complete haze from the moment you hear his skin slap against your own. Every coherent thought leaves your head. There is nothing in the world but you and him and the way you make each other feel. He leans over your body, crowds your space. Steals sloppy, desperate kisses. Praises you constantly and in broken sentences. It’s all you can do just to hold on, so sore and so unable to stop.
Your hands grip into the sheets around you that are completely rumpled. You try everything to keep your eyes on Joshua’s face. Memorize the way he looks when he’s concentrating. Appreciate how totally gone he is because you’re sure it’s the same look you have. Delight in the way his eyes get even wider when you clench your pussy around him.
It feels a little like he’s using your body to chase his own high, except there’s total comfort in that. All you want is for him to feel as good as you do. All you want is for him to get that release, especially since you haven’t been able to get your mouth on his cock yet.
“Harder Joshua, please. I know you’re close,” you beg and he obliges immediately.
Even though you’re trying to meet the rhythm, you can’t. It’s too erratic and too unpredictable. So you pull him down to you again and kiss him. Slip your tongue inside his mouth and let the kisses get as sloppy as they need to. You feel how close he is and only kiss him harder. He breaks the kiss for the last few thrusts, groaning as he comes. You’re right there with him.
(Later, he tells you that he’s never seen anyone hotter than you when you come. It would make you embarrassed in any other situation. But, you realize that you’ve never been with anyone that’s come close to him, so maybe it’s okay to accept his praise. Maybe you deserve it. Maybe this is the person that you’ve been waiting for.)
Now, you really do have to get up and clean up. As tempting as Joshua’s offer to shower together is, you don’t want it to turn into shower sex because that’s just not sexy (or practical). Neither one of you can seem to guarantee keeping their hands off the other. Instead, you tell him that he can use the shower in your guest room. It’s fully stocked and there are still more spare clothes in there. He insists that he should get some laundry going because you must be running out of clean sheets and you definitely made a mess.
With Joshua cleaning up some around the house, you’re the first out of the shower and dressed. Pleasantly sore in the kind of way you really enjoy. You’re sitting on the couch and scrolling through your phone, trying to decide if you want to order food or just cook what you already have. Before you can make a decision, there’s a knock at the door. It’s impossible to guess who it could be. Even Jeonghan wouldn’t bother you like this. Although he’s been texting asking for an update after you told him you finally got your shit together, he wouldn’t show up like this.
When you open the door, you’d give anything for it to just be Jeonghan. Instead, you see a face that you’ve been seeing entirely too much lately.
“What are you doing here, Johnny?” you ask with a heavy sigh.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
“Why?” you ask.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” he pleads.
“Johnny, it’s the day after your wedding. What the fuck are you doing on my doorstep?” you ask, arms crossed.
“Are you really going to make me do this in the hallway?” he asks.
“I don’t see any reason to invite you inside,” you retort.
“It’s about your, uh, boyfriend,” Johnny says a little awkwardly.
“Joshua?” you ask because that actually piques your interest a bit.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“No. What about Joshua?” you ask.
“This is really awkward. It would be better if we were sitting down…” Johnny starts.
“My little honeybun, is everything okay?” Joshua asks from inside the apartment. He must be out of the shower.
“Babe, we talked about the pet names,” you remind him as he joins you at the door.
“Oh, uh, I wasn’t expecting him to be here,” Johnny says.
“I’m her boyfriend, so I know why I’m here. What are you doing here?” Joshua says without hiding any disdain.
"Are you really her boyfriend, though?" Johnny challenges.
You stiffen almost imperceptibly, but Joshua must notice it because he wraps an arm around you protectively. "Of course I am. Why are you here?"
“I needed to talk to her,” Johnny says stiffly.
“About you, apparently,” you say with your eyes on Joshua.
“Right, so can you give us a minute?” Johnny asks with his eyes on Joshua.
“No, he can’t. If you have something to say, just say it. Then you can leave us alone,” you say.
“Fine, if you really want it to be like this, fine,” Johnny says. “I knew he looked familiar when I saw him at your parents’ house with you. It just took me a while. I ran into him at a couple of functions back when I was in college and traveling all around for my dad.”
“Okay? And? I’m sorry, but I’m not sure why I care,” you say even though you know where he’s going.
“He was always with older women,” Johnny presses.
“Can you just make your point so we can get back to our day?” Joshua asks.
“Fine,” Johnny says, irritated. “The whispers were that women paid him to come to the events with them. That he was selling himself to them.”
You actually snort at the phrasing. It takes you several seconds to compose yourself. You wonder what the point of Johnny doing this and if it’s his way of trying to keep you on the hook. Then you realize that you don’t really care what he does. For the first time in forever, you’re genuinely happy.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Johnny says.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I know how Joshua helped pay for his education. And like why am I going to give him a hard time over seizing an opportunity? There’s nothing wrong with profiting off of someone wanting his company platonically,” you say.
“You’re assuming he wasn’t also sleeping with them,” Johnny says, a little stubborn.
“No, I’m not assuming. I know he wasn’t because we’ve talked about this. He told me all about it without even being prompted. And unlike certain people in my life, I have absolutely no reason to doubt him. I know I can actually trust him,” you say. “It was also years before we met. We’ve all got history.”
“Nice dig,” he says.
“It’s not a dig, Johnny. Not everything is a slight,” you say with a sigh. “Where does Gabby think you are?”
“What?” Johnny asks.
“Your wife,” you clarify. “Where does she think you are?”
“Oh, well, that’s not important. I just said I had some errands to take care of,” Johnny says and you roll your eyes.
“We’re done, Johnny,” you say.
“Wait,” he says as you’re moving to shut the door. “I know I fucked up, but…”
“There’s no buts. Not anymore,” you say. “Maybe there was a point where I’d want to hear the buts and the apologies and all that. I’m happy now, though, and you can’t even tell your wife that you came to see your ex-fiancee the day after your wedding.”
“It’s not like…” he starts and you start to close the door at the same time.
“It’s exactly like that. Goodbye, Johnny,” you say.
The second you close the door, you feel a giant weight lifted off you. You just feel tired. It’s obvious that there aren’t any feelings there anymore, so him pretending he cares as a pretense to see you just feels irritating.
“Are you okay?” Joshua asks, eyes raking over you.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you say.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yeah, really. I think I knew when I saw him at my parents’ house that time you came over for dinner that I was completely over it,” you say. “I’m sorry he tried to bring something like that up or make it a big deal.”
“I don’t care. It’s like you said, I did it and I’m not ashamed of that,” he says. “But, uh, I really wanted to thank you.”
“For what?” you ask.
“For defending me and for saying you trust me,” he says. It makes you a little shy for a second, so you look down.
“Oh, well, it’s not a big deal,” you say.
Joshua closes the space and tilts your chin up to look at him. “It’s a huge deal to me. I know we started pretending, but trusting me means the absolute world.”
“You make it easy,” you admit.
That seems to render him a little speechless as well because all he does is pull you into him in the tightest hug he’s ever given you. Your body fits into his like a puzzle piece. Which sounds sappy, even if in your head, and you don’t actually care. It’s the safest and the happiest you’ve ever felt.
“What?” he asks when you pull away.
“Nothing, I just think this is going to work,” you say.
Joshua smiles at you, that genuine smile he saves for when he’s at his happiest. “Yeah, I think so too.”
i hope you enjoyed this fic! let me know your thoughts 💕
tag list: @aaniag, @gyuminusone, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @straykidswhoo789, @holistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @matchahyuck, @sonybear40, @kimseokgen, @hyneyedfiz, @miujunhui, @graybaeismytae, @hyucksrealm, @livixxn, @sharonxdevi, @coupsystar8, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @pyeonghongrie-main, @naajaeminsgf, @beomesbabe, @magicshop913, @deletingthekisses, @lissiesykes (strikethrough means i couldn't tag, check your settings!)
#joshua smut#joshua fluff#joshua angst#joshua x reader#joshua x you#joshua x y/n#joshua fic#joshua fanfic#seventeen smut#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt x you#svt smut#svt fluff#svt angst#svthub#kvanity#joshua imagines#joshua scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt imagines#svt scenarios#ksmutsociety
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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝟐𝟒
pairing: dark!rafe x fem!pogue!reader
summary: ❝there’s only 24 hours in a day, and half of those you lay awake with thoughts of murder and carnage.❞ — when you accidentally witness rafe commit a murder, he’s willing to do everything he has to do in order to make sure there’s no loose ends. even if that means tracking you down and killing you himself.
warnings: predator/prey dynamic, murder, descriptions of violence and blood, time skips (just hours apart), choking (not the good kind), rafe quite literally tries to kill you, it kinda gives stockholm syndrome ngl
word count: 3.1k
a/n: series masterlist
hour one - 9:00 PM
“i can’t believe you talked me into taking this short cut to the boneyard, this is creepy as fuck.” you shivered, regretting your shoe choice as the gravel crunched underneath your sandals. “you’ll be here in no time, i swear! did you pass that abandoned house on the left already?” you froze, glancing back at the isolated dirt path. “girl- i haven’t seen anything since i turned this way like fifteen minutes back.” your friend gasped on the other end of the line. “where the hell are you then?!” lizzie yelled, attempting to shout over the music in the background.
“you tell me!” you cursed under your breath when you got a low battery notification. “look, my phone is about to die, i’ll try to call when i get closer.” you hung up, spotting a clear field to cut through. up in the distance you could see what looked like headlights. “thank god.” you sighed, making your way over in hopes of getting a ride out of here. as you got closer, you started rethinking your decision when two men came into your view, one pushing the other onto the ground. “what the fuck?” you whispered to yourself, your heart dropping as the man that was standing up pulled out a gun.
“please don’t do this! i’ll never steal from you again, man. i swear!” you were stuck, your feet not moving no matter how hard you tried. “you didn’t just steal from me, you stole from my family.” the cock of the gun was loud enough for your heart to beat wildly in your chest. “please, i’m begging you!” terror flooded through your system when the man on his knees glanced up, pointing a finger at you before the sound of a chamber being emptied pierced through the chilly night air. you jumped, covering your ears as they rung. the man fell with a thud, the realization of what you’ve just seen made your breath catch in your throat.
“hey!” the guy with the gun started running towards you, sending a shock of fear down your spine as you stumbled back. you whimpered when the palms of your hands landed on the bed of grass below you, the man’s footsteps only getting closer with each second you stayed on the ground. finally, when he was close enough for you to make out his face, you bolted in the opposite direction, a scream leaving your lips when he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you against his front as he breathed against your skin. “you shouldn’t have seen that.” he traced your arm with the cold metal of his gun. “please, i won’t tell anyone, i was just trying to get to a party when i saw your truck. i thought you could help me out.” you whimpered.
“thought i could help you out?” he repeated, turning you around in his grip, “you’ve seen my truck, and now you’ve seen my face. i don’t want to do this but your pretty little self was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” tears welled in your eyes as he held the gun up to your head. “i won’t go to the cops, i promise!” you cried, hands wrapping around his wrist. “i’ll forget all of this even happened.” truth be told, he really didn’t want to kill you. the second you saw his eyes soften, you knee’d him in the groin, pushing him in the chest as you took the gun from his hand. “sorry, not sorry!” you shouted, running as fast as you can while he groaned in pain. “you stupid fucking bitch!” he yelled, punching the ground in frustration.
you put the gun on safety mode, throwing it in your purse as you ran and didn’t stop until you reached what looked like the beach. sure enough as you got closer, you could hear the cheer of nearby partygoers. you sighed in relief, making your way to the center where lizzie and jj were sitting down at. “oh my god, are you alright?!” your best friend wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug while jj examined you closely. “dude, you look like you just climbed out of the woods or something.” you rolled your eyes at his words. “thanks, jayj.” you sat down, contemplating if whether or not you should tell lizzie what happened.
“i texted you like fifteen minutes ago to check on you!” she hit your arm playfully. your phone. you quickly patted yourself down, subtly looking through your small purse for the device, only to realize that you might’ve dropped it during the whole ‘escape from the killer!’ fiasco. “oh, fuck.” you whispered to yourself, lizzie and jj already back in their own little love bubble. meanwhile just on the other side of the island, rafe was seated in his truck, still sore from you kicking him in his manhood. he didn’t dwell on it too much, everything he needed to physically get ahold of you currently sat in the palm of his hand.
not only did rafe have your phone, but when he took off your phone case just to see your state id wrapped in a twenty dollar bill, he also had your full name along with your address.
hour ten - 7:00 AM
you barely slept a wink last night. after you got home from the party, you showered with the bathroom door open, way too paranoid to go over five minutes without looking out the window. you glanced at your purse, still not being able to bring yourself to open it. the flash backs of the man’s lifeless body falling to the ground was enough to keep you up. now, with the morning sun flooding through your bedroom, you knew had to get up at some point and get yourself together. “fuck.” you rubbed your eyes, quickly brushing your teeth before making your way to the small kitchen. washing some dishes from the day before, you stared out the window as you got lost in your thoughts.
he doesn’t know my name, how could he even find me? what if he found my phone with my id in it? eh, he’s probably too busy burying a body to worry about me.
“ouch!” you hissed, looking down to see that you accidentally cut yourself with one of the kitchen knives. “snap out of it.” you sighed to yourself, sucking on your finger as you looked through one of the drawers for a band aid. just as you spotted one, your heart stopped when you heard the familiar crunch of gravel in the driveway. your worst nightmare coming true when you saw the same black truck from last night parked outside. “no, no, no, no, no,” you ran to the front door, where you were met with a loud bang. “open up, y/n.” you paced around nervously, having no phone to call anyone for help. “leave me alone! i didn’t go to the police last night, and i won’t go to them ever, okay? please leave.”
“i can’t do that. you have something of mine, and i want it back.” you shuddered at the sound of his voice. “if you give me my gun, you’ll get your phone back. easy trade off.” that explains why he knew your name and where you lived. “you have my phone?” you wiped your eyes, walking closer to the trailer door. “i sure do, babe.” you debated with yourself, your breath quickening with each second you stayed silent. “will you leave me alone after this?” you unlocked the small latch, your heart beating in your ears as you opened the door, revealing the, rather beautiful, psycho that tried to kill you yesterday. “i’ll leave you alone. promise.” his eyes danced over your body. you were just in a tank top and underwear.
“i’ll be right back.” you took a deep breath, grabbing the gun out of your purse before returning back to him. when you opened the door once more, he was no where to be seen. “you make this too easy for me.” he clamped a hand over your mouth as he dragged you out of the living room and into your bedroom where he shoved you into the wall. you had no idea where the gun was pointing to, but you still pulled the trigger in a last minute effort to defend yourself. both of you jumped back, a bullet hole now adorning a spot next to your bed frame. you held the gun up, your hand shaking as you aimed at his head. “where’s my phone?” all the fear in your body was now replaced by anger. he held his hands up in defense, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
“here,” he took the device out of his pocket, tossing it on your bed. “if i was going to rat you out i would’ve done it already,” you started, “this gun has my prints all over it, too. if i went to the cops with this i’d look just as guilty.” you watched as his face fell in realization. “i don’t even know your name.” you emptied the clip of the gun, the bullets falling to the floor with a clink. “rafe.” was all he said as you pushed the gun into his chest. “listen, rafe, i’m not a runner, i don’t run from anyone. you, however, killed somebody and i happened to witness it. that’s all. you got what you wanted now, so leave.” you grabbed your phone, walking past him to the kitchen.
“i believe you, but i can’t trust you. ‘not when i have too much to lose.” he followed you, unaware of the knife you had in your grip. “so make a move.” you turned around. rafe glanced at the knife in your hand, a smirk forming on his lips. “i’m into knifeplay, don’t threaten me with a good time.” he charged at you, knocking the weapon out of your grasp. before you could react, he wrapped a hand around your throat, lifting you up onto the counter as he started choking you out. your eyes widened while you frantically reached to the side for anything to hit him with. just as your vision started getting hazy, you felt the cast iron of your skillet on the stovetop, swinging it across his head. he fell instantly, his eyes fluttering shut as he his body slumped against the floor.
you rubbed the skin of your neck, tears running down your face as you fought to catch your breath. “oh, shit.” you whimpered, leaning down to check if he had a pulse. still alive, dammit. you leaned against the wall, trying to come up with something fast before he woke up. thirty minutes later, and you had him tied to a chair in the middle of your living room. “this will have to do.” you sighed, sticking a piece of tape over his mouth.
hour eighteen - 3:00 PM
“what the fuck?” rafe’s voice was raspy when he woke up, his eyes widening slightly as he spotted you staring at him from the couch. “what time it is?” he groaned, nearly knocking his chair over at how hard he was thrashing in it. “three o’ clock, which means you’ve been knocked out cold for eight hours.” you blinked. “eight hours?! what the fuck happened?” he looked around. you couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “what happened? you started choking me like a crazy person and i hit you with a skillet before you could actually kill me.” you moved closer, showing him the purple marks that now adorned your neck. apart of him hated that he did it, but it was too late to take it back now.
he licked his lips, cringing at the weird taste. “did i have tape on my mouth?” he grimaced. “yes, but you started breathing weird so i took it off.” you walked to the kitchen, rafe’s eyes glued to the way your jeans hugged your ass. “can you untie me?” he sighed when he heard you laugh. “not a chance,” you came back to the living room with a water bottle and a chair. “we’re gonna talk first before i let you go anywhere.” you took a seat in front of him, your knees knocking against his. you opened the water bottle, bringing it up to his lips. “i choked the shit out of you and you wanna give me water?” if he felt like crap before, he felt even worse now. “do you want it or not?” he nodded.
you hated how attractive you found him, the way he was gazing up at you right now made butterflies flutter in your tummy. once he hummed that he had enough, you leaned back in your seat. “before you shot that guy last night you said he stole something from your family. what was it?” rafe sighed, shaking his head. “why should i tell you?” he scoffed. “i’ll answer whatever questions you ask me in return.” you leaned forward, your cleavage making him uncomfortably hard in his cargo shorts. “any question?” you tilted your head. “yes, but answer mine first.” you ignored the smirk that lifted in the corner of his lips. “he stole gold,” rafe cleared his throat, “like a shit ton of it.” he swallowed.
“did you get it back?” you peered up at him through your eyelashes, completely oblivious to the tent in his shorts, or so he thought. “of course i did.” you shivered at the deep baritone of his voice. rafe knew both of you were treading dangerous territory as your looks started lingering a second longer, your fingers tracing his chin everytime he asked for more water. “what does one do with that much gold? when they’re already rich, i mean.” you licked your lips, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. “get more richer.” he shrugged. “my turn.” rafe cleared his throat.
“you can’t go to the cops, and you can’t leave me tied here forever. what are you gonna do?” you sighed, spending the last eight hours asking yourself the same thing. “i don’t know, rafe. if i let you go, you might try to kill me again.” he watched you carefully, guilt settling in his gut. “i won’t do anything, i swear i’ll-” you cut him off, “you said that last time.” rafe’s eyes flickered down to your neck, his jaw clenching. “nah, you have my word.” even though he looked sincere, you knew better than to give in right away. “no.” you got up, grabbing your purse as you made your way to the front door. “woah, where are you going?” rafe started pulling at the restraints, shouting after you as you walked out your trailer.
hour twenty three - 8:00 PM
the last thing you expected to see when you got home was rafe lying on his side, staring at nothing as you rushed over to help him up. “what the hell?” you grunted, pulling the chair up. “i tried to get out of this.” he looked completely defeated as you pulled your hair out of your face. “yeah, i can see that,” you placed the bag of food you had on the kitchen table, returning with a pair of scissors. “y/n, it’s been well over a day since my last meal, just let me go i swear i’ll be out of your hair.” he swallowed dryly. kneeling down on the floor, you started cutting the ropes from the chair, mumbling a ‘don’t make me regret this.’
rafe stared wide eyed as you set him free, immediately backing away from him as he rolled his shoulders back. “your keys are on the small table by the front door.” you were practically trembling with fear when he loomed over you. with a gentle hand, he softly traced your face, his fingers trailing down your neck to touch the bruises there. “i’m sorry.” rafe whispered. not knowing how to respond, you simply blinked with a small nod. “i got you something to eat in the kitchen,” you motioned towards the white paper bag with a burger and fries in it. rafe looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real.
“you bought me food?” you relaxed when he stepped away, his hands on his head as he slowly paced back and forth. “yes..” your voice came out small. rafe was quiet for a minute before he looked at you with a look that sent shivers down your spine, except this time it wasn’t out of terror. “do you want to play a game, y/n?” he eyed your frame, loving the way your tits looked in that pretty tube top of yours. “i’m kind of tired of games, don’t you think we’ve played cat and mouse long enough?” you smiled softly when he laughed. “while you do have a point, this is a game that you win regardless.” rafe watched as you let your hair down from it’s claw clip, “why not?”
“i’m sure you’re familiar with hide and seek?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “of course i’m familiar, but why that one?” you questioned. “well here’s the thing; i’m gonna count to sixty and give you one minute to hide. if i don’t find you in two minutes, you’ll never have to worry about me showing up at your doorstep again, but if i do find you.. i fuck you.” you were immediately taken aback, your heart pounding in your ears as he got close to you once again. any normal person would immediately reject, not even giving it a second thought before declining, but a large part of you was thrilled at the idea of being hunted down. only when your life didn’t actually depend on it, of course.
you looked up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as a nervous habit. “okay.” rafe smiled devilishly. “run.” his eyes were dark when the word left his mouth. “w-what?” you stuttered, panic coursing through your veins. “i said fucking run.” he said through gritted teeth, your feet moving as he started counting down. you ran into the bedroom, cursing under your breath as you look around for a concealed hiding spot. you lived in a trailer for god’s sake, you had limited space. choosing your best bet, you squeezed into your closet, bringing your knees up to your chest as the words ‘ready or not, here i come!’ echoed in your ears.
you could hear shuffling in the bathroom and the kitchen, your eyes screwing shut as his foot steps got closer to your room. rafe was already a minute down. just as you thought he was going to walk away, the door to your closet swung open.
hour twenty four - 9:00 PM
“gotcha.”
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Gossip || Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader
Summary: Kyra wants to kiss you, and you want a date.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 2.1k
A/N: Something short & sweet & (as always) unedited. I hope you enjoy :)
“Will- um… You know that one cafe that you really like? Do you want to go there? With me, in particular?”
At Kyra's hesitantly sounded words, you had to bite back your smile. You don’t think you’d ever seen this particular Australian so nervous before.
You watched Kyra’s almond brown eyes bounce around, unable to look at anything but your face. Her hands jittered nervously at her sides, and the poor girls’ face was about as red as the tomato you’d cut up for your salad the night before.
“The cafe I like, hm? No, I’m not sure I do. I like a lot of cafes, you know?” You couldn’t help but tease the Aussie. After all, the girl was intent on pestering you and all of your teammates, so who was to say you wouldn’t tease her now?
You’d happened to know that the girl was going to ask you out sometime soon, as Katie McCabe had accidentally let the secret out, having heard it from her own Australian girlfriend.
Not a single secret could be kept on the Arsenal women’s team, which was something that you’d become all-too-aware of when you’d transferred to the team over the summer. You’d arrived at the same time as Kyra, and the two of you had become fast friends due to your similar ages and interests.
You’d quickly learned that a secret was not a secret if you told anyone on the girls’ team. Everybody had their own friends, and their partners, and their besties and, soon enough, a secret would become a known fact throughout every single person on the team. It was how you’d found out about Katie and Caitlin in the first place, having not been aware of it during the World Cup.
Looking back, it was quite obvious that Caitlin and Katie had been dating anyone with eyes. However, you’d turned off all social media during the World Cup so that you could focus on yourself and get as far as you could with your American team. As it stood, that wasn’t very far at all.
That was all besides the point, however, because the next secret to have burned through Arsenal like a wildfire was about Leah and Lia. The two weren’t a couple, as far as you knew, but you knew that they had kissed– more than one time, according to Victoria Pelova.
Now, it was Kyra’s turn to be ravaged by Arsenal’s inability to keep secrets. You would have thought that it was high school and not a full grown women’s football team with the way everyone gossiped. Everyone knew that you and Kyra had feelings for each other– that is, everyone but you.
Apparently, the two of you looked like lovesick fools anytime you were together. Emily Fox had told you that she’d never seen you as happy as you were when Kyra was by your side.
Caitlin Foord had told you that Kyra was never as carefree and herself when you weren’t near.
Hell, even Beth Mead and her girlfriend, Viv, had even tried to get the two of you to go on a double date with them, not knowing that the two of you hadn’t already been dating.
Then, of course, there was Katie McCabe herself, who had notably said that you two looked like you wanted to fuck when you locked eyes across the field during training.
And so, of course, you knew that Kyra liked you, and Kyra knew that you liked her. It had just been yesterday when Kyra had tried to kiss you while you were watching a movie in your apartment. You’d nearly let her, before you’d pushed her away.
“Hey, what was that for??!” Kyra had said, cheeks red. You’d never been this close to the Aussie before, so close that you could count the dark freckles on her cheeks if you really wanted to. So close that you could smell the cinnamon toast that the two of you had eaten just before sitting down to watch the movie. So close that you could have let her kiss you, which you didn’t.
“What are you doing?” You asked, making sure that your voice remained light. Kyra appeared confused, furrowing her eyebrows at you.
It had taken all of the strength in your body to push Kyra away, ever so gently. You’d been waiting for so long to kiss the other girl, and to call her yours, that the fact that you’d been so close to finally getting what you wanted made your chest ache.
However, you’d always been a romantic at heart, and so you simply smiled at Kyra as the girl glowered at you.
“What am I doing? What are you doing? I’m trying to kiss you!” As Kyra continued to be confused, her voice rose. You became aware of her Australian accent, which thickened as she tried to figure out why there was a specific look in your eyes and why you were smirking. It was a look that she was familiar with– one that you had on whenever you helped the Australian with a prank, or when you teased another teammate during training.
“Oh? And you think I want to kiss you? Before a first date?” You asked Kyra, fighting back a little giggle as Kyra frowned.
“We’ve hung out loads of times! We’ve cuddled each other to sleep– and you’re not counting those as dates?” Kyra asked, looking more and more like a kicked puppy as you sat there, smiling at the other girl.
“No, those were not dates, thank you very much! There were no flowers, and we didn’t even hold hands, and we only cuddled each other to sleep because we were drunk! I didn’t even think that you’d remember that night.” You elbowed Kyra, and the other girl shook her head at you.
“Okay, then. Fine. Go on a date with me!” Kyra said, and you raised your eyebrows at her.
“Really? Kyra, my love, you can do better than that!” You chastised, and saw Kyra’s frown deepen. Her eyebrows furrowed ever further, deepening the lines in her face. If she didn’t stop looking so damn adorable, you swore you would kiss her very soon.
“You want flowers, don’t you?” Kyra asked, although she sounded more like she was making a statement than anything else.
“Yup!” You said, grinning at Kyra. “Show me just how much you liiiike me.” You drew out the “i” in “like”, enjoying the look of utter frustration and impatience on Kyra’s face.
“But I wanted to kiss you.” The girl said, frowning once more.
“Ask me out, and then we can kiss all you want, love.” You said, your voice less teasing now. Truthfully, you wanted to kiss Kyra as well, but you also wanted to see what going on a date with the girl would really look like.
So, that very night, Kyra had gone out with Caitlin and Steph to pick out flowers for you. Steph had suggested that she get you chocolates as well, while Caitlin had suggested chocolates. Kyra had gotten both– despite knowing that you wouldn’t reject her, she wanted to impress you and she wanted your first date to be as perfect as possible.
Kyra had had to buy two boxes of chocolates, however, once she realized that Caitlin had eaten half of them.
And now, Kyra stood at the step of your front door, with a white dress shirt and a black jacket draped over it, as well as black pants and shoes. Her hair was down, and you had to resist the urge to push a strand of hair from her face.
The girl held roses in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, taking the roses from Kyra’s extended hand.
“Thank you, Kyra.” You whispered. Slowly, you took the Australian’s hand in your own and pulled it up to your lips, giving the back of the girls’ hand a small kiss.
When you looked up, Kyra was blushing even more, which you thought was impossible. For a moment, you thought that the poor girl was going to pass out, but she remained standing.
“I’m just going to put these in a vase on the counter. If you want to come in, you’re more than welcome to.” You told Kyra, the flowers in your hand. Kyra nodded slowly and followed you in.
It only took a moment to set the box of chocolates and flowers, and when you came back, Kyra held her hand out to you. The girl smiled, more reserved and shy than you’d ever seen her in your life. You let Kyra take your hand in hers, and enjoyed the feeling of the warm skin of her palm against your own.
Kyra dragged you right out of your house, your own clothes comfortable but similar to Kyra’s in the fact that they were formal.
That afternoon, Kyra gave you the best first date that you’d ever had. She bought you your favorite coffee, ordering for you due to the fact that she knew your order by heart. Then, the girl dragged you halfway across London to some botanical garden that Leah had told her about, knowing just how much you loved plants and nature.
The entire time, Kyra held your hand. You two shared laughs, and jokes, and just talked. You’d dreamed about doing this with Kyra for the months that you’d known her, and the feeling of finally being able to go on a date with the girl was one that you hoped you’d never forget.
When the time came to drop you back off at your house, you and Kyra stood on your doorstep again. She held both of your hands, now, and smiled at you in a way that made the dimples on her pretty cheeks stand out.
“Can I kiss you now?” Kyra asked, sounding only a little bit impatient when she did so. You intentionally paused just for a moment, before you grinned at Kyra.
“I would like that.” You answered. Before you could blink, the girl tugged you into her and wrapped her arms around your upper back. You only had a moment to giggle, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as you tilted your head upward, catching Kyra’s lips with your own.
Your hands gently came up to frame the girl’s face, allowing you to tilt her head just the way you wanted. You caught her bottom lip between your own, and you swore you melted right on the spot.
Your head was in the clouds, the warmth of the other girls’ lips on your own enough to set you on fire. In fact, you swore that your skin was burning, and as you began to part, Kyra pulled you right back in again. Kyra kissed gently, and sweetly, and her lips tasted like honey from whatever sweet she’d eaten while the two of you had been walking through the garden.
Finally, after a few more moments, you two did part. However, Kyra didn’t let you go quite yet, looking at you but almost as though she wasn’t truly there.
“Kyra?” You asked, unable to contain the smile from your voice, your lips seeming to have a mind of their own in the way that they refused to stop grinning.
The girl finally seemed to come back to herself and grinned back at you, smiling.
“Hi.” Kyra said.
“Hi, love.” You said back, and Kyra’s smile grew impossibly wider.
“Can I come in?” Kyra asked, and you laughed a little bit. Only Kyra would have the audacity to invite herself into your home after a first date.
“Oh?” You didn’t even know what to say, halfway between turning the girl down just to tease her further, while also wanting to kiss her more and more and more.
“Please? You told me that once I took you on a date, I could kiss you all I want. I’m ready to cash that in!” Well, you couldn’t argue with that logic, could you?
The rest of the afternoon was spent with you in Kyra’s arms, kissing and only half-watching the movie that Kyra had insisted upon putting on.
Of course, it was Kyra’s fault as well that the entire team caught on to your antics when you showed up in a hoodie the next morning, a light hickey just below your jaw poorly hidden with makeup. Now, it was your turn to become the team’s gossip, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
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AND THEN THERE WERE THREE…
NOTES — just saw challengers today and absolutely needed to write smth for these two! only used a gif of art because theres none of the two of them and almost none for patrick </3, i’m a little rusty with smut so bare with me
WARNINGS — 18+ content mdni, slight challengers 2024 spoilers, fem!reader, kinda dom!art, pure smut/little plot, art/patrick interactions, talk of previous art/patrick sexual encounters, spit play, oral (m receiving), tit sucking, dirty talk, mentions of anal, little bit of aftercare, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!
REQUEST — Pls write a smut fic with reader and Art fucking in the hotel room (with Patrick watching) and reader asking if Patrick can join them and ofc Art can’t say no because he finds the idea of this super hot. Maybe reader makes Art and Patrick make out like in the movie 👀
WORD COUNT — 1.6k
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None of you were too sure how exactly this had started. You, Art, and Patrick had stumbled back into their hotel room after leaving the beach, each of you finding your own place to sit after Patrick opened up a beer, took a swig, and passed the can to you. You’d taken a seat closer to Art, having naturally gravitated towards him more so than Patrick. And quickly, you and Art were making out, leaving Patrick to watch.
You blamed the beer. And the fact that you found both Art and Patrick incredibly hot. One minute you’re at a party, dedicated to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, and the next you’re sitting on the beach being invited back to the guys’ hotel room, and the next after that, Art is stripping you of your clothes while Patrick takes a seat leaned up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed.
“Can I-” He begins, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, desperation clear in his eyes. At your nod, Art quickly yanks your shirt over your head and immediately pulls your body flush against his. He’s planting soft, wet kisses up and down your neck as his fingers work the back of your bra. His eyes widen the moment it drops to the ground.
Giving you a moment's glance he quickly sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting. Feeling as though he’s neglected the other one, he pinches and tugs on the opposite nipple, smiling around the one in his mouth at the moans you let out.
“Yeah, baby? You like this? Me with your tits in my mouth and my best friend jerking off while watching us?”
For a moment, you’d forgotten about Patrick. Your eyes shoot open, landing on him instantly. The sight of him, slouched against the wall, his hand already wrapped around his cock, with his eyes fixated on both you and Art. He looked so hot, you weren’t sure how you’d forgotten that he was even there.
“Mhm, ‘s hot.” you admitted, turning Arts face back to you, tugging his bottom lip back into your mouth. The blond pushes you back onto the beds that were pushed together - Patrick’s idea if anyone were to ask - and begins kissing up your stomach only stopping long enough to kiss each of your nipples. He grabs your face, pushing his fingers into your cheeks, making you open your mouth, before letting a large glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours.
“Swallow.” He smiles when you do so without complaint, even going as far as to look as if you wanted him to do it again.
Patrick moans at that, louder than before. Sure he and Art had messed around before, when they were both single and bored and needed a good fuck, that wasn’t new, but hearing that commanding tone in the blonds voice sent a shiver down his spine.
“God, that was hot.” Patrick sighs, laughing when Art gives him the finger.
“Fuck off, Patrick.” Both of them know he doesn’t mean it, if he wasn’t wanted there, you or Art would’ve said something, but you didn’t. whether Art knew it or not, both you and he wanted him to stay, and keep watching.
At some point during that interaction, you weren’t sure when exactly, Art had shed his pants and underwear. He was dragging the tip up and down your slit, up and down, stopping every few seconds to slap your clit with it. When your eyes finally landed on his length, it made your jaw drop. He was big, bigger than you’d seen before, he was long and girthy with veins running along the bottom of it.
He slowly slides into you, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. He’d never seen anyone look so angelic. The closest comparison he could make was how Patrick looked when he’d first given him a blow job. He wouldn’t call the look on Patrick's face angelic perse, but it was hot, really hot. The reminder of that, and the way you’ve begun clenching around him, spurs him into you. His hips snapping into yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. It was unlike anything either of you had felt before.
I want him to join.
You weren’t sure that the words had actually left your mouth until the blond on top of you stopped his thrusts, looking into your eyes for a moment.
“That what you want, baby?” He murmurs, kissing sloppily up and down your neck, shivers running through your entire body at his touch. His fingers falling to your clit, flicking at it. The pleasure was almost enough to make you forget that he’d even asked a question.
Almost.
“Please,” Even in your fucked out state, you couldn’t help but want more.
“Come on, Zweig. You heard her.” Patrick grins, hopping to his feet, although slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But his nerves dissolved the moment Art turned around, and gave him that look, one that he knew meant that everything would be okay. It meant that he just needed to get over himself and have a good time, everything would work out. After that he’s on the move towards you, giving Art a harsh slap to the ass as he goes past him, laughing when Art swats back at him.
Patrick all but flies onto the bed, having kicked his underwear off the moment he stood up, and his shirt is long gone, a mix of yours, his, and Arts clothes are scattered around the hotel room, sure to have lost at least one thing. But none of you had it in you to care, too overwhelmed with pleasure. Your mouth opens before he’s even fully on the bed, but he gets the message, quickly positioning his tip in front of your mouth, thrusting a few times before losing control and fucking your throat.
The three of you move in tandem for minutes, or maybe it was hours, Art would thrust into you, rubbing your clit with his fingers, while Patrick would be pulling himself out of your mouth at the same time. It felt as though this was a regular occurrence, as though it were normal. And god did you hope it would become a normal thing. The three of you, together, making each other feel good.
