#even just an acknowledgement that angst is a thing that exists
Text
too much (k.th)
wc. 3087
summary. when your ex-boyfriend shows up at your door, the last thing you want to do is to let him in. but his phone is dead, and the storm outside isn’t letting up anytime soon, and he really needs some dry clothes (and a warm body)
genre. angst + smut
tags. minors DNI!!! taehyun x fem!reader, exes to lovers, unprotected sex
a/n. the long awaited honeymoon avenue part two!! thank you for being patient with me for this. i’m so happy it’s actually done!
more of my work
he’s standing outside your door, his hair and clothes drenched by the relentless downpour, an awkward smile clinging to his face like a mask. his soaked clothes also cling onto his frame and your mind swarms with confusion and frustration.
“what are you doing here?” you demand.
ignoring your question, he looks past you. his eyes fixated on the warmth emanating from your cozy, dry apartment. without waiting for an invitation, he asks, “can i come in?” reluctantly, you step aside. not because you really wanted him there, but because you wanted to shield your wooden floors from the relentless storm outside.
the wetness that clung to him mirrored the unresolved tension between you – heavy, uncomfortable, cold.
“thank you,” he mumbles, shedding himself of his sodden jacket and hanging it on your coat rack. the wetness drips onto your floors but he doesn’t acknowledge it. instead he pushes his usually meticulously styled hair, out of his face, where it clung in disarray.
your irritation grows as you press him again. “taehyun, again, what are you doing here?”
“i was in the area, and the storm started. this was the only place i knew that was nearby,” he casually explains.
“you live half an hour away from here.” he shrugs again, as if everything had lost its significance in the face of the storm outside, even space, time, and the months of silence between the two of you. “let me get you some dry clothes,” you relent. you disappear into your room. a brief flashback to your painful breakup flickers in your mind.
you looked at your phone again. it had been five minutes since you last called him and forty five minutes since he was supposed to meet you at the restaurant. he was the one who had originally planned to come here, but fifteen missed calls and twenty five unread text messages later, he was nowhere to be seen. and once again, you looked like the idiot who actually believed that your boyfriend was capable of changing.
you looked up at your waiter, who shot you an apologetic glance. gathering your things, you walked out the restaurant, but not before leaving a fifty dollar tip to your waiter for the second hand embarrassment he probably faced that evening on your behalf.
you fished around the back of your closet for old clothes and grabbed a towel from your dresser. you return to the living room and hand him the towel without a word. he takes it, you fingers brushing briefly. he dries his face and his hair, his eyes never leaving you. you try your hardest to avoid eye contact with him. another crash of thunder rumbles through the house, and for a moment, you both look towards the sound.
when your gazes return to each other, you shove the dry clothes towards him. taehyun’s eyes linger on the clothes, an extra large pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. he quirks an eyebrow and scoffs. “moved on already?”
“they are my brother’s,” you respond bluntly, a subtle defiance in your tone. “and you can leave when the storm clears up.” you leave him to change in solitude. the storm outside rages and you can’t shake the feeling that this unexpected reunion might dredge up more than just old memories.
you got home that night and stripped yourself of the new dress that you had just gotten earlier that day. you ought to burn it. any reminder of the humiliation you just faced had to disappear off the face of the earth. you checked your phone, seeing if taehyun had finally remembered that you existed or finally decided that you were worthy of a response. but the only notification you had received in the time since you left the restaurant was an email with a free shipping coupon from an online store that you swore to never shop at again.
you turned off your phone and went to bed. there was no point in staying up, checking your phone every five minutes to see if he would actually text you back. tomorrow, you decided, you will be done with taehyun, for good this time.
you are pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. you look up to see your ex-boyfriend standing in his newly dried clothes. “hey,” he says softly, his hands finding a home on the back of his neck. his gaze is uncertain, as if he’s not entirely sure how you will receive him.
“yes?” he slowly opens the door further.
“i just wanted to apologize for what i said earlier.” he cautiously inches towards you.
“it’s fine, tae.” you take a deep breath, your voice softening ever so slightly. he stops himself from smiling at the use of the nickname.
“no, it’s not fine,” he begins. “you let me into your house and i insult you after ten minutes of being here.” he shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to bear the weight of your gaze.
“taehyun, what are you doing here?” a note of frustration creeps into your voice.
“i wanted to see you.” he replies simply.
you run your hands through your hair. “god, i can’t do this right now.” you say, mostly to yourself – a reminder, almost, that you cannot let yourself fall for him again.
“i’m sorry, i just…” his voice trails off, as if he is struggling to find the right words to say.
“you can’t just show up like this, taehyun. it’s not fair.” you sigh again. “it’s not fair to either of us.”
as each second of this conversation passes, he sees the stress lines deepen on your face. he slumps his shoulders. “i know, and i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have come here unannounced, especially with everything that happened between us.” he cannot meet your piercing gaze. “but the rain just reminded me of that night after my parents, and i couldn’t get you out of my head. i just had to see you.”
when you got to the hotel that night, he went straight to the front desk and asked the receptionist for a cot to be delivered to your room. in the room, he went straight to the bathroom, not saying a word to you.
you couldn’t figure him out – was he mad at you? did he not want to talk to you because he thought you didn’t want to talk to him? regardless, you slip out of your wet clothes and sit on the desk chair waiting for him to get out of the bathroom. when he does, you shower, trying so hard to scrub off the entire evening from your body.
stepping out of the shower, you took a look at yourself in a wiped out section of the obscured mirror. your face was exhausted and your eyes were red and puffy. you slipped into your pajamas and returned to the bedroom to find all the lights and taehyun fast asleep on the cot.
“i fucked up; i know i did,” he looks at you now, trying to find some glimmer of hope that you could forgive him. “but i just needed to see you – talk to you. i’ve been thinking a lot about us and about what went wrong.”
you swallowed hard, the memories of your break up still fresh in your mind. you know it doesn’t matter. you know that you can’t change what happened. you even know that getting an actual answer would ruin all the work you had done to get over him. but against everything in you, you ask him, “why didn’t you show up?”
“what?”
“at the restaurant, why didn’t you come?” you feel a pang in your chest, the familiar ache of unresolved feelings bubbling up to the surface. “taehyun, you just let me wait there. you didn’t call me or text me, not even the next morning.”
“i don’t know. i’m sorry.”
you’re not sure why you asked or what you even wanted from him. you just wanted the pain to end and part of you hoped that he could end it. but you had come to learn not to expect much from taehyun. “you can’t keep saying that every time you hurt me.”
“i know, but i mean it.” he inches closer to you, hoping that by seeing him and the regret that marks his face, you would let him in again.
and it almost works.
you almost forgive him but your better mind fights with all its might to keep your hand, that is itching to reach out for him, down. “i should get you a blanket.” you stand up from the bed and move over to your closet to fish for a spare blanket. you give it to him and you go your separate ways for the night – him on the couch and you in the quiet of your bedroom.
you lay in bed, trying hard to fall asleep but your mind drifts to the man in your living room, wondering if he is still awake, thinking about you. you stare at the space underneath your door. after what feels like thirty minutes, the hallway light suddenly turns off.
you get out of bed to see what caused the power outage. when you open the door, you see taehyun outside your room with his phone flashlight glaring right at you. you jump back in surprise. “what are you doing?”
“sorry,” he quickly apologizes, stepping back. “sorry, the power went out and i came to see if you had a candle or something. i didn’t want to keep using my phone because it’s about to die.”
you go to your bathroom and bring out a cheap scented candle to the living room. “this is the only thing i have.”
the two of you sit on the couch together, the worn fabric feels familiar beneath you. the candle sits on the coffee table between you, casting an uneven glow onto your faces. the wind howls outside, rattling the window panes of your small living room.
this scene, with the uncomfortable silence as you both shift in your seats, is almost laughable. you pull your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly as you stare at the flickering flame. occasionally your eyes flick to him, tentative, as if gauging the right moment to speak.
“did i wake you up?” taehyun finally fills the silence.
“no,” you begin, scratching the back of your neck. “i couldn’t sleep.”
lightning flashes, followed by a loud crash of thunder. you wince, your hands gripping around your legs tighter. he moves closer to you, his hand finding yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on the feeling of his hands – the warmth and familiarity of his touch.
when you opened your eyes, you loosened your grip on his hands. “sorry, about that.”
he shrugs it off, “i forgot you were scared of thunder.”
“yeah,” you sit up straight. taehyun doesn’t move from his position next to you.
“maybe it was a good thing that i showed up after all.”
you couldn’t even try to stifle your laughter. “yeah, you’re my knight in shining armor.” you joke.
“i’m just saying, what would you have done if i wasn’t here with you and the power went out?”
“if you weren’t here i’d probably be asleep, i wouldn’t have noticed it.”
“you wouldn’t have noticed the power went out?” taehyun teases you. “you’re the lightest sleeper i know.”
you don’t know why you allowed yourself fall back into comfortable conversation with him but everything goes by in a blur and suddenly you’re laying on the couch with taehyun hovering over your body. he slowly closes the distance between your bodies. he puts his hands on either side of you, giving you no option but to stare deeply into his big brown eyes. “tell me to stop and i will,” he whispers. “hell, i’ll even leave right now. i’ll go home and never bother you again. just tell me to stop.”
his eyes scan your face and you gulp at the feeling of his eyes gravitating towards your lips. “i don’t want you to stop.” you move slowly towards him, part of you hesitant to close the gap between the two of you, because closing the gap means willingly opening yourself up for him to hurt you again.
but when you see how the candlelight twinkles in his eyes, it’s easy for the other part of you to ignore your fears. it’s this part of you that pulls him into a passionate kiss, your hands delicately cupping his face.
your hands slide underneath his shirt but he stops you. your brows furrow in confusion. “what are you doing?” you ask him.
“i just need you to know that i’m sorry.”
“i know,” you run your hands through his now slightly damp hair. “i know you are, baby.”
he brings you upwards to gently peck your lips before leaning you back against the arm of the couch again. you pull him to kiss you again and as the kiss depeens, he takes the opportunity to suck on your lower lip, using his hand to slowly graze your covered breasts. you arch your back, bringing your chest closer to his body.
“i missed you,” taehyun confesses in between the kiss. “i missed you so fucking much.”
“me too,” you mirror him pathetically. all of your sense and self restraint flew out the window. taehyun stands, lifting you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. he leans in to kiss you again. you respond eagerly, parting your lips to make way for his. he holds you tightly as he leads you away from the dimly lit living room towards the darkness of your bedroom. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer as if afraid that he might vanish.
the two of you stumble through the hallway, bumping into walls, laughing breathlessly between kisses. taehyun pins you against the wall. your back hits the wall with a gentle thud, and you gasp, giving him a moment for his lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. you tilt your head back, closing your eyes, a soft moan escaping your lips. he tugs at your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him.
you arch into him, and your bodies mold together as you inch closer to your bedroom. taehyun pushes the door open with his food, stepping inside and laying you gently on the bed. you pull him down with you. “i need you.” you breathe out. you feel his hard dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. you squeeze him tightly, the way you know he likes it and you’re reassured when he gasps.
you don’t remember the last time you felt like this, like a horny teenager, sneaking a boy who should not be there into your bedroom, doing everything you can to get off. but regardless, taehyun feeds off your excitement, hoping that by you releasing your inhibitions with him, there still remains even a one percent chance that he can slide back into your life as you always let him.
you let taehyun guide his cock inside of you, anticipation and excitement fills your entire body when he pushes in. he takes all of you in, pressing his lips against yours as he slides in. you’re both moaning pitifully into each other’s mouths. you hate to admit how much you wish you could go back to when you guys were together. there’s just something about him being here in your bed with you that feels so normal, so natural, so good. for a second, you allow yourself to forget all the bad parts about your relationship – all the arguments and the fights, all the late nights waiting for him to come home, all the longing and all the pain. for a second, you only focus on how good he’s making you feel right now.
he wastes no time in picking up the speed, knowing how desperate for him you must be. your nails dig into the skin on his back, holding him closer to you. “you’re so big,” you moaned.
“i know baby,” he cooed. he’s so big inside of you. your walls haven’t felt this stretch in so long and you can’t stop yourself from clenching around him with every thrust. the way he grunts into your ear from the exertion has you clamping around him even more. “you’re so perfect to me,” he says between each thrust. “so so perfect for me.”
blood rushes up to your face and you try to hide it in the pillow by your side but taehyun turns your head. “i wanna see your face,” he says with a smirk on his face. he knows you fold every time he looks at you and of course you quickly nod your head, bringing his body closer to you with your legs.
his pace is unrelenting; you can’t last another second. you can’t stop yourself from crying out his name as a wave of ecstasy washes over you. he lets your walls spasm around his dick erratically as his hands press into your hips to hold you in place. taehyun realizes that he’s still weak for you when he sees your orgasm take over.
taehyun quickly cums too. “i love you,” he says as he does, finishing inside of you, his hips stilling as you milk him dry.
taehyun comes back down to earth first, slipping out of you, but still holding you close to his sweaty body as he lays back on the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around you. it takes a while for you to join him, but when the hallway light flickers as he whispers i love you, you quickly come back down in a panic. your body freezes up as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.
beside you, taehyun notices your change. he starts caressing your arm, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your chin, every part of your face he can reach, anything he can do to make you go back to how you were just a few moments ago. you allowed yourself to fall into his trap, do as he wanted. you snuggled closer to him and allowed yourself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of his breathing slowing down.
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did you hear what i said?
pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader
summary: after a year of secretly dating, theo breaks things off when classes start up again. it's now christmas eve and he's back with a figurative box of regret / requested by anonymous.
author's note: angst! there will be a part two with fluff, but i just needed to get this out since i've been writing this for too long. (please) feel free to leave angsty requests in my inbox because this is the genre that gets my gears going! but i make no promises on resolutions and happy endings ♡
"You look happier."
Theodore stands in front of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, his hands shoved into his pockets. His presence garners murmurs all around, even though the Great Hall was emptier than usual for the holidays. The sight of him makes your breath catch. It's been three months since you last spoke to him, but the memory of that night resurfaces, ripping open the wound on your healing heart.
It was back in September.
Theo had passed you a note in Potions, asking you to meet him in the Astronomy Tower after dark. It wasn't a peculiar ask, so you didn't think much of it at the time. The Astronomy Tower had become your and Theo's spot. A quiet place for the two of you to just exist—no interruptions and no expectations from the outside world. Your house rivalry was nothing in that tower. It was just you and Theo.
The two of you would spend hours hiding there, often cuddled on top of a lush blanket you had hidden nearby. You'd talk about anything and everything with him, from learning about each other's likes and dislikes to venting about classes and classmates. On nights where the two of you favoured serenity, it was never unpleasant. You'd embrace the quiet, exchanging sweet kisses all the while enjoying the comfort and protection of his arms.
That night in September was different, though. You sensed it the minute you ascended the steps to see Theo standing stiffly by the railing, his gaze concentrating on a bird on the horizon.
Theo didn't even turn to face you—acknowledge you—before he was muttering the words that shattered your heart into pieces.
"I'm over this." Theo said, his tone void of any emotion. His hand clutched onto the railing so tightly that his knuckles were pale.
Stunned silence fell over you. You just looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Did you hear what I said?" Theo turned to you then, and you could see the pained expression on his features. But then something shifted, and his expression turned cold. "I'm breaking up with you."
His words on their own were harsh, but the inflection on each syllable felt like he was personally twisting a serrated knife into your heart.
"I don't understand." You said. "Why? What did I—"
"I feel like you're getting attached, and I think we've run our course." Theo interrupted. His eyes, the ones you became so accustomed to, were dark and flooded with an expression even you weren't familiar with. Theo scoffed. "You didn't actually think we'd last, did you?"
Maybe it was the naive and hopeless romantic in you, but you truly believed you would. House rivalries, judgemental friends, and family expectations were merely obstacles the two of you would deal with together. You just felt so strongly about him, and you were certain he felt the same about you.
"Did you hear what I said?" The Theodore standing in front of you jerks you back to the present.
You blink, and you nearly drop your fork.
"I heard you," you say firmly, returning your attention back to the half-eaten plate in front of you. You make yourself look busy and uncaring (as much as you could with food and a full stomach), as if Theodore's sudden presence had no effect on you.
Theodore shifts in his spot, his eyes darting to the empty seat in front of you, silently contemplating whether he should take it or cut his losses and leave. Reluctantly, he settles on the former. This makes you tense, your lips pursing as he sits. It doesn't help that you were highly attentive to the whispers; your classmates were surely speculating why Theodore Nott would be choosing the company of a muggle-born on Christmas Eve. You put down your fork, bring your gaze to his, and let out an exhausted breath.
"Nott, what do you want?"
Hearing his last name from you makes his jaw clench. It was cold and formal, stripped of any history you two shared.
"Just wanted to know if you were as happy as you looked."
"You have no right to that type of information anymore."
"Humour me."
You glare at him. Theodore looks back at you with such shy tenderness that your gaze softens slightly.
Am I happy? you think.
Some days, sure. But most days, you find yourself wandering back to that dreadful night in September. Even after all these months, you still wonder if you had just said something different or fought back instead of taking it, maybe you and Theo would still be together.
It was why Ginny, the only poor soul who was aware of your relationship with Theo, had set you up with Michael Corner, a cute Ravenclaw boy in your year. He was smart, funny, and occasionally sweet, but he wasn't Theodore Nott.
Still, you persisted. You allowed yourself to indulge in the idea of being with Michael because the brooding Slytherin boy who had your heart had made his choice. You went on a few dates with Michael; he'd walk you to class, sit with you during Quidditch matches, and sometimes—when he was feeling courageous—he'd plant a kiss on your lips in the middle of the bustling corridor.
"I am." You lie, and you bite down on the insides of your cheeks. What good would it do to admit you weren't, especially to the cause of your turmoil?
Theodore watches you, practically analyzing your features. He doesn't have to say anything for you to know he didn't believe you, and you hated that—hated him, for having been so attentive to you that your tells were obvious.
"You are?" Theodore questions.
"That's what I said, didn't I?"
"I think you and I have a habit of saying things we don't mean."
His careful words and wistful gaze make you flush with embarrassment and anger. To this day, you still weren't sure why Theo had broken things off with you, and it was something that had kept you up countless nights. Through gritted teeth and cheeks stinging with remembered hurt, you say, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Theodore starts, his eyes flickering around to ensure no one was listening in. While a few lingering glances were sent your way, everyone was spread out far enough that it'd be hard to eavesdrop. He drops his voice anyway. "I shouldn't have said what I did that night. I didn't mean it. I don't mean it."
The anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach erupts, your eyes blazing. "Is this some sick game to you? It's been three months, Theodore. I spent three months crying over you and wondering what the hell I did to you to be so bloody cruel. And now when I'm finally ready to move on from you, you come back to tell me you... you didn't mean it?" The last words leave a dirty, salty taste in your mouth.
"No, no," Theodore shakes his head, swallowing thickly as you recounted the months of hell. He hadn't been doing any better either, but Theo was generally good at hiding his afflictions. Numbing the pain with weed and alcohol were among his favourite remedies. "It's not a game. It was never a game. You should know me well enough to know that I would never mean any of the things I said."
"Know you?" You almost laugh. You had replayed the breakup and the weeks leading up to it in your mind countless times, trying to make sense of the bullshit non-reason he had given when he broke up with you but nothing made sense. The whole thing made you spiral, questioning everything that had ever happened between you two. "I'm actually convinced I never really knew you, because the guy I knew would never have done that to me."
Having had enough of the conversation, you get up, leaving your half-eaten plate and a pained Theodore at the Gryffindor table. You're almost past the door of the Great Hall when Theo, as a last-ditch effort, grabs a hold of your wrist, hauling you to a stop. You let out a small huff and turn to face him.
"Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after dark." Theodore says softly, almost pleadingly. He makes a conscious effort to ignore all the prying eyes that turned.
"Because that worked out so well for me last time."
"Just—please. If you want to continue never speaking to each other again after that, then fine. But at least let me explain."
You had every intention of ignoring Theodore’s request. He didn’t deserve a chance to explain—the statute of limitations for explaining ended months ago. And yet, you found yourself sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room and up to the Astronomy Tower, inebriated by the countless what-ifs and string of memories: Theo sneaking a kiss on your lips as everyone turned to view whatever Hagrid had for Care of Magical Creatures, Theo resting his hand on your thigh during potions, Theo winking at you as you watched him play Quidditch.
“You’re here.” Theodore says, just as you reach the top of the staircase. He was sitting by the railing.
“I am,” you say as you walk toward him reluctantly. You settle next to him.
Theodore looks at you, and it looks like he’s about to say something, but then he shuts his eyes, shakes his head, and sighs.
You’ve never seen him at a loss for words. He was intentionally silent, sure, but his quick wit never failed him.
“I’ve regretted that night every day, you know.” He speaks up, his solemn eyes trained on yours. “I replay it over and over.”
Theodore’s gaze is unrelenting, brimming with seriousness and a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before. You tear your gaze away from his because the more he talks and looks at you like this, the more you find it hard to breathe.
“Then why do it? Why say those things?” You manage to ask.
Theodore’s jaw clenches. “Lesser of two evils.”
When you look at him with a confused expression, he continues, “It was better to lose you on those terms than to lose you completely.”
Silence falls on both of you, filling the space like a thick fog.
“I lost my mom when I was seven.” Theodore explains, his eyes darkening. “A freak accident.”
Out of the year you and Theo dated in secret, he had rarely mentioned his mom. And if he did, it was small tidbits—precious memories. Regardless of how small and insignificant the memory would seem to others, you gathered how important Theo’s mom was to him. Underneath Theo’s stoic expressions and calculating demeanour was a softness to Theo that could only be accredited to his mom.
“She got caught in the crossfire between some death eaters.” Theodore says, his expression pained. He drops his gaze now, but you keep your eyes on him. There’s a mixture of grief and anger that flashes across his features, and it takes everything in you to hold yourself back from reaching for him. To comfort him.
“It took me years to get over it. I don’t even think I am yet—I’m still angry at my father for allowing this shit into our lives and for continuing to do it.” Theodore says, letting out an exasperated breath. You knew what everyone else knew about Theo’s father—he was a blood purist, rumoured to be loyal to you-know-who. He’d hate you the moment he’d find out you were muggle-born.
Theo meets your gaze now, and it’s your turn to feel winded. It was like you were looking at your Theo again. The sweet, sarcastic, pain-in-your-ass-but-in-a-good-way Theo. “I lost my mom, who meant the world to me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I lost you too. So I pushed you away. I figured it was best to cut our losses before I pulled you into something you had no reason being in. Before I lost you permanently.”
“What’s changed?” You ask, shaking your head. His words were hard to process, but the pieces of the last few months were beginning to click into place. “I’m still me, and last I heard, your dad was still your dad.”
“I realized that, in a way, I was kind of like my dad.”
“What?”
“I mean,” Theo says. “My dad never gave any of us a choice. Not me, and not my mom. We always had to go along with him and deal with the consequences of his actions. I took a choice away from you, and you just had to deal with it. I don’t want to do that anymore. I still think I did it for the right reasons, but I regret it. I want to be with you. I should have told you what I was worried about—told you about the risks of being with me, so we could make a decision together.”
Together.
That’s all you wanted. You were more than willing to have dealt with any obstacle that was thrown your way, so long as you had Theo by your side.
But that was three months ago. And while his words brought goosebumps, butterflies, and heart palpitations, they also brought a slew of conflicting feelings. You understood why he broke things off now, and although his reasoning was well-intended, it didn’t excuse the fact that you had spent the last three months in a state of despair and heartbreak. You didn’t eat as much, your grades dropped, and you couldn’t even look at him until recently in fear of tears and the overwhelming rush of memories.
“So?”
“Theo,” you say softly. Your eyes search his face.
There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sound of his name. Not Theodore, not Nott. Theo.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He exhales sharply at your response, and his expression shifts as he turns to face the horizon. He wanted you to say it was worth the risk and that you wanted to be with him as much as he did. He wanted you to forgive him for what he did to you. “It’s fine.”
“No—I just... I need to think.” You say quickly. Your heart was screaming for him, but your brain was weary. And if the past three months taught you anything, it was that you needed to act with your brain and not your heart. “I just need time. This was a lot to process.”
“Right, of course.” Theo says with a curt nod. He turns to you again, offering a weak smile. It was his heart’s turn to break. “Well, thanks for coming tonight and letting me explain. I guess, just let me know.”
You watch him stand, brush the dirt off his robes, and turn away. Just as he reaches the staircase back down, he looks back at you. Your eyes catch his gorgeous arctic eyes, your cheeks burning and your heart racing.
"Merry Christmas, by the way." Theo says before he descends down the stairs.
#theodore nott#theo nott#harry potter imagine#slytherin x reader#theodore nott x you#theo nott x you#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theodore nott x y/n#slytherin boys#theo nott imagine#*writing
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MORE ANGST.
Like, okay, more angst for reader, but I need some angst for 141. Like PLEASE.
So, the reader, frustrated (mentally and physically), decides to take things onto their own hands. If they treat them as if they don't exist, so will they. It starts simple. They don't greet them good morning and goodbye anymore, when the team would only offer a grunt or nod of acknowledgment. Reader doesn't ask them to hang out, or to join into their plans. They start living for themselves, not quite leaving them, more like treating the four men like roommates. Whenever one would initiate intimacy, reader would slip away, offering some lame excuse. At the same time, just an hour later, they'd see a glimpse of reader, all dressed up and pretty, not bothering to let them know where they'd be going as they run out the front door, only to be heared from a couple of hours later. Stumbling through the front door with a second pair of footsteps following suit, and a hearty male laugh. The apartment was as much reader's as it was the boys' so it should be normal they brought someone home ... but was this what the task force 141 though?
changed it ever so slightly but I love this yes
c/w: poly!141, mentions of emotional neglect, alcohol, intoxication
you got the idea after scrolling through social media, rotting away in bed had become a common routine for you. an advertisement had popped up for a bar that opened up a few months ago, you remember asking johnny and kyle to go with you but they were too busy at the time
it looked like a nice enough place. not like the dive bars in camden that simon takes you to, or those annoying ass scotch bars in canary wharf that john insists on ‘introducing’ you to. as if you’ve never had a glass of scotch before. the memory makes you scoff to yourself
surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to convince yourself to just… go. if they won’t go with you, there’s no reason why you can’t convince yourself. they were too busy ignoring you to notice you’d be gone anyway. so, you drag yourself out of bed and rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear
looking good really does make you feel good, you say to yourself when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror once you were ready. you’d decided on a fitted black dress with a pair of black strapped heels. they wouldn’t notice but you added a bit of detail to the outfit
if they did notice that every piece of jewellery was a piece they had bought for you, it would fucking burn. the diamond skull-shaped studs that simon got you, the vintage locket that john had found for you when he was deployed, and the anklet that kyle had grabbed from some fancy jewellery store on oxford street paired with the stunning ring that johnny found at a local market in scotland
you took a deep breath and held your head high before grabbing your purse. when you entered the front room, all conversation stopped as usual. but only because they were too busy eyeing you up and down, “where’re you goin’ dressed like that?”
you roll your eyes when john speaks up, not even stopping to respond. a curt ‘out’ leaving your lips as you walk out the front door and slam it loudly. the boys all looked at each other, shifting in their seats uncomfortably at the interaction
john narrowed his eyes as he glared at the front door. he didn’t like not knowing where you were. even if you didn’t know it, john always knew about your whereabouts
the bar was nice, nice enough for you to drink your feelings away in. in your head, you imagined flirting with anyone just to make the boys jealous. but every time someone approached you, it just filled you with more sadness. perhaps a part of you just wanted the boys to grab you, persuade you to stay with sweet words and gentle kisses like they used to do when you looked this good
it was a few hours past midnight when you finally returned, simon awakened by the sounds of giggling outside and your keys jangling in the door. he didn’t plan on getting out of bed until he heard a male voice speaking along side yours
he stalked down the stairs, following the sounds of your heels stumbling until he found you in the front room. you were drunk out of your fucking mind with some random bloke holding you up. simon’s fists clenched at his side and he decided to make his presence known
“better take your hand off her before you fuckin’ lose it, mate.” he spits, taking a step closer to yank you from the man’s grip. you squeak and stumble from the harsh tug, landing right against simon’s bulky frame as he holds on to your arm to keep you steady
the man takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “woah, i’m not here to cause any trouble. was just making sure she got home safe. my colleague over served her and she said her roommates were too busy to pick her up.”
simon clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on the man and just waiting for him to step out of line. he doesn’t even notice that the others have climbed out of bed too, coming downstairs to hear what the commotion is about
he turns his head only to shove you into price’s arms, squaring his shoulders as he stares the bartender down. “well, our girl is home and safe now so you best be on your way.”
“relax, mate. she’s really not my type. that one there is more my type.” the bartender chuckles, nodding his head towards soap before turning around and walking out the door but not before giving you a goodbye
price steadies your body against him, already getting an idea of the kind of drunken state that you’re in. he lifts your basically limp body into his arms before carrying you up to bed but he doesn’t take you to the spare room. he takes you to what you have recently come to know as their room
“had a bit too much, princess?” he chuckles, placing you down on the bed. you look at him confused before letting your head fall to the pillow
“‘m still your princess?” you mumble into the fabric. price frowns slightly, turning his head to look at the boys before making work on taking your heels off
“course. you always have been.” he mumbles. you respond with a small hum before completely passing out against the sheets…
#mw2#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#captain john price#john price#john price x reader#ghost x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#john soap mctavish x reader#soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader
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ONE OF YOUR GIRLS.
PAIRING. heeseung x afab!reader
SYNOPSIS. It was difficult to contradict the rumors of you being obsessed with Lee Heeseung. But it was all true that you had a huge crush and a few wild fantasies about him. You were aware of his infamous reputation of how many girls he’s taken to his bed, yet you still wanted to be one of his.
WARNINGS. angst, fluff, contains smut! MINORS DNI. first time, fingering, unprotected sex, pull-out method. 7k words.
It started happening a few days ago when you heard the whispers of people making unsettling remarks about you. Apparently, you were obsessed with Lee Heeseung.
But the rumors were not true. You barely acknowledged Lee Heeseung’s existence, you certainly do not have the biggest crush on him, and most definitely didn’t have the fantasy to fuck him. These are wild statements to come out of someone’s mouth, but those were just rumors.
Well, that’s what you wanted people to think. It’s true that you have a crush on Heeseung, a huge one that gives you constant butterflies, in fact. It started off as small feelings in middle school because you just found him cute. Then in high school, you started to gain real feelings, an admiration for him. He was the smartest dude in school, the captain of the basketball team, and he was always soft spoken and sweet to anyone he talked to. It was impossible not to fall for him.
With all these years of having these feelings, you barely talked to him, even if being in the same circle of friends. Though, things started to change this school year. The friend group started to hang out often since ways would be parted for college next year. You and Heeseung started talking more and you even got to know each other better, which made you hopeful for something more.
But soon, you were met with bitterness, a feeling close to heartbreak. He started getting distant from everyone — especially from you. You overheard from the chatters around school that Heeseung was a major fuckboy now who slept with the girls at school. You never judged him, despite the aches in your chest that it caused.
The girls who slept with him would brag about how good he was. Heeseung, the sweet guy he is, was the sweetest in bed. And as much as it tarnishes your self worth and disregards the deep feelings you have, you didn’t mind the idea of being his just for one night, let alone a few hours.
You just wanted to be one of his girls.
You slammed your locker closed and was met with Heeseung who had a sly grin on his face.
“So, should I take you to my place tonight? Or do you prefer if I take you on a date first?”
You haven’t talked to him in a week and there was no doubt that he heard about the rumors — the rumors that he had no idea were true.
“What are you talking about?” You said with a hint of defensiveness. You quickly softened your expression to make up for your attitude, you were just tired of everyone talking about you.
“Nothing,” Heeseung shook his head, “I’m just teasing you. I heard what people are saying.”
“None of it is true,” You lied.
He let out a low laugh, which caused your heart to drop in fear. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they were.”
You gently push his shoulder and Heeseung quickly gets rid of the smirk on his face. “Stop joking around, a lot of people are already on my ass about it. And everyone knows you have a different girl in your bed every week, it just makes me seem twice as desperate.” You playfully say, taking the situation less seriously as Heeseung is.
You watched as his gaze fell to the floor. Were you wrong to bring up his reputation?
Heeseung scratched his head before meeting your eyes, “It’s just rumors and they will go away soon,” he spoke matter-of-factly.
“I’ll see you tonight at the bonfire?”
You scoff and shake your head. “I probably won’t go anymore because of what people are saying.”
He notices hurt evident on your face, but he smiles anyway. “If the rumors aren’t true then don’t let it bother you,” he takes a step closer and you start to feel your heart pound. “I’ll try to find out who started it, but I better see you tonight.”
At that he leaves, and there it was, the feeling of butterflies floating around in your stomach. His assurance makes you feel better.
It was impossible to hide how widely you smiled and how heated your cheeks felt. He was just being a kind and caring friend, yet it was impossible not to fall for him.
Bonfires were held by the school to celebrate the wins of the basketball team. You always had a great time hanging out with your friends, meeting new people, and supporting the team. Though, it also wasn’t fun to always watch the team captain stick his tongue down someone’s throat and completely disappearing before the night ended.
You decided to attend the one held tonight, although things would be different. There will be people who are constantly going to talk about you or maybe even say things directly to your face.
On the way to the bonfire, you thought about the last words Heeseung said to you at school before he left your locker. These stupid remarks that people are saying will eventually go away. But you still had no idea who would start these rumors.
You thought that you hid your feelings pretty well by not telling anyone, not even your closest friends. Maybe you were just too obvious.
“What if someone humiliates me tonight?” You walked down the beach with Hana, having a churned feeling in your gut.
“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Hana softly says while wrapping a blanket around you. “The boys will literally kick someone’s ass, you know how protective they are of you.”
You thank Hana for helping you ease up. You let go of your uneasy thoughts, Heeseung is expecting to see you which matters right now.
“You guys made it,” Jake got up from his seat to hug you and Hana. You look around and take in your surroundings. There were more people than you expected. Sunghoon and Jay were sitting down around the campfire along with a few students from school that you recognized.
Noticing that Heeseung wasn’t here, you press your lips in a small frown, already thinking about the worst of where he may be.
“Where’s Heeseung? Did he already leave with someone tonight?” You ask Jake in a playful manner, preparing your disappointment if he already had disappeared with someone else.
“No,” Jake laughed, “The basketball team snuck in booze so he’s helping with that. He’ll be back.”
You nod and try to hide the evident sigh of relief that was let out. “Forget that I asked,” you laughed before going around the campfire to greet Sunghoon and Jay.
“Are you okay?” Jay asked. “I’m fine, I’m just gonna hang for now and probably get a drink later,” you said, taking a seat in an empty space. You recognize the person sitting to the left of you, he was definitely a player of the basketball team.
“Hey, aren’t you suppose to help-“
“Have you fucked the captain yet?”
You heard the boy say as his lips turn into a sneer, and you started to chuckle nervously, the question catching you off-guard but it was expected right? You and your obsession with Heeseung was the talk of the town this week.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” You groaned out. Before the boy could answer, he was lightly smacked in the head. “Hey, leave her alone,” announced a familiar voice from behind you.
It was Heeseung with an agitated look on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel your lips slightly upturn into a grin. You watched as Heeseung took a seat, separating you and his teammate.
The action made your heart warm.
“When did you get here?” The irritated look on his face changed as he smiled fondly.
“I just got here with Hana.”
Heeseung nods before initiating small tension of silence. You notice him carefully bringing his stare to you. It was as if he using his eyes to trace every detail on your face and this freaked you out.
“Is there something on my face?” You questioned anxiously, hoping that you didn’t actually have anything on your face because it would be embarrassing, especially in front of your crush that you’re trying to impress.
Heeseung shook his head and chuckled. “No, I’m just glad you’re here,” he softly said.
A shit eating grin appeared from his response and you were flustered, your face possibly super red.
“Am I missing something?” You giggled, in disbelief of the words coming out of his mouth.
You were happy to know that he’s glad to see you, you actually wanted to scream, but you were also a bit confused on why he suddenly felt this way.
He was a fuckboy and this was probably his way of taking his girls to bed, not that you minded because this is what you want — a chance to be his for one night, but something felt off.
“All of a sudden you’re happy to be around me,” you lightly shrugged while taking a moment to get lost in his wide eyes, “What’s going on?”
His throat bobbled before he forced out a laugh, “Nothing’s going on. I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay after what people are saying.”
You didn’t know why, but you had a hard time believing him. You had a feeling that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Thank you-“
“We’re gonna play truth or drink.”
You drew your attention away from Heeseung when Hana was in front of you.
“I’ll pass,” you tell her.
Hana crosses her arms and pouts, “Just play for one round then you can go back to- whatever,” she turned her gaze to Heeseung who was awfully sitting closer than you remember. Hana notices the close proximity but doesn’t comment on it, instead, she’s waiting for you to answer.
“Why are we playing truth or drink?”
Hana grins, “The boys suggested it because they’re bored and the booze hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“Fine, but just one round,” you warn.
Hana happily takes a seat next to you with Heeseung still on your left. You watch your friends and a few familiar people around the campfire get comfortable before the game starts.
“Heeseung,” Sunghoon managed to get everyone’s attention, “Can I ask you first?”
You turn to face Heeseung who swallowed as he sat up to unintentionally fix his posture. “Sure,” he said without hesitation.
“Alright, let me think,” Sunghoon muttered.
“When was the last time you slept with someone?” There was a hint of tease in his voice.
Heeseung eyes got a bit wider while the question caused the others to ‘ooh’ like children. You, however, felt your stomach twist. You were curious, but also didn’t need a reminder that the guy you have feelings for is sleeping around with most of the girls at school but you.
You feel your brows furrow when Heeseung locked eyes with you for a moment before he finally spoke out his answer. “A month ago.”
You tried to give out a quiet laugh, but Heeseung heard and quizzically tilted his head at your reaction. “You’re lying,” you murmured.
Heeseung peered intently at you, he was taken aback. “It’s the truth,” he cleared his throat.
You almost feel bad, but you skeptically stared at him, “I have a hard time believing that.”
His expression turned into a more serious one, and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you. Have you struck a nerve?
“I’m sorry,” you said as he went silent, “It’s just hard to believe that the biggest fuckboy at school would go a month without sex.”
You and the others who heard everything shared a look as Heeseung snickered. You turned to face him and this time he was closer. There was an uncomfortable closeness. He was intimidating, and you felt your breath hitch, regretting the words that came out of your mouth.
“How many times are you gonna mention me being a ‘fuckboy’ and the girls in my bed?” The change of tone in his voice was almost scary.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” You shake your head and try to apologize. You acted out of jealously and bitterness. “Heeseung-“
“I answered. Who’s turn is it?” he interjected while looking around to continue the game. Thankfully, no one made a single comment to what was heard. Jake proceeded with the game by asking the girl next to him a question.
You cursed under your breath knowing that it was wrong to not believe Heeseung’s answer and to bring up his reputation about his sex life. Not wanting things to be weird, you attempt to apologize again but was met with hard silence.
After a moment of listening to your friends play the game that you forgot was occurring, Heeseung finally looks back at you and there was something in his gaze you had never seen.
“Are you jealous because you want to fuck me?” He mutters lowly for only you to hear.
You freeze completely.
The intensity in his stare and the sensual tone in his voice made you feel something that you have never felt before when he spoke to you.
“T-that’s not true,” you stuttered, trying to ignore how hot your ears and cheeks felt.
You felt as if you were caught and the truth of yours was finally going to come out. You weren’t ready to tell Heeseung about your feelings, you weren’t even sure if you’re going to confess.
“I know,” Heeseung softly lets out with a quick change of expression. He grins, noticing your flushed face. “I’m sorry, it was just a joke. I just like seeing you flustered,” he admits.
You playfully push his shoulder just as you did when he was at your locker earlier today. You let out a huge sigh of content that he wasn’t super pissed about the comments you made. But why was he always playing around with you?
“Y/N, your turn.” Someone from your class blurted out which caused your head to shoot up.
“What’s your question?” You uttered.
Your classmate took a pause to think of a suitable question to ask. “Are you currently seeing or dating anyone?” They finally spoke.
“I am not,” you said easily.
“That’s good to know,” a voice said and you swore it came from the left of you, but you weren’t certain. Suddenly, you notice everyone looking at the boy next to Heeseung, the one who spoke to you earlier, with faces of terror.
“What did you say?” You asked the basketball player with a slight anxious tone to your voice.
Along with everyone around the campfire, Heeseung had his eyes glued to his teammate.
“I said that it’s good to know you’re single,” He said with an exasperated voice.
The comment made you feel a bit irked, but your focus was on everyone whispering and some even laughing before they quickly moved on.
“She’s lying,” you heard another sudden voice blurt out. This time, the voice sounded clear and close. “She’s taken by me,” Heeseung declared, not sparing you a glance.
“What?” You exclaimed, feeling your heart beat rapidly to the point that you didn’t notice Hana trying to speak to you. “Heeseung, stop,” you urged, knowing that he was playing around again.
Heeseung ignored you and instead, nodded his head, “We’ve been dating for awhile now.”
“Stop fucking around again, it’s not funny,” You pleaded while grabbing onto his arm to get his attention. He finally met your eye contact but kept going with his act by appearing to be upset.
“Baby, come on.” He whined out, practically begging with his big doe eyes.
You would usually feel the butterflies in your stomach, but this was different. You started to wonder why he treated everything as a joke. And it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t aware of your feelings, but he was really torturing you.
“Is that why you made up those rumors?”
Heeseung glanced over your head as your eyes widened at the sudden statement. You turned around and surprise crossed Jake’s face.
“You made things up to soft launch your relationship?” Jake continued, directly speaking to Heeseung.
You take a second to process Jake’s words and the look Heeseung gave him. All you can do is inquisitively raise your brow at Heeseung, while trying to get rid of the huge lump in your throat.
“What is he saying?” You softly asked, trying to ignore the heavily feeling in your chest. Heeseung opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it.
“You made up those rumors?” You raised your voice, trying to get an answer out of him, but there was nothing so you get up from your seat and stand before him.
“Do you know how many people at school have humiliated me?” You choked out as the realization hits you. You were betrayed by your own friend who happened to be the one guy that you have intense feelings for. “Why did you do it?”
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Heeseung stands and attempts to hold your arm but you quickly pull away.
You shook your head fervently, “That’s all you have to say? Why are you doing this to me?”
Lee Heeseung always gave you a sense of what heartbreak felt like. The way most girls had a taste of him and how he betrayed you.
Was it wrong to not believe that he was hurting you? Maybe you were obsessed with him.
“I’ll bring you home,” Hana reaches out for your hand and leads the way to the car, both of you leaving the bonfire after saying quick goodbyes to your confused friends. You felt humiliated enough and just wanted to go home.
You hear Heeseung practically chasing after you, “Wait,” he pleads, voice cracking lowly.
“Why did you do it?” You let out, blinking back incoming tears because you weren’t going to cry.
“You’re always fucking around with me and I didn’t do shit to you,” the pain in your voice was so evident that Heeseung shook his head, an array of emotions flurrying across his face.
“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” he gently said.
As much as it hurts, you said nothing and got inside the car, leaving Heeseung feeling like complete shit. You repeatedly asked the same question, yet it was always dodged. To you, it wasn’t worth to fight for an answer anymore.
On the way home you confessed to Hana about your crush. She wasn’t all that surprised because yeah, you were just too obvious about it.
Now you were in bed, trying to forget all that is Lee Heeseung, but it was too damn hard. Your stupid crush as you call it, felt more than a simple crush. That invisible pull he had on you was too strong and it seemed impossible to move on.
You wonder if he were ever going to apologize, were you going to forgive him quickly?
The thought of moving on continued until you felt your eyes closed and drifted to sleep. But suddenly, you heard a few taps on the window which caused your eyes to snap open.
Surprised and super tense, you ran to your window and hesitatingly open your blinds to reveal Heeseung standing outside on your balcony. He had that same look on his face when didn’t spare him a chance to speak before getting inside the car. You open your window to let him in, praying that you weren't loud enough to wake your parents up who were asleep down the hall.
“You scared me,” you whispered, watching him enter your room through the window with ease. You quickly cross your arms, feeling a bit exposed in just silk pajama pants and a tank top.
“What are you doing here?” You panic as he scans your room. “My parents are sleeping and-“
“I’m sorry I made up those rumors,” he interrupts, face dropping in hurt as he stands before you. You narrowed your eyes at him, realizing how close he was standing. It was difficult to keep your heart steady, you didn’t even have time to process that Lee Heeseung was in your room.
“Why did you do it?” You ask the same question once more, hoping he answers this time.
“I did it because I wanted your attention,” his throat bobbles. “It’s actually really fucking stupid,” Heeseung sighs hard as you attentively listen, not fully understanding his words.
“I like you a lot and I thought that these rumors would bring us closer together,” he confesses. “It’s so stupid, I don’t know why I thought that.”
Your breath hitches as your arms drop. This new information is hitting you with surprise, causing you to take a tentative step forward, “You like me?” You couldn’t believe him.
Heeseung nods, “I’ve liked you for a while,” he huffs and glances away. “I started sleeping around to distract myself from you, and I tried getting rid of my feelings because I knew you wouldn’t like me back,” a laugh was let out.
Your mouth falls open, but you were speechless. The boy you’re practically in love with is reciprocating his feelings and he left you momentarily stunned as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through your veins.
“Heeseung,” you shake your head, having a difficult time comprehending what you’ve heard.
“Wait,” he brings both hands to each of your bare shoulders. “It’s true that I’ve stopped seeing other girls. Whenever I was with them I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he pauses and grins for a moment, “So I had to stop.”
“You sound insane right now,” you let out without thought and he sighed with a nod, “And you made me look like a fool and an obsessive freak.”
He nodded again while removing his hands, “I know and I’m really sorry for doing that to you. And I’m sorry for what I pulled at the bonfire, it was wrong to lie like that in front of everyone.”
You crossed your arms, “The rumors you said-“
“What I said about you was fucked up.”
A frown fell upon him as you stare into his eyes. You knew he was genuine with his words — he wouldn’t have snuck into your room and risk getting you both caught if he wasn’t.
You slowly step forward, cupping his face with a hand and taking the chance to finally close the gap between you two, capturing his lips in a kiss. You heard him let out a gasp when he felt your lips on his. Heeseung easily melts into you while returning your kiss, and you can’t help but smile, finally kissing him after wanting him for so long.
You were the first one to pull away when air became necessary, “What you said was all true.”
He furrowed his brows, unable to find words to say anything. The redness of his ears makes you giggle, it was cute to see how shy he was.
“I like you too and I thought about being with you,” you interlock your hand with his, never leaving his gaze. “I thought about it a lot actually,” you remove the hair in your face, “Whenever I heard that you were with someone else.”
Heeseung tried to gather the courage to speak. According to his words, he’d never thought that you would feel the same way. To express what he was feeling inside, he brought his lips to yours for a quick kiss before pulling away.
“What fantasies do you have of me?”
The question causes you to hide your face in embarrassment, but Heeseung quickly removes your hands, regretting his pestering remark.
“I’m truly sorry, I’ll make sure people at school will stop talking about you. I did something very shitty and you don’t deserve it,” he admits.
“I forgive you,” you bury your face in Heeseung’s shoulder, “Only because I’m an obsessed freak.” You joke hastily causing him to chuckle fondly.
After a moment of being in each other’s embrace, you stare into his vulnerable eyes, allowing yourself to act on your feelings. “I want to be yours. I always have,” you beamed.
Heeseung understands quickly, because he also has always wanted to be yours. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips against yours softly.
He kissed you gently and slow, until he’s suddenly attacking your lips, and you feel both of his large hands cupping your small face. He licks your bottom lip for permission to shove his tongue inside your mouth and you accept, both of you fighting for dominance. It was like a reflex with the way you grabbed onto his hair.
You felt his hand slip under your tank top and he grabs your breast, kneading it gently. A loud exhale leaves your mouth, his touch igniting you.
Heeseung quickly broke away from you and nuzzled your temple before taking a deep breath then sighing, “We don’t have to go all the way.”
“Lee Heeseung turning down sex?” You tease him and he laughs before kissing you once more.
“I didn’t come here expecting something to happen. You’re special to me.”
His declaration makes your hurt flutter and creates an uncomfortable feeling between your legs. “I want you,” you tell him.
Heeseung freezes.
“Have you done it before?” He takes your hand.
You hesitate before shaking your head, “I’ve did other things before, but I’ve never gone all the way with someone.”
Your response makes him pause.
“Then it shouldn’t be with me,” he says before withdrawing his touch and taking a step back.
You grab his arm, refusing him to walk away, “Hey, I want it to be with you. I don’t care about how many other girls you’ve had, that’s not important,” you tell him. “Heeseung, please.”
It felt like a long time waiting for him to say something. Finally, he speaks up, “If we do this then I want you to tell me to stop when you want me to,” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
“Okay,” You nod your head accordingly.
“But we can’t be too loud, your parents are down the hall,” he amusingly smiles.
You nod your head one more time as he searches for any last signs of you wanting to back out. His hot breath fanned on your face as you pull him closer by his shirt.
He leans further down to press a trail of kisses against your jaw as you take a deep breath before tugging at the end of his shirt while his hand slides under yours, cupping your breast firmly this time. Heeseung removes his shirt, revealing his exposed chest as you take off yours.
You watch him take a step back to admire you, which leaves your face flushed with heat.
“You’re perfect,” he says, and all you could do is smile because you notice the tent in his pants.
Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and shoves his tongue back inside your mouth. You rub your thighs together feeling yourself getting soaked, you wanted to feel him already.
When you wrap your arms around his shoulders, you can’t help the way your body reacts to him as you attempt to rub yourself against him.
Heeseung notices this and instead of letting you continue, he slides a hand inside your pants and between your legs to spread your slick while also pressing the heel of his palm on your clit.
“That feels good,” you groan out, still attempting to press against him. When you succeed, a small grunt leaves his lips. “Does it?” He says coyly while curling his long fingers inside you.
You don’t answer him and it’s because he’s hitting your sweet spot, making you unable to speak. He fastens his pace and you feel your orgasm approaching, “H-Heeseung, I’m so close,”
He relentlessly rubs circles around your clit, reveling in the pretty noises coming out of your mouth. You feel your thighs shaking as you continue grinding against him, and it was becoming too much until you let out your release, holding onto his biceps to steady yourself.
After retracting his fingers and wiping them clean on his pants, Heeseung easily picks you up from off the ground and props you on your bed. He grabs the band of your pants to pull them down before quickly slipping off your panties. You impatiently lay there, waiting for him to undress.
He starts to strip off his pants by unbuttoning the buttons, his boxers followed by it. The sight of his cock leaking with precum caused your eyes to widen. He was pretty, prettier from what you’ve seen before, and you can’t help but feel nervous as to how he was going to fit inside you.
But you trust him and give him a nod to continue because you want this so bad. Heeseung started to stroke himself, and with the copious amount of precum, he was able to glide up and down with ease. The view of Lee Heeseung looking gorgeous on your bed while naked leaves you breathless.
“Shit,” he lets out a panic grunt.
You sit up and notice the worried look on his face, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry baby, I-I don’t have a condom,” he mutters, and by the tone in his voice, you could tell that he was freaking out. “I have one in the car, I could run to get it really quick.”
You think about it for a second before shaking your head. Although a condom would be the safest choice, you don’t want him to get dressed just to undress again. Your parents were still in the house, and you were afraid that he’d get caught sneaking back inside.
You also wanted him now, you weren’t sure if you could wait much longer. “You can just pull out,” you suggest and he immediately refuses.
“It’s okay, I trust you.”
“Are you sure? I don’t have a problem getting it.”
You reach for his hand and give it a tight squeeze before nodding, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Unless you aren’t?” You continue.
Heeseung shakes his head, “No, I’m sure. I want you too, very badly, but I want you to feel safe.”
You lay back down while pulling Heeseung until he’s hovered over you. “I trust you, Hee. It’s fine.”
Heeseung merely tilts his head and lets his smile deepen as he removes the hair in your face to see you clearly. He kisses the side of your mouth then your lips before taking his throbbing length to slowly slide inside you.
With his precum and your dripping core, he is able to slide in easily, but he deliberately takes a slow amount of time, not wanting to hurt you. Your hands desperately grabbed at his bare shoulders, digging your nails in as he slides in deeper. You feel full when he’s only halfway in, and as much as you wanted to him to bottom you out and fuck you relentlessly, it did hurt a bit.
“I’m sorry,” he halts and completely slips out, feeling you slightly shift and noticing the uncomfortable look on your face.
“No,” you grab him by the arm, “Don’t stop.”
Heeseung obliges, lining his cock up with your entrance and gently easing the tip inside. He inched inside deeper and your walls squeezed when inviting him in. Heeseung fully inserted himself into you, causing you to cling onto him and let out a loud whine. He allowed you to adjust as he stretched you out and the feeling felt better than just fingers, you were already addicted.
He grabbed your thighs and grinded himself upwards, placing his dick so deep inside you. Heeseung grit his teeth attempting to hold back his sounds before planting a weak kiss on your lips, never feeling like this with anyone else.
“Does it feel good?” He whimpers, gradually increasing his pace when thrusting inside you.
All he got as a response was moan and he chuckled, finding it cute. You were enthralled, feeling his movements become faster, more ragged and desperate. “It feels- so good.”
Heeseung was watching you with lustful eyes as you took his cock in ecstasy. Your lips met, exchanging warm breaths and loud moans into each other’s mouths as it echoed inside your room. “You feel good, perfectly made for me.”
“I’m glad it’s with you,” You accidentally let out, trying to contain your moan. After hearing your words, he groaned and firmed your hips closer. You feel him increasing his pace, hitting your spot as he slid in and out of you, almost tipping you over the edge. “Heeseung-“ You began.
He lets out a soft grunt before slyly sneaking a hand down to graze your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut and clench hard, his words and warm touch helping you to approach your release.
“Hee, I’m close,” you cry out. He continues thrusting sensually, causing loud sounds to leave both of your mouths at the sensation.
Simultaneously, you both cover each other’s mouths restricting the loud noises so that you wouldn’t wake your parents up. And you release just like that, moaning into Heeseung’s hand.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, “You’re perfect.”
You were dizzy and disoriented, barely making out the words that left his lips as he slows down his rhythm, still fast enough to chase his own release. “I’m gonna cum,” he whined, his fingers gripping your hips almost painfully.
His touch felt amazing and you were vaguely aware of Heeseung pulling out just in time. You groaned, watching as he gasped himself in his fist, pumping himself over your stomach as he painted you with his seed.
His weight gently pushed you flat against the mattress, his puddle of cum sticking on the both of you as you both shook from the intensity of your orgasms. Heeseung pressed small kisses to your shoulders before getting up from your bed and picking up his shirt to clean you.
“Are you okay?” Heeseung asked before rolling to lay next to you. “Does it hurt?”
You shook your head, “It was perfect,” you then plant a small kiss on his lips while removing a piece of his hair that stuck to his forehead.
“You were very sweet with me.”
“I told you that you’re special to me,” he replies, pressing his lips against your forehead.
The corners of your mouth upturned into a huge smile, the butterflies in your stomach were floating around as if they didn’t leave. But in a matter of a quick second, your body language changes into a more stern and stiff manner.
“What’s wrong?” His voice trembled in concern.
A sudden feeling of insecurity hit. Heeseung knew how to make you feel good, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before and a reason might be because he is experienced, but you wonder if you were able to satisfy him — to make him feel good.
“You were so perfect, I don’t know if you could say the same,” you drop your head in defeat. “I’m sorry if it didn’t feel good to you-“
“Baby, stop talking,” he urges.
“You said that you don’t care about how many girls I’ve been with,” he reiterates. “I don’t care if you’re experienced or not, it was perfect because it was with you. I want to be with you.”
You could feel your voice caught in your throat. The look in his eyes as he declared his words made your heart pound hard in your chest. It feels unreal to finally win over your crush of how many long tumultuous years. After everything, you wonder how lucky you got with him.
And Heeseung was thinking the same thing. He felt lucky to be with you after all of his fuck ups, he was obsessed with you too.
“You’re with me,” you tell him.
“Okay then,” he looks satisfied, “You’re my girl.”
© fairyofhee 2023.
note — thank you for reading! please leave any thoughts or comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!
#enhypen fic#enhypen smut#enhypen hard headcanons#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#heeseung hard hours#heeseung smut#heeseung hard thoughts#heeseung angst#kpop smut#kpop fic#heeseung fic
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SEASONS
⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)
⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda
⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?
author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞
“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”
“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”
“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”
you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”
“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”
you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.
heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.
“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.
“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”
your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.
“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”
you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.
yn on top☝️
be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw
nishishi
ok.
yn on top ☝️
dry ass
“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.
“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.
he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”
“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.
“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”
“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”
“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”
“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”
turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.
“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”
“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.
“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”
you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.
“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.
“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”
“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”
riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.
“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.
although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.
“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”
you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”
you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.
“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.
“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.
“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”
he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.
“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”
“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”
your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”
“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”
“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”
“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”
“really?”
“like you.”
before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.
“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”
sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.
“see you soon little lee.”
“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”
“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”
you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.
“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”
you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.
“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”
riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”
although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.
“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”
the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.
although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.
“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”
“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”
“great, so are my dancer friends!”
the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.
“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”
“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.
“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”
it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.
overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”
he blinks.
“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”
the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.
“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”
park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.
“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.
“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”
you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.
“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”
“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”
now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.
“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.
“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”
you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.
“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”
“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”
sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”
you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.
the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.
“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.
“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”
“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”
his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.
“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.
it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.
“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”
you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.
“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.
“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.
“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”
you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.
“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”
“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”
“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”
you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.
“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”
“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.
“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”
your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.
“really? even after last night?”
“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”
you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.
and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.
“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.
“hey.”
“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”
“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”
“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”
“sunghoon, i like you too.”
he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”
“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”
his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”
“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”
“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”
“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”
he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.
“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”
park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.
“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”
“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.
“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”
#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fic#enhypen fluff#enhypen texts#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen ff#enhypen angst#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x y/n#sunghoon x you#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon angst#sunghoon fanfic#niki x reader#niki imagines
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FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader
Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.
Word count: 3.9k.
Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.
Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!
☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
GEN MASTERLIST!
It's harder to stay...
Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.
The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.
Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.
"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.
Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"
The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.
"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.
"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.
"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.
During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.
"So it's personal..."
"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.
"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
2029, Sacred Timeline
When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.
But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.
You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.
At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.
Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.
He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.
So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.
Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.
Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.
The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.
"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.
You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.
"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.
All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."
"Loki, I saw you die..."
Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.
"I know you did, my love."
You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.
And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.
"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.
You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"
Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.
"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."
"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."
"What?" you mumbled.
Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?
"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.
Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"
He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."
You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.
"Your death was supposed to be then?"
"Yes, it was."
"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.
Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.
Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.
"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"
"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.
You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."
Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"
"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."
"Or you could do both."
"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."
"It's not your fault."
"I know, Loki."
"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."
You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."
Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.
You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.
"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."
He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."
"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."
"No,I can't-"
"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."
Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.
"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."
And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."
Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.
When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.
"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.
Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."
His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.
You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."
"Thank you, love."
Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.
"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.
"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.
So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.
Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.
"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.
"I love you too."
Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.
The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.
So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.
He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.
Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.
At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.
"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."
"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.
"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.
"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.
"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."
And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.
You were right. Mobius was a good friend.
#loki x reader#loki x female reader#tva loki x reader#tva loki x female reader#tva!loki x reader#loki imagines#loki angst#loki laufesyon x reader#loki series fanfiction#loki season 2#mcu loki x reader#mcu loki#loki series
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶What was meant to be a quiet evening of DND gets out of hand before it even begins, and when the guys leave a bottle of whiskey behind, all those passes you and Eddie made at each other grow to a new level.✶
NSFW — slow burn, fluff, drunken yearning, drunken flirting, dirty jokes, sexual tension, failed phone sex, light angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut
obi-wan voice: this isn't the first kiss chapter you're looking for (it's in the next one)
chapter: 9/20 [wc: 23.8k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12
AO3
Chapter 9: Dungeons & Dragons & Unicorns, oh my!
Occupying the narrow space available in Mr. Moore’s cramped office, Carl exchanged a look with Kevin over the edge of his coffee mug as he tipped it back, and coasted the bitter liquid across his tongue, swallowing with trouble. He winced at the potency. Kevin gave him an apologetic grimace.
“You made this too strong,” Carl whispered.
Kevin took a sip as well, and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, admonishing his mistake of putting too many grounds in the machine. “She just makes it better.”
David hunched forward in his plush leather chair. Around him, filing cabinets were open, sticky notes reminders hung crooked on the drawers, and his desk was stacked with customer’s invoices.
Three days you’d been gone and the world had devolved into chaos.
“Yeah, gotcha,” David said into the phone crooked between his shoulder and ear, jotting down an unrelated note on the corner of an envelope. “You feel better soon, ya hear?” He threw an excessive eye roll onto the end of his sentence when the voice on the other end kept rattling off. “I told ya to stop worryin’ about it. Now, get some rest. Yeah. Bye.”
He hung up, and addressed his audience waiting on bated breath, “Ed’s callin’ in sick again.”
“Third day in a row,” Carl commented.
Kevin gestured at the state of the office with his mug. “Third day for her too.” David muttered an acknowledgement, missing his Office Administrator who had taken up the responsibility of organizing all the documents into their rightful place.
“Three days, huh? And both with the flu?” Kevin restated in a leading tone.
“Both with the flu,” David confirmed.
“Not suspicious at all,” Carl added.
In unison, the three men put their mugs to their lips, sipped the coffee, winced, and made noises of disgust.
But after all that, Kevin beamed at his friends. “Good for them,” he said. “Ed deserves someone like her.”
In unison, they agreed, and sipped, and made a pact to dump out their mugs in the sink.
————
You arrived to work with an unglamorous wad of tissue balled in your fist, and a raw nose. Lingering sniffles ailed you, as did the body lethargy, but you were no longer contagious. It sucked to exist in this head-cold sphere, but it was nice to leave the house after days spent in-and-out of a Nyquil daze.
And yes, you were eager to see Eddie again, despite the twist of dread in your stomach.
It’d been days since you left his place on a good note, but would the remnants of his tears be this weird unstated suspense in between breaths of conversation? Would there be an underlying presence of you know all the intimate details of my life in the otherwise cheerful morning greeting? Would things go back to normal as if nothing happened?
Regardless, the morning greeting would have to wait. There were a million things to do around the auto shop since you’d been absent; first of which was going into Mr. Moore’s office, and fighting the disarray to find his updated schedule detailing his upcoming meetings, lunches, and days he’d be out of town. You grabbed a marker and went to work on the calendar in the garage, transcribing the schedule for the guys to see so they could stop asking you if Mr. Moore was in his office or not (especially when his door was right there and they could check for themselves).
Crossing out the first week of January, you began to write down one of the meetings when the back door was thrown open, and an ominous death knell tolled in a jangle of chains and heavy boots, making a veritable effort to stomp as loudly as possible on their way to you.
The eagerness disappeared. Only tumultuous dread now.
Your delicate smile was replaced by a canvas of annoyance. “Why are you so loud?” you winced. And winced again when you heard your stuffed-up voice.
You didn’t have to look away from the note you were jotting down to see his impish grin. He practically forced you to see it when he folded his arms, and imposed his shoulder on the wall, making the calendar page slip under your marker in a long red streak.
He ducked his head to catch your eye. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I’m walking as I always do; not a hop, skip, or bounce extra.” Eddie’s tight lips parted in your periphery, showing a gleam of teeth. Raising his voice a tick, he drove the dread deeper, “My girl isn’t flinching at every sound because she has a headache, right?”
Having no sense of self restraint, nor manners, Eddie invaded more of your personal space. His chest swelled with a held breath while his tongue prepared a taunt and his eyes squinched half-closed. “It couldn’t be because you’re sick, right? Not Miss Queen of the City who’s been coughed on by every germ out there, making her tougher than the common cold, hmm? Couldn’t be because of that?”
Capping the marker, you let your side-eye graduate to a full fledged incredulous stare at his much-too-giddy expression. “It’s allergies,” you said, crumpling the tissue into your pocket.
“Allergies, huh? Which ones?”
“The ones I’m allergic to.”
“Interesting, interesting,” he humored you, “very interesting since, y’know, the most common allergies people have around here are to grass and weed pollen, and those suckers are dead and buried under a layer of snow. Won’t be growing for quite some months, so..”
You glared at his need to follow up that observation with his lips pursed into a mocking kiss of arrogance, provoking you to fold while simultaneously flaunting the sharp cut of his cheekbones.
“Fine,” you admitted in a low tone. “I got sick.” Noting the heavy bags under his red-rimmed eyes, you quirked an eyebrow, and asked, “Have you been working overtime without me?”
He brightened. “Oh, no. Adrie got me sick too. This is my first day back.”
“Have I ever told you how so,” you paused for emphasis, and prodded the pen cap into his sternum, “so very irritating you are?” He cupped his hand over your wrist, and cradled your fist to his chest. Drawing you in, in, in. Cold seeping through your sleeve from his red fingers, never kicking his habit of smoking before coming inside, regardless of the weather. “Just the worst,” you admonished, finding it difficult to resist the magnetism of his laughter quaking under your palm, urging yourself to favor the adorable scrunch above his nose, and guide your thoughts away from his unzipped leather jacket.
But the draw was too strong. You swayed closer until your forearm was pressed to the dragon tattoo hidden beneath his coveralls, and your tennis shoe grazed past the tip of his metal-toed boot
He recalled, “That’s weird. I remember you saying I was your favorite.”
“I said you were my favorite date. As far as people go, you’re in my top three. Robin, Adrie, you,” you listed on the fingers trapped against his inhale.
He lifted his chin, regarding you down the slope of his magnificent nose. “You rank Adrie above me?”
“Well, think about it this way; you rank above all the other people I’ve met. And I’ve met a lot of people, you know.”
“That isn’t instilling a lot of confidence, babe.”
Sweetheart. Babe. My girl. His hand on your hand. His cold fingers cupping your palm, searing you despite their lack of heat; so different from how you came to know them, as hesitant pauses on his tools when you greeted him and he frowned as if to ask why you were speaking to him.
Was this it? Was this the new normal?
You hoped so.
Cheeks warmed by the multitude of pet names, you put an edge of dissatisfaction on your question to cover how his affections affected you, “Is that my job? To make you feel good about yourself?” Hotter, hotter. His intensity was burning you.
You wiggled the marker in your grasp until you could tap it at the second unfastened button on his coveralls. “I think you just keep me around so you have someone to call you handsome.”
“No way,” he said. He tilted his head to the side, resting it on the wall. His tangly mess of hair followed the movement, laying against his throat. “But.. Just for clarification, I am handsome, right?”
“Of course you’re handsome.”
“Aw, you flatter me, gorgeous,” he said in mock bashfulness, turning his face away while you stared at him in utter exasperation. “Love to hear it from my favorite.”
Gorgeous. Love. Favorite.
You didn’t question his favorite what. Person, place, or thing? Who knows. Words escaped you when the honey in his eyes twinkled with something tender, and his dopey smile softened at the edges, and his heart pounded a story against your touch, and his grin faded more, and his lips regained their pretty pink plumpness, and his voice reached deeper–to the place where your hand felt the creation of vibrations–and his tongue put a new spin on a sentiment as old as time.
“I missed you,” he said, features going lax as he dropped the overly flirtatious act. He let go of your fist to reach out and pinch your upper arm without an ounce of strength in his sweet teasing.
It took you an extra beat to withdraw your hand from his person.
You scoffed, “Uh-huh. I can tell by how you’re trying to butter me up, and annoy me to death at the same time.”
“Don’t tell me I’ve become the sunshine in our relationship now,” he snorted. And before he gave your stomach time to flutter at the word choice: relationship, he was stabbing his finger at the rumpled calendar.
He looked where he pointed, and dropped it down another Saturday. “I meant to ask you this before you left the other day, but we’re at a good spot in our DND campaign for a new person to join if you wanted to come. Sessions are a bitch to schedule now that we’re all adults and have lives, jobs, and responsibilities, and whatever, and I haven’t, uh, hosted one at my place in a while” –years– “so it’s kinda an extra special event, and would be cool if you wanted to come by.”
You wrung your mouth at the invitation.
“C’mon, I promise it’ll be fun.”
“I know it’s easy to assume I’m a giant loser like you, but even being a theater kid, I’ve never played DND,” you told him. “I don’t wanna ruin your game, or impose on your friends enjoying their night. Or, like, clash if we don’t get along, or somethin’.”
He cast his gaze wildly around the room. Extra dramatic. “You won’t ruin our game, and my friends will love you–they’re the rest of my band, and some kids who were in my club in high school. You’ll fit right in. And besides.. I want you to meet them.”
Delightful goosebumps tingled at your scalp. Meeting his friends was quite the step in your relationship. And no, mutual friends via Bobbie did not count.
You filled your lungs, and expelled your sigh at the calendar, reading over your penmanship while you thought it over.
“And maybe I didn’t phrase my question correctly. Let me try again.” He cleared his throat. “Will you play DND with us?”
Will you?
A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.
“Ah, taking that route,” you said. And just to mess with him, you tapped the marker on the tip of his nose. “Sure–yes–I’ll join you in your roleplaying game, but if they don’t like me, I told you so.”
“Why wouldn’t they like you?”
“I dunno, it took you weeks to speak to me.”
“Yeah, but I’m me.” Eddie shoved himself off the wall and began walking behind you, brushing his hand across your lower back, and bending to your ear to whisper a coy gloat, “And I play hard to get.”
All smiles, smiles, smiles. He took two bouncy steps backwards, opened the glass door in a wide swing and spun on his way inside, whipping his hair in a blur of brunette.
Bewildered by his dorky charm, you watched him through the windows, sighing out the air in your lungs to make room for the blossoming throbs of adoration when he caught his hip on the corner of your desk and tried walking off the pain in case you were watching, only for him to keel over right before he reached the hallway.
You shook your head and resumed where you were in Mr. Moore’s schedule. “You are absolutely not hard to get.”
Looking up, you found the day you were supposed to mark with an important phone meeting, and instead..
January 16th
DND
You drew stars around it, experiencing the childhood rush of endorphins that came from doodling hearts around your crush’s name in your yearbook, and giggling with your friends over it, betting you could get their number so you could call them over the summer, acutely aware none of you would ever dare.
————
Stress squeezed Eddie’s throat. Each cry, each sob, each sniffle set him on edge. His headache pounded, his chest clutched onto the calming breaths he was supposed to prioritize, his heart raced sweat to his skin. Everything was falling apart around him.
“Yeah–Yeah, no, it’s okay. Yeah.” He hung up the phone, chord swaying against the grimy wall, and he pressed his fists above his eyes, turning in a slow circle.
Whistling, screeching, wailing. The boiling kettle on the stovetop pierced the sound of Adrie’s hiccupy bawling. Growing louder, and louder. Rising above the blood pulsing in his ears, the twitch in his strained muscles. The anger under the surface, bubbling. A vice on his chest. Clenching his jaw. Gripping harder. Growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger, his emotions grew bigger until the frustration slipped.
Eddie snapped the stove knob to the off position, and jiggled the broken shitty plastic back on the dial. He moved the kettle to the back burner–sucking his bottom lip in and biting down hard, seeking the relief of pain to keep himself from slamming the kettle into the next dimension. And after swallowing the thickened saliva in his mouth, he walked away from what would’ve been his late, late oatmeal breakfast.
The trailer rattled less and less.
His heavy footsteps exhausted to his socks sliding across the vinyl.
“Adrie,” he begged her name again, and again as he knelt to her chair at the green table. He passed his hand over her hair, petting it away from the sticky streaks of tears on her red cheeks, and he cradled her head to his neck. The flash of anger was gone. It should’ve never seen the light of day, but he was human. He was a single person, and he tamed it the best he could. He was fragile, about to break at the next sob in his ear, but he tried. “Daddy’s gonna fix it, okay? I’ll make it better. I’ll make it better. Let Daddy make it better.”
He was stuck in the loop again. Where everything was so much, and he was so weak. Gathering her as if she were still small and could fit into the crook of his arm. “Let Daddy fix it,” he begged again, rocking her as he did all those years ago; for her, and for him, not having the capacity to do more than cry along with her.
Peeling himself away from her neediness, he worked his hoodie from her fists, and dialed his last resort.
It rang.
And rang.
Hopelessness burdened the expanse of shoulders, dropping them at the fourth trill. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, pick up.” The only thing helping calm him was his hand pressed over his eyes. One less stimulus.
Another ring. He was about to give up when–
“Hello?”
“Hey, man! Uh, uhm, what’re you up to?”
The casualness was lost when Steve’s pause elongated to a nasally noise of understanding when Adrie’s whine cut through the static, and Eddie’s cheek smashed to the receiver as he moved into the hallway, curling his frame to the phone like it were a lifeline.
Steve’s tone feathered to the same one he used five years ago when Eddie called frequently, “Is everything okay over there? Nancy and I were packing up the car to head out of town with the kids, but I have a minute. What’s up?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s okay, uh–hey, you have Robin’s number, right? For her parent’s place?”
His mood lightened, “Yeah, I think Nance does in her pocketbook. Nance!” He called out for her. Then, he spoke into the receiver, as gently as possible, with grace for him to deny if he wanted, “You’re not trying to call Robin, are you?”
“No.. No, I’m not.”
There was a stint of silence where neither of them broke the wordless understanding woven into their connection; phone, chord, wires, friendship.
At last, Nancy’s footsteps came in clicks on their hardwood flooring, and Steve expressed a soft, “I’m happy for you, man.”
Eddie didn’t correct him that it was about his game night. He simply let his friend’s praise fill the void. It’d been a long time since someone was proud of him.
————
The modest house near the empty plot of land was unassuming. Not much money was invested into the foundation, nor the many repairs, but oddly, it was the furniture and fine dinnerware passed through generations that would have anyone second guessing why a home with a cracked window from two summers ago had a china cabinet. And really, any gust during a storm could shatter the glass pane covered by a delicately orange curtain, but it hadn’t happened yet, and therefore, there was no need to fix it.
In the living room, the TV was too loud. In the kitchen, you closed the fridge with your foot and took the tea kettle off the stove, balancing the makings of a sandwich in your arms.
Eddie said to come over half an hour before everyone else so he could help you create your character sheet, and with it being 4PM, you had three hours before you were supposed to head out, and were spending the afternoon with Robin’s parents while she went to Vickie’s before her late night shift.
You placed two slices of bread on a plate when the phone rang.
From the other room, Robin’s dad answered, and his dry vocal chords carried an air of confusion, “Someone’s calling for you!”
“If they’re asking for bail, I’m not here,” you replied in a monotone voice, getting a butter knife out of the drawer.
There was a shuffle as he sat forward in his chair and inquired, wholeheartedly, “Are you asking for bail?” He waited for a reply while you continued to unscrew the cap to the peanut butter. “He says he’s not!”
“Mm.” Unconvinced this wasn’t one of your friends calling from a police station, you finished pouring the two cups of tea you were intending to make, put sugar into one, and carried them into the living room.
“He sounds like a nice young man,” he assured, adjusting the nasal cannulas higher on his upper lip before taking the cup from you.
Narrowing your eyes with wisdom beyond your years, you informed him, “They always do,” and placed the other tea on the end table between the recliner and couch for Robin’s mom to take whenever she wasn’t piecing together the answer for Wheel of Fortune and whispering it into the TV remote clutched to her face.
You took the phone from him and held it to your ear. “Yellow?”
There was a horribly sad sound on the other end.
“Hey! Hi! I, uhm, hey, it’s Eddie, I’m sorry for calling you, if that’s weird, but I’m–I’m going through a lot here”, he ended in a humorless laugh. “I-I-Adrie–So, look–Adrie, it’s okay, I’m fixing it–Adrie was on a playdate, and I don’t know, I think she got into a fight with her friend or something, and broke the toy they were playing with because she didn’t want to share, so she had to come home early, and now she’s upset because the playdate’s over, and the other girl’s toy broke, and–I already said that–but Steve and Nancy are going out of town, and I can’t find a babysitter last minute that will take her to their place, and Wayne’s out playing poker with his friends, and God, I–” He shifted, and you could tell by the fading whimpers that he moved down the hallway, and by the clack on the phone, it was his fingernails dragging along it as he scrubbed his hand over his face, desperate for someone else to come up with a solution. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m asking of you, but there’s going to be a bunch of guys drinking tonight, and I don’t want Adrie to be around that shit–”
“Eddie?” You didn’t mean to cut him off, but his panic was overwhelming you, and it was easier to concentrate on the one idea your brain latched onto without his input.
“..This is my only night I get to hang out with everyone,” he admitted in a whisper so shy you struggled to hear it. “I’m worried about her distracting me.”
You stared at the linen closet in the hallway to Robin’s bedroom. “I’ve got an idea, okay? Just hold on. I’ll be there in thirty.. maybe forty minutes. That okay?”
More movement sounded from the other end. You thought it was him hanging up without saying goodbye, but then you heard the sweetest thing.
“Miss Mouse is coming over,” he reassured Adrie, and the relief in his voice affected you in the worst way. Making you go all mushy when little Adrie’s hiccupy confirmation came from the depths of her face pressed to the base of his neck.
“M—ouse?”
“Mhmm.”
His hum filled your chest. Her noise of appreciation erupted goosebumps along your forearms. You were wanted–requested–and the square beads digging into your wrist had never felt closer to his, across town.
You addressed Eddie, “I’ve got a plan. Okay? I’ll be over soon.”
“Thank you,” he spoke into the receiver as you hung up.
The phone suspended on the hook in a weighty click. It bounced as you let it go, coil slipping from the table and falling to the floor. You asked your audience of two, “Is it okay if I leave early?”
“Of course you can, dear,” Robin’s dad answered, hoarse from the constant flow of oxygen drying out his throat.
“And can I borrow some of Bobbie’s old bedsheets?”
Her mom made a confused face, but agreed, “Whatever you want, sweet bean.”
–And thus, you had the catalyst for the second time you arrived on Edward Munson’s doorstep with your arms loaded with goodies–
He threw open the door with a dozen apologies stacked behind his teeth. “Hey. I’m sorry for calling you like that, she–”
The she in question came barreling out from behind him.
You dropped your knees to accept Adrienne. Discarding your overstuffed tote bag to hug her wholly; taking her into your arms, and consoling her with all the right words you prepared on your way over. “Hey, I heard you were having a rough day,” you said while tucking her into you tight. “You don’t have to be sad anymore. I’m here.”
Her cheeks had long since dried, but the whiny pitch to her voice teetered on the cusp of a sniffly cry Eddie had only eliminated minutes ago, after his speech about sharing. She mumbled against your puffer jacket, “You came to play wi’h me?”
“I sure did. And you know what? I brought you a surprise.” You flicked your gaze to Eddie to gauge his reaction, and your breath hitched at the beauty of his relief. Standing tall in the doorway over you and his daughter, taking a moment of peace with his eyes closed, mouth in a gentle line, and relaxation easing the near-permanent creases between his brows. The pleasure of a small break from parental duties affected him so physically, you could behold him for hours. Or tell him to go have a cigarette.
However, impatient as any four-year-old, Adrie wriggled in your arms for your attention, and asked what you brought.
Opening the tote, you took out patterned bedsheet after bedsheet. Stars, flowers, cowboys–as many as you could fit, and held them up. “Do you know what we’re gonna make with these?”
“A fort?” she asked, hopeful and bouncing with energy.
“A fort!” you repeated. “We’re gonna build a blanket fort! And I brought movies for you to–”
She grabbed the sheets and took off for her bedroom.
“Okie dokie.” You pushed yourself up from the concrete steps, and fanned out the rented VHSes like a deck of cards to show Eddie instead. “Sorry it took me so long, I stopped by Family Video on my way here. Has she seen these?”
He read the white clamshell packaging, and the dimple on his left cheek developed. “She has,” and before you could react, he pressed on with a reassurance, “but don’t underestimate how many times a kid can watch the same movie and never grow bored of it.”
“Good to know!”
Like that; intuitive, second nature; Eddie knew when he gave you news that could be disappointing, he chased it with a thoughtful remark, validating your considerate gesture.
You slipped them back into the bag, and shouldered it. “I was thinking we could move the TV and VCR in her room, and build a fort around it with a pile of blankets on the floor for her to sleep on like she’s camping. Super cozy. Maybe some string lights if you have some from Christmas?”
“That..” The subtle arch in his eyebrows climbed higher as his eyes drifted closed in true appreciation. “That sounds like a perfect plan.” And his face went apologetic again. “And yeah, thank you for coming early. I was trying to send Adrie on a playdate so she’d come home tired and want to sleep while we’re playing, but, yeah, that went to shit, and then I tried calling her usual babysitters, but they couldn’t watch her at their places, and my uncle’s gone until the morning, and Steve and Nancy are–”
Interrupting him, you stepped into the doorway, and he moved to accommodate you. “Next time,” you said, cupping his upper arm, “just call me first.”
You squeezed and trailed your fingers down his sleeve as you let the moment mature in traces of your fingertips brushing over the thick poly-cotton of his sun-bleached black hoodie missing its drawstring. He prized the moment by memorizing the angel the universe blessed him with; and you were rooted by his gaze, driven to wonder about the ardency which he watched the minute press of your lips when you swallowed, and the coincidence of his own lips twitching into a jumpy smile.
“Let me show you Adrie’s room.”
His home was much the same as when you left it. There was a pillow and blanket tossed on the corner of the couch, a Little Mermaid plate and fork dripping in the dish rack, an assortment of clean clothes piled into a laundry basket on top of the washing machine. Though, Adrie’s toys were put away and the bathroom sink was scrubbed clean of children’s bubble gum flavored toothpaste.
Eddie pushed open the door at the end of the hall, and for the first time, with the tail end of daylight piercing the burgundy curtained window, you saw beyond a few feet to the bed.
You wished you could say the precious girl in the middle of the room caught your eye, but realistically, your attention was drawn to the walls. Specifically, the amount of pink and white Barbie advertisements cut from magazines and special edition My Little Pony fold out posters lining every square inch of available space.
But the girly stuff ended at the height of the dresser beside you.
The bedroom was divided in half, horizontally. Above the mirror decorated in stickers and photos tucked into the frame, the ponies and rainbows ended there, obliterated by a sharp line of black. A RATT flag, Corroded Coffin banner, and printed images of paladins fought the encroaching Carebears and sweet things. Every heavy metal poster in existence overlapped the final push to the ceiling. You took it all in with an air of baffled amusement.
You waved a finger at the top half. “She uh.. a big Judas Priest fan?”
Eddie was already cutting his eyes to you with a sly smile, Adam’s apple bouncing with a mute giggle. “This used to be my room.”
“I figured as much.”
Mixed amongst the posters were guitars hung where only he could reach them, and there was an amp shoved beneath a white desk where his daughter was currently setting up her stuffed animals, picking up one to show you, then second guessing and putting it down.
Eddie vied for you before she could. “Wanna see somethin’?” he asked, walking around the queen sized bed to the closet. Accurately, you guessed he was going to show you a clue to his past, and stepped over the dragging corner of the blue and white comforter, shimmying past him to stand next to the small bookshelf, excitedly watching him reach into the dark abyss. From the top shelf he pulled a lump of jean fabric, and unfolded it, handing it to you. “I used to wear this every day in my youth.”
You pinched the article of clothing between the very tips of your fingers, and turned your head to cough. “Jesus, dude. How much did you used to smoke?”
“Way more than I do now,” he laughed.
After some heavy side-eyeing about his habits, you took a closer look at the garment. The blue plaid lined jean jacket had ratty edges everywhere it could have ratty edges; helped by its sleeves being ripped off, of course. A collection of pins and patches mirrored the ones on his (used to be) bedroom walls–before a princess ruled his kingdom, and fought back the dragons.
“You used to wear this everyday?” you voiced aloud, finding the sentimental value in touching something so dear to him, for him to hang onto it for all these years.
“Should I wear it tonight?” Taking it from you, he flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt, and slipped his arms through the vest, turning around to show you the Dio patch on the back, pointing to it with his thumbs.
You golf clapped. “Very cool. Very tough.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie faced you and tidied the stray waves of his hair flowing out from under the hood, raking his fingers through his bangs until they were perfectly messy, and again, it was one of those strange exchanges where your too honest gazes met, and he diverted his humble smile to the floor, shy and bashful, but not in pretend like before.
You were in his home, in his daughter’s bedroom, doing him a favor, which was feeling less and less like a favor, and more like a convenient excuse you both seized as an opportunity to hang out.
“Miss Mouse!” Adrie gunned for your hand, and embarked on her greatest effort to break you away from her father, tugging you towards her collection of plushes you still needed to be introduced to.
You gasped at the honor, and asked, “Do you want to tell me about them while I braid your hair?”
She lit up at the suggestion. Eddie wasn’t the best at weaving plaits, and she wasn’t the most patient, so having an unbiased party step in to determine whether it was a ‘him’ problem or a ‘her’ problem sounded grand.
And as you sank onto the edge of the mattress with her sitting criss-cross between your legs, it was obvious within the first few twists of the French braid sitting flat against her head, and curved perfectly over her ear, that it was most definitely a ‘him’ problem.
Behind you, there was a great sigh at your victory.
Adrie held up a brown teddy with one glass bead eye slightly larger than the other after surgery was performed on him to replace the one he lost, and said, “This is Mr. Bear.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bear,” you said, using your best Children’s Television Program presenter voice to entertain her. You threw a smile over your shoulder at the silliness, and Eddie was already looking at you, warm brown eyes shining with the same fondness as yours.
“And he’s married to Mrs. Froggy.”
“Wow, a bear and a frog.” You nodded, impressed. “I guess true love knows no bounds.”
Feeling like the third wheel to you and Adrie, Eddie moved into action. “I’m gonna go out to the shed and start bringing in extra chairs, and the Christmas lights you asked for. And, uh, here’s her hair stuff.” He handed you a basket filled to the brim with every style of ponytail holder a drug store could carry. “You two have fun.”
Naturally, as he stepped away to leave, you curled your fingers at him in a childish wave, while Adrie used Mrs. Frog’s hand to do the same, adding on a sing-songy “Bye!” to hers.