Tapping Patricks thigh lightly, you hum happily when he pulls out of your mouth, giggling at how quickly he begins to check and make sure you’re okay.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The words come out of his mouth at lightning speed and it’s difficult for you to understand, but Art had and his thrusts slowed to a stop, hands leaving your body, giving you a questioning look as if repeating everything his friend had just said.
“I’m fine baby,” And then you say something neither of them could quite hear.
“Gotta speak up for us, sweetheart. Can’t do what you want us to do otherwise.” That comes from Patrick, Art nodding along with him.
“Want you two to kiss.” The words fly out of your lips and you’re suddenly shy, pressing your face into Patricks thigh, nipping at it softly.
Both men smirk at you before making eye contact with each other, giving a subtle nod.
“Well c’mon man, you know how I like it.”
The combination of Arts words, his sudden thrusts and Patrick taking it upon himself to flick at your clit, push you over the edge. The power of your orgasm makes your legs shake, your mind empty of anything this isn’t you, Patrick, or Art.
They’re still kissing, it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. It’s messy, and it only stops long enough for Arts mouth to fall open, moans spilling out as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of his come flooding your insides, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock as he fucks you through both of your orgasms.
At this point, Patrick has taken a step back, and is watching again. He’s stroking himself with one hand, squeezing just right and out of nowhere, Art reaches out, cupping the dark haired man's balls, tugging and rubbing on them just the way Patrick likes. The added pleasure sends him crashing over the edge, he barely has the time to move and aim his cum to where you and Art are connected, spilling himself all over your cunt and Arts cock.
Art pulls out and the three of you fall into a pile of heavy breathing, sweat, spit, and cum on the beds pushed into the middle of the room. Once you all catch your breath, Patrick is the first to speak.
“Wow.” It was simple, but it made you all burst out laughing.
“Wow, indeed.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his pec, turning to do the same to Art.
“That was fucking hot.” Arts words make you all giggle yet again.
“Okay,” Patrick leans you into Art and pushes himself off of the bed, “‘m gonna get you two cleaned up, be right back.” He reassures you, hearing you whine at losing his presence. He comes back with a warm washcloth in hand, and a small cup of water in his other. He hands the water to Art motioning for him to take a drink and then give you some as well, while he bends at the waist, resting his knees on the floor and taking the cloth to your core, cleaning you as gently as he could before moving onto Art. Tossing the cloth to the corner of the room he pulls both you and Art into his embrace, enjoying the quiet for a moment before you break the silence.
“Round two? Whoever makes me cum harder gets to fuck me here first.” You smile slyly, placing your hand on your ass, giggling when Patrick snatches you from Arts hold, muttering something about how he ‘got you first last time and that it’s his turn now.’
#◜ caitee’𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 ✎ ˚✧ ꜝ#challengers#art donaldson#patrick zweig#challengers x reader#challengers imagine#challengers smut#challengers x you#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig smut#mike faist x reader#mike faist smut#josh o’connor x reader#josh o’connor smut#dividers by cafekitsune
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♡𓂃Oversized teddy bear?
Bakugou X Reader
𓏲Things start getting into motion after Bakugou set some ground rules for him to be your husband. Now, Bakugou doesn't retaliate against you in the dorm, but what happens when the couple has to train and battle together? Will Bakugou slowly start breaking down his rules? And you are under mental stress on why Bakugou is acting so weird.
Word count; 3.3k
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
You groan, stretching. It’s so bright, and this has to be one of the worst nights you've had in ages. You turn and face the TV, forgetting you passed out watching movies. “Why the hell are you out here?”
“Not too loud..” you sit up yawning.
“I wasn't even loud!” you winch giving him a death stare. He’s in the kitchen washing the dishes and he has.. an apron on? You can’t help but stare because he in fact doesn't have a fucking shirt on!
“No fucking way.”
“What!?”
“Are you wearing a fucking apron?!” You laugh at him which seems to be a pattern now.
“HEY I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE AND DO THE DISHES FOR YOU!” The scoreboard goes up a point
“You just keep surprising me with how much of a big dork you are!” Bakugou quickly wipes off his hands and makes his way to you. You try catching your breath but seeing him in full view makes you laugh even more. He makes a low growl and pushes you down onto the couch, moving himself to sit on you. Not putting so much pressure as his weight would clear your windpipes but enough to make you trap. You stop laughing admittedly and stare right up at him, going quickly from finding everything hilarious a second to go, to now being turned on. “What are you doing dipshit! YOU ARE HEAVY!”
“It made you stop laughing at me, and frankly, I’m getting tired of it being a daily occurrence!”
“It's not my fault; your face is very funny!” Bakugou moves down a bit so that your faces are face to face, giving you a glare, and your face gets hot quickly. You chose to rationalize it that the heat is coming from him and not because you are blushing.
“Is my face funny now?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” You quickly glance over his body and look back at his face. You look like a full-on house husband.” Now it’s Bakugou’s turn to blush, and you decide to use this to your advantage. You put your arms around his neck. “Aww, does someone want a reward for doing the dishes?” The scoreboard shows four now.
“No. what your husband wants is for you to stop laughing at him!”
“I think we can achieve that ONLY if you do the dishes all the time.” You smile, “with the same outfit you are wearing now.”
“I thought you said I was a stingy bitch for having rules.” you move one of your hands to trace down his apron.
“Oh you still are.” and you push him off you. Bakugou blushing caught off guard mess falls on his ass and you quickly run to your room and slam the door before he could do anything else. You take a deep breath falling onto your bed, the heat on your face is overwhelming and you curl into a ball.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
An hour passes and you step back into the living room after changing into fresh school clothes. “I’m going out early for a workout,” Bakugou says putting on his shoes. You quickly grab his training bag and hand it to him. “Ok, you don’t want breakfast?” you're kinda happy he’s leaving and acting like nothing is happening.
“No it’s fine.” he grabs his bag and gives you a kiss on the cheek before walking out notably quickly. You blush hearing the score go up another point marking you guys at having five. Maybe things didn't go back to normal.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
You and Midoriya are sitting in the common room, he is sitting extremely close to you as you said you wanted this to be top secret as you put it. “Do you remember how Bakugou gruesomely rejected me in middle school?”
“Yeah and you had sworn to me he was your number one enemy.”
“Well.. you know how he’s my Husband..” Midoriya nods, “He uh... Kissed me on the cheek this morning..”
“WHAT?” It looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head, “Our Kachan?”
“Don’t call him ours!” You hit his arm, and with an ouch, he held your hand down. Being both your self-proclaimed best friend, he’s had to watch this fake rivalry, and in his words, it’s been physically painful on him. As you both, without knowing, take your tension out on him, he has no complaints. This way, though, he knows more than both of you combined.
“What caused him to do that?” he lets go of your hand and you put your shoulder on his head.
“Shoto gave me this idea-”
“Shoto?”
“ANWAY! Shoto gave me this idea because Bakugou wanted nothing to do with this whole situation. It was to make this as competitive as possible. I threw you in there, and BAM! He’s in with a few rules, of course. He seemed not interested at all. I was doing things to get us points, and he just went along with it, with the most effort he could put in. I didn't do anything! He just did it.” He hums in agreement and lets you know he's listening and he starts braiding a strip of your hair. Just like when you were kids he lets you rant while he plays with your hair, it makes him think better when trying to come up with solutions for your problems. “He rejected me. I know I asked him just to take this a little bit seriously but that!? What does that mean? You're a boy what does that mean?!”
“What it means in simple boy logic is he likes you.”
“Simple boy logic?! He’s not a simple boy! He’s Bakugou!” He laughs at you.
“True. But Katchan wouldn't just do that.”
“I wouldn't just do what?” Speak of the devil, Bakugou walks in placing his bag on the table near you and Midoriya. He looks at the both of you. You two cuddled close with your head on his shoulder and Midoriya playing with your hair. This is normal. This has been normal since middle school but for some reason, the itch is back and his face gets hot with anger. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope! I was just leaving.” With that Midoriya stands up but you pull him back down.
“No, you weren't!”
“Yes, I was!”
“You both are a bunch of children.” Bakugou puts his two cents. Which weren't needed.
“Oh, were children? Let’s just bring up the chair, shall we?” You stand up, trying to intimidate Bakugou. To show that it doesn't work, he crosses his arms, but his shoulders are tense. “Or the fact that Midoriya here is points ahead of you.” Midoriya hearing his name be mentioned scoots away but you and Bakugou both give him a look and he stays still.
“Why should I care how much he has?!”
“Because someone can’t handle the fact he’s not number one at something! Clearly, he’s a better husband than you are.” Bakugou drops his arms in defeat. He’s ticked off, and it’s taking everything in him not to blow something up.
“If Deku is so great why don’t you be his wife!”
“I would but our points are so low I can’t!” Rolling his eyes he grabs his bag off the table and stomps off. You fall back down onto the couch and Midoriya itches back over to you.
“Well that could have been worse.” you kick him putting your face into your own hands.
“Shut up.”
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
Of all the days these training scenarios could have happened, today was the worst day. As All might put it, we had to work out balancing Hero work with your “partner.” The first scenario involves working on a team against another couple, and the second involves fighting a villain with a high risk of a “married couple” losing a partner, and we don’t know who is getting picked as the ‘victim.’ Your quirk and Bakugou’s quirk do NOT get along and the efforts to make them mash together at all are zero to none. Your quirk controls plants, much like Shiozaki but a lot more advanced. You can control all plants and the lighting effects which plants you can use and how effective they will be. If you make the plant prick someone you can give them a negative or positive association with the plant. Now you see why Bakugou and your quirk don’t mesh well together, he can set your pretty plants on fire. You and Bakugou got dropped into a dark area with pipes and wires all around you both. You have no way of knowing where the other team is which is Shoto and Yaoyorozu and that gives you guys a big disadvantage. You start growing cast iron plants and slowly they glide into the pipes and start exploring them meanwhile Bakugou grumbles around stomping trying to find anything that could give him an advantage. He doesn't and it causes him to let off some explosives which causes your plants to shrivel and burn. “What the hell man!”
“What?!”
“Don’t do that I’m trying to find them! And you're making them find us!”
“Can’t you use Mushrooms or something so I don’t gotta fucking tiptoe around your stupid plants?!” You glide the cast iron plants back through the pipes.
“Well, one mushrooms aren't plants they're fungi dumbass and two my plants aren't stupid!” you shiver, “found them.”
“You did?”
“Yep, and no thanks to you.”
“Shut it.” You start running, and Bakugou follows behind. As you run down the corridor, ice starts forming all around. “STUPID ICYHOT!” Bakugou yells blasting the ice that's made his way towards him and only him. You let out a frustrated sigh and start using Lampranthus to move you around the ice having it attach to your feet and arms. It was going well, You see Shoto and Yaoyorozu and move closer to them but Bakugou blasts toward them and past you causing the plant to shrivel and causing you to fall. You panic not knowing which plant in the moment could handle the intense elements. The fall is big and over huge ice. You close your eyes and hug yourself but you overhear Shoto yell something and Yaoyorozu yell something. Instead of landing on hard cold ice, you land on a... Oversized Teddy bear? You look up and see Shoto smiling at you and Yaoyorozu gives you a thumbs up. Bakugou was right next to you. It looks like Shoto got to saving you before he could and he’s fucking pissed. His shoulder tense and so does his jaw. “DIE!” Bakugou blasts toward them with Shoto making an ice shield but with the blast's heat it doesn't do well and causes the pair to fall back. Shoto quickly incases the room with ice and causes some ice to form around Bakugou’s hands giving them time to escape. “Fuck!” he stands still trying to get enough sweat but it doesn't work, “Mother fucker!”
“Chill out! You are the reason they got away with the stupid impulse attack!” you run up to Bakugou looking at his hands.
“OH, I’M THE REASON?!” he looks at you like you just wished hell on his mother. “You're the one that let the enemy team save you!”
“Yes, because did you hear me say, Hey Shoto, save me? NO!” You open up your palm and grow a Deadly nightshade. “When I say now, you take this and eat it,” you grow the cast iron plants, and from your feet, they sprout, moving around trying to find the other team. “Got them.” Ignoring Bakugou’s grumbling, you start running, which he follows admittedly. You stop putting your hand out to stop Bakugou and before he can say anything you put a finger to your lips shutting him up. He’ll get you back for it later. Bakugou looks down at you, the purple plant wrapped around your hand and fingers like it’s home. He finally takes a look at your hero outfit. So engrossed in the fight he doesn't even realize that the new one you have been designing has finally arrived and don't ask why he knows you've been working on one. The dark green shirt is tight onto your skin and the sleeves go down enough to make gloves. The cut of the shirt shows off your chest and all over the shirt is little lines the plants could hold onto. You went from pants to a black shirt which is now really noticeable to Bakugou. The skirt's top and bottom also has attachments for your plants. You’ve always complained about your shoes and how they don't support your quirk and if you ask Bakugou why he knows this little fact he’ll say you complained about it so much it’s bolted into his brain but the truth is you only complained once. You have heel boots now and a normal person wouldn't want heels on your costume but you made sure you had them. The heels of the boots have a hole at the bottom, so one of your plants could slitter down and into the ground instead of having holes on a flat shoe which has always made you and your plants uncomfortable. You also changed your hair, it's half up from its normal ponytail. Bakugou knows why you made this change and it’s all for your plants. “I’ll distract them. Now eat this and when you feel the sweat break free and attack.” You hand him the flower and by hand, you bring it up to his mouth and he bites down. “Don’t eat it yet.” and you run out. You start spreading out Caladium, or heart-to-heart. You make the plant swarm around Shoto and hold down Yaoyorozu. Which works for a minute before Shoto shoots ice around your feet not causing you to get stuck but causing your plant to wither and even wither underground which was holding down Yaoyorozu. “NOW BAKUGOU.” And Bakugou trusts you. Bakugou trusts you so he eats the plant. Bakugou trusts you so he starts getting hot and sweaty but he also starts getting dizzy. Either way, Bakugou runs out and with the fever running through him, he’s able to break free from the ice and because Bakugou trusts you he sends his quirk full force which knocks out Yaoyorozu completely and causes Todoroki to stumble You take advantage of the heat caused by his quirk and send out the plant again, the heart to heart plant wraps Yaoyorozu and Shoto capturing them. A ding goes off and an announcement is heard claiming you and Bakugou as the winners. You celebrate smiling and run up to Bakugou, and in his confused dazz he smiles back before passing out.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
Bakugou groans the pain in his head is unbearable. He turns his body and suddenly he smells… lavender? He slowly opens his eyes. He squints just seeing bright white and slowly his eyes adjust and see you. Your head is resting on your hand and your eyes are closed. Lavender is growing out of your hair and it's looped around like the flowers were meant to be there. He smiles taking a deep breath before, “Hey!” You open your eyes and his smile is gone, He regrets yelling as his head hurts right away.
“I am so sorry.”
“What are you on about?”
“I’m sorry! Aizawa chewed me out, and he’s right. I totally should have told you the repercussions of the flower you ate, and you wouldn't have taken it if I had. He took all our points as punishment, and if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be here, and we would be on to the next scenario training!” Bakugou stares at you, dazed.
“The fuck are you talking about? I trusted you so I ate it. Stop tweaking out, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't wanna. Simple.”
“But our points… and you won't get to train.” You grab your hair, causing some lavender petals to get all in it. Bakugou slowly sits up and starts picking the petals out of your hair.
“I said it’s fine, and we won anyway, so it's no big deal.” You smile at him.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
Never mind it was a big fucking deal because why the fuck is that stupid fucking Teddy bear in your dorm? Bakugou feels like the bear is staring at him tauntingly. “Why the fuck is that here?” he points at the teddy bear. You were in the kitchen cooking dinner and you peek your head out to see what he was talking about.
“After the battle, Shoto gave me it.” So while he was dead weight, Shoto comforted you and gave you the bear that saved you when he should have. That was the cherry on top.
“Shoto, Shoto, Shoto.” He mocks sitting on the couch, huffing like a child. That’s all I ever hear!” You let him pout like a baby and finish cooking dinner. You bring the plates out and sit in front of the couch, placing them on the table in front of you both. A point goes up on the board and you are back to one.
“And your problem is?” You look at Bakugou as he quickly starts eating. He shakes his head and he keeps eating so you reach over and grab the remote. Or you try and grab the remote. Bakugou catches your hand and gives you a glare.
“No remote until you get rid of that stupid teddy bear!” You roll your eyes and laugh. Standing up, you grab the bear and walk into your bedroom. Bakugou watches you intently. You throw the bear on your bed, and with its size, it takes up a lot of space. “Not on your bed!” You look at him quickly.
“Why!?”
“Because I said so!”
“You are crazy!” You shut your bedroom door and walked back over to the couch. “What is the issue?” He ignored you, and his hand was tense around the remote. “So protective of the remote,” you mocked, eating your food. You heard a grumble from him, and you two sat quietly, watching one of his shows and eating. After you two finished, you got up and grabbed the plates, suspecting that he’d keep being protective over the remote.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up?”
“Why?”
“Because you wanna hold onto the remote like it's life or death.”
“I’ll clean up, that’s my job.” He stands up with the remote. He goes to take the plates out of your hands but struggles with one of his hands being occupied. So he puts the remote to his mouth and he bites down and grabs the plates. You look at him funny.
“Are you for real right now?” Bakugou ignores you and walks into the kitchen. He starts cleaning. “You are so stubborn; it’s annoying.” You sit back on the couch and notice the point board showing two. You smile. Once Bakugou is done he comes and sits back down, he left the remote in the kitchen so you both are stuck watching the News. “I’m getting the remote. I don’t wanna watch this.” Before you can stand up Bakugou lays on on, you blush with your hands hovering over him. “Get up.” he ignores you. “Bakugou get up.”
“Katsuki.”
“What?”
“Call me Katsuki!” You stare at him before slowly placing a hand on his back.
“Why? I thought you didn’t care for the first-name bullshit.”
“Well, I’m tired of Todoroki getting the special privilege! I’m your husband, not him!” He sits up a bit, and your faces are close together. Your hand falls onto his.
“Alright, Katsuki.” He blushes and looks at the kitchen.
“Yeah, whatever Y/N.” You smile. He has had enough and gets up, walking into the kitchen. He comes back out and throws the remote at you before going into his room. The scoreboard shows five.
Tags and notes;
@andysdrafts @eyesforbkg @kukikoooo
#bakugou katsuki#bakugou smut#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha bakugou#bnha#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugo katuski#mha x reader#mha
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Moi Devochki: Chapter 2
Warnings: very minor angst bit, smut(grinding, groping, vaginal penetration), a/b/o content (marking, claiming, knotting)
Word count: 3606
WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Moi Devochki Masterlist
“Don’t you know how to knock?” the redhead questions, “Wait, why are you smiling like that?”
“I went to talk to Wanda and Y/n like you wanted.” she says
Nat furrows her brows, “And? Is the Alpha that's leaving scratches, bruises and hickeys on them a team member?”
Yelena chuckles, “It’s not an Alpha.”
“It’s a Beta?” Nat asks, surprised a Beta would be that expressive with their affections
“Each other actually” her younger sister tells her
Natashas eyes widened. It’s not that she didn’t approve of two Omegas being together, that wasn’t the case at all, as far as she was concerned people deserved to be with who they loved no matter their bearing. She just didn’t expect this, her jealousy for the non existent Alpha definitely clouded her spy senses in this instance because even though she, and she alone noticed the marks you both tried to cover due to her eyes constantly being on both of you, she couldn't figure out you were doing it to the other.
She just couldn’t see it, far too busy watching any other Alpha that came near you both with an angry glare and a longing for her to be the one touching you both. She realized if she didn’t make a move she had no right to be protective or jealous, but the truth was that the Alpha has wanted you both almost as long as she's known you. But she didn’t want to make a move while Wanda was grieving, and how does one make a move on two Omegas anyway. Then she noticed the bruises and bites beginning to show. She thought she was too late, that she waited too long.
“You're not messing with me? There's really not an Alpha?” the Alpha questions, afraid to get her hopes up that she still has a chance
The other Alpha shakes her head, “I wouldn't joke around or lie to you about something that involves your heart sestra(sister).”
Nat smiles then, a genuine smile that reaches her eyes and Yelena finds herself smiling as well. She hasn’t seen her sister smile like that since you and Wanda joined the team, and before that the last time was when they were pups on that mission in Ohio.
“Then I have to tell them. I can’t waste anymore time, even if I’m not the Alpha they want, I need them to know my feelings.” she says
“Well uh, just hang on. Because I didn’t actually talk to them. I just caught them, and I kind of told them that I wouldn’t tell anyone about what I saw, so…”
“And what exactly did you see?” Natasha asks, jealousy in her tone
Yelena chuckles, “Relax, it’s not like I meant to. I just went to talk to them and well, as soon as Y/n opened the door the scent was… well, it was very apparent they had just finished mating.”
Nat was torn between being concerned for the two of you getting caught by Steve, Bruce or Dr. Strange, and longing to know what your scents and noises were like when you were together.
The blonde clears her throat, gaining her sister's attention again, “My point is, how are you going to ask to be with them both if you aren’t supposed to know they're together?”
Her brows furrow, “Does it matter if you told me when you know I want them? It’s not like I’m going to tell the others or punish them. I want to ask them to be mine.”
Yelena thinks over her sisters words for a moment, “True, but I don’t want to seem like a liar. I don’t want them to lose trust in me.”
“I’m sure if I explained the situation they wouldn't be upset about anything.” Nat says, hopeful that her sister will just agree so she can go find the two of you
The younger of the two sighs, “Khorosho, prodolzhay (Fine, go on).”
The redhead practically jumps off her bed, making her way to her bedroom door. She quickly turns to look at her sister, “Wait, do I look ok?”
Yelena groans, “Oh for the love of- they've seen you covered in sweat, dirt, mud, blood, and alien blood and you're worried about how you look?” She blushes slightly but nods her head, Yelena rubs her forehead and looks at her sister. The Alpha is wearing some jeans, a long sleeve olive green shirt and has her long hair done in a braid. “You look perfectly fine Natasha.”
She smiles again before finally opening her door and heading down the hallway towards Wandas room. It takes everything in her not to run there. Once she arrives she takes a deep breath before knocking on the door.
Wanda groans as the two of you cuddle in her nest, “Now what.” she grumbles
You chuckle while sitting up, bringing her with you, “Better see who it is Wan.”
She reluctantly gets up and opens the door, “Oh, hi Natasha.” She tries to not appear nervous at the appearance of the sister of the Alpha that was here mere minutes ago, but the way she spins her rings gives her away.
“Hey Wanda. Mind if I come in to talk?” she asks, eyes not leaving the Omegas.
Wanda tries to think of a way to politely decline, afterall you're still in her nest and the room definitely still has hints of her scent from earlier. The Alpha can see the hesitation on her face and decides to help ease her.
“It’s ok, I know who’s in there and what happened.” she tells the Omega
Wanda, torn between being embarrassed, happy, and worried that the attractive Alpha in front of her knew this about the two of you, blushes and has to clear her throat before replying, “S-sure, come on in.”
You look up to see Wanda open the door for- oh god its Natasha. You quickly fumble to get out of the other Omegas nest, “Relax Y/n, you can stay there if you want.” the redhead says and for a split second you forget how to breathe. Though you aren't sure if that was due to being worried or excited that she seemed to know about you and Wanda.
Wanda, seeing the slight panic on your face, rejoins you in the nest. She holds your hand before addressing the Alpha, “Did Yelena send you to talk with us?” she asks, slightly saddened that the blonde told another Alpha despite promising not to
“No, she didn’t send me here but she did tell me because I actually sent her here earlier.” she admits. You both look at her in confusion as she takes a seat on Wandas desk chair.
“Really, why?” you ask
The Alpha suddenly looks nervous, “Over the last few months I’ve noticed that the two of you have had a lot of bruises, scratches and such. It made me think an Alpha was trying to make you both theirs. I didn’t like that idea, it made me jealous because I only noticed these things due to my inability to take my eyes off either of you. I’m always thinking about you both. What it would be like to hold your hands, to cuddle with you, to scent you, to wake up next to you both in the mornings, to be able to call you mine.” she admits
You give Wanda a smile and she nods her head before looking back at Nat, “Don’t wait any longer then, make us yours Tasha.”
Her eyes sparkle as she smiles at the nickname. She stands and makes her way over to Wandas nest. She gently grabs you both by your chins, lifting your faces to look at hers. She stares at both of you lovingly for a few seconds before her lips crash into Wandas. The kiss starts out soft but quickly gets heated and you're left there to watch, anticipation building to feel the Alphas lips on yours.
Eventually they break apart and Natashas lips meet yours, you quickly let her dominate the kiss by opening your mouth to her and she gladly deepens the kiss.
When she pulls back you can see how dilated her eyes are, and you notice the bulge in her pants. Wanda sees it too and both of you are practically begging for the Alpha. She can see the want in both sets of eyes that look at her, it makes her heart race.
“Please Alpha, we want you.” you finally cave, begging verbally now.
You and the other Omega eagerly begin to undress each other for Natasha, you toss each others shirts across the room in your excitement. The scent of your arousal mixes with Wandas in the air and the Alpha can barely contain herself, but she does. Slowly she settles between you both in the nest, Wanda straddles her lap and a smirk graces your features. Nat looks at you to make sure you're ok with this and you nod, eager to see them together as you help the Alpha learn all of Wandas sensitive spots.
Natashas hands caress Wandas sides as she makes her way to unclasp the Omegas bra. Wanda lets it fall from her chest, Nat gently touches her breasts and when she notices the nipples harden her touch becomes firmer and she gently squeezes. Wanda moans and grinds down on the Alpha who grunts upon feeling the Omegas ass rub against her clothed hard cock.
You lean into the Alpha, your hands slipping under her shirt. Your nails rake across her abbs, her head falls back as she lets out a moan of her own. You and Wanda take advantage of this position and begin to kiss and gently suck on Nats neck. Her breathing quickens and you know she's desperate to have you both.
Your gaze moves to Wanda, “Pants off for our Alpha, printsessa(princess).”
Wanda quickly stands to obey, and the Alpha can feel a warmth in her chest from you calling her ‘our Alpha’. She watches Wanda strip the rest of the way and can feel her cock throb in her pants. Wanda slowly crawls back into the nest and Natashas eyes look over to you. You smile as your hands reach for her jeans, she sighs as you undo them. She lifts her hips and you easily slide her pants and underwear off of her.
You can feel your slick pool between your legs as you take in the sight of the Alphas large cock. You watch as Wanda clenches her thighs together, likely feeling the same as you and Nat smirks as she sees both of your reactions. Wanda gently tugs on the Alphas shirt and she gets the hint, she quickly removes it. You and Wanda each reach a hand behind her back unclasping her bra.
She sits there a moment letting the two of you take in her body before the waiting becomes too much for her, “Come here dorogoy(sweetheart)” she says, gesturing for Wanda.
The Omega listens and straddles the Alphas lap once more, she hovers just above Nats cock. It takes a lot of the Alphas focus to not just thrust up into her, instead she takes two of her fingers and slips them through Wandas slick soaked lips. Wanda whimpers at the feeling and she watches as the Alpha sucks her fingers clean.
“You're ready for me, aren’t you dorogoy(sweetheart)?” she asks
Wanda nods her head, “Yes Tasha”
Natasha grabs the Omegas hips and gently lowers her until she feels herself slip inside. They both moan and Nat finds she can’t hold back anymore. Her arms encircle Wanda and she effortlessly flips them over. Now on top she thrusts herself in and out of Wanda at a faster pace. The Omega moans in pleasure and reaches a hand out for you.
You let her pull you closer, the Alpha watches as your lips pepper kisses and suck marks into Wandas collarbone. Upon seeing how much the Omega likes that spot Nat joins you. Wanda gasps and pants at the attention she's getting from you both, she whimpers and moans as Natashas cock pounds into her. She knows she won’t last much longer. You pull back, letting them have their moment.
She cups the Alphas face, “Knot me, claim me, please.”
Nat groans at hearing this and quickly kisses her tenderly, she quickens her thrusting and as Wandas walls begin to squeeze her she can feel her knot grow. It slams against the Omega a few times before she's able to slip inside. They both moan as the Alpha locks into place, Wanda can feel herself being filled with Natashas cum and she trembles as her orgasm washes over her.
The Alpha bites into one of Wandas scent gland and cleans her mark before pulling away, “Mine” she says
Wanda could cry she's so happy, instead she pulls Nat closer, sinking her teeth into her one scent gland, “My Alpha, my mate” she says before cleaning the mark.
While they're joined for the next few minutes your one hand caresses the Omegas cheek as the other runs up and down the Alphas back. Wanda purrs at the affection and Natasha hums as she enjoys having you both so close.
After her knot deflates Nat is slow to pull out of Wanda, not wanting any of her seed to spill. Wanda whines at the emptiness she now feels, the Alpha kisses her tenderly to offer comfort.
Your whine quickly brings her attention to you however. You sit there with your thighs clenched drenched in your own slick, you enjoyed watching them be together but you desperately want the Alpha to take you and claim you too. Wanda smiles as she watches the way Nat looks at you, it's the same way she looks at you.
Natasha crawls off of Wanda and over to you. She brings a hand up to your face and runs her thumb across your cheek. You lean into her touch, craving more. Her hands move to your bra clasp and she quickly rids you of it, then she tugs at the waistband of your pants.
“Take these off for me medovyy(honey)” she tells you. You purr at the nickname.
You gladly obey, you practically jump from the nest to finish undressing. You can feel Two pairs of eyes on you as you do so and you smile. You quickly rejoin them in the nest. The Alphas hands caress your sides as she guides you to lay down. She gently spreads your legs apart and slots herself between them. She practically moans at the amount of slick you've produced.
“Look how wet you are medovyy(honey). You liked watching me fuck Wanda, didnt you?” she asks with a smirk on her face.
You nod, “Yes Tasha.” you reply, the nickname Wanda used earlier slipping from your lips.
She smiles, lining herself up with your pussy. She slowly pushes into you and you moan at feeling her stretch you. She grabs your hips and begins thrusting in and out of you. Wandas hands cup your breasts and you can’t stop the whimpers and gasps that leave you as Nat continues her thrusts. You can feel a heat rush to your core as they both give you attention.
As Wanda begins to kiss and suck at your neck your legs wrap around the Alpha, bringing her closer and deeper into you. She grunts in response, she loves how well you both take her. She leans down and plants a heated kiss to your lips, you moan into it as her thrusts become faster.
Wanda knows you're close. She pulls away from you, giving you and Natasha your moment just as you had done with her. Your walls start to start to squeeze the Alpha and she moans at the feeling, her knot grows and you can feel it gently push at your entrance.
Her eyes meet yours, silently asking if she can knot you as well, “Please Alpha, I want your knot.” you answer
She smiles as her knot slips into you and locks into place. Your legs tremble as you both cum together, her seed practically pours into you and you moan at how full you feel of your Alpha.
She nuzzles your neck before biting into one of your scent glands, she quickly cleans her mark, “Mine.” she says
You smile before sinking your teeth into her other scent gland, you clean it before pulling away, “My Alpha.”
You stay together for a few minutes just as she and Wanda had, and just like you had the Omega caresses your cheek and Nats back. Eventually the Alpha slowly pulls out from you as well and lays back into the nest.
She looks at you and Wanda, “Come her moi devochki(my girls), come cuddle with your Alpha.”
You each snuggle into her sides, you and Wanda hold each others hands and Natasha runs a hand through Wandas hair, her other running through your hair. You both purr at her affection.
Suddenly the Alpha can feel tears from both her Omegas hitting her skin. She panics briefly, worried that somethings wrong or that she's done something wrong.
“My Omegas, what's wrong?” she asks as she gently guides your faces to look at hers
Wanda shakes her head, “Nothings wrong Alpha, we’re just really happy.”
“We’ve wondered what it would be like to have an Alpha for a while now, but until we met you we never wanted a specific Alpha.” you add
“We were worried you wouldn't accept us loving each other or that you'd only want one of us if you even wanted either of us at all.” Wanda adds
Natasha looks at you both, her hands cup your and Wandas cheeks, “Moi devochki(my girls), I have wanted you both since I first laid eyes on you. I knew I wouldn’t be happy without having you both by my side, I knew you were the Omegas meant for me. You have no idea how happy it makes me now to be able to call you mine.” she admits a few tears of her own escaping
Wanda leans in and kisses your Alpha who eagerly returns the kiss, they break apart and rest their foreheads together.
“I love you Tasha.” the Omega says
Nats smile is huge, “I love you too Wanda”
They pull apart from each other and you take Wandas place on Nats lips.
Your smile matches your Alphas, “I love you Tasha”
“I love you too Y/n.” she says as she pulls you and Wanda back into her sides. “And I know you two love each other too, so I want you to be able to bond. Don’t worry about anyone's reactions to it ok? I promise I’ll make sure no one lays a hand on either of you, and I’ll be damned if anyone could take either of you away from me. I’ll keep you both safe.”
Wanda looks at you excitedly as you look up at your Alpha, “You really mean that? You’d let us mark each other?”
“Of course I would, we’re all each others mates afterall.” she answers
Wanda suges forward capturing you lips with her own, Nat chuckles as she watches you struggle to keep up with the intensity of the kiss.
“I want you now printsessa(princess), please.” you beg as she pulls away from you.
She nods eagerly, “I want you too detka(baby), can’t wait to make you mine.”
You lay back for her, Natasha watches as she crawls over to you. One hand teases a nipple as her other makes its way through your folds, you’ve already produced enough slick that she easily slips two fingers inside you. You moan and grind your hips into her hand.
“Please printsessa(princess), I need more” you say
She complies by slipping a third finger into you, she pumps them in and out of you at a faster pace. Nat brings her hand to Your neck, her thumb brushes against the scent gland she marked and you can barely contain yourself. Your walls tighten around her fingers and she knows you’re close, she brings her thumb to circle your clit and your orgasm quickly washes over you.
she leans down and bites into your unmarked scent gland, the pure happiness you both feel as she marks you is indescribable. She's waited so long and was never sure she’d be able to do it. She pulls away after cleaning her mark and smiles at you, “You're my Omega Y/n, just like you always said I would be.”
You smile before bringing her closer, you bite into her unmarked scent gland. You clean it before letting her go, “And you're my Omega.”
The two of you rest your foreheads together as you both shed more tears of happiness, Your Alpha quietly and fondly watches you both enjoy this moment and she's so happy she was able to let you both have this. You both deserved to be able to bond with the other. The love you shared was so pure and wholesome, it should've been illegal to keep the two of you apart.
The two of you pull apart and find yourselves being scooped into your Alphas hold, she pulls you close to her before she lays back, relaxing once more. You and Wanda settle into her sides again as you both purr. The Alpha enjoys hearing you both, she soaks up the sound as the three of you drift off to sleep.
Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2 @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @mommyluvu @404-almostdone @tarathia @ayoungexwife
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha x y/n#natasha x reader#alpha!natasha#alpha!nat#alpha!natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff x reader#omega!wanda maximoff#omega!wanda#wandanat#wandanat x reader#wandanat x y/n#wanda x natasha#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#a/b/o fanfic#a/b/o fic#a/b/o universe#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o
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Lock your windows
Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader
Genre: smut, "dark" romance
Word count: 1.8k
Summary: After a discussion with your experimental boyfriend, you two are able to play out one of your long awaited fantasies
Warnings: MDNI, "stalker" wooyoung, role playing?? oral (m/f receiving), fingering, mention of a safe word, it seems noncon but just read til the end please trust me😭
Network: @newworldnet
A/n: idk why but the idea of wooyoung being a stalker is so hot to me. I also know he would be such an experimental partner to have, it's driving me insane. I need him so very badly
You and your friends screech in laughter as someone says something hilarious. You and your friend group have been out for a couple hours now, drinking, eating, shopping, just having the best night out ever. The air is warm and stale, the humidity making your hair puff up in frizziness.
As you stumble along the path in your black high heels and sparkly silver dress you stand out, like a shiny pearl in the ocean. The glitter makes shadows on the dimly lit walls, making the light bounce off. You start laughing at something again when you suddenly stop.
A shiver slithers up your spine and makes the hairs of your nape stand up in alarm. Your friends realize you’re not following them anymore and they stare in confusion. They ask if you’re ok but you’re too busy looking around, trying to find the source of the eerie feeling.
You can’t seem to find anything in the shadows and tentatively take steps forward. Your friends look at each other with raised eyebrows but choose to shrug it off. You keep walking but you don’t say anything until you reach your doorstep. They say goodnight and leave you to your apartment.
You walk in and throw yourself on the cushiony couch, resting your eyes from exhaustion. You tap your foot quietly and hum a random tune that’s been stuck in your head all day when you hear a distant clatter from the direction of your bedroom and your eyes shoot open and foot stops tapping. You stand up curiously and walk towards your room.
As you walk in you can feel a cold breeze and you blink in confusion. You see that your window is wide open, blinds pulled apart. You don’t remember leaving your window open but you must’ve been in a rush and didn’t even realize. You shake your head at your inattentiveness and close it shut. You return to your spot on the couch and shut your eyes once more.
There’s clattering coming from the same direction again and you sit up in alarm this time. You warily go to your room, trying to inspect what the noise is. You see the window is open again, making the curtain billow in the wind.
“What the fuck.” You exclaim. You’re convinced you’re going crazy. You’re sure you closed it, but maybe the day is really getting to your head. You take a step and are thrown down to the ground in an instant. You gasp from the impact, managing to catch yourself on your elbows, but your knees are on fire from the carpet burn.
You try to turn on your back and find that your movements are restricted from a weight on your lower back. It feels like a boot is pressing you down, pushing the air out of your lungs. You breathe in tightly and your whole body tenses. You whimper in pain and the pressure lifts a little and you sigh in relief.
“Hi my love, we finally meet.” The stranger speaks with a low tone.
“W-who are you?” You wheeze out.
“I’m your lover of course, who else would I be?” He says matter of factly. You furrow your eyebrow in confusion.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” You try to talk without your voice betraying your fear. He chuckles at that and completely removes his boot.
“Oh you’ll understand what I mean soon.”
He reaches down to turn you over. As you lay on your back in the dark room, you observe his face as best you can, the only light provided being the single lamppost outside. He has long jet black hair and dark glimmering eyes. His nose has a perfect point and his mouth is turned up at the corners in a sneer.
He also studies you in turn. Your beauty up close does not compare to the months of watching you from afar. The hundreds of photographs hanging in his room pale in comparison. He’s filled with so much pure excitement at seeing you face to face finally.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. For the day I get to caress your face, for the day I get to hear your sinful noises brought out by me. I’ve been very, very patient and this is my reward.” He looks into your eyes deeply, as if he’s mentally willing you to believe his words.
You feel a shiver go up your spine as you realize that the man is completely serious. He truly believes his delusions and it isn’t up for a discussion. He looks down at his silver watch, as if he’s on a mission. With a growing dread and arousal you realize that he is on a mission.
You are the mission.
You continue to stare at him with wide, fearful eyes as he straddles your still form. He leans into your neck and just stays there, nose taking in your scent deeply. He inhales and exhales and groans quietly. With his mouth muffled against your collarbone, he speaks.
“I can just smell the arousal coming off of you. You really love this huh.” You let out a small whimper at that and he raises his head.
“Don’t worry angel, Wooyoung is here to take care of you. I got you.” He speaks with a promising tone.
He leans in once more and he can feel your rapid heartbeat, which only aids in exciting him further. He kisses you with ease, almost intimately, caressing your bare arms and leaving goosebumps in his wake. You try to use your knee to push him off and he growls into your open mouth. The sweet kiss turns into an animalistic one. He gropes your breasts and kisses you breathless. As he rocks back and forth across your abdomen you can feel his growing bulge.
You feel your cunt throb emptily, needing something you’re too ashamed to admit. You submit to his feverish kisses and try to relax your body. He notices the change and grins in response.
“There you are, my love. Let’s get to the bed, shall we? I’d rather take you on a softer material.” He mockingly pouts and furrows his eyebrows. He lifts you up with ease and gently sets you on the bed. His hands settle underneath your shirt, slightly tickling your stomach. You squirm in hopes that he touches you sometime soon, or else you’ll explode.
He trails down your body, reaching your flimsy shorts and teasingly blows air on you. You buck your hips instinctively and he holds you down, clucking his tongue in disapproval.
“Nuh uh baby, I thought you were gonna be good for me?” He cocks his head sideways, questioning you.
“Yes, yes, I will, I promise.” You babble, feeling fucked out already.
He gives you a soft smile and rubs your thighs soothingly before landing a harsh smack. Your body jolts in reaction but you manage to hold in your yelp. Without wasting another second he pulls your shorts aside and dives in.
You muffle your moan into the palm of your hand, feeling like you need to scream. The stimulation is making you feel relief but so much torture at the same time. Wooyoung’s expert tongue is lapping up your slick, almost like a hungry animal and when he looks up at you, his gaze is as sharp as a predator.
His finger finds your clit with ease and twists and pulls as you mewl pathetically. Not once does he come up for air, he practically buries his head in your pussy, prodding his tongue into every crevice.
“You taste so sweet mmhh.” Wooyoung moans into your pussy, sending vibrations up your body. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you even closer. You have to bite on your hand now to keep yourself quiet. He slightly bites down on your clit and you let out a shriek. Your body jolts up and you cum with a shuddering breath.
He finally removes himself from you and stares down at the state of your cunt. It’s a sopping wet mess, covered in spit and slick. His face is also covered in your juices, and he greedily licks up what he can. You close your eyes in an attempt to recover, but it’s interrupted by his fingers.
He rams two fingers deep into you until he’s knuckle deep. He finds your g-spot immediately and you see stars, making you hold on to his wrist in a desperate attempt, but he simply pins your hand to your side. You grind your hips deeper into his fingers, needing to feel more. He reads your mind and adds in a third finger.
You moan at the stretch and clamp around him. He looks at your face intently, watching your screwed up face of pleasure. He wastes no time adding a final fourth finger. You gasp at the sensation and convulse from the intensity. Your whole body shakes as you reach the peak of your climax. You cry out and gush around Wooyoung’s slender fingers and he fucks you through your orgasm.
You groan lightly, feeling the energy escape your body. Wooyoung softly caresses your stomach to bring you down and you close your eyes and breathe out. He crawls to you slowly, and you open one eye from feeling the dip of the mattress.
Wooyoung takes your hand and puts it over his hardened bulge. He grinds into your hand slowly, letting out groans of satisfaction. Due to your exhaustion he chooses to go easy on you. He pulls down his pants and gets closer to your awaiting mouth. He slides in slowly, only going halfway. You let your mouth go slack and have him use you gently. He moves in and out, poking the inside of your cheek occasionally. You land a soft hand on him once more and attempt to help out. He throws his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm mouth.
With a few more soft thrusts he pulls out of your mouth and cums all over your breasts. Once he comes down from his high he grabs towels to clean you up. He gently dabs at your used cunt and slick thighs, including your now cum stained breasts. You feel sleep calling your name and let out a content sigh. Wooyoung notices and lets out a giggle whilst cuddling up to your side.
"Thank you for trusting me baby." He expresses his gratitude by giving small pecks to your face.
"I told you I wouldn't have to use my safe word. You were perfect." You mumble, only half awake.
"I know love, but it's always good to be prepared. It would kill me if I ever hurt you." He speaks reverently, like you're a goddess to worship.
You give him a grunt of acknowledgement to let him know you're still listening even though your tired body is screaming for sleep. Wooyoung looks at your serene face, remembering how wild and frenzied you had looked only moments prior. Before you're completely out he leans down to whisper in your ear.
"I guess this is what happens when you don't lock your windows baby."
#ateez#mingtinysworld#ateez smut#ateez fic#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#wooyoung#ateez wooyoung#wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung
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Summary: When reader’s sister is in town to introduce her new beau, all it takes is one drunken night for it to all come crashing down.
Pre-warning: THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN CHEATING. Please do NOT read if you are not fully comfortable with this topic.
Warnings: SMUT18+, CHEATING, Colby cheats with reader, swearing, mentions of alcohol, reader drinking, drunk reader, low key flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, unprotected sex, rough actions, choking, biting, scratching, hair pulling, ANGSTY, cream pie, fingering, oral (f rec), period and pregnancy talk, mentions of puking, general spice
Disclaimer: I am 100% against cheating. If you cheat on anyone, you’re an awful person. This one shot is 100% fictional and for entertainment purposes only! Nothing about this is real.
Word count: 7.4k | not edited
Enjoy!
╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
“Another one?” You laughed into the phone and your mother sighs, “Y/n, sweetie. Be nice. She seems to be serious about this one, this time.”
You laugh slightly, “Mm. I’m sure. She was serious about the last three.”
You loved Mara, your sister, but one thing about her that really bothered you, was that she cycled through guys like a carnival ride. One month she’s in love the next, no guy can ever treat her right.
Blah, blah, blah..
But you’re always there for her, so you’ll be there for her with this one, “Did she tell you who it was?” You ask as you sit up, putting your mom on speaker so you can start packing.
“No, she won’t tell me a thing. I keep asking her for things but all she keeps saying it’s a surprise. Um, she did though, at one point say that you’ll understand why it’s a surprise, but that’s it.”
You pull your suitcase out from your closet, “Hmm.” You walk back over to plop it down on the bed, “That’s so weird. I actually have no idea.”
Your mom hums, “Yeah I have no idea.” She sighs, “So your flight gets in at what time?”
“Eleven a.m. Don’t be late.” You tease and she laughs, “Six months without seeing either of my girls is like six long lifetimes. I promise we won’t be late.”
You tear up slightly at her words, “I’m so excited to come home for a little bit. I miss my mommy.” You laugh and she sniffles, “Yeah. I miss my baby girls.”
You smile and sigh, “Alright well before we get anymore emotional, I’ll see you in a few hours. I love you.”
“I love you. See you soon, baby.”
Your mom hangs up and you get to packing. You hated it, and as much as you tried to stop the habit, you always found yourself packing at one of the very last minutes.
Mara said she was talking to someone new, but was very, very vague with the details about him. No matter how hard your pried and how often you asked, she never gave up anything.
You did know one thing, though. Your sister was pretty, so you knew that who ever the poor sap dating your sister was, wasn’t ugly.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
Your flight was getting in two hours earlier than your sisters, but by the time you make it to their house, you’d only have an hour to talk shit with your mom and get caught up on the latest hometown drama.
“No!” You exclaim as you slam your hand on the counter, “She got pregnant with her bosses baby, and baby daddy didn’t know the baby wasn’t his until the birth?”
Your mom nods, “I guess her baby daddy knew she was screwing around prior and had his mind set way before anything.”
“That’s absolutely crazy.” You shake your head and stand up, “I think Mara and her secret boyfriend will be here soon. I’m going to run to the bathroom quick.”
She nods, looking down at her phone, “Oh, they’re pulling into the driveway now.”
You nod and make your way to the bathroom. As you’re washing your hands after, your heart literally felt like it detached from inside your body when you think you hear a certain someone’s voice.
You dry your hands and crack the door, pressing your ear to the slight opening and you hear your dad laugh, “Oh, so like a real life ghostbuster.”
“I mean.” The guy you’re really listening to speaks, “My best friend Sam-“
You close the door and press your back against it, hand gripping the knob so hard your knuckles turn white.
Your heart feels like it isn’t even in your body anymore.
You had no idea how this was happening, how he is here, in your parents house with your fucking sister of all people.
Colby. Brock.
The guy in high school you thought you were going to marry. The guy in high school you snuck out to see at midnight. The guy you gave your V card in the back of your car in high school to.
Your mind was spinning. Your heart was back in your chest and racing hard.
Would he remember you?
He has to know that you’re Mara’s sister, right? There’s no way she could keep him from knowing, you’re posted on her socials.
“Y/n?” Your mom calls at the end of the hall, “Are you coming back out?”
Before you can answer, your sister yells, too, “Yeah, come give your big sissy a hug! I’ve missed you!”
You roll your eyes, opening the door, “I’ll be out in a second.” You close the door and look at yourself in the mirror. There’s no way Mara knew you dated Colby, hell. You didn’t even tell your parents.
It’ll be fine, you convince yourself, it’ll be fine. Just act normal.
You take a deep breath, opening the door. You walk out and slowly walk down the hall. Act normal, you remind yourself, standing up straighter and putting a smile on your face right beside you round the corner.
Yep. That’s Colby, and for some reason, he looked just as shocked as you felt.
Your sister pulls you into a hug, holding you tighter, which only makes you feel more guilty when you don’t drop your stare from Colby’s.
“You look so good!” She cups your cheeks, “I hope this wasn’t, too short of a notice, this was the only time I could get off work.” She steps back and moves next to Colby.
He slings his arm around her waist and you bite down on your cheek. You couldn’t lie and say that you missed his touch. You both really didn’t know what you were doing in high school, but he was still better than some of the fucks you’ve had back where you live now.
God, you wanted him bad. You knew you couldn’t have him, and that’s why these feelings were so intense, right?
You mentally shrug yourself out of your thoughts and move into the living room with everyone else as Colby, what it feels like to you, catches you up on his life.
You feel your heart racing in your chest, trying to keep that sick feeling down as you avoid looking at Colby in any certain way.
You knew if you looked, you wouldn’t be able to look away. He looks, fuck. Beautiful now. He’s tall and a lot more muscular than the last time you seen him.
He was.. dare you say, a work of art?
You knew these next two weeks were going to be hard, especially living under the same roof as the very first person you ever fell in love with.
He didn’t know you liked him that much, so it didn’t really hurt him as much when things ended - or so, it seemed like he was okay.
The last three days, you found that Mara is very, very clingy with Colby. You didn’t want to assume or anything, but you kind of thought you picked up on her doing that when you were around them.
You didn’t really think anything of it, so you just moved on from it. You called up one of your friends and planned a night out with a few of your other old friends.
“What are your guys plans tonight?” Your mom asks as she walks into your room. You sit up, looking down at your phone, “I’m actually going to get ready to go to Tayla’s here soon. I’m going out with a few of my old friends from here.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” She smiles, “Your father and I have a work dinner benefit thing and then we’re going out for drinks, so don’t forget to take your key. I don’t know when we’ll be home.”
You nod and your sister walks in, “Did I hear you’re going out tonight with Tayla?”
You laugh, “Yeah. I am.” You look up at her and she tilts her head, “Do you think Colb and I can tag along? We’ve been looking for something to do.”
You see your mom look from your sister to you and you nod, “Yeah, no. That’ll be so fun!” You smile, “I’m going to Tay’s to get ready, but we can all just ride together?”
She smiles as she nods, “I’ll go tell Colby to get ready.”
“I know you probably think I don’t know.” Your mom leans in and your heart drops as she whispers, “But Lesa and I have been close for years, and you know us mom.. we talk.”
You look up at her and she tilts her head, “You still like him don’t you?”
All you can do is nod, but you go right into quietly pleading and begging her not to say anything to anyone, “Please don’t say anything.” You repeat for the fourth time, “I know you said moms talk or whatever, but this.” You shake your head, “Is not for your gossip. I don’t want to hurt Mara like that.”
She brushes hair from your face and sighs, “I know how you’re feeling, sweetheart. I know I didn’t want anyone saying anything, so don’t worry.”
You look up at her and smile, “Thanks, mom..” you sigh, “I have to get my stuff around.”
She smiles, giving your head a quick kiss before she nods, “Be safe tonight. Call if you need a ride.”
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
You kept the whole thing about Colby in from everyone but your mom. You got lucky in the mom department with that one.
Getting around with Tayla wasn’t easy, mainly because she can still read you like a book, “Seriously, y/n. Are you okay?”
You lean back from putting your mascara on, looking over at her, “Yes, T. I’m good. I promise.” You look back at the mirror, “do you have that one top? The black halter top looking one?”
She nods, getting up to grab it, “Can I ask a question?” She reaches out to hand it to you and you look up at her, nodding as you take it.
She walks back over and sits down on her bed. She hesitates for a second, “Is it because Colby is here with your sister?”
You furrow your brow, “Um, no. Why would that be-“
“Because you have a history with Colby.”
You scoff, “Holy fuck. Does everyone know that Colby and I screwed around in high school?” You shake your head and look down.
Tayla moves to the end of the bed and laughs, “You told me yourself, y/n. At the senior bonfire. You admitted you were falling in love with him after one too many shots.”
You laugh slightly, “Yeah.” You nod, “Yeah, that sounds about right.” You scratch your neck and look over at her, “Okay. I’m actually glad you said something because I’ve been dying to talk about this.”
After an hour of filling her in while she got ready, she looked at you, “So he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him?”
You nod, “He looked like I’m who he wasn’t expecting.” You shrug, “It was weird, it’s all weird actually.” You laugh and groan, “Out of all people, why him? She couldn’t have just left this one alone.”
“Did she or does she know that you and him used to..” Tayla trails off and you shake your head, “Well.. I hope not. If she did, she probably would have said something..”
Your phone goes off and you look down, “They’re ready.”
As you pull up to the house, you look over at Tayla, “Please don’t say anything about it.” She nods, “I won’t. I promise.”
You look over, your heart skipping a beat when you see Colby. His chest slightly exposed from his shirt not being buttoned up all the way. The chains that are hanging from his pants, sway with each step.
He looked so good, you were basically drooling for him.
“Hey.” Tayla nudges you, “Take a picture.” She laughs, “it’ll last longer.”
“Oh my god.” You mumble as you slump down in the seat, “Just.. put me out now.” You hear the back door open and you sit up straight, clearing your throat and your sister and Colby get in.
“Heeey, Tay. How are you?” Mara asks as she closes the door. Tayla nods, “I’m good, how are you?” Mara nods, smiling as she looks at Colby, “I’m good. So, Tayla. This is Colby, Colby. Tayla.”
Colby nods, “Yeah, I remember Tayla from school.”
Oh fuck. Your heart anxiously skips a beat.
“Wait, I know you’re from here, too. But if you went to school with Tayla, then you went to school with-“ Mara points at you and you nod, “I thought you knew that Colby graduates with me and Tay?”
“It must have slipped my mind because I graduated high school before you became a freshman.” Mara gives you slight attitude and you raise your brows, “You good, Mar?”
She nods, “Yeah. Why?”
You shake your head, “Nothing, it just.. sounded like you were coming at me for a second.” She laughs, trying to cover up her obvious jealousy, “No, it’s just a really small world, isn’t it.”
You laugh slightly, glancing over at Tay before nods, “It sure is.”
Colby knew you were talking to him.
“So what bar are we going to?” Colby asks with hopes of trying to break the tension. Tay sighs, “Well, I was thinking that we’d try a new one? They just opened one over on Saint Elm, it looks pretty good.”
“Are you talking about that bar you sent me yesterday?” You ask and she nods. You look back at them, your words almost getting caught when you looked at Colby, “Is that okay with you guys?”
They both nod and Tayla takes you guys there. You were actually relived to get out of the car and away from the clearly awkward small talk.
You grabbed Mara’s hand and pulled her back away from Colby and Tayla, “Hey. I didn’t know that you didn’t know Colby went to school with me.”
She sighs, “Y/n. Can we no-“
“No, we’re doing this now because I don’t want you to have a bad night, okay? I knew Colby from band, that was it. There’s actually someone back home that I’ve been talking to, okay. So there’s no reason you need to get snippy with me.” You laugh and you laughs, glancing up at Colby, “I just..”
She looks back up at you, “I’m not used to being with someone who’s so.. famous like Colby is. I’m always thinking that every girl is trying to get him.”
You laugh slightly, “I’m sure it isn’t easy. But it’ll get better. Colby, from what I remember from high school-“
Which is a lot more than you’re leading on.
“And from what I see on social media.” You shake your head, “I don’t think he’s the type of person to fuck you over.”
She sighs, “Thank you.” She pulls you into a hug, “Yeah, I told mom that you’ll know why I hid it, since you watch their videos and all.”
Watch their videos and all, yeah. Not like you had Colby’s dick in you first or anything.
“Oh yeah.” You turn, pulling her with you towards Tayla and Colby, “It makes sense now.” Tayla gives you guys a thumbs up, “We good here?”
You nod, “Yeah. We’re good.”
“Great, because I need a drink.” Tayla turns and walks into the bar. Mara snaps, “Oh shit. Colby.” She looks at him, “I totally forgot to ask you, would you be willing to drive us back to mom and dads?”
Colby nods, “I already planned on having to.” He smirks, looking between you and Mara. You smirk and walk towards the door, going inside to find Tayla and your other friends who were meeting you here.
You were doing pretty well at keeping your resurfaced feelings for Colby suppressed, but as the night goes on, and with help but the alcohol you keep putting in your body, your wandering eyes happen more often and you just slowly start to not care.
Everyone else was wasted, well. Everyone but Colby.
And he had his eyes on you, too.
You really did care about Mara, but Colby wasn’t helping matters with the way his pupils dilated when he looks at you.
You start thinking about how to get him alone and that’s your cue to bring up something about going on, “Alright. Once I finish this.” You point to your glass, giggling as you lean forward to grab it, “I’m.. done. I’m tired.”
“Aww.” Your friends pout, “We barely see you anymore, y/n.” “Yeah, come on stay out please.” “Please one more drink!” “One more shot!”
“Fine. One more drink.” You laugh, enjoying your friends praise you and Colby takes note real fast of that kink.
You slurp down that drink and stand up, “Alright. Who is my DD? I’m leaving.” You start walking towards the door and Mara and Tayla come running after you, laughing as they cling to your arms.
They were both absolutely shitfaced.
You were borderline blackout - anymore and you’d be a goner.
“You’re the best sister ever.” Mara slurs as she lays her head on your shoulder. You look down at her, quickly looking back to make sure Colby is behind you, and his eyes are on you.
You give him a smile and look back down at Mara, “No, you’re the best sister ever.” Tayla sighs, stopping outside of her car, “I need to go to sleep.”
You laugh, “I feel that.” You walk to the passenger side and Mara whines, “Tay.” You look at Tayla and smile, “You wanna sit in the back with Tay?”
Mara nods, her eyes closed, “I love her.”
You laugh, moving to the back door and opening, “Okay. In we go.” You and Tay get Mara in the car before you help Tay in. She pats your face, “You need to come back home more. I miss you.”
You nod, “I will come home more.” You buckle her up and shut the door, your drunkenness quickly blowing away as you get into the passenger seat.
You would have sat in the back, but you didn’t feel like moving Mara’s legs.
“Ready?” Colby asks and you nod, “Yeah, they’re good.” He puts the car in drive and starts heading back to your parents house, “Are you good?”
He asks that question a little quieter and you know he’s not just talking about the situation right now, “Uh.” You clear your throat quietly, “Yeah. Yeah.” You look over at him and he looks at you as he comes to a stop at the red light.
You looked away as you see the red light creep onto his face and you have to look away or else you’ll do something you really know you shouldn’t do.
It’s pretty much quiet, except for the snoring from the two girls in the back. They passed out as soon as their asses hit the seat.
“Did you have fun?” Colby asks, breaking the slightly awkward silence. It’s only really awkward because of who is sitting in the back. If it was just you and him, that’d be a different story.
“I did.” You look over at him, “That was until I realized how drunk these two were.” You point your thumb towards the back, “So now, I’m just tired.”
Colby nods, “Yeah. I expected to not stay out this late, but I should know by now who you guys are.” He chuckles and you scoff quietly with a smirk, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Colby smiles, and fuck. It’s insane how fast you still just melt into the seat for him.
“Party girl, y/n. Ever since high school.” He bites down on his lip and you know his mind went to that memory of you and him sneaking off at Friday night party because yours went there, too.
“You started that.” You point to him, “So, that isn’t on me.” You laugh quietly and you would have swore it was just you and him again, but the loud snort that came from one of the sleeping drunks, robs you of that being true.
“Mhm.” Colby smirks as he parks the car, “You get one I’ll get the other?” You rest your head back, closing your eyes as you prepare to drag Tay’s body into the house.
You sigh, opening your eyes to find his already on yours. You feel a heat rising in your cheeks and you nod, “Let’s get it over with.”
You get out, finding your key before opening Tay’s door. You lean over, looking up at Colby as you both lean in to unbuckle the girls.
Fuck you wanted to kiss him again - No, no.
You shake your head and lean back, pulling Tayla’s seatbelt with you. You see a slight look of disappointment on Colby’s face as you glance up at him.
Before he can say anything, you start to pull Tayla from the car, “C’mon, T.” She groans, resting your head on your shoulder.
You spin around and close the door, making sure your grip is tight on her as you walk her up the sidewalk to the front door of the house, “Alright, hey. I have to unlock the door, okay?”
Tay starts to giggle, “You do..” she pokes your cheek, “What-whatevvveer it is you got ta do.” She laughs and looks over at Colby and Mara, “MarMar!”
You laugh as you push the door open, “Oh my god.” You shake your head, motioning for Tayla, “Come on. You have to be quiet.”
“Quiet.” Tayla repeats in a hushed whisper, “Got it.” She walks in with you guiding her, Colby following with a now grumpy Mara.
She groans, trying to push away from Colby, “m-mm. I can- I can do it myself.” Colby sighs, “alright.”
You glance back, watching as Mara tries to remove her still buttoned jacket. You laugh to yourself, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.
“Stay here.” You look at Tay and she nods, “Yes ma’am.”
You roll your eyes, laughing as you make your way to your sister, bending down to unbutton the last button on her jacket, “Alright. There. Now come on. Follow Tay.”
“Tay!?” She looks up and gasps, “She’s still here!”
You give Colby a look and shake your head as you sigh, laughing as you walk back to Tayla, “Alright, can you do the steps?”
Tay nods, but in reality, it was a dreadful, ten minute stair climb. Once you were up the steps, you kicked open the door to the room you stayed in as a kid.
Colby takes Mara to her old room and then you both eventually meet out in the hall.
You pull the door closes behind you, making sure to be as quiet as possible. You turn, freezing when you see Colby walk out of Mara’s, doing exactly what you did.
He turns, freezing when he sees you.
You kick your heels off, pushing them out of the way before you just walk past Colby and down the steps, but he’s hot on your trail, “Y/n.” His voice is quiet, “Hey. Please.”
You make your way into the kitchen, flipping on the lights above the sink, giving you more than just the moonlight pouring through the windows.
You turn, looking at him as he walks through the door, “What are we doing, Colby?” You press one of your hands to your cheek, “Y-you’re with my sister.. but th-“
You stop talking, shaking your head, “You’re with my sister.”
“But what?” He asks and you look up at him, “You’re with my sister. So, it doesn’t matter.”
“You had me first, y/n.”
His words catch you off guard, all you can manage to shoot back is a sharp, “so?”
You can tell he wasn’t sure where he was going with that either, but he shakes his head, “I knew you were Mara’s sister. I know what we have in the past, frankly.” He shrugs, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we broke up.”
“The day you and Sam moved to LA.” You correct, shooting a smirk at him.
He sighs, smirking, “The day I ruined your life, alright.”
You laugh, pointing to him, “There ya go.”
He rolls his eyes, “Still the same fucking fire you had in you when you were eighteen.”
You smile, cheeks turning darker, “I’ve missed you.”
The words feel like they’ve barely left your tongue. Your voice was so quiet, you didn’t think Colby heard until you feel his hand slide over top of yours.
“I wish you knew how much I want to message you each time I see you like my posts.” His thumb brushes over your skin, “How much I just want to call you, talk to you. Catch you up on everything in between that day and now, stuff you don’t see on social media.”
You feel like you could puke.
Colby’s unexpected confession has your nerves zipping back and forth at high speed, “I-I don’t..” you sigh, trying to calm yourself down, “Colbs.”
He smirks at the nickname you gave him in high school as you try to stay focused, “I-..” you sigh, “You’re with my si-“
He cuts you off, words coming out fast, “Say the word and I’ll be with you.”
You stand there in silence as you stare at him.
You knew what you wanted to do, but you also knew that what you wanted to do, was one of the absolute worst things you could possibly do.
But, you do it anyway.
Your hand drags along the grey marbled island top as you walk around the thing that’s standing between you and Colby.
Inches from each other, you look up at him. His hand slowly reaches up to caress your face, and as soon as his touch meets your skin, that’s the last sign of gentle you saw for a while.
His hand moves down to your neck, gripping tightly before your lips were on his. Your hands work at your jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing the zipper down before your push them down your thighs.
Your hands slide up Colby’s chest, moaning quietly and he bites down on your lip.
His other hand moves to your hip, pushing you to spin so he can lift you up onto the counter. He pulls your jeans down, letting them fall to the floor and your thighs immediately divorce each other as soon as his hands lay on your knees.
His lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at random spots. He kisses up to just below your ear, fingers pushing further and further up the inside of your thighs, “I’ve thought about this pussy every day.”
You moan at his words and he muffles them quickly with a kiss, “hush now, baby. It’d be a shame if we got caught.”
You nod, whimpering quietly as his fingers hook into your panties and pull them aside. He grips your bottom lip with his teeth and tilts his head back before allowing your lip to gently slap back against your top, “Still wet for me?”
Colby’s voice is deep, slightly raspy, and so, so hot.
That alone was such a turn on, and right there was how you knew you were absolutely fucked.
“you know I am.” You manage to whisper out. You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into you. Your lips press to his and you gasp as two of his fingers push into your eager opening.
“Fuck.” You whimper quietly, wrapping your leg around his waist, “Colby.”
Colby he reaches up, laying his hand on your neck, his lips meet yours once more before he leans down, throwing your legs over his shoulders and not wasting another second before plunging his tongue where his fingers just were.
He groans against you, pressing his face into your to muffle his own moans. You lay a hand over your mouth, looking at Colby devouring you like he used to do years ago.
You did feel bad, you really didn’t want to hurt Mara, but at the same time, Colby’s eyes locking onto yours as he grins like the devil just tops everything.
You reach down, pulling him up to you. Your hands move to his belt and his lips kiss any skin he can find.
You try to quiet the clanking of metal as you pull the leather through. Once out, you unbutton and zip his pants and he’s pushing them down with you.
He grips your thighs, sliding you to the edge of the counter and your legs lift up to lay on his hips as he pulls his cock from his boxers.
You watch down as his cock slides into you and Colby slaps his hand over your mouth right as you start to moan.
He pulls you closer to him as he slowly pull out and thrusts back in to you, this time, bottoming out completely.
Your eyes roll back and your nails dig into the back of his neck. You look up at him, brows burrowed as you squeeze his cock.
He groans lowly into your hair before looking down at you, “So much better than I remember.” He presses his lips to yours, moving them in sync as he thrusts slowly into you.
You moan against his lips, already feeling that band in your belly tightening, “M’gonna cum.” You mumble with your lips still smashed to his.
He nods, resting his forehead against yours, “Mhm.” He presses his lips to your slightly sweaty forehead and he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, “Feels so good, baby girl.”
You squeeze around him, and he chuckles at the indication, “Still like that, huh?” He brushes his lips against your cheek and you whimper out, “Yes.”
He smirks, “Be a good girl and cum for me.”
Your grip on him tightens, and you roll your hips forward as you moan quietly. Colby’s brows raise and he lets out a breath, “Fuck, do that again.” He squeezes your hips, “That felt good.”
You roll your hips, meeting his thrusts the best you can as your orgasm rolls in, wreaking havoc over every inch of your body.
Your legs start to shake and you bury your face into Colby’s shoulder. He slides his hand up your back, holding you close as he guides you through your high.
His following close behind.
It didn’t register until after you were redressed that he didn’t pull out, but you just shrugged it off. You wanted all the time with Colby you could get right now.
After he buckles his belt, he walks over to you, “Hi.”
You smile, laying your hands on his biceps, “Hi.”
His eyes scan your face, licking his lips as he shakes his head, “I should have just messaged you.” You nod, “I agree with you on that one..”
You laugh slightly, “Now we’re in this.. this mess..”
Colby knew you were stressing. The only thing Mara ever talked about was how special or a relationship you guys have.
He cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He makes you look at him, “Well figure this out.”
You nod, “we will?”
He nods, “We will.”
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
Since I haven’t posted much, I added a little subplot for you all 🖤 thanks for reading, I love you all so much.
A FEW WEEKS LATER
Ever since that night at your parents, you and Colby have been non stop texting, calling, talking - you’ve been basically catching each other up over things that happened within the last seven years.
Mara still doesn’t know what happened that night.
Your poor parents still don’t know about the island countertop.
You and Colby were just in your own little world for a little while.
“Fuck.” Your roommate, Jordan, groans from the bathroom, “Do we have stain remover, y/n?” You look up from your phone and close your eyes, “Um, yeah. I think there’s some on the shelve above the washer.”
You look over towards the bathroom, “What did you stain?” You laugh slightly and your smile fades as she walks out holding up her red stained pants.
“Oh, fuck. Okay. Here.” You walk over to her, taking her pants, “I’ll make you a lemon juice mixture. This just happened to me last month.”
“You and your little hacks. I’m glad we’re roomies.” She laughs and walks over, watching as you grab the lemon from the fridge.
You smile, “Right!” You grab a knife and slice the lemon a few times before you have to stop because you felt like you were going to puke.
“Y/n?” Jordan leans in, “Are you okay? You just went pale.” She stands up, “Hey.”
“Be right back.” You manage to choke out before dropping the knife and bolting to the bathroom. You slam the door shut, falling to your knees and heaving over the toilet.
You reach up, pulling down the silver handle and leaning back. You shake your head, thinking to yourself how weird that was. You’ve never gotten sick over smelling a lemon before.
Jordan knocks on the door, “Hey, you okay in there?”
You turn your head slightly, “Y-yeah. I’m good. I think I might be coming down with something.”
“Oh no. Keep it to yourself please.” She laughs slightly, “What am I talking about, I probably already have it.”
“I’ll be out in a second.” You explain to her how to apply the mixture before getting that sick feeling again.
“Okay. If you need anything let me kn-“
You lean forward, gagging as squeeze your eyes shut, “Oh fuck.” You wipe your mouth and let out a sigh. You pull your buzzing phone out and see a text from Mara.
Your heart sinks a little as you open it, Mom and Dad want us to go home at least once a month now. I guess they missed having us at home.
You let out a breath of air and rest your head back against the wall, taking a second to calm your racing heart before you reply, Sounds good to me.
You go to set your phone down but then you see the date.
Your heart starts to race again.
You quickly unlock your phone and go to your period tracker app and your heart falls into your stomach as the words in the circle read, PERIOD IS FOUR DAYS LATE.
“Oh shit.” You scramble to your feet, any feeling of sick being gone and now you were just freaking out. You wipe your forehead, washing your hands before walking as calmly as you can from the bathroom.
“I’m going to run to the store quick, pick up some juice or something, plus I need pads.” You lie, I just got my fucking period, too.”
She groans, trying not to laugh, “Oh shit, dude. Well you know what they say. Girls who hang around together a lot tend to sync cycles.”
“I blame you.” You squint your eyes, “Do you need anything?” She shakes her head, “Oh!” She holds up her fingers, “Grab me one of those coffee Starbucks frappe things.”
“Okay. Text me if you think of anything else.” You walk towards the door, grabbing your keys before you open it and leave.
You let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry as you go to your car. As soon as you get in and connect to the Bluetooth, Colby’s name appears on the screen of your car.
“Fuck. Okay.” You take a deep breath, hitting answer, “Hey, Colbs!”
You can tell he’s smiling through the phone, “What’s up, baby girl?”
You smile slightly and start driving, “I’m just running to the store, Jordan is sick so I’m going to get her some stuff. What’s are you up to?”
“Sam and I are just editing a new video and we took a break, so I figured I’d call you.” Colby yawns, “I’m so tired.”
Tired. Thats another thing you’ve been.
“I feel that. These last few weeks have been just a shit show at work.” You lie again.
You didn’t want to say anything until there was another line indicating that there was even anything that needed to be said.
“Anything in particular?” Colby asks and you sigh, “Just other people, you know.” You pull into the parking lot of the store and lean back, “You and Sam going on any new adventures soon?”
Colby chuckles, “Actually, okay. So I did have another reason to call you.”
You laugh, “What’s the first reason?”
Colby laughs, “Well, because I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice, obviously.” You laugh slightly and tilt your head, “Yeah. I needed to hear yours, too.”
“Aw how sweet.” Colby teases and you roll your eyes with a smile, “Anyway. Reason number two?”
“I talked to Sam and he thinks it’ll be a good idea if you do a video with us. Like a mini high school reunion special, Tayla can come too.” Colby says and you smile, “Yeah.” You say, totally ignoring your current situation, “I know I would and I’m sure Tayla wouldn’t say no to that.”