And what a delight it was to witness the beginnings of the red flush creeping up his neck as he took a final glance at you both smiling up at him, and he pinched the hood over his mouth to shield his crooked simpering from further inspection.
~~~
The gloaming sky dozed in a blanket of pink and purple clouds knitted together with ribbons of orange.
Eddie leaned in the doorway to the porch, resting his shoulders on the frame as he crossed his ankles. The backs of his hands stung from overwashing them during the dry season, but his palms were soothed by the piping hot bowl he cupped to his chest. His muscles ached from unrest, but he grew warmer with each bite of the cinnamon sugar toast he dipped into the peanut butter oatmeal. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken the time to wipe down the folding chairs from the shed, but when you asked if there were any spiders on them in that timid wobble of yours, he had no other choice. And he’d do it again, even if his body protested the entire ordeal.
Squinting into the beauty of the setting sun, he sighed. Adrienne squealed. You cheered her on.
The pain in his hands subsided, the clawing hunger in his stomach settled, and the soreness in his lower back relented. All his worries fell away when his girl was happy.
For Eddie, standing by as the outsider to the scene of you and his daughter bonding over the neon green bottle of sloshy bubbles, he was aware of the catch in your voice when you asked about the unicorn and learned of his name, Fluff. You released a tender ‘aw’ from the back of your throat, and oh, it fulfilled him in ways he couldn’t possibly articulate. A simple noise, and it felt like a hug from an old friend. A pinky promise. A rare complacency in his life. Ataraxia.
He sensed it more, and more. When you sprinted back and forth on the porch, blowing bubbles for her to pop before they landed on the ground; giggling, laughing. Giggling, laughing. And he was smiling, smiling. It was sweet, so sweet; this new loop he found himself in. Gone was the stress. You took care of it. You heard him say Adrie needed to be tired out before bed time, and here you were, standing at the edge of the creaky floorboards, blowing a slew of bubbles for her to chase in the deadened grass.
She complained, “I can’t–reach!” She jumped, and jumped, but the bubble caught the gust from her fingertips, and continued floating away.
“Use Fluff!”
Elated at the ingenuity, she snatched Fluff from where he posed at your feet, and she launched herself off the deck for the last bubble, popping it with the very tip of his white horn. “Yay!”
“Rad!”
He watched until your forms were bathed in dusky blue, and the cold swallowed your heaving breaths.
Licking clean the last spoonful of his late, late breakfast, he reminded you both, “You girls better get started on this fort before it gets too late. Still gotta set up for the game too.” After whispering a curse under your breath, you ushered Adrie inside, and he asked her, “Can you take this to the sink?” Remarkably, she took his bowl without complaint, but stood stock still until he forced out a pointed, “Thank you,” in a tone implying she should scram.
She snickered at getting a rise out of him, and jogged away.
He reached into his pocket for the object weighing down the front of his hoodie, and produced a tangerine. Juice squished from the top of the fruit where he stabbed his thumb into the rind, and the scent of fresh citrus filled the air. “The chairs are certified spider-free. Got them inspected by a professional and everything.”
Your glare was mellowed by sweetness. “My hero.”
“Daddy.” Adrie was back, and with one simple demand of her hand held out flat, he peeled faster, and dislodged two segments for her. She popped them in her mouth, and ran to her room.
Interesting..
Testing him, you held your hand out flat as well, and with a bored stare, he placed two segments in your palm too.
“Don’t worry, I won’t call you Daddy unless you want me to,” you said, tossing them in the air, and catching them in your mouth. And as the fruit popped between your teeth, and the cold juice gushed like ice over your tongue, your brain caught up to what you just implied, and you froze mid-chew.
Eddie’s expression morphed from slack-jawed surprise, to intrigue, to his lips clamped tight, body shaking with silent laughter. “What?” he squeaked out.
“Uhh–I mean–How about we forget I said that?” you offered, wagging your finger from him to you.
No way.
No way in hell was he about to let you live that one down.
He loved your blunder. Reveled in it, even. It was sweet, sweet revenge. Payback.
Eddie took you off guard by snatching your wrist. He drew you into him as he pushed off the doorframe, bringing you in real close, eliminating the gap between your bodies. His cheeks may have darkened, but it was his greatest pleasure to imbue all his wickedness into repeating the same word you used months ago when he was driving you to Adrie’s school play and he made a similar joke about your bike and riding a man to work.
His nose scrunched with wolfish satisfaction. “Never.”
“Don’t be mean,” you whined. Putting up a weak fight, you attempted to twist your hand from his grasp to–hopefully–bolt away, and bury yourself in a pile of bedsheets for the rest of eternity; just somewhere you could hide, and desperately avoid thinking about the delicious zing traveling to the worst places.
But he wouldn’t let go.
There was clear disdain in the way his posture stiffened the split-second anyone other than his daughter called him Daddy, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to introduce the context of calling him such a name, whether it would happen when you were under him, gasping it into his mouth; or in different position, with your knees on either side of his narrow hips, bouncing out the syllables..
His breathing deepened. You squirmed.
Caught in each other’s trap. Impossible to look away, the sweltering fantasy sat heavy in your mutual gaze, wide pupils boring into wide pupils. Heartbeats pounding beneath the surface of uncharted waters. An intimacy to his study of your body language, especially when you tilted your head to the side, and the lingering wryness in his eyes turned curious.
Illuminated by the glow of the bathroom light above the medicine cabinet, the face framing layers of Eddie’s haircut brushed his cheeks from beneath the hard shadows of his hood, and the fog from your exhales mixed in the inky darkness.
Alas, the standoff came to an abrupt end when Adrie called your name.
“I should help her with the fort,” you whispered in a release of tension.
One finger at a time, he opened his harmless grip. “I’m gonna bring your bike up here in case the weather turns,” he said, voice the same as always when he had you this near; quiet, tame, cutting in and out in the vowels.
“What a gentleman.”
Definitely a gentleman when he bit into the tangerine as if it were an apple to distract you from his hand tugging down his hoodie to hide the hard outline stretching towards the thigh of his light wash blue jeans.
You sneered at the fleshy strings of fruit pulp gathering over his lower lip. “And by gentleman, I mean utter weirdo.”
~~~
By winter’s solid nightfall, most of the fort had been completed. Eddie visited the room to drop off the TV (after it had been cleaned of staticy dust clinging to the glass), and placed it and the VCR on top of a Coca-Cola crate at the foot-end of the blanket nest you created. At one point he grabbed his acoustic guitar from the wall, and brought more clothes pins.
You pinned the last corner of the sheet canopy above Adrie while she pulled her tea party table inside the fort, and set up her toys in the itty bitty pink chairs. She volunteered to string the twinkly lights herself, giving you an excuse to go to the kitchen where you could make the highest quality finger sandwiches as dinner for her and her cotton-stuffed guests. And by total coincidence, Eddie was beside you, hunched over the counter with a DND book opened to a page of illustrations with a blank character sheet to his right.
“Ham, mayo, cheese, and the thinnest layer of mustard,” he told you.
You organized the ingredients to Adrie’s sandwich and confirmed, “A hint of mustard. Got it.” Taking two slices of sandwich bread, you placed them on her Beauty and the Beat plate, and dipped a butter knife into the mayo jar, slathering a generous amount on one side. One the other, you merely suggested mustard had been in the presence of it with a single swipe.
He angled the book to you. “Which race and class do you want to play as?”
Looking over the pictures, there were more to choose from than you initially assumed, but there was a clear winner towering above the rest. “That one. The big green guy.” Apparently he was called a half-orc, and he was stacked with muscle on top of muscle. “I wanna be huge and brawny like him, crushin’ my enemies with my giant biceps. Like, everyone’s scared of me, but I save kittens on the weekends. Fighter type, or whatever’s the term. Melee? I wanna beat people up with my bare fists.”
Eddie glanced you up and down. “Overcompensating for something?”
Deflating, your puffer jacket swished fabric-on-fabric as you dropped your arms. You pouted, but the tug at his heartstrings went ignored as he rolled a large dice, and picked up the pencil.
So be it. It was your turn to sum him up in one glance. How his shaggy outdated haircut gathered on his shoulders, curtaining his face as he underlined words on the character sheet, not even paying you attention. How his jean vest paraded his music tastes under years of dust and a decade of smoke baked into it; offensive and meant to ward off others, unless they belonged. How he decorated his skin in macabre imagery, and wore his white tennis shoes with just enough dirt to show he didn’t care. How every denim item he owned came with holes. How his keys dangled from a keyring attached to his belt loop, so everyone was forced to listen to him expressing his apathy towards the world with each stomp, and rattle of chains swinging against his leg. How he bent over the counter with his hip cocked out, making his pants crease to his inner thighs, highlighting a particular package beneath a handcuff belt buckle. How he was decked out in his usual skull themed rings. Prickly, jaded, drives too fast, and has never heard of an ‘inside voice’ once he deemed you worthy of his boisterous ramblings. Loud, obnoxious, excessively weird when he was himself around you.
You asked, “Are you overcompensating for something?”
“I don’t need to.”
Cool, smooth, nonchalant.
I don’t need to.
Warmth flooded your abdomen. Heat reached your cheeks. Blood rushed, descended to the place your thighs clenched, where your jean’s stiff metal zipper went tight–and if you stood a certain way–the seam grazed over.
Rolling the dice again, his expression remained impassive as he filled in more blank spots, asking you in a monotone voice, “What’s your orc’s name?”
“Gary,” you answered in a bout of exasperation, annoyed he’s acting like he didn’t just say that.
There was no way you were about to be the one squirming again. After his teasing earlier, he deserved a dose of his own medicine.
Feeling undue bravery, you set the butter knife down, and rested your elbow on the counter, angling your body towards him with your hands linked over your stomach, wearing an adorably smug pinch of confusion between your brows. You were the example of casual when you asked, “Do orcs fight with a dagger? Maybe six and a half.. seven inches in length? Curved to the right? Real girthy handle?”
Eddie’s face lurched into wide-eyed awe at your bombshell of an innuendo. He turned his head slowly, frizzy curls sticking to his just-licked lips, fluttering in front of his gawking smile as he exhaled a stunned huff. His big brown eyes were alert with the thrill of the subject, and he stared, waiting for you to fold. You didn’t blink, acting classes coming in handy as his eyebrows climbed higher and higher, and you remained stoic, free of emotion.
A choked out– “I..” –came from his mouth, but he didn’t finish. He hooked his finger around a lock of hair, and twisted it, yanking more over the lower half of his face as he shrank into the comfort of his hoodie, leaving just his eyes visible.
At last, he answered, voice wavering high and tight, “A little over seven, I think.”
You lifted your chin, and rolled your lips inward, steeling yourself from voicing anything other than an impressed hum.
However..
Having a knack for bad decisions, you drew in a breath to speak–but Adrie came to your rescue before you humiliated yourself by saying something abhorrent like, ‘my, my, that’s quite a size,’ or ‘I heard that orc’s been single a while; what’s his skill level with that weapon?’ or worse, ‘need a second opinion on that length?’
“Are you almost done?”Adrie asked.
She sought the answer by snaking her hands under your jacket and clinging onto the back of your hips, making you jolt at her cold fingers creeping over your skin, and you stumbled after she trusted you to support her weight while she jumped onto her tippy toes.
You lost your balance, and your hero from further harm was Eddie.
Well, less of a hero, and more like he stood with his arms pinned to his sides, and took the brunt of your fall.
He released a painful wheeze from being wedged into the corner where the sharp edges of the countertop dug into his bones.
“Sorry,” you think you whispered, but maybe it never left your lungs.
You watched the subtle tic under his eyes when he said, “S’okay,” and the ‘s’ whistled sharply between his teeth.
It was amazing–incredible–to discover he had freckles sprinkled across the top of his cheekbones, standing out against the telltale shade of embarrassment. You’d never been this close to notice them before; near enough your nose tickled from the end of his hair. Never had the opportunity to catch yourself on his bicep, and feel the extraordinary body heat radiating off him, dialed on high from the last few minutes. And now you had to continue living as if you didn’t know his dick size.
Adrie brought you back to reality. “Can you cut off the top crust? It’s shaped like a butt, and I don’t like it.”
Letting go of Eddie, you reached for her, patting her shoulder for her back up and release you from this awkward prison. “Y-Yeah, of course. No top crust. Got it, little lady.”
She giggled and kept talking as you put an ample gap between you and her dad. Thank God she giggled and kept talking as you and Eddie regained some semblance of composure.
“Can you cut it in long squares?”
“Rectangles,” Eddie corrected gently.
“Reck-tangles,” she pronounced.
“Perfect.” He grabbed his pencil and dice, and picked up where he left off on your character sheet. And you were more than happy to play along, peeling the Kraft Single from its plastic film and placing it on top of two slices of ham before cutting it into long squares.
~~~
With her sandwich made, you and Adrie sat at the tiny pink table under the fort. Your neck ached from the constant hunched position, and your legs were falling asleep, but you’d deal with the pain if it meant having tea with the princess.
She tipped air from an empty tea pot into the tea cups, and Mr. Bear thanked her for his imaginary portion.
Throughout the play-dinner, Eddie was in and out of the room. There were noises from the closet, sounding like he was picking up shoeboxes filled with rattling items. The canopy drooped when he opened the top drawer on the dresser where it was tied. Musical notes from a wind instrument trilled from the living room.
After another bite of her sandwich–Oh, no, Princess Adrienne, I’m much too full, you may have mine–a ne’erdowell crashed your exclusive party.
“Hey, this is pretty,” Eddie said, poking his head inside; his grin lengthening into a frightful shadow from the Christmas lights stuck in his hair. He looked around at the hard work his little girl put into the fort, linking the bedsheets from his old desk, across the back of a chair, and held aloft by the dresser. The TV occupied the space one of his amps used to, and the nest of blankets covered what used to be a network of cords, albums, and magazines. But that was years ago. Now, his gaze settled on the adult woman feigning a long sip on her toddler-sized tea cup, and a hand smashed against his face–
Adrie shoved him out of the fort, and whipped closed the entryway bedsheet. “No boys allowed!”
“But.. I need to borrow Miss Mouse,” he begged in a pitiful quaver.
She cut her eyes to you, and rolled them into the next eternity (a move you’d become an expert in yourself.) You bargained with her in a haughty shrug, and after a moment of consideration, she drew back the curtain. “Fine.”
Making an unglamorous exit by crawling on your hands and knees, you accepted Eddie’s warm palm to help you stand. “What’cha need help with?”
“The folding table is behind the couch, and it’s annoying to pull out by myself with all the mugs in the way,” he explained on his way to the living room. “Oh, can you move that stuff off it? Yeah, just toss it in a corner.”
He used his shin to push the coffee table against the wall while you picked up the pillow and stack of blankets off the corner of the couch. But after collecting them to your chest, and the thinning pillow released a puff of air from its wilted self, you were struck with an array of scents. Hair products, cigarette smoke, vanilla, sour sweat; notes of exhaust, motor oil, and fumes.
It smelled bad in the good way.
The mix stung your nostrils, twinged at your eyes. But it was a comfort you hugged tighter. Familiarity you inhaled deeper. Home in your lungs.
You took his pillow, and Adrie’s kaleidoscope quilt with the tattered facing, and went to place them on the fold-out bed in the corner, assuming it was his; but as you neared, you scrutinized the collection of items on the oak nightstand beside it. A brand of cigarettes he didn’t smoke, a BIC lighter he didn’t use, a comb, and a clunky silver watch. And as you thought about it more, you saw the fold-out bed already had a set of sheets and a pillow balanced on top of it.
“Eddie, where do you sleep?”
There was much care put into your question, but the uneasy way it probed into his private life was evident in his change in demeanor.
He was slow to stand up from adjusting a side table out of the way, never quite unslouching the weight from his shoulders when he pushed his hood back to run a hand over his hair. The cuckoo clock on the wall ticked by as you watched him scratch his fingernails in tight circles on his scalp, roughing up his hair, never quite focusing his gaze on anything.
“Well,” he mumbled, gesturing at the lumpy couch cushions. “Here.”
Despite figuring as much, he never stated it bluntly, and to know another hardship of his reality squeezed your heart with sympathy.
He must’ve read the emotion on your face as pity, because his tone reflected an edge of annoyance; a deep-seated stress sneaking out when he spoke to those who didn’t get it. “Most of my paycheck goes to Adrie’s daycare. That shits expensive, and as much as I don’t want her growing up right in front of me, things will get better when she finally starts real school. I won’t be paying for that anymore, and I can start saving up, and maybe, y’know, start making some changes around here.” He spoke with his hands in a sad sort of shrug, waving at the trailer, though his gaze was cast down, and away from you. “But this is how it is, okay? I can’t do anything to fix it.” There was a haunting sort of pessimism that came from living in poverty. As much as he made statements about changing his life when he had more money, there was still the pile of bills in the kitchen, the numerous things in need of fixing around the house, Wayne’s truck on its last leg, and the fear of a random doctor visit wiping out his bank account. All of that resided in his tone.
You gripped his pillow harder, not sure what to say other than a hushed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
At that, he shook himself out of ruminating on his situation, and saw you were awkwardly twisting the pillowcase around your fingers, staring at the floor. He realized he messed up.
Every bit of him went soft for you. “Wait, wait, wait,” he soothed, striding three steps to you and cupping his palms around your upper arms. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not to you. Not when you’ve been the sweetest–seriously, the sweetest, and most generous person to me and Adrie. It–It, yeah, it hits a sore spot, talking about shit like having to sleep on the couch, but I didn’t mean to speak to you that way.” He finished with a final, sweet, but quick, and enunciated assurance, “I’m sorry.”
Overwhelmed by the whiplash in his change of attitude, followed by his sincere apology, you stammered, “Oh, uh, it’s okay. I understand why you reacted the way you did. It’s cool.”
At an impasse, you looked up at him. He stroked his thumbs over the cool outer layer of your jacket. Swish, swish, swish.
More, deeper. Swish, swish, swish.
You understood.
This was our first fight as whatever-we-are, and I’m showing you I can apologize instead of brushing it off and forgetting about it like I used to.
It was the mildest spat, yet it was a milestone for him.
“Seriously, we’re good,” you said, crushing the pillow to your chest.
Shifting the subject, he lightened the mood. “Also, did I mention how much I appreciate you coming over early, and playing with Adrie? The whole fort thing, going out of your way to get her movies, ‘nd making her run around like a maniac? Genius.”
“Yeah, yeah, put it on that ‘thank you’ tab you owe me,” you teased him, pulling away to set his bedding on top of his uncle’s.
“Soon!” he promised. He tapped at the side of his head. “Got some ideas brewing in here.”
“Not sure if I should be excited, or scared.”
Ah, his two-front-teeth-showing grin. Your favorite.
He laughed, and with your help, the couch was scooted away from the wall enough for the wood laminate fold-out table to be wiggled out from behind it at an angle which avoided knocking the mugs hanging from the shelf above it. You draped a tablecloth over it in a flourish. Eddie pressed the wrinkles out of the grid pattern, and began placing miniature standees from the shoeboxes onto the squares; parts of a village, cobblestone fences, and characters to fill out the town. When he didn’t need you anymore, you went to check on Adrie, and the moment you crawled inside the fort and she showed you the pajamas Eddie picked out for her earlier, there was a series of car honks outside.
Showtime.
“You ready, Miss Adrie?”
“Mhm!”
Tires crunched rocks in the makeshift driveway. Engines died. Noises, greetings, Eddie’s happiness grew louder, and louder. A group sounded off. Several sets of shoes scraped the cement steps, and in the amalgamation of voices was one above the rest, “Hey, looking good, man. Haven’t seen you since you almost killed my elven ranger before Christmas.”
You crawled backwards out of the fort, and caught Adrie’s hand before she ran out of the room.
From the living room, Eddie sucked his teeth, and dismissed his friend. “You had it coming all night with the way you were walking around not checking for traps.”
“It was one time! And besides–” The argument stopped. His blue eyes went wide with shock, outstretched arms drooping as he focused on something behind Eddie. He lowered the two six packs he was carrying. “A girl!”
Being led by an excited almost-five-year-old, you bolted around the kitchen counter, and raised your eyebrows at the blunt acknowledgement of your existence. You looked at Eddie, whose entire being depleted with a sigh.
With his head hung, he swept his arm towards you. “This is my friend from work. She’s playing with us tonight.” And under his breath, he muttered to the young man wearing a ballcap over his springy curls, “Be cool.”
He shoved a six pack at Eddie’s chest, and pursued you with his hand held out. “I’m Dustin! Eddie’s friend from high school, and previous Hellfire member,” he said, displaying a mouthful of adult braces.
“Dustin, it’s nice to meet you!”
Repeating people’s names back to them was a helpful memorization tool, but as your gaze shifted, the nerves of making a good first impression on Eddie’s friends sat heavy in your stomach.
The other guys on the stairs came up behind Dustin. In a rush, you were introducing yourself to the beginnings of a crowd stomping through the living room. Exchanging names and smiles and handshakes, you gripped Adrie’s tiny hand for support and said, “I’m the receptionist at the auto shop, that’s how I know Eddie.”
The one who approached you last–Gareth, drummer for Corroded Coffin–snapped his fingers, and exclaimed, “Oh! You’re the receptionist.”
“Alright, alright,” Eddie interjected, body and voice between you two. “Beer goes in the kitchen, and I’ll order pizza in a minute.”
He passed off the six pack to someone else.
Gareth reached into his leather jacket with a wicked, lopsided grin. “I brought something a little stronger than beer.” Though most of your vision was taken up by the back of Eddie’s shoulder, you caught a flash of amber liquid in a clear bottle, and a black label.
Kneeling beside you, Jeff–guitarist for Corroded Coffin–tilted his head down so Adrie could touch the wooden beads at the end of his short braids, and said to Eddie, “You know, since we’re havin’ it at your place again, why not make it memorable? Or not memorable,” he joked. “Maybe a sip for every roll under 13.”
Eddie gave him the Dad stare. “You’re gonna be shitfaced–Adrie, you didn’t hear that–by the time this is over, and I’m not organizing rides for all of you.”
“I’m driving tonight.” Lloyd–bassist for Corroded Coffin–jangled his car keys.
“And so am I,” a girl’s voice came from beyond the entryway everyone was crowding. “Now can we come inside before we freeze to death, or do you really think you can take on another basilisk without my help?”
A round of laughter gave way to the next group entering.
SWISH, SWISH, SWISH.
The girl at the helm of the windbreaker brigade went to the kitchen to drop off the case of beer straining her arms. (It seemed that was the payment of choice to the host.)
Sensing you were lost to the sea of faces, Eddie laid a comforting hand between your shoulder blades, and drifted it downwards to the small of your back. “That’s Erica, Max, and Lucas,” he told you in your ear.
Max held on tight to Lucas’ arm, taking smaller steps into the mixture of orange and blue-white lamps flooding the room tight with bodies, and shapes she was unfamiliar with.
“Aw, don’t you two look cute,” Gareth goaded them in an overly saccharine way.
Max groaned, “I told him it was lame.”
Whereas she shrank into her black and neon pink jacket, Lucas scoffed, and fueled her disgusted tongue click. “Matching windbreakers should be the least of your worries. You’re playing Dungeons and Dragons. You can’t get any lamer than that.” To finish, he popped the collar of his in a suave swish, and guided her into the kitchen.
She made a gagging sound, and Erica made one too.
————
While waiting for the last guest to arrive, the front door remained open. The glow from inside etched the peeling paint on the stair’s ornate handrail in gold. Warm laughter rolled out like fog into the dry frigid night, where neighbors could hear it. See it. Feel the vibrations of Eddie Munson’s friendship, support, weirdness being celebrated. Witness the joy others could not steal from him. They could observe the vehicles parked out front, listen to the rapture of claps when Adrie performed a song and dance, and taste the bitterness in their mouths when Eddie “The Freak” Munson continuously found his gaze drifting to the girl beside him, who beamed at him openly.
————
Fashionably late, a loud car turned into the trailer park; the obnoxious kind, where the motor rumbled like a death rattle, but in a cool way, because it was made to sound like that on purpose.
Eddie looked over his shoulder, and raised his hand at Mike. “Hey, man,” he whispered, keeping their conversation separate while everyone else was exchanging stories.
“Did you wanna check out the engine?” Mike bounced his eyebrows, swinging the keys to his bright yellow muscle car. “I installed it a few weeks ago.”
It was a tempting offer. He wasn’t opposed to car talk, nor freezing his hands off to fawn over the modifications Mike made to his beloved 1979 Mustang while in the big city for school, and, of course, Eddie was going to give him his usual spiel about working for David when he came back to Hawkins. However, he didn’t want to abandon the newest member to their party.
“In a min,” Eddie said to Mike, motioning with his head to come inside.
Assuming he’d just tossed his girl to the wolves, Eddie zoned into the conversation again, and rubbed his hand along your back. His palm passed over the warm spot on your jacket where he was comforting you before, and he glanced around the circle of his friends–tightly knit, and grinning at you.
He assumed wrong.
You weren’t shy, or intimidated to be the new person in a group of people who’d known each other for decades, failing to be heard over their easy banter and inside jokes. No. They were hanging onto your every word.
The group had gone hushed, captivated by your life. You had a knack for turning the mundane into marvelous enthrallments of relatable spectacular. Every sentence was more entertaining than the last. The punch lines landed, and kept coming. You worked them like a crowd–and when someone else shared a similar anecdote, you were asking questions, getting them to open up, and take the stage. This was you. You were in your element. You didn’t need Eddie.
“Oh! That reminds me of this one lady when I was waitressing in Philly..”
“In New York we had these huge pigeons that would..”
“Back home, there was this place on the corner where..”
Eddie took his hand away. The insulated warmth dissipated from his palm as he let it hang at his side. Your rolodex of stories separated you from him.
“Dude, you wanna talk about bad dates? This one time..”
“And then there was this guy who..”
“–Worst kiss ever.”
Details were spared–maybe because both he and Adrie were there–but the story beats were like stabs to his stomach. Clenched, sinking hot with envy. It wasn’t like him. Not really. He didn’t think so, anyway. But maybe he was wrong.
Jealousy prickled under his skin at every mention of ‘home’ and ‘date.’ He didn’t appreciate the heat to his cheeks, nor the loneliness of his hand reaching out for Adrie, only for her to notice him with a sleepy blink while she clung to your hips, and it was your fingers rubbing her little shoulder.
Of course he knew the subject of your stories, of course he knew you’d been on hundreds of dates, of course he knew you lived a larger life than him, but he’d never had to listen to the yearn in your voice when you spoke about the things you missed. The city, the people, being on stage. Performing, collecting stories, having dinners at sit-down restaurants. These were eccentricities integral to your design, and Eddie Munson had no place among them.
“Hey, Wheeler?” The lump in Eddie’s throat grew. Even Mike was transfixed on listening to you, forgetting about the keys in his hand. Leaning closer, he tapped on his friend’s teal raincoat to get his attention. “Mike? You wanted to show me your–?”
“Right!” Mike whipped his head around, sending his shaggy haircut bouncing in freshly styled waves. “Yeah, so I started with..” he trailed off, walking down the stairs, and out to the yard.
Before Eddie followed, he surveyed the group; Gareth was snickering his way through a story, while the rest of you went nauseous at his description of getting eighteen stitches, and replicating the sound of the needle popping through his skin.
“Babe?” he whispered under the group’s grossed out gasps, speaking the endearment for you only. Taking control, in a way, of his shame by reminding himself he could call you by a sweet nickname, and you’d answer.
You divided your attention, tipping your ear to him, and tearing your gaze from Gareth’s bizarre reenactment of how he fractured his tibia, and settling your eyes on Eddie’s Cupid’s bow when he made a request, “I’m gonna talk shop with Mike. Can you take over here? Get people settled, and Adrie in bed?”
“Of course, handsome.”
For couples, this is where he would duck to give you a kiss on the forehead, or bring you to his side for a hug and be on his way, and perhaps you gleaned those tentative actions when he hesitated on the lean-in, and sat in the subsequent awkwardness of playing it off as a friendly pat on your back when he realized, yeah, he’d never hugged you before.
You diffused the tension by laughing at him. Great.
As he rolled his eyes, you stopped him from leaving, and stepped away from the group.
“Where should we put our jackets?” you asked, pinching the zipper of yours.
Eddie paused in the middle of his gangly stride, and glanced at the two available hooks beside his leather jacket. It hadn’t started snowing or sleeting yet, so everyone’s coats would be dry. “Couch is fine.”
You said, “Cool,” and plunged your hand. In the blink of an eye, you had unzipped your jacket, and thrown your arms back, wiggling it down your shoulders and tugging it off by the cuffs. Underneath your jacket was a tight white tank top and unbuttoned flannel. A nice, fitted, ribbed shirt. Lower cut than anything you had worn at the auto shop, and clinging to your chest as you arched your back and shimmied out of your outer layer.
His gaze stalled.
You didn’t comment on it. He didn’t say anything, either, when his focus snapped to your face, and he read your sly smirk. Adrie, however, grew restless.
“I’m sleepy,” she whined.
“Okay, sweet bean,” you said, besotted by how little her hand was in yours. “C’mon, we can pick out the first movie to play in the fort, too.”
Eddie, thankful to have a distraction, and even more thankful you didn’t call out his obvious ogling, sank to his knees to give his little girl a goodnight hug and kiss. Part of him missed not being able to sit on the couch with her falling asleep on his chest, but the twelve peppered kisses to her cheek would have to suffice. He trusted you to take over the last few steps of Adrie’s night routine without his supervision, and sat back on his calves–after doting over her one last time by straightening out the long sleeves on her pajamas, and twirling the end of her braid around his finger.
“Night,” he kissed against her forehead.
“Night, Daddy,” she kissed back.
Kneeling on the carpet for a moment longer, he ran his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth at watching you walk away with her. He was hidden amongst the throng of legs, and deep conversation. Invisible for now.
Drop, by drop, his chest filled with tender emotions. A coffee pot of feelings he swore to suppress poured into his heart; brimming the edge, overflowing, bringing heat to those neglected hopes, longings, and desires. Minutes ago you spoke of home, and he was aware he was not owed the promise of you changing the location of home to within biking distance, but he could hope, because every second you spent with him and his daughter was another coin in the wishing well, sploshing the coffee over.
Soon, the overflow would trickle to his lungs. It would fill them up. It would reach his throat. It would coat his tongue, wet his mouth, and before he knew it, those confessions would be spilling into words for you to cup to your mouth and drink until you were as full as he was.
Or, he could suppress them tonight with alcohol. Just enough to dull the urge, but still act as Dungeon Master.
Or, the whiskey could loosen his tongue, and risky sentiments could flood over, one steady drop at a time.
Either way, he was drowning.
~~~
Diving into the true purpose of the evening, the party split between the kitchen and the table in the living room. Jeff went out to Lloyd’s truck, and brought in a long black case. Snapping the latches open, he took out an electric keyboard, and began setting it up in his lap while Gareth rapped his drumsticks on his thighs in a slow rhythm. In the bedroom, you fluffed up the blankets for Adrie to lay on, tucked the comforter to her chin, and brushed her bangs off her forehead while the blue flash of the Disney castle logo played across her heavy eyelids. Idling around the variety of beers on the kitchen counter, Max gripped one of the silver and red cans, and spun it around its plastic ring holder, straining to discern the label.
You came up behind her to let her know, “That one’s Bud Light.”
“Ew,” she frowned, “who would bring that?” She opted for the can of Pabst instead.
“Some people have no tastes.”
On cue, Dustin wove his way through Lucas’ and Erica’s argument over which Mortal Kombat character was the best, adding a quick, “Liu Kang, obviously,” and snapped a silver can from the ring pack. He looked from you to Max. “What?”
Shifting from the secret giggles rising in your chests, she shrugged. “Nothing!”
He squinted at her, not buying it. Cracking the tab, he took a sip, and then you became the subject of interest. “So,” he started, “how long have you and Eddie been friends?”
Perplexion drew Max’s eyebrows together.
Aware of where this was going, you got your own beer, and carried an airy, casual tone while popping the cap, “Oh, just a few months, since I moved here with my roommate–Robin, if you know her.” His expression answered for you, arching in an ‘ah!’ of understanding.
Max, though, was stuck on another detail. “Wait, you and Eddie aren’t dating? I thought–I figured since he’s never invited anyone here before, and his daughter was, like, holding onto you?”
“Yeah, Adrie’s pretty fond of me, I think,” you answered, hiding your own secret behind the glass bottle to your lips. “And Eddie’s cool, too, I guess.”
“Well, I don’t know about him being cool, per se–” she was cut off.
Blurs of black and teal tumbled in rivers of frosted breath, and clattering teeth. Mike shivered life into his limbs on his way to the sink to run his hands under hot water. Eddie’s cheeks and nose were tinted frosty red as he wiped the dirt from his numb fingers onto his hoodie, and pulled his wallet from the junk drawer to check it for cash.
His brown eyes zeroed on you first, Dustin’s wiry mug second, and Max’s tilted lips third.
As he picked up the phone to dial for pizza delivery with his grease-scraped knuckle, he warned in a playful inflection, “You better not be telling her embarrassing stories about me.”
“Oh, no!” Max promised him. “I didn’t even tell her about how I used to live across from you, and caught you–on numerous occasions–sweeping the porch while blasting ABBA, and screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. While drunk.” She didn’t need to see him from across the kitchen to feel the heat of his glare, and duel it with another cool shrug, defeating him with ease when the pizza place picked up, and he had to stumble over his order.
Once the hurdle of dinner was out of the way, the drinks of choice sweated under the cozy temperature of ten bodies packed like sardines at the table, and with Eddie at the helm of it all, the game commenced.
He set forth a toast. Affection swelled in his even gaze sweeping over his friends who had come to join him in his home, acknowledging the growth behind his ordinary request. He couldn’t speak it without a nervous tremble, no, but they understood. They understood. With pride, his eyelashes twinkled at the outer corners where mirth gathered, and his broad grin creased a slew of Crow’s feet into cascading to his smile lines with his dimple nestled between them. His silent gratitude thanked the room, and when he reached Jeff at his right hand side, Eddie flicked his eyes to the opposite end of the table, and brought the whiskey to his lips.
The room refracted beautifully in the carved edges of the smokey gray tumbler. It was silly, almost, how the squat glass vanished behind his large palm and thick fingers. Sillier, even, when you noticed these things and your heart pumped a little faster.
Sat at the far end across from him, you raised your beer, and sipped.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages,” he spoke in increasing speed and passion, descending into a lower octave as he stood and loomed over his dividers of books, binders, and folders acting as a shield to his Dungeon Master antics, “I present to you, the port town of Irrilis!”
He bowed, and swept his arms over the miniature display.
Sitting back, he guided everyone into the scene. Between describing the smell of the briny sea, the itch of stale sweat mixed with dried blood on their bodies, and the creak of wooden planks under their feet, he expertly wove lore into details of the town, comparing the afternoon sun on the backs of their necks to the stares they were getting. The townsfolk were not expecting newcomers this evening, apparently; and to finish the introduction, he cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed the caw of seagulls perched atop a gnarled bulletin board. When it became clear the fishermen were not interested in speaking to Lloyd’s tiefling, he asked if there was a guard nearby instead. Instantly, Eddie became one. He donned a constant salute, and rigid posture with a nasty curl on his lip, speaking in stunted sentences with a broadened chest.
Watching him perform was mesmerizing.
Your vision narrowed as if you were going lightheaded, highlighting Eddie at the center with sharpened colors. His broad movements coaxed you in, his ability to switch both his pitch and accent raced in your ears, his creature cadence hummed nostalgia along the back of your mind like an old memory of observing another actor on stage mastering their craft. Time forgot to start. He stole a glance in your direction and you were washed in humility. He was gauging your reaction to his geekiness, and whatever he saw, whatever was written in your expression, rewarded his vulnerability. Confidence set his face aglow; power in the way he beheld you. And you praised him by sitting forward, affixing him with all your adoration, considering yourself fortunate to be in his presence.
After all, you’d been enchanted by Eddie Munson since the first day he stomped past your desk with a fierce scowl aimed at the ground, and now? Now he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.
~~~
As with most DND adventures, the fun began at a tavern.
The group had spent too much time with Eddie as their DM, they knew the bulletin board was a red herring, so they explored the city until they found the seediest bar tucked into the end of an alleyway.
You were reading over the details Eddie wrote for you on your character sheet when you were snatched to the present by an array of sounds.
Eddie strummed down on his acoustic guitar, and silenced the vibration with his palm. He then plucked a slow, seeking, progression, circling back until Jeff harmonized on his keyboard, and they nodded their heads in sync while Gareth found the tavern’s beat with the ends of his drumsticks on the edge of the table. Lloyd angled his chair to put his guitar in his lap, and chased the melody quietly under Eddie’s, at a slower tempo.
To be captivated by someone, wholly immersed in their quirks and nature, is to cherish them, and as you played audience to your friend’s natural charisma and ability to impress you in new ways after months of knowing him, your chest panged with the ache to cherish him completely.
You were one beer deep on an empty stomach, and you were already intoxicated by him.
Their song continued as he laid out the exposition of the tavern, and as a party, everyone sat at the bar, or snuck around invisible to glean information. And that’s where you came in–
Jeff changed his tune to have a mysterious dissonance.
Erica’s rogue sidled in beside you at a table, and smoothly asked you a variety of questions: how long you’d been in town, if you knew of the disappearances, or had any encounters with the rumor of the undead lurking outside the kingdom.
You… You looked at your orc’s low intelligence on the paper, and seeing as how you were an improv artist, you roleplayed.
Inhaling a mighty breath, you filled out your not-so-intimidating frame with imaginary muscle, and shot out your hand. “I’m Gary!” you exclaimed, rough and tough.
The guitars stopped on a screech.
Pause.
Eddie covered his mouth. His eyebrows peaked sentimentally. And once his shoulders shook, and his snort squeaked out like a dying sprinkler, everyone laughed. In your periphery, they each reacted differently–all having their unique outbursts at your blunt introduction. Erica, too, giggled as she shook your hand. They were laughing with you. Definitely with you when Jeff chose a sillier ditty to play, and the guys matched him, upbeat and excited for you to wholeheartedly participate in their game.
Soon, your orc joined their party, and a series of clues earned from armwrestling other bar patrons led you down several paths to take, and after finding a lost tome near an underground jail cell (thanks to Dustin’s constant perception checks), your group was led outside, past Irrilis’ stone walls, and to their dying crops.
Mike scooped a collection of dice into his hand after, somehow, engaging in combat with a scarecrow, and began shaking them.
There was a bang at the door.
Mike jumped, uncupping his palms mid-shake, and the dice went flying. He caught three–snatched them right out of the air–and before they ricocheted off his fingers to add to the clatter on the table, he began to juggle them. One, two, three, four perfect rotations, and he set them down.
Eddie hadn’t yet stood up from his chair when his gaze wandered to yours, and he cut you a cheeky, significant grin. You shot him an exaggerated sneer in return. Stupid juggling.
He managed to not trip over the scattered mix of boots and tennis shoes mingling around the entrance, and balanced the exchange of cash for a stack of white cardboard boxes his eyes and handsome nose peeked over on his way to sliding them onto the kitchen counter.
“Orders up, boys.”
As grease soaked into paper plates, and another round of drinks were poured by Gareth’s heavy hand, you were all ushered into the next leg of the game.
Jeff played low notes as background mood music for your party when you came upon your next encounter: ghouls. They were low level, easy to defeat even if there were many, but it was an opportunity for Erica to teach you the different dice. Max leaned over, and helped you keep track of your abilities, and if you could execute them from where you stood on the grid.
When it was Max’s turn to roll for attack and damage in the rotation, she did so in a shallow wooden tray between her and Lucas. The dice tumbled around, pinged the sides, and came to a stop where Lucas could read the numbers, and do the math.
Least to say, she decimated her target.
Erica’s rogue on the other hand rolled a number Eddie was ambivalent towards.
“Convince me you can sneak up on him,” he proposed, squinting over his steepled fingers, and leaning back in his chair. They seemed to butt heads a lot, if her eye roll was anything to go off of.
She stood up from the table, and snapped her fingers at Mike to act as her overly large zombie. “C’mon.”
He groaned, “Not again,” but did as he was told, standing not unlike a limp noodle with a flat stare into the distance as she listed off her character’s skills for Eddie, and hooked her arm around Mike’s throat, bending him backwards over her pencil (pretend knife) to his back. She even shuffled him to where Eddie could acknowledge the poison on the tip of her blade would enter his kidney. He argued the undead did not have functioning kidneys, but conceded her efforts.
It was your turn next, but as you were mulling over the ghouls on the grid in front of your figurine, the rest of the table went silent.
The bedroom door creaked open, and soft footsteps padded out onto the kitchen vinyl. Eddie jerked his head up from behind the dividers. Gareth scooted his chair in, assuming Adrie was going to squeeze by on her way to her dad, but there was no need..
She wedged herself between you and Max, and splayed her arms across your lap. With her cheek to your thigh, she sighed, pitifully, “The movie stopped, and my head hurts.”
“Oh, no,” you consoled her in your silly Children’s Television Program presenter voice. “Is it the braids? They can be so un-com-for-table to sleep in.” Perhaps you instilled too much confidence in the pizza to soak up the alcohol, because you were now two beers and a few sips of whiskey deep into the ‘overly affectionate’ stage of your tipsiness. You collected the sleepy girl to your lap, and enveloped her in a bone crushing hug, rocking yourselves back and forth, fawning each other in a happy hum, unaware of the bewildered stares boring into you as you pressed a kiss above her ear.
The men around the table exchanged confused looks with each other, then threw suspicious glances at Eddie, who appeared struck by Cupid. The girls, much more intuitive and observant, smiled at the sweet scene.
She sat sideways across your legs, and kept a hand crooked into your flannel’s collar while you slipped the yellow bauble ponytail from one of her braids, and loosened the plaits. “Do you wanna roll for me?” you asked her, working through the tangles.
Thrilled to participate in her dad’s game, she woke up just enough to say, “Yeah!”
Max felt for your dice, and handed her the largest.
Instead of Adrie letting go of you to cup her hands around it and shake, she pelted it at the table, and after narrowly missing the LEGO skeleton standees, it came to a stop.
“Eight,” Lloyd said with a hint of regret.
You asked Eddie, “Is that enough to hit?”
“It, uh–” The table’s full attention turned towards the Dungeon Master. He dropped his gaze to his notebook, and traced his finger over the dog-eared page. The pressure of their anticipation manifested in his bouncing knee, masking the tremble that would be present in his words regardless when he answered, “Y-Yeah, yeah. That, uh, that hits.”
The party squirmed with awareness; pressed lips ready to burst.
Oblivious, you put the smaller dice in Adrie’s hand, and added up the numbers when she tossed them. “Eleven!” With your turn done, you unraveled the rest of her other braid, and combed your fingers through her hair, circling them on her scalp to give her some relief. Speaking to her, you said, “Wanna count to eleven while we pick another movie?” She started counting automatically.
There was another whisper in her ear, and she hopped off your lap with her arms raised. You cooed a small, “Thought so,” and picked her up, settling her on your hip. Knowing it was Jeff’s turn, and you wouldn’t be needed for a while, you pushed the bedroom door open with your foot, and closed it behind you the same way.
And the very second it clicked shut, the table erupted.