“Great. Great. I’ll talk to Sam and then I’ll keep you posted with the deats, yeah?”
“Sounds good, Colby.” You smile and hear Sam yelling in the background, “Hi, y/n!” You smile, “Hi Sam!”
“Alright. I’ll text you. Gotta get back to that grind.” Colby laughs, “Ya know?”
“I do. Have fun.” You smile and Colby scoffs, “I will now that you said to.”
You laugh, “Bye.”
“Bye.”
As soon as the car goes silent, tears well up in your eyes and you just start sobbing. Fuck these hormones, you think as you try to pull yourself together.
You take a few deep breaths and grab your bag and keys before walking in.
You managed to get in, grab a few things, the tests and get out. You cried the whole way home. No matter what you did, you couldn’t stop it.
Finally once you were home and in the driveway. You pulled it together, hoping you could hold it long enough.
You walk in, “Hey. I’m back.” You close the door and walk over to the counter, setting down the bags. You get the stuff out and grab the box of pads, “I’ll be back.”
You hand Jordan her drink as you walk by, avoiding eye contact because you couldn’t, not only answer, but handle a why are you crying question right now.
You sit down on the toilet, tossing the box to the floor before opening your purse. You stuffed the box with the tests in there as a way to keep your potential secret hidden from Jordan.
A few moments later, you set the stick down on the counter, covering it with the instructions because you couldn’t care to look.
You set a timer for three minutes, stopping it right before it goes off. You sit there for another second, feeling almost unable to look at it.
You muster up enough courage and pull the paper off, revealing a double lined answer.
It feels like hours pass by as you stare at the tiny oval shaped screen.
You blink, shaking your head as you pick it up, laughing in disbelief as you cover your mouth with your free hand.
You look around, eyes wide as you panic on what to do, “Mm. Fuck.” You set the test on your lap and grab your phone from the sink.
Your thumb hovers over the little phone icon, shaking like a scared Chihuahua, “Fuck.” You sigh and slowly bring your phone to your ear.
By the time your phone meets your ear, you hear Colby talking, “Hey, sweetheart.”
You break, taking in a choked sob, sniffling as you try and talk, “C-col-“ you cover your mouth, you don’t want to be loud enough go get Jordan’s attention.
The less people that know, the better.
You keep your eyes closed, listening to Colby’s soothing voice, “Hey, hey. Y/n.” You can tell he stands up and starts walking, Sam asks him where he’s going. He doesn’t answer him, he just keeps walking, “What’s going on, y/n?”
Your tear filled eyes are locked onto the two lines and you can’t bring yourself to say anything.
“Hey. If this is about us and what we’re doing I pr-“
You cut him off, “n-no. No.” You shake your head to yourself, “I-it’s not that.” You sniffle, looking up, “Um.”
“Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Colby assures and you can’t help but laugh, still unable to believe that this is happening, even though it’s right here in front of you.
You were scared. Scared for what is going to be said about you from Mara. Tayla. Your parents.
You feel your heart rate pick up again and you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but you just inevitably blurt it out, “I’m pregnant.”
It’s silent on both ends, at least for a few minutes before Colby breaks it, “Is it.. mine?”
“Yeah.” You breathe out, resting your elbow on the sink, hand on forehead, “Haven’t slept with anyone else since you.”
“Did you tell anyone else, sweetheart?”
You smile slightly as a tear falls down your cheek, “Mm. No.”
“Do you know how far along you are?” Colby’s voice is soft, gentle. He didn’t seem mad, but you felt like you needed to ask, “Probably like four or five weeks? They won’t get me in for an ultrasound until eight weeks.”
You take a brief pause, “Are you mad?”
“Mad?” He questions right away, “Why would I be mad? This is on me, too.” He chuckles slightly, “I mean, I knew I’d find you again, but I didn’t plan on having this happen right off the bat.”
“I was on birth control, I promise. I must have..” you groan quietly, “missed a pill.” You feel like you want to start crying again but Colby’s voice snaps you out of it, “Shit happens, Princess. We’ll get by. I promise, It’s okay.”
“I’ve been sitting here long enough, I think I’m going to take this other test, just to be sure.” You reach into the box and pull out the other test, unwrapping it before you set your phone and other test on the counter.
“I’m here, okay.” Colby reminds you, “I’m sorry you’re doing this alone.”
“It’s okay.” You whisper as you cap the test, setting it down, “Now we wait. Three minutes.”
After an almost quiet three minutes passes, you let out a sigh, “Okay.” You sit up, reaching for the test, already knowing what it’s about to read.
“Is it the same as the first?” Colby asks and you flip it over, taking in a sharp breath, “Yeah.”
“Okay I’m coming.”
“What?!” You lean forward, “Colby, you can’t what ab-“
“I told you. We will figure this out, and it just so happens that Sam and I have a place to investigate in Seattle, which just so happens to be where you’re living.”
“Mhm.” You smile slightly, “What a coincidence.”
╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
Hi, hello. Sorry I haven’t been posting much. I’m currently working on giving each person their own masterlist and I have to make banners for each one and it’s just a process.
I hope this kind of made up for it. I love you all so much, thank you for reading and as always.. let me know what you thought of this!
Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#samandcolby-ownme#smut warning#Colby Brock#Colby Brock smut#dirty colby brock#colby brock one shot#colby brock one shots#colby brock fluff#colby brock fanfic#colby brock dirty imagines#colby brock x reader#colby brock x reader smut#colby brock x you#colby brock x y/n#Colby Brock x y/n smut#pregnant!reader#xplr club#xplr#colby brock x pregnant!reader
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COMPLICATED
LUST — part iv of we'll write sins like tragedies
pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab)
word count: 8.9k
summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth
warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;(
author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡
♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne
i.
in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.
which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.
it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.
"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?"
you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response. it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.
after another beat of silence, you take the lead.
“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”
“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.
a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.
“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”
“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.
“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests.
almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same.
with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.
you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:
“it’s not her.”
he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.
for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters.
according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you.
“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — "
annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —
well, percy can’t help but admire you even more.
"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”
“everything else?”
you look at percy like the answer is obvious.
“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.”
that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.
“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.”
“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.”
“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.”
you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed.
“what? you never told me that.”
“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”
“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”
you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.
“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”
again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too.
“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”
“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”
percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.
deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.
he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.
—
ii.
if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.
“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.
“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side.
“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”
“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”
“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges.
“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”
“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”
luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even.
“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”
“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”
in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.
“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”
“i just want to be prepared.”
“prepared for what?”
luke hesitates. “just….the future.”
“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”
“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”
“oh my fucking gods — ”
grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults.
when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him.
and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles.
lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.
that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.
then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst.
like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods.
“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”
luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.
“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”
you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.
and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.
“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”
grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory.
he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.
—
iii.
annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely.
all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.
unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other.
annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.
she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.
but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.
as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name.
luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.
all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.
you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve.
annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.
luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first.
“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”
annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like.
as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand.
maybe that’s a good place to start.
“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?"
"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."
"would you go to school?"
you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.”
“what about luke?”
your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."
"luke needs you."
you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask:
“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”
and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry.
“how did you —”
“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun.
“well, nothing’s confirmed.”
you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”
annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.
"what's holding you back?"
“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares — that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”
“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”
you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.
“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping."
"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks.
you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more.
"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”
"oh," is all annabeth can say.
“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."
annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it.
before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.
luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.
when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again.
"that sucks."
“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important."
"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"
"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers. "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”
“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”
the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs.
“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”
you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight.
"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.
annabeth hums.
"how much of that did you hear?"
luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.
—
iv.
you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.
luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin.
“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot.
“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”
“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.
“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke.
luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you.
“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point.
and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.
none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves.
you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”
luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.”
“they went alone?”
“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”
“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.”
luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies.
“don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.
it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed.
“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”
you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you.
“nothing,” he answers instinctively.
“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter.
“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”
“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”
“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?”
it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky.
“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.
of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.
“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”
“then what is it?”
“noth—”
“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”
the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.
so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is.
for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks.
dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander.
the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches.
but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.
working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created.
he did it for you, even if you won't understand.
he'd do anything for you.
so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch.
—
v.
in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.
gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned.
you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm.
“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers.
“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”
“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”
a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for.
“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke.
for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him.
and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense.
you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through.
“you never told me about your dad.”
ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.
you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it.
“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.”
you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.
“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.
“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”
“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”
“that’s….that’s different.”
“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”
“which is?”
you debate telling luke the truth.
it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.
“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit.
another pause, this time from the other side of the bed.
“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”
you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.
“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”
“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”
in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling.
“always so dramatic,” you tease.
deep down, you know you’re not much better.
luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.
it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t.
truthfully, it still scares you.
“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”
you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.
"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."
he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.
"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?
"luke —"
"i have to sort it out on my own.”
"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”
another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything.
eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:
"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up."
"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."
you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.
"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."
luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more.
"do you really mean that?"
his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away.
“of course.”
you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body.
neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.
you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later.
for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more.
it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time.
eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers. instinctively, you start rutting against him.
“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong.
luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin.
“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”
“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”
“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”
you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”
“good girl.”
your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go.
you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.
it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians.
secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.
"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.
you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers."
luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there.
"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says:
“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.
luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal.
as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again.
you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.
“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you."
in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder.
“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”
sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time.
this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep.
you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.
with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you.
"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?"
all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words.
you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.
"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop."
you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.
"y-yes, luke."
"are you mine?"
you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.
you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.
"i'm yours," you promise.
luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.
satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours.
it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.
the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high.
luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.
“did you just —”
the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.
"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."
luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.
"you’re so fucking hot."
your heart flutters.
“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.”
he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating.
“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "
"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself.
maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do.
you want more. you need more.
"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"
"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought.
you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.
"shit. i don't have another one.”
"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.
you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you.
"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"
“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."
luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:
“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?
before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face.
"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."
you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer.
"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings.
luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed.
"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”
luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."
you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours.
made for each other.
you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too.
“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck.
“don’t,” you command.
“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.
“i just want to feel you this once.”
he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet.
luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before.
even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.
this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.
wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —
“are you okay?”
his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.
you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach.
"i didn't hurt you, did i?"
“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”
luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.
“you’ve never said that before.”
“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.
luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.”
your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.
“oh, shit.…”
you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully.
of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.
because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job.
“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”
luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."
"you do?" your heart resumes its beating.
"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”
“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”
“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"
"they like the smell of begging."
luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek.
"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”
“you won’t —”
“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”
you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words.
the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would.
the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast.
luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face.
evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.
outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.
luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place."
you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.
"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes."
the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards.
"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.
you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips.
"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."
luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:
"i love you."
your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.
because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.
you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed.
it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.
no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.
just this.
#the way this became a whole chapter....i've got wayyy too much to say i guess#i really wanted to incorporate the trio into this series a bit more and how others see luke + karma's relationship#also i forget who said it but smut as a character study....yeah <3#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan angst#luke castellan smut#luke castellan x nemesis!reader#luke castellan x you#pjo fanfic#pjo#luke castellan fanfic#saf writes
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bodyguard: the first guard | part three | chan/reader
masterlist.
(part one of the previous story.)
part one | part two | part three | tba
( read on AO3 )
A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh’s daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.
pairing: bang chan/reader
content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture. mentions of past sexual abuse, detailed descriptions of needles.
chapter word count: 12,525 words.
-
B E F O R E
“Happy fourteenth birthday.”
Felix looks up from his work. He underperformed in training today and landed himself a punishment. His good record spared him anything too painful, but he has been assigned cleaning duty. Taking apart, cleaning, and reassembling weapons is not difficult work – he could do it in his sleep – but it is tedious.
Tedium is its own kind of torture, especially these days with his mind in a state of tumult. He has grown closer to Chris with each passing day. Felix knows they are not meant to think of each other as friends, just fellow soldiers, but that is the word Felix uses.
My friend.
That is who stands over Felix now. Chris is smiling and holding something wrapped in what looks like a kitchen napkin. Felix blinks at it, then furrows his brow.
“Huh?” Felix says. “It’s not my birthday.”
“Could be!” Chris says.
Felix supposes Chris has a point. Felix does not actually know his own birthday because he bounced around foster care before he found himself in Miroh’s program. If his birthday was recorded anywhere, no one told him what it was. So it could be his birthday. The odds are not great but not impossible.
“Um,” Felix says, because no one has ever wished him a happy – or happy possible – birthday. He guesses the best reply is, “Thanks?”
“It’s not a trick, man,” Chris says, smiling. He laughs at Felix, though it doesn’t feel cruel, and ruffles his hair before shoving the little wrapped item at him. “Here,” Chris says. “Got it especially for you.”
Felix unfolds the napkin and finds a cookie. It’s not the kind of food that is served at the regiment because their diet is so strict. Food is a sustenance and not a pleasure.
“Wow,” Felix says. It is a genuine surprise. Chris had to go out of his way to get this.
Felix feels embarrassed. He still struggles to cope with feeling in general. He almost yearns for a simpler, more naïve time, when he didn’t have to think or feel, just trust and follow. Now he is a flustered knot of embarrassment because Chris is giving him presents just because Felix mentioned he had never received one. It was an off-handed remark a few days ago, that he didn’t know his birthday and had never received a present but that it didn’t matter because he didn’t deserve it.
And he didn’t, he doesn’t, deserve any of it. Not a birthday wish or a thoughtful gift or Chris’s friendship. Felix has so much blood on his hands and he doesn’t how much of it is innocent. He never counted his kills like some other agents, stupid kids bragging to seem bigger and more powerful than their circumstances. Felix never did it for glory. He knew his place. Now he doesn’t count them because it doesn’t matter. It all comes back to him when he closes his eyes. He remembers what they were wearing, what they said before they died, the things they begged to a naïve, indifferent child.
He doesn’t count them because he doesn’t need a number to know it’s too much and he will never be able to take it back. He doesn’t deserve birthdays and friendships and Chris. He never will.
He doesn’t say this out loud. He knows Chris will argue with him, belligerent in his kindness and reassurance. Felix won’t listen in turn. The conversation would be useless. Rather than bother, Felix asks, “Where did you get it?”
“Hey, I know I’m trouble,” Chris says, still smiling, “but I got connections too, you know?”
Felix guesses he means Miroh’s daughter as she is the only agent with outside connections. They seem to have a tenuous understanding because she and Chris get in the most trouble. Chris, because he still bristles at commands and steps out of line. Her, because she’s Miroh’s daughter and held to a higher standard than the rest of them.
Chris can befriend almost anyone, garnering admiration in his peers if nothing else. His rebellious streak means no one wants visible association with him, but in the quietest of corners there is a whispered respect for the First Guard. He is as notorious as he is skilled and he has a natural leadership.
Felix supposes it is not outside the realm of possibility that even Miroh’s daughter would consider Chris a friend – but only somewhere even quieter than most.
Felix does not consider Miroh’s daughter a friend and he doubts he ever will. Her proximity to Miroh makes her an even bigger liability than Chris. Felix would never get close to someone like that, born into their position and too close to power for his liking.
“Miroh’s daughter, you mean,” Felix says.
Felix might keep his musings close to his heart, but that doesn’t mean Chris can’t read them anyway. Chris is a soldier by instinct if not choice. He is always one step ahead. It’s like he is inside Felix’s head. He seems to know what Felix will do before Felix does.
“Yeah,” Chris says. He rubs the back of his neck, breathing deeply. He looks almost sheepish, as if admitting he knows better. “She’s not that bad when you get to know her. Really.”
Felix is certain he looks unconvinced. It makes Chris laugh.
“You look worried,” Chris says.
“I do worry about you,” Felix says. He looks down at the cookie in his hand. It is hard to say out loud, but he manages a weak, “You’re my friend.”
Chris is suspiciously quiet. When Felix looks up, Chris has a determination to his countenance.
“Find me when you’re done here,” Chris says. “I wanna show you something.”
Felix, as usual, does as he is told. When his punishment ends, he tracks Chris to the barracks where the older boy is patiently waiting. He claps Felix on the shoulder but otherwise doesn’t stop to greet him. He is a little skittish as he leads Felix to their mysterious destination.
It is not so extraordinary in the end. Nothing around here is. Everything is cold chrome and sleek silver, one room much like the next, branded by Miroh as surely as its occupants.
Chris knocks out a ventilation panel then leads Felix to what looks like an unused crawl space, forgotten and collecting dust.
“Welcome to my office,” Chris jokes, still with that nervous laughter. It is putting Felix on edge.
“Is everything all right?” Felix asks.
“Well, no, Felix,” Chris says. “It isn’t. You know that now, don’t you?”
A couple years of shared assignments between the best and second best, the rebellious and the reluctant. A couple years of watching Miroh bludgeon his way through the world. A couple years of regret.
A couple years of friendship to change everything.
“Yeah,” Felix says. It is all he needs to say.
“Sit,” Chris says. There is a corner of the room that has been cleared of dust, this part of the hideaway evidently well-used. “Let’s talk.”
Whatever conversation Felix expects to have, it is not the one he gets. He sits and watches Chris, watches him breathe and measure his words. Chris is usually confident in what he has to say, even when staring down a barrel of a gun. This is more than disconcerting.
“I’ve been talking to some others in the program,” Chris says. “We’re all growing up. I’ll be eighteen soon. If we’re already strong, we’re just gonna get stronger. Miroh has complete control over us. I’m scared that if we don’t do something about it soon, then everything is going to get worse. A lot, lot worse.”
“Do something,” Felix says, his mind going a mile a minute. “What do you mean? Who else have you told about this?”
“People I consider friends,” Chris says. He puts a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “People like you, Felix.”
He thinks of the cookie in his pocket. His heart punches up with alarm.
“Miroh’s daughter?” Felix asks and this time he knows for certain his thoughts are very clear. He says her name – not even her name, her position, the daughter and heir of the very thing Chris wants to fight – and he says it with the obvious inflection of what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking?
“She’s a friend,” Chris says in a voice he usually reserves for an enemy. It startles Felix into silence. Seeing that, Chris smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to trust her,” Chris says. “Just trust me. Felix, I want to get us out, all of us. I don’t want that man or any other man like him to hurt anyone else. Not kids, not adults, not anyone. I won’t put you in more danger, I swear. That’s the opposite of what I want. I’m gonna protect you, okay? I’m gonna protect all of you. When the time comes to take a stand, I just want you to be ready. If something happens, if it all goes wrong…”
Felix looks at him, alarm and worry plain on his young face. Chris squeezes his shoulder again.
“If…” Chris swallows then continues, “If it is all goes wrong, I’ll pay the price alone. But I’d rather die trying to save all of you than live another day hurting innocent people for Miroh.”
“Chris—” Felix starts, an argument on his tongue.
“Don’t,” Chris says firmly. “If there was anything worth dying for, Felix, then it’s this. I’m gonna get you out. I’m gonna get you all out. I swear. Just be ready for when I say. Just trust me. Just be my friend.”
Felix spends a week after that in a state of restless turmoil. He sleeps poorly and fights worse and even spends a night in the Cell for his mistakes.
He doesn’t know what to think about Chris and his intentions. It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But if it worked…
It wouldn’t take the blood off Felix’s hands, but it would be a start to something better. Felix has little thought for his own fate, undeserving as he is, but he thinks about Chris. Chris, the First Guard, who has been here the longest, who has watched the most people die, who has been punished the worst.
Chris deserves better.
Felix believes in Chris. He believes if Chris made an effort, then he would have what it takes to make a difference. Felix knows Chris is capable. He could do what he sets out to do.
It is not Chris that Felix worries about.
Felix observes Miroh’s daughter, studying her more closely than ever before. Felix trusts Chris’s general discretion but he worries Chris has a blind spot concerning her. They are the only two in their age category and they share a small barrack, the forced proximity undoubtedly creating a semblance of intimacy. Chris might trust her but Felix is not so biased. All he sees is Miroh.
Felix watches her. She doesn’t spend much time with Chris in public, her only close relationship with Seo Changbin. They are a bit notorious together. Felix would not call them the best fighters but they are tricky. He is pretty sure they throw their fights with each other and embellish more than necessary. Both like a good skull crash, more brutal than efficient. The trickery and brutality makes Felix more wary of her.
At the same time, her obvious friendship with Changbin shows she can care about someone else. The pair throw a mean punch but always patch each other up after.
Chris catches Felix watching them. They are having a go in the ring, punching and flipping, grinning when they think no one is watching. They have smiles just for each other.
“You look really deep in thought, mate,” Chris says, laughing. He hands Felix a water bottle while toweling down his own sweaty neck.
“Huh?” Felix finally breaks his concentration. He takes the water and smiles one of his instinctive but fake smiles – the kind he uses on a mission, when he is trying to convince an adversary that he is an innocent, unassuming kid.
Chris sees through it, of course. He lifts an eyebrow at Felix then follows his line of sight to the ring.
“What?” Chris says, laughing again. His own ears turn a little red as he teases, “You got a crush on her or something?”
“Ew, shut up,” Felix says, throwing his own towel at him. He feels flushed despite the fact it is vehemently untrue. He is not used to being provoked with that line of teasing. “No,” he says certainly. “I have no feelings for anyone. But I think they might.”
“Huh?” Chris looks between Felix and the ring. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, look at them,” Felix says. “They’re a little too close, don’t you think?”
Presently, Miroh’s daughter has Changbin pinned to the mat. She is on top of him and whispering something that makes them both snicker.
Chris stares at them. After a beat of contemplative silence, he laughs. Felix recognizes the fake sound, the same disarming humour Felix uses when conning someone.
“Yeah,” Chris says. “Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah?”
Felix watches Chris amble over. He says something to the duo and Changbin retaliates with some non-descript shouting and flailing. Miroh’s daughter rolls her eyes. She grabs Chris by the collar and yanks him into a fight.
The rest of the day progresses without much fuss or bother. Miroh has no jobs for them today so the schedule is just training and recuperation.
Felix manages to avoid punishment today. He tries expelling his anxiety in a fight but it does not fully work. Felix has come to realize he is not very good at letting go. Belief, emotion, the good, the bad: all of gets clutched in his fists and held to his heart.
Fighting tires him but it is not a satisfying tired, of exerted muscles and a pumping heart. He feels weary and everything everywhere is so loud, the chrome and steel of the Miroh facilities like an echoing dome. It cycles all that noise in an agonizing reverberation. It feels inescapable. He goes to the barracks which are smaller but it makes the claustrophobia worse.
Laying in his bunk, rubbing his temples, Felix dreams of a quiet room of his own.
It is then he remembers Chris’s hideaway. Chris miraculously dodged punishment today so he retreated to the barracks a while ago. Felix doesn’t want to disturb him but he figures Chris won’t mind him using the hideaway on his own if he’s careful.
They are permitted access to the training room for the few hours between work and mandatory repose. The hideaway is en route so it is easy for Felix to stealthily retrace his steps without raising suspicion. He disappears in the security blind spot the way Chris showed him.
Felix is in the tunnel when he hears a noise. He worries he was followed despite being so careful, but then he realizes the noise is ahead of him, not behind him.
He freezes in the crawl tunnel, trying to discern the sound. It doesn’t sound like talking, more like… breathing? Heavy breathing.
Then he hears a laugh that he recognizes as Chris. And he is not alone. The other noise is a sigh, a lighter, more feminine sound.
Oh.
Apparently, Chris’s hideaway is not just for talking to friends. The sound of kissing and sighing is more friendly than his conversation with Felix, that’s for sure.
Felix is frozen for a minute, too stunned and embarrassed to think of moving. He has to shuffle backwards to escape because he can’t turn in that part of the crawl space. If this was a mission, he could do it, but this is personal. He doesn’t want to get caught but it’s not because it will compromise any job; it’s because it will be awkward.
He scuffs his shoe in his backwards shuffle. It clangs, a subtle sound, but one that makes him wince.
It goes quiet around the corner. Felix knows he was heard and there is no time to escape. Seconds later, a frantic looking Chris is in the tunnel, red-faced with a line of sweat on his brow. His uniform is clearly dishevelled and Felix gets even more embarrassed.
Those feelings need somewhere to go. It comes out of him in a burst of frustration.
“What are you doing?” Felix demands, his voice breaking.
“Nothing!” Chris says, clearly a knee-jerk reaction. Then he takes a breath and says, “Look, I can explain—”
“It’s not Miroh’s daughter,” Felix says. He can’t even pose it as a question because he refuses to believe Chris could genuinely be that reckless and stupid. Befriending her is one thing – a stupid thing – but fooling around with the daughter of the powerful man who owns them is begging for tragedy.
“I’m not stupid,” Chris says.
“It doesn’t matter,” Felix says. “Whoever it is, you need to stop.”
“Look—”
“Seriously, Chris!”
“Felix—”
“It’s not worth it!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Chris snaps. “You’re not normal and you don’t understand what it means to care about someone like that.”
It is obviously thoughtless, blurted in the head of the moment. It hurts anyway. Felix wonders if Chris can see the pain on his face because Chris looks immediately remorseful.
“Look, I didn’t mean it like that—” Chris starts.
“It’s fine,” Felix says. “You’re right.”
“Felix—”
Felix pushes backwards and leaves without waiting for any protest. He does not stop, marching all the way back to this bunk. Anger and embarrassment have finally dissipated by the time he returns. It has been replaced with determination.
Chris is the best, but he has been compromised whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. He feels too much, for everyone and everything, and it will get him in even more trouble than he is already in. if he retaliates with thoughtless provocation when it’s just Felix confronting him, then what will he do when it’s Miroh and the stakes are even higher?
Chris said he would protect them all. He swore to succeed at any cost, including his own life. There is no one swearing the same for him. No one has ever protected him.
Felix is the second best. He has never left a job unfinished and for that he is not deserving of the protection Chris is offering.
It won’t clean the blood on his hands, but if Felix can save a life worth more than his own, then maybe it will start to justify all of this, all of him.
Chris was right. Felix is not normal. But he was wrong say that Felix doesn’t know what it means to care about someone. Because of Chris, Felix knows how to care. He knows what he has to do.
Chris can try and save them all.
Felix is going to save Chris.
-
P R E S E N T D A Y
Miroh’s main facility has fallen.
It sounds so dramatic for something so anticlimactic, like you are describing the collapse of a kingdom and not the shutdown of his main office operation.
It feels like an apocalyptic demise.
You and Chan fight your way out of the building, taking on the people who fight in your name. Your father’s name. Miroh.
Miroh is dead. Irrefutably broken, little more than a heap of meat on the tarmac. With him gone and the only named heir on the run – you – this facility will shut down to maintain security.
Miroh ran a meticulously compartmentalized business. There is protocol for everything so even if one part of his operation fell, the rest could continue unimpeded. Miroh tried to establish a legacy that could rival old money like his enemy, going so far as to predict his own demise. Miroh has long braced for the eventuality of his end, so he made sure his business could fracture and run without him.
He did everything in his power to make you just like him, a little broken fracture of himself to ensure that legacy. But then he could not actually face what he created. He could not actually let go. He was the only one with the perspective and power and he had to keep it that way.
Miroh would not have accounted for your rebellion, not for the sake of someone else. For a friend.
Flashes of the last twenty four hours play in your mind. You can hardly pinpoint the change in yourself. It feels like this was somehow inevitable, despite how much you would have balked at the idea before. But now it is all that matters. It’s all that makes sense in this chaos.
You have to find your friend. This facility will be empty in a matter of hours, but there are others. Changbin is in one of them. You have no idea where to start.
One thing at a time, you tell yourself. Before you can ruminate on anything behind or in front of you, you need to fight. You do not have time for introspection or planning. You need to get away. Away from this place, away from your dead father.
Away from his soldier, the First Guard, Bang Chan, who for some reason is helping you escape.
You don’t know why. You seriously doubt your barely coherent pleading broke the conditioning and literal torture that made him into this thing.
You don’t have time to find out. At the first opportunity, you break away, leaving him with a handful of operatives to fight. It should keep them all occupied while you escape.
You do not want to risk trapping yourself in an enclosed space, so you do not venture to the parking garage where the company vehicles are stored. Some of them will be programmed and bugged. You feel bad targeting a civilian, but stealing one of their cars is the safest bet. There are some administrative employees who complete menial tasks for the company, those with next to no clearance level. They park their personal cars around the facility. You pick one that is easy to reconfigure without a key to boot.
Minutes later, you are driving for an exit. Your whole body is aching but you push through it. There will be time to recuperate when you are in the clear.
Sirens wail and alarms blare, every security measure in action. Your escape is certainly not a clean one but it doesn’t matter. You just need to get away.
If you can get off the facility grounds, you can lose any adversaries in the back country roads. The route to the facility was intentionally designed to be a convoluted labyrinth, making it difficult for enemies to approach without giving the facility ample preparation time. You know the paths better than anyone. You can get away.
A soldier marches right into the middle of your escape path.
It is too brazen for a regular agent. They would not be so stupid to try that, knowing you would just barrel into them.
You speed closer and recognize the First Guard. Chan is unflinching as ever, standing in the middle of the road as if he intends to stop your car with his body. He is strong but not that strong. You know that. But he looks like an inhuman phantom, looming there in his combat gear and mask, unphased and unharmed despite the hour of nonstop violence.
But that’s not the reason you stop. You think about him in that van. You could only see his eyes but they were expressive, the tilt of his head inquisitive.
You slam on the brakes. The car stops inches from his body but he doesn’t even blink.
Your heart is racing, breath bursting in gasps. He strolls around the car as if he was just waiting for his ride.
Soldiering instinct propels your hands. You draw a gun as he opens the passenger-side door. He bends down and looks at you, his brow quirked with a silent question. Your hand shakes and he is too good not to notice. You know that, but a regular person would never guess because he does not take his eyes off yours.
He disarms you, faster than a blink. He drops into the passenger seat, then slams the door and shoves the gun in its storage compartment.
You stare at him. Your gaze follows the line of his stark profile. His hairline is a little sweaty but he doesn’t look out of breath.
You don’t know what to think.
This is the longest you have been in his company since you were kids in training. Your memory of him is insubstantial, having spent little to no time with him personally. But it hardly matters what he was. Now he’s a soldier above all soldiers, a shadow filling this small civilian car. He’s not the biggest man in the world but he’s overwhelming all the same, partially because of his uniform and partially because of his posture. He feels too big for this little human space. His knee hits the gear shift, his thighs bulky in the small seat, his shoulders broad where he leans back.
He looks across the car and meets your eyes. You think about how many people have met this gaze, maybe in a moment just like this, sitting across from Miroh’s asset in a little civilian vehicle before he put a bullet between their eyes or snapped their neck. You have seen the results of his missions even if you were not involved in them. The statistics and numbers speak for themselves. Those eyes have seen more death than life and right now they are resolutely focussed on you.
You jump when he lifts his hand. He says nothing but turns the rearview mirror in your direction. You reluctantly peel your gaze away from him. You see what he sees: a vehicle in rapid pursuit of your own.
“Shit,” you say. You shove the mirror back into place. Your hands collide for a split second.
You can’t linger on the weirdness of this moment, that the First Guard is your ally, sitting in the passenger seat and helping you escape.
You drive. The other vehicle chases you down. You get past the easy security measures, blowing past gates and guards. When you approach the last gate, Chan rolls down the window and twists his body. He pulls the stashed gun and aims somewhere. Your eyes are on the road so you don’t see exactly what he does, but the gate slams shut between you and the pursuing vehicle, trapping them on the other side.
Then it is just you, him, and the road.
He puts the gun away. He sits back. He rolls up the window. He makes it seem like a routine, still unphased while your heart pounds with adrenaline.
You do not look at him. You do not speak. You focus on escape, taking a convoluted path through the countryside just in case. When the facility is far, far behind you, you take a back road and pull into a shadowed space between some trees.
You slam to a stop, shift the gear to park, but keep the engine running. You clutch the steering so hard, you imagine it cracking beneath the force of your grip.
Chan still does not speak. The last time he spoke was on that rooftop. What now?
A damn good question.
You look at him. He is not sitting the way you would expect a machine of a man to be sitting. You would have thought the First Guard would sit straight-backed and braced for confrontation, but his slouch is almost insouciant. He sits with his knees apart, his body slanted where his elbow rests on the door. One gloved hand strums the door and the other is draped over his thigh. He looks at you without any expression you can interpret.
You are tired. Your body hurts. Your father is dead and the operation is changing and your only friend is suffering and you can’t do anything about any of it. This morning you held a modicum of control over your life – or you thought you did – and now everything has spiralled.
You know logically that Chan is a victim of Miroh, but right now it does not matter. He is an infuriating figure of composure, not to mention your father’s greatest weapon, and that combination snaps the elastic thread of your patience, already stretched to its limits.
“Take off the fucking mask,” you say.
He stares at you, his expression still unreadable. You are tempted to reach across and rip the mask off his face. You would definitely not succeed, no match for his reflexes on a good day, but logic is inconsequential in the face of your emotions.
He doesn’t test you. He stares for another moment then raises one gloved hand. He unhooks the mask and peels it off. He runs the other hand over his face and through his hair.
You are not sure what you were expecting. The same brown eyes stare back at you, lined with a smudged shadow to look as dark and intimidating as possible. His brows are thick and dark, his hair as black, sweat loosening the slick style so a single curly tuft falls over his forehead.
You follow the slope of his nose down to his mouth. His mouth is closed and he is not smiling. He has full lips, almost too pretty for what he is. Glancing at that mouth on that too-pretty face, you picture a dimple smiled. The memory is almost a blur, a smear of an image over his face. You blink and it’s gone, his stoic face staring back at you.
“What is it?” he says. His voice is like the rest of him, too big in this small space. You swear it shakes the car and the earth under it, though that is ridiculous. It’s just a voice. He’s just a man.
Except he’s not. He’s something else, something that should not have done what he did. You have a million questions. You need those answers before you can continue but it all jumbles together in your head. It’s all too much, the flashes of today, of the past, of an uncertain future full of even more violence.
You finally turn off the engine and get out of the car. You have no intention of going anywhere, but you need space.
You pace in a long line, breathing in and out, using every trick in the book to ease your racing heart. After a minute, you hear the passenger door open. You look over your shoulder at Chan.
You can’t help the instinctive reaction to measure him like an adversary. It doesn’t help he has pummelled you twice in the last few months, not to mention his horrid reputation in an already horrid place. It would be stupid not to brace yourself.
He approaches you cautiously. He has the gall to raise a hand like you are the wild thing and he is the tamer.
“Easy,” he says. His voice is not so booming out here. Other than the dark combat uniform, he almost looks normal, his whole face open to you, eyes narrowed with intense focus.
It makes you breathe harder, the exhale shaky. He notices because he tries to placate you.
He smiles.
It is forced and unpracticed, but there are those dimples, just like you thought. You would have been less startled if he bared his teeth like an animal. The smile unnerves you, undoing all the calming work of your exercises.
“It’s all right,” he says in a frighteningly gentle voice. He tilts his head as he looks at you. “It’s just me, yeah?”
Just him. Like that should comfort you. You suppose you can marginally see things from his perspective, that maybe he has proved himself. After all, he helped you escape. It is obvious he is not doing this for your father or he would not have let you kill him. This is not part of a grand plan. There is no strategy. It’s all over.
It’s just you and him.
It does not comfort you the way he evidently thinks it should. Now is the time to ask those million questions, but you are beyond words. You are a live wire and that pitiful attempt at a truce ignites a flare of angry sparks.
You were built to fight. It punches out of you. Literally.
Chan is faster than you. He dodges your swing with ease, fast as an electric current himself.
“Hey now,” he says, holding out both hands. “Don’t—”
You know you can’t win this fight. You know it’s stupid to try. But each swing flies out of you, instinctive as breathing. He catches every blow, bats your hands out of the way, but he doesn’t swing back. His refusal to fight infuriates you. It makes you feel as helpless as you are.
An aggravated cry spills out of you, a strain behind your eyes as you take another swing.
“Stop it,” he snaps, his smile gone.
He finally goes on the offense, catching your hands and pinning them down. There is a moment of struggle before you feel the driver door at your backside, his body caging you in. You rear up against him but he holds you down, hip to hip, hand to hand.
“I said stop it,” he says. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” you ask, voice breaking. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Your chest is pressed against his, moving with your breath while he stands like an ungiving wall. You glare at him and he stares back. His brow furrows in seeming confusion. He closes both eyes and breathes out, a steadying breath.