“Jesus, dude, you’re gonna impregnate your coworker if you keep staring at her like that.”
“Ew,” and “Gross,” came from Max and Erica respectively.
Eddie jolted from his trance, mentally erasing the sway of your ass from his mind. His cheeks seared vicious red at Gareth’s comment.
With more tact, Dustin lilted, “So, just a friend from work, huh?” His blue eyes sparkles with mischief, matching the upturn at the corner of his lips, foretelling no good from this interaction, either.
“A friend,” Jeff added, “that he has the biggest crush on.”
Gareth rolled his bottom lip inward, and cocked his head. “More like she’s his babysitter with benefits.”
Loathing the obvious sheen of sweat rushing to his face, Eddie warned him with a pointed finger. “Don’t call her that.” He swung to Dustin next. “And she is my friend, and my coworker,” he stated evenly, putting emphasis on the last word.
Being the voice of reason in these situations, but not entirely on his side, Lloyd told the younger members, “Around the time they started working together, he started coming to band practice not entirely in a bad mood. A few weeks ago, he was even smiling. Apparently they had this little Christmas party, and there was mistletoe–”
“Shut it!”
“You kissed her?” Lucas gasped.
Gareth was the one to knock the gossipy housewife wind from his sails. “No,” he scoffed with a laugh. “He was too much of a pussy.”
Several of the guys snickered, and one said, “So no benefits, then.”
Reining in his volume, Eddie warned them again in a low tone, “I’m well within my right to not want to make things weird between us if it doesn’t work out. I have to see her every day, regardless.” It was one of his oldest excuses in the book, and to be honest with himself, he dismissed it a long time ago. He no longer feared making things awkward, or tampering with your friendship.. but he wasn’t about to explain his real insecurities to so many people at once.
No one needed to know the true reason behind why he hadn’t asked you out yet.
No one had to know why he walked away when you spoke of ‘dating’ and ‘home.’
It was to protect himself, so no one had to look at him with pity when he explained he wasn’t a good enough reason for you to stay in Hawkins past the end of summer. Instead, he defaulted, “We’re just friends.”
Erica was gentle in her approach. “If we’re all just friends here, then why don’t we get matching bracelets made by your daughter?” On instinct, he tugged his sleeve over his wrist to conceal D-A-D-D-Y. “I saw hers when she was messing with Adrienne’s hair.” She saw M-O-U-S-E. “And if you’re just friends, why doesn’t Adrie ever want to be held by us? Or hugged by us? I honestly thought she didn’t like to be coddled by anyone besides you, but then that just happened..”
The questions sank in Eddie’s stomach. It cooled the frustration from his furrowed brow, and eased the tension from around his eyes. He didn’t have a satisfactory answer for the group, but he could share something close enough to the truth, it might better help them understand his hang ups. But first, he downed the rest of his double on the rocks.
Wincing after his swallow, he set down the glass, and ran the heel of palm along the edge of the table. “I’m taking things slow,” he said, “and you all know why. Okay?” Shrugging a bit, he lifted his eyebrows and spoke again to his binders, focusing on his campaign notes rather than his friends. “I only told her everything, y’know, about what happened to me a few weeks ago, so I’m still giving it some time. And, obviously, yeah it’s a big deal having a kid, and her getting attached to someone else.”
“Aw, he’s in love,” someone said.
Exuding patience by closing his eyes, he continued, “Right, so, if you wanna tell her some less embarrassing stories about me, maybe even make me look good in front of her.. I’d really appreciate it.” He ended with a beckoning clap, as if he were striking a deal with the blisters in his life.
“Or,” Mike asserted, “I can roll to hit this ghoul, and if it succeeds, you have to ask her out tonight.” Before Eddie could respond, Mike puffed a lucky breath into his cupped hands, and bounced the dice across the grid. “Thirteen!”
“Aw, sorry, man. Doesn’t hit.”
Vitriol bit into his snark, “Oh, really? Thirteen doesn’t hit, but eight does? Give me a break.” The more his face pinched into a sour expression at Eddie’s stubborn favoritism, the more wickedness laced itself in the Dungeon Master’s smug grin.
Gareth was contributing another goading remark about breaking strict rules if they benefited Eddie’s chances for getting good pussy, but the squeal of the door knob turning interrupted him.
It was noticeably quieter when you sat down at the table, beaming at the mixed signals of people avoiding your gaze, and meeting it with the type of excessive smile you gave a stranger after you were just talking about them behind their back. “So, whose turn is it?” Jeff raised his hand sheepishly. “Oh, you guys didn’t have to wait for–for me!” You hardly got through the sentence before you were giggling into your drink.
Fear not, Gareth broke the underlying tension. “Hey, did Eddie ever tell you he used to walk out on stage with a rose in his mouth, until” –he motioned at the corner of his lips with a grimace– “he cut himself on the thorns one too many times. Ow!”
Gareth clutched at his foot, and the men shot off rapid fire communication through sharp hand gestures, and widened eyes.
Jeff played the Jaws theme.
“Is that true?” you whispered to Lucas.
Lloyd shouted, “Can we get back to the game?”
Still red in the face, Eddie turned to him with his arms extended graciously. “Yes! Thank you! Let’s get back to the game.”
Adjusting his chair under himself, Eddie the Dungeon Master sat with the distinct grace of someone who went unopposed. Wispy curls of his hair caught the wind, drifting in frazzled layers wherever they pleased. The buttons and pins on his jean vest glittered, and tinked together. His lungs expanded with a long, held breath, stretching the black hoodie over his chest. When no one challenged his unceasing eye contact, he continued, “The ghouls were nigh..”
————
The night matured.
Dustin and Lloyd championed your party to an underground cave where the source of the undead were conjured. Eddie heralded your arrival by opening the box beneath his chair, screwing together something behind his barrier of DND lore, and bringing it to his mouth.
You shouldn’t be surprised by him, yet again, but the fact he played flute was just as adorable as his playful grin straining his plush lips to the metal, and his round doe-eyes flitting to yours, and away.
The notes he played grew increasingly haunting, turning intense during the battle with the necromancer who started this all. Then, as the foe turned to dust, Eddie trilled higher, and higher notes. Sillier, and sillier as Dustin looted the robes he left behind.
Everything about Eddie’s expression was impish when the group asked if the scroll found in the pocket was written in common tongue.
“Why, as a matter of fact it is,” he said, much too cheerful, and trilled an incensing measure.
He was being a menace, and the group began to sag with dread.
Dustin’s words were laced with suspicion and regret. “What does it say?”
“Let’s see! It says..” Eddie held up a prop coil of tea-stained parchment, and cleared his throat to don a brittle old man's voice, “I was a lonely necromancer who missed my wife, children, friends, and family. I was merely resurrecting them to have companionship, and you attacked me for nought. I hope you are happy with yourselves, and can sleep at night.” He abandoned the paper to incite violence in his quick succession of notes on the flute. “The dying crops are not my fault. The soil simply has too many minerals from the estuary near Irrilis, and the quarry to the north.” Peering at the blank sheet fallen to his notebook, he faked confusion, “And it says down here, in teeny-tiny writing, ‘You should have checked the bulletin board.’”
Dustin dropped his head into his hands. “You son of a bitch.”
The rest of the quests went smoother, you supposed. After returning to Irrilis and checking the bulletin board, the party’s findings led to the library, which led to a murder, which led to a mystery, which led to finding an object which had the group gasping in surprise. Apparently, the Crimson Order’s emblem on the second dead person’s body, and bite marks on the neck had a long history within the group. The next big campaign was vampire related. You celebrated along with them, cheersing the end of your whiskey, and chasing it with some much needed water.
~~~
Raw twilight bloomed behind heavy set clouds pulling flutters of white against the black.
The night winded down with more fetch quests sending the party deeper into the woods, and to the edge of the mountains. It would take several more sessions to cover the terrain beyond, or something like that. Something, something tales of a labyrinth or some sort before the vampire castle. Your memory was a little fuzzy. Going with the flow of music, whether it was the mellow strums of Lloyd’s guitar, the muffled notes of Jeff’s keyboard, Gareth’s battle march, or the dark piece Eddie played when he introduced an object of interest; your focus muddled with the jokes, the lore, the alcohol. The whiskey burned less, and the oaky honey thrived. You surrendered to the passage of time–interrupted, briefly, when the man sat opposite you answered every one of the boy’s questions with a riddle, and his rascally cackle at their irritation stole another piece of your heart. Falling deeper, and deeper. And deeper for him.
~~~
The early witching hours feasted on the weary adults who were no longer able to pull all-nighters. The game was over for now, and the group packed their things away.
Max asked you, “Did you have fun?”
“Yes!” you blurted. “I didn’t really know what I was getting into, but the atmosphere was so cool. Eddie really knows how to put on a show, huh? And hey, finding fragments of a dragon’s egg shell in a game called Dungeons and Dragons was pretty neat.”
Her laugh brought music to her affirmation, “Yeah, he’s a pretty good DM, and we’ve been hunting the dragons for two years now. Do you think you’ll play with us next month?”
“Totally!”
“Nice.”
Lucas dragged his hand down her arm, and placed the black and neon pink windbreaker in her awaiting palm. She zipped it over her cozy college sweatshirt. They were at the back of the congestion, shuffling around the living room, straying behind the chaos of stumbling adults doubling over to laugh at their clumsiness and inability to find their shoe’s match.
While waiting, you watched several of the guys clasp Eddie’s shoulder as they passed, and placed money in his hand. Oh. Shit. Your gaze snapped to the scattered stack of pizza boxes in the kitchen, and shame licked your cheeks. It never occurred to you to pay for your share.
Quickly, you found your puffer jacket under Mike’s raincoat, and wrangled some cash from the pockets. Your stride went wobbly between the table, chairs, couch, shoes, and bumbling grownups in the cramped trailer, but you squeezed your way to him. He was beginning his goodbyes smushed against the breakfast bar, not quite able to reach the front door just yet.
“Here,” you said, shoving a crumpled $20 at his arm.
Pausing his conversation with Jeff, he twisted to see you over the curve of his shoulder, and absorbed your apologetic face before noticing the money. His lips ticced at the corners. His nostrils flared with a soft snort. Amusement crinkled at the corner of his eyes. “Not from you,” he said. “Why don’t you go check on Adrie for me?”
“Oh.” A confused, maybe disappointed ‘oh.’ “If you’re sure.”
Fighting an internal battle, you stuffed the $20 in your jeans, and held true to your frown. You were about to argue, but your brain registered what he’d asked you to do. “Adrie!” you whispered excitedly, and made finger guns towards the bedroom.
You scurried (yes, scurried) off, and left Eddie to fend for himself.
Jeff was twisting his hand around his chin in mock rumination. “She doesn’t have to pay, hmm?”
“Not my place to comment,” Gareth said, about to make a comment, “but maybe you should think about cashing in those benefits.” He paused, drunkenness slowing him into a contemplative stare. “Or at least fu–”
“Anyway!” Erica saved the situation by pushing past all of them to wrench the door open. “Well.. that sucks.”
Icy flakes floated in pendulum swings to the ground, where they stuck.
Eddie stood on his tip-toes to study the severeness over his friend’s heads. The weather appeared to be in its mild beginnings, not yet falling in a considerable sheet from the sky, but still, he was a dad, and he was prone to worrying. The party hardly finished lacing up their shoes, and he was making them promise they’d call him as soon as they got home. They’d barely walked down the steps, and he was there at the bottom, holding his arm out. “Seriously, call me as soon as you get home,” he warned each household.
And it was only once the last car’s tail lights trailed red streaks over the main road, he went inside.
The trailer wept with emptiness. Remnants of being fulfilled remained–the trash, the lingering body heat, and stuffy air–but it sighed with loneliness. The trailer was pent up. In need of decompressing after the hours of putting on a show, and in a constant state of overthinking, entertaining his friends while fighting the itch deep in his chest that said ‘I wish none of these people were here except for you.’
The trailer longed for you, searching the couch, the card table, the kitchen where the bottle of whiskey was left behind. The trailer sought you in the corners of its belly, its lungs, its head, leaving the heart for last.
Eddie pushed open the bedroom door, and you were not in his daughter's bed. He lurched further into the room. Needy for the heart. And he found it. He found his home..
A pair of adult legs stuck out from the entrance to the blanket fort.
Judging by the angle of your feet and your knee tucked into the other, you were laying on your side. The powder pink bedsheet gathered in folds around your lower thighs. Strings of Christmas lights pressed against the shelter, and the TV flicked bright colors as it played a movie on a low volume.
Daring, his fingertips encountered the coarse weave of your jeans on his way to lift the bedsheet keeping your sleeping form separated from his greedy gaze. Stealing moments where he could be learning your face, placed a precious snore away from his daughter’s, sharing the pillow with her curls and unicorn hugged to her chin. Inhaling silently, and exhaling in a quick breath, not yet catching the sound in your throat akin to a mumbly whine at the dream playing under your twitching eyelids.
The sheet draped the back of his neck.
Risking, he traced the rugged outer seam of your jeans. Starting at your printed socks, and traveling up your calf, over the rigid mountain peaks of stiff fabric creased around your knee, and discovering the squish of your leg under his prodding. His eyes were trained on your face. He slipped his palm over your upper thigh. A gentle warmth of his presence. Next, he cupped the curve of your knee, fitting it into his hand, and he continued his stroke downwards, tightening his fingers to your shin, and stopping to squeeze your ankle. You didn’t stir.
He shifted closer, widening his stand and ducking under the canopy to reach your face.
Leaning over you, he anchored his balance to your hip, relaxing his hold on the arch of bone shaped like a strung bow, and dragged his other knuckles along your cheek. Three fingers worth. Three opportunities for him to press his skin to your hairline, and brush them along the flat plane before the adorable round apples he knew to be relaxed under the surface while you dozed.
You were soft. So unexpectedly soft.
Courageous, smooth peach fuzz welcomed a fourth knuckle. A simple sweep of the back of his hand to your face. Feeling you. All of you. Insatiable.
His breathing grew heavier at the hunger.
Stomach clenching from the craving of more.
Heart, starved.
It was animalistic, but you weren’t afraid. No, you weren’t afraid when you twitched and slapped at your cheek, expecting a fly to be tickling you in your sleep, but as you awoke, you prodded at the confusing obstruction, and glided your fingers along the underside of his. Plump ridges punctuated by hard calluses with scratchy outlines. You recognized them by touch alone, and fought through the pain of your bloodshot eyes to peer up at the man looming above you, and yawned.
“No boys allowed,” you whispered through the groggy haze.
Oh, he nearly let his tipsy tongue admit too much to your dopey grin.
Eddie could tell he was smiling hard enough his vision suffered from his encroaching cheeks. His eyes were inundated by his happiness, nearly closed to slits from how hard he beamed when he slid from gaze from you, to his daughter who enacted the ‘No Boys’ rule, and to you again. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, withdrawing.
He helped you stand. With difficulty. The whiskey hurled you into a premature REM cycle, and without consideration, he roused you from its depths. In your drowsy state, you clung to him for stability, depending on his chest to support you. Not that he was complaining. He was reliable, compensating for your swaying by grasping your upper arms, and teasing you with a, “Whoa there, silly.”
Stood outside the closed bedroom, there was not a chance for gaps to stop your lower inhibitions. Alone, you were together. In the same hallway where there was a thrifted painting of a lake scene hung beside the bathroom, a shelf with a set of wooden ducks amongst the ceramic knick knacks, a doorway where he ate his oatmeal while watching you and Adrie play. Those points of interest were all there; you were familiar with them, even if you struggled to open your eyes.
You fawned over him, snickering at nothing until your features tensed into confusion, not understanding the bits of ice clinging to the fibers of his hoodie, scraping at them with your fingernail. You collapsed into him more, leaning your forearms on his steady frame, rising and falling, accepting the lullaby of his pleased hum. The very outline of your torso discovered his, giving him a taste of your warmth; comforting you both with the actuality of such a thing. You skimmed your fingers up to his hair, picking at the sloshy liquid burdening the ends of his curls. “Why’re you wet?” you mumbled.
“It’s snowing,” he repeated from earlier, when the rush of standing whooshed in your ears, rendering him an otherworldly voice from beyond. “It’s not bad, but like hell I’m about to let you bike home in it. If you wanna give me some time to eat and have a cup of coffee, I can sober up and drive you, sweet girl,” he finished like hot honey.
You circled your palms over his pecs with the lack of awareness a blissfully buzzed person would for the lone reason of wanting to experience the texture of his hoodie burn your skin from the friction. “But wouldn’t you have to wake Adrie up to bring her with us?”
“I would, but she’ll be fine. She’ll probably fall asleep in the car.”
“No, no, no,” you shushed him, losing your merry smile for the first time in hours. “Robin’s working very, very, very late tonight. She’ll probably be off her shift soon. She can pick me up. And my bike can fit in her trunk, unlike your tiny car.” Many of your words mushed together from your drowsy, drowsy, drowsy imploring.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah! I’ll call her, and hey, we can clean up while she’s on her way.” When his expression was less than enthused at the suggestion, you waggled your eyebrows, and bit your bottom lip, enticing him. “We can make it fun,” you tried. “You know, we’ll play music, drink some more, eat whatever pizza’s left.” You walked your fingers up his shoulders, and he smoothed his hands around your wrists, flattening your palms to his clavicle.
Eddie lowered his head until he managed to peer at you through his lashes, asking a condescending, but lighthearted question, “That’s what you wanna do? Help me clean?”
You reaffirmed, “It’ll be fun.”
“Fine by me, sweetheart. Go call Buckley.”
The plans were put on pause while you called the back office of the grocery store, but after a short conversation, and many twirls of the cord around your finger, your voice lightened with relief, “Thank you so, so much. I love you.”
You hung up, and spun around to tell Eddie the fabulous news.
The two glass tumblers on the kitchen counter were assuming. Filled with ice cubes from the blue plastic tray in the sink, and situated in front of the opened whiskey. There was a decent amount left–a fourth of the entire bottle, probably–and he didn’t need to hear you repeat Robin’s message about her getting off work soon to unscrew the cap and begin pouring.
No distinct emotion crossed his face when divided an even shot into each of the smokey gray glasses, and paused the bottle above yours to ask, “So, what kind of drunk are you?”
The ice cracked and popped as it melted.
“Giggly, touchy,” you supposed.
He tipped the bottle and added another healthy shot to yours. You raised your eyebrows at his boldness, and scoffed out the same question, “What kind of drunk are you?”
“Hm.” He propped his hand on the counter, and cocked his hip out, staring out into the living room. You studied his side profile from where you stayed by the telephone, most notably how his light wash jeans gathered around the bulk of his zipper again; hoodie tucked behind the handcuff belt buckle. The weathered silver metal glinted an edge of orange from the lamp beside the microwave, shifting as he rocked his weight to his other foot. “Stupid, I think,” he said finally. “I make stupid decisions, ‘nd shit.”
“Are you trying to make stupid decisions tonight?”
His features kicked up, and instead of giving you a verbal answer, he brought the bottle up and dropped his head back.
“Eddie!” you gawked.
Your mouth hung open in awe, stunned into silently watching the bubbles race to the top of the amber liquid chugging ever closer to the neck of the bottle being strangled in his white-knuckled grip. His eyes were screwed shut, body tensed and struggling to finish it off, lips pursed in a kiss around the opening. Each gulp sent his Adam’s apple jumping.
He threw his head forward. The bottle slammed on the counter, final sips of liquid sloshing in waves along the bottom. He caught the dribble falling from his chin with his sleeve, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. All of him shuddered. Teeth bared as he grimaced through the burn, eyebrows furrowed in mild regret.
After the last jerk of shoulders battling the aftershocks of disgust, you mimicked his parental exasperation, “What in the world are you doing?”
Making a stupid decision.
A tight line of water flooded his eyes. He ran his fingers over his shy smile, turning to look at you with a particular brand of sheepishness usually reserved for teenagers who were trying to impress their friends. “I only had two drinks the entire night. I’m just catching up to you.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He agreed.
“Bobbie’s still gonna be a while,” you said on your way to grabbing your drink, now wondering if you were going to be the more sober one in half an hour. “Shall we get to cleaning?”
He lifted his tumbler by picking it up by the rim and clinked it to yours, but refrained from taking a sip when you did. Thankfully. “Wayne’s got some jazz records in the crate next to the record player, where the TV is.. Well, where the TV was. On that cabinet beside his bed.. If you’d just.. Look over there.. Okay, why are you staring at me?”
Memorizing the freckle of the side of his nose to your heart’s content, you shrugged. “You blush a lot.”
“Do not,” he denied in a mutter. He felt his cheek, poking and prodding and smashing at the skin being tugged down by his pouty frown. “It’s just the alcohol.”
“Ah.”
You sipped, swallowed, and snickered on your way to the record player cabinet, weaving through the staggered chairs untucked from the table. You laughed again. Just the alcohol, he said. Yet, he’d been flushed red all night. Or, at least, since he bragged about his seven inches.
~~~
The soundtrack for cleaning was a 25th Anniversary edition of a label’s best live performances over the years.
Various artists scored the yucky business of folding and stacking the chairs against a spare wall, trying not to envision a spider popping out at any moment from where it may be laying in wait under the seats. A fun upbeat tambourine number played when Eddie knocked over Wayne’s beard trimmer in the bathroom. Wondrous vocals warbled against your game of wadding up the used napkins and tossing them at the trashcan, while Eddie flung the paper plates like frisbees until both of you tired, and threw them away as normal. Brass horns vibrated under your hands and knees as you crawled around on the floor, finding all the crushed beer cans. Lazy drum beats coaxed both of your languid movements into the sort of drunken erraticism that came from being buzzed, gesturing without much consideration for sharp corners, or breakable things. He packed away his miniatures while you wiped down the counters, and he washed the dishes while you attempted to sweep up crumbs from the grid table cloth and fold it into a neat-ish square.
The record stopped.
A break ensued. You drank the rest of your whiskey, and Eddie searched every pizza box, divvying out the last slices for you to share over wordless respite, heads drooping, chewing slowly.
After washing the greasy cornmeal from his hands, and wiping the flour from around his mouth, he suggested, “Why don’t you put on the yellow record? Third from the end, on the left.”
You found the one he spoke of–golden yellow–and put the needle to it.
Together, you hauled out the dense vintage couch the few inches it required; done in dozens of centimeters, yanking on the ugly upholstery until your fingernails ached, and arms gave up. Eddie was rushing you, annoyingly so. Hurrying on in anguish, the table was flipped on its side, and its legs folded in. It was stuffed against the wall after some difficulty (the mugs remained intact), and after shoving the hulking piece of furniture to close the gap, you fell to the lumpy cushions with an exhausted groan.
You went boneless. Arms and legs landing wherever. Head lulling to the side. Eyes closed. Relaxed. Drifting off to the place where you were in the blanket fort at an alarming rate..
The song switched.
“May I have this dance?”
You opened your eyes.
Eddie’s hand came into focus. He was bent at the waist, extending an invitation. Reciprocating. Making true on his promise for the dance he owed you. It seemed so long ago; back when you knew him as a single dad who was private about his personal life. Now you knew. You knew his home, his past, his trauma, his notebook, his friends, his band, his daughter’s favorite stuffed toy named Fluff. You knew his pizza order (cheese with black olives), his favorite color (deep, sultry red), his laundry detergent (Cheer Free for extra sensitive skin). You knew his body temperature ran like a furnace, you knew the knot of pink scar tissue on the meat of his thumb, you knew the shimmery flecks of butterscotch in his eyes when he went teary. In the span of a few days, you knew him better than you did weeks ago, before Christmas.
You took his hand. He helped you stand, and in a brave exhale, he held you in timeless elegance.
It wasn’t like the dance before, where you minded the respectable distance two coworkers should. No. He still clasped your right hand in his left, sure, but from there the similarities to waltzing in the garage differed. Reservation did not stop at the top of his neck, or his bicep–you switched your friendly clasp from those safe areas, to introducing your torsos, and pinning his arm under yours in effort to reach the middle of his back. He enveloped your waist, coaxing your hips together with woozy enthusiasm. Close, close, close. Handcuff belt buckle catching on your jean’s zipper at each pass until you began to sway in aching unison to Frank Sinatra’s Somethin’ Stupid.
You empathized with the heady flush pinkening the bulbous tip of his nose, and gazed into his eyes. Or tried. His eyelids fell in sluggish blinks, and his envious lashes refused to part. The sway was a shuffle. Your head was swimming. Failing to focus on one particular thing before your vision went cross, and the room spun, despite standing almost still.
It didn’t take long for either of you to surrender.
Rocking side to side–no turning, no pivoting–you accepted the innate desire to rest your head on his chest, and even from a distance, his pulse beat against your ear. Hard pumps of lifeblood under your cheek laid flat on the faded black hoodie. If you looked the other way, you’d see the jean vest reeking of cigarette smoke thrown on the couch where he discarded it before asking you to dance, but you chose to admire your joined hands. Preferring to learn the dry skin where a scrape was healing on his thumb knuckle–how small your thumb was in comparison to the single stretch of bone until the next joint, and his blunt nail. Maybe he was admiring such a thing too, because he stretched his fingers and curled them snugger to yours, and he set his chin atop your head, learning another new intimacy.
You melted under the burden of his weight.
He exposed the issue of your hair catching on the stubble of his five o’clock shadow.
You craned your head against the grain, and he nuzzled his chin harder.
Two people discovering their deprived yearns.
The sweetness of being crooked into the hollow of his body. The possession of snagging a full grip of his hoodie between your fingers, and becoming the reason he filled his lungs. Existing around him. And he existed in you, in all the unexplored corners, and you dusted the cobwebs from his. Fulfilling the dark places. Giving them light, and acceptance. Sharing the slice of night before it turned day. Swaying, rocking, swimming together in an inebriated dance under a tin roof, under the sprinkling snow, under the opaque clouds, under the crescent moon, under the twinkling stars. Under the universes, and hypothetical alternate dimensions and timelines, and as attractive as they seemed, you wouldn’t choose a different one. This is the one. This is the exact dimension, the exact timeline you wanted.
No longer wishing to lead, Eddie closed your fingers into a soft fist, and placed your hand over his heart, cupping his palm over it and stressing the thousands of unspoken words in his squeeze.
Basking in the minutes stretching to hours, the music looped into a perfect eternity.
It was getting late, almost time to leave, you guessed.
You withdrew your head. Eddie lifted his. The spot his chin once resided on your scalp ran abnormally cold from the loss, and there must’ve been an imprint of wrinkled fabric on your cheek, because that’s where his eyes landed first on their journey to meet your resilient gaze.
The beginnings of his lopsided grin emerged.
He spoke, and it was a single word. “Yeah.”
You didn’t know why he said it, or what he meant, but in this moment, in his arms, with your hand nestled between his and his heart, you agreed, “Yeah.” This was special. Whatever this was, this was special.
A huff of laughter broke through your smile, and his. Giggly silliness.
You were embraced from the top of your thighs, through to the slight proposal of your hips, and ending at the acute strength of your arms pressing each other closer.
Eddie raised your hand from his heart to his face. His thumb ensured your fingers stayed curled in, barring you from investing in a full, unadulterated touch. Wisps of his hair traced your skin. His exhale snaked down your flannel sleeve. Your inner wrist stopped at the slick junction of his lips, where he had swiped his tongue over out of nervous habit.
Oddly, he tapped your hand a few times to his cheek.
It made you curious. You copied him, bringing his hand to your face. Hooked your thumb under his sleeve to expose his wrist, and tapped it to your cheek. Ah, you understood.
Such delicate, unscarred skin brushed against the ridges of your lips, each tap like a kiss along the edge of your lovesick simper. Closer to a kiss than anything you’d experienced with him before. Still so tender, and so pure.
“Yeah?” A raw tremble was present in your question; gone shy from the profoundness of the single word, and fearing you were attributing the wrong meaning behind something so little, yet so large in your relationship.
But he saw the doubt, and he reassured you, “Yeah.” By the wetness glossing over his eyes, he reassured you your assumptions weren’t wrong. He whispered it again, softer, to where the one syllable croaked out, “Yeah.”
This was special.
The alcohol sat like candor on your tongue. “Wanna know a secret?” you teased as you let go of his wrist, and guided your hands up to his nape, linking your fingers over the bulky hood prohibiting you from playing with the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck. He slung his arm around your waist, over top of the other, encompassing you in a true hug.
He squinted at you. “How drunk are you? Don’t go tellin’ me somethin’ you’ll regret in the morning.”
“It’s nothing like that, I swear.” There was a flirty whine to your pitch, and even flirtier breathiness to your voice. Encouraging him to maintain the sway, leading him side to side, foot to foot, taking advantage of flow to put an arch in your back, and rise onto the balls of your feet, undetected. Your heart skipped at the proximity. “You know how I said my top three favorite people were Robin, Adrie, and then you?” you reminded him. “That’s actually backwards.. I said it backwards. It’s actually you, Adrie, and then Robin. But don’t tell her that.”
His mouth hung open to respond, but his gaze was off, discerning something behind you in the distance. When he centered on you again, there was a new kindness to the wrinkles framing his handsome face. “Are you okay with sharing my number one spot?”
“I would be honored.”
“Good,” he emphasized, “I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t want to be my favorite.”
“I always want to be your favorite,” you preened.
The innocence slipped from his expression. He’d never heard you sound quite so needy, or eager to be something of his, and the effects were sudden and poorly timed.
Outside, rocks skidded on the cracked pavement. A car turning in from the main road sunk into a pothole, and bounced out. The music spinning on the record player crescendoed. The fluorescent bulbs in the lamps hummed with electricity. Scents of acidic tomato sauce and oregano were inescapable. Tiny pellets of hail pinged on the tin roof. You both looked up, listening to it pass after a drifty-cloud moment.
Eddie concentrated on keeping your chests together. His forearms dug into your waist as he found the best way to lock his grip. He dipped his head lower when you had no choice but to lean up, and into him. “If I give you my number, will you call me when you get home, so I know you made it safe?”
Every consonant and vowel vibrated in your skull, thrumming velvety richness through the daze.
“I already have your number,” you said amongst the warmth building, and building behind your rib cage.
He faltered, confused. “You have my number?”
“Mhm, an even bigger birdie told me.”
Both bewildered by the callback, and having a tendency to fall head over heels for anything and everything you did, regardless if it was an unsatisfying answer or not, Eddie snorted, and scrunched his face, observing you with all the judgment you earned. “That’s either really creepy, or really endearing.”
You dropped your gaze to his crooked smile, and the car approaching the blue and white trailer faded away.
His lips were gorgeous. Overly full, and a wonderful shade of fleshy red with a tint of pink. They were bitten. Chewed on when his nerves got the best of him. Behind them, the edges of his teeth showed. Above them, you put your energy into obsessing over his overly large nose, as you had in many instances, but never at this distance, able to see every pore, every freckle, every splotch, and realizing this could become a normal occurrence, being this close.
His eyes were overly large as well, and they followed each micro-tic of yours.
“Good thing you find me endearing, then,” you provoked.
He loved that response.
“I do,” he chased. “I do,” he gave in. The willpower to resist his urges crumbled at the admission. He pressed his forehead to yours, and conceded until his mouth ached with happiness, “I find you so endearing.”
The alcohol dulled the intimate gesture. The top layers of your skin were numb. You had to work harder to feed the starvation; grinding your forehead against his, digging deeper to feel the itch of his bangs stuck to the glisten of boozy sweat. Sliding your nose alongside his, smashing the tips to each other’s cheeks. Sharing the same breaths, panting feathery sighs into each other’s mouths. Then, another carnal bump of noses, clumsy and misaligned, and a hard rut bone on bone until your bodies tingled with satisfaction. Satiated. Full.
Eddie turned his groan into a ragged, “I fucking adore you.”
“I adore you, too,” you promised, on the verge of crying and not knowing why.
He pulled away, dragging the tip of his nose up the side of yours, and tracing it down, allowing them to stay connected for a moment longer. A cooldown while your stomach flipped, and your pulse raced. I adore you.
The whole thing was strange to do with your coworker, especially with your hands remaining latched where they were, and there was no grinding elsewhere; it was just sheer lust for touch. Mutual, too.
His overly large pupils bored into yours. Neither of you had appropriate commentary on what transpired, probably for the better.
A car engine rumbled outside.
“Yeah, I’m pretty toasted, I think,” you said.
He pinched his eyebrows in, and pursed his lips. “Think I am, too.”
Either way, it was a good excuse for you almost moaning his name, and him choosing to hinge his phrase on adore, as if the endearment couldn’t be swapped out, and suddenly, the entire sentiment would have changed. It would be a confession.
There was a knock on the door, and Robin’s voice came muffled, but the urgency of being stuck out in the cold was conveyed.
Both of you hastened separating yourselves, and fumbled around each other.
Always, Eddie was a gentleman and helped you put on your jacket after you argued he was way more plastered than you were, despite you being the one doubled over with your hands on your knees, wobbling, disoriented after reaching down for it. He made sure you were dressed before going outside. Zipped you all the way to your chin, even when you complained it looked dorky. He lined your shoes up for you, and waited for you with his eyes closed, drifting off to a dream while standing up.
He handed you off to Robin, and loaded her trunk with your bike. For whatever reason, you didn’t climb inside the car yet. You waited in the snow for him. Collecting glittery flakes on your eyelashes, inhaling the fresh, crisp air. Probably quelling the nausea, same as he was, taking gulps of oxygen while he blinked, and blinked, searching the swirling images for something his brain could comprehend to get it to stop.
You waited for him, never saying anything. In heavy steps, he came to you, and wedged his fingers under the door handle, popping open the latch with an expression of wryness, as if you expected him to open every door for you.
Which, he would, for the record.
Stopping you before you sat, he grabbed at your jacket and bent himself to you, no longer afraid to press the cold tip of his nose to the shell of your ear, and drag his lips over the peach fuzz as he spoke directly to you. “Call me,” he stressed against your shiver.
“I will.”
At that, he shut your door and Robin began backing out of his driveway, stunting his wave goodbye from the headlights blinding him. He moved to the stairs, then to the top of the landing to watch the car drive around the soft bend around the trailers, and out onto the highway, leaving him behind.
He entered the trailer, and it was full.
It felt full, anyway. In his stomach, his chest, behind his eyelids, in the dusty corners, in the mortal hollows, manifesting a tightness in his throat, and a contradictory heaviness to his weightlessness, floating on clouds after spending an entire day with his crush and ending it with I adore you.
Eddie brushed his hair back, neatening the tangles wetted by ice. He combed his bangs off his forehead, and drove his fingers against his scalp, leaving his hands on top of his head, stripping himself of the extra stimulation to hone in on the persistent throb between his brows where you staked your claim.
You had made your home there, and he couldn’t wait for your return.
“Jesus Christ.”
With his woolgathering out of the way, he went to where Adrie was half-asleep in the doorway to her bedroom, and he crouched onto his knees. “Were you watching us dance?”
Wrapped in a blanket and sitting slumped over, she nodded against the wood frame, and sucked in the drool threatening to spill over her bottom lip. Only having the energy to open her eyes a smidge, she still found it within herself to have gripes with him. “You didn’t let me say bye.”
“I’m sorry,” he pouted in a silly deep voice.
Stooping further, he worked his arm under her legs, and collected the sleepy bundle that was his daughter to his chest. He shuffled along on his knees over to the fort, and man, did he understand why you fell asleep so easily in the blanket nest. Just the accidental touches when he set Adrie down called to him, as did the bleating sheep hopping over fences in his head. It was enticing.. but the phone was ringing, and the first check in of the night as calling.
He knew it wasn’t you, but his heart leapt all the same.
“Sorry the phone might ring a lot,” he said. “Do you want another movie on? I’ll put another move on so it doesn’t wake you, okay?”
She scrunched her nose in a bad way, not like he did when he was laughing. Probably from the alcohol on his breath, and his waning coherency.
He stowed away his kisses for now. “Sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye, but I promise you, I promise you, okay? Miss Mouse will be back soon.” That was the heaviness in his chest. The decision. “I’ll invite her over, and we can all play together, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” she mumbled, loosening her grasp on his hair.
She was out, and he paced the kitchen while he chatted to stay awake.
————
Eddie sat at the small green table with his head resting back against the peeling wallpaper. A single light above the wrap-around counter skimmed the belly of the trailer. It traced the bubbles slipping down the bottle in front of him, and glanced the top of his pillow on the couch, submitting to the darkness past his plaid blanket waiting for him. The phone cord draped over his shoulder, down to his chest. The last call was half an hour ago. Maybe? He knew his last swig of whiskey was seconds ago. Everyone had checked in, and his ability to show an ounce of self-control was forfeited to the sheep. In his final blink, his body went lax, and he passed out.
Though, he could always count on the clangy ring to cut through their bleats.
Jolting awake, he searched above him for the phone, knocking it off the hook before it disturbed Adrie.
He was disoriented.
“Hello?”
Quiet as a mouse, a voice came, “Hey.”
He sat up. Alertness spread through him in waves, rippling from the decision sitting hot on his tongue, and stirring deeper, lower. Your greeting was filtered by the tiny microphone caged in yellowed plastic, but the dozy, sweltering rasp was there. “Hey, sweetheart,” he answered in kind, and inhaled deeply before the blood loss in his brain rendered him lightheaded.
One word in and he was wiping his palm on his jeans, and keeping it there, on his thigh.
“Sorry it took me so long,” you apologized in a whisper. “I wanted to wait until everyone went to sleep. I’m in the living room. In the dark.” You giggled as if it were a joke he should be in on.
He peeked behind him to make sure the bedroom door was shut, and wrenched the phone against his lips to stifle his own laughter. “Yeah? I’m sitting in the dark, too.”
You hummed.
He didn’t know if you were making a pass at him by mentioning you were alone as he was, so he chose something innocuous to comment on, bouncing the ball in your court. “You sound tired, baby. You should go to bed.”
“But my bed’s cold,” you whined.
Bingo.
Risks were worth taking as long as you participated.
In a matter of quick exchanges, he had his palm between his thighs, running his fingernails down the coarse fabric of his jeans and cupping the heft. “My bed’s cold too,” he matched your pitch, exploring his thumb upwards.
“If you were here, mine wouldn’t have to be..”
“But you live in someone else’s parent’s attic,” he teased.
“And your bed’s a couch,” you shot back.
He checked the closed door behind him one more time, and yielded, “You’re right.” You liked being right. He liked it when you were right. Your grin tinted all your pretty words when you were right. Well, they would, if you were speaking. “Babe?”
“Sorry, that was quick,” you said, struggling through a yawn after nodding off. “I’m laying on the recliner, and it’s really comfy.”
“Then go to sleep,” he implored in a chastising snicker.
You grunted.
Except, it didn’t sound like the other grunts and groans he’d heard you make over the months. This one was sweeter, higher, similar to the airy catch in your throat when your bottom lip dragged on his stubble. A moan of his name, he hoped. He twitched against the warmth of his palm. Growing rapidly under the first strokes of his thumb encouraging his descent, half-hard just at the thought.
How much whiskey he had was of no concern when it came to you. Clearly.
He couldn’t stop his appetite from lowering his voice, “Whatcha doin’, sweet girl?”
You turned it back on him, “What are you doing?” And when he was busy rearranging how he sat to give his jeans some slack to wrap his thick fingers around himself, you mused with an evident smirk, “Touching your orc dagger?”
Goddamnit. “If you ever bring that up again, I swear..”
“You must be, with how you’re avoiding the question.” You muffled your giggle–probably with your shirt collar, if he had to guess. Teasing him more, you slurred, “S’okay. I saw how hard you were staring at my shirt earlier. Just thought you’d like to know I’m not wearing it anymore. Not wearing a bra either.”
You’re right. He did like knowing that. So much, in fact, he smoothed his fingers in a long tug along his length, stroking twice over the sensitive head, and repeating.
“Not wearing anything?” he asked, sounding a bit more husky than he intended.
“Just the flannel. Gotta be a little dressed.. in case someone comes in.” You shifted in the middle of your sentence, and at first Eddie pictured you turning onto your back. Imagining your tits shifting against the flannel, and their subtle bounce as you got comfortable. How hard your nipples pressed to the fabric, and what they must feel like being licked and sucked into his mouth, and all the beautiful noises you’d make for him. Unfortunately..
“Touchin’ yourself for me, sweetheart?” Nothing.. “Sweetheart?” Oh.. “You fall asleep again?”
An actual grunt, maybe a hiccup, or a snore created static on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry,” you sincerely apologized.
Poor sweet thing. “Tell you what,” he reasoned. “Why don’t you go to bed, and think about how nice it’d be for me to be there with you; how warm I am. And I’ll take a shower, and do the same.”
You asked, “You mean you’re gonna think about me while in the shower?”
He squeezed himself. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. There was no fucking way either of you’d remember this by Monday morning. It was kinda thrilling; obeying the allure, and teasing each other without consequence.
“Nice.”
“Mhmm.”
Eddie closed his eyes in the following silence. The fantasy drifted to something tender. Sharing a bed. Waking up next to you. The alcohol made it difficult to remember why you called, and fathom why he was holding a conversation. His own hand went slack around the part his heart pumped blood to. The urge passed. The desire to brush his teeth replaced the lust. He was drunk, and he was losing the battle to remain conscious.
His body slouched ever forward.
“Eddie?”
“Hmm?”
“I can’t stay awake.”
“Neither can I..” Not that it mattered, but before the conversation ended and he summoned the strength to collapse on the couch instead of the green table for the sole reason of never wanting his daughter to discover him passed out in the kitchen from drinking too much, he heeded the heaviness in his chest. The decision. And he told you, “By the way, I thought of what to do for that ‘thank you’ I owe you. It’s time I pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”
Processing his words at a slower rate, a few moments ticked by before the intrigue ate at you. “And what’s that, handsome?”
He smiled. “It’s a surprise.”
You snorted. “It’ll be a surprise if either of us remember anything after I failed nine rolls in a row, and you chugged.. Fuck, however much whiskey you’ve had. I don’t even wanna know.”
In a night of stupid decisions, he committed to one more; the joke was too good to not tumble past his loose lips, “Not enough to stop my orc dagger from growing seven inches.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, that was awful. I’m never calling you again. Goodbye.”
The speed at which you hung up sent him doubled over, clutching his aching stomach. He tried to keep quiet, really. He held onto his dignity just long enough to take three attempts to hang up the phone, and then it hit him with reckless abandon. He slapped his hand over his gaping mouth, and shook until the breathless gasps came out in squeaks, ugly laughing at his own stupid joke. He rocked back and forth, almost hitting his forehead on the table, and only caught his breath when tears brimmed his lashes, and he remembered his forehead was sacred, and he should stop. If he hit it, it’d be like an earthquake to your home. Except, that imagery also made him giggle, and he was at it again. Biting his tongue to subdue his outbursts while he stretched out on the couch cushions which rubbed his skin raw everytime he changed position. Finally, he was at peace. He tried to forget about the impending hangover he was going to have to explain to Wayne, and instead, he thought about you, and let his daydream take him to a fantasy where he could wake up next to you. And if he went through with his decision, maybe it could become a reality.
No. Not if. He would. He would go through with it. Probably. If you asked about it, he would, definitely. If you didn’t, he’d.. he’d still do it. He couldn’t keep living like this.
However, for both your sakes, he hoped neither of you remembered this night come Monday morning.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#mechanic!eddie#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#the yes policy
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Meddle About (Part 1)
P: Captain Price x F!Reader
Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a pub and begin a beautiful friendship. Though you start developing feelings for the older man, he doesn't seem to reciprocate. That is, until you flirt with someone else to test the waters.
NSFW part 2 here.
WC: 2.3k words
CW: Nothing other than some angst (light), age difference and jealousy.
Notes: The age of the Reader is mentioned only because I feel uncomfortable writing about an age difference where X person is under the age of 23-25.
@glitterypirateduck
You stumbled into the pub, your heart heavy and your mind clouded with the weight of your breakup. The air was thick with the aroma of alcohol and the sound of muted conversations. You sought solace in the dimly lit corner, choosing a table far from prying eyes, hoping to drown your sorrows alone.
As you sat there, lost in your own misery, your gaze wandered aimlessly to the booth next to yours until it landed on him, the older man sitting alone, his presence almost ghostly in the shadows. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, drinking a glass of whiskey with a distant look in his eyes.
At first, you paid him no mind, too consumed by your own despair to acknowledge anyone else's existence. But then, just as the ache in your chest threatened to overwhelm you completely, a notification on your phone pushed you over the edge. It was a message from your ex, a cruel reminder to pick up your things from his apartment.
With a choked sob, you buried your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought. And then, as if sensing your despair, the older man's voice cut through the haze of your misery.
"Are you alright, love?" He asked, his words gentle and filled with genuine concern.
Startled, you lifted your head to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. His face came into focus, and you found yourself momentarily captivated by the sight of blue eyes, the ruggedness of his features softened by a hint of kindness. He extended a napkin towards you, a silent offering to wipe away your tears.
For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of whether to trust this stranger even with such an innocent gesture. But something in his demeanor, the warmth in his gaze, made you lower your defenses.
And so, with a shaky breath, you accepted, allowing the soft material to soak up whatever was left of your relationship.
As the night dragged on, the heaviness in your heart began to ease, replaced by a sense of relief as you found comfort in conversation with the stranger. He didn't speak much, but his attentive listening spoke volumes.
You found yourself pouring out your heart to him, recounting the details of your breakup, the betrayal, the lies, the countless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, wondering what you had done to deserve such treatment.
Were you ruining his night out? Was he growing tired of your rambling? Was he secretly wishing for an escape from your company?
Your overthinking vanished every time you looked into his eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest and compassion staring back at you.
The hours slipped away and the pub grew quieter, you realized that this stranger had become more than just a sympathetic ear. And though you couldn't quite put it into words, you knew that his presence had brought you a sense of peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.
As the night progressed, you learned that he was a military man, a Captain stationed at a base just twenty minutes away. His hesitance to get into the specifics of his job only added to the air of mystery surrounding him but you respected his boundaries, content to learn other parts of his personality. It wasn't like you'd understand much of the military life anyway.
In between sips of beer, you discovered common ground in unexpected places. He spoke passionately about his love for football, declaring his support to Liverpool with pride and that sparked playful banter between the two of you, given your loyalty to Manchester United. And then there was his love for 70s rock music, a good old Sunday roast and his German Shepherd named Bucky.
Everything he uttered seemed to captivate you. But it wasn't just his words that kept you staring in awe. It was the way he carried himself, the undeniable aura of strength and confidence that followed him.
His strong, masculine features were impossible to ignore. The full beard that hugged his face and trailed down to his neck, the small charming beauty mark on his nose, his ocean blue shaded eyes.. There was no force im the world that could tear your gaze away from him.
Despite being seated, he seemed to tower over most in the room, his tall frame accentuated by his broad shoulders and defined physique with thighs barely fitting under the table.
Each time your eyes met, you felt a rush of excitement, a flutter in your chest that you couldn't quite explain.
He definitely noticed, there was no doubt about it. You caught him watching you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips but he never made a point of it. It was as if he welcomed your attention, basking in the way you were taking him in yet never crossing the line between polite conversation and flirting.
Around two after midnight, the pub began to empty out, leaving only you and the interesting stranger as the sole costumers.
Stepping outside, the chill of the rain hit you both, shimmering under the moonlight as it landed on the darkened street below and he wasted no time in offering you his coat.
You protested but he insisted, draping it over your head as you both dashed towards your car. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking him through and yet he seemed unaffected, almost as if he enjoyed the feeling of the water against his skin or perhaps in a way to make the night last a little bit longer.
As you turned the ignition, a sudden realization struck you. In the midst of the conversation, you had forgotten the most basic of exchanges. Names.
"Hey!" You called out over the drumming rain, "I never asked for your name."
"John Price." Came his simple reply, accompanied by a a small smile.
You reciprocated with your own name, something so simple suddenly feeling intimate, important. After saying your goodnights, you closed the door and began to drive away, the rain beginning to taper off.
But then, a nagging thought tugged at your brain. His coat still laid draped over your shoulders. Without giving it a second thought, you turned the car around and rolled down the window, calling out into the night.
"Hey, John! I still have your coat!"
He turned, his silhouette illuminated by the fading streetlights, and yelled back, "Bring it back here tomorrow, same time."
With a smile tugging at your lips, you nodded in agreement. That night, as you drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of your recent breakup seemed distant and insignificant. Instead, your mind was filled with the memory of the handsome Captain and the promise of tomorrow.
/////
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, your meetings with John at the pub became a tradition. Every Wednesday and Saturday, like clockwork, you would find yourselves drawn back to that familiar corner booth, where the outside world faded away and it was just the two of you, lost in conversation.
Your advances were subtle yet unmistakable, a brush of your hand against his, a playful flirtation laced with innuendo. And though John never shut you down, his demeanor remained restrained, as if he was holding himself back from crossing an invisible boundary.
He never pushed for more, never crossed the line into something deeper, leaving you to wonder if the attraction was one sided.
It was both frustrating and endearing at first, what had started as a playful game of cat and mouse had morphed into something deeper, more profound and the anticipation of seeing him, of sharing those precious hours together, became the highlight of your week.
You found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was borderline obsessive how you tended to every detail, choosing the perfect outfit and spending hours grooming yourself to ensure you looked your best for him.
While his eyes traced the curves of your body with hunger, his hands always remained glued at his sides. Always a good conversation, a walk to your car and a goodnight to leave you awake at night, going through every scenario possible.
It was maddening, the way he welcomed your touches and flirtatious banter without ever making a move of his own.
Perhaps, if he was to turn you down outright, to reject your advances and put an end to the torture, it would be easier to accept. You could move on, content in the knowledge that you had tried and failed. But John never did that.
And so, that particular night, you swore, it would be different.
////
Another Saturday night unfolded and you found yourself once again nestled in the comfort of your favorite booth at the pub, opposite of John.
Dressed in figure hugging black dress that accentuated every curve, you couldn't help but feel confident and ready for what you were about to do. The neckline dipped low, offering a glimpse of your cleavage while the bold red lipstick painted your intentions clear for all to see.
Taking a moment to gather your courage, you lifted your glass to your lips, the sweet aroma of your fruity cocktail easing your nerves. After taking a sip, with a playful smile, you turned to John, nudging the glass towards him.
"Wanna try my drink?" You asked, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.
You knew all too well that John was a man of simple tastes, his preference for whiskey never changing. Your intentions weren't supposed to change that, anyway.
John's gaze lingered on the glass for a few seconds and returned to yours, a small smile playing at his lips.
''I don't think I'm gonna enjoy drinking that one, love.'' He replied with a chuckle as he took another sip of his usual choice.
That was your moment.
With a coy smile, you took another sip from your cocktail, savoring the fruity sweetness that danced on your tongue and then, with a boldness you hadn't known you possessed, you placed your hand on John's thigh, the touch of your fingertips freezing him into place.
"You don't have to drink it to enjoy the taste." You replied, your words dripping with innuendo whilst you took in his unusually tensed reaction.
Without waiting for John's response, you leaned in, the anticipation coursing through your veins like wildfire.
Your heart pounded loudly against your chest as you pressed your lips against his, the taste of whiskey and strawberries mingling together the more you took his bottom lip between your own. There was a hesitance in the way your mouth moved, your tongue grazing his own as you awaited for him to deepen it.
Feeling the warmth of John's palms resting on your shoulders, you couldn't help but anticipate his next move, to reciprocate the kiss and finally make you his.
But to your surprise, instead of drawing you closer, John gently pushed you back, disconnecting your lips with a tender touch that almost felt like betrayal. His eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable as if he was still lingering on the taste of your kiss, contemplating what he was about to do next.
Feeling the weight of John's eyes piercing through you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet them, the sting of embarrassment and disappointment burning hot against your cheeks.
You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never felt before. As his hands left your shoulders and came to rest on the table, you could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.
And then, finally, his voice broke the silence, "Y/N, I can't." He said, his tone filled with a mixture of pity and regret.
"Even if I want-" He started to say, but then abruptly stopped, as if his own thoughts had betrayed him.
You wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and anger, but all you could do was sit there, confused and curious to the thought of him finishing that sentence.
Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you took in a deep breath and with trembling hands, you finally raised your face to look at him.
All you managed, was a one word question coming out as a barely audible whisper, ''Why?''
His hesitation, his struggle to articulate his thoughts only grated against your nerves but you sat there patient, waiting for him to state a good enough reason that would match with his last sentence.
"You're so young and I-" John began but his words only added to your ticking bomb. His excuse felt like a slap in the face, and before he could finish, you cut him off, your voice dripping with disbelief.
"Young? Is that it?!" You exclaimed, the anger in your voice palpable. "I'm 25 for fuck's sake!"
In that moment, what he said, the implication of his excuse became painfully clear. It wasn't about age. It was about fear, about his own insecurities. But you refused to be dismissed so easily.
"Younger, then." He persisted, correcting himself, his tone tinged with frustration. "You should be out there flirting with guys your own age, not messed up middle-aged men that you meet at a shady pub."
How dare he, you thought, how dare he belittle your choices, your feelings like that?
Your eyes widened in disbelief at what he was saying, the anger bubbling up inside you threatening to boil over. How could he be so blind, so oblivious to the depth of your feelings?
"Guys my age, huh?!" You retorted sarcastically, raising the volume of your voice just enough to make him look back into your eyes.
But instead of backing down, John simply nodded to your question. And then, as if to salt to your wound, his eyes trailed around the pub, landing on two young guys ordering a drink at the bar.
"Someone like him, not me.'' His tone devoid of self-pity or insecurity.
It was as if he was protecting you, shielding you from the potential pain that could come from being with someone like him.
His words only added more fuel to your fire that was threatening to consume you whole and so you stood up from your seat, straightening your dress with a determined flick of your wrist. Every fiber of your being screamed with frustration, but you refused to let it win.
"You know what, maybe you are right." You said to John, your voice tinged with bitterness.
Trailing your gaze towards the blonde guy at the bar, who seemed more interested in his reflection on his front camera than anything else, you saw an opportunity.
With a calculated move, you turned back to John, his eyes awaiting your next move. With a forced smile, you continued, "Maybe I should take my chances with a younger guy."
Without another word, you turned on your heel, grabbing your purse and made your way towards the bar. As you approached the blonde guy, you could feel John's eyes boring into your back but you tried your hardest not to take a peak.
Instead you sat down next to the new stranger, who finally put his phone down and turned his attention towards you, giving you a warm smile before introducing himself with a simple, ''Hey.''
Glancing back at John for a brief moment, you noticed an unfamiliar look in his eyes. A mixture of possessiveness and jealousy that sent shivers down your spine.
With his jaw clenched and posture tense, John seemed poised to stand up. But you refused to let his sudden change dictate your actions and so maintaining the same fake smile as before, you turned back to the blonde guy.
"Hey, there." You replied, your tone light and casual as you greeted him back.
It was time for you to finally be the cat and it was only a matter of seconds before the mouse came running back to your claws.
#self insert with that Manchester United line sorry guys 🙏#captain price#captain price x reader#captain price x you#captain price x female reader#captain price smut#captain price angst#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#task force 141#141 x reader#john price#captain john price#ocaptainchallenge
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not according to plan | hjs (teaser)
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.
pairing: joshua x f.reader
genre: fake dating, strangers to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut
rating: explicit (in the full fic), minors DNI
word count: ~1.1k in this teaser (full fic ~22k)
notes: johnny suh as the ex (sorry!), also includes other idols not in seventeen solely as face claims, there's a heavy focus on the fake dating, mentions of food & drink, warnings to be added to the final fic
fic post date: friday, april 26th (full fic here)
a/n: i started this legit months ago as kind of a joke, talking about it with @shuadotcom but it's finally done (and a lot longer than i anticipated).
thank you to: @wonwussy & @kwanisms who read over this for me (too long ago), and to @cheolism @wooahaeproductions @hannieween, & sj for all the brainstorming help along the way.
tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone @crepecakeu
if you'd like to be tagged in this fic (or any of my fics), comment, click here for my tag list, or send an ask 💕
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.
let me know if you want to be tagged when i post the full fic next week 💕 (and what you think so far)
#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
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Just friends
Summary: can y/n manage being just friends?
Word count: 7.k
🎀Warning🎀:18+NSFW, oral sex, language, fluff, angst, violence, gore, sexual content,panic attack etc
(Like, comment, reblog for part four💗)
This is part 3 of one night stand
Part 1
Part 2
“We need to talk about yesterday.” You state firmly. Your tone was completely different from your usual lighthearted and funny personality. König and Ghost have quite literally seen you crack a joke in the middle of open gunfire. This was uncharted territory for them, whatever you were about to say had to be important. You take a deep breath, thinking of your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to hurt anyone again…especially König.
“Spit it out rookie.” Ghost says annoyed.
“Oh god how do I even say this…I feel something…something I can’t explain when I’m with you.” You look at König, he shifts nervously under your gaze.
“And with you.” Your head turns to face Ghost, staring into those glimmering obsidian eyes. He breaks eye contact looking far off into the distance without a word.
“I don’t know what it means but I know it’s something I can’t ignore.” Your brow scrunches as you choke the words out.
“I want to get to know you both and I’m here to ask for that opportunity. I’m here to ask you to be my friends. No titles. No rankings. No romance. Just…friends.” Your teeth nibble at your lower lip waiting for someone else to talk. It was nerve racking not being able to read their facial expressions. Their body language didn’t give much away either, you shift on your heels.
“That’s what you barged in here to ask for… friendship?” He slowly rises from his desk glaring in your direction.
“Well…yeah” Your voice is low.
“Do you really think friendship can fix everything?” Königs voice is dark, he speaks the word friendship as if it was something rancid on his tongue.
“I’m not saying it can I just…” you explain.
“I don’t need to be a part of whatever you two have going on. Leave. both of you.” Ghost barks.
“You seemed to be a part of it yesterday when you had your hands all over her.” König rasps, turning his killer gaze onto him. Ghost strides from behind the desk, his heavy footsteps fill the air as he takes slow deliberate steps forward. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. A chill runs down your spine as you’re standing flush in between these skyscrapers. He stands tall looking König straight in the eyes, not even acknowledging your presence between them.
“I don’t like your tone colonel. I think you’d better change that.” His head tilts mockingly, sizing him up.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you sergeant.” He beams into him like white hot lasers.
“Hah, you’ve always been balsy König, could always count on you to get the job done. But I want you to remember something…you can beat them out there on that battlefield but here this is my territory and you won’t win.” He steps closer making sure he heard every word.
“Why don't we find out serg.” He says through clenched teeth. At this point you’re sure they have completely forgotten your existence . You plant your palms on ghosts chest pushing him back, he seemed to snap back to reality realizing you were still there.
“This isn’t the time or the place…no war within our army. Those are your words sergeant! As a leader you have to practice and enforce that as law. König I know you’re angry and have every right to be but last night was training and that’s all. I won’t keep repeating myself anymore, I get that it’s hard to trust but you’re going to have to try.” You scold.
“ Why do you care so much? How can you stand here and act like you know what I want. You don’t know anything. I’ve never given you the impression that-“ Simon rambles.
“I know it sounds stupid, crazy even, but I know you want to get closer to me Ghost.” You say gently, König tenses at the soft tone of your voice…had you ever spoken to him that way? He couldn’t recall a time you had, and that made him envious.
“You need someone. You’ve spent so much of your time in isolation, it’s time to let people in.” Never had he heard you sound so sure of yourself.
How could you break down his walls so easily, there is something about you that made him feel at ease. When he’s with you it feels like he’s allowed to smile,Things feel easier…happier. But he knew from experience things like this didn’t come so easy. People always get hurt when love is involved.
“And König…I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of being angry and resentful towards each other. These past few weeks have brought us closer together and I don’t want to ruin that with one misunderstanding.” His face burns tomato red under his mask, but he wouldn’t show it. His shoulder stiffen as if he’d been sliced across the chest. How could such beautiful words hurt this bad , you’d summed up his feelings for you perfectly but he couldn’t shake the thought of you being so involved with Ghost. Being your friend sounds like absolute torture but it was a ray of hope. Hope that one day maybe you would undoubtedly love him back. He felt like a lost puppy waiting to be owned by you…it was foolish but he couldn’t stop himself. Your naivety muddled the fact that this would be war and you were the prize.
“It has always been you. I’ve got so much blood on my hands it could run a river red and yet you were granted the title of sergeant. You’ve somehow made sure I was one step below you but that’s gonna change. You said I couldn’t win…watch me.” He says sharply.
“So this is your playing field…her?” Ghost looks you up and down with judgmental eyes. You grimace wondering why he looked so unimpressed.
“Hah, fine I’ll bite. What are the rules of the game?” Ghost chuckles, you could hear the smirk in his voice.
“We get individual days to spend with y/n and the other person cannot interfere.”
“And what about the days that aren’t accounted for?” His head tilts curiously.
“First come first serve. It’s up to y/n who she would want to spend that free time with even though I know it’ll be me. No one likes being around you.” König taunts, it isn’t clear if it’s the jealousy talking or the militant hunger for victory. Either way you didn’t appreciate them auctioning off your time and affection like some silly little game.
“You’re on. It’s about time I remind you of your place, colonel.” He reaches out an open palm, König grasps it firmly, shaking on the terms.
It’s like everything you said completely went over their heads but you knew it would take patience and time to build a stronger relationship with them. If thinking of it as a competition got them on board, then you’d just have to play along.
~
Your arms tremble as you push the weighted bar up with all your strength. Your shoulders burn with each rep begging for a break, to your body’s dismay, you were just warming up. You look up into caramel colored eyes, Maya smiles down at you as she helps support the weight of the bar. With a final push you line it up with the metal stand, it lands with a loud crack. You sit up, sweat pouring down your face. Maya removes the white towel from around her neck, she dabs away the stray droplets as they fall. She was always right there at your side helping you with even the tiniest of things.
“Remember to hydrate. The body can lose up to 10 liters of water a day when active.” She hands you her purple water bottle.
“Your knowledge never ceases to amaze me, you're gonna make a great doctor one day.” You tip the bottle up, taking several gulps before coming back up for air. Maya’s eyes softened, she needed to hear that; with all the death and injuries on base that passion could be lost. She is a practicing apprentice Doctor on base as she studies remotely to get her doctorate in medical science. Balancing education with active military duty was no easy feat, personal attachment can get in the way. People she laughed with, pulled pranks on, sat and had meals with…had died in her arms. Brutal excruciating deaths that she could do nothing about. No matter how hard she tried to save everyone…their blood still stained her hands. She thought often about what she would do if you got hurt…could she save you? Maya shakes the negative thoughts away reminding herself that you were one of the special forces best. You may be a handful but you were damn good at your job.
“Thank you y/n, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She stamps a kiss on your forehead.
“I walked in on Sergeant Ghost and Colonel König talking about some new intel on the target. There might be a raid soon, I know how anxious you are with new missions.” A look of discomfort flashes on her face leaving just as quickly. She puts on a fake smile not wanting to put any more stress on you. You were the one who would be out there on the front lines risking your life and she didn’t want to worry you.
“I’m okay,really, you get used to it.” You weren’t sure if she was trying to convince you or herself.
“If you ever need to talk…I am here Maya. I’m always here.” You bore into her with sincere eyes.
“and that’s why you’re my best friend. Now come on, we gotta keep that heart rate up.” She takes your hand, helping you to your feet. The two of you walked over to the pull up bar, arm day was not fun…at all. Your muscles were already achy and tired but you had to push in order to build endurance.
“Can’t I just work on legs today, that’s so much easier.” You whine, Maya laughs patting your lower back.
“As much as I agree with that statement, no. You handle high caliber weaponry. if you’re not strong, All that push back could damage your muscles.” She raises her arms holding the stretches in ten second intervals. Because of her insane height there is no need to use a stepping ladder, she simply reaches up and gets to work. Her fingers graze the bar before pulling back suddenly.
“I forgot my chalk, it helps prevent blisters, I’ll be back. Go ahead and start your sets without me. I gotta run back to our room.” She jogs off leaving you standing alone in the gym. You always felt slightly self conscious being in the weight room without a partner. Like everyone was watching you. Judging you. In reality no one even glanced your way but that didn’t stop the anxiety from striking. A small tremor shakes your hands as you reach up for the bar. It’s way too tall to grab on your own, Maya was usually there to give you a lift. You scan the area for a spare stepping stool or chair but everything is occupied. Eyes. Eyes everywhere. There looked to be two of everything as your vision doubled.The room begins to spin and your knees feel weak, where was Maya? When would she be back? Maya? Maya? Maya?!
“Y/n look at me. Are you okay? Should I take you to the infirmary?” Your vision begins to focus turning the two ghosts in front of you, into one. Your breathing is shaky, you nod unable to speak. His head tilts forward with concern, his bare hand cups
your elbow as he pulls you closer.
“Your eye movements are unsteady,breathing accelerated, pupils dilated…you’re having a panic attack. Talk to me y/n what is distressing you?” His voice is gentle, calming even.
“People. Just so many people. M-Maya left… I’m alone. I-I don’t like being alone.”you choke. His heart breaks at your words, loneliness was no stranger to him. Thinking back, Ghost couldn’t recall a time when you weren’t surrounded by people. He figured it’s because of how likable and fun you were but now the dots began to connect. You made sure to never be alone because it scared you…just like it scared him.
“I’ll stay with you.” His voice was earnest, he surprised himself with his sudden reaction. Normally Ghost worked out alone as he did with most things. But he wanted to help you, seeing you so shaken up tugged at something deep inside him.
“That’s it…slow deep breaths. One…two… exhale three. Very good.” He coaches. He looked to be very familiar with this sort of thing, you wondered if he’d dealt with this before. Ghost didn’t seem like the type to deal with anxiousness, he was always so cool headed.
“I’m good now.” You huff.
“Are you sure? We can go somewhere more private.” Your face heats up at his word choice, you remember the wet dream from just nights ago.
“N-no I’m fine, I still have a few sets to do.” You slide your elbow from his grasp.
“Then let’s do it… I assume your next set is pull ups and judging by your size, you usually have Maya help you up?” He hypothesized walking behind you to examine the bar.
“Yeah Maya always lifts me up-“ your words are cut off by his strong hands sinking into your waist. His fingers press into the soft plush of your hips, the crotch of his cargos rubs against your ass. His eyes fall low as he stares down at you, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles. You don’t speak up, getting lost in the comfort of his touch. The rush of his heart vibrates through your back, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. You can hear the heaviness in his breath, the heat in his mask makes sweat bead at his brow. This isn’t the first time your bodies have met this closely but somehow this felt…Different. You snap to the reality that there is a room full of people here witnessing this moment. That idea made you focus on the initial goal…pull ups.
“I’m ready.” You assure, jumping as he hoists your body up with ease. Your fingers begin to slip, ghost bounces you up, allowing you to readjust the grip.
Even with the extra help, your arms burn as you pull the entirety of your weight up and over the bar. Your chin taps the cool metal marking one successful rep, ghost pats your thigh.
“Good job, make sure you’re breathing with each pull.” He instructs, his arms squish the fluff of your upper thighs. You nod, extending the length of your arms preparing for the next pull. Ghost is painfully aware of how your ass is pressed against his upper chest. His face is inches from the smooth damp skin of your back, his eyes track the small trickle of sweat that runs down your spine. He says a silent prayer, begging not to get hard in front of his subordinates. Even the slightest touch of your body drove him fucking mad, he’d been attracted to women before but never like this. Those thoughts were always intrusive and fleeting, he didn't let his mind wander too deeply but you…he imagined ripping those mauve pink leggings open and ramming every solid inch of his cock inside you. He hated how much control you had over him without even trying.
“I-I can’t take anymore” you groan, feeling the intense burning sensation growing in your arms.
Oh come on, he thinks. You couldn’t have chosen a better word choice, a shock shoots up his leg activating his dormant member. He nearly drops you as the mirror shows him a glimpse of his hard dick poking through his gray sweatpants. He couldn’t let you see him like this, before you could blink your feet were on the ground and ghost was B lining it to the men’s locker room.
“Hey wait where are you going?!” You call as he scurries away. He doesn’t turn around or even answer as he disappears into the white locker room door. Well that was rude, you think. You were used to him treating you like some kind of germ but this seemed off and you couldn’t put your finger on it.
~
There still hadn’t been any sign of Maya since earlier in the weight room, a sinking feeling pulls at your stomach. It wasn’t like her to just up and disappear without saying a word . The military base wasn’t the biggest in the world so there weren't many places she could have gone. Your eyes scan the mess hall landing on the table you two usually shared. Empty. No sign of her at all, you begin to worry what would keep her from eating lunch. Lunch is Maya’s favorite time of day apart from breakfast and dinner, this was strange. You look at the lunch line and physically cringe when you see that ominous brown paper bag with your name on it. It wouldn’t bother you one bit if you never saw another peanut butter and jelly ever again. You snake through the crowd and head toward the exit deciding to go search for her, it’s what she would have done for you. Just as you burst out of the sea of soldiers there is a deep voice bellowing down the long tan hallway.
“Y/n” a voice rumbles in the distance. Loud heavy footsteps shake the ground as König jogs in your direction.
“I didn’t see you in the mess hall, have you eaten already?” His words are rushed and nervous.
“No I haven’t, I was actually going to-“ he chimes in disregarding the rest of your sentence.
“That’s perfect! I wanted to invite you to have lunch with me.” His voice sounds energetic.
“Well I was just about to go look for Maya…” you trail looking around trying to spot her.
“Oh I saw her a few minutes ago when I was walking past the infirmary.” He says. The infirmary should have been the first place you looked, Maya did tons of overtime with Dr.Bradshaw. Extra hours counted as field work for her university grade, but overworking wasn’t always a good sign for her. You take a mental note to ask her later not wanting to disturb her study time with the Doctor. There was a nagging urge to ask König exactly what she was up to when he saw her but you decided not to snoop. If there was an issue she would come to you about it, you were always there for her and she knew that…or at least you hoped she did.
“Oh okay then I’ll just talk to her later thanks.” You spin on your heels ready to jog back to the cafeteria. A leather gloved hand entraps your wrist, holding you still. Your head whips around staring up into his forest green eyes, they dart back and forth searching your face.
“I’m sorry, I-I uh did you have plans for lunch today? If so I completely understand…I know you might still be worried about Maya.” His voice is shaky.
“No I don’t have plans for lunch, ugh I’m the one who should be sorry I almost blew you off just now. What kind of friend am I?” You joke. His chest tightens at the word friend, he drops your hand back to your side. It catches your attention but you breeze by it not wanting to cause any damage.
“I’d love to have lunch with you König.” You say enthusiastically trying to salvage the situation.
“Perfect. Let’s go, try to act normal.” He nods in the directions of the exit motioning you to follow his lead. You had a feeling this was going to be another mission impossible, König mixed with the words “act normal” never turned out good. Since the recent feud with ghost he was more rebellious than ever. You cautiously walk behind him trailing him out of the double doors, the sun beats down on your skin. Your eyes squint from the sudden lighting change, your hand lifts to shade your forehead blocking out the brightness. Las Almas Mexico was a beautiful mountainous place with endless desert views. There were small cities with an economy based on agriculture and farming. Like every major metropolitan region there are city areas for entertainment and tourism. The base was quite a distance from those areas, the deserts granted seclusion. Most of the drug activity and gang violence originated in the city areas. Although there were plenty of small gangs they all worked under the one major crime organization in the city…The Las Almas Cartel. The whole reason for your special forces deployment was to monitor and take down this organization. They participated in egregious crimes against the residents of Las Almas and helped push the drug epidemic throughout multiple countries. You walk forward,your shoulder brushes his arm ever so slightly. His eyes shift away with embarrassment, he hadn’t touched you since that night. People chirp hello’s as you slip through the ocean of workers, there were so many familiar happy faces in the crowd. You are grateful König is by your side or all the attention could have become overwhelming very quickly. It warmed your heart to be loved by so many but it became exhausting, always chasing approval from others.
König senses a shift in your mood, boldly, he rests his big hand on your lower back; ushering you along. He leads you to the vehicle repair and storage shed. There are lanes wall to wall filled with earth toned military vehicles ranging from Humvee’s to M113’s.
“Oh hey y/n! What are you doing all the way out here darlin’?” His southern twang is thick. The dimples in his cheeks deepen as he smiles toothy and big. His giant veiny hands stain the white cloth as he wipes away black sludge.
“Hey Jack, I hope we didn’t interrupt your work.”
“You could never bother me y/n seeing you is always a treat. Speaking of treats, where’s ol doll face Maya I haven’t gotten my daily fix of her.” He laughs. Jack was a flirt that was no secret but everyone knew about his unrequited love for Maya. Most people found her attractive but Jack’s feelings were public, making sure to scare off anyone who thought about making a move. They were just like an old married couple, arguing about any and everything.
“She’s working in the infirmary.” You explain.
“I’m gonna have to go and pay her a visit, she can’t run forever.” Wrinkles form at the corner of his eyes as he smiles ear to ear.
You can’t help but cheese at his friendly face. König didn’t appreciate Jack's lingering gaze. His eyes slit with annoyance, why were you smiling at him like that? He thinks burning with jealousy.
“I’m taking a Jeep on patrol.” He stated plainly.
“Sure thing, I’ll just need to see that authorization letter from the sergeant.” He says wiping the oil from his cheek.
“I am your Colonel. I grant myself authorization.” His arms fold over his chest as he stands tall and confident.
“But the sergeant said-“ Jack starts.
“Unless you want to be scrubbing toilets for a week I suggest you give me the keys. If not, I’ll just have to report you for interference with a mandatory patrol. Are we clear?” His voice is stern. You find yourself gawking at him. his power had you melting in his gloved palm. König didn’t like abusing his power but there was no way he’d go beg ghost to allow him to take you out. If he wanted you to himself he would make that happen at any cost. It didn’t matter who he had to step over as long as he got to be with you. Jack stares him down for a moment weighing out his options, he could either disobey Ghost and get punished or disobey König and get punished. Great choices he think’s sarcastically.
“Look, if you’re gonna take her out you gotta be back before sunset or else ghost is gonna be on my ass…deal?” He extends a hand to König.
“Deal.” He takes his hand firmly.
“Here I just did an oil change on her so she’s the best I’ve got right now. I’m still repair’n the others.” He tosses him a set of Keys with a dog tag attached. König nods, throwing his black duffel bag in the back seat. You never understood the idea of jeeps being doorless but as you hop in it makes a little more sense. If you’re being shot at you could literally jump right in. You chuckle at the ridiculous thought of you diving into a moving jeep.
“What’s so funny?” He asks, clicking his seat belt and cranking the ignition.
“Nothing, it's dumb.” You laugh tugging the seat belt over your chest. He chuckles backing out of the garage. His arm lays across the back of your headrest as he looks behind him making sure no one was there. Your thighs clench at his focused body language, how did he manage to turn you on with such mundane tasks. The car whips around, he straightens the wheel and puts the gear in drive.
An armed soldier from the gate walks up to the driver's side scoping out the inside of the car.
“Colonel. Where are you headed?” He salutes.
“Me and y/n will be holding a patrol unit on the mountain. There’s been reports of suspicious activity by the locals.” He lies smoothly. The mask came in handy since without it every emotion he felt would be on display. König is, unbenounced to everyone else,a terrible liar. His face gives him away every time. Despite what people think he could be read like a book if it wasn’t for the mask.
“Yes sir. Open the gate!” He calls.
König’s shoulders relax as the metal gates swing open. Mission accomplished. He finally had you to himself for a day. After spotting your workout with the sergeant; he had to find a way to steal your attention back. Your head leans out the door watching in awe as the ground gets further away. The mountain road is bumpy and narrow, your hand grips the seatbelt tightly.
“Scared of heights?” He asks, looking over at you with concern.
“Of course not, keep your eyes on the road.” You scold.
“You know it doesn’t help to look down.” He reaches over, tugging your chin away from the ground. His fingers linger for a second before returning to the wheel. You’d seen this view from the chopper when you first arrived on base but this is a new perspective and it is gorgeous. The cacti bloomed with tiny magenta flowers, the dry soil cracked into interesting shapes. Small animals poke their heads from the grooves in the ground,and Even the sky is clear and vast. If maps didn’t exist you’d have sworn the land stretched on forever. The heat is also comforting, the sun wraps you in a tight embrace kissing your skin. You wished you could see his face, you wondered if he was enamored with the scenery just as you are.
“It’s amazing isn’t it…like a whole new world.” He breathes looking around curiously. One hand gripped the wheel and the other pointed to a viper green snake in the distance.
“Did you see that?!” He exclaims excitedly.
“I did.” You say softly.
He coughs awkwardly, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you but animals are his weakness. He felt an obligation to protect creatures smaller than him, what better way to use his gigantic size. After what felt like an eternity he pulls into an open area at the top of the mountain overlooking the base. He puts the car in park and takes the key from the ignition. You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning your body to hop down; König jogs around the vehicle blocking your path.
“Allow me.” He pretends to open an invisible door.
You jump down and punch his arm playfully. You both laugh filling the open air with joy. He admires you bent over laughing from your gut, a real laugh, that’s when you were most beautiful. He loved seeing happiness radiate from you, you wore it well. He wanted to make everyday a good day filled with bliss, he dreamed of one day being the one to make that a reality for you. He swings his duffel bag out with a huff walking over to a clear patch of land. With razor focus he unzips the bag unloading its contents onto the sandy ground. He lays a green blanket down before laying zip lock bags of mystery foods on to the cloth. To finish off the set up he sets up two colas on either side of the picnic blanket. It was one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, he plops down in the blanket waving you over. You can’t help but smile at the exquisite dining arrangement designed by the renowned König.
“Beautiful set up chef.” You joke.
“On today’s menu we have the chefs’ choice…Ham and cheese sandwich. My secret ingredient is melted cheese courtesy of today’s weather. Strawberries, hand picked by me from the local farmers market. And two delicious warm cokes.” Your nose scrunches in disgust, earning a hearty laugh from the colonel. His laugh was like liquid gold, it rumbled deep, shaking your core. It’s a shame others didn’t get to witness this playful side of him.
“Sounds… yummy.” You say snagging a ham sandwich. You unzip the bag and have an experimental bite. To your surprise it’s not too bad, somehow the sun melted cheese worked. Not something you’d have regularly for a snack but the fact that König cooked it, made it taste better. You can’t imagine him moving around the kitchen, did he keep the mask on or take it off? You giggle at the image of him with an apron and mask on.
“You’re always giggling and I’m never a part of the joke.” He pouts.
“I was just imagining you cooking in a cute little apron. Would you keep the mask on or take it off.” You tease.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He slips his sandwich under the hem of his mask, taking a bite. At this angle the sunlight glows behind you like a halo. König admires how angelic you are, he didn’t understand how someone could look so perfect. There wasn’t a word in any language that could describe your beauty, inside and out you were radiant. A rose blush sweeps his face, he looks away realizing how long he’s been staring. Butterflies flutter in your stomach.You turn away relocating your attention to the incredible view. At this height the wind whips strongly , blowing a cool breeze through the air. You close your eyes tilting your face to the sky, his eyes trail down your neck peering at the steady thump of your vein. He remembers the way you look with your pulse beating out of control;lustful eye low eyes staring back at him. That night you took a piece of him with you, he has never been so needy for a woman in his life. In a metaphorical sense you were a succubus and he would gladly give up his soul.
“God you’re gorgeous.” He breathes. Your eyes widen as you stammer for words nervously.
“W-what, you can’t just say that out of nowhere.” You stutter.
“Should I give you a warning next time?” He flirts.
“You’re always messing with me.” You slap his hand. He smirks loving how you crumble for him. He reaches over to grab the bag of fresh strawberries, his palm brushes the base of your thigh. He slides a berry under his mask, making a sound of approval.
“Mmm. These are really good. Try it.” He plucks a strawberry from the bag, holding it up to your lips.
You’re hesitant for a while looking at the berry in disbelief, he couldn’t be serious. This is definitely not something friends do but you do have a habit of overthinking things. Maybe this is one of those things, it’s just a strawberry, nothing less, and nothing more. You nod coyly, leaning in and wrapping your plump lips around the fruit as your teeth sink in; taking a small bite. His jaw tenses as he fights back the urge to lick the sticky juices from your mouth. With his free hand he lifts his mask, exposing the lower portion of his face. There is an intensity behind his eyes as he slides the rest of your half eaten berry past his blushed lips.
“You’re right, these are…really…good.” You trail as he closes the distance between you.
“Here, have some more then.” He bites another one. His giant hand rests at the back of your neck pulling you closer inch by inch. All thoughts evacuate your mind as his soft breath brushes your lips. He’s so close you can almost taste him. So achingly close that it makes your heart leap right out of your chest. Why was he doing this to you, making you yearn to feel him again. Reminding you of the mind bending orgasms he gave you that night. It wasn’t fair, how could you be friends when he is so irresistible? You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. He brushes his soft warm lips over yours begging for permission, pleading for just one kiss. You did. You’re caught in his net as your lips meld desperately in a symphony of passion. His tongue spreads the strawberry nectar across your taste buds making the kiss intoxicatingly sweet. He shifts onto his knees towering over you, never breaking the kiss. He leans down deepening it, gripping the curve of your hips; a camo clad knee forces through the barrier of your thighs. It’s feverish and greedy, he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your back arches into his touch, a loud moan echoes through the mountain as he teases your pulsing clit. The friction was unbearable, it felt good but it wasn’t enough. You wanted, no, needed more. Your pussy quivers as he breaks the kiss to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck.
“W-we can’t. Friends don’t uhn-friends can’t do this.”You pant.
“I want to please you. I didn’t get to show you all of my tricks last time.” He whispers seductively. He pushes you back onto your elbows, clearing the picnic blanket in one swoop of his hand. You stare down at him, your breathing is erratic wondering what his next move will be. Strong calloused fingers work the complicated buckle of your work pants. Soon your pants are not only unbuckled but being slid down the length of your legs. Your chunky black combat boots prevented them from going any further so naturally he removed those too; leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. You couldn’t believe you were letting this happen and in a desert nonetheless. König wastes no time grasping your hips and lifting your pelvis, leveling your pussy with his eager mouth. Your shoulders and head rest on the blanket while your lower half is suspended upward; legs dangling on his hunched shoulders. Even with him leaning over, your ass is still elevated at a staggering height. You’re completely at his mercy, no matter how much you squirm his grip is iron tight. The black fabric of his mask sits on the plush of your mound hiding his face as he kisses your warm lower lips. You couldn’t see anything from this angle and the mask added even more security to his next action. You watch the clouds move up above as he traces the glazed slit of your entrance, your hips buck in response. A quiet whimper vibrates your skin as he tastes you for the first time, the scent of your arousal fills the limited space in his mask. Every breath he took was filled with you, that one lick already had his dick frustratingly hard and throbbing.
“Du schmeckst so verdammt fantastisch (you taste so fucking amazing)” he mumbles into your heat. It’s impossible to hold back any more, his tongue slithers up and down the slippery split of your cunt. The tip of his tongue draws circles around your stiff clit, he nips and sucks at the bundle of nerves making your legs shake. His hands sink into your thighs as he pushes deeper into your delectable pussy. The thick flat of his tongue laps at your labia teasing the wet folds of your outer sex. Your muscles contract as he explores every crevice of your dewy flower, your juices dribble down his chin as he teases the perimeter of your tight hole. You grind up into his face wanting him to go further tasting the deepest parts of your sweetness. His hands release your thighs leaving the heavy lifting to your core strength. Your body shakes as you fight to stay in this position not wanting the pleasure to end.
“That’s it, you're doing so good Schatz(love) you’re going to have to put in some work to cum.” He breathes. His hands tug at your shirt fighting to push it up past your breast. You decide to help him out, lifting your shirt and black bra in one motion; your nipples are stiff with arousal. He rolls your hard peaks between his fingers, teasing and caressing the sensitive buds. Your mouth falls slack as his tongue eases into you, your walls clench as he strokes your inner velvet. A sloshing wet sound fills the air as he fucks your cunt with his long skillful tongue. Your hands fist the blanket as you become overwhelmed by all the sensations. How could something wrong feel so good.
“No no no you can’t cum yet, I am still enjoying my meal.” He reprimands. You bite your lip and stare up at him with pleading teary eyes.
“P-please let me cum, s’to much c-can’t hold it please.” You cry.
“Look at me Prinzessin. Focus on me. Just like that, I’m so proud of you. Don’t give up beautiful. You're taking it so well.” He praises, locking eyes with you. He feels your pussy flutter on his tongue as you fight the urge to drench his face. He sucks your clit into his mouth gently, with a final pull sending you tumbling over the edge.
“I’m g-gonna cum, need to cum fuck-“
Your spent cunt spurts delicious cream all over Königs face, drenching his mask.
“Look at the mess you made. Naughty girl.” He eases your body back to the ground, licking his lips. You lie there twitching, unable to form a coherent sentence.
~
“Suns going down. We’d better start heading back to base.” He says in a disappointed tone. He wished this day could last forever but that wasn’t realistic. The last thing he wanted to deal with was ghost pulling rank on him again. You nod helping him pack his duffel bag, he smiles as your hands brush when reaching for the same items.
“I had so much fun with you today.” You chat loading the leftover snacks into the bag.
“Me too. We should come back here soon, I’ll pack better lunches next time.” He promises, throwing the bag over his shoulder.
“Everything was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.” You assure, swallowing back the feelings of regret. What did this mean moving forward, did you make the mistake of leading him on again? König catches a glimpse of doubt on your face and speaks up.
“Today…never happened. We hung out, as friends.” He pats your head. You smile up at him appreciating his kindness and understanding, he knew you never meant to hurt him. Today was all on him, he took that step knowing what it meant and he’d do it again. He knows you need time to figure things out and he was done being impatient. He is sure about his feelings for you and is willing to wait as long as it takes.
“Let’s go.” He taps your butt as he walks by. You gasp smacking his back in return,trailing behind him to the jeep. He tosses the duffle bag in the back seat, walking around to help you into the car.
You stop in your tracks peering up into his beautiful lush green eyes, his heart thumps rapidly.
“Did you forget something?” He asks.
“No. You’re just…incredible you know that.”
“Y/n I-Get down!” He leaps forward shielding your body as you two tumble to the ground in a panic.
“Ah! Scheisse! I’ve been hit.” He groans, squeezing the oozing gunshot wound. A ringing sounds in your ears from the blast, everything moves in slow motion as you help him limp to the Jeep.