You thought seeing him lose composure would make you feel better, but you feel worse, more unnerved than before.
He looks at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering when he clenches it. You stare at it as he releases you.
“You must know I can’t trust you,” you say.
You make the mistake of lifting your hands to shove him away. You do not intend to punch him again, the worst of that aggression gone, but he doesn’t know that. You suppose you can’t blame him for his instincts after your demonstration.
When you lift your hands, he grabs your wrists. Swiftly and effortlessly, he pins your hands by your head.
“Oh,” he says. His eyebrows lift and his face is far more expressive than you expected. “I’m the one who can’t be trusted, right?”
“Excuse me?” you snap.
“I’m doing my job, yeah,” he says. “Yesterday you were running jobs for Daddy and today you shot him dead. Wanna talk about erratic behaviour? Wanna talk about who’s unpredictable? About who can trust who here?”
Your mouth parts with a useless, breathless rebuttal, stammering and empty. You didn’t expect that many words from him, not when he has been a silent shadow for so long. Never mind the easy, casual speech, every colloquialism and the taunting hurl of daddy. It makes you think of that scathing, troublesome boy he once was, as sharp with his tongue as everything else. But he is not that boy. You know for a fact he was broken. He has done all those jobs for Miroh without causing any strife in the operation. He is a weapon and nothing more. He exists to follow orders.
Until today. Until you.
“So?” you finally say, because what else can you say?
“So?” he repeats.
“So.” You have those million questions, but there is only one that really matters. “What are we? Soldiers without a general? Because right now it seems like we’re two people who have no reason to trust each other and no reason to work together.”
Your gazes are locked and you measure each other. Not that you are much of a threat to him. He has you pinned with very little effort. If you were at your fighting best, you like to think it would be a little challenge, but right now you stand no chance against him.
But he doesn’t want to hurt you or he would have done it already.
He drops your hands. He doesn’t step away, still regarding you with that scrutinous eye, but it is a menial demonstration of trust.
You drop your arms. You stare back at him, refusing to show the depth of your weakness. You think his body might be keeping yours upright, your legs so weak. You do everything in your power to keep your wild emotions in check, to keep the tears in the back of your eyes. You breathe deeply.
“I’ll help you find your friend,” Chan says, the last thing you expect him to say. You can only watch as he sighs and speaks. “You were my last mission,” he says. “Miroh told me to bring you in. I did. He wanted me to watch you. I am. He wanted me to be your—” He laughs but it is not a happy sound, dry and devoid of pleasure. “Your bodyguard, I guess.” He shakes his head. “Consider this me following orders,” he says. “That’s what I do, yeah? I follow orders. And I don’t leave a job unfinished. Ever.”
“And Miroh?” you say tentatively. “The fact I killed him?”
He shrugs dramatically, hands open in surrender.
“Miroh didn’t make me his bodyguard,” Chan says. “He made me yours.”
It is such preposterously simple logic that you laugh, a disbelieving bark of a sound. You look around at nothing, like the answer to your ridiculous circumstance is in the trees or the road.
When you look at Chan, he is still looking at you, his brow quirked inquisitively.
“Well?” he says. “Is that enough? Can we work together to finish this last job?”
“Your job,” you say slowly. You meet his eyes. “So that’s what I am to you?”
It’s meant to be an easy question with a reassuring answer. He is a soldier. You are his job. He will do what you ask. It’s as simple as that.
He tilts his head as he looks at you. His contemplation is too heavy. It was a simple question for a simple soldier who should speak no language outside of missions and reports.
His gaze is searing and it makes your heart skip a startled beat.
“Yes,” he says. He speaks the word like it’s exhausting to say out loud. It lands with a thud on an exhale. “My job.”
His forearm is planted by your head. His other hand grips your bicep. He is keeping you in place with his hips and thighs. You can feel the tension in his body.
You have no idea why you do what you do. It comes from the same place as those desperate punches. You know it’s useless, you know nothing will come of it, but you ride the propulsion of adrenaline. Your body, on the brink of desperation, has been pushed to its utmost capabilities in the last couple hours. What does it want? What do you want?
What did you ever really want?
You kiss him.
It shocks you both. Unlike the punch, he does not know how to retaliate. He stands there, breathing into your mouth. He is neither encouraging nor withdrawing.
You stop quickly and wipe your mouth. Mortification sets in.
None of this is like you. You blame stress. Your body is confused and hurt. You need recuperation. Whether you like it or not, you need comfort too. It is a deep internal call, only human. But you won’t be getting that from the solid, inhuman wall around you.
You push at that wall and it finally gives. Chan steps back. You doubt a punch would have moved him so easily as that kiss.
“Ignore that,” you say. “Adrenaline. I’m still – not right.”
He just stares, once more a silent shadow. You breathe out in a huff.
“Okay,” you say. “And we’re back to the staring. At least I know you’re still working.”
You turn to open the car door, effectively ending the tense exchange. Chan walks away. He silently circles the car to reach the passenger door. You look at his face, once more stoic and expressionless. He doesn’t look at you, dropping into the vehicle without another glance or sound.
You close your eyes. You take another deep breath of fresh air.
Maybe this is good. Maybe Chan is the ally you need right now. Someone level, someone only concerned with mission parameters. Someone who will not become compromised because of emotion.
Because you are very compromised.
You are not thinking clearly. You need a plan and some water and rest.
You get in the car. You start the engine. You don’t speak another word.
-
You drive for hours, wanting distance between you and the destruction.
The silence in the car is piercing, your head aching after the first hour. The little space acts like an echo chamber for your tumultuous thoughts. You keep replaying the day, every death and cry. You think about your security team strewn across those stairs, just another casualty in Miroh’s game. You think about your father, the unplanned murder but the utter lack of regret in your heart.
You think about Changbin. Your reckless side wants to look for him right now. You cannot stand to waste another second. Based on your father’s words, he could be anywhere, subject to any number of horrors. But despite the whirlwind tempest of your mind, there is a soldier inside you and she is more pragmatic. You are in no condition to fight. Even if you knew Changbin’s exact location, you would be no use to him. You need to rest, formulate a legitimate plan, then attack.
You can’t afford to make any mistakes. Better than anyone, you know the forces you are up against.
You pull into a highway fill-up station at dusk. The car needs fuel and so do you. There is a little shop near the fuel pumps, the place deserted other than the bored cashier behind the counter.
There was some cash in the glove box, enough for necessities. You will inevitably need to steal or manipulate, but you prefer to lay low tonight. You were careful to avoid traffic cameras and security tv as you exited the previous city. By the time the car is reported and Miroh’s operation works out your connection, you will be off the grid.
You turn off the engine and reach for the wallet. Chan snatches it first.
“What are you doing?” is spoken in unison.
“I’m going to buy us some fucking water and food,” you say.
“Are you? Really?” He gives you a pointed up-and-down look. “You gonna do that looking like you just played cannonball with a cement wall?”
You have not gotten a good look at yourself, just a flash in the rearview mirror, but he is probably right. You feel like utter shit so you must look it too.
“Well, you can’t go in there either,” you say. Even without the mask, he is clearly in an unusual uniform. A bored clerk will remember a terrifying soldier in combat clothes marching through his shop.
Chan flashes you a dimpled smile, frighteningly charming.
“Sure I can,” he says. “Just have to blend in.”
Your eyes widen as he discards both gloves then opens the neck of his shirt. You stare as he efficiently strips off his top layers.
If he looked powerful in the uniform, he looks as just as intimidating without it. He doesn’t boast gargantuan proportions but he doesn’t need it. There is lethal strength to the rolling musculature of his sturdy body.
You shouldn’t care. Soldiers strip all the time, long assignments and shared compartments making it an inevitability. But Chan is not just another soldier. In your head, he is that living shadow, covered all the way up to his eyes in the Miroh black and blue. Seeing all that skin is a startling reminder of the man under the mask.
You find Chan watching you, amused. That stupid eyebrow is quirked again.
“What?” you snap.
“Nothing,” he replies. “Be right back. Don’t miss me too bad.”
You roll your eyes, slumping in your seat as he gets out of the car. You have half a mind to drive away but you are pretty sure he would find a way to manifest at your destination anyway.
You watch as he enters the shop in a nonchalant stroll, wearing just his pants and boots. He waves at the cashier and says something that makes him laugh.
To his credit, Chan looks like a regular guy on a hot day, casually perusing a gas station shop. He makes small talk with the cashier and they laugh some more.
You knew Chan was a good soldier but you didn’t expect him to be such a good agent too. He is probably better at the civilian act than you. You are standoffish and opt for a quiet demeanour, blending in through invisibility rather than a persona.
Chan walks in and out, the cashier unaware of the nature of his customer. You return to the road with a full of tank of gas and some sustenance.
“Are you going to put your shirt back on?” you ask.
He gives you a side-eye as he shrugs the outermost layer back on. He doesn’t do it up. You refuse to act like a glimpse of his bare chest means anything to you.
Except it does. When he sits there with his knee against the console and his skin showing and a tuft of hair over his forehead, he looks like a person. He is a person, one who has been subject to some of the worst horrors of Miroh’s operation.
There is no denying Chan is a complicated figure, unwillingly complicit in atrocities. He acts like a normal person with a fully cognizant mind, but you just witnessed for yourself how easily he can fake that. You do not know how much of the real Bang Chan is actually inside him.
“Chan,” you say after a long time. The sun has almost fully set, the sky in its navy gloaming.
“Yeah?” he says.
There are no words that suffice. You could give an entire speech and it would be virtually meaningless.
“I’m sorry,” you say, leaving the breadth of the apology up to his interpretation. You keep your eyes on the endless miles of highway that stretch ahead. There is a long journey in front of you. There is a longer road behind you.
The car is illuminated with golden light from passing cars and overhead lamps. It flashes over his face in the deepening darkness.
“Don’t be,” Chan says. He crosses his arms in a protective position, looking out his window though there is nothing to see but the highway and passing cars. “None of this was your fault,” he says.
You laugh, a similar humourless sound to his earlier laughter.
“That’s not entirely true,” you say, thinking of all the missions you deliberately ran for Miroh. You thought you could make it mean something. You were just like your father, believing the ends would justify the means. You never tortured Chan yourself, but you were part of the operation that kept him in chains. There was nothing you could do to save him, but you certainly never tried.
He looks at you. You hear him move, the crinkle of his clothes, the water bottle he twists in his grip.
“I don’t blame you, you know,” he says. “Seriously. Today was crazy. Everything’s crazy. You’re not responsible for it.”
“I’m not not responsible,” you say. “My team is dead. My friend is gone. My dad – well, you can’t say I didn’t do that.”
“He had that one coming,” Chan says, his laugh a little more real. “No offense, but your dad kinda sucked.”
You find yourself laughing more genuinely too.
“Yeah,” you say. “I think we can agree on that.”
You fall into silence but it is more comfortable than before. There has been an undeniable tension since the moment he climbed in this car, looking at you with questioning confusion as you pointed a gun at him. You were panicking but he must have been equally bewildered. To him, you were a mission. He lives by his orders.
“I should apologize to you,” he says.
You look at him with obvious surprise. He meets your gaze, his expression sincere if not a little chagrined. His dimples show with a faint smile but it is not very happy.
“I’ve been an ass,” he says. “Today was – well.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Trust me,” you say. You try to lighten the mood with your tone. “I’m a Miroh. You will never have to apologize to me for as long as you live.”
He doesn’t laugh or even force that pretend sound. He stares ahead, his gaze sorrowful and faraway.
“Sorry, that was—” you begin.
He forces a smile and shakes his head.
“Nah,” he says. “Truce?”
Smiling feels awkward and your injuries probably make you a terrifying sight. But he accepts it, nodding at you. The car does not feel like such a claustrophobic space after that. The air is clear as it can be, considering who you are.
Neither of you has an identity right now. You were tethered to the same monstrosity and now it is gone. Everything is different.
You are too tired for another late-night heart-to-heart. It is time for rest.
-
There is enough cash for a cheap motel room. You find a quiet inn off the highway, sequestered beyond trees and countryside fields. You finally look at yourself properly in the bathroom mirror. You decide Chan’s earlier remarks were a severe understatement. You look like a battleground more than a soldier.
You injures will repair themselves with time, but it is a grisly sight. You shower for now. The soap and water helps.
You don the same shirt and underwear. New clothes will be a necessity. You mentally plan tomorrow, everything you will need to accrue before you formulate an attack. You have already mentally plotted the closest facilities, but you will need to verify their function and security protocol before striking.
You are mentally strategize as you exit the bathroom. You are distracted, thinking nothing of the fact you are wearing underwear and a shirt.
Chan already showered because you insisted, knowing you would take longer with your injuries. He is sitting on one of the single beds, sorting through his weapons. There is the gun you stole from Miroh plus his own array of armaments, things so well hidden you did not realize he even had them. They are laid out on the bed. He sits at the foot in his combat pants and nothing else, his dark hair damp and face bare.
You stroll past him, feeling his eyes as they lift from a gun to your bare legs. Now that you have scrubbed the worst of the brutality from your body, you feel like something of a person again. His flicker of attention ignites an undeniable spark in your belly. At first, it startles you, because the First Guard is the absolute last person you should ever think of like that.
But then you look at him. He has turned his eyes back to his work, saying nothing as he reloads the gun with second-nature efficiency. He is holding a weapon but, despite his conditioning, he is just a man.
You are a grounded person. You keep your head down and go about your tasks with confident certainty. He is here, you are here, it has been a long day, and it is not unusual for soldiers to seek comfort before the dawn of a new fight. Comfort is as important in healing and recuperation as anything else.
You sit on your own bed and look at him. He is effortlessly attractive with his dark hair and dark eyes, the sloping muscle of his firm body. You trace his chest and abdomen with your eyes. He does not lift his gaze, his attention on the gun.
“Do you want to fuck?” you ask.
Bang Chan is the best soldier in the force. You are pretty sure he has never fumbled a weapon quite so spectacularly. It clatters to the floor and he kicks it under your bed.
“What!” he says. He doesn’t look at you as he retrieves the gun, laughing a comically nervous giggle. “Um… what?” he asks again. Before you can answer, he shakes his head. “That’s uh, wait. Um. No. Bad idea, right? I mean—”
“It’s just a suggestion,” you say, not really offended. “It’s been a long day. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re both adults here.”
As you say it, you consider his circumstances. Chan has spent his entire life in the house of Miroh. He is not innocent but he might be inexperienced. This man has killed dozens of people and worked dozens of dangerous operations. His body is built for violence, not pleasure, and certainly not his own.
You find yourself blurting, “Have you ever…?”
“Yes,” he says firmly, brow furrowing with annoyance.
“All right, all right, just asking,” you say. You decide not to push the topic because it clearly makes him uncomfortable. You just cleared the air and you don’t want to muddy it again.
You change the topic swiftly. You make some empty remark about the weather as you turn on the small television. It’s an old contraption, buzzing with static as it flickers to life.
Chan resumes his work. He puts his head down to concentrate.
Your gaze inevitably strays to him.
His hair dries curly. It feels like an unusual thing to know about the First Guard. He looks so much younger with a clean face.
You jump when that face lifts. He looks at you.
“It wasn’t… you know…” There is a hunch to his shoulders, his eyes dropping to his work. “I just did it on missions, ya know?”
“Did it,” you say. “On missions.” It doesn’t register right away, partly because you are tired and partly because you did not expect him to continue this conversation. “You mean sex?” you ask. “You had sex on missions?”
“I had sex for missions,” he corrects, eyes on the weapon he is disassembling. He is acting like the conversation is meaningless, his attention divided, but you know his task does not require that degree of concentration. He could take that thing apart in perfect darkness.
“For missions,” you repeat. “What, like a honeypot type scheme? You?”
It seems ridiculous at first. You picture the First Guard smashing through windows and tackling you in stairwells. There is nothing seductive about that raw violence. But then you look at the man in front of you, young and handsome, the one who so easily charmed that cashier while pretending he was someone else. You picture him in a suit and tie, maybe a t-shirt and jeans. He would be devastating with the right preparation.
Chan is the best. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you he would excel regardless of the scheme.
“Something like that,” he says. He finally loads the magazine. “It wasn’t so bad, though. Seriously.” He twirls the gun with an effortless flourish. The grip finds his palm like the pistol is a part of him. “Trust me. My body was used for worse things. You get that too, yeah?”
You suppose you relate well enough. You were raised in the same program, put through the same grueling regimen. You have done things and you are not proud of them all. Your circumstances are not the same, though. You are each uniquely situated in your positions, even if you started in the same place.
We’re all that’s left.
Changbin’s voice in your head causes your mind to drift.
“What about you?” Chan asks, drawing you back to the conversation.
“Me?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “You.”
The First Guard is asking you about your sex life. You woke this morning in a safe house and put on combat gear, ready for another mundane day of field work. Somewhere in the middle of that was a cascade of violence. Now Bang Chan is asking about your sexual proclivities. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would laugh.
“I mean, nothing special,” you say, sufficing for the boring truth. “Mostly just this. Sex doesn’t really mean anything to me. It’s like exercise. Long nights on a job. You know. Fellow soldiers on a mission. Sometimes a civilian hook-up.”
You can’t parse the expression on his face. His gaze is somewhat judgemental, or maybe it is just scrutinizing, intensely focussed. It bristles your nerves. Your tone is more derisive when you say, “I’m not a romantic.” You hold his intense stare in your own. “Sex is just a bodily function to me. Sometimes the body needs the release or the pleasure or whatever, so I satisfy it and move on. That’s who I am. I work. I get the job done. That’s what I have always done.”
What you always did. You are not sure how to describe yourself anymore. You nonetheless punctuate that definitive statement. You assume that is the end of the conversation.
Then Chan asks, “So there’s… no one… for you?”
If he was any other soldier, you would think he was angling for flirtation, but he just turned down your very blatant offer. You do not know why he has any motivation to ask such personal and irrelevant questions.
It is not worth the argument. You conclude with a simple, “No.”
He nods, rocking his whole body with the force of his too-casual gesture. The tips of his ears are red, though your gaze does not stay there. You are quickly distracted by his bicep. He lifts an arm to rub the back of his neck, muscles softly rippling. His brazen questioning coupled with his awkward shyness is incongruous.
You think it is unlikely you will ever understand this man. He has been taken apart and put back together too many times. Fragments of him seem to fire all at once and in great contradiction.
“What about Changbin?” he asks. “He must be pretty special to you. Ya know, for you to have done all this for him.”
You are simultaneously struck by repulsion and sentiment. Changbin is very special and you regret not realizing it sooner. He has always been at your side, taking hits to protect you well before he became your bodyguard. He is the person who kept you smiling. You understood each other on a different level. His friendship was a rare gift and you took it for granted. Now you would do anything to have it back.
But also…
It’s Changbin. Ew. You are an only child but you feel a brotherly affection for him. Picturing him in any other context is nauseating. It just feels wrong.
You have such a visceral reaction of disgust that Chan laughs. He puts up his hands as if in surrender.
“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” he says. “Just friends, then?”
“Yes,” you say. “Though there’s nothing just about it.”
You have replayed that rooftop exchange a hundred times, torturing yourself with every possible outcome. If only you did this, if only he did that. You rearrange every second, trying to find a version with a different ending.
You wonder how he will react when he finds out what you did. Aha, murder princess living up to her name! he might say. The old man should have seen it coming. I knew you could it, but of course I did. I’m so much smarter and better looking than everyone else here.
You smile at the idea but it fades quickly.
Changbin was with you last night. He was sitting within arm’s reach, his scar under your fingertips. Now he could be anywhere and it’s all your fault. Not just because of the rooftop mistakes, but because of every mistake you made before that.
You exhale. Your shoulders shake. Chan watches you close a fist around a pillow.
“You all right?” he asks.
“I’m ending it,” you say.
“Sorry, what?”
“I always thought Miroh was an inevitability.” You are speaking out loud but mostly to yourself. Your gaze is fixed on some distant point, your mind and heart miles away. “But he wasn’t,” you say. “No more soldiers. No more experiments. No more bribes and theft and terror. My father is dead and I am going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I am going to make sure his work dies with him.”
You look at Chan. A day ago, you both existed for Miroh. Now you are two people planning to dismantle an empire from a motel room and a stolen car.
“Do you have a problem with that?” you ask.
A part of you is braced for the worst, that he will reject it, that he will revert to some kind of conditioned programming and drag you back to a facility for condemnation.
Even while you think it, you know it won’t happen. The eyes staring back at you are as clear as your own.
“I’m just the bodyguard,” Chan says. “I go wherever you go. Always.”
You feel invigorated to start now, but you are tired beneath the burst of adrenaline. You need to let your body heal.
The room is dark and you doze in the light of the television. After a couple hours, you roll over and find Chan is still awake. He is laying on his bed, arms crossed and eyes open. He is watching the shopping channel, ad after ad after ad, with far more intensity than it merits. His mind must be somewhere else. You can only imagine what he is thinking about.
You wonder how much he knows about himself. He responded to your half-coherent treasonous pleading. Does he remember hating Miroh? Or is he truly only helping you because of mission parameters?
It is easy to forget when he is a bare-faced, curly-haired young man slouching in a motel bed, but Bang Chan is lethally competent. He knew all of Miroh’s innermost schemes. It will come in handy now, but it makes him an irrevocably dark character, whether it was willing or not.
You wonder how much Changbin would trust him.
Wait.
You were so distracted with your plans, you did not question a moment in your conversation.
Chan mentioned Changbin.
You never told Chan the identity of your friend. When you were pleading with him, you just called him a friend.
Maybe Chan heard you talking to your father. Maybe he knows about your relationships because that was his job. Maybe he just guessed because Changbin volunteered himself in the ring.
Maybe Bang Chan remembers more than he is letting on.
-
You fall asleep to the soft drone of the television. Your mind is walking in circles and you dream of similar rings. Nightmares of chrome cages and steel traps, a suffocating helplessness squeezing your ribcage.
In your dreams, the room fills with smoke, a charcoal smog that chokes you as quickly as the compression on your chest. You look down but you can’t see your body, only feel it. Your invisible body struggles against invisible bindings. You gasp for breath.
Your father appears. It is him holding you down, a heavy hand in the middle of your chest. You cry out. You want to move but your body is trapped.
You close your eyes. When you open them, Changbin is there. He is still a teenager. His head is bleeding – why is his head bleeding? – but he wipes the blood as if it’s nothing more than sweat, all his focus on you.
Of course it is. He’s your friend. He’s here to save you. How did you not see it before? It’s like you have been moving through the world in a fog, the same grey smoke that envelopes you now. His face is the only clear image, gawky with youth but alive and real.
The weight is lifted off your chest. Black spots swarm your vision as you suck in a lungful of air.
When you look again, Changbin is grown. He looks like he did a day ago, dark bangs in his eyes, stocky build ready for a fight.
“I’m not leaving here without you.”
Not leaving here.
Not leaving here.
Not leaving here.
His voices dances around you. You are trapped in your body, a screaming, shrieking force, watching through dead eyes as the world spins. People pass but they don’t hear you. You try to reach for someone but your body doesn’t respond to your thoughts.
A labyrinthine stretch of road unfurls then disappears. You are standing in the infirmary at the main facility. You stare at yourself, the younger version of you. You are already dead behind the eyes, resigned to your situation. There are masked doctors around you. A tray full of needles. You watch as the long point penetrates your skin. You’re just a child, arm so small in comparison.
Your child face contorts with pain, an expression your adult face cannot mimic because you cannot control your face.
You remember the pain, even if you cannot cry. It was like nothing you had ever felt. The pain meant it was working. The medicant was only administered to you when it had been thoroughly tested. The first injection killed every subject except one. The second program was a success.
The children were writhing in pain for weeks, screaming and crying, begging for parents that never came. Yours did, looming over your bedside, touching your feverish forehead and speaking through the fog of pain.
An investment, Miroh called it. You’ll thank me one day.
Changbin is there. He is a child too. They put a needle in his skinny arm. He winces but he doesn’t cry. He isn’t scared of the needles or the pain, but he isn’t eager either. He is just there, his head down.
You blink and he is grown. The needle is still in his arm, only it is not an injection but an extraction. You watch the fullness of his face wither. They are taking too much. He becomes a child again, screaming in pain.
The same pain moves inside you.
No, worse.
Worse.
You never could have imagined a worse pain. It courses through your whole body, peeling apart your insides while you lay there, helpless, watching.
Your father stands over you. You’ll thank me one day.
He disappears. For a flickering moment, you see Bang Chan. Curly-haired, dimpled cheeks. He stutters and shakes like a bad film projection. His face contorts, changes. Wide dark eyes stare at you, his face covered in rain – water – tears? Pouring down his cheeks, mouth open and a mute cry in the grey.
You want to touch him but you cannot move. His face flickers again. You feel a tiny, infinitesimal twitch in your pinky.
Then he disappears altogether. Your father is there. He grabs you by the shoulders and slams you down, straight through the earth, holding you there in the darkness where no one can find you and you cannot move.
“Hey—” comes a voice, somehow reaching you in the depths of that pit. “Hey, hey, hey, wake up.”
In your dream, your father shoves you.
In reality, you are thrashing in a motel bed.
It takes a minute to realize you are awake, that everything was just a terrible dream. Your adrenaline is a white hot heat in your chest, your voice a strangled shriek as you clamour around the twisting sheets.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Chan says. “You’re just dreaming, whoa, easy, c’mon… It’s all good. Easy now. Breathe for me, okay?”
It feels like your first breath in years. It goes down shaky, your vision blurry. You realize Chan is holding your wrist, lightly but carefully. You blink up at him. He turned on the bedside light at some point. Half his face is lit in gold as he looks at you with concern. It is such a strange expression to see on him. These were the same eyes glaring at you over that uniform mask. Now that brow is pinched with worry, his own breath a staggered thing.
“You all right?” he asks.
You are sitting upright. You look at your wrist in his hand.
“Did I try to punch you again?” you ask.
“You missed,” he says, smiling. Then he shakes his head and says more seriously, “It was my fault. You were yelling in your sleep so I woke you up. I guess it was too fast or something. Just, you know, I don’t think the walls are very thick here.”
“Right,” you say. Your heart is still stampeding. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he says. “You… you good…?”
“Yeah,” you say. You are too weary for patience, so sarcasm spills out of you. “Peachy.”
He opens his mouth but you don’t wait to hear it. You slide out of bed and land on shaky legs. Your whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat. You want to shower, wash away the nightmare and the terror.
You are a light sleeper. You never dream like that. It is a testament to your exhaustion that you fell into such a deep sleep.
You tell yourself it was a dream, but your reassurances don’t work. Because it wasn’t really a dream, was it? It was flashes of real moments, real faces, real pain.
You stand under steady stream of hot water. You watch as the heat and the torrent opens a few scrapes, the water at your feet turning red. You think of Changbin with a needle in his arm, all that red pouring out of him. Standing there, helpless to do anything, like you are right now.
You have no idea where he is. You look at the scar on your palm and think of him in the moonlight, him in the ring, him at your side. A smile, a joke, a reassurance. A hand in yours, a promise.
He knew you better than you know yourself. He predicted this exact crisis of identity.
When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…
He drew that line across his palm. You picture a chasm of a wound, gaping and red, rushing red at your feet.
Just remember me, he said. I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh. I’m your soldier, not his.
True to his word, a man of principle to the end, he is bleeding for you right now.
In all your years of training, fighting, and soldiership, of missions and schemes, tricks and plots, you have always kept composure. Now it all weighs on you at once, every single second of your life, and it’s too much.
When was the last time you cried? You can’t even remember. It pours out of you now, big ugly gasping sobs that spill into the shower. You sit down where the water is pooling in pink. You wrap your arms around your legs and draw them up to your chest like a child.
You do not know how long you sit there, crying until it feels like there is no more water left in your body. It must be a long time because the water runs from hot to lukewarm. It feels strange to heave dry sobs with the shower still pouring down on you.
The water abruptly stops. You lift your head.
Chan stands there. He doesn’t look at you directly, his expression solemn, but he turns off the water and gets you a towel.
It feels surreal. Bang Chan is moving around a small motel bathroom, helping you like he has helped you all day. You stare at him with scrunched, sore eyes, your throat too strained to speak. You drop your legs and let him wrap the towel around you. Your heart kicks with momentary fright when he scoops you up, an effortless sweep.
No one has ever done something like this for you. You wouldn’t have let them, even if they tried.
You need it. You never realized how much you needed it. You are certain you will feel embarrassed in the morning, but right now you put your arms around his neck and cling for dear life.
He says nothing. He hooks an arm around your back and the other under your legs. He carries you back into the room and lays you in your bed, adjusting the towel for your modesty before pulling the blankets over you.
You continue to sputter and hiccup, looking at him as he moves. You wonder if he looks like this on a mission, determined and swift.
No. The First Guard wouldn’t fix the pillows under your head. He wouldn’t tuck the blankets around you.
Bang Chan stands over you, wearing nothing but his combat pants, no weapons or masks or piercing stares. He has curly dark hair and a soft face. When you touch his bare shoulder, he looks at you with a heart-shattering amount of tenderness. You didn’t know anyone could look at somebody that way, never mind him, never mind at you.
There’s a person inside him. There’s a person inside you. You don’t know who either of those people are, but you want to know. You need to know.
You curl your hand into a fist and feel the scar on your palm. A day ago, none of this would have mattered, but you know why it matters now.
“We have to find him,” you say. Your rasping voice is barely above a whisper.
Chan slowly cups his hand over yours, his palm to your knuckles, holding your touch against his shoulder. He squeezes your fingers. He nods.
“We will,” he says.
“You’ll help me?” you say.
“Yeah.” His own voice is a rasp, skirting the edge of emotion too. He swallows it down and smiles at you. “Like I said. I go wherever you go. Always.”
He sits with you in the soft golden light of that small bedside lamp. You do not think you can sleep again, but then exhaustion settles over you.
You are on the cusp of sleep when he touches your forehead. Your eyes meet briefly. It wakes you with a heart flutter, similar to a dream that drops you into reality. It is the heart-racing thump of a sudden fall. The kind that feels so real, more like a memory than a dream.
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The Aftermath
Premise: You're nearly killed on the job. Aaron is there to help you through the aftermath.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader
TW: descriptions of canon-typical violence, brief mention of ableism, survivor's guilt
Word count: approx. 1,000
The fraying threads of his throw blanket are the only things keeping you from crying. You pick at the red tassels, rolling them between your fingers over and over again. It’s a desperate Hail Mary. You’ve officially come unglued. You’re too shaken to do anything productive, like baking or taking a drive, without snapping into reality and breaking down. But the silence of nothingness is also too painfully loud. So you’re frozen, like an invalid, rhythmically stroking this fucking blanket because if you don’t, you’ll be there.
You’ll see the gun perfectly pointed at the inches between your eyebrows. You’ll see his smirk, the way he smiled, as his partner tightened the binds around your wrists, the warmth of your own blood dripping down your fingertips as the gun inched closer and closer and closer. You’ll watch as he and his smirk take over your field of vision as the carbon steel of the gun barrel brushes your forehead. He moves into kiss you– the fucking freak– before a shot rings out, and for a moment, you’re certain you’ve heard your own death– as if your spirit you weren’t sure you believed in left your body and you’re observing your last moments in an astral projection.
But you were listening to his death. The barrel of the gun fell away 100 times faster than it came as the unsub succumbed to the bullet through his temple. You screamed as you thrashed against the wooden pole, like a child screaming for a lifeguard. More shots rang out and you heard from roughly two yards behind you the crack of his accomplice's body smacking against the concrete.
It was over.
“Are you okay?” You flinch and whip around to the source of the hand that had the audacity to touch you. It was Aaron. You snap back into the present, and the coil in you relaxes. You force it back into its spiral before you come undone.
You allow yourself a moment to take in his face: the shadow of the deep set of his eyes and his signature tense brow. Your eyes disobediently drift to his torso and your breath hitches. You recall collapsing against it. You recall how the air in you and the room disappeared as you sobbed. You recall how he gently cupped your shoulder blade as you fell to pieces on his shoulder.
You recall how something in you froze when the paramedic touched your shoulder. How the fear choked you.
You can’t breathe.
Aaron’s suddenly kneeling before you. “Are you okay?”
You scratch your head. Your eyes burn. “I’m…” You rub the tassels between your fingers. “I’m losing it.” You whisper.
“You’re not losing it.”
“How would you know?” You ask genuinely.
“I know you.” He says gently. He pauses. “What you’re feeling is normal and right. It would be worrying if you weren’t affected by what happened.”
“Of course I’m affected by what happened.” It spills out of you before you can block it along with a few rogue tears.
He reaches for the coffee table and grabs a tissue. He offers it to you. You smear your cheeks dry.
“We can talk about it." He says. "I’m here to listen or talk with you if it will help.”
You were silent when the medics checked you over. You were silent on the jet ride. Aaron let you exist in your silence even when you both knew you would have to puke up the intimate details for an incidence report for the FBI that would be scrutinized by higher-ups and mental health officials. The most violating moments of your career, from start to finish, would be under the detective lights of anyone with the authority. It would be immortalized in some database. The most terrifying experience of your life couldn’t even just be yours.
You both knew that, even if he couldn’t know how much it terrified you to your bones– how violated you felt– to have your life like that on display to whomever it may concern. But he allowed you to cling to your safety blanket all the same.
But now you were off the jet and not in prying eyes. And though, over the course of your blissful yet short love affair, you knew he would not go away quite as easily. You suspected he wouldn’t pry; it wasn’t in his nature. But he would make it clear how open he was. And knowing you, and feeling the emotions bubbling against the lid of the pot you’d trapped them in, you felt like you had two options. And you didn’t like either.
“I don’t…” You swallow. “I’m upset.”
He gently grabs your hand like he’s cupping a fragile thing. When you don’t jerk, he squeezes it. The knot begins to unfurl and before you can register it, more tears stream down.
“I feel like I should’ve been ready for this, but I’m not.” You admit.
“Being held hostage?” He asks gently.
You sniffle. “It’s my job.”
“It’s not your job. Your job is to solve crimes. That was not another job responsibility. That was a traumatic experience.”
You sob. He cups your wet cheeks.
“I’m here.” He says. “I’m right here.”
“How can I go back to work after this?”
“You don’t have to bounce back.” He assures.
“I feel…I feel…I can’t put it into words.” You wipe your face in frustration.
“Is trying to explain it helping or hurting?”
You sniffle, mucus uncomfortably coating your throat. “I think it will help if I…stop being so hard on myself.” You confess. “It’s just…I feel so frozen. I still feel frozen.”
“It’s normal to feel that way directly following something like this." He says gently.
You shake your head. “No, I’m not talking about the aftermath. I’m talking about during. When I was tied there.” You swallow thickly. “When he had me.”
“I couldn’t breathe.” You continue, grateful he gave you a moment of silence to pull your thoughts together. “I was…helpless. At their mercy and I…I...”
You squeeze the blanket in a white knuckle grip. “How could they do that to me? How could that happen to me? How can…how can I feel this way?”
His eyebrow furrows. “What do you mean?” You know he can feel the guilt radiating off of you.
“He killed those other young women. Mutilated them. Violated them. I was the lucky one, wasn’t I?” your voice cracks.
“No. No one is lucky in a situation like this. Your pain is valid and doesn’t take anything away from his other victims.”
“I feel helpless.”
“It’s okay to feel helpless.”
Something in you jumps at his response. “What do you mean?” You sniffle.
He bites his tongue. You see that furrow in his expression– like he’s weighing his approach. “Your life was in grave danger. The pain won’t go away; your mind and body need time to heal. And I swear I will take care of you as long as you need. You have all the time in the world to recuperate.”
“What about–”
“You don’t need to worry about work right now. All I want you to do is worry about you.”
Your lip can’t help but quirk upwards. “Pot meet kettle.”
He smiles. “Pot meet kettle.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “I love you. I’m here for you.”
“I love you too.”
He hugs you, his arms warming you through the cover of the throw blanket. You’re can't comprehend how you will heal from this. But in his arms, you know you won't be walking alone.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Grateful for you <3
#aaron hotch x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x reader#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fanfiction#hotch
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Lover Boy-The Relationship
~Lover Boy by Phum Viphurit~
Author's Note: Listen idk
Summary: Luke and Y/N put a title on their relationship
Warnings: underage drinking
Word Count: 2,117
Luke Hughes x Edwards sister!reader
She sat at the table with Nessa beside her, watching the boys be swarmed with girls. She clenched her jaw as she watched Luke flirt with a short blonde girl. Nessa rested her hand onto Y/N’s arm trying to be reassuring.
Ethan wandered towards the pair, alone. He held three drinks in his hand as he delicately rested them onto the table. The three glasses were filled to the brim with mixed drinks. Y/N took a hold of one of the glasses and began to sip for several seconds. She forced her gaze back down at the drink, staring at the drink less full.
Ethan stared towards her, wide eyed. He slowly sat down, sliding his glass towards himself. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked before he took a sip of his drink. She shrugged as she pushed the glass away from her. “Your date not go well last night?” he asked.
It was the exact opposite, it was the best night she’s ever had. They didn’t get back to their dorm building until after two in the morning. She watched as Luke’s gaze shifted towards their table. He straightened his posture as he smiled politely towards the girl before he wandered away from the crowd.
“It was fine,” she muttered, lying. Ethan nodded suspiciously.
She watched him walk towards the table, keeping his attention towards Ethan. Y/N dropped her gaze towards her phone on the table. She began scrolling through Instagram.
“What happened?” Ethan asked Luke, he shrugged as a reply as he rested his hands on the table. He let out a huff of air as he shifted his gaze towards Y/N, his cheeks flushing red.
“She kept asking about when I’ll be in the NHL, not even sure she knows my name,” Luke said while chuckling nervously, he met Y/N’s gaze. She clenched her jaw as she looked towards Nessa.
“That’s annoying,” Ethan said before he took a sip of his drink, his eyes danced around the bar. “I’m gonna go talk to some girl,” he continued as he danced awkwardly with the drink in his hand away from the table. He pointed towards Y/N while nodding dramatically. He was drunk, it was easy to tell, he never dances unless he was drinking. Y/N smiled towards him before she shifted her gaze towards Luke.
Luke shifted awkwardly as he glanced towards Nessa before he met Y/N’s gaze again. “I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Nessa muttered as she stood up from the table and began manuering through the bar away from the pair.
Luke leaned his body against the table, a shy smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, she came up to me. I didn’t-”
“Luke,” she interrupted, leaning towards him. His mouth clamped shut. “It’s not like we’re dating,” she said as she smiled kindly towards him. He leaned towards her, glancing around him. He checked to see if there were any wandering eyes.
“Well, that’s the goal though, right?” he asked, widening his eyes.
“Is it?” she asked while a smirk toyed to her lips.
He scoffed playfully as he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. His lips curled up in a teasing smirk. “I mean of course,” he let out as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulled his lips between his teeth.
Before she could say anything, Dylan came up behind Luke smacking his hand against his shoulder, “Come on, we're doing shots,” Dylan took a hold of Luke’s bicep forcing him away from the table. Luke smiled towards her as he shook his head laughing.
She dropped her gaze towards the drink, she took a hold of her straw and began stirring her drink.
~~~
Several hours later, Luke was walking both Nessa and Y/N back to their dorm. They were waiting in the elevator. It was awkward silence as Nessa was standing between Luke and Y/N.
Nessa’s phone began buzzing in her pocket, she quickly pulled it out and brought her phone to her ear. “Hey,” she whispered, her eyes widened as she glanced towards Y/N. “Yeah, I’ll be down in like two minutes,” she mumbled, “Alright, love you.”
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she looked Nessa up and down.
“Derek’s here, we’re gonna go to his place,” she explained as she looked towards Luke. The elevator doors opened, letting Luke and Y/N step off. Nessa pressed the lobby button as she winked towards the pair.
They stared towards one another, fighting off the smiles forming on their lips. “She’s ridicious,” Y/N let out as she started walking backwards towards her end of the hallway. She held out her hand towards him. He excitedly took a hold of her hand, letting her lead him astray towards her room.
Shamelessly, he stared towards her frame, watching her hips sway back and forth. “What am I supposed to tell Duker?” he mumbled as she slowly stopped in front of her door, leaning her back against the door. He rested his hands against the door, holding her in place. She looked towards him, shrugging his shoulders.
“Tell him you changed your mind about the girl at the bar,” she teased.
“He knows I’m walking you to your dorm because Eddie asked me too,” he mumbled as he brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face.
“Tell Duker that I didn’t want to be alone and you slept on my floor,” she said as she dug her keys out of her pocket. She held the keys in front of her face, he gladly took them and unlocked the door for her.
“He’s not going to believe that,” he whispered as he unlocked the door, handing her the keys before he shoved the door open. He rested his hands onto her hips as he guided her into the dorm room. “But I don’t really care,” he mumbled as he locked the door behind him before he planted his lips onto hers.
She hummed against his lips as he tightened his grip against her hips. She pulled away, taking a deep breath, “We’re not-” she trailed off, suddenly very nervous. He shook his head instantly.
“No, we’re gonna do a lot of this,” he mumbled slowly before he pressed his lips against hers. She began stumbling backwards towards her bed as their lips remained connected. Her body began to tingle as he loosened his grip along her body, gliding his hands delicately along her hips.
She pulled away from him, breathily as she sat down on her bed, looking up towards him. He took in a sharp breath as he scanned her features. Everything about her seemed perfect. He delicately reached his hand towards her cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear.
He leaned down towards her, gliding his hand from her jaw towards her chin. He tilted her head up. He leaned towards her, his lips hovering over her own. He smiled as he watched her lean towards him, craving his lips against hers.
His phone began vibrating in his pocket, he groaned as he pulled away from her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He pulled his phone from his pocket to see Dylan calling him. He pulled it towards his ear. She sighed as she hopped off the bed and wandered towards her closet.
He watched her movements, “Duker what’s up?” Luke asked as he watched her reach into her closet for comfy clothes. She tilted her head to the side while widening her eyes. Luke smiled as he rolled his eyes playfully. He spun around facing away from her.
“I’m staying at Rutger’s to-tonight, I can’t get back to the ro-room,” Dylan slurred. There was shuffling on his end of the phone.
“He’s fucked man, Kayleigh and I are taking care of him,” Rutger offered on the phone.
“Yeah, alright, well tell him to call me in the morning,” Luke expressed as he kept staring towards the small alarm clock on her side table.
“Will do, you make it back to your room okay?” Rutger asked. Luke cheeks flushed red as he took in a sharp breath.
“Yeah, yeah,” he lied. Rutger hummed.
“Good, man, see you tomorrow,” Rutger said before he hung up the phone.
Luke pulled the phone from his ear, he delicately placed it down onto the side table, tilting his head back. “Can I look at you now?” he asked, quietly. She hummed as he spun around. She smiled as she walked towards him.
“Dylan okay?” she asked as she delicately rested her hands onto his chest.
“He’s going to regret being alive tomorrow but Rutger and Kayleigh are taking care of him,” Luke explained as he took a hold of her waist, pulling her towards him. “Come on,” he whispered as he pressed his lips against her cheek, “Let’s get some sleep,”
He reached around her waist, lifting her up in the air. A dramatic laugh leaves her throat as she is thrown onto the mattress. “Luke, what are you doing?” she asked as she took in a sharp breath. He tugged on the comforter as he climbed underneath the blanket, she quickly tucked her legs underneath. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him. He pressed his lips against her shoulder. “We cuddle now?” she asked as she took a hold of his hand, interlocking their fingers. He hummed as he nuzzled into her neck.
She smiled to herself as she pushed herself back, creating less space between them. “Is that okay?” he asked, his voice slightly rasped. She spun arond slowly, meeting his gaze. She took her hand away from his and rested it onto his cheek, running her thumb across his cheek.
“Think so,” she muttered as she pulled him towards her, kissing him delicately.
~~~
It had been nearly a month since their first date together. They’ve practically spent nearly every night together they could. Whether that was a group setting with the other players or just themselves.
The only other person that knew about their situation was Nessa. It was starting to become a lot of pressure for her. She was doing everything in her power to not let it slip.
Luke and Y/N were walking side by side through the dining hall searching for something to eat. Ethan, Dylan, Nessa, and Derek were all wandering around as well.
“Can we tell Duker? It would make things so much easier,” he whispered as he smiled politely to a friend from one of his classes. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.
“You tell Dylan and then he tells Jacob and then he tells Rutger and then-” she rambled.
“Okay, okay, I get it. I just-when can we start telling people?” he asked as he guided her towards one of the stations. He picked up a plate and began adding chicken to his plate. She sighed as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face.
“When this becomes serious,” she muttered as she walked away from him. Luke lifted his gaze as he watched her walk away from. He scoffed while rolling his eyes.
He clenched his jaw as he finished making his plate. He walked towards the large circle booth the other members of their little friend group were sitting at. There was only one spot left, and it was on the end beside Ethan. Y/N was sitting beside Nessa on the other side of the table.
“Hughesy, are you going out tomorrow night? Might be our last friday we can go out for a while,” Ethan asked before he took a dramatic bite of his salad on his plate. Luke shook his head as he met Y/N’s gaze for a second.
A small smirk formed onto his lips, “I’m taking my girlfriend out to dinner and we’re going to this drive-in movie tomorrow,” he let out. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she kept her gaze towards her food, Nessa gripped her thigh.
The boys all cheer, excitedly, “Since when dude?” Dylan said, reaching across the table to scruff Luke’s hair. He leaned away with a smirk on his lips, he shrugged slightly.
“I haven’t really asked her yet, but pretty sure she’s my girlfriend,” he said, switching his gaze towards Y/N. Her gaze was still staring at her food.
Ethan wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulder, glancing towards Y/N and back towards Luke, “You happy?” Ethan questioned, meeting Luke’s eye. Luke nodded, nervously. “Good,” he muttered as he switched his gaze back towards Y/N.
She finally lifted her head to meet Ethan’s gaze, he winked towards her.
#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes#luke hughes fanfic#hockey#nhl imagines#nhl#nhl x reader#nhl fic#umich imagine#umich hockey#umich#Ethan edwards#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagines#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagines#quinn hughes x reader#nj devils#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils x reader
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I'll Shut You Up (18 + Fic) (Ch. 1/?)
Pairing(s): Rhea Ripley/Fem. Reader
Disclaimer: This is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I try to tag my work appropriately and if you still choose to click and read, do so at your own discretion. Thank you for the love, always, and I hope you enjoy!
Summary: It’s pretty well known that Rhea and Fem. Reader can’t stand one another. Reader thinks Rhea’s way cockier than she should be and Rhea thinks as highly about Reader as much as she thinks about the dirt at the bottom of her boot. Well… so they say, at least. A packed hotel mishap forces them to bunk together, and Rhea presses her luck by running her mouth.
Fic Tag(s): 18+, enemies to hatefucking, forced proximity, overbooked hotel, WM weekend, Bottom Sub!Rhea, Dom Top!Reader, bratty!Rhea, a little bit of oral (Rhea receiving) anal play/penetration, size difference, strap-on, nipple play, hair-pulling, spit for lube (I KNOWWW IM SORRY), begging, spanking, biting, slapping, choking.)
Chapter Word Count: 584
“Is it my card or are there no more rooms left?” I asked the lady at the front desk who already seemed just as stressed and exhausted as I was.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” She apologized as she nodded. “But it seems that there was a bit of a mishap when your reservation was made. Due to the wrestling events taking place over the weekend, we’re completely booked. And because of that it seems that your room was accidentally double booked through an error in our system. I’m so sorry, ma'am.” She said.
A deep frown creased her brow before she smiled, and she offered me a discount voucher for my room and for anything that I wanted from room service.
I kindly rejected the offer but asked, “Am I at least rooming with another wrestler?”
When she confirmed that I was, I breathed a little bit in relief as we wrapped things up and I received my room key- I was on the 3rd floor.
I wasn’t besties with the entire locker room, but least I wouldn’t be stuck with a complete stranger.
Although, there were definitely some people in the locker room that I would always avoid like the plague if I could help it.
Rhea Ripley was number one on that list…
We never could stand each other for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of the locker room.
Where I was avoidant, Rhea was insufferable, always making it a point to take jabs at me whenever she could, be it online or face-to-face.
Made me feel like I was an insignificant little bug that she could squash in .2 seconds.
She acted like she was hot shit, and she knew it.
Which physically, that may be true.
But she quickly learned that I didn’t take well to attempts at intimidation.
But lately, she’d switched gears and began flirting with me, heavily, and then we’d be back to insulting each other.
She claimed it was just for shits and giggles and because she enjoyed how “flustered” it would get me, which… ew.
It only got me “flustered” because they were cheap insults- mostly about my small height and the sexual inexperience she assumed I had.
I told myself that she was as tolerable as a canker sore- even though I could admit that on a certain level, our back and forth excited me.
…. And actually, sometimes, in the deep, dark recesses of my filthy mind, I didn’t know if I wanted to slap her or… or if I wanted to slap her and then teach her a very valuable lesson.
Bend her over.
Dominate her.
Make her ass glow red with my handprints etched onto them like the tattoos on her body and her blue eyes as glassy as a porcelain doll’s…
And that just made me despise her even more.
How dare she awaken any kind of desire in me when she was such a raging brat?
Then again, I could that admit brats could be really fucking fun.
But she… she got under my skin in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
“Just please don’t let it be Rhea fucking Rip-…” I mumbled to myself as I slid the keycard into the door as soon as I found my room.
My words trailed off and I let out a “Absolutely fucking not.” as soon as I walked further into the room, and I laid my eyes on the smirking-and almost naked- figure lounging in the king-sized bed in front of me...
Next Chapter
@theworldofotps @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @harmshake @mzv11 @letsgivethisonemoreshot @theundertakeriscoming @slutfortheeclaymore @auraravenora77 @niknakattack @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @babiidee28 @thesamoanqueen @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts @xndalynch @84reedsy @romanstheory @kianaleani @elefrog25-blog @motherknuckers @phantasmacabre @lxndonorris @girlnred @yo-yo89 @smile1318 @sassginaswanmills @exhaustedclown @aritannahrocks1300 @superlove167 @ayeeitsali @queencherryberry @truefant4sy @codyswhitebelt @blackmeetsworld @salirophiliac @kayfabebabe @rhea-the-eradicator @souleatermia @bittersweetastoria @domripley @wrestlingprincess80 @myluvrrhea @wandering-fox
#rhea ripley#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley x fem reader#wwe fic#wwe smut#wwe fan fiction#rhea ripley smut#rhea ripley fan fiction#\
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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)
Series Masterlist | Previous episode
Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader
Word Count: 10.7 K
Warnings: ANGST! Use of the unforgivables, bIood, major and minor character dеath, major sad moments, mental breakdowns, taking characters to their breaking point, pain, griеf… I’m really sorry.
Prompt: What happens when you hear something dreadful happening, will you stand up for what's right? Will you stay quiet for the greater good?
This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp
A/N: This chapter is getting shadowbanned no matter what I change so please like, reblog and comment so it does not go under the radar.
Chapter 44: No One But You
A hand above the water
An angel reachin' for the sky
Is it raining in Heaven?
Do you want us to cry?
Where the hell is the alcohol in this party? You wondered as you stepped out of the room, dealing with Arkalis and Evan was more than enough for the rest of the night. If only you could find a corner, pull out a book and focus on that without being bothered by anything or anyone else, you’d be satisfied. Of course, that could not be the case, could it?
“Well look who’s here?” Barty said with a smile as he blocked your path.
“Oh, Barty!” you said as you tilted your head. “You should probably go look for Evan, he seemed like he needed… a friend.”
Barty’s eyes seemed to burn when you spoke, but you stood your ground, even as he approached you with ferocity. He might be as tall as you were, even if younger, and he might have been able to overpower you in the past, but he was not about to make a scene in the middle of the party, he wasn’t dumb, he had never been. And clearly, he wasn’t important enough for the deatheater clique to be at the private dinner, he didn’t need unwanted attention.
“If you did something to him again…” he said, voice low and threatening.
You blinked calmly at him, “Barty… in this party, you should be careful with the things that come out of your mouth.” He grabbed onto your wrist, anger clearly seething from him. “I didn’t touch him,” you said as you looked down at his hand and then back at his face, “I’d suggest you’d have the decency of doing the same.”
Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, Barty finally let go of his hold on you but stayed in his place, glaring now at the person standing behind you.
“And I would suggest you turn the fuck away before I hex you again. Remember where you are Crouch. This might be Arkalis’ dinner, but my father was the one to invite Tom here.”
Barty gave you another look of hatred and then stormed off. You sighed and turned back to look at Regulus.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, eyebrows softly knit in concern.
“No,” you said as you shook your head and moved your hand a little bit, it was the same arm Evan had latched onto you earlier, but frankly, after having fallen from your broom, punched by bludgers, dragged by water spirits and scratched by werewolves, this felt like nothing. “Is there Firewhiskey here?”
“Firewhiskey?” Regulus asked in disbelief. “You want to drink?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never sneaked out Firewhiskey from your father’s stash.” Regulus gave you a look in return that was answer enough. “So, you’ve never drunk?”
He shook his head and you laughed at that, “Such a good boy,” you teased. In response, Regulus pushed you to the side, which only made you laugh a little more. “Let’s find some,” you said with a smile, Regulus tilted his head to the side disapprovingly.
“It’s a terrible idea to do it here,” he responded.
“Come on, Reg, there’s no way you want to see whatever the hell those people consider to be a show, do you?”
Regulus averted your gaze, and you narrowed your eyes at him. Does he know something…
A glass of cold water over your dress diverted your thoughts. “Oh, sorry,” the girl said, she had a streak of white hair pulled back behind her ears and looked far from being sorry.
Your dress was black, so whatever she had poured, certainly didn’t ruin the look, even if it was fucking freezing you now, “Whatever, I’ll just use a drying spell,” you said as you pulled your wand out and waved it over your dress.
“You’re Silas’ daughter, aren’t you? You were sitting next to Lucius at the dinner.”
You turned to her with a small frown, she was the girl talking to Barty earlier, the one that looked like Sirius and Regulus. You extended your hand politely, “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”
She seemed irritated at your lack of recognition. “This is my cousin Narcissa, Cygnus’ daughter,” Reggie said, introducing her to you.
Cygnus’ daughter… Where had you heard that name? Right, Andromeda’s sister, you thought. You hadn’t spoken much to Andromeda Tonks, though Sirius and Remus had shown you some of her letters. As far as you knew, she had been kicked out of the family in the same way Sirius had, and her sisters had done nothing to help them. But then again, Regulus hadn’t helped Sirius either and you didn’t hate him for that.
“Nice to meet you,” you added, she gave you a look before actually shaking your hand.
“You’re dating Sirius,” she added, her tone making it clear that she looked down on you for it.
“Cissy,” Regulus said in a warning tone.
“I am, he’s delightful, you should know since you grew up together.”
She scoffed. “Sirius is a disaster. He would always spark chaos and make stupid pranks on the parties, I’m glad he’s not invited anymore. He wears that awful leather jacket all the time, pretending to be a muggle or whatever and he’s insufferably loud.”
“All of which I find absolutely charming,” you replied with a nonchalant smile, “You do not?”
Cissy, as Regulus called her, scoffed again. “Just stay away from Lucius,” she added before leaving you and Regulus behind in favour of talking with someone else, her long hair flipping behind her in a rather majestic way that you would have praised had she not been a total bitch to Sirius. It must be in their genes, you thought, the Blacks have amazing hair.
You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “The hell was that about?”
“Lucius is her fiancé, she must have seen you talking to him at the dinner,” Regulus said. “You… looked very interested in whatever he was telling you.”
“Oh, that?” You asked with a smile that turned into a smirk, “I was trying to piss Evan off.”
“I figured.”
“Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an offence.” Regulus raised his eyebrows at you and you gasped in disbelief. Then you spotted someone serving themselves a drink over in the far corner, it was the bar. You smirked, “Come on Reg, I’ll teach you how to drink.”
“I don’t need to–”
“Just come,” you added and pulled him along with you, you managed to convince the house elf there to give you a half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey after telling them Arkalis had asked you to take them to him and pulled Reggie along towards a balcony.
“It’s cold,” he said as the two of you stepped out, you could see the puff of condensed air blowing from his mouth as he spoke.
“This’ll warm you up,” you said as you offered him the bottle. He gave you an exasperated look that was an awful lot like Sirius’ but took the bottle in his hands anyway, taking a small sip and scrunching up his face as he felt the bitter taste. Then he coughed and covered his mouth with his arm as he returned the bottle to you with a disgusted frown, you were laughing so much it took you a second to lean closer to him and place your hand on his back. “You all right?”
“No wonder they call it Firewhiskey,” he said as he managed to catch his breath. You laughed again, still rubbing your hand over his back, he shook his head as he stood straight. He was a deal taller than you now, it hadn’t quite settled back in school, but it was evident now. “Why would you even drink it?”
“Do you not feel warmer?” you asked as with a raised eyebrow, he seemed to think about it for a second. You were now taking your own sip of the bottle.
“A warming spell would for sure do the trick.”
You sighed and leaned over to look at the sky, you could see Sirius’ star up there, shiny and beautiful, just like him. Walburga and Orion might have been awful, but they definitely had a good eye for picking out names, even if they were just copying those of the stars.
“Yeah, but it would take away the fun,” you said, head still tilted up and looking at the sky. You heard a few whispers from the inside, and you leaned your head over the window, there were people crowding a certain area of the room. Regulus stepped in between you and the window.
“How’s school going?”
You gave him a look, that was a stupid question.
“I mean, I saw you at the Slug Party, you’ve been doing good at potions, haven’t you?” he pressed.
“Haven’t I?” you asked with a frown, allowing your gaze to turn back to him. “It’s all thanks to my partner, he’s really good?”
“Sirius?” Regulus asked, he had never heard of his brother being remarkably good at potions.
“What? No, my potions partner, Remus.”
“Ah… of course,” he said, now he had heard how good his brother’s best friend was. He was even a prefect.
“But I’m shit at transfiguration,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t think Minnie and Horace are friends enough to discuss such things, though.”
“I could teach you,” he offered.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got a tutor.” You tilted your head to the side to try and see inside and then he moved, blocking your line of sight again. “Regulus?”
“Yeah?” he asked, playing dumb.
“You know what’s happening there, don’t you?”
He swallowed thickly, “Nothing you should be concerned about, it’s adult stuff.” You shook your head as that and motioned to move inside but he stopped you again. “Please!” He sounded desperate. “Let’s stay here, and drink a bit more, I’m… I’m not looking forward to seeing my parents again.”
You sighed, you knew how delicate it was for both Regulus and Sirius to deal with Walburga and Orion, and perhaps you shouldn’t have listened, you should have followed your instinct and walked inside, but there was something about the pleading expression Regulus had made that convinced you. You huffed out a breath and turned back to him. “How’s school for you? Messing with Severus didn’t put you on the spot, did it?”
Regulus shook his head and carefully moved to the side, pulling his wand from his pocket and secretly casting a spell towards the doors so the sounds from the inside wouldn’t filter to the outside. You were looking at his face, so determined to figure out his emotions that you failed to notice what he was doing.
“Not at all,” he responded. “Severus thinks it was all your fault.”
You pouted at that, “How could it even be my fault, he’s the one that ate the snacks, I didn’t even offer them to him.”
Regulus laughed at that, “So you had nothing to do? No emotional manipulation involved?”
“What do you take me for? A housemate?”
“Haven’t you been saying you ‘missed the whole indoctrination’ part by getting to Hogwarts so late?”
“Doesn’t change the fact the snakes can be very manipulative. You know the muggles think they’re to blame for losing paradise.”
Regulus huffed as he shook his head, he was just proving your point right then and there, “Well, I’ve never met a snake with ‘Vixen’ as a nickname.”
“You know about that?” you asked in disbelief. “How do you even know about that?”
“The entire school knows about that! Potter isn’t exactly subtle when he calls you. To be honest, I thought he was pissed the first time I heard it, and then I was surprised you weren’t insulted by it.”
“It’s an inside joke.”
“I could tell,” he responded and then smirked, almost imperceptibly, “I think it fits.”
“Ass,” you said with a laugh and pushed him lightly. He laughed along with you.
Talking with Regulus was fun, he told you more about the Slytherin common room, he mentioned seeing the giant squid through their window once when he was in his second year studying for a quiz late at night, and he told you about the time he had done the quidditch trials, back when Dorcas was still in the team. He asked you about the race, and you told him that’s when you and Sirius got together.
You also told him about some of the fun things you had done with the boys, like picnics near the lake and even sneaking out at night to get books from the forbidden section. He asked you to teach him the disillusionment charm one day, and you promised you would.
While the rest of his family was a piece of work, you thought Regulus had come out as nice as Sirius, even if a little more stuck up. You didn’t mind though, it was part of his own charm. He’d make a great brother-in-law…
“And then Solacis added the last ingredient of the potion, and it blew up on their faces…” he told you with a smile, mimicking the explosion with his own hands. The alcohol had warmed his cheeks and made him a lot more expressive by now. You laughed along with him.
“Yeah? And what did Slughorn do?”
“Nothing, he was being distracted by Nox so they wouldn’t fail the both of us,” he explained. “Nox added dragon breath to his potion and it clogged the entire classroom with purple smoke.”
“For real?”
He nodded excitedly, it was nice to see Regulus more relaxed, “Nox thought it was amazing and tried switching the ingredients around, he now knows how to make smoke of almost any colour, we’ve used it on parties so many times since then.”
“I had no idea Nox was that into potions…”
“Oh, he loves them! Slughorn doesn’t like him too much though, he’s always doing his own experiments in the back of the classroom instead of focusing on the class, and often ends up changing the potions around and–” a harrowing scream cut through his words.
Your head snapped towards the inside and Regulus blinked a couple of times. His spell! It had worn out.
But I’m not that drunk, he thought, he was certainly having fun, but that was just a consequence of hanging out with you.
“What the hell was that?” you asked as you looked inside, but he stood in between you and the door in a second.
You gave Regulus a stern look but he shook his head really fast, he looked nervous, like a kid that had done something terrible and didn’t want his parents to find out.
“Regulus,” you said as you tried to look over his shoulder, but he moved to block your sight again. “Regulus, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. You… you don’t want to know, just trust me.” It was more a plea than anything else.
You took a step back, “Have you been distracting me?”
Regulus swallowed and then nodded, “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” You asked, voice dry.
“I don’t want you to see what’s happening in there.”
“And…”
“Your mum might have implied I’d be better this way as well.”
You nodded, you weren’t angry at Regulus, at this point you understood why he did most of the things he did, and you knew whatever he was doing now, it was because he wanted to protect you from his parents and whatever it was they were doing.
“Will you tell me what’s happening inside?”
“Will you promise not to enter if I do?”
You sighed, “You know I cannot do that, Reg.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Yeah?! For me or for the person screaming?”
“If you do anything reckless–”
You squared your shoulders, determined. “Regulus, let me in.”
He didn’t move. You tried to move to the side and he moved along with you, effectively blocking your way again, you scoffed, slightly exasperated.
“Regulus, I–” You were interrupted by another harrowing screaming, and then a silence so eerie it chilled your very bones. You looked at him, straight in the eyes, his eyes were red-rimmed and shiny, you were about to ask him what the hell was going on when a cheer erupted from the inside. All of the wizards were clapping, as if whatever had happened was cause for celebration.
Regulus winced at that which only made you worry more about what was happening inside.
“You don’t need to see that, trust me,” he repeated. Thunder came from above and then a smokey green skull appeared in the sky. There was a snake protruding from its mouth, slowly swirling around the skull. You swallowed, you knew exactly what that was, Seraphina had shown you pictures, and she had told you that one of the reasons they’d cast that spell was because… they had just murdered a muggle.
You swallowed thickly, the scream, the silence, the cheering. It all made sense now. They had been tоrturing someone and you had been distracted, you weren’t even given the chance to stop it. But then again, could you have stopped it? One person –nay, a 6th year– against an entire army of deatheaters, you might have been a good duelist, but you weren’t narcissistic enough to believe you could take them all down by yourself
Perhaps it really was better to be out here, avoiding the reality that was inside and hanging out with the one person in this entire party that you’d actually want to talk to. You didn’t appreciate being tricked, you hated that Regulus had decided to keep you in the dark, but at the same time, you were thankful. He had spared you from having to witness whatever horrors were being committed inside.
You were just a kid, why was it your responsibility to stop it? Why was it your war to fight? It was fucking unfair.
“Trust me,” Regulus said, “stay here, it’s better this way.”
You swallowed, and there was another scream, you shut your eyes and turned your gaze to the side, you could feel tears prickling in your eyes.
“It’s not your fault, you won’t be able to do anything, even if you witness it.”
You turned back to look at him, your teeth pressed so hard against each other it hurt, “They’re kiIling muggles,” you whispered.
Regulus sighed, his eyes were just as glassy as yours, “We can’t do anything about it.”
You huffed and looked at nowhere in particular. There was another scream, and then another one, and then there was silence and cheers. You sank down to the floor, the snake in the sky was still crawling around. Your breath was slow and controlled as if you were trying to keep it together. The first scream, you couldn’t have blamed yourself for it. The first one out? You had no idea. But this one?
You already knew what was happening and chose to stay outside with Regulus. You chose to ignore it and an innocent had diеd. Were you any different from your father now? He had sacrificed Sirius and Regulus for his political means –and he hadn’t even gotten them kiIled– and now you were letting those innocent people diе.
For what? To be the perfect daughter? To play the part they asked you to play and then pretend like nothing had happened? To write a letter to Nightshade and Dumbledore telling them everything that had happened tonight and becoming a valuable asset? A spy? Was that what you wanted to be? Was that what you were meant to do? Was it worth it to let all these people diе, in order to win the war in the future? Were lives exchangeable like that? One life for a hundred, does that… make it worth it?
There was another harrowing scream and then silence and then more cheers. You dug your head on your knees.
You
Were
Heinous
As much as you considered your father to be.
Was stopping a war, winning a war, any different from the way he coveted power? Was it any difference in doing things for the greater good to doing things for power if the casualties were exactly the same? People were dying, and you were too much of a coward to do anything about it. Hiding behind a mask of righteousness and pretending it was all for the greater good –It was, but it didn’t feel right.
Sacrificing innocents was never okay, not even for the greater good, and yet… you were here, crouching on the floor, and wishing you were somewhere else, wishing you hadn’t heard that first scream, and that Regulus was still telling you about Nox and how good he was in potions and so on. You wanted to feel like things were normal, like there wasn’t a war; like you were a normal teen, not one being trained to be a soldier, a spy, a warrior.
Was it selfish to wish for all of this to go away? To wish to be elsewhere? Were you selfish? And if you were then, for what?
For letting innocents diе or for wishing you were ignorant about it?
There it was, the eerie silence again. And then a wicked laugh. “Would you look at that? the little witch has claws?”
The what she said?
You turned your head to Regulus and the look he gave you in return made you instantly know that whatever was going on inside was as much of a surprise to him as it was to you.
“Reg wha– What does she mean by witch?”
“I–” he stuttered and turned to look back, there wasn’t much he could see, except for Bella’s black hair bouncing around as she said something else. “I’m not sure but–”
“Filthy mudblood!” the same voice roared and then there were screams.
But there was something about those screams, they were different from the rest… And not because it was a witch but because… you gasped when the realisation hit you –you knew that person.
“Nina,” you whispered.
“What?” Regulus asked, confused.
“That’s Nina!” you repeated as you stood up and tried to get inside.
Regulus squared his shoulders to block your path, and then gently placed his hand on your arm, “There’s nothing you can do, forget it.”
“They have kilIed muggles, Regulus. What’s stopping them from doing the same thing to her?”
Regulus shook his head, “You cannot intervene, even if you know her.”
“Even if I– Regulus, Nina’s my friend! Like you, like James! I would intervene for you, even if it did nothing.”
“It would be stupid,” he replied, there were tears in his eyes, you could tell his mental struggle ran as deep as yours.
“If it were me, would you just wait and let me diе?”
Regulus closed his mouth, looking down while not being able to give you an answer. You weren’t sure you wanted to hear it either way.
“Let me through, please.”
“I wouldn’t let you diе,” he said, panic filling his voice, he felt like he had to reassure you, he wasn’t the evil one here, he just wanted to protect you. “But I’ve known you for years, you’re my brother’s girlfriend, it’s different,” his voice was filled with panic.
“It’s not different for me,” you said as you shook your head, a sombre tone adorning your words.
“I can’t let you go in,” he replied, his voice breaking towards the end. “I’m sorry.”
You pulled him into a hug, you could sense him relax into your hug the second you did. She understands, he thought.
“I’m sorry too,” you whispered with a sad smile, he didn’t have enough time to react, “Petrificus totalus.”
You caught him as he fell, his entire body leaning onto yours as you tried to hold him from hitting the ground. Regulus was a lot heavier than he looked but you managed to open the door again and drag him back inside. You smiled awkwardly at the person who spotted the two of you and lifted the bottle as an excuse. If they thought Reggie was passed out drunk, they wouldn’t think you’d charmed him to get in. The person nodded as if completely understanding and you dragged Reggie to a chair.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, accommodating him to look asleep.
And then you walked as fast as you could towards her screams.
It took all your strength not to break down at the sight, there were people –not people, their bodies– on the floor. They weren’t covered with bIood or anything like that, it wasn’t gory, it was just… harrowing. At least 7 of them, all of them on the floor, horrified expressions on their faces. They probably had no idea why they were there and had been hexed and tоrtured till the light escaped his eyes.
The scene enraptured you so much the screams in the background almost faded out, especially when you saw someone you instantly recognized. The lady at Kings Cross, the one that had hugged Nina, she was there too, you sobbed. You had allowed that to happen, you had allowed them to kilI Nina’s mum because you were too scared to intervene.
“Crucio!” you heard the woman scream again.
You turned your face away from them and towards the turmoil, there were many people crowding around her and Nina, so many that you could barely see the top of her blonde hair, and the only reason you knew Nina was still there was because of her screams. You spotted Tom, Arkalis and the man you now knew as Rodolphus Lestrange all sitting and chatting at a faraway table as if none of it was happening. Tom would often turn to see what was going on, smile and then go back to the conversation with a pleased expression.
You shuddered and tried to find a way through the people. You had to push a few wizards around and got an angry elbow shoved in the rib at some point but you pressed on. Eventually, you reached the edge of the circle, and you had to hold back the tears threatening to spill out as your young friend squirmed, her long hair sprawled all over the floor, and tears in her eyes. She had her mouth determinedly closed and her brows furrowed, she was trying to resist screaming again, all to avoid giving the woman the satisfaction.
“I’ll find a way to help you,” you mumbled as you looked around for possible solutions. If you had had more time perhaps you could have used a mist bomb to create a commotion, if you had more time to think of a solution, perhaps you would have burned the curtains down with incendio or caused some other kind of distraction to drive people away from Nina and sneak her out. But you had no time, and your mind was filled with the stress of seeing poor Nina on the floor, with that heart-wrenching expression on her face, and the soft whimpers that she couldn’t help but let out as she continued holding her cries and the woman with curly hair twisted her wand to inflict more pain.
If you had acted earlier, if you hadn’t let fear and cowardice drive you away from the incident, perhaps things wouldn’t have ended up the way they had, but you had been selfish, and you were now facing the consequences of your own decisions, them being mainly the mental strain and the stupidity of the action you were about to commit.
“CRUCIO!” the woman shrieked again. “Come on luv, don’t be shy, we want to hear your cries.”
She twisted her wand and Nina let out an agonising cry. This can’t continue, she’s not gonna last.
“Come on little mudblood, cry louder!” the woman said, enjoying herself so much you felt like you wanted to puke. “Entertain us!”
You stepped forward, “Stop!” You shouted.
The woman turned to you and, surprised you had spoken and twisted her wand again, Nina cried, but the moment she spotted you, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
You raised your wand at her, “I said STOP!”
“Silas’ daughter?” she asked, clearly diverted. “Thought you were snogging my little cousin Regulus somewhere in a corner.”
You held her gaze, “Last warning,” you added.
She laughed haughtily in return, “You think you could do anything to me? What are you? A 4th year?”
You were so focused on the woman and Nina, that you weren’t paying attention to the things surrounding you, at least you had gotten her attention enough to have her stop torturing Nina, who was now struggling to catch her breath.
In the far corner, Orion and Tom had turned to look at the scene with a perturbing interest, as if they wanted to see the bIoodshed that your stupid disobedience would cause. Evan had gripped onto Barty’s forearm and pulled him away from the circle and both of your parents were rushing towards you as fast as you could, but the crowd, which seemed just as interested in the situation, was making it harder for them to reach you.