“A fucking sniper. We have to move! Now! Drive” he instructs baring down his teeth, holding back a scream. His leg is on fire, blood spurts between his fingers as he applies pressure. The gas pedal is touching the floor as you push the vehicle as fast as it’ll go. Your fist beats down on the horn trying to alert the front gate you’re coming in hot. one hand swerves the wheel frantically twisting and turning and the other is on Königs head holding him close as you quick fire words of affirmation.
“It’s gonna be okay, please stay with me. Hang on alittle longer. König? König?! Fuck!” You sob whipping the wheel back and forth making it harder for the snipe to aim. His consciousness begins to fade from the excessive blood loss; the once cream flooring of the Jeep is now a cherry red. His hand goes limp as he faints no longer applying pressure to the wound. He’s fading fast.
“No no no wake up. I know you’re sleepy but stay with me please please König we’re almost there.” Tears stream down your face as you beat down on the horn. The gate is a few feet away, the soldier on guard sees you approaching at 150 miles an hour. He sounds the alarm, triggering the gate to open up slowly. You can’t let up on the speed it’s too late, you have to push it. Any further delay could cost him his life, you slam your foot to the floor giving it all you’ve got. A loud crack slices through the air as you burst through the half opened gate, taking the side view mirrors off in the process. Both feet hit the brakes forcing you to a violent stop. You jump out, yelling for back up.
“Please help me, he's hit! The colonel has been shot! Please he isn’t responding help me!” You scream, wrapping your hands around his calf trying to stop the bleeding.
“Y/n! What happened?!” Maya runs up taking off her shirt to use as a makeshift tourniquet.
“They shot him.” You hyperventilate.
“Who shot him?! Get him to the operating room now!” She barks at the nearby soldiers.
“I-I don’t know…” you sob watching the men carry him away.
To be continued?…
#smut#smut x reader#fluff#smut fanfiction#fanfic#ghost cod#könig mw2#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley#mw2 ghost#konig smut#könig x y/n#könig smut#könig x you#ghost smut#ghost x reader#könig#könig fluff#ghost fluff#cod smut#mw2 fanfic#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#könig cod#könig x reader#ghost call of duty#ghost x y/n#könig call of duty#mw2 oc#simon ghost x reader
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six feet under - yu jimin
genre; smut, angst, hurt/comfort
pairing; karina x g!p reader
content; despite the title there's no character death (it's just for metaphors) , unhealthy relationship; lack of communication , difficulty dealing with acceptance/reality , unintentionally hurting e/o , smut; p in v :D , unprotected sex , top karina/service bottom reader , oral (reader giving) , slight breast play , some praising
synopsis; it had always been said that nothing stays the same, it had been said ever since they were little kids and that acceptance of it was important. it helped move forward because dwelling in a past that no longer existed did no one any good. to hang onto something that didn’t exist meant falling to the deepest parts of hell willingly because no matter how much it hurt it felt like it was worth it the second they looked back at what it used to be.
wc; 15.6k+
masterlist.
It had always been said that nothing stays the same, it had been said ever since they were little kids and that acceptance of it was important. It helped move forward because dwelling in a past that no longer existed did no one any good. To hang onto something that didn’t exist meant falling to the deepest parts of hell willingly because no matter how much it hurt it felt like it was worth it the second they looked back at what it used to be.
The silence could almost be dreading, it was so loud that it vibrated through their ribcage. It was so loud with their thoughts that they had no clue what to do. Love could be so many things, couldn’t it? It also meant that love got mistaken a lot of times too. It could make a bed feel comfortable, one they would always want to be at the end of every night, but it would always feel cold with spaces bigger than the ocean even if they were just an inch away.
At times it felt like acknowledging the damage would only damage the rest of the world too if it was brought up. It was for everyone’s best and they could silently try to fix the damage with minimum casualties around them.
They both fell blind and only realised that they forgot to do something about it when they were dragged out of the daydreams and brought back to reality. The daydream that was the past was what made Y/n look away from her monitor once her eyes fell on the time at the bottom corner. She slipped the headphones off of her head, loose bangs falling over her forehead as they no longer were held back by the gear and she turned the chair around. Her eyes fell on the bed that was empty despite it being 0:30 AM.
Routines changed, but they stayed.
It had become a game of avoiding the other to not bring up the actual problems. Y/n indulged in her video games the whole day so they could avoid even looking at each other. She hadn’t spared Jimin a single glance but was now looking at the empty bed with sentiment filling her veins heavily. She deeply inhaled, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen to air out the sadness and hang on to the hope of stitching the torn back together.
It was harder than it looked though when she had no clue how to put together a world that had been caught in a landslide and pulled them apart. It was all drifting apart, burning bridges they couldn’t stop imagining still existed. All they did was stand and look at it happening because there was nothing that they could do about these new feelings.
She placed the headset onto the desk and reached over to the power button on the PC, her index finger coming in contact with it. Y/n pressed it and still deep in lamentful thoughts she held it for a while longer than needed before letting go.
Just as she stood up the door opened and her tired eyes landed on Jimin whose gaze immediately was drawn to Y/n despite how far away they were. It was time to let go, but all that heaviness caused by the thoughts of finally mending their worlds and leaving the one they had built together in the past was hard to get rid of. There were so many reasons that told them to let go, but so many that told them to stay because of what once was their everything.
“I just have to take a quick shower.” Jimin nodded at that as she stepped inside the room, leaving the door ajar as she knew what it meant. It was too cold to fall asleep beside each other on the bed, it was too uncertain of what they should do in the familiar sheets. It was easier to fall asleep alone, but it was difficult to sleep fully through the night if they weren’t both in bed at the same time.
It had become a routine of leaving to let the other fall asleep before getting in bed too. The shower felt agonising, unsure if she had been in there long enough or if she should stay and continue to ponder. Everything around them still felt the same, but on the inside everything was different. Was it because of how suddenly it had happened? Was it because it was scary to let go of something that used to be all their comfort, scared that it was their only comfort after being it for so long? Was it because of how much they still had for each other?
What if they got lost and became wanderers once they would let go of each other and would end up walking life without a goal to reach?
The shower felt like the only place where she could ponder now since it felt like it was too much to cry in front of each other. That would mean that they would have to talk about what was wrong and what they had to do, to do the things they weren’t ready for. The past felt so worth holding onto despite the feelings of the future never looking like they imagined.
It was like every other time when Y/n walked back to the room, she quietly opened it, stepping inside the warmth and the comforting scent of Jimin that lingered in the air. Was it because all these things still brought her warmth and comfort? Her eyes landed on the bed that wasn’t empty this time, but would still feel cold once she settled in it. Never did they do it intentionally, but it had started happening at some point and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
She couldn’t just not care, she always did and always would as she threw her black hoodie onto the backrest of the swivel chair she had been sitting in earlier. It merely made a sound when it landed on the chair and she walked a few small steps over to the edge of the bed where Jimin was lying.
It had become a new routine to just stare at Jimin from a distance while trying to figure out what exactly was wrong between them. She had always adored the girl whether with words or just by looking at her from across a room, but this was different despite the adoration. This always made her eyes look a certain way, a way that whenever Jimin caught Y/n looking at her she could tell what she was thinking and Jimin found herself leaving to wipe away her tears.
So Y/n was crouched down right by Jimin who was asleep on the bed, her head tilting as a small frown adorned her features in thought. The longer she thought the more it all felt like a pipe dream as her eyes lingered on the girl's soft features Y/n adored. The white duvet pulled up to her chin and the younger reached over to Jimin, gently grazing her fingers over the tender skin. Nothing about it had changed, it still felt as good as it always had under her fingertips.
She pushed back some of the loose strands away from the sleeping girl’s face before she pulled her hand away fully, scared that she would wake her up, that Jimin would pull away from her touch, that they would both freeze and then go back to pretending.
Y/n sighed at the feelings she couldn’t decipher anymore and her forehead rested on the edge of the bed for a few seconds as she closed her eyes tightly. Her fists clenched and so did her jaw to shut out everything, the landslide wiped away from her mind, the future too, the past stayed as she fished for the answers from the burning bridge. She was utterly confused, she was so lost in that field where everything had burned to the ground.
Where did it all go? When did it all disappear?
She deeply inhaled and raised her head, shakily letting out her breath, doing it slowly to not wake Jimin up. Her fingers peeled at the cover, the small bear coming into view that Jimin was hugging–it was Y/n’s childhood plushie, but the comfort that it had held once had been transferred to Jimin. She had no clue if Jimin had transferred it further or if she still held onto it. It felt too cold at times, but they were still hanging on to the daydream.
“Goodnight, angel.” Her fists gripped onto the sheets as she left a ghost-like peck against Jimin’s soft cheek while standing up before climbing carefully over the girl to lie down by the wall. Y/n got under the duvet and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling that was empty while her head raced with thoughts that would make falling asleep so much harder. The itch to hold each other, but the fear of it not feeling the same anymore kept them at a distance and so the ache grew, but the silence didn’t dissipate. It was loud enough to mask the sounds of the heartbreak.
Jimin heaved a sigh, her eyes opening in the silent room, knowing that Y/n was lying just behind her, but she wasn’t able to feel her. The simple peck, the brush of fingers against her skin, the goodnight, the innocent pet name; all made her eyes burn hot in the freezing weather that the room was in. It made her stiffen up her lower lip to try and keep them at bay, clutching the little bear harder, burying her nose into its brown fuzzy fur.
Each time she blinked her eyes its fur soaked up the tears, being the only witness of them, the only thing wiping them for her, holding her sorrows inside its small frame. She was afraid that it would overfill soon enough, that the bear would turn salty and bitter from her tears, and that it wouldn’t want to give her any more comfort because of that. She longed, but they flew apart and she couldn’t figure out what exactly she longed for as Jimin felt just as lost and confused about everything as Y/n was.
Was it all broken or just bent? She had no clue, Jimin didn’t even know what exactly it was that was wrong. Or maybe she knew just what was wrong, but pretended that she didn’t?
It echoed in Y/n’s head after the alarm had gone off around 6 AM and she had turned it off–their last rehearsal before they were off to Tokyo, Japan. What their mornings used to look like kept replaying in her head, the sounds of them like an echo of silence now because they no longer happened. There was no room filled with giggles despite it being early at dawn or noon. No words that were sweet affection were exchanged between them. There was no holding each other, hugging, kissing, and just being there with each other, close and content.
Neither could remember the last time they had said an ‘I love you’ to each other.
It used to be always in the mornings, before bed and throughout the day.
It made Y/n exhale while turning to lay on her back as they slept with their backs turned to each other. She tiredly stared at the ceiling unable not to look over at Jimin whose back was still turned to her, it was like a big ice wall fell and blocked them off. ‘It’s fine’ kept repeating itself in Y/n’s head as she pursed her lips and grabbed her phone to see that the time still flew and didn’t wait for them. It did not wait and they were wasting time away from each other when they could be making it meaningful.
The footsteps outside were heard now and Y/n knew that they didn’t have more time to sit and wallow in their sorrows of holding onto something that wasn’t there.
“We have to start getting up.” The girl mumbled just to make sure that the first alarm had managed to wake up Jimin. It did for Y/n because she hadn’t been able to fall into a deep slumber because of all the thoughts.
It was harsh, it was like a strong tornado carrying all types of feelings in it came through the room and cut through Y/n’s skin. “I know, Y/n.” The softness was gone and Y/n bit her lower lip because despite it all they hadn’t been like two snakes around each other, ready to bite and leave venom any second. They hadn’t tried to make it sting more than it already did, but it seemed impossible to do for too long.
The younger still caught the sweet scent of Jimin that made the moment slightly less bitter, reminding her of all the good times when she’d be drowned in the scent. The duvet was thrown off of Jimin who got up from the bed, grabbing the hoodie from the chair on her way and all she left behind was a whirlwind of unspoken emotions after leaving the door ajar when she walked out.
Y/n grabbed the little bear that fell beside her and stared at it, looking for answers in the tears she knew that Jimin was shedding every night. She pretended that she didn’t hear it, that she was asleep, that she simply didn’t know that she was making the girl cry. It was easier that way and in the morning she would look at the bear and still get no answers. She couldn’t acknowledge her silent cries because they would have to do something about everything if she did.
Practice went as usual, almost as usual for the two of them. They both wondered if the rest had noticed their lack of communication and how they occupied themselves with the others to not make eye contact by accident. If they did notice, it wasn’t like any of them would comment on it since Y/n and Jimin’s relationship wasn’t their business.
It didn’t even seem to be Jimin and Y/n’s business anymore as neither of them spoke about it.
Still half panting, Y/n sat on the couch with Minjeong as the two got engulfed in the Nintendo 3DS Y/n had brought with her. There was an emptiness that she hadn’t been able to grow used to, she had become so used to having someone always right next to her for the past three years. It wasn’t constant clinging to each other, but even the small things such as brushing their legs or glancing at each other. The loss of that made a void grow bigger each second and the only thing that would fill it was if things went back to how they used to be.
It made Y/n wonder if Jimin felt the same and so she glanced away from the game, her eyes landing on her girlfriend. She was so used to it so she wasn’t sure if it was Jimin specifically or just a habit that was hard to let go of now, all that affection. The girl was busy talking to Aeri and no matter what they were doing someone’s back was always turned to the other. Y/n’s hoodie-clad the girl’s upper body and Y/n tilted her head, thinking about how maybe that was what brought Jimin the comfort of having someone next to her, just the warmth and scent.
Their confusion about the situation was what made it hard for them to get back to the intimacy they used to share.
The door opened and Ning walked in with their manager, catching everyone’s attention as it got noisier when they started to all converse while making it to the couch. However, Y/n looked back down at the 3DS to occupy her eyes with something for a few more seconds to not try to figure out where Jimin would sit this time.
Aeri was about to sit on the wooden floor, her eyes seeing the lone spot left beside Y/n as Ning was already on the floor by Minjeong’s legs with her drink and one of the pastries. Jimin made sure to insist that she could take the spot, but it still left her in an awkward spot on the floor by Y/n’s legs. Her shoulder brushed against them, bumping into each other constantly and she couldn’t bring herself to sit still, especially not when all the emotions were bubbling inside her.
She couldn’t remember being this emotional before.
How else was she supposed to be when everything felt out of control and she had no clue what to do? There was nothing she could do no matter how hard she tried to catch everything only for it to slip right through her fingers.
Jimin wanted to cry when she took a sip of her drink and something just had to top it all off when her order seemed nothing but wrong. Everything in her life was crumbling, she was in pure distress and despair. However, things only could get worse–they had yet to reach the bottom–and not better because among the cold there was always a warmth as she tried to stop the pout on her lips while staring at her drink.
Jimin felt like a puddle of water in the middle of the road, no one appreciated them and walked around them and all they did was harbour filth; filth being these feelings that only grew bigger, the mess of a puddle becoming bigger too.
She looked up at the hand that took her drink, her glossy eyes meeting Y/n’s for a split second.
The younger felt a heat shoot through her body, it was as if she broke a limb at the pain that she felt seeing Jimin actually harbour these tears and not just cry at night when she thought that Y/n was asleep. It hurt her chest, she cared about Jimin, and she knew that she always would because before she became her lover she was her best friend and member. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. Y/n had no clue who she lost in this silent war they were stuck in.
Was she losing a lover? A best friend? A member?
“You can have mine.” Y/n knew her, Jimin hated it because it made everything even harder and Y/n could see the way the tears grew as quickly as a high tide in the girl’s eyes. She looked hurt, she was hurting, they were hurting, but they continued to do so without saying anything. Why could Y/n tell from a certain pout that Jimin wasn’t satisfied with her food or drink? Why did they have to be so caring for each other? It made cold things warm and they had no clue why things were cold to begin with.
They didn’t want to lose it.
She took the iced green tea she knew that Y/n loved and the younger took her drink. All it took was a sip of it and it all got overwhelming once again because the thoughts didn’t stop crashing inside of her head, exploding and occupying every corner of her mind. It made her wonder if Y/n was busy thinking the same things throughout her whole day too and the thought of being the only one to do so hurt immensely.
“I will be back–restroom.”
The girls hummed, going back to what they were doing as Jimin excused herself, leaving everything behind her and she wished she could do that with the reality that she didn’t want to live in. It was haunting her.
She missed the days when her biggest worries in a relationship were that the promised forever wouldn’t be long enough and not that everything had possibly dropped dead like flies around them, that the forever would never happen. It was a painfully slow dance in a burning room that neither of them left just to see if they could still survive once everything had crumbled fully and the smoke had filled their lungs.
Y/n knew that letting time pass would be too painful to sit through. Nothing was waiting for them. Even if it meant a bigger gap, she gave her 3DS to Minjeong who continued on the game while Y/n had become a pawn in a game no one was controlling. It was a game of chaos no one could cultivate anything out of, no order, no logic, no helpful solutions. This was a game of walking a thin line of nothing and everything.
It was too tiring, walking inside the bathroom felt like getting locked in the confines of a place where no one would ever find her, no one would see her. No one would see if Jimin broke down in the bathroom and it made relief wash over her and the tears spilled like a broken dam. That was all it took and she tried to calm down, but it wasn’t possible as she turned on the faucet, letting it run to drown out her snivels and deep breaths.
It was exhausting to be crying almost every day, she didn’t know what sleep was anymore and all she lived for was sorrow, she lived to continue hurting.
Why did they make something simple so complicated? Love was what made it complicated.
She used the pads of her palms and wiped at her eyes while tilting her head back and letting out a shaky breath. It felt like there was no calming down from this and each second only made it worse. The silence despite the running water, the echoes in the tiled bathroom, and the stalls empty.
Jimin could still remember all the other times she had been crying in the same bathroom when everything felt like it was all for nothing because she couldn’t feel fulfilment despite her achievements. She could remember the way her girlfriend would end up in the same bathroom, coaxing it all out of her, taking all her burdens and carrying them for her. Could Y/n do the same thing now when they both were in the same shoes?
Everything reminded her of Y/n except Y/n herself. They both felt distant and like different people.
Even the light knock on the door was familiar and she took in a shuddering breath, turning to look at Y/n when she opened the door. It fell closed right after, her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants, restricting herself from all those instincts that always kicked in. Her eyes followed the hesitance that was clear in Jimin’s body that pulled to Y/n, but with so much trouble as she held the sleeve of the hoodie against her trembling lips.
“Come on,” Y/n mumbled, knowing that it was all that was needed to get the girl to just break down fully. “It’s okay to not be okay,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around the girl’s shoulders who shook in her arms. The hot tears were burning against her pale skin, wetting her neck, trailing down and spilling like they never had before. Her cheek rested against the side of Jimin’s head, pulling her closer to her body, into her warmth because it was all still the same, but it felt different.
What was it that exactly wasn’t okay? It wasn’t just them themselves, but them together and it ended up making both of them not feel okay.
Jimin tightly wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, crying into her neck. She got pulled closer, her head being cradled by Y/n’s hand. All of it made it impossible to hold the walls up, the ones that were supposed to show that she wasn’t as bothered by it as she truly was. In reality, Jimin could barely breathe through it without falling into a panic attack. Hearing Y/n’s words, and hearing that it was okay made it so much easier to let it all out, especially when she was with the girl and held by her.
The reassurance that it was okay to cry about the landslide made it easier. Y/n recognised the burdens and Jimin wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry for how I took it out on you in the morning.” Y/n only hummed, holding her close as Jimin had been a rose with its thorns aimed at Y/n since they woke up. From the harsh words to the ways she blatantly shut her out even when it was a small question not to her girlfriend but to the leader of Aespa. Jimin was scared and it was affecting her role as a leader too, as a member of the group. The fear was consuming her life fully and was getting in the way of everything.
“I’m just so tired and I can barely sleep at night.” Or maybe she could sleep just fine but chose to cry at night instead of closing her eyes. She woke up more tired each day, every little second got more exhausting than the other.
“I know, I’m sorry for all of this.” The younger knew all about it, but what she didn’t know was what exactly she was apologising for. Y/n knew that Jimin was crying at night because of what was happening between them, but she knew that it wasn’t her fault or Jimin’s. It was natural, it would have happened at some point, right? Y/n inhaled, closing her eyes because it hurt her, but seeing how much it affected Jimin made it hurt so much more and it made everything more complicated.
“We can’t keep going without knowing where it’s all heading. I’m confused and–” Y/n stopped her before they got too deep into the truth because neither of them was ready to let go just yet, neither wanted to end it just yet. They needed some more time, some more time to find more than just one option to end their pain. There always was more than one choice.
She pulled away from Jimin, her upper body lingered with the warmth that the shorter girl left after her. Jimin gripped at Y/n’s sweater, knowing that once they let go they would be apart for what would feel like years again. The void between them would become even bigger than it already was and they would avoid it for much longer.
“I care about you, nothing will change that and it’s all fine, Jimin.” She held her face cupped in her hands, tears hitting her skin as the girl looked up at her with quivering eyes. They knew that these false paintings of their relationship would make them feel better for now. Not in the long run, but they tried to live in the present–it didn’t matter if they reminisced and avoided the problems of the present.
Jimin blinked her eyes, trying her best to run into the daydream, trying to escape reality. Her eyes closed, hoping that she would be thrown into her daydream as Y/n kissed her forehead.
She missed the pretty sunset sky, the fireworks, the green grass, the clouds that came in different shapes and would be fluffy. It was like a childish dream and possibly some people had been right when they said that young love was complicated. It wasn’t like they cared, they had always felt like teenagers in love with each other.
Why wasn’t it working though? Where did it all go? It no longer felt like a daydream. It no longer felt like it used to do.
It was so difficult to grasp something that physically wasn’t there, neither of them could grasp it, at the feelings. Love was so beautifully painful the way it painted them with all these different colours. The canvas would always be filled with them and to the eye it would always be beautiful but to the souls that served as the canvas it would always be heaven and hell. Among white there was blue, among blue there was green, among green there was red and it went on.
The daydream was constantly corrupted by the harsh reality.
It was like walking a tightrope.
The smallest mistakes felt deadly.
The stupidest mistakes.
It would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that there was so much on the line.
It was part of the social culture and Y/n had happened to fall victim to it because a few cigarettes had turned into a pack or two a week. What were her reasons? Probably all that went on in her hectic life, but it hadn’t been easy to sneak around with an addiction. It got especially hard when the dorm arrangements changed because she and Jimin got together.
Y/n had managed to sneak around for a whole two months. All it took was one week of sharing a room with Jimin who gave up on pretending that she didn’t notice the lingering smell of tobacco on Y/n and slowly herself.
‘Fine, I will quit for you.’
‘Not for me. For yourself and your health.’
‘Doing it for you makes it easier.’
‘Only if you don’t start doing it again. It will hurt to think that doing it for me wasn’t enough.’
‘I promise.’
Even the simplest promises were being broken. It felt all the more hopeless.
It was hard, to say the least with starting to dose down on how much she smoked until it was nothing at all. Y/n had never thought of herself as someone who grew addicted easily, but nicotine turned out to be a bitch and even a year and a half after quitting the cravings came back. There were certain times when they were extra tempting, it made her irritated and restless. It was times like these that she always had her substitutes for them, from nicotine patches to nicotine gum or simply Jimin.
This time it felt like Jimin was the cause of the cravings.
The world around them no longer felt real because of how they had surrounded themselves in a fake reality.
“Did you slam the door in my face?” Venom, that was what Jimin spat out, pure venom behind her words as she locked the door to the green room. The rest were out and talking to their label mates, but it was better to make sure they didn’t walk in if they came back earlier. The last thing Jimin or Y/n wanted was for the rest to notice that everything around them was crumbling, that it had all become a smoke screen.
Y/n inhaled deeply, rummaging through her stuff, ignoring the clatter as she was on the brink of losing it. “I didn’t and if I did, it wasn’t intentionally. I had no fucking clue you were behind me.” It was a low mutter, but it was just as poisonous as Jimin’s tone which had been louder. At the back of her head, Y/n had been expecting Jimin to be right behind her, she was the whole reason why she was buzzing with cravings.
“You slammed it in my face and an apology wouldn’t hurt you, Y/n.” Jimin had no clue why she was letting it drag on. She could have dropped it, she was aware that Y/n didn’t know and even if she did, Jimin knew she deserved ten more doors slammed closed in her face.
“You want me to apologise?” Y/n snapped that easily and it had never happened between the two of them–the cravings only made it worse together with the tension of constantly being on their guard not to let anything slip past them.
They never really fought to begin with. All those small fights that never meant anything, that never held any real frustrations, it was different now. Those pent-up emotions came out and spilled right over the head of the other. Y/n wanted to throw it at Jimin because her girlfriend had been doing it since they landed in Tokyo. They were being petty for the sake of being it and not for any good causes. Y/n tossed the stuff onto the table, ignoring the even louder clatter of the things and continued to look through her stuff.
“Called manners.” She commented. It was like she knew that something so simple would irk Y/n more than she already was, especially in this state.
“Oh, so Karina wants to talk manners.” Y/n huffed and turned around, leaning back against the table. Her arms crossed as she gripped onto her arms, hiding the tremor in her fingers as the anger and everything else was overwhelming. She hated fighting with the girl, but it felt inevitable when they were alone in the room with so much tension already lingering between them.
The past couple of fights they’ve had been nothing but hurtful with no apologies after, pretending it never happened to begin with.
Jimin’s eyes squinted at the words, Y/n barely called her by her stage name even when they were on stage. Hearing her bring it up was enough to let her know what Y/n was pointing at.
Jimin was falling under the pressure of juggling work and a relationship she could no longer figure out. It had never been a problem for them, but she felt like she had failed her role in the group by letting personal conflicts get in the way.
Nonetheless, it would be impossible to admit to now when they were in an argument that grew by the second.
“Don’t comment on my work ethic when you barely have yours under control. You’re being sensitive.” She argued, knowing very well that she had been letting her complex emotions and confusion about where she and Y/n were heading get in the way of her professionalism.
“You’re the one crying over a door.” Y/n scoffed in disbelief, pointing at the door in question that was behind Jimin. The girl pulled on the strings of her hoodie in frustration at Y/n’s words. It only fueled her on, she couldn’t remember being able to get this angry with Y/n before, she had never thought that she could get angry with her. Or maybe it wasn’t anger that she felt towards Y/n, but just frustration because of how confusing their relationship had turned. How dead it was.
Maybe she was angry at herself, at the world, or at how confusing love could be. She was angry at the fact that they let it die to begin with.
“Because you slammed it in my face!” This time she let her voice fly way above what she imagined she would, her foot stomping down in frustration. The tears welled up in her eyes so easily, that constant haunting fragile mentality as everything was hurting and it didn’t let her breathe.
“Because you are doing a shit job at being a leader!” Y/n watched Jimin pace around, watching how desperately she tried to get rid of her tears. Those tears of frustration, not knowing how else to take it out she yelled at Y/n and cried, but there was only so much that could cover her tears now.
“Don’t comment on my work ethic, Y/n.” She repeated and found herself in front of Y/n, it almost felt dangerous to be so close to each other at a moment like this. It was scary because they had never had these fights and being so close to what used to be just comfort felt wrong, it felt wrong to bring these feelings into their safety net.
It ruined their purpose, the place they went to when they wanted to escape these feelings, the pressure, the world. It was all truly gone, wasn’t it?
She could feel it all spiral, leaving them with no control over what happened between them in the room.
“Someone has to when you forget how to separate relationships from work. Be a fucking leader and answer a fucking question instead of shutting me out because of our personal life.”
“It’s not easy when this is what it looks like!” She threw her arms, motioning to the mess they were together, the one they both had been avoiding because of how complicated it was. It was hard not to notice, but impossible to truly acknowledge and so it all mixed into everything else.
“Nothing is ever easy for you, is it? That’s why I always become your punching bag when things go wrong.” The words left Y/n bitterly, her hands gripping onto the table behind her as she exhaled these deep breaths that helped with nothing. Watching Jimin with tears in her eyes wasn’t helping, but Y/n felt like the girl had been trampling all over her. She was using her title as a leader and girlfriend in a nonchalant way, she was neglecting Y/n as a member and not a lover.
“That’s not true and you know it.” Jimin knew that it was all true, her tone faltering as she would feel even more guilty if she raised her voice to spit out lies. It hurt too much to say the truth of the situation.
“It has been even more true lately,” Y/n muttered, her eyes leaving Jimin’s.
It felt like the woman in front of her was trying to coax her into forgiving her without Jimin having to apologise. Y/n was done doing those things. She couldn’t put it all aside like all the other times when she accepted Jimin’s apologies she never even said. The ones where Y/n blatantly admitted to being wrong even when she wasn’t because she didn’t want to fight or see Jimin cry.
“Because–because—” Now came the difficult part for Jimin who had no good excuse for this and she knew that she was wrong. The problem bigger than this one was her pride and ego, they got in the way, especially now after how tense everything has been.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing is changing.” It made Jimin’s heart drop, Y/n’s stomach twisting at her own words that she never wanted to say. It was what it felt like though.
She gently grabbed Jimin’s shoulder to have her step aside as she stood up to walk out the door.
“Don’t say that.” A quiver fell from between her lips, a lump in Jimin’s throat that cut deep and made it all bleed much worse than it already was. Her hand grabbed Y/n’s to have her stay because, in the end, she didn’t want her lover to leave, not just yet and she quickly stopped in front of Y/n. She would never accept those words, not now at least because hearing them made her lightheaded, it made her chest clench and she wanted to collapse onto the floor to be swallowed before she could feel more pain.
“Where’s our manager? I need her to buy cig–”
“You’re not smoking just because things go wrong for us!” It wasn’t possible to speak with a quivering voice, it was too soft so she raised her voice again. She still cared about Y/n as a member, friend, lover and person, it didn’t matter what was going on between them. Jimin would always care about Y/n. Her hand bunched up the material of Y/n’s shirt in her hand as to keep the girl from leaving her. She refused to let go, in the end, she wasn’t supposed to want anything else but Y/n and even if her feelings were different she clung to that idea.
That there was only one person for the both of them.
“Is this something else you want to cry about!? You didn’t bring my shit with you because you’re being petty and expect me to break habits.” It had become a habit, Jimin had become someone Y/n relied on with most of her things. If Jimin had been packing certain things for her it had become a habit that she would do it every time and it never crossed Y/n’s mind to do it herself anymore.
It had never bothered Jimin either and now it was doing nothing but pissing both of them off. Those flaws they had accepted and learned to love before were nothing but a hassle to deal with now and they wanted the other to erase them and change. To change so they could learn to love these new people they would become.
“If you said that you quit for me then fucking keep the promise or will you break them all just because it isn’t working out for us at the moment? And I’m not your mother, Y/n, why do you rely on me packing your fucking things!” She shoved Y/n by the shoulder, wanting to get her away from her even for a split second because she was boiling over with emotions. It would never end well no matter who they were fighting with when there were too many emotions.
Jimin felt conflicted at her own pushing and pulling as she one second wanted no one but Y/n and the other second she couldn’t stand the girl.
“Everything I did for you feels like a waste at the moment when all you give me is headaches, Jimin.” Y/n’s voice was rough and loud, ignoring that they had more performances tomorrow. Jimin could feel the vibrations in her ribcage and she harshly wiped away the tears. It felt like Y/n didn’t deserve her tears at this exact moment, not after those words. She snivelled, still unable to stop them though because how couldn’t she cry when this was what they were now?
They continuously watched what they used to be washed away with each wave that clashed with their shore and dragged away the good to leave filth behind instead.
“I fucking regret even giving you an ounce of my time and life because you’re nothing but a pain to look after. You don’t get to be angry at me because I had to worry about not forgetting my stuff and yours on top of everything!” She couldn’t help but feel like all the blame was now coming her way and maybe she had let Y/n get too comfortable. Jimin couldn’t help it then, but the longer it went on the more she realised that it wouldn’t work that way.
“You’re like a manchild for fuck’s sake.” Jimin groaned out as it continued to dawn upon her how much of an immature child Y/n could be. Had she been blind all this time? Why did she suddenly mind it? Why were these words even leaving her mouth when she had always loved and accepted Y/n for the person that she was? Were they just looking for reasons to make it all stop?
“You made it a habit and I stuck to it. Suck it up the same way I have to suck up when I’m your punching bag whenever things don’t go your way.” Y/n couldn’t help but truly realise how much she always let Jimin get away with. The things she would say, the things she would do that hurt, Y/n always forgave her for every little thing because Jimin could do no wrong in her eyes. Jimin was spiralling right now because Y/n hadn’t forgiven her yet for how she had been pushing the younger girl around for the past few days as a member of the same group.
Here she was, still letting the woman in front of her shove her around and blame her for her own mistakes. The way she always forgave Jimin within seconds when she saw tears in her eyes even if Jimin was in the wrong. Y/n felt played by the older now as she realised how their dynamic had worked.
Y/n would always be the one to take the blame even when it wasn’t hers to take.
Jimin would always be the one to suffer from how much she took on herself willingly because Y/n couldn’t do it.
“You were playing video games instead of packing even after you saw how stressed I was with my stuff. You got upset over your motion sickness patches, your headphones, fucking lenses and now your gum. I’m fucking surprised you packed your clothes!”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t even enter the room without you getting pissed off because I would breathe. I’m not the one being immature but you, Jimin. You are the one who mixed our relationship into work, you’re the one who isn’t professional–” The older girl could feel herself boil over with anger with each point that Y/n made, each word pushing her closer to the edge. She felt like the points Y/n made were being invalidated, Y/n had yet to accept it for what it was and Jimin hated having the truth about herself being pointed out this way.
“–the one to force habits and then thinking you can just switch them up within a second because you suddenly don’t like what you wanted. Not the whole world revolves around you, but you’ve been too fucking selfish lately to realise it.” Despite all the coldness between them and all that seemed gone, they hung on because every day small things happened that gave them hope–small gestures were enough and they were brought back to the past. It felt as if Jimin hadn’t been trying to work towards each other, but away from each other. “I’m always looking out for you and caring for you.”
Jimin was simply too scared to move anywhere at all because it felt like the smallest mistake would make what was left fall apart fully. She felt paralysed by how scared she was of the truth. It was like having bricks constantly pile on her chest, it was difficult to breathe with them there, and it was difficult to move with them there. The girl felt like she was chained to the pits of hell while staring up at heaven in hopes of it coming down to her.
What it ended with was it looked like she was selfish for being too scared to move, as if she wanted the world to revolve around her. And maybe if it did it would make everything easier for her.
“Go fuck yourself Y/n and stop trying to make yourself look like a hero when you make as many mistakes as I do.” Jimin scoffed and wiped at her eyes as she pushed past Y/n, they both felt completely neglected and invalidated by the other. The reality of what it always has been wasn’t easy to swallow because it had never bothered them until now. She was aware that she made mistakes, but Y/n made them too and couldn’t claim the title of a hero when they did as much caring as they did hurting.
Y/n turned on her heels as Jimin pushed past her, she could see the anger, despair and distress clouding her. It was like a grey cloud over their heads, constantly being there for them when they didn’t want it. “It doesn’t excuse your mistakes either and considering my girlfriend won’t do it, yeah, I will ‘cause she’s too busy being stuck up.” Y/n could tell that the last of her words were too much, that they were too disrespectful and insensitive, and that she shouldn’t even be thinking about it right now. Maybe Jimin was right about being nothing but a ‘manchild’.
Y/n truly felt the consequences of her words when Jimin felt them dig deep into her heart and it was enough to throw everything else out. It was just for a second and she knew she could regret it and feel guilty about it later. The stinging on her palm would subside, but feeling disrespected by Y/n for the first time in her life would linger far longer as she turned back around and landed it across the younger’s cheek.
“You’re an immature fucking child, Y/n. I’m not just for your pleasure and needs, so fucking respect me.” She spat out, holding onto the girl’s shirt with her stinging hand as it all shut Y/n up. The two were able to very clearly see through each other like glass, it wasn’t even like glass, but air from how clear it was and all they could see was pain and hurt. They caused each other pain and hurt and everything else they used to make each other feel was gone—but then came those moments where it wasn’t gone even if it was for a second and so they held on.
They both felt horrible as Jimin grabbed her things while wiping her tears, not sparing Y/n more glances. All she knew was that she needed to cry to let it all subside for even a bit. Y/n slumped down on the couch, the nicotine cravings slapped out of her. She held her cold palm against her cheek trying to ease the pulsating pain she knew she deserved and Jimin did too as they both were suffering for keeping each other chained down.
Maybe they had never been perfect, to begin with.
Were all these things stuff they had always wanted to say and they now took the opportunity to do so since everything was already falling apart? Did they hold back on saying these things before because they were scared that they would ruin everything? Or were these things something that should have been brought up a long time ago to make it work out?
They couldn’t answer that. No one could because it was too late.
Jimin had known that she would feel bad after, that the guilt would eat at her. She was terrified that their relationship had taken a new step forward, towards a goal they didn’t want to reach when Y/n slept in Minjeong’s hotel room. The two peers–in age–were close in the end and so Jimin spent the night tossing and turning wondering if the truth would come out now. That their love was under ruins, crushed and bleeding to death, setting the truth in stone and burying what they used to have six feet under to start a new life.
She wondered if Y/n spent the whole night awake. Jimin could barely fall asleep knowing they were in the same bed, but with their backs turned to each other, let alone after what happened. She could barely sleep because of how her insides twisted in hopes of escaping to get away from the excruciating pain. The part of them being away after what went down only made her even more anxious.
The girl got her answers the next day when Y/n was tired and Minjeong went on about her day without a single knowing glance or word.
They had avoided each other unless they were on stage, but the second they came off it was back to normal. The new normal, they both missed the old normal but they seemingly couldn’t go back to it.
Or so they thought because once again all that they had been missing poured over them like a rainstorm.
The simple idea for all of them to go out and eat after the days of performing. There had been an undoubtful tension between the two and not for the same reason they would like to think. It felt horrible to sit beside each other without having apologised for what had happened. However, the longer they sat at the table the closer they seemed to get, but it could have been the alcohol in their veins.
“I swear, it’s the first time these two aren’t all over each other.”
Y/n felt a slight heat shoot through her, one of anxiety at Ning’s drunken words because now everyone seemed aware of the situation. It could have been the fact that they dared to speak up about it when they were drunk. Y/n didn’t know what it was, but she toyed with one of the side dishes, knowing that she and Jimin always got more affectionate when they were drunk.
“Tired, that’s all…” Y/n mumbled, trailing off as she looked over at Jimin who sat right beside her–the rest continuing the chatter. The two had been coming closer and closer with each shot of soju and every beer they finished. They could feel the other's heat on them, craving each other in this state no matter what had happened between them for the past months. They craved the affection of the other so much that it hurt, it was boiling from the inside and they were waiting for the other to cave in so they could be close.
She watched for a second more as Jimin struggled with the marinated perilla leaf, lip between her teeth as she gently swayed, going over her limit this time. Y/n would always be the one to cave in for the older girl. Jimin rarely drank more than she could handle and even that was a lot, but Y/n could tell she was trying to drown herself further. The older woman was already drowning in all her emotions and trying to drown them in alcohol only intensified it all and Jimin felt like she would burst any second and start begging in front of everyone else.
Y/n turned in her seat the slightest, her attention on the woman who was still the most beautiful one she had ever seen. The one she desired, but it was all so different no matter how beautiful they both were to each other. Her right hand reached over to Jimin, brushing the hair behind her ear and reaching with her left for the leaf.
Eyes were glossed over, like polished glass from alcohol when Jimin finally looked up and Y/n picked up the leaf, her hand still holding back the hair so it wouldn’t get in the way.
It was crushing both of them. Jimin felt her world brighten up with hope that had no space in their world anymore, but she wasn’t letting go yet. Y/n fed her with eyes gazing over Jimin’s features, feeling excruciating pain at the fact that she had made her cry, at the fact that they kept hurting each other unintentionally by holding on. It was worth it when these moments still managed to slip through the cracks and let in some light.
Y/n let go of the latter's hair and wrapped her arm around Jimin’s waist when she leaned into her, resting her weight on Y/n’s side. Her hands found Y/n’s warmth as they pushed under the girl's loose sweater, doing all the holding on that she could.
“I miss you.” They were sentimental words as Jimin gently whispered, her breath brushing over Y/n’s neck and the younger girl pulled her closer. Y/n took in a deep breath at how homesick she felt for a home she no longer had. They missed each other, they missed what they used to have, but no longer did and it dug into their hearts with no care, tearing them into pieces at how messy it felt.
“I miss you–miss us,” Y/n mumbled, their world shutting the rest out, inhaling the smog-filled air of everything that had burned down to ashes. Jimin hummed as her eyes closed, hoping that the drunk sentiment would be able to suffice for now even if it was for just one night. All they needed was one night to figure it out, to get to feel what they missed and see if they could bring it all back to life. She felt Y/n’s soft lips press against her head and she nuzzled her face further into the scent that used to be a home and now was only what was left of one.
Her lips gently pressed over Y/n’s skin, her nails gently scratching over Y/n’s back as she moved her other hand up. She cupped the younger’s face, thumb caressing the porcelain-like skin she deeply regretted putting her hand on but she couldn’t regret it when she thought back on what they said to each other. Jimin deserved to suffer for her actions and Y/n deserved to suffer just as much. They would continue until they did the necessary.
Y/n got her head tilted down and looked at Jimin who rested her head against the younger’s shoulder. Her eyes pleaded for a remedy for all the heartbreak even if it was for just one night. To just get away from reality for a few hours. Her fingers brushed over Y/n’s cheek. Y/n gave a small nod and reached over for the beer she had left, finishing it and hoping it would all last long enough and not end the way it did a few days ago.
“Will you guys mind if we leave early?” The girl asked, but it was already set in stone as she grabbed her jacket and helped Jimin up. They looked over at the two who were closer to each other than they had been for the past few months as Y/n put her jacket over Jimin.
“Not at all,” Aeri replied, the rest humming in agreement.
It was a short walk to the hotel, wrapped up in each other the whole way and not letting go for a second as they walked in silence, scared to let go or say something that would make it difficult to be this way again.
They at last did let go as they walked inside the hotel room, but it all shifted for a second as Y/n kicked off her shoes and sat down at the foot of the bed. There was no escaping this landslide, the clash that destroyed so much as she missed what she used to have with Jimin, but had no clue if they could get that back. It tied knots around her heart and tugged on it constantly.
The latter managed to get her shoes off, the jacket falling after her as she walked over to Y/n. Despite the slight blur, she could see clearly through everything else and now was the only time she knew she could apologise.
It used to be easier.
“Y/n…”
The girl took a deep breath and looked away from her hands and at Jimin who kneeled beside her. Her chin rested against Y/n’s thigh as she stared up at her girlfriend, her lower lip slightly jutted out. The younger one hummed, her hand running through Jimin’s hair as she caressed her scalp gently, missing the touch of someone else. The back of her fingers trailed over Jimin’s cold cheek who grabbed hold of Y/n’s hand, intertwining their fingers.
The silence braced them as they stared at each other, heads tilting, ears filling with the heavy yet soft breaths from alcohol-filled veins, the buzz of the outside world only faint. That silence of acceptance of what their love was, what it used to be and how it no longer was.
Jimin heaved a sigh and rested her cheek against Y/n’s thigh, staring off into the dimly lit hotel room. The sentiment of sorrow, sadness and nostalgia as everything had become too farro reach now and it would be hard to save anything. If they could continue to pretend then everything would go back to being fine. If they lived a lie long enough, it would become their reality.
“I’m sorry about the other day—” She mumbled, slumped on the floor and her gaze moved as she tilted her head to look Y/n in the eye. Their eyes connected, filled with the buzz of alcohol, and the perception of the fake reality they had created in their head washed over them. Those small gestures that made hope wash over them wouldn’t change anything, would they? They didn’t want to think about it. “I shouldn’t have raised my hand,” her lips momentarily formed into a pout at the disdain she felt for her actions.
Jimin knew there was no excuse for it even if she felt like an emotional wreck. They were losing control and it was starting to deeply affect them. They were going full speed through crossings with no hands on the wheels, covering their eyes to not look at the truth and soon enough they would crash right into a wall.
“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Y/n always let Jimin get away with everything and nothing would probably ever change that.
Jimin shook her head, lifting it from Y/n’s thigh as she got up to stand on her two feet. Y/n’s fingers tangled into the sweatshirt the girl had on as she stood between her legs. Despite the slight tremors in Jimin’s fingers, buzzing with more than just alcohol, but also a surge of feelings, the uncertainty, longing, feelings of loss and hope; she cupped Y/n’s face in her hands. Her touch was soft as Y/n’s glimmering eyes met her.
“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did either.” Y/n mumbled, closing her eyes and resting in Jmin’s hands who caressed her features with her thumbs. They still would always melt at the affection because it was normal to crave, but it didn’t feel like it used to. Aside from it feeling good, those other things didn’t spread across them. “I’m sorry.”
That sorry felt like it was for more than what happened in that room and Jimin knew it. She knew that the apology was because they both genuinely felt bad for letting a promise of forever die.
‘I love you.’
‘Never stop loving me, Y/n.’
‘I will love you forever, I promise.’
‘I will love you forever, Y/n, I will always care about you.’
‘Don’t cry, Jimin, I’m always here for you.’
Jimin deeply exhaled and closed her eyes before she could let the tears even form and with a lump in her throat she closed the gap between them. Their lips met in a kiss to suckle on the hope left in them. It was eagerness, it was to forget and not to remember. Y/n’s hands grabbed hold of Jimin’s hips, pulling her closer.
They tilted their heads to meet tongues that tasted as bitter as the beer they had and the longing for what they had lost, as sweet as the sake they downed and the reverie they lived in. It was with desperation because it felt like it was the last of them that was left and they would do everything to latch onto it and stick forever. The forever they had promised.
Jimin ran her fingers through Y/n’s hair, pushing deeper, wanting to feel more, she needed more. She needed Y/n, she missed the touch against her body and that was all that it felt like for them now. The fulfilment of each other’s needs and nothing else as Jimin discarded Y/n’s sweater, letting it fall to the floor. Her cool hands ran over the warm skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, emotions swirling under their skin as they pulled away to remove Jimin’s top.
Their eyes locked, looking for something, searching, but they had no clue what they were trying to find anymore. It ended quicker than expected and their lips met once again, meeting tongues and letting out desperate sounds. Y/n’s fingertips grazed over Jimin’s skin as if the girl was made of gold, the gentle and careful touch making the latter bubble with more need. She ran them over her sides, tracing every ridge, coming to her spine with one hand as the other slid over her ribs until she reached the hem of Jimin’s jeans.
With ease she undid them and as they fell to the floor the older girl straddled Y/n who huffed at the weight that pressed down against her growing cock. As Jimin looked Y/n in the eye, the girl reached over to her face, brushing away the black strands of hair. She could still see a sparkle in Y/n’s eyes, but it was flickering. It wasn’t there for the same reasons that it used to sparkle. This was for the lust that would always linger inside their veins.
“Make me feel good, you owe me this,” Jimin mumbled, knowing that they both owed each other this for the things they had been putting the other through for the past months. This was finally their chance to make the other feel good in a way that was more than just sentimental. There was no sentiment in lust because it had never been part of it, but now it ruled them.
She grabbed Y/n’s hand which was still by her face and captured those sweet lips while guiding the hand to the back of her bra. Jimin trailed her kisses away from Y/n’s lips and along her jawline, slowly going further and nuzzling her nose into her neck. The scent was still one of her favourites. She took it in and ran her tongue over the skin before wrapping her lips around it.
It made Y/n stall with the bra, a faint whimper falling from between her lips as Jimin slowly started to gyrate her hips, rolling her heat against Y/n’s that was straining against her jeans. “I want your lips on me Y/n.” She breathed out against the red mark, wanting to feel the pleasure, they both wanted to be brought out of this hell they had painted as heaven. This was their chance.
Y/n bit her lower lip, her neck being plated with kisses by Jimin all while the girl continued to press against her cock, grinding slowly while releasing shaky breaths between kisses. The girl managed to undo the bra and only then did her girlfriend pull away, letting Y/n remove it fully whose eyes focused on her chest right away. Jimin’s words hadn’t fallen deaf to her ears and all she wanted was to give the girl exactly what she wanted. This was the only thing that they could make work.
“I love every inch of you.” Any other time the words would burn within Jimin’s soul and leave their mark and they had done so permanently, but they no longer reached as deep. They were all for the outside as they had changed from the inside towards each other.
Her fingers tangled at the back of Y/n’s head, gently making her look her in the eye as she tilted her head. “Show me instead.” It was like a whisper, her lips ghosting Y/n’s, knowing that she would be able to feel more from actions rather than words now.
Y/n manoeuvred them, laying Jimin down on the bed, legs wrapped around her waist as she stood by the edge of the bed. The girl bunched up the duvet beside Jimin’s head, taking one last look at her chest before she leaned down to show how much she appreciated her body. With fingers tangled in her hair and nails scratching her scalp Y/n started to leave scorching kisses along Jimin’s skin.
Her tongue soothed over the pulse, tenderly kissing down, her kisses tickling as she trailed down, taking in the soft hums and breaths that the girl let out. She came down to her collarbones, grazing her teeth over them, leaving her marks after her as those were the only good ones they managed to leave on each other now. Everything that went deeper hurt.
A faint gasp left Jimin’s mouth when lips fervently latched onto her chest, all the heat running through her body and shooting straight to her aching clit. “Fuck,” was all that she could mutter at the warm tongue playing with her nipple, sucking on the tender flesh. Y/n’s devotion to what was left of them was shown through the way she consumed her flesh, leaving her bites to linger.
Y/n moved her mouth to the other nipple, her hand coming down to fondle the older’s chest. It was enough for more sounds to start coming from Jimin at the way her nipples were being played with and her chest littered with kisses. It made her thighs tense around Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer and when the rough material pressed against her cunt a moan fell from her lips. The younger girl hummed, pressing more against Jimin while toying with the hard nipples with her mouth and fingers, twisting and pulling, touching her in a way only she knew.
It was yet another thing that was hard to let go of. The fact that they knew each other’s bodies so well and knew exactly what to do. It was all working against what should be done and driving them towards pipe dreams.
Her chest heaved, losing her words as they all came out breathless, being greedy for more to fill all the emptiness that had been growing for the past months. “You’re so good, baby.” She hummed, her eyes closing as her mind finally went empty, it went silent with everything else and all they could focus on was the moment and not what was and what would be. It was enough to make Y/n’s hips press more into Jimin, slowly moving them for friction while leaving the older’s chest glistening.
She slowly started to move down further, kissing along the heaving slim stomach until she was on her knees in front of Jimin. The lacy black underwear seeped through with her arousal and Y/n’s fingers hooked at their hem, looking up at Jimin who was sitting up and looking down at her with lust-clouded eyes. She leaned back against her palms, raising her hips and letting Y/n peel off the last piece of her body.
Her hands ran over Jimin’s thighs, spreading her legs further apart while biting onto her lower lip at the view of her glistening pussy that was leaking with juices. She lifted the girl’s leg and rested it over her shoulder before she started to kiss along her inner thighs, gently biting and sucking on the soft flesh as her hands needily kneaded them. It made Jimin heave a sigh, her hand coming to grab hold of Y/n’s head, dwelling in the feeling of the butterfly kisses left along her inner thighs.
Through her hooded eyes, she watched Y/n, making eye contact every time the younger looked up through her lashes for approval of what she was doing despite knowing Jimin’s body better than most things. Her fingers pressed into the flesh as her arm was wrapped around one of her thighs, inching closer until she reached the girl’s heat. It was enough to make the older girl squirm the slightest when she got pulled closer to the edge before feeling the wet muscle drag between her folds.
Y/n grabbed hold of her waist with her free hand, holding Jimin in place to not have her squirm too much. Her tongue ran between her folds, spreading the wetness as she dipped her head and circled the grasping hole. The grip on her hair tightened, ears being filled with soft moans and whimpers as she continued to work her tongue and lips around the puffy cunt. She sucked on her lips, enjoying the mess that was spreading on her chin, lapping every little bit up to get more on her tongue.
Jimin slowly felt herself lose her mind at the teasing tongue, Y/n taking her time to continue working her up. The need continued to bubble inside her, her clit throbbing for attention and her hole clenching as she wanted to be filled until she would feel numb in the brain for at least a few minutes. This was finally something they could grasp at, the escape from everything even the daydream they had created, getting to a real one even if it wouldn’t last too long.
The light moans filled the hotel room when Y/n’s lips at last wrapped around her swollen clit, her tongue coming out to flick at the bud. The pace between slow and fast, sucking and flicking was making Jimin’s thighs tremble around the girl’s head. Her fingers were tangled in Y/n’s hair, pulling her closer to her pussy as her hips faintly bucked at the pleasure.
Y/n drowned, getting as much pleasure from drowning between Jimin’s soft thighs as the girl above her was feeling from the tongue that was toying with her needy cunt. She caressed her heaving stomach with her other hand, kneading the plush flesh of her thigh as she felt Jimin pull her further into her with her leg that was on her shoulder.
“Fuck, Y/n–” She whined, her breathing picking up and growing heavier the longer her clit was played with. She could feel it all slowly approaching her and soon enough she would reach the edge and fall off of it.
The girl dipped her head, her nose rubbing against the swollen clit and her tongue lapped at the juices. The room filled with the sopping sounds of Jimin’s pussy and moans and Y/n’s mouth messily eating her out, moaning at the taste and tugs on her hair, her cock throbbing at how good it felt. With the sticky mess collected on her tongue, she circled her clit and went back to flicking at it and tugging with her lips.
“So close, ‘m so close, baby.”
Her body started to tense up, Y/n’s ears muffled at how the thighs locked around her head with her head being held in place. It made her sore tongue work harder to be able to hear Jimin’s voice go up higher.
That was enough for the older girl to lose her control and the sounds started to spill from her mouth, moaning Y/n’s name in a high pitch. Her body got consumed by heat as her vision blacked out and her ears started to buzz when the orgasm hit its peak as Y/n continued to flick at her clit. It was making her whine and buck her hips for more until she felt herself crash back down to reality. She heaved for air, loosening her grip on Y/n’s hair and the girl slowed down, only leaving small kisses along her skin that was scorching.
When she got back up on her feet their lips met in a vivid kiss, Jimin’s hands working on Y/n’s jeans to undo the loose material. She tugged them down together with Y/n’s boxers, her hand wrapping around the thick cock that was scalding in her hold as she pumped it, smearing the precum as she reached the swollen tip. The whimpers that fell from Y/n’s lips were swallowed by Jimin, moaning into the intense kiss.
She pulled Y/n down, making her lay down on the bed, the younger girl moved back until she was in the middle of the bed, leaning against her elbows. Her eyes were on Jimin who got on the bed before crawling over to her. They got engulfed in each other's heat as she straddled Y/n who slumped back, running her hands over the girl’s thighs and to the back of her ass to caress it.
“No one knows me like you do.” She whispered, leaning down and letting her lips brush over Y/n’s with her fingers tracing along her jawline. No one knew Jimin like Y/n did and no one knew Y/n like Jimin did and even if it looked the way it did, they carried that fact with pride. She pecked the girl's lips, pulling away and letting Y/n chase after her as she tried to grab hold of Jimin’s face, but got her hands pinned down to the bed.
“Jimin–” She tried although was cut off as she let her head fall back against the mattress, fingers twisting the duvet as her wrists were held down by the girl on top of her.
“I hate that now.” She admitted, hating that no one knew her as well as Y/n and that no one would ever get to know her as well again. They had learned from their mistakes and now no one would ever be able to compare. There was no one she would open up to like this again, not when it hurt so much when it all died. They didn’t want to go through this pain twice when they never wanted to experience it to begin with.
“I know.” Jimin huffed, her lips brushing over Y/n’s neck because obviously, the younger girl would know that Jimin hated it now. “Do you regret it?” Y/n mumbled, doing her best to not squirm under the girl who was leaving light kisses along her neck. The words from the other day still lingering, but Jimin knew that she never meant what she said about regretting it.
“No matter how much it hurts–” Jimin pulled away and looked Y/n in the eye, the younger’s head tilting to the side as she stared up at her with hopeful eyes. Y/n’s eyes alone were enough for Jimin to know the answer, she knew it right away as she reached her hand down to Y/n’s face, one still holding her wrists down. Her thumb tenderly caressed along Y/n’s cheek and over her lips. “I could never regret everything I’ve given you.” And everything she gave was all that she had after she placed herself in Y/n’s hands and she would always be there even if what made her give herself in the first place had withered.
Her thumb tugged down on Y/n’s lip before she leaned down and attached their lips once again. Sighs fell from between their lips, Jimin’s hand running between their bodies to grab hold of Y/n’s cock.
Y/n pulled away from the kiss, panting for air as her eyes fell between their bodies, watching Jimin drag the swollen tip through her folds, the slickness and warmth were enough to make Y/n bite back a whine at how good it felt. The grip on her wrists tightened when her tip made contact with Jimin’s clenching hole, slowly pushing into the tightness that sucked her in.
“So tight.” The younger mumbled, her chest heaving at the anticipation as she watched herself slowly disappear inside of the girl on top of her, splitting her folds with her cock. The tight walls engulfed her length, grasping it and sucking her inside with greed as they continuously clenched at the stretch.
“You make me feel so full.” Jimin sighed with a whine at the slight pain.
Y/n’s eyes stayed glued on how her cock got engulfed by Jimin’s tight pussy, splitting her lips around the thick shaft and she slowly moved. The older girl hummed, letting go of Y/n’s wrists. Both her palms rested on top of the girl’s stomach with her nails slightly digging in at the painful stretch. Hands caressed her thighs while she lowered herself until she felt Y/n deep inside her, filling her to the hilt.
Y/n dropped her head, shutting her eyes tightly when she was fully inside Jimin who let out a light moan at the feeling. Her cock was throbbing, twitching at how good it felt, the warm and wet walls were pulsating around her and her stomach flexed with every little move.
She slowly started moving her hips back and forth, her clit still sensitive from her first orgasm as it dragged along Y/n’s pelvis. Her walls fluttered, and being filled up was making her crave more at how good it felt. The feeling of Y/n’s veiny cock raw inside her tight cunt was overwhelmingly good, making out each vein that dragged along her walls.
She gyrated them as they whined back and forth on Y/n’s dick whose lips were parted at the way it dragged along the clenching walls. Her ears were graced by Jimin’s soft gasps and sighs, nails digging into her stomach. The older’s thighs flexed, her walls pulsating and clit throbbing as she slowly increased her speed, chasing her pleasure by using Y/n.
“I love using your cock to make myself feel good,” Jimin whined, her head getting thrown back and Y/n groaned at the words that made her dick ache inside the hot and wet cunt of the girl. Their bodies moved and fit together perfectly like waves that collided against waves, their bodies buzzing with that feeling from the inside as their head splashed with desires.
Her chest heaved at the sight of her girlfriend grinding along her cock, watching how she chased her high once again. The sounds were starting to get more lewd with each moan falling from the girl’s lips, Jimin’s wetness coating Y/n’s base and the mess only got bigger.
“You look so good doing it.” Y/n could feel the way the walls clasped around her at the words, the girl taking all the pleasure in using Y/n for her benefit as Y/n enjoyed it just as much. The way the girl would go on and have her orgasms before Y/n even got to think of hers.
Jimin was on top of her with a vice grip on her cock with her sopping cunt. Y/n’s hands were on her the thighs flexed with each movement and her tip was hitting all the right spots deep inside her. She watched the way the older gasped and threw her head back, dragging her swollen clit along Y/n’s pelvis. Jimin reached behind her and held onto Y/n’s tense thighs instead, rolling her hips in a way that was making her stomach tighten and warm up as she fucked herself on top of the girl.
“I’m so close, baby–fuck, so good.” Her voice cut into a higher pitch as the orgasm started to wash over her with her hips bucking for more and Y/n’s thumb found its way to her swollen clit. She circled the bud as Jimin kept bucking her hips against her, watching the way her chest bounced with each movement.
The throbbing walls clasped around her cock, squeezing it tightly enough for the movement to slow down. Her thighs quivered and she let out cries of pleasure, her voice light and bringing Y/n closer to the edge at how good she looked on top of her. Nails dug into Y/n’s thighs, heat pouring over Jimin’s whole body at her second orgasm.
She heaved for breath, stopping her movement and shivering at the shocks going through her warm body. Her body got engulfed in Y/n’s arms when the girl sat up, her cock still buried deep within the confines of Jimin’s pulsating pussy. She wrapped her arms around Y/n’s shoulders, palms running over her back which was covered in a sheen of sweat.
As Jimin looked at Y/n, she didn’t want to be done yet, she wished she could drag this out for the rest of her life. To make this serene moment last forever as their bodies became one and all that had been on her mind disappeared. Those worries were gone, it was just now, the present forgotten and the future didn’t exist until it was tomorrow and by then it was present again.
She tangled her fingers at the back of Y/n’s hair, slowly moving up and down while pulling Y/n more into her. Their breaths mingled, parted lips grazing until she caught Y/n’s lower lip between hers and gently tugged. It was all that they needed, to be back in each other’s arms, to be close and it started to ignite the spark of hope although it didn’t seem to glow strong enough as it continued to flicker back to life before disappearing.
“I miss you–so much,” Jimin mumbled as she pulled away, moving her hips back and forth as Y/n’s breaths grew heavier. The younger buried her face in the crook of her neck, planting tender kisses. Jimin could feel it all coming back, maybe she hadn’t been drunk enough, or maybe no matter how drunk she was on lust and alcohol she would never be able to drown out the pain of a breaking heart.
The alcohol and lust weren’t able to mend their hearts.
Y/n looked up when Jimin pulled her away from her sweltering neck, their eyes met, Jimin’s were glimmering and the entry to her soul had always been open for Y/n. The longer she stared into the window of her soul, the more she realised how crushed Jimin was and it was enough to clarify that they were both suffering. Her hand smoothed over Y/n’s jaw, running along it as she tilted the girl’s head back, her movement not stopping as she watched Y/n slowly crumble under her.
It was shattering her insides to see Y/n this way, the same way it was shattering Y/n to see Jimin like that. They had never thought that the person they loved the most would be the one to destroy them the most too.
Love was lethal no matter how much two people loved each other.
“Fuck–” Y/n breathed out, being cut off by Jimin’s soft lips, the girl could feel the length inside her grow harder and twitch as it was clasped inside her heat. They swallowed each other’s moans until they no longer could and the older’s pace picked up, her ass colliding with Y/n’s thighs each time she went down while letting out quick and sharp breaths. Y/n’s hands gripped onto her ass, fingers digging into the soft yet firm flesh as she helped Jimin move, feeling the movement slack off at times.
A soft and light moan escaped Jimin’s lips, grounding herself down on Y/n’s cock, arms wrapped around her shoulders as she panted against her neck. Teeth dug into her shoulder, the whimper suppressed from the younger as she could feel the ropes of cum shoot one after another into her, painting her walls white. Y/n pulled away from her shoulder, slipping out of Jimin’s warmth as they eased down to reality.
Everything stilled as the younger girl still held Jimin in her arms, caressing her warm back while taking deep breaths. It felt like neither of them planned to move any second as the girl snuggled closer into Y/n’s neck, burying her face in the crook of it, her eyes shutting tightly.
It was making Jimin’s chest heave at the panic she felt because she could only watch it all slip through her fingers, unable to do anything to save it.
The attempt to suppress her sobs was feeble as the first one slipped through and then a second followed and her tears were staining Y/n’s skin once again. “Jimin–”
“I’m scared, Y/n.” She cried into her neck, sobbing and snivelling as it overwhelmed her once again, this time she wasn’t able to hold back on releasing what was heavily on her chest. It didn’t matter how scared they were to bring up the obvious because the thought of how it would end was terrifying. Neither wanted it to end. However, the realisation dawned upon them and it would all end much sooner than intended if they did nothing about it.
“I’m right here.” Y/n slowly pulled her away, manoeuvring Jimin’s body like fragile butterfly wings that could crumble with a little too much pressure. The girl continued to cry, pulling her knees to her chest, crying into them as Y/n draped the duvet over her, covering her naked body.
She couldn’t grasp at it, at how all the promises died the second their love did, that they made promises they couldn’t keep and it never should have been this way. They promised to love each other forever and they did, but it no longer was the love that was beyond care and compassion. It was adoration and not love, the love; was gone.
Jimin refused to accept it, no, she couldn’t accept that and would dig through every little corner until she found something that would help the withered flower bloom back to life. She’d shed all her tears until her eyes would be bleeding just to have enough to water their flower of love that had died. There had to be some way to save it even if it hurt, even if it hurt more than it already did.
Y/n got back onto the bed after she pulled on her boxers, Jimin was still crying into her knees until the younger girl sat behind her, the duvet resting over the both of them. She held back on her tears as she cradled the weeping girl’s head, lending her shoulder to cry on once again and she would continue doing so until her last breath. It would never matter what type of love they held for each other, she would always care even if everything else they used to have that was deeper had died.
It was a death neither of them knew how to cope with.
“I’m here for you.” She reassured her, kissing the top of her head.
“I hate this, Y/n—” Her sobs cut through her words, her hands gripping the duvet before they let go, feeling hopeless; what was there to hold on to in reality? There was nothing to hold onto as they both freely fell through hell for each other. It made them weak in so many ways. “Nothing is the same anymore and I don’t know what to do.” Acceptance was hard for anyone, it had always been hard, but it was even harder when it came to something they made their whole lives revolve around. How could they just accept that their worlds no longer circled the other?
It stung, it hurt deeply to think that this was possible, something they had never thought about had become their reality. The flower that bloomed with their love was dead. Yet these tears and the pain they felt at the thought of needing to let go made them want to try again. One last try to revive something that had been dead and cold for months. If some miracle happened, they would be able to bring it back to life. Their love would bloom from a dead flower at some point, they would continue watering it with their tears, crying over the dead flower that was their love in hopes of it coming back to life.
“We can make it work again.” Y/n wasn’t brave enough to say the words, she wasn’t strong enough to say them for Jimin and herself. To admit for the both of them that what was lost was lost and that it was time to say goodbye and bury their love because there was nothing to save once it was already gone.It was too difficult to bury it when they had yet to accept its death. They had no clue how to cope with everything.
It was eating at them, tearing them apart and glueing them back together into an even bigger mess.
“We can fix everything,” Y/n reassured, knowing that these could as well be empty words and new promises to break, but she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t give up on Jimin even if they were mistaking care and compassion for a small ember of love that they could turn into a fire. That fire had gone out a while ago and what was left were ashes.
“Do you think that’s possible?” She whimpered, wanting to do anything to try and grasp at that false little ember of hope.
“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered, just as uncertain, but she would do anything for Jimin even if it meant ruining herself.
They couldn’t know, but at least it was reassurance that they didn’t have to let go yet and could continue no matter how much it hurt because it would hurt even more if they were apart. It was too difficult to let go of someone they had built their lives around. They would hurt for each other and they would choose that over happiness with someone else because no one would ever be able to give them what they used to have.
They longed for each other’s love. They missed it and just wanted to feel it again but it was all gone. It no longer felt like it used to and they missed those feelings they used to have. Where did they go wrong for it to happen in the first place? What were they supposed to do to fix it? Let go and move on. Stay and continue to drag through the impossible to try and fix it?
They weren’t in love anymore, they just loved each other.
#jimin x reader#karina x reader#yu jimin#aespa x reader#aespa x g!p reader#aespa#aespa smut#yu jimin x g!p reader#karina smut#yu jimin smut#aespa fanfic#fanfiction#girl group smut#kpop smut#smut#g!p reader#angst#karina angst#karina x g!p reader#yu jimin angst#jimin x g!p reader#hurt/comfort#yu jimin x reader#karina imagines
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Hey….. soz if this is too much but can you do this https://www.tumblr.com/fallingdownhell/715302705397202944/i-absolutely-love-your-works-can-you-make?source=share
but with tighnari, wanderer and heizou thanks
Always. I always like me some angst with comfort<3
Characters Included: Wanderer; Tighnari; Heizou
Summary: you have an argument with the boys, since they've been neglecting you for their work
Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; some angst; hurt/comfort; some swears and mean words; Wanderer is referred to as Kuni/Kunikuzushi
Word count: 3,6k words
Enjoy<3
Wanderer
You love your boyfriend. You truly do.
But between him helping out the Dendro Archon and now having enrolled in the Academiya, it felt like you didn't have a boyfriend at all anymore.
You rarely got to see him, and the times you did, he was so stressed and on high alert that he would probably snap at you if you were to bring up any topic that might put more stress onto him.
So instead, you just put up with his even more grumpy attitude towards you, trying to help him with whatever you could, hoping that it might take the edge off him a bit. But nothing ever seemed to work.
On the contrary, it has only gotten worse. For the past few days, you haven't seen your boyfriend. At all. He didn't come home and he has not been seen wandering the streets of Sumeru City.
You got so worried that you decided to pay Nahida a little visit, asking if she knew of the whereabouts of your dear boyfriend. She apologized to you, informing you that he had tasked him with something important, but that he should be back by today.
And true to her words, Kuni did come back home that night. However, once again, he paid no attention to you at all. He only laid down and fell right asleep, claiming that he was exhausted from his trip to the desert.
That was the point where you couldn't take it anymore. You understand that he has a lot to deal with currently, but that doesn't give him the right to treat you like you didn't exist. So, you decided to confront him in the morning, before he would leave again, hoping that a conversation could help clear things up between the two of you.
So, you made sure to wake up before him, making yourself and him some small breakfast like you like to do. When he comes down to eat with you, you greet him a good morning, which he only answers with a grumpy hum.
"Kuni.. we need to talk.", you decide to start, not wanting to take this attitude from him any longer.
A frustrated groan leaves his lips, rolling his eyes into the air. "Really, (Name)? Now? Can't we do this another time?"
"Yeah, sure. Just let me know when you decide to acknowledge me living here with you again. No, Kuni. We talk now. I'm done being treated like I don't exist."
At that, the Wanderer starts to gets defensive of his actions and soon enough, you two are in the middle of a full blown argument, loudly shouting at each other. Every semblance of a normal conversation has long left and you were now basically spewing insults at each other, none of you willing to acknowledge the others point of view.
"Gods, why do you always have to be so annoying? Maybe, if you weren't so god damn clingy all the time, I'd pay more attention to you!"
The words leave his lips and as soon as they do, he can see a flash of hurt shine in your eyes, which you quickly try to hide. But he's already seen it, and regret slips into his body.
Silence ensues, you're just staring at each other for a few seconds. You wait, hoping that he'll take back what he said, but nothing comes from him. His lips stay sealed as he just stares at you.
"So, it's my fault now? I'm the one at fault for you basically ignoring my entire existence? Making me question if I even have a boyfriend at this point? Because that's what it feels like. I don't get to see you anymore, I have to walk on eggshells around you, and then you go and blame me for it? Do I really mean that little to you?"
Your voice is dangerously calm as you say that, tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes, but you force them to stay down for now.
You see something shine in his eyes, but you can't put a finger on what it is before it's gone again, and he averts his eyes from you. A few more silent seconds pass and you're about to just get up and leave, when you hear him mumble something under his breath.
"...-ong."
"What was that?"
"..You're wrong.", he says, looking back up at you. Now, you can clearly see the conflict in his eyes, shining bright like he's begging you not to make him say this. But you just cross your arms in front of your chest, urging him to go on.
"I... you're wrong. You.. do mean something to me. More than I like to admit. I shouldn't have put the blame for my actions on you. I... I don't want you to leave. And.. I'll try better from now on."
For a moment, you look at him, contemplating his words. This would probably be the closest to an apology you would ever get from him. But when you don't answer him, you can see him starting to get a bit restless, squirming in his seat.
"I.. I'm... sorry..", he mumbles quietly, but you still heared it. Surprised by this, you can't help but let out a low chuckle, which instantly catches his attention.
"I just want to help you, Kuni. If there's anything I can do to help with the stress, let me know. Just, please don't ever treat me like this again."
Hearing you say that, he closes his eyes and nods his head, relieve washing over his body. And for the first time in a few weeks, he decides that it's not too bad if he shows up a bit later, just to make up for the time he missed spending with you.
Tighnari
As head of all the Forest Rangers in Gandharva Ville, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Tighnari to be stressed. It happens quite frequently, actually. And although being stressed regularly isn't a good thing, it helped him come up with ways to handle it and destress again after a long and tiring day. Because the last thing Tighnari ever wants to do is let out his frustrations on his partner.
He's usually very great about communicating when he's particularly stressed, and if his words aren't a dead giveaway, then usually his tail and ears are. When things get too overwhelming for him, his tail hangs a bit looser than it normally would and his ears would also fall a little bit more. It almost makes him look like a soaked puppy. You'd tease him for it if that wouldn't sour his mood even more.
But this time, it was something different.
He wasn't particularly stressed with work or anything. But one one of his patrols through the forest, he ran into an undiscovered species of flowers. All exited about it, it has been all Tighnari has been focused about for the past two weeks.
It's all he's been talking about as of late, if you even get the chance to talk to him in the first place. Most of the time, he's cooped up in his little work place, often forgetting to take meals and breaks because he's so focused on studying the little plant and learning everything there is to know about it.
You bring him meals on a regular basis, but if you really want him to eat them, you'll have to stay with him and nudge him consistantly to take a break and eat, or he'll forget about it.
You tried talking to him about it, but he keeps shutting you down, claiming that it won't last much longer, only until he knows enough about it to figure out if it can be used in some new medicines and such. Though he did promise you to try and focus back on you and Collei a bit more.
That promise lastet for one whole day before he skipped out on dinner plans with you and Collei again. You decided that enough was enough, so the next day after the dinner, you went to him to confront him about his inexcusable behaviour.
He was exactly where he had always been these past days, you were sure he heard you approach him, since you didn't exactly try to sneek up on him, though he did not acknowledge your arrival at all.
"Tighnari, we need to talk.", you begin, walking over so you were now standing next to him, your arms crossed in front of your chest. He didn't even look up when you adressed him.
"Later, (Name). I think I'm onto something here.."
"No, not later. Now!", you stay firm, not wanting to delay this talk any longer.
Hearing your response, Tighnari answered with an annoyed sigh, but he finally placed his tools down and turned to look at you.
"Fine then. What's so important that you just have to interrupt my work here?" He raises an eyebrow, almost like he's challenging you, like nothing could be important enough for you to justify this interruption.
You however stand your ground, holding his gaze firmly. "Your behaviour is what's wrong. You've been so focused on this stupid thing that you forget about the people in your life. Like yesterday. You promised to have dinner with me and Collei. She didn't show it, but I know how sad and dissapointed she was when you didn't show up. Again."
"I'm sure Collei understands perfectly fine just how important my research is, unlike some other people, it seems." Hearing this from him, you couldn't hold back the pent up anger and frustration anymore. You unleashed it all which in turn made Tighnari even more defensive and soon enough, you were in the middle of an heated argument, your shouting to be heard by almost every single person currently within Gandharva Ville.
And though almost everyone was on your side and agreed that Tighnari had been working too much, they also felt a bit bad for him. No one would want to be at the recieving end of your anger.
The argument kept going and going, emotions continuing to boil up inside both of you, until one particular statement went over Tighnari's lips. "You know what? I don't have time to deal with you right now, (Name). I have far more important things to do. I don't need you constantly lingering around and distracting me. Honestly, you're annoying me."
Suddenly, it became almost deafeningly silent and a second later, his words catched up with Tighnari. His eyes went wide and he was about to say something, but you beat him to it.
"So, what? We don't matter to you? Am I just some form to pass time when you have nothing better to do? Is that all our relationship is to you? And what about Collei? Is she also not important to you?"
Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes and Tighnari wanted to reach out to wipe them away. He hated to see you cry, even more so now because he was the reason for it in the first place.
His hand moved on instinct, but before he came even close to touching you, you turned on the spot and dashed out of his hut, leaving him standing there.
"Wait, (Name)!", he shouted, taking off and running after you. You were fast and had a head start, but he has always been the faster runner between the both of you.
Outside the Village, he caught up to you and caught you at your wrist. You came to a halt, but refuse to turn around and face him. You don't want him to see you crying, though you're both aware that he already knows that you're crying.
"(Name), please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I even said it to begin with. You're not annoying me, never. Our relationship is important to me, very much so. I realize now that I made a mistake by focusing too much on my research and neglecting you. And Collei, too. I promise to do better from now on."
"..You've already promised me that once, and didn't keep it. Why should I believe you now?", you question him, which he couldn't blame you for. Your voice was shaking, you were trying so hard to hold back the tears, his words from before obviously still clinging to you.
"You have every reason not to, but I swear to you, that this time will be different. I swear to you that I won't let this happen, ever again. Please, trust me."
You stay silent for a bit, desperately wanting to believe him. In the end, your heart wins and you slowly turn around to face him. A small nod is noticeable before you're being pulled into his arms, his hand coming up to hold the back of your head against him.
You both stay like this for a bit, just enjoying to be in each others presence again. Only then does Tighnari realize just how long he hasn't had the chance to hold you like that, and he silently curses himself out for his own stupidity..
Heizou
Being a renowned detective comes with many benefits, but also a lot of disadvantages at the same time.
The more cases Heizou solves, the better his reputation gets, but he also makes a lot of enemies, especially in the high society fields. Not everyone always agrees with his view on justice and how he wants to achieve it, but Heizou doesn't care. So long as he follows what he thinks is right, he won't falter.
However, he is thankful to the gods above for a partner like you, who's supportive of his beliefs and decisions. He loves that you don't question him and that you understand how important his work is to him.
He knows that you've already had a lot to sacrifice for him. How he sometimes has to cancel date night because of an important case, but he's always made up for it more than enough.
So yeah, you're aware just how important his job is to Heizou. You truly understand..
But it has never gotten to a point like it has now.
For the past week, you haven't seen your boyfriend. At all.
He doesn't come home anymore, he's either cooped up in his office or out and about searching for clues. Kujo Sara told you that they've gotten a pretty serious case, one that Heizou leaped onto and is determined to solve, no matter what it takes.
Apparently, what it takes is for him to sacrifice all of his time and effort, probably forgetting that he has a life and a relationship outside his work, as well.
You tried to be understanding, even came visiting him in his office a few times with some homecooked meals or snacks. But every time you did that, he barely acknowledged you, barely even touched the meal.
You tried having some small conversations with him, but you either got short, one word answers or nothing at all besides a hum. Eventually, you gave up and just let him be, but it's been a week now since he's taken over the case and there's still no end in sight. And for the past three days, since your last visit to his office, you haven't seen or heard anything of your boyfriend.
So, on the eight day, you decided to try again. You cooked a nice meal for Heizou, packed it up and made your way over to the Tenryou Commission headquarters. Entering the building, you got a few nods as greetings from people who knew you, as you made your way straight to your boyfriends little office.
Arriving there, you took a deep breath before you knocked two times. When no answer came, your heart slowly began to sank. What if he's outside searching for clues again? Still, you decided to peek in regardless, just to be safe.
And sure enough, Heizou was sitting on his desk, multiple files and papers spread out in front of him as he was frantically reading through them.
"Hey babe.", you greeted him with a smile, but there was no reaction. Heizou didn't look at you and he didn't say a word in return. Still, you didn't want to give up just yet.
"I brought you something to eat. Figured you might want a break and something homecooked to eat."
You placed the lunchbox on the furthest outside position on his table that was still free, yet again, the action was not acknowledged by him whatsoever.
Twirling your thumbs, you wait for a few seconds, before you make another attempt at conversing with him. "So.. how's the case going?"
Suddenly, the papers fly to the desk, his hands slamming against the wood and finally, he turns to face you, though his expression looks almost furious. "It would go better if I didn't have such an annoying pest interrupting me all the damn time!"
Shocked at his sudden outburst, you stare at him. "Wow.. you don't have to be so mean about it."
"Apparently I have to, because you just can't take the hint when I don't engage with your stupid attempts at conversation making. Like, can't you see I'm too busy to entertain you right now, (Name)?"
His words stung, like he'd just slapped you in the face with them. Tears began to form, but you refused to show him just how deep his words had hurt you. But you knew that he knew. He saw the hurt in your eyes, and you saw realization flash through him as his words catched up with him.
But you didn't give him time to say anything else. He wanted you gone, so that's what you were giving him. Turning on your heels, you left his office, not bothering to close the door behind you. You could hear the yell of your name coming from Heizou, but you ignored it.
On your way out, you passed Kujo Sara, who gave you a pitying look as you walked past her. You didn't want her pity. You just wanted your boyfriend back, but it seemed like that was out of reach for now.
When you were out on the street again, you didn't know what you should do now. Going home wasn't an option, there were too many things that would remind you of Heizou back there, and you didn't want to think about him right now.
The beach... a while ago, you found a beautiful, kinda secluded spot by the beach. You decided to go there for now, maybe it would help freshen up your mind and how to move on from here on out.
The waters were mesmerizing today. The waves were calm and the sun was reflecting off the surface. You sat down in the sand and just stared out to the horizon, your thoughts beginning to wander.
You were so deep in thought that you didn't notice the time passing, the sun soon beginning to set, dipping the scenery into a serene red that you only rarely get to see. A shiver ran down your spine, but you didn't care, you didn't want to go back home just yet..
"Here you are!", a voice suddenly cuts through the silence and you flip around, recognizing Heizou who's jogging over to you. However, you decided to pay him no further mind, turning around again and staring right at the horizon again.
You take notice of his presence now next to you, but you still don't say anything. No words are spoken between you two as he sits down next to you and does the same as you, blankly staring at the ocean.
There's no indication that tells you how much time passes like this, just you two sitting next to each other in silence, until Heizou speaks up again.
"I'm sorry. About what I said earlier. I shouldn't have done that."
"..Then why'd you do it?", you question him, no emotion in your voice. He hated to hear you like that.
"I... You just came at a really bad time. And I know that that's not an excuse. Not at all. I was so close to the breakthrough in the case and I just... snapped. Again, that's no excuse and I'm really sorry about that. When I realized what I had done, Sara was coming over to me, no doubt about to lecture me. I just threw my files at here, told here the updates and then chased after you. I thought you would be going home, but when I didn't find you there, I began searching all over the place for you. And I found you here, in the end."
He ends his little monologue with a shy smile, scratching the back of his head. Then, Heizou's expression turned serious again.
"I mean it. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. You didn't do anything wrong. You were right, honestly. I kinda forgot about you and invested too much time to that case. I'm sorry and I promise I won't let that happen again, ever."
Hearing those words from him, you can't muster more than a small nod as a response. You didn't want to argue anymore with him, you just wanted to spend time with him and feel close to him again. That's all you wanted and needed right now.
So, you slid closer to him and leaned your body against his, your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you from behind, his head coming down to rest on your shoulder.
Tomorrow, you could talk about this more with him. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy this moment with him.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin scenarios#genshin impact scenarios#genshin hurt/comfort#genshin impact hurt/comfort#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x you#scaramouche x you#wanderer hurt/comfort#scaramouche hurt/comfort#tighnari x reader#tighnari x you#tighnari hurt/comfort#heizou x reader#heizou x you#heizou hurt/comfort
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The way things were before (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader)
This was inspired by the last episode of the latest season where we get some Muzan lore. This is kinda my first time writing real angst so tell me what you think. Keep in mind this is based on the anime and I haven't actually read the manga.
Pt.2
Check out my other works here: Masterlist.
Anger.
Ever since Muzan was young, one emotion he always felt was anger. It stuck to him like a tumor, destroying him from the inside out.
He felt anger for his illness that prevented him from having a real life. He felt anger for having to be tested on by doctors nearly daily. He felt anger that people looked down upon him as he grew weaker and weaker. But more importantly, he felt anger that nothing changed. He never got better, he never got stronger, no matter how much time went by.
As he aged, and his illness got worse, Muzan accepted the fact that his anger, his hatred for everyone would never leave him.
That was, until he found you. His beautiful, wonderful child, the only thing that could quell the rage inside of him.
You weren't his biologically, no, but that didn't matter to him. Before he was too sick to leave his bed, Muzan found you orphaned living on the streets and took you in. Ever since, you've been repaying him by taking care of him.
"Father, it is time to take you medicine." There you were, right on time. Muzan refused to take his medicine from anyone else, even his most notable doctors.
He was too weak to sit up, simply moving his head to acknowledge you, watching as you sat down in front of him. Muzan didn't complain as you moved his head so the medicine could travel done his throat more smoothly.
Once done, you lay his head back down, putting the small bowl down next to you, blessing him with a kind smile. "How are you feeling today father?" You question.
"I'm doing fine now that you are here, my child." You giggle, the smile reaching your eyes. A small smile graces Muzan's face at your happy demeanor. Even if it is only for a second, Muzan is happy.
"Oh, I almost forgot." You gasp, "The doctor has new medicine for you, he wanted to give it to you himself."
Muzan let out a childlike groan, rolling over to face the balcony. It was beautiful outside, but Muzan couldn't help but feel annoyed. The sun was too bright, the wide was too strong, the birds were too loud. Even the thought of having to interact with his doctor for a second caused his blood to boil.
You roll your eyes at him, "Father, you have to take your medicine, the doctor knows better than me." He does move to face you, but you could tell he was annoyed.
"The doctors are incompetent." He moves back on his back; his brows cross in frustration. "They have been treating me for years, but here I remain, trapped in by bed." He laments.
You frown at his words, looking away from your father with sorrow. You remember a time when he was still healthy enough to spend time with you, your favorite days being when he would grow flowers with you, teaching you about their meanings and medical uses. But now, just standing was enough to strip him of all his strength.
You've been forced to watch as your father grows more resentful for the people around him, hating his doctors, maids, even gardeners for simply existing, being able to live the life he most desperately wanted. On days where his illness is at his worse, he mumbles about wanting to destroy them all, something you assumed was delirium caused by the medicine.
Even though your father has changed, you still love him, and you can't help but see him as the carefree, happy man he was when you were younger, even now. It's why you so desperately want him to get better, so that maybe you could go back to the way things once were.
"Father, I promise they just want to help." You try and talk some sense into him, though his resolve doesn't budge. You sigh, "it would make me really happy if you let the doctors give you the medicine." You put emphasis on the word really, in hopes it would motivate him. To your luck it did, Muzan moving to face you, sighing at your pleading face.
"Fine." Was all he said, feeling warmth bubble up in him as you smiled. You leaned down and hugged him the best you could.
"Thank you, father." Muzan smiles, happy once more.