“None of your fucking business,” you replied. She turned her wand back to Nina and you stepped in her way in two long strides, she laughed again.
“You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you? There’s no way a Slytherin would be so recklessly stupid.”
“Let her go,” you said sternly. “She’s a witch, just like you.”
The woman laughed again. “She’s as much of a witch as the rest of them,” she said with a smile and pointed at the pile of bodies behind her, “Muggle-borns are abominations that shouldn’t exist. So weak they need real wizards to defend them, don’t they, Luv?” She said the last bit looking at Nina, she was still on the ground, eyes shiny with unshed tears but she held her head high.
“I’m only making things even,” you replied, “do you really feel superior when you need thirty-plus wizards for torturing a 14-year-old?”
The woman scoffed, “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”
“No, but I bet I can guess,” you replied. “Dark curly hair, pretty but dеadly, a little crazy –I assume due to inbreeding– and you were sitting next to Rodolphus, which makes you one of Cygnus’ daughters. I met Narcissa today, and you’re definitely not Andromeda, which leaves out… Saiph? No wait, wrong star, it’s Bella, isn’t it?”
She gave you a deranged smile, “Bellatrix.”
“Yeah, whatever,” you responded. “Now let’s leave this nonsense behind, and–”
“Crucio,” she said pointing her wand behind you, Nina cried again.
“Stop!” you shrieked. “Confringo!”
Bella barely managed to stop your spell and turned to you with rage, “Can someone take care of her?” she asked to no one in particular. Suddenly there were several wands pointing your way, but no one cast a spell. No one was brave enough to attack Silas’ daughter directly.
Bella smiled and pointed her wand towards you, “Expelliarmus,” she said with a smile, your wand left your hand faster than you could react.
She gave you a wicked grin as she pointed her wand at Nina again. She looked like she couldn’t take another moment of it, and you were running out of ideas. “Stop! I have a better prey for you.”
Your father said your name sternly as if he could read your thoughts.
You ignored it completely, “Why bother with a muggle-born when you could be torturing someone who’s mixed-race.”
Your father screamed your name again, but Bella seemed interested enough to lower her wand and look at you, she wanted to know whose life you’d propose instead of Nina’s.
“A mixed-race you said? Whoever could that be?”
“Me!” you said and took a short breath, “I’m part-fairy.” Several gasps echoed in the room followed by whispers of the crowd.
“She’s lying!” your father spat.
“I am not!” You added quickly.
“She’s trying to buy time.”
“I can prove it!” you said desperately. “Use diffindo,” you told one of the people next to you.
“Do not dare to touch my daughter!” your father roared.
You looked around, trying to find Barty or Evan, since you knew neither of them would think twice before hurting you, but they were nowhere to be seen. Worst time to be fucking absent, you thought. No one dared to do it.
“Fine then, bunch of cowards,” you said looking around before bringing your arm to your mouth. You had never done this, but you had practised half transfigurations, you focused all your energy on your mouth and managed to turn your canines into Vixen’s, and then you bit onto your skin and dragged your arm, slicing through it, you didn’t even wince.
“That proves nothing,” Your father said. He was still trying to reach where you were.
“No, it doesn’t,” you responded. You could feel the metallic taste of your bIood in your mouth, you wondered if you looked as deranged as Bella did now. “But this will,” you said and focused your gaze on the cut you’d made, “Revelio.”
A single drop of bIood fell from your arm, everyone witnessed it change colour and clash onto the ground in a shiny, silver drop. There was another collective gasp. Bellatrix cackled and your father looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a mix of desperation, rage and disappointment.
“Well, well, well,” a voice boomed from the back of the room, “what an interesting little plot twist.” The crowd parted to allow the dark lord to walk towards the centre of the room, he seemed pleasantly entertained. “Silas,” he said as he turned to your dad calmly. “Anything you care to explain?”
You turned to your father, being thankful that everyone’s attention had turned the other way, and looking for someone distracted enough for you to do your next move.
Your father was about to say something but was quickly interrupted by your mother, “He didn’t know! I lied to him.”
Your head snapped back towards them, Why is she–?
“Is that true? Silas?”
Your father stood straighter, looking indifferent. “I had no idea,” he lied blatantly, “I wouldn’t be married if I did.”
“That’s a bunch of bullshit–”
“Silence child,” you were interrupted by the dark lord who was staring at your dad with interest, he hadn’t said the words to the spell, but your tongue was tied, and you couldn’t emit a word anymore either, “the adults are talking.”
You moved towards them when you realised you wouldn’t be able to speak. “Incarcerus,” Tom’s voice boomed and a set of ropes appeared from thin air, binding you to the spot you were currently on. His spell was much stronger than Evan’s had been, it was as if the more you moved the more the ropes tightened around your arms, digging into your skin sharply. Tom turned to your mother. “Elaborate.”
“I met him, I knew he wouldn’t like me if he knew of my heritage so I lied and hid it from him.”
“Well, I find this is the perfect little set-up for you to prove your loyalty,” Tom said with a simple smile. “Torture her.”
What? You thought, head snapping towards your mother sharply, forgetting about the ropes entirely.
Your mother and father exchanged a look, your mom nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then your father raised his wand against her, “Crucio.”
There was a wicked laugh from Bellatrix as your mother sank to the ground and started screaming. You stared at the scene as if petrified. If there was something you had never doubted in the past, it was the love your parents had for each other. How could he– how was it even…
You turned back to the ropes and started to desperately fight against them. When you realised it wasn’t working you went for plan B, you turned into Vixen and jumped as fast as possible, snatching a random wizard’s wand from their hands as you turned back.
Of all the terrible ideas you’d had today, this might have been the worst. You barely had enough control over the spell with your own wand, but you had to do something. You took a deep breath and pointed your wand at Bellatrix, “Pestis Incendium.”
A giant fire exploded out of the tip of the wand you had stolen, prompting the people around you to step back several metres as the fire turned into a massive Chimera. Fiendfyre was a dark and dangerous spell, and you had only practised it in a controlled environment with Nightshade watching your back. But the Chimera you had formed now was bigger and angrier than anything you’d ever created, she was dеadly. The massive winged lion-goat was burning everything in its way as people ran to the sides and attempted to apparate the hell away from the room.
But Evan’s house was charmed against apparitions, a few of them were caught in the fire as they attempted to run, others tried to fight against it, with water spells, but they seemed to do nothing against the angry beast you’d created. The heat quickly filled the room, smoke from burning things wafting through the air and making it harder to see. You searched for your mother, but you couldn’t spot her at all, so you turned back to Nina who was looking at you with an awed struck expression. You picked up a wand from the floor and handed it over to her before helping her up and casting a disillusionment charm around the two of you.
“We need to get out,” you whispered, as you grabbed onto her hand and pulled her along with you. You sped through the running crowds as the curtains and furniture started to catch on fire and remembered you had left Regulus petrified.
You ran towards him, pulling Nina alongside you and finding him still unconscious in the place you’d left him. “Finite Incantatem!” you said and Regulus opened his eyes hastily. He looked around confused and opened his eyes wide when he spotted the giant Chimera behind you, being even more confused when it completely ignored him and turned to the other side. You grabbed onto his arm, leaving traces of bIood over his white shirt, “Get out!”
“What?” he asked, confused.
“I won’t be able to control it for much longer, get out!” you repeated and pushed him towards the window before you pulled Nina to the side again.
She used her wand and started hexing people as you sped through the crowd and toward the window behind the snack area. If you could reach the hedge maze, you’d have enough time to think of a better way to get the hell away from there.
Finally, you spotted your mum again, she was right in front of the Chimera, using relashio in an attempt to slow her down. You raised your want towards your fiendfyre to drag it away from her but there was a spell cast in your direction.
“Stupefy!” Bellatrix said as you fell to the ground, you lost control over the Chimera completely and the beast used one of its paws to crush your mother. You could hear your father’s scream ringing in your ears alongside yours, followed by a sob as tears welled up in your eyes. Bellatrix smiled, “Well, well, well, would you look at that, one little fae gone, and one to go,” she said as she pointed her wand towards you.
You were on the floor, still trying to get a grasp of the situation and attempting to gain control over the Chimera again but it was pointless, she was doing whatever she wanted. Bellatrix smiled and raised her wand towards you, “Avada–”
“Crucio,” Nina shrieked next to you, and Bellatrix instantly fell to the ground, with a cry. Nina’s curse was so strong that the woman continued to scream madly as she pulled onto her hair. “CRUCIO!” Nina repeated. You looked at her in amazement and she gave you a half smile, fear hidden behind her eyes. “She’s not going to touch you ever again,” she reassured and extended her hand your way, you took it and she helped you up. “Ferrum Incarcerus,” she said and suddenly a set of chains bound Bellatrix Lestrange, “Flagrante,” she said next and the woman started to cry in pain as the chains started to heat up and burn. “Call me a Mudblood again, you bitch!” Nina spat, and you recast the disillusionment charm around the both of you.
Clutching to each other you walked all the way to the snack table “Bombarda!” you shouted, the window blew into pieces, and your Chimera went wild, growing wider and wider. You looked back once more, Bellatrix was still crying over the chains. There was a tall man, Cygnus, you assumed, trying to help her out of them, but Nina’s spell was strong and whatever he was doing wasn’t working properly.
You spotted your father clutching the burned remnants of your mom and you stared at the scene almost petrified. You had done that, you had murdered her.
Nina looked at you with tears in her eyes and decided to avoid staring at the pile where she knew her mother’s body would be, focusing on you, and on getting the hell away from that damned hellhole you’d ended up in.
“Come on,” she pulled onto your arm. “We have to go, come on!”
“That–” you said, still looking, the Chimera was bigger now, angrier. “They’re gone.”
“I know,” she said somberly, but then the urgency came back to her, “Come on, they’d want us to get out!” she added as she pulled onto your arm again, this time much stronger, you didn’t move at all. “Hey, look at me!” she added and grabbed your head in between her hands to force you to look at her, Nina might have been younger, but she seemed so much wiser than you at that moment. “This is awful. Things are awful, and it’s unfair. But two things are true: It was not your fault, and we need to get out.”
You tilted your head to the side, she didn’t know, she didn’t know you had ignored her mother’s cries. Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, what a terrible person you were. “Okay,” you managed to say and allowed Nina to pull you alongside her and both of you managed to exit through the window.
The cold was the first thing you noticed, white snow melting into puddles close to the house due to the fire. Messy mud on the floor making the pristine white layer of snow look brown and messy.
There were already Wizards outside, Regulus stood next to his mother and Narcissa, who kept looking inside as if waiting for someone to come out as well. Reggie too was looking around nervously, the last time he saw you, you were still inside and things were chaos.
You took a small stone and threw it towards him, when he turned around you said “Vermillious,” and from the tip of the wand you had stolen, faint red sparks appeared. People weren’t looking your way, and they had been so faint that they were nothing in comparison to the amount of light that came from your blazing Fiendfyre, but you saw Regulus smile and nod your way. You turned to Nina, somehow much more composed than seconds ago. “You like puzzles, don’t you?” you asked her as you nodded towards the hedge maze.
She smiled and gave you a nod, “Let’s get out of here,” she added, and the two of you walked inside. You ran through the maze, staying as close to each other as possible, and jumping from dеad end to dеad end. It truly was a headache, but Nina was as determined to get out as you were, so you followed her lead and continued walking behind her.
“We can’t be too far from the way out, the magic stopping us from apparating is losing power the deeper we go, can you feel it?”
“Yes,” you replied with a smile, and end to the nightmare, finally.
“You can apparate already, right?”
“Kind of,” you replied. “I mean, yes,” you reassured, you’d figure out a way, you’d both get out, you had to.
“Finite incantatem,” someone said when you rounded a corner, and both you and Nina raised your wands against him.
“Would you look at that, charming little butterfly and her mudblood friend,” The man said with a wicked smile, his silver hair flowing behind him. “You really thought you’d get away after causing so much havoc? My fiancé’s father is dеad because of your little ruse.”
“Obscuro,” you spat, ignoring his remark and going straight for defence.
“Protego,” he returned. “Stupefy!”
You blocked his spell with practised ease. “Nina behind me!” you said with determination, “Depulso!”
He blocked as well, “Confringo!”
You ducked and pulled Nina alongside you to the ground. His spell went straight to one of the hedges and things started to heat up, quite literally. The snow surrounding the area behind you melted and mixed with the dirt beneath, making mud similar to the one just outside the house.
Lucius taunted and attacked with increasing ferocity, while you fought desperately to defend both yourself and Nina. Spells flew back and forth, lighting up the night with bursts of magic. With each passing moment, the intensity of the duel escalated, fueled by adrenaline and desperation.
There was constant shouting and blocking. The more time passed and the more time you stood your ground against the man, the angrier he seemed to become. And you were tired, the amount of magic you had used up to conjure the Fiendfyre and the fact that she was still distracting and burning things back at the house, even if out of your control, was draining your energy –and magic– at worrying speeds.
Combining that with the charred image of your mother that you desperately tried to bury in the back of your mind, you felt closer and closer to losing your grip and concentration, but you refused to give in, if there was something that you were, even in cases of life and dеath, was stubborn.
“Getting tired, butterfly?” he asked with a cocky smile when he noticed you had almost tripped on a spell.
“Opugno!” you responded, ignoring his taunting. Suddenly the branches of the hedges seemed to come alive as they went straight to get him.
“Deprimo!” he shouted before the spell hit him, and the floor started to shake, both you and Nina managed to step out of the way, on time, but the hole in the ground had now trapped the two of you in a dеad end.
“Reparo!” you shouted, your previous spell had been strong enough to distract him while you attempted to build the ground back up so you could continue.
“Impedimenta!” he shouted, and you were locked in place. When did he even get out of the hedges?
You tried to focus on shaking the charm off while he pointed his wand at you again. You were tired, but you had fought against Nightshade’s impedimenta several times before, and Lucius’ curse was much weaker. Despite that, the amount of magic you had already used had debilitated you and it seemed to require even more concentration than it had done in the past. That didn’t make it impossible.
You were just getting a grip on the knot of magic that seemed to lock you in place when Lucius smiled, still bound by the hedges but gloating at the way you struggled.
“Stupefy Maxima!” he shouted. You braced yourself to receive the spell, but instead, you felt a push from the side and ended up cornered against one of the hedges as Nina fell to the ground right in front of you.
“Nina!” you shouted and dropped to the ground next to her in an instant, then you saw another spell leave his wand. You stared at the red bolt coming straight at you with watery eyes, thinking of all the things you wouldn’t be able to do, of all the things Nina wouldn’t be able to do because you had failed to save her. Anger and sorrow filled your thoughts as you stared at dеath straight in the eyes.
But she didn’t stare back.
Instead, there was a bright, blinding light that lasted no more than half a second, and Lucius was thrown back against one of the hedges. It was as if his wand had backfired the spell on him. You stared at the scene confused, your bafflement increasing only when you spotted Barty Crouch shooting a stunning spell in Lucius’ direction.
You turned back to Nina as the two of them fought the other, “Nina,” you said softly as you placed your hands around her face, her cheeks were cold but there was something gooey and warm behind her hair. As you pulled your hand back to look at it better you realised what it was. You shook your head and as you stared. “No, no, no, no...” you repeated over and over again as you leaned down only to realise she had fallen onto a sharp rock. “No, no… Nina, look at me,” you said, voice wavering.
Her weary gaze turned to you, her eyelids were heavy and tired, but she smiled faintly when she saw you. “You’re okay,” she sighed.
“No, no, no,” you repeated, tears already blurring your sight as you stared at her.
“Go!” she said softly, reassuringly.
“No!” you said again, voice cracking near the end.
She nodded soothingly, “It’s okay, you have to go.”
“Nina, please!” you begged. “We can do something, we can find a way to–”
“Go,” she interrupted you calmly, more secure now. “You’re all right,” she said and smiled, “I can go happy knowing you’ll be alright.”
“You can’t! I won’t leave, not without you,” you replied stubbornly, shaking your head as you said it.
“You can’t stop her now, the bargain’s made, the deal’s done,” she said simply.
“No, please,” you said as you leaned onto her chest and allowed the tears to stream down your face, the girl somehow managed to place her hand over your hair and played with some of the strands with the little strength she had left.
“You know… I’ve been bles-sed,” she said, her breath caught in her throat. “Blessed that you were the last thing I got to see,” she added with a smile, “thank you for saving me.”
You felt her hand go limp over your head and you heard the last beat of her heart boom against your ear. “No!” you cried and stood back up to look at her. She had a pleased and peaceful expression on her face, contrasting completely with her stained blonde hair, and the rapidly changing colour of snow, no longer white, but scarlet. “Rennervate,” you said pointing the wand at her. Nothing. “Rennervate,” you repeated, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Rennervate, Rennervate, Rennervate.”
“Stop it!” you heard Barty say from behind you.
“Rennervate!” you said again, completely disregarding the boy.
“Hey! You need to get out of here, people are coming.”
“I don’t care!” You snapped. And turned back “RENNERVATE!”
“You’re going to diе too! Her sacrifice would be for nothing!”
“Go to hell!” You responded. You felt him trying to pull you away from her. “Get your filthy hands off me!”
“Re- rennervate,” you repeated, it was more a whisper than anything else, a desperate cry, a futile attempt to cling onto something that wasn’t there anymore, that wouldn’t be there no matter what you did. Perhaps you had used up your magic, it was a stunning spell, not a kiIling curse.
But it had also been the fall, and the rock.
“Listen to me!” Barty said as he hauled you up by pushing you against one of the hedges. “She’s gone, and if you don’t move, you’ll be the same! Your stupid spell will do nothing to bring her back!”
“She’s my friend!” you shouted angrily as you tried to pry his hands away from your arms. But Barty was still stronger than you. “She’s my friend, and she’s struggling because of me. I won’t give up on her!”
“THERE IS NOTHING TO GIVE UP ON! SHE’S FUCKING DЕAD!”
Rage filled your gaze as you managed to focus on him again, you tried to push him off of you again, this time with much more determination. When he realised, he smiled and loosened his grip.
“What?” you asked in disbelief.
“Wrath is more useful than desperation,” he retorted. “You need to get out of here.”
You gave one last look at Nina, her pleased expression made her look as if she was sleeping, soft and simple and happy. Could you trick your brain into thinking she was just sleeping if you tried hard enough?
You turned back to Barty wearily, “Why– why are you helping me?” you asked with a wavering voice, emotions raw and unfiltered at this point.
“Evan told me what you did for him. He’s taking care of Lucius and I’m much better at apparating than him.”
You swallowed, distrusting, and turned to the side, Evan was indeed in the distance, performing some kind of spell on the man that had murdered Nina. Your mind was spinning with conflicting emotions. You wanted to lash out, to scream and rage against the unfairness of it all. But there was no use, Nina was dеad and no matter how much you cried about it, you wouldn’t bring her back.
“Look! If it makes you feel better you can hit me–” His words were cut short as your fist connected to his face. “Fuck! I’m trying to help you!” he winced as he reached for his nose. Your fist stung, but clearly, his face did just as much.
“You’ve been an asshole to me for months.”
“And I’m trying to do a good deed, bIoody hell!” he replied with a frown, you glared in return. “Come on, we need to get out.”
“I don’t want to!” You said in a stubborn whisper, you wanted to lean against her and cry until the snow covered both of your bodies and you could forget about it all.
“But she wanted you to,” he replied, there was bIood streaming down his nose, but there was an honesty in his gaze that you didn’t think Barty was capable of. “Allow me to help make her last wish true.”
You swallowed, giving the boy one more weary look, “Can you try?”
“Try?” he asked, confused. He was trying.
“To save her.”
“It’s pointless, if you couldn’t do it–”
“My magic’s weak,” you admitted, despite yourself, it didn’t matter anymore, you didn’t care if Barty or Evan used it against you as long as Nina came back.
The boy sighed, clearly thinking it was pointless, but leaned down next to Nina either way “Rennervate!” he said steadily.
Seconds passed by, agonisingly slow but nothing happened.
You let out a defeated breath, your mind was suddenly empty. You realised if you didn’t want to end up like her, you’d have to pull yourself together somehow. Barty tried again, even if you didn’t ask him, but the result was the same. You placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Fine, let’s get out,” you said with a nod. Barty stood up and you tighten your grip around the wand you were holding, taking in a deep breath before pointing it at Nina. “Papilioscorpus,” you said, focusing all of your attention on that one spell.
Suddenly Nina’s body transformed into a heap of small blue butterflies. You held back the sob that threatened to escape by sucking in a breath as the small creatures broke off Nina’s body, one by one until there was no more of her, but hundreds of them.
How unfair it was, that Nina had to diе because she wasn’t a pureblood, you thought, even if Nina would disagree. She didn’t diе because she wasn’t a pureblood wizard, she didn’t diе because they tortured her to dеath, she didn’t diе weak and defenceless and in despair, you had spared her from that fate. No, Nina diеd to save you, and she was pleased with the choice she’d made, simply because she wouldn’t want to live in a world where you didn’t exist.
They flew up, circling you for a second before continuing their path, way above the hedges, and leaving behind the bIoodstained snow in search of somewhere warm.
Barty turned to you with a soft expression and then raised his wand to the butterflies, “Irascor,” he said simply. A protective charm, so they would be safe, even if Nina hadn’t been.
“Thank you,” you managed to mumble, as you saw them leave, not allowing yourself to wallow in the hopelessness you felt at such a stunningly beautiful sight. The snow-covered landscape, the stars shining above in the sky, the small snowflakes falling softly on the ground, all contrasted deeply with how you felt, how broken and in pain you were. You blinked back the tears and turned back to him.
He nodded and cocked his head to the side, indicating you to follow him. It was slow at first, steps into a different direction, away from the bIood, now being covered by a fresh layer of snow, away from Evan and unconscious Lucius.
Eventually, Barty started to pick up speed and you matched his pace, a welcome heat to the cold that had now chilled your bones. The dress you had, while long-sleeved, wasn’t exactly snow-friendly. Your heels long forgotten, left as you took faster and faster steps. The white cool of snow against your heels, helping you focus on anything other than all the previous events.
Barty seemed to know exactly where he was going, and you followed him blindly. The traces of your steps had been long erased by the constant falling snow. If he was leading you to safety or back to the house, what difference did it make at this point?
But then you felt it: the barriers against apparating were gone. “Where should I take you?” He asked softly, softer than you’d expect him to, the two of you breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath.
You blinked, looking around like a lost puppy. You had no mother, your father was a deatheater or something, and your home was probably not yours anymore –not that it had felt like one in the last few years. “I have nowhere to go,” you said the words as you realised their weight.
Barty sighed, he knew what it was like to not belong. To feel lonely and forgotten and like he had to be outstanding to be cared for, to be worthy. He knew what it was to have no place to call home, but he had Evan now. He knew what that felt like, and for the first time since he’d met you, he empathised with you. “Sirius?” he offered, he might not like him, but he knew Sirius was as special to you as Evan was to him.
“He’s with the Potters, you cannot apparate there, you don’t know where it is… It would be too dangerous, for the both of us,” you said steadily, emotionlessly, trying to cling to your analytical side. If you blocked the emotions threatening to boil out of you, if you hid them so deep within your mind that they wouldn’t bother you then perhaps you’d be able to keep moving.
“Secret hideout?”
“I–” then you remembered. “School! Take me to Hogwarts!”
“You can’t apparate there…” he said with a frown. Hogwarts was a brilliant idea though, it would certainly be safer.
“No, but, you can apparate on the Shrieking Shack! You’ve done it before.”
“You want me to take you back, there?” he asked, disbelief laced in his tone.
“Yeah!” you said with a confident nod.
“Are you… sure?” he asked again, perhaps the emotional toll of the night was getting to you.
“Yes! I can get to the castle from there,” you repeated.
He looked at you as if analysing the situation, you seemed pretty sure of yourself, so he nodded, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you closer, Barty was as tall as you, still growing, so you assumed he’d be taller. You ended up hugging each other in the most awkward way possible (a weird sort of hug where neither of you seemed to want to touch each other) before he apparated just outside the shack.
You felt a sense of relief when you spotted the snow-coated building. You had made it this far, against all odds. But was it worth it? With how much it had cost?
Barty gave you one last look, “Can I have the wand?” he asked in a relatively polite tone as he pointed to the wand in your hand. He was being considerate, even for his standards.
“Pardon?” You asked as your grip on the wand tightened.
“I’m going to say I tried to stop you but you apparated away, you’re talented for your age so it’s believable enough. Evan is obliviating Lucius. We’ll try to get your actual wand back–”
“Nina’s,” you said as you handed him the one in your hand. He frowned. “Get Nina’s wand, it’s more important.”
“Why?”
“I can buy another wand, but she… she can’t,” you said, trying not to let your features betray the emotions you felt.
“But it’ll be useless to–” You gave him a mix between a pleading look and a glare, and he stopped his words, “we’ll try,” he conceded.
You smiled weakly, “Thanks.” He was about to leave. “Wait!” you stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, he turned to you, movements soft and calm, he knew you were on edge. “Priori incantatem, they will know you tried to bring Nina back if they check.”
“Give me the wand,” you said and he did as told. “Now take it.”
“Expelliarmus,” he said and the wand you had stolen flew from your hand to his, he caught it in the air with ease. It was surprising how fast he’d caught on to what you meant, but you already knew Barty was brilliant, even if he used said brilliance for evil deeds more often than not.
“And now stun me.”
“What? Are you daft? I’m trying to save you,” he protested with a frown.
“And this is my way of thanking you, you put up a fight against me. Stun me softly if you will–”
“Stupefy!”
Your body reeled back against the gate and ended up on the floor. It had been soft, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Either way, the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the grief that threatened to consume you whole.
“Payback for punching me in the face,” Barty said with a smile as he offered his hand. He was joking.
You scoffed and pushed his hand away, deciding that sitting on the snow was comfortable enough. “Get the hell out before I punch you again.”
His smile only grew wider and he had the nerve to send you a wink before he apparated again. You stared at the empty space he’d left for a while, there was snow all around. Falling and falling in a stunningly, slumbery sort of way. So peaceful and quiet in comparison to how loud and hectic things had been just seconds ago. Even your heartbeat, which had been blasting against your ears, was slowing down.
You stared at the cold white snow, and let your head fall back onto the gate as one of your hands fell on it, pulling some of it up and staring at the way it fell from your fingers lazily. You remembered playing in the snow with the boys, how happy you had been that day, you wondered if you could ever be that happy again.
Ah… how tired did you feel, things were calm now, you weren’t in danger anymore, you sank deeper into the ground, adrenaline dissipating with ease and exhaustion washing over you in waves. You closed and opened your eyes wearily.
The shack, why did you have to get to the shack? You wondered, everything was so peaceful where you were, you liked it, the cold of the snow soothingly numbing the pain, all the pain, not just the physical one. You let a faint smile coat your lips, who’s that in the distance? You wondered, it looked like someone you knew, but paler. Could it be… Nina?
And then you closed your eyes.
And so we grace another table
And raise our glasses one more time
There's a face at the window
And I ain't never, never sayin' goodbye…
Series Masterlist | Next Chapter
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They're only flyin' too close to the sun
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Something In The Way You Move | The Redemption
Author’s note: I struggled writing this next instalment, and there was a lot of chopping and changing, so apologies for the late update. There’s one final part after this, and the plan is to have it out by mid-May. In terms of their apartment, this is how I pictured it but feel free to switch it up. This is only for fictional purposes only, but please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎
Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, bad language, couple reconciling, side chick confrontation, some relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)
famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham
Word count: 8k words
///
‘So, Bestie,’ Winnie starts, ‘what’s the plan? And how are we going to pull this off?’
That’s a good question: how will you break the big news to Jude? It’s been five torturous days since the positive pregnancy test and you’re yet to tell him about it. The timing just hasn’t been right, and the next bit’ll sound silly, but you’ve kept this from him because you don’t want to take the attention from him.
His first season at Real Madrid has exceeded all your wildest expectations, and you just wanted him to celebrate it all without detracting from it with the baby news.
Girlfriend of the Year, right?
‘To be honest, Wins, I haven’t thought about it.’
You’re standing in the kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and Winnie’s in the living room, her limbs stretched out on the sectional as she mindlessly browses through one of the coffee table books.
Your best friend’s in town for work, and earlier today, she actually filmed a couple of scenes with you for the show, and that’s when you told her about the pregnancy.
Off camera, of course. However, looking back at the moment, you regret not filming it.
Between filming your scenes, you quietly pulled Winnie to the side and showed her the sonogram you now carry around in your bag, and her reaction was exactly what you expected it to be and more. There was squealing, excited jumping, and there were lots and lots of tears shed between the two of you.
‘Okay, well, when do you plan to tell him?’
Tonight. You think enough time has passed and yesterday, you went to your first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, but despite your excitement, you kept the news from Jude because you wanted the announcement to be well thought out—special.
Also, there has been so much distance between you, you’re hoping that the baby news could be the catalyst to bring you two together because you kinda miss being close to him.
‘I’ll be honest with you, Y/N/N, that doesn’t give us much time to plan it.’
Winnie makes a good point, but you’re not looking for perfection, all that matters is that he knows.
‘Well,’ the kettle boils and you walk over to where it sits on the counter to grab it, ‘it depends on what we decide on.’
You start pouring the boiling liquid into the cups.
‘My only request is that we incorporate the sonogram.’
‘Wouldn’t it be cute if we could find a pair of infant football boots?’
It’s kinda cheesy—very cheesy, actually—but you like the idea. A lot.
‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’re getting somewhere with this.’
It’s almost hard to believe that you’re standing here, plotting out a way to tell Jude that you’re expecting.
If someone had come up to you the night you first met him and told you that in two years, you’d be standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment in Madrid, planning a pregnancy reveal, you would’ve called them a liar.
Excuse your French, but. . . ‘Holy fuck, Wins, I’m pregnant.’
It’s like it’s hitting you for the first time.
Winnie laughs, amused by your sudden realisation. ‘I can’t explain it, right? But it feels like a teen pregnancy.’
There’s no need for her to explain it further ‘cause you know exactly what she means. When you first saw the positive pregnancy test—you know, after your initial shock—you first panicked about how your family would react to the news.
You had to take a moment to stop and remind yourself that even though you’re still so young, you’re more than capable of raising this child.
With Jude’s assistance, of course.
‘Do you want to record it?’
‘Record what?’
You take the steaming mugs from the island and make your way over to the living room, where you place them onto the coffee table.
‘The moment you tell him. Not for Netflix,’ she clarifies, ‘but you know, home videos or whatever.’
Yeah, you’re definitely keeping this one in the family. Maybe if the show gets renewed for a second season. . . but you’re jumping the gun.
‘I want to, but’ you look around the ostentatiously decorated main living space ‘where can we put the camera? I don’t want him to see it.’
‘We’ll figure it out.’
Winnie’s composure is just what you need right now. You can always count on her to be calm in stressful situations.
‘Is your camera charged?’
You’ll have to check. It’s been some time since you last used it. Part of your job is that you’re a part time YouTuber, it’s something you dabble in because you like filming and editing. . . all that jazz, but lately, your channel has taken the backseat.
Why vlog this period of your life when they can catch it on Netflix when the show comes out?
‘Come,’ Winnie shifts to make space for you on the couch.
You take your seat next to her and by the time you settle, she’s already got her phone out, with her Pinterest open.
‘What’s that for?’
‘Well, something’s got to inspire us.’
Duh. It must be the pregnancy fog.
‘Don’t worry,’ she assures. ‘We’ve got this.’
And got this you do. A half hour and two cold teas later, there’s a plan, but this plan requires you to leave the house.
Booooo!
You’re not too keen on the impromptu outing, but there are baby football boots to be bought, and at least you’ll have Winnie there with you.
‘Well, that was easy.’
You beg to differ, but whatever.
Winnie locks her phone and sets it on the couch, ‘When’s The Boy coming home?’
You’re not sure when it started, but Winnie now refers to Jude as “The Boy” which you find to be endearing.
Probably late. He’s out with Toby and Noah, and he mentioned something about his other teammates joining them, but you weren’t really paying attention.
‘I’m not sure.’
And it’s not something you wish to discuss further because the thought fills you with dread. It’s been days since your discovery but given the circumstances, there has been no time to sit down and talk about Coralie.
The result of that is that whenever he goes out—and he’s been going out plenty to celebrate his victorious season—you can’t help but feel anxious that he might cheat on you again.
Surely this is no way to live.
‘But it doesn’t matter, does it?’ you rise off of the couch and start for the bedroom.
Naturally, Winnie’s trailing after you and you just know that this conversation is far from over. She’s persistent.
‘It doesn’t, but I think you should ask him.’
She makes it sound so simple. And you guess it is simple, he is your boyfriend after all, it’s your privilege to call or text him whenever and wherever.
‘We don’t want any surprises.’
You don’t, but if he does walk into something he’s not supposed to walk into, that’s all on him.
‘I don’t think it’s necessary, really.’
Inside the walk-in closet, you start stripping out of your house sweats to change into something appropriate. Once upon a time, you could leave your house in your house clothes without the fear of being pasted on the MailOnline and labelled “dowdy” and “unkempt”.
But that was a long time ago.
‘Oooh, what’s this?’
Winnie finds herself distracted by the Chloé box that’s sitting on the closet island.
‘Oh, yeah, that’s a PR box they sent me on Monday,’ you state matter-of-factly.
She opens it and gasps when she sees what’s inside the large box.
‘What the. . .’
‘It’s crazy, right?’
She turns to you in utter disbelief. ‘They gifted these to you?’
You hum.
She grunts and confesses, ‘I’m so jealous of you right now.’
Twelve full sized perfumes, all gifted to you by the brand.
You tell her to take a bottle, and of course, she’s over the moon. And it earns you the title of World’s Best Best Friend.
‘Well, I still think you should text him,’ she states as she tests the different scents.
And here you thought she had forgotten about that.
‘Just so we have an idea.’
You don’t really want to send the text, but you don’t want to raise any alarms with your friend. Lately, things between you and Jude have been far from perfect, but you’d prefer to keep your relationship problems from the world—even if it’s Winnie and she’s your best friend.
‘Yeah, alright.’
Your phone’s in the living room, so you have to leave the closet to grab it, and when you come back, Winnie’s discovered your new Chanel handbag—a gift from Jude.
‘He bought this for you?’
‘Yeah,’ but you’re not trying to make a big deal of it.
Jude bought the bag for you about a month ago. At the time, it seemed so random—his urge to buy such an expensive gift on a whim—, but after seeing those text messages, you know it was the guilt that made him do it.
‘Lucky bitch.’
‘I’ve been telling you to bag yourself a baller,’ you tease as you take your seat on one of the ottomans.
You: Hey, when are you coming back tonight?
You read over the text to make sure you’re not coming off as desperate. . . a nag. But whatever, the text needs to be sent, and the way he interprets it is up to him.
He doesn’t immediately respond, but you don’t expect him to. He never does when he’s out.
You take a final look in the mirror. You look so good, it’s almost hard to believe that the look was put together in ten minutes. And you’d take a picture to post on your story, but there’s no time for that now.
‘You ready, Wins?’
She smiles, ‘Ready.’
‘Alright then, let’s go.’
///
When he did finally respond to your text, Jude said that he’d try to be home by midnight, which gave you more than enough time to prepare for the reveal.
For her visit, Winnie will be staying at the apartment with you, but she’s gone out because she’s not pregnant and she’s actually got a life. However, she did help you set everything up for the reveal, which you appreciated because she came with all the good ideas.
Like she suggested that you do it in your closet as opposed to the kitchen, where you had initially planned to do it, because the lighting and acoustics were better.
And now it’s a little past eleven o’clock and you’re rewatching an old episode of your favourite series. Earlier in the night—after Winnie left—you filmed a night time routine vlog for your TikTok, which you should be working on editing, but can’t be bothered about.
Waiting for Jude to come home has reduced you to a ball of anxiety, and despite your eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute, you simply can’t make yourself fall asleep. However, one thing’s certain, no pregnancy reveal will be done tonight.
Damn him, and damn your feelings for him.
You can’t believe he’s once again ditched you for his friends this week. It’s disrespectful at this point, but the worst part?
You keep allowing him to get away with it.
But what can you do, leave him? As if that’s an option for you. The love you feel for him runs so deep, you can’t bring yourself to imagine a life without him in it, especially with the baby coming. So apologies to all the feminists of the world, but your love for this man surpasses all reasoning.
Your phone dings with a notification and you quickly grab it, hoping to find a text from him—you’ll take an incoherent drunken text at this point, anything—but instead it’s Winnie asking if he’s home yet.
Fuck.
You: Not yet, but soon :)
You hope.
She’ll never confront you about it, but you think that Winnie suspects that things aren’t good between you and Jude. The lack of calls and texts throughout the day was a dead giveaway. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, and even when you’re apart, you’re constantly updating each other one way or another so the silence was deafening.
But whatever, right?
People across the world experience relationship problems every day. You’re not the first couple to experience this, and you’re certainly not the last. You just wish that your relationship problems weren’t because he stepped out on you.
‘Babe?’
And now your mind’s playing tricks on you, because you swear you can hear him–
‘Y/N?’
Oh shit, he’s home!
You quickly reach for your phone to check the time: 11:26.
Fuck!
In the last text you sent him almost an hour ago now, you gave him strict instructions to text you before he left the club.
Guess he didn’t catch that text.
‘Baby?’ he calls for you again, but his voice sounds distant, so you figure you have enough time to do what it is that you have to do.
But you’ve got to move fast, so you clamber off of the bed, and scurry to your closet. You head straight to the camera, which you’ve carefully propped on your Louis Vuitton jewellery box, and switch it on to start recording.
This probably isn’t the best of angles, but so long as it captures his reaction, hopefully with his face in the frame.
‘Baaaaybeeee?’
His voice sounds closer now.
‘In the closet, babe,’ you finally call back, then internally brace yourself for what’s to follow.
With Jude, the plan was always to get married and have children, but the when was never discussed in detail.
‘Why are you hiding in here?’
Some of that anxiety leaves your body at the sight of him. He’s beaming at you, so visibly happy to see you.
‘Hiya.’
This man has seen you in all kinds of vulnerable situations, why are you so shy all of a sudden?
As he closes the distance between you, you notice that his eyes are kinda red and glossy, the only sign of his intoxication. When he reaches you, his smile widens—if that’s even possible—and he leans forward to connect your foreheads.
‘Hi, gorgeous.’
He smells of mint with the faint scent of alcohol, and a smell you can only describe as Jude on a night out.
With your eyes shut, you deeply inhale the comforting scent, happy to have him back home.
‘Hey, why are you hiding in here?’ he asks again, his words running into each other, the second sign.
‘Uh, ‘cause.’
You weren’t anticipating that question, and you don’t know how to answer it.
‘“‘Cause?”’ he chuckles.
You hum.
‘Come here,’ he envelops you in his large and strong arms, practically suffocating you but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to release you because you’ve missed his affection and the intimacy.
You fear you’re starting to sound like a broken record.
‘How was it?’
‘How was what?’
‘The club?’
‘Fine.’
And that’s all he’s willing to offer.
‘I thought you said Winnie was staying over?’
She is, she’s just gone to a party with the new guy she’s seeing.
‘And you didn’t join her?’
‘No.’
You give him a half-baked explanation for why you didn’t, but all you’re thinking is how this isn’t going the way you hoped for it to go. This isn’t what the other significant others did in the videos you watched earlier.
But how do you save it?
‘Why are you asking about her?’
‘Just curious, I guess.’
‘Alright then,’ you fist his jacket in your hand. ‘It’s good to have you back home.’
He likes that, you know that because his heart rate picks up. Things are still a bit awkward between you, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t been talking much.
With your arms around his neck, you press onto your toes and crane your neck to peck him on the lips. ‘And actually, babe, there’s something I want to show you.’
Jude tenses up at that, but it’s so subtle, if you weren’t in his arms, you would’ve missed it.
‘You do?’
And like magic, he’s sobered up. Only a bit though.
‘Don’t worry,’ you assure him, amused. ‘It’s nothing bad.’
Your assurance does nothing to ease his wound up body.
‘Jude, relax. . . please.’
Still tense. Whatever, you won’t dwell on his anxiety.
With a final peck to his lips, you step away from him and direct his attention to the island, where the football booties you went out to buy earlier are placed next to a toddler Real Madrid jersey, a positive pregnancy test—you took another one a couple of hours ago—and the sonogram.
‘Surprise,’ you say softly.
You want to sound excited, but it just comes out dejected.
You watch as he takes it in, your heart hammering against your chest. Unfortunately for you, you only have a view of his side profile but even from this angle, you can see that his usually expressive face is perfectly still. You can’t read him, and it feels like an eternity before he turns to face you.
‘Is this for real?’
You nod, the lump that has found a home in your throat making it hard to speak. Your vision’s also blurred, courtesy of the tears that have pooled in your eyes.
‘It is?’
The first tear falls.
‘Oh, baby.’
Jude lifts you into his arms and squeezes all the air from your lungs.
Man, he’s so strong.
Then he sort of holds you like that for a long time, and the next thing you know, your neck is damp.
‘Babe, are you. . are you crying?’
He denies it, but you can feel the damp spot grow with each passing second you’re in his arms. Oh goodness, he is.
‘I think you are.’
‘Shut up,’ he mutters, his voice muffled.
You giggle when he tickles you.
His reaction’s quite the relief and it feels like a ginormous load has been lifted off your shoulders. In terms of his reaction, you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is the best reaction possible, and as he holds you, all the lingering resentment about his past transgressions are forgotten.
Eventually, he sets you down to reveal his red rimmed eyes and similarly hued nose.
‘How far along are you?’
Seven weeks and three days today, according to your doctor. When Dr Hernandez told you, you couldn’t believe you were so far along and didn’t notice.
‘That’s what, almost two months?’
In defence of you though, between your work and Jude’s chaotic football schedule, you’ve been out of touch with your body.
‘Did you know?’
‘I suspected it.’ You tell him about the morning after that night when you noticed that your period was late. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to take the test first.’
‘And why didn’t you tell me after?’
‘I wanted the doctor to confirm it.’
You’ve grown so tired of standing, so you sit on the carpeted floor of the closet, and Jude joins you, pushing the ottoman to one side so that he can lean against the island.
‘I called Dr Morena who referred me to Dr Hernandez.’
He scowls, ‘Who’s that?’
‘My obstetrician.’
The scowl deepens.
You sigh, ‘The doctor who’ll care for me during the pregnancy.’
‘Oh.’ With his legs spread and stretched out before him, he pulls you into him and sets you between them. ‘And you said that Dr Morena referred you to this. . .’
‘Obstetrician.’
‘Yeah, that.’
You hum in agreement as you rest your back against his torso.
Dr Morena is your family GP.
There’s a silent beat then he asks, ‘So he knew before me?’
‘Winnie too,’ you turn your head so that you’re partially facing him. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Winnie knew before me?’
The offence is evident in his voice.
‘I had to tell her,’ you defend, but this isn’t where you want to steer the conversation. ‘She helped me set this all up.’
He grunts.
‘Are you mad at me?’
‘Kinda.’
Well, now you feel bad.
‘I’m sorry,’ you sit up and turn to face him, maintaining eye contact as you explain, ‘Had I known it would’ve offended you, I wouldn’t have done it.’
But she was so integral in all of this, a part of you’s glad you did. . .
‘Oh, come on, Jude.’
He’s pouting, your big baby.
‘Cheer up, will you?’ you straddle him, cupping his face to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. ‘I’m really sorry.’
It’s about another minute of silence and avoided eye contact, and you’re about to give up and on the verge of tears when:
‘Babe, I’m only messing with you.’
A quiet beat, then there’s relief, followed by loud laughter.
‘That wasn’t funny,’ you grouse, slapping him lightly on his chest. ‘I almost cried, you know.’
‘Come here,’ he pulls you into him.
The traces of alcohol still linger in his speech, but he’s significantly sobered up since he got home ten minutes ago.
‘I can’t believe you’re pregnant.’
And you can’t remember the last time Jude was this excited about something outside of football. His reaction almost makes you wish you had waited to share the news with him on his birthday, but that wouldn’t have worked because he’ll be in Germany then with the national team for the Euros.
‘What are you thinking?’
‘How the pill doesn’t work a hundred percent,’ you pull away.
But then again, with all the jet setting you’ve been doing, you probably weren’t taking it at the same time every day.
With a flash of his signature smile, he concurs.
‘My knees are starting to hurt,’ you announce as you move off of his lap and back to your previous spot between his legs.
Jude places a hand over your stomach, and with your hands over his larger ones, you move them lower to the pelvic area.
‘There.’
He chuckles. ‘You know, I always dreamed of being a young dad.’
You didn’t know this about him.
‘Not at twenty-one,’ he continues, ‘but you know, in my twenties.’
It’s comforting to know that this baby fits into his life plan.
‘How about you?’
‘I don’t know,’ you admit after a moment of consideration.
You’re still wrapping your head around the turn your life’s taken. The WAG thing kinda blindsided you, the fame too. The craziest part of this all is that you’ve made a career of it, built an entire brand.
‘But I’m not mad at this plot twist.’
‘Our kid’s a plot twist?’ he chuckles.
You nod. ‘Clearly we weren’t paying attention in sex education.’
He kisses the top of your head.
‘Dr Hernandez said that the baby’s about the size of a blueberry,’ you tell him.
It’s such a random fact, but you feel compelled to share it with him.
‘That’s really tiny.’
‘Right?’
Jude keeps rubbing over the area, and you have an inkling he’ll make a habit of this.
Some minutes pass, and then you remember that the camera’s still going, so you excuse yourself from Jude.
‘Where’re you going?’
His grip is firm around your waist.
‘I’m going to get the camera.’
He looks confused, but he releases you. On bended knees, you shuffle over to the other end of the island to quickly grab it, but you don’t stop the recording. When you get back to Jude, you find him in a daze, silently staring at the sonogram in his hand.
‘She’s so tiny,’ he comments when you sit at your previous spot, facing him.
‘She?’
Talk about wanting to be a girl dad.
‘You think the baby’s a girl?’
He looks up to find a camera in his face. ‘What, you think it’s a boy?’
You shrug, you haven’t actually given it much thought. ‘Well, do you think you can handle a mini me?’
He makes a face.
‘Ah, take it back,’ you giggle.
He takes the camera and turns the lens to you. ‘Well, now I’m asking you. Y/N, do you think Baby Bellingham’s a girl or a boy?’
You pause to think about it. A mini you or a mini Jude, how difficult. ‘Well, I’m going the opposite, I think Baby Bellinghamʼs a boy.’
You snuggle into him, ear pressed against his chest, camera still in your face, but you’re both in the frame. One fact people don’t know about your boyfriend is that he’s a master vlogger, and he’s actually recorded many segments for your vlogs that will never see the light of day because when it comes to Jude, you’re a shameless gatekeeper.
‘I want to shower before bed,’ he proclaims once the recording has stopped. ‘Join me?’
You’ve already taken your shower, but you figure a second one wouldn’t hurt. Jude takes your hand and leads you out of the closet and into the bathroom, where you strip out of your clothes.
‘Is it my imagination, or are your boobs getting bigger?’
Huh?
You look down at your exposed breasts, ‘Are you joking?’
‘No, I’m not,’ with a hand on each shoulder, he turns you towards the mirror. ‘Look.’
You’re looking at them, but they still look the same to you, but he’s adamant. Then, in a move you deem perverted—in a good way, of course—, he cups them in his hands.
‘What are you doing?’ At this point, you can’t contain your laughter.
‘How are you not seeing this?’
He must’ve drank more than you realise, because what the fuck is this?
‘Are you high?’
His face twists with disapproval, ‘No, why?’
‘The boobs,’ you turn to him, ‘what’s with the sudden fascination with them?’
‘I like your boobs, you know this.’
You do. And you like his butt.
‘Come,’ you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him into the shower. ‘I think you’re tired.’
And horny.
You turn the faucet to run the water.
As you’d imagine, not much showering is done.
‘Careful not to wet your hair,’ you warn him, but it’s too late.
‘I don’t care,’ he says flippantly as he takes your face between his hands and leans over to kiss you.
This is not what you came here to do.
You’re both covered in suds.
‘Jude, I need to rinse my body.’
‘Later,’ he mutters against your lips.
‘Jude!’ you squeal.
He’s such a Silly Billy when he wants to be.
You gasp into his passionate kiss when you suddenly feel the cold shower wall against your back. In a swift and slick movement, Jude trails kisses across your left shoulder and you tilt your head to one side to give him better access to your neck.
A soft moan escapes your parted lips as he sucks on the sensitive skin.
‘Jude. . .’
You want to tell him to stop, but the hand on his naked lower back pulls him into to you.
He hums into the kiss as his hand moves up your body to cup your boob, ‘Tonight, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’
His vulnerability catches you off guard, how can you not give into him. . .
///
For breakfast this morning, you’re making honey butter toast using a recipe you found on the internet. It’s your first time making it and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but Jude saw it on Pinterest the other week and begged you to make it, so that’s what he’ll have for breakfast.
It’s a simple enough recipe, but knowing you and your iffy cooking skills, this could either be a major success or an epic fail—nothing in the middle. If it does fail though, you’ve got the regular bacon and egg fry-up on standby.
But only positive thoughts in this kitchen.
You’ve got your favourite morning playlist going softly in the background, and today’s what you consider the perfect Saturday morning. The sun is fully out, and the expansive windows of the apartment allow for the natural light to pour into the space and warms it.
You put the toast into the oven and set the timer.
At the end of the summer, your lease for this apartment will be up, but the likelihood of you extending it has significantly shrunk with the latest development in your life. The song goes, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage,” but you’ve skipped parts, so some things need to be shifted around.
That means that the house hunting that you’ve been putting off needs to start. . . now, really.
This is where Coralie comes in handy, but you’re not talking to her. She actually reached out to you Sunday morning to apologise for your awkward encounter at the restaurant that night. Her text read:
Coralie: Last night, I overstepped and I’m really sorry and embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.��
You’re yet to respond to the text, but you don’t plan to anytime soon because you don’t accept her stupid apology. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an insignificant homewrecker. She is two-faced and vindictive and incredibly cruel for subjecting you to such humiliation.
She laughed with you, acted like a friend when she was fucking your man behind your back for six months.
‘Bitch,’ you mumble as you load the dishes into the wash.
But she’s not worth the time, emotions, nor the energy. So with a deep breath, you bop thoughts of her out of your mind, and move on with your day.
Easy.
A half hour later, breakfast is ready to be served. You’ve gone all out with this meal, and it would be an absolute shame to not take a picture to post onto your IG story. Very quickly, you snap a picture to post later, and take the food to your sleeping boyfriend before the ice-cream starts to melt.
He’s still fast asleep, but he’s since shifted sleeping positions, and he’s hugging your pillow.
How cute?
When he wakes up, you expect him to be hungover and grouchy from all his boozing, and you just know he’ll play it up for attention. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend it’s that he dies for attention, and he simply cannot resist being babied.
‘Wakey wakey sleepyhead.’
You place the heavy tray onto the bedside table, on the other side of it to avoid it getting bumped by mistake, and attempt to wake him again.
Still, nothing.
‘Jude,’ you mount him, peppering a million tiny kisses against the side of his pretty face. Even in his slumber, he looks perfect. ‘Come on, you got your eight hours, it’s time to wake up.’
He grunts, then sends you away.
‘But I got food,’ you object with feigned sadness.
But he doesnʼt budge.
Alright, sweet coaxing out the window. ‘Babe, I made honey butter toast and the ice-cream’s rapidly melting. Wake up.’
There’s another silent beat and then, ‘What the hell is that?’
Of course he doesn’t remember what it is.
‘Honey butter toast,’ you repeat, as if it’ll somehow miraculously make him know what it is. ‘That bread you saw on Pinterest and begged me to make.’
He’s still clueless, but at least you’ve got his attention. Finally, with a long groan, he sits up, moving cautiously to not send you tumbling to the floor.
‘What time is it?’
‘Ten.’
He cusses softly as he rubs his face. ‘I’m supposed to meet with my parents at eleven.’
You didn’t know that.
But it’s clearly nothing pressing because he doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that he’s running late. He yawns, rubs his eyes and face some more, then turns to you—sitting comfortably on his lap—and smiles. ‘Good morning.’
You mirror his expression. ‘Morning. You hungry?’
‘Starving. What’s for breakfast?’
‘Here,’ you slide off his lap to take the tray and hand it to him. ‘It’s my first time making it, so be nice.’
He assesses the tray of food you’ve placed before him, then looks back up at you. ‘Nine out of ten for the presentation.’
Your brows furrow, ‘Why not ten?’
‘Some of the ice-cream has melted and it looks a bit sloppy.’
‘Yeah, and who’s fault is that?’
He lets out a hearty laugh, but you’re not amused by this judge.
You climb back onto the bed, your eyes fixed on Jude as he puts the first forkful of the honey butter toast, with a little bit of the vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce, into his mouth.
He chews, then he moans, his eyes widen, more chewing, and then finally, he swallows.
This is a good reaction.
‘You like it?’
‘I love it,’ he cuts another piece of the toast. ‘Ten out of ten for the taste. Did you make the ice-cream and caramel sauce yourself?’
‘Alright, Paul Hollywood.’ You grab the extra fork you had on the tray and dig in—curious about the taste—and are met with protests from Jude. ‘I just want a little taste.’
‘Get your own.’
Your bottom lip juts out, it’s your turn to pout. ‘Yeah, but I’m pregnant.’
With a heavy sigh, he proclaims, ‘And so it starts.’
You can’t help but laugh at his solemn tone.
The two of you remain in bed, even after he’s finished having his breakfast, because his outing with his parents has now been postponed to two o’clock. If it were any other day, you’d join them, but you promised to accompany Winnie to the art gallery and you don’t think you can get out of it.
Turning into your side, Jude questions, ‘Why does she have to go to the art gallery?’
Because she’s in her art girl era, inspired by her latest fling, an up-and-coming visual artist from Portugal. His name’s Baltasar, and they met at Coachella a couple months back, and lately, he’s all she ever talks about. You think she’s in love.
‘A visual artist?’
‘Yep.’
‘So he’s broke?’
‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ you chide.
He doesn’t care though, he thinks it’s funny.
‘You’re such an asshole, d’you know that?’
‘Babe, I’m just kidding.’
Yeah, right.
‘Well, she really likes him so if she mentions it to you, keep the bad jokes to yourself.’
‘Noted,’ his mouth connects with your cheek.
The conversation smoothly transitions from Winnie’s new boyfriend to Jobe, who’s relentlessly trying to convince his older brother to take a short trip to Ibiza before he has to report for international duty. You think it’s a great idea, a final hoorah before it gets serious again.
‘Will you come with?’
‘Ibiza sober? Count me out.’
‘I’ll drink for the both of us.’
‘Uh, definitely not,’ your fingers glide up and down his naked back. ‘And I think Jobe wants this to be a boy’s trip. No girlfriends.’
‘But you’re not my girlfriend.’
Huh? ‘I’m not?’
‘You recently got upgraded to baby mum.’
He’s an idiot. Who even laughs at their own jokes this much? Either way, you’re not going to Ibiza with them. It’s another half hour of mindless chatter before you ask,
‘What time is it?’
‘Early.’
‘Jude, I’m being serious,’ you reach blindly for your phone and find it on the other end of the bed. ‘I need to start getting ready.’
‘Can’t you postpone it for another day?’
‘Winnie leaves tomorrow night.’
But he’s not budging, and so you have to use all of your might to shove him off of you.
Your strength leaves him shook. ‘Where’d that come from?’
‘It’s all those training sessions you’re paying for.’
He swells with pride—men.
‘Will you join me?’
Jude perks up.
‘But we’re only showering, nothing else.’
And he’s dejected.
‘I’ll just sit on the side and watch.’
That’s fine by you.
He follows you into the bathroom, and you think you hear him mumble something about you making it worth his while.
///
What your gallery date conveniently forgot to mention was that Baltasar would be joining your gallery excursion. Had you known he’d be here, you would’ve asked Jude to tag along so it could be a double date or something.
Jude: How’s it going? 🖼️
You’re miserable here, and you’re pretty sure you’re third wheeling. And look, you want to be supportive of your best friend, right? But it’s so hard to be when the guy she’s seeing’s the textbook definition of an asshole.
You’re one pretentious comment away from faking morning sickness to get out of this.
You: I’m having the worst time
You: The art is great, but he’s so smug 🙄
And he’s rude, so rude, and he’s determined to talk over you.
Jude: The artist? 🎨🧑🎨
You: Yeah, I don’t think he likes me :/
And you’d actually be doing him a favour by leaving, you’d be doing you both the favour because at this point, you feel like you’re intruding and you’re starting to feel awkward.
Jude: Well fuck him
His text makes you chortle.
At least Winnie’s making an effort to include you. Every now and again, she’ll ask for your opinion on certain pieces, but in the end, you just can’t do it.
You can’t be here anymore.
‘Hey,’ you lightly tap Winnie’s shoulder.
She turns to regard you, ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Can I talk to you for a second?’
‘Sure.’
She excuses herself from Baltasar, who’s really displeased with your intrusion, and you find a quiet corner.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the art’s great, but I’m not feeling too hot.’
‘Oh no,’ her brows knit in concern, ‘is it morning sickness?’
She’s buying it, good.
‘I think I’m going to head home, you know, to lie down for a couple hours.’
‘Yeah, alright,’ she takes your hand in hers and lightly squeezes it.
‘But how will you get back to the apartment?’
You are her ride home after all.
‘I was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon with Baltasar,’ she looks over her shoulder at him and when she looks back at you, she’s blushing, ‘but what about you? Are you fine to drive in your condition?’
‘It’s just a little nausea, I promise I’ll be fine.’
It takes a minute to convince her, but you don’t relent, and in the end, you manage to convince her.
‘Now go,’ you nudge her towards her waiting love interest. ‘Have fun with your boyfriend–’
‘Uh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ she quickly interjects, her voice dropping to a scolding whisper.
You smile knowingly, sure he isn’t.
‘What makes you say he’s my boyfriend? Did he say something to you?’
‘No, but I saw the way you were looking at him,’ you shrug, ‘the way he was looking at you.’
Winnie’s uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.
‘I’ve clearly misread the situation,’ you start backing away from her. ‘But we’ll talk more about it later, okay?’
‘Promise to text me when you get home.’
‘I pinky promise to call you when I get home,’ you blow her a kiss.
You wave goodbye to Baltsar, who seems pleased to see you go, and then you’re out of there.
It’s a short drive home from the gallery, and you’re glad to be back home, but you wish Jude was here with you.
You: I miss you.
As soon as the message’s sent, you regret sending it. But you can always blame pregnancy for making you so clingy.
You fall back onto the bed with a long exhale. What to do with your time? You could watch a movie or you could go the self-care route.
The other day, a skincare brand sent you a few collagen face masks you’ve been dying to try. It’s one of those that melts into your skin. And since you’re on that path, you can also soak in the tub ‘cause you haven’t done that in a while. And if you’re really up to it, maybe you can do your nails.
But first:
You: Got home safe. Have fun with your friend ;) can’t wait to hear about it later x
Jude misses you too. He’s also still with his parents but should be home before dinner.
You: Did you tell them about… 🫄
Jude: No. I thought we’d do it together.
That’s a good plan.
You: Great idea. I’ll see you later, I love you x
Jude: I love you more 😘
Dinner time’s a while away, so you’ve got plenty of time to have your self-care afternoon.
The tub is halfway full, the bubbles foaming, the steam and aroma engulfing the space when your phone notifies you that someone’s at the door.
Your body’s sheathed by a robe, but you still feel indecent as you make your way to the door.
The doorbell goes off a second time just before you reach the door, and when you open it, the last person you expect to find standing on the other side of it is Coralie.
Yes, Coralie’s at your door and she looks like. . . Well, she looks like shit.
‘Y/N,’ she forces her lips into a tight smile. ‘Hi.’
The shock has you frozen for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. ‘Jude’s not home.’
You’re curt because you want her out of your sight and you’ve left the water running in the bathroom.
‘I know he isn’t.’
She does?
‘I’m not here to see Jude, I’m actually here to see you.’
Of course she’s here to see you.
‘Why?’
‘‘Cause there’s so much we need to talk about, woman to woman.’
“Woman to woman”, what a joke? And it takes everything in you to stop your eyes from rolling. What the fuck does that even mean?
‘Can’t we schedule this for another time? I’m kinda in a rush.’
‘It won’t take long, I promise.’
Hell, she can’t take a hint, can she?
‘Can I come in?’
‘We can’t talk about whatever it is here?’ you tighten your grip around the door handle to stop your hand from shaking. ‘I mean, you said it yourself, it won’t take long.’
‘Yeah, but it’s weird doing it at the door, so can I come in?’
‘You’re in no position to call the shots.’
‘Please,’ she sounds desperate. ‘I just need ten minutes of your time, then I promise I’ll go.’
The more you look at her, the worse she looks. Honestly, she looks like she’s been to hell and back, and if you didn’t hate her so much, you’d feel sympathy.
‘Ten minutes, then you have to leave.’
‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’
And so despite your better judgement, you step to one side to allow her into the apartment. As you shut the door, you offer her a drink.
‘I’ll have a water, thank you.’
‘We’ve got water in the fridge.’ You walk towards your bedroom to shut off the running water, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’
On the short trek, you dig your phone from your robe pocket.
You: Coralie’s here she says she wants to talk but i’m uneasy
You shut the faucet. You quickly change out of your robe into the first clothing items you stumble upon, which are the sweats Jude was wearing earlier. They’re loosely fitting, but they’re comforting because they smell like him.
Coralie’s in the living room, bottle of water in hand, and she’s focused on something out the window.
‘Sorry I took so long.’
Your sudden intrusion snaps her out of her reverie, ‘It’s fine.’
Her eyes are fixed on you as you move around the space to take your seat on the sectional, feet tucked beneath your bum.
This is so awkward.
‘So,’ you start, breaking the ice, ‘you said you wanted to talk?’
You heard Jude out, so it’s only fair that you hear Coralie’s side of the story.
‘Right,’ she clears her throat. ‘I assume you know about our. . .’
‘Affair?’
She winces at your choice of words.
‘Yeah, I do.’
‘And he told you everything?’
‘That you got drunk last December and hooked up? That you’ve been hooking up behind my back for the last six months?’
She sits perfectly still, but her trembling lower lip betrays her.
‘That you were sending inappropriate texts, pictures, and videos. . .’ you continue, pleased to see her squirm in her seat. ‘Am I missing anything else?’
It’s only been, what? Five days since you last saw her, but in the short time span, she’s aged a decade. Coralie’s never disclosed her age, but you’ve always placed her in her late-twenties, maybe early-thirties, but today she looks well into her forties.
‘How did you find out?’
‘I saw the drunk text you sent him, what did it say again?’ you pause for dramatic effect. ‘Right, “I’m drunk and I miss you. Call me.”’
She’s fidgeting with the bottle in her hand, her head bowing in shame. ‘Y/N, I’m really sorry.’
‘What are you apologising for?’
‘All of it.’ She looks up at you, ‘I’m sorry that you found out the way you did.’
You hear her, but you’re not ready to accept her apology. Especially because she’s cutting into your self-care time with this crap.
‘Who made the first move?’
‘Jude did.’
Your heart aches at the revelation, it’s like someone has driven a sharp knife into it.
‘He was upset at you, he didn’t say why but he was really cut up about a fight you had,’ she proceeds. ‘And if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.’
You think you might throw up.
‘But he was drunk, we both were, and. . .’ her voice trails.
An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room because really, what else is there to say?
‘Do you love him?’
‘Does it matter?’
It doesn’t matter, but you want to know. Let’s say it’s curiosity.
‘He’s hard not to love.’
That’s true.
‘But am I in love with him? No.’
Some of the tension in your shoulders eases.
‘And he doesn’t love me either,’ and she almost sounds sad when she says that. ‘It was only ever sex between us, nothing more.’
But the texts. . . what did they mean?
‘Nothing,’ she insists. ‘Call it harmless flirtation.’
‘Harmless?’
She flushes, ‘You know what I mean.’
So you now know that he was mad at you, they were both drunk, they fucked and you think Coralie regrets it, but you’re not sure.
‘Who pursued it?’
‘What?’
‘Your. . . thing, the affair,’ it irks you to say it.
‘Oh, Y/N, I don’t think you–’
‘Was it Jude?’
‘He loves you.’
‘I know he loves me.’
Coralie’s quiet which furthers your frustration at her.
‘Did he pursue the affair?’
‘Why does it matter? It doesn’t change anything because in the end, he chose you.’ It’s like it pains her to say it. ‘He’ll always choose you.’
You nod.
After another long and awkward silence, she professes, ‘You know, I felt awful deceiving you because you really are such a good person.’
‘Don’t start with that crap.’
‘No, I mean it. You’re a good person, and we were friends–’
‘We were never friends,’ you interrupt. ‘You were never my friend.’
You tolerated her, there’s a difference.
‘I know you’re upset with me, and trust me, I get it, but come on,’ she persists. ‘We were friendly with each other.’
‘You sleep with all your friends’ boyfriends?’
That shuts her up.
‘Look, Coralie, I appreciate the apology,’ you pull your phone from the sweatpants pocket to check the time and discover eight missed calls from Jude. ‘But you said you’d be here for ten minutes, and you’ve exceeded that time.’
‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but there’s one last thing I want to tell you.’
Your stomach twists with dread—she better not tell you that she’s pregnant. The cheating you can move past, but a child you can’t recover from.
‘You’re pregnant?’
‘What?’ She looks offended that you’d even ask her that question. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’
You sigh in relief.
She’s not pregnant, but she did lose her job. She received the call this morning to let her know that her services were no longer required by the club. She’s certain Jude had something to do with it, so she’s here to plead with you to talk sense into him.
‘And I meant what I said, I really am sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused in your life, but Y/N, I really need this job,’ she concludes.
‘How are you so sure he had something to do with it?’
She shoots you an incredulous look as if to say, ‘Really?’
‘And if he did have something to do with it, what makes you think he’d listen to anything I have to say?’
‘Because you told him to end our arrangement and he did.’
‘But you said it yourself, you mean nothing to him.’
She flinches again.
‘I mean, I can try to talk to him, but I can’t promise you anything.’
‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘That’s all I ask.’
‘Well, like I said, I have somewhere to be so–’
You don’t get to finish the sentence, ‘cause you’re cut off by a panicked Jude who storms into the apartment, followed by an equally panicked Mark.
‘Babe?’
Thank the heavens he’s here.
///
You wake up in the middle of the night to find Jude’s side of the bed empty. At first you think he’s in the bathroom, but when five minutes pass and he’s not back, the panic sets in. You grab your phone off of the bedside table to check the time: 2:38.
Where the hell is he?
You sit up and search the dark room for traces of him, but there’s nothing—only his phone on the bedside table.
It’s been hours since your confrontation with Coralie, but you’re yet to process it all. You’re still in shock at the fact that she rocked up at your door the way she did, but you’d be lying if you said the conversation wasn’t cathartic.
‘Jude?’
You push the covers away and climb off of the bed. After you locate your house shoes, you set out to find him.
His phone is here, so he shouldn’t be far.
‘Jude?’
As you make your trek down the short passage, you hear soft chatter coming from the TV room. When you turn the corner, you find Jude sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table.
A smile takes over your face at the sight of him.
‘Hey, you,’ he greets you as you crawl into his lap.
‘Hi,’ you tuck your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. ‘What are you watching?’
‘Pulp Fiction.’
Of course he is.
‘Why’re you up?’
You trace patterns on his t-shirt clad chest. ‘I woke up and you weren’t in bed. I panicked.’
He tightens his arms around you, ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ you sit up. ‘This pregnancy has me acting weird.’
‘Yeah, blame it on the pregnancy,’ he teases.
‘Shut up,’ you shift to straddle him. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’
His hands settle on your waist, ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
There’s still so much to discuss in terms of Coralie and her claims, but tonight just isn’t the time for that.
‘Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?’
‘Yeah,’ he takes your mouth into a deep kiss.
‘Come to bed with me,’ you whisper against his lips, moaning when he slips a hand between you, teasing his fingers through your slick folds.
‘I don’t think we’ll make it to bed.’
///
Tagged:
@luv4bellingham
#jude bellingham#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham scenario#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#Jude Bellingham one shot#Jude Bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham fanfiction#Jude Bellingham scenarios
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The Bad Batch Finale and Joel Aron’s cryptic tweet
Okay so Joel Aron, Director of Cinematography Lighting & VFX at Lucasfilm, tweeted this:
Initially, I thought that this was going to be the runtime of S3E15 The Cavalry Has Arrived. This episode being longer would make sense as it’s the finale of the show and it’s close in length to S1E1 Aftermath. However, I saw a screenshot floating around the other day that says the runtime of the final episode “spans 24 to 25 minutes”.
If this episode is the typical length then this timestamp must be referring to a different piece of media. The question is, what media? In an effort to determine what could happen in the finale, I went to that point in the films to see what I would find. None of them strike as much fear in me as what’s happening in A New Hope.
The Phantom Menace - Anakin has just won the pod race and they are celebrating his victory.
Attack of the Clones - Jango Fett and Boba Fett have just attacked Obi-Wan with seismic charges.
Revenge of the Sith - Anakin is looking out over Coruscant from the Jedi Council room. He has just revealed to Mace Windu that Palpatine is a Sith.
A New Hope - Before leaving to disable the tractor beam on the Death Star, Obi-Wan delivers a line which may foreshadow what’s to come in The Bad Batch.
Empire Strikes Back - Luke is trying to lift the ship out of the swamp on Dagobah.
Return of the Jedi - Luke, Han, and Chewbacca, along with the droids, are captured by the Ewoks.
Star Wars: The Clone Wars - Anakin and Ahsoka are heading towards Tatooine to deliver Jabba’s son back to him.
At 01:09:56:01 in A New Hope, or as close to it as I could get (Disney+ sucks) this is what we see:
Sorry it’s a photo of my computer, I don’t know how y’all take screenshots of Disney+.
“Your destiny lies along a different path from mine.”
Many people have been theorising that the show could end with the Batch and Omega surviving but being separated, either by choice or by circumstance. This line from A New Hope, as well as the fact that Omega’s voice actor, Michelle Ang, has described the ending as “bittersweet”, definitely make that a solid theory.
Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree though. There’s also speculation about whether Omega is force sensitive, so maybe Luke using the force in Empire Strikes Back is the real clue. Despite Ventress not believing Omega to have a high m-count, and her not being one of Hemlock’s designated m-count specimens, we have seen characters with a low m-count who were capable of wielding the force. Sabine Wren, for example.
Still, Omega being force sensitive doesn’t prevent the theory that she gets separated from the Batch from being true. It could actually be a reason for that separation because she may pursue training or decide that her proximity to the Batch endangers them.
But wait, there’s more!
At this timestamp in S1E1 Aftermath, Omega is on the Marauder with the Bad Batch (minus Crosshair) and they’re setting off on what will be her first big adventure. Omega’s Theme is playing and she’s gazing out at space with child-like wonder. While they’ve just parted ways with Crosshair, the overall feeling in this scene is hopeful.
If the tweet is referring to this episode, it could mean that we get a wholesome Bad Batch family moment. Whether Tech is there or not may rely on CX-2 being unmasked. Perhaps it’s bittersweet because Tech truly is dead or because he’s alive but they cannot save him from the Empire. Or maybe it’s bittersweet for a whole host of other reasons.
Honourable mention
@kiffobaby also looked into what is happening at this timestamp if you combine the runtimes (including credits) of all episodes in clone relevant story arcs and didn’t really find anything of note. If credits were removed then it would put at us a different point in the arc, however it’s unlikely that we’d be looking for a timestamp in an arcs combined duration anyway.
If you’ve read this far, I love you and don’t worry, we’re almost done.
Secret 16th episode?
Seasons 1 and 2 each had 16 episodes which leads me to speculate that this timestamp could actually be the runtime of the final episode, a secret 16th episode.
Is it likely? No. Can I dream? Yes.
#star wars#star wars the bad batch#star wars the clone wars#the bad batch#tbb#bad batch#sw tbb#tbb spoilers#the clone wars#the bad batch spoilers#star wars rebels#the bad batch speculation#star wars the phantom menace#star wars attack of the clones#star wars revenge of the sith#star wars a new hope#star wars empire strikes back#star wars return of the jedi#hunter tbb#hunter the bad batch#tech the bad batch#tech tbb#echo the bad batch#echo tbb#wrecker the bad batch#wrecker tbb#crosshair the bad batch#crosshair tbb#omega the bad batch#omega tbb
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