---
You haven't visited you father in days, him forbidding you from entering his room a few days after he took the new medicine. You didn't mind though, it probably had some bad side effects, so you left him alone. Though, you couldn't help but question whenever he ordered for a worker to enter his room, especially when you swore, they never left.
Today was the final straw, you had to see your father. Workers had been disappearing left and right, and you knew your father was not going to be happy about it if you kept it from him.
As you get closer and closer to your father's room, a stench more disgusting than anything you've smelt before entered your nose and caused you to gag. You would've thrown up than and their if you didn't cover your mouth quickly.
The smell only got worse as you slowly crept towards the door, it nearly becoming unbearable. You swallowed down you fear as you knocked at the door. You could hear the faint sounds of crunching, like someone was chewing on something tough which made heartbeat against your ribs.
"F-father, are you in there." The chewing stopped and your heart sank. Your hands shook as you heard someone move towards the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing your father covered in blood. He smiled down at you creepily, a stark contrast between the horror that covered your face.
Muzan moves to cup your cheek in his hand, blood smearing on your face. He could hear your fearful breathing coming from your nose as you inhale and exhale in rapid succession. He rubs your cheek, trying to calm you down as you look into his room, seeing the mangled-up bodies behind him. Your breathing became even more erratic at the sight, Muzan simply sighing with a frown.
"(Y/N), you don't understand-"
"You killed them, father." You whisper, backing away from him.
"I am much stronger now; I can protect you." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. What was he talking about?
"You killed them." Your repeat you back hitting the wall. Muzan was directly in front of you, looking down intimidatingly. For the first time in your life, your father scared you.
"I had to, my child." He answers, his voice calm, but you could sense his annoyance. "It's the only way I can remain strong."
You don't say anything as he moves closer, hugging you into his chest as your world went dark.
---
It's been years since that day.
Your now older, more aware of the situation you're in. You father was now a demon, forced to consume humans in order to live. You realized quickly it was from the medicine the doctor gave him, and you curse him everyday for doing so.
He took your home from you, forcing you and your father out of your village. He took your life from you, forcing you to remain hidden with you father. Most importantly, he took your father from you, him now a husk of the man he once was.
Along with the myriad of strange side effects, your father couldn't go out in the day, the sun causing him immense pain, one of the only few things that could hurt him.
You learned to treasure the mornings, them being the few hours away from your father. While he was busy learning all he could about his aliment, you were trying to maintain the image of a normal human being. Working, socializing, anything you could do to forget about the atrocities your father committed when the sun set.
You wish things would go back to the way they were before.
"-N)? (Y/N)?" Oh, you were in the hospital, getting blood work done. You look over at the doctor in front of you, him attempting to get you attention.
You've been feeling terrible for the past few days, constant headaches, hot flashes, soreness. You could barely move without pain. You got blood work done, now waiting for the results with anticipation.
"I just wanted to ask you a question before giving you the news." His voice is solemn, not giving you a good feeling. "Does your family have any history of illness?"
You want to answer yes, but that would we wrong. You're not Muzan's child, so you shouldn't have inherited his illness. "No, my father was plagued with illness years ago, but he's...better now and I'm not his child biologically."
The doctor nodded, looking away dejectedly. When his eyes finally met yours, they were serious, "You've developed a rare blood disease." You heart sinks, but the doctor continues, "I suspect about a month or so is what you have left."
You could feel tears in your eyes, but surprisingly you didn't feel all that sad. Ever since you were young, you've accepted the fact that you would die, it's something you've learned from your times on the streets. The doctor continues talking, but you don't hear a word, to busy wondering how you're going to tell Muzan.
---
"Father, I'm home." No response, but you know he heard you.
On your way home, you accepted that you weren't going to tell Muzan. You knew if you would, he would try to turn you, and you couldn't accept that fate. To you, even death was a better fate than becoming a demon.
You slowly make you way up to your father's study, knocking on the door before entering. Like most days, your father is hunched over his desk, books and papers strewn about.
He doesn't acknowledge you when you enter, even when you move to stand beside him. You take a look at the scientific papers, not understanding a single thing about any of them. The only recognizable thing was the blue spider lily that for some reason was crucial to father.
"How was your appointment?" He doesn't look at you, flipping through pages of a book.
You sigh, shaking your head, "It was fine. Apparently, I was overreacting." You let out an awkward laugh. Muzan nods, before moving his attention back to his book.
It's like he was consumed by this flower, it was the only thing he cared about. You missed you father, even though it's been years since he's felt like one. In a way, you feel like death would be more welcoming than the life you have now, one that is consumed by fear for the man your supposed to feel safe around.
You left without telling you father, silently hoping you wouldn't see him in the morning.
---
Your hopes were not answered.
It's been week, but death does not come, all that greeted you was endless pain.
Your father found out when you collapsed one morning, and while he was mad you lied to him, he was livid when you refused to be turned into a demon. He's never yelled at you before, it surprised you when he screamed and threatened you, but you didn't change your mind.
In the end, your father was forced to watch you slowly succumb to your illness. You attempted to brighten his mood by framing the situation as repaying you. You took care of him, now he is doing the same. The only difference being you won't make it out in the end.
"Father, do you remember when I was little," You murmur to him; you voice raw and quiet. Your room was dark, blocking out any light so you could barely see your father looking at you. "You used to grow flowers with me." Your giggle sounds almost painful, but the smile on your face was one Muzan had nearly forgotten. "I'd get so sad when mine would die."
He doesn't speak, he can't, "Then you'd tell me not to cry, because death is normal for all living beings." Your voice is getting quieter as you speak, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "You were trying to comfort me about your death, I didn't know that at the time."
Muzan wants you to stop talking, he hates the pain in your voice. "I wish we could go back to the way things were before." You said, before finally going quiet. Muzan hears your breathing stop before letting out a sob.
---
It's been over a thousand years since your death and ever since then, Muzan has been filled with anger.
Anger for this imperfect world that took you away from. Anger at you for refusing the life he could've given you. Anger at himself for making your last few moments miserable.
He doesn't know who to blame for his misfortune, but he knows that if he lets anger consume him, he'll find someone to blame.
Muzan chooses to remember you when you were younger and at your happiest. When he's alone, his mind often wanders to these moments, when you were just a child, so small he was afraid anything would hurt you. He never let you out of his sight, wanting to protect you from the world.
Though in the end, he still lost you.
Since the day you died, Muzan was filled with rage. And he will continue to be until the day he sees you again.
He just wishes things would go back to the way they were before.
---
A/n: I don't even know if this counts as Yandere but whatever.
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#platonic yandere#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer#yandere demon slayer x reader#yandere demon slayer#kny muzan#kny x reader#platonic muzan x reader#muzan x reader
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All about us
Dad!Gojo x reader // established!relationship, fluff, angst if you squint, parenting Megumi and Tsumiki. // 1.1k words
Gojo’s being irresponsible again and this time you’re not having any of it.
(Not proofread be kind😭)
The school bell rang, signaling the end of another day for Tsumiki and Megumi. As the siblings made their way out of the school gates, they scanned the surroundings for any sign of their adopted father, Gojo Satoru. However, there was no sight of him.
"Where is he again?" Tsumiki huffed, her tiny brows furrowed in irritation.
Megumi sighed, used to their guardian's forgetfulness. "I don't know. Let's just wait a bit longer."
Meanwhile, at the school gate, you stood with crossed arms, tapping your foot impatiently. Gojo was supposed to pick up the kids today, but once again, he seemed to have forgotten.
"This is getting ridiculous," you muttered to yourself.
After what felt like an eternity, Gojo finally arrived, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey there, kiddos!
Sorry, got caught up with some cursed spirits. You know how it is."
Tsumiki rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You always say that..."
Ignoring Gojo, you took Megumi and Tsumiki by the hand and walked away. Gojo trailed behind, trying to make amends.
"Come on, sweetheart! I brought some snacks!” Gojo presented a bag filled with an assortment of sweets.
You shot him a disapproving look. "You're unbelievable, Gojo. You forgot to pick them up, and now you're bribing them with junk food?"
Gojo scratched his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, a little sugar never hurt anyone, right?"
You sighed, choosing to ignore him as you continued walking. The kids exchanged confused glances but stayed silent.
Days went by, and Gojo's irresponsible antics continued. From missed appointments to chaotic dinner choices, you found it increasingly difficult to tolerate his behavior. The silent treatment became your weapon of choice, leaving Gojo to fend for himself.
One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Gojo approached you with a guilty expression. "Listen, I know I've been slacking off lately, but I promise I'll make it up to you. How about a movie night with the kids? My treat!"
You glanced at him, unimpressed. "A movie night won't change anything, Gojo."
He pouted, realizing the severity of the situation. "Come on, don't be like that. I'll make it up to you,I swear."
But your silence spoke volumes, and you continued chopping vegetables without acknowledging his presence. Tsumiki and Megumi, witnessing the tension between you two, exchanged concerned glances.
Days turned into weeks, and your silent treatment persisted. Gojo, realizing the severity of the situation, decided to step up his game in an attempt to win back your affections. The chaos he once brought to your life now seemed to be replaced by an earnest effort to make amends.
One day, as you were in your classroom, teaching at Jujutsu High, you found your desk cluttered with a bunch of beautifully wrapped gifts. Puzzled, you looked around the room, and there stood Gojo, a hopeful grin on his face.
"Hey there! Just a little something to brighten up your day," he chimed, gesturing toward the gifts.
Ignoring him, you continued with your lecture, pretending as if the extravagant gifts didn't exist.
The students exchanged curious glances, aware of the tension in the air.
Gojo, unbothered, decided to take a more direct approach. He leaned against your desk, trying to catch your eye. "I got you all these things to say sorry. Can we talk, please?"
You maintained your focus on the lesson, pointedly avoiding any acknowledgment of his presence. Gojo sighed but didn't give up.
In the following days, the gifts kept coming - flowers, chocolates, even a cute puppy with a ribbon around its neck. Gojo seemed determined to break through your icy exterior. Each time he appeared with a new surprise, you merely accepted them with a stoic expression, refusing to let your guard down.
One afternoon, he brought in a lunchbox filled with a gourmet meal. "I made it myself, with a little help from Nanami," he announced, placing it on your desk.
You glanced at the lunchbox but said nothing. Gojo sighed, frustration evident on his face. The students, now thoroughly entertained by the ongoing drama, exchanged whispers and giggles.
The next attempt at reconciliation involved a grand gesture. Gojo rented out a rooftop restaurant, adorned with fairy lights and overlooking the city. As you finished another day of teaching, he awaited you there with a hopeful smile.
"Come on, let me make it up to you. Dinner is on me," he pleaded.
You walked past him without a word, heading straight for the exit. Gojo followed, desperation in his eyes. "Please, just talk to me."
The grand gestures, the thoughtful gifts, and the persistent efforts seemed to have no effect on your resolve.
The more Gojo tried to win you over, the more determined you became to uphold your silent protest.
One evening, after another failed attempt to grab your attention, Gojo found himself sitting alone in his apartment. The gifts he had showered you with were scattered around, remnants of his futile attempts to break through your walls.
He sighed, realizing that perhaps the path to reconciliation wasn't through grand gestures but through genuine change. The next day, he decided to focus on being a responsible partner and a reliable father to Tsumiki and Megumi, hoping that actions would speak louder than gifts.
Later that week, Gojo decided to take matters into his own hands. Armed with a bouquet of flowers and a charming smile, he showed up at your doorstep.
"Hey there, beautiful. I come in peace," Gojo said, holding out the flowers.
You raised an eyebrow, still not ready to break your silence.
Gojo sighed, his playful facade dropping for a moment. "Look, I know I've been acting like an idiot.
I promise to do better. For them," he said, nodding towards Tsumiki and Megumi, who were watching the scene unfold.
You softened at the mention of the kids. "Gojo, it's not just about them. It's about us too. You can't keep acting like a child."
He nodded, sincerity in his eyes. "I get it. I'll be more responsible, starting now. Just give me a chance to make things right."
You sighed, finally breaking into a small smile. "You better keep your promise, ‘Toru."
He grinned, relief evident on his face. "You won't regret it, I promise."
As Gojo stepped inside, Tsumiki and Megumi exchanged relieved smiles. Maybe, just maybe, their unconventional family could find a balance between chaos and love.
#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x you#jjk fluff#jjk gojo#jjk headcanons#gojo satoru x reader#megumi x reader#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi fluff#gojou satoru x reader#gojo saturo#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#jjk smut#jjk art#jjk fanart#jjk#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#jujutsu kaisen fanart#gojo smut#gojo smau#gojo x y/n#gojo x geto#gojo x oc
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jealousy jealousy
xavier thorpe x reader x tyler galpin
>summary: xavier has been blowing you off for the new girl at your school and you’re fed up and jealous of it. somehow things lead to you making out with tyler, the barista at weathervane. oh boy, you really need to sort out your feelings.
>warnings: angst, jealousy, mean!xavier, crying, kissing, slight mentions of food
>word count: 1.4k+
>note: hiii, this is my first fic on this app, i hope you’ll like it. this will have a part 2 as well!
part(2)
__________________________________________________________
ever since wednesday addams had arrived at nevermore, something eventful always happened. appearances of a bloodthirsty monster, creepy rumours about wednesday, the start of a rivalry between bianca and her. and worst of all, your best friend of six years, xavier thorpe, was obsessed with wednesday.
xavier was too busy following wednesday around like a puppy than to even acknowledge you anymore. recently he had been cancelling your plans at the last moment with sorry excuses, ditching you in lunch, ignoring you for days at a time; to sum it up he was blowing you off like you were nothing but a nuisance to him.
and it hurt, it hurt so much especially since you had recently developed feelings for him and were planning to ask him out to this year’s RaveN. but now it looked like you would never have chance with him. first bianca, now wednesday. ugh, why was your love life so unfortunate.
you were currently on your way to miss thornhill’s botanical science class and were hoping to be able to finally have a talk with xavier as you were his seatmate. thankfully that hadn’t changed as this was the only class you shared with him. but when you reached there, you were disappointed to see none other than wednesday addams sitting in your place, glaring at xavier as if she was forced to sit with him. a pang of hurt went through your chest as you saw the adoring look xavier gave her. so it had finally happened huh? this was the only thing left to do to completely push you out of his life.he had replaced you after all these years of your friendship. he threw it away like it was nothing. he made it clear he didn’t want you around, so you would do the same now.
you stormed past their table and sat at the back. you noticed xavier look back at you but you just ignored him. soon class started and throughout the class bianca and wednesday bickered, which was amusing. wednesday seemed interesting and you know she was not at fault for what xavier was doing to you, so you had no bad blood with her. although, you couldn’t wait to go to weathervane and get yourself a nice cup of coffee.
after class ended, you immediately gathered all your belongings and walked out when a hand latched around your wrist and pulled you to the side. you looked up to be met with a familiar pair of eyes. “xavier?”
he gave you a timid smile, “yeah.”
you freed your arm from his grip and gave him a stony look, “what do you want?”
he looked confused at your reaction, “well you’re in a bad mood today, what happened?” you scoffed, “what happened is that i’ve felt this way the entire week. you’ve been constantly ditching and ignoring me all because of your weird obsession with wednesday!”
his face screwed up into an angry expression and his stance turned defensive. “oh so you’re jealous now huh.”
you couldn't believe him, “i’m more hurt than jealous that you would start ignoring your bestfriend for someone you’ve known for a month. i don't mind her, but it would be nice if you spent some time with me as well or invited me to one of your hangouts.” you threw your hands in the air, “you’re acting as if i don’t even exist anymore.”
xavier just scoffed meanly at your words, “you’re not my only friend y/n. don’t be so clingy and get a life.”
tears stung your eyes but you stopped yourself from crying in front of him,you weren’t going to show him that his words affected you. “oh yeah? so all this time you’ve only seen me as a clingy, pitiful person.” you glared at him, “and for your comment, i have a life. now you just won’t be a part of it anymore.” he looked distraught at your words.
“and to think i ever even liked you”, you muttered and walked away.
__________________________________________________________
the walk to weathervane was as gloomy as that day’s weather. hopefully it didn’t rain till you got back to your dorm.
the bells of the cafe jingled as you entered and the smell of coffee invaded your senses sighing, you trudged towards the counter and rang the bell kept on it. immediately a head full of brown curls peeked out of the storeroom. “oh hey y/n!”
it was tyler, the sweet and cute barista who worked as a part timer at the cafe. yet, somehow he was always present whenever you came. you gave him a weak smile, “hey tyler, can i get an americano with three shots of espresso.”
his eyes widened, “whoa are you okay? that’s a heavy order, you usually get lattes.” you grimaced, “yeah i’m not exactly feeling too happy today. might as well get something strong.”
he gave you a sweet smile, “then i know exactly what will cheer you up. lemme surprise you with something nice, yeah?” you smiled softly at his concern for you and nodded.
sliding into your favourite booth, you put your head on the table and tried not to recall today’s events, but no matter what you did, they came crashing back at you. how could xavier say all those things to you? all the times that you had been there for him, in his highs and lows, meant nothing to him. he just found you clingy and anno-
“y/n why are you crying?”, tyler’s worried voice broke you out of your thoughts. you looked up and he gasped at the sight of you. tear streaks went down your face and your eyes were red and swollen. you looked miserable. he sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug. you leaned on his chest and closed your eyes, breathing in his sweet scent.
“what happened?”, his voice came out muffled in your hair. you sighed deeply, “i had a big fight with xavier and he said some really mean words.” tyler rubbed your back soothingly at that. “it’s alright, that happens in every friendship.” you moved away from his hug, still in his arms and looked at him, “but he’s been blowing me off and doesn’t even talk to me anymore.” you ranted, “and i even had feeli-” you stopped when you noticed how close you were to his face. your eyes wandered shamelessly over his face, admiring the moles on the right side of his face, his brown eyes that looked like freshly brewed coffee. and his pink lips. you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. no stop! what the hell were you thinking about?
right at that moment the bells at the entrance door jingled, signalling that someone had entered, you both looked to see who it was. surprisingly, it was xavier and he seemed to be looking for something, or rather someone. his eyes brightened when they locked with yours. and as his hand raised to give you a wave, you gripped tyler’s collar and crashed your lips on his. his eyes widened at your gesture initially, but then slowly closed and he tightened his grip around your waist to pull you closer. his lips moved against yours with the same urgency you put in.
the kiss was messy and fast and your head was clouded with fury and all you wanted to do was show xavier that you didn’t need him, to make him jealous. you opened your eyes to make eye contact with him and relished at how his face was scrunched up in anger. he turned around and walked out, slamming the door. you pulled away from tyler, both of your lips swollen and wet. you grinned cheekily as a rosy blush dusted tyler’s cheeks.
“so, what does this mean for us?”
your smile dropped at his words. shit, you hadn’t thought about it. your motive was making xavier jealous, but you hadn’t considered tyler’s feelings. sure, he was really attractive and sweet. recently he had been there for you more than xavier had. and that kiss did make your stomach swarm with butterflies, maybe that was just the adrenaline. but what about xavier, it’s not like you can suddenly push away your feelings for him.
you needed time to think things through and you were sure tyler wouldn’t mind.
you looked at him to see him staring at you expectantly. “i need some time to think things through, i’m not really in a good state of mind right now.” you smiled at him guiltily.
he nodded, “of course, take your time.” you smiled at him.
“meet me at the crackstone crypt tomorrow evening.”
#wednesday#wednesday imagine#tyler galpin#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#xavier thorpe imagine#tyler galpin x reader#tyler galpin imagines#wednesday x reader#wednesday 2022#y/n#hunter doohan#percy hynes white#wednesday addams#xavier thorpe imagines#tyler galpin imagine
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Behind the Scenes (03/05)
Behind the Negotiation
pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader
summary: knowing that you can't run away from your past forever, you receive unexpected visitors in your home that make you fear for your son's future.
word counter: 8.9k
previous part • next part • series masterlist
warnings: angst, arguments, language,mention of abortion.
guys, I'm sorry for the delay, with this chapter a lot of unexpected things came across my way, but I've finally finished it and I'm satisfied with the result, although I'm not sure if you will like it, it might bore you but I don't know, please let me know :)
without more to say, enjoy it and thanks for all the support, really! let me know your comments too, I'll be waiting for them!
You still remember it all too well.
You remember how you accepted Aemond's terms, the terms of his agent Criston and also of his entire team.
You agreed to keep the existence of your child a secret, to hide in the shadows with him and to keep a low profile until it was "safe" for Aemond's career to publicly and legally acknowledge the baby.
But you only accepted to take that worry off everyone's mind and especially his, so you could run away. Although the reality is that you were scared.
At first, Aemond's power, influence and connections kept you paralyzed, thinking about the consequences of breaking all ties with him.
And running away from him, disappearing from his life along with your son was a decision you had to make carefully and then had to live with in fear and dread of being found someday.
And the fear of possible legal reprisals for your escape and uncertainty about the consequences were present at every turn. But you did everything to live in freedom, not to destroy Aemond's career and to protect your son from all public exposure.
You always knew that Aemond with his celebrity status possesses power, not only in the entertainment industry, but also in the media and social sphere, that was obvious, just like any other celebrity.
So finding you could be as easy as snapping his fingers.
So to prevent Aemond from tracking your movements so he could find you, you began by discarding any means of transportation that could be easily monitored or tracked.
You avoided airports and bus terminals, opting instead for small train stations and local buses, always paying with cash. You left King's Landing and the entire state, going all the way to the Iron Islands.
In Pike, with the money you had left over, you were able to rent a room to yourself in a cheap hotel, then quickly began to look around for a job in the surrounding area in search of an opportunity that could provide you with support and stability.
You knew you couldn't get a job like the one you had before, on a recording set with a big salary. So downtown, you found a job at a beauty salon.
Not only does she own a beauty salon, she also owns a few small apartments in the city and offered you one of them at a lower price, considering you were just starting out with a new job.
The owner of the place, Becca Waters, a kind and understanding woman, saw potential and also the need in you.
Knowing your condition and that you practically came to live in a place where you knew nothing and no one, she also offered you a place to live and be safe.
Mrs. Waters became a fundamental support for you, providing guidance, encouragement, flexibility and stability in your financial need and also in your pregnancy.
With her you felt completely safe and supported at a time when you needed it most. After all you had gone through to get here, leaving your life behind and pregnant, she was your reward.
But still nothing was easy after that.
Your pregnancy process was a roller coaster of emotions, challenges and moments. Facing motherhood as a single mom was an overwhelming reality.
On the one hand, even though the baby was unplanned, you were excited to know that you would soon be holding him in your arms, but on the other hand, you also felt fear and anxiety at the responsibility of raising a child alone with no knowledge of anything really.
The first few months of pregnancy were especially difficult.
You experienced pain, symptoms and discomforts that you had no idea about and had to endure, as well as a slight state of depression and anxiety about dealing with all of this on your own.
But through it all, Becca was your pillar of support at all times, who became your confidant, giving you comfort and encouragement in difficult times. And she was the one who helped you throughout your pregnancy and also the one who was by your side when you gave birth to your child.
And even though you didn't want to, being in a very vulnerable state, you couldn't help but feel lonely and miss Aemond, just as you missed everything you once used to be.
But remembering everything that happened the last time you saw him, even though the feeling disappeared, you also couldn't help but start crying.
And to protect yourself emotionally, you decided to stay away from news about Aemond.
You avoided social media and any content that could remind you of your past with him. Your determination was great to be able to raise your child alone, without relying on Aemond's presence or acknowledgement.
And the day your son finally came into the world, it was a moment of joy and wonder that could not be compared to any other moment in life, filling your heart with indescribable happiness.
However, the birth also brought with it a torrent of new worries and challenges.
Childbirth was exhausting and intense. Nothing you've ever experienced before. And in the days that followed, the constant care of the newborn, the lack of sleep and the adjustment to your new life were heavy challenges that pushed you to the limit many times.
But in spite of that, every smile, every little gesture of your son filled your world with immense love, as well as Mrs. James' help in guiding you in practical aspects of motherhood increased your unwavering determination to go forward for him, being your driving force.
Although also the arrival of your son into the world increased your fear in you.
The fear that Aemond and his team might find you and take your son away from you was a constant worry. But despite this, there were moments of uncertainty when you thought too much about it.
You wondered why Aemond would bother looking for you and your child. Clearly the baby was a risk to his career and he didn't even want to support you from the start, only accepting it later because that was your decision.
You knew he wouldn't but you were still afraid.
Would Aemond really seek you out after he initially supported the idea of abortion?
Would he really seek you out after he supported your decision even if he didn't want to but in the shadows, avoiding any public acknowledgement and hiding you and your son?
But just when you had gotten used to it, had found stability with a job and a permanent refuge in the beauty salon with Mrs. Waters, a few months after the birth of your son, Mrs. Waters was forced to close the salon due to unforeseen financial problems.
That place that had been your refuge and where you found support and friendship, suddenly disappeared, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness, uncertainty and nostalgia.
Mrs. Waters would have to leave town and although you didn't want to, you also decided to do the same, convinced that you would be safer with your son in a place you knew well, avoiding at all times the places you used to go with Aemond and where you knew you could meet him.
So after looking for a job, with your resume and previous excellent references, in the city where the entire film industry resides, you got a job as a makeup artist in a different recording studio than the one you had worked in before.
There was no way you could meet Aemond, or so you thought.
Previously the TV network was BBC, now it was HBO for whom you would be working on a new TV show, so you really had nothing to worry about, especially since the pay was very good and you could survive just fine on that for you and your child.
But right on your first day of work, life decided to surprise you.
And now you are here, in your new apartment where you were planning to live temporarily until you find a better one, but now with you running away on your first day it means definite dismissal for sure, so you have no idea how you are going to pay for a better one or how you are going to pay for this one next month so you won't get kicked to the street.
But you can't even think straight as you are still shaking, your emotions are running high, you have no idea what really happened, it was all very fast between talking and remembering the past.
And the only thing that gives you some peace in the midst of your own thoughts and everything you're feeling, are the sounds of Aenar's toys and babbling in the living room, playing on the floor and touching everything he can.
His silver hair shines from the sunlight coming through the windows and he giggles as his colorful toys bump into each other, showing a world of happiness and innocent curiosity, completely filling your heart but you still feel that sharp ache in your chest.
You move towards him with a soft sigh and take a seat next to him, keeping a small genuine smile on your lips but with some melancholy, when he starts showing you all his toys and asks you between babbling and giggles to play with him.
You move the toys back and forth, ask him questions in honeyed tones and he laughs, making you laugh too, but you continue with the tumult of your overwhelming thoughts.
You think about what you will do now, that you should probably look for a job at a new beauty salon, which is what you should have done as soon as you got back, find a subtle job instead of going back to what you were doing before so suddenly.
However the paycheck was what made you take it and you need it too much, so you'll have to look for other alternatives.
You find yourself thinking about it when you suddenly hear the sound of the door completely interrupting your thoughts and also your game with Aenar.
You look towards the entrance, confused, with a strange feeling growing in your chest, immediately giving you a bad feeling. For who would come knocking at your door?
No one knows you're back… except Aemond.
Oh Gods.
The thought makes you paralyzed, feeling your whole body tense up, your heart starts beating fast and fear invades you completely.
Could it be him?
You wonder, struggling to stay calm, even though there's no way he could have figured out so quickly where you're living.
Or has he?
The thought leaves you completely paralyzed, with a mixture of anxiety and fear flowing inside you.
The knocking on the door becomes more insistent and you carefully get up and leave Aenar still amused in his game on the floor, then walk towards the door feeling a lump in your throat and a growing uneasiness.
You reach for the doorknob and as you turn it to open, your heart skips a beat when you find Aemond's agent standing in front of you, Criston Cole.
A trace of surprise and confusion flashes across your face, feeling your body tighten further and the fear linger.
How did he know where you were?
What is he doing here?
Criston returns you a serious but understanding look, beginning to feel the tension between the two of you, while you feel the fear invade you again because of the old memories and being him one of the main reasons why you decided to run away.
His mere presence triggers a series of emotions that take you by surprise. With no trace of Aemond or anyone else around you, yet your mind races.
Nervousness invades every fiber of your being, while your heart beats faster and stronger than usual. A sense of discomfort invades you and you also feel alert, afraid, unable to control it.
"Y/N."
He pronounces your name with a slight nod. His tone tries to be reassuring, but confusion and bewilderment wash over you.
You say nothing for a few seconds, feeling unable to speak and unable to formulate any words, barely trying at that moment to process the situation. Anxiety creeps through your chest, as he gives you and respects your space, aware of your unease.
"I understand that you're surprised by my visit and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I really don't. But we need to talk."
The confusion inside you increases and so does the fear, to watch him completely bewildered and on the verge of collapse.
"H-how—
You try to ask with your voice cracking in the midst of all your emotions, but he interrupts you in response, knowing what you're going to ask.
"My team," he lets you know, "They handled finding you."
He tells you seriously and with that touch of professionalism in his tone, but his response only surprises and puzzles you more, to which Criston notices.
You feel the questions pile up in your head, but you barely manage to articulate a word, besides all the emotions you're feeling, fear mainly.
"Aemond informed us of your return," he adds, "After he didn't find you again, he asked us to look for you," he tells you calmly, trying to make his eyes convey an attempt at empathy for you.
But you don't believe that one bit. Not after what happened the last time you saw him and his entire team.
You feel a surge of vulnerability wash over you, leaving you suddenly helpless before him. You don't have the slightest idea how you will be able to cope with that situation, how to get away from them again now that they have found you, especially him.
"What have you really come for?" you question, not hiding your distrust.
Criston keeps a serene attitude and look, seeking to soften the tension, but notices your demeanor and posture, of fear and alertness altogether.
"Just to talk," he tells you softly, "Believe me the last thing I want and Aemond too is to cause you trouble. We just want to talk and nothing more," he explains, but you are having none of it, "He was going to come himself, but he had to film some scenes. But he'll come as soon as he can."
This just adds more weight to the anxiety and nervousness you're already feeling, so it triggers an alert in you that makes you feel completely freaked out, definitely not wanting that.
"No," you try to retort with a firm tone, but your vulnerability shows in your trembling voice and nervous expression, "Please leave."
Concern flashes across Criston's face for an instant, unconsciously taking a step towards you.
"Y/N–
"Please," you plead, "Just go away and don't come back, none of you, not even him."
"Y/N, please, just let me—
"No," you interrupt him again, more desperate than before, "Please," you repeat.
The atmosphere is filled with a silence full of tension, where your words, full of desperation and longing to get away from the situation, float in the air, also asking for urgent distance and tranquility.
And Criston lets out a sigh.
"Just a few minutes," he says, struggling to find some control in the situation, "Just-let us talk to you, Aemond and me."
"If it's to talk about his career and his son, I'm not interested," you say firmly, but your trembling voice gives away your emotions, "We've talked about that before," you say with some bitterness and sadness in your tone, "You can go now. I don't plan on staying anyway."
Without having let go of the door frame, you try to close the door, ending all of this, but he instantly speaks again, stopping you.
"Please Y/N, Aemond is very worried and wishes to speak with you," he insists, "He hasn't been the same since you left, you should know that," he adds in a persuasive tone.
You let out a snort in disbelief and with some bitterness, as you look away from his gaze for a moment.
"I highly doubt that."
"Y/N—
The sound of Aenar's innocent laughter while playing with his toys catches Criston's attention, stopping his words, who unconsciously catches a glimpse inside your living room where Aenar is playing and also catches a glimpse of his small figure on the floor with his characteristic silver hair.
This immediately triggers your concern and increases your protective mode and you quickly close the door a little behind you, blocking his view, while your heart is pounding.
This is what you meant.
You don't want anything bad to happen to your son, in any way. And you will do anything to protect him, because they decided everything except to protect you and now you will not allow them to intervene in your son's life now that they know he is here.
"Y/N," he calls to you in a softer voice, watching you completely intently and desperately asking you with his gaze for a moment.
"Please don't," you plead with him, at the point of collapsing from worry and frustration.
Again you enter the apartment as you hold the door frame tightly to close it, but Criston stops you again.
"You must understand the gravity of what happened," he tells you seriously, "Your disappearance put Aemond's relationship with his son in danger. There are legal implications for you to consider, such as custody," he says and your heart flips, "I can explain all of this to you and resolve it in the best way possible," he looks at you in insistence, "But only if you let me in so we can talk."
And there they are again. Your greatest fears.
The word 'custody' repeats over and over in your mind, like a loop, causing you greater fear, worry and pressure than before, the gravity of the situation and the looming legal implications being clear.
The air weighs on you, heavy with uncertainty and intense tension, as well as you are overcome with the urge to cry because of your doubts and fear.
"Wh-what-" you try to speak in a whisper, your voice cracking and your heart in a fist, "Custody?" you repeat under your breath.
Criston watches you with some pity and understanding, then lowers his gaze, lets out a sigh and watches you with that sympathy and also a little expectant.
"May I come in?"
Try one more time and maybe it's because of his words that your mind is in a state of alarm that makes you recognize that you can't run away again or else things will get worse. And you don't want that. You are afraid for yourself and Aenar.
Feeling more of your anxiety, you finally allow him to enter and Criston at this thanks you with his gaze and moves carefully, noticing your visible discomfort and also your fear, not wanting to alter you any further with absolutely nothing.
And once the door closes, you immediately stand in front of Aenar with a weak and vulnerable posture trying to look strong, this catching his attention and feeling something warm in his chest at the presence of the little one.
But he also knows exactly why you react this way and he doesn't blame you for it, much less does it bother him because he understands you.
"I'm very honest when I tell you that we really don't want to create more trouble, Y/N," he tells you in a soft tone, "Aemond…. he really is very worried. And since he is my client, we don't want any legal implications or further conflict."
You try to keep your composure, but your thoughts are a storm of confused emotions. The very idea of dealing with legal issues, especially regarding your son, is overwhelming to you.
"Why now?" you ask in a trembling voice, your gaze searching for answers, "All this… why?"
Criston exhales slowly, trying to find the right words.
"The situation has changed, basically since you left. Aemond was wrong at the time and I admit I was too, so now he's willing to acknowledge your son, in every way possible."
You can't help but look incredulous and bitter once again.
"It's already too late for that, don't you think?" you ask him in a bitter tone.
Criston looks down for a moment, his expression one of compassion and understanding towards your perspective.
"Yes, we know," he nods to you, "And that's why we're here, trying to keep all this from becoming a bigger problem. But please Y/N, understand that Aemond doesn't want to hurt you or cause you any more trouble than he's already caused."
"And until now you say that?" you inquire sad, worried, fearful and indignant, "That's what I needed to hear before when I was scared, because I was scared too Criston, not just Aemond," you let him know, with tears in the corners of your eyes, "But you treated me like a problem you needed to get rid of, you and him."
Criston listens to your words with a gesture in his eyes that reflects the heaviness of the situation, just as you see shame and regret wash over him, suddenly seeing him as the vulnerable one and you as the strong one compared to years ago, the roles reversing for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to make you feel that way," he says in a regret-laden tone.
"Sorry doesn't change anything," you say, fighting back tears.
You watch him with your hard stare and sad eyes, feeling several tears fall down your cheeks, making you remember once again.
And once again without letting it drown you, you force yourself to push those memories away, all your moments of uncertainty, fear and pain, to brush your tears away from your cheeks with a strong look of determination.
"I will accept any legal consequences if there are any," you say suddenly, trying to keep your composure, "If there are legal actions, I'm willing to face them. But for now, I just want to be left alone, please."
"Y/N," Criston calls you cautiously, "I just want you to understand that we want to do the right thing now. And what we want to do is find a solution that works for you and for Aemond regarding him," he points to Aenar with his gaze behind you, "Something that guarantees your privacy while not damaging his public image."
Then all the effect of his words completely disappear on you.
You feel a surge of frustration, annoyance and despair at the realization that still the main concern remains Aemond's career.
"Do you still think about his career?" you ask with disappointment and resentment in your tone.
"Y/N—
"The most important thing here is my son," you stand strong, "But he seems to be only one aspect of Aemond's image, doesn't he?"
"Even after all this time that has passed, Aemond's career is more successful and even promising than before, that is something that neither you, him nor I should forget, let alone ignore," he tries to explain to you, "Aemond wants to fix things but his career must also be contemplated, please understand this Y/N."
"Then why do you say you want to do things the right way now if that is not true?" you inquire.
"Yes it is true," he clarifies, "But within all of this, his career must still be contemplated."
You shake your head in disbelief, unable to believe it.
"You say a lot of things Criston, but it's clear what matters most to you," you say with no emotion in your voice, "And sure, why shouldn't his career matter most to you? After all… you don't know what it's like to get pregnant, without support and go through the whole process by yourself, and then raise a child on your own, without the support of his father."
"I don't mean to—
"Please go away," you plead once more and this again alerts him.
"Y/N—
He tries to speak but the sound of the door echoes throughout the living room, drawing your full attention and Criston's as well.
The atmosphere again becomes heavier than before, as well as all your confidence disappears, already knowing who it is and you are confirmed by the fact that the person behind the door knocks more insistently, sounding desperate.
With your fearful gaze and your whole body tense, you quickly move towards Aenar, who is still playing completely oblivious to everything that is happening on the floor and you take him in your arms with haste but also care.
You hold him tightly against your body, as a way to protect him from everything outside and also from all people especially while trying to contain all your emotions.
And Criston, who also knows who it is, rushes to the door to open it.
And there on the doorway, the figure of Aemond comes into view, with all the desperation and longing in his gaze, the worry and anguish too, as you muster the courage to be able to look him in the eye again, holding Aenar a little more firmly against your chest.
But your son's body is visible to the eye and that's what makes Aemond completely paralyzed at the sight of you with his son in your arms.
Surprise is completely reflected in his whole look, immediately followed by a bunch of emotions that start to pile up in his whole being and want to come out, as he feels his whole body tense up and a feeling in his stomach invades him.
This leaves him and you in a state of momentary restlessness, where time seems to stand still and the silence is too loud. You, with your gaze fixed on him, try to keep your composure with a mixture of fear, insecurity and some determination to protect your son at all costs.
It didn't take long for Aemond's surprise to turn into a moment of awe and a surge of overwhelming emotions. The mere sight of you with his child in your arms triggers disbelief, pent-up longing and a feeling of suppressed joy.
"Y/N," Aemond calls your name in a whisper, his tone laden with surprise and visible regret, where his gaze can't tear away from you and Aenar.
You say nothing, just watch him back without saying anything, with all your emotions reflecting in your eyes.
The moment is just the three of you, so Criston turns away completely, not interfering and saying absolutely nothing, while you continue in your protective mode and Aemond is still processing this whole moment.
With excitement clashing against the surprise in his eyes, he tries to process the reality of having his son before him for the first time.
He searches for the right words to speak, but his stuck mind won't let him, nor will the lump in his throat and stomach as he continues to watch the scene in front of him; you with his son in your arms.
He tries to say something, but his lips barely half open and the words won't come out, feeling his heart beating too fast and hard.
And you with your gaze full of expectation, fear and caution, Aemond finally looks at you again, aware of all the emotional charge you feel, just like him, as well as your fear and distrust after everything that happened.
"C-can… can I come closer?"
He finally asks cautiously, his voice with a tone of longing and nervousness barely contained.
You hesitate at that moment.
Feeling the weight of the situation and the emotions that are triggered at that moment, despite everything, you feel very vulnerable and you also feel his vulnerability, also that longing to touch Aenar and hold him.
And despite the way he acted with you almost two years ago and also the way Criston and all his team treated you, you don't feel able to be as cruel as they were with you back then.
You don't want to be like them and also aware that this day would come sooner or later, you watch Aenar for a moment, leave a soft kiss on his forehead and again watch Aemond, then nod in his direction with a barely perceptible gesture.
You allow Aemond your closeness and he with extreme care begins to approach you slowly, as if fearing that a sudden movement could fade the magical and longing moment.
Aemond's heartbeat echoes in your ears as he finally stands in front of your son.
Aenar, completely oblivious to everything, senses the nearness of someone else and raises his curious gaze to Aemond, watching him with those bright blue eyes.
And upon seeing that man with the same hair color as his own, his eyes light up with a gleam of curiosity, lightly waving his arms and also his body.
With his teary eye, he watches you for a moment, to again focus on Aenar and with a mixture of excitement and awe, he extends one of his trembling hands towards his small, delicate face.
And when the touch of his fingers against his soft skin of his cheek makes itself felt, Aemond feels an unfamiliar sensation invade him completely.
A sad but honest smile full of melancholy appears on his lips as he gently and carefully traces his face, running his hand up to his silver hair, gazing intently into those blue eyes just like his own as Aenar watches him with that playful innocence but also just as curious as his own.
You, unsure of exactly what to feel or think, watch as he carefully reaches out both arms and begins to hold his body, feeling the warmth and weight of his small body now resting in his arms.
That unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling from before comes over him even more strongly as he holds his son for the first time, when Aenar lifts one of his hands and touches his left cheek, where his scar is.
The emotion makes his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back the tears of restrained happiness that will come at any moment.
It was a moment he had imagined countless times, but had never believed possible until this instant.
Aenar, captivated by the newness and warmth in the arms of Aemond, his father, laughs innocently, his eyes dazzling a happiness as he notices the familiarity in that new face above him. And at his gesture, Aemond lets out a choked laugh, completely captivated by him.
And unable to contain himself any longer, the first sob escapes his throat and the tears fall, instantly pulling his son's face to his chest, embracing him with gentleness and that security that makes him feel so vulnerable when Aenar settles perfectly in his arms.
Guilt, sadness, joy, emotion, everything invades him in that moment.
And he lets out more tears for the comfort that Aenar gives him in his arms, that feeling of protection and even… love, that makes him feel even more vulnerable.
And you are still there, close to them but giving Aemond his space, watching everything attentively with your heart in a fist and feeling sensations you had not felt before at the scene, with tears also wanting to slide down your cheeks.
After a few more seconds, Aemond slurps his nose and looks over Aenar's small shoulder at you with all the vulnerability in his gaze.
"I-I know I don't deserve this," he says with his voice cracking, trying to control himself but he can't.
And he is about to say something else but you watching his expression, a mixture of regret and deep sadness, you step forward to speak.
"In spite of everything, he deserves to know his father," you murmur with your trembling voice and teary eyes, "Aenar deserves this," you assure him, accepting it as you watch the scene of the two of them.
Aemond nods, unable to articulate words, still feeling the lump in his throat, his face reflecting pain, regret and a sadness you have never seen in him before, as his tears continue to fall as he embraces his son.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, unable to contain the emotion, turning to him and to you. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know how to face it…how to be there."
Silence again settles throughout the apartment, only being filled by Aemond's soft crying, as you silently weep and continue to watch the two of them.
A few minutes have passed since Aemond and your son met for the first time.
Aenar laughs with delight as Aemond plays with him with one of his toys. They are both immersed in a little world of fun where it's just the two of them, surrounded by Legos blocks, small plastic cars and puppets.
You watch everything, or almost everything, without interfering and giving them both their space, watching your son enjoy a special moment that on another occasion, could have been a daily routine with a different life.
Criston doesn't say or do anything either, he at all times stands in the corner watching the whole interaction, letting Aemond have his moment with his son, genuinely feeling happy for him.
And even though the scene makes you feel warm in your heart, being a scene you longed for before, you still still feel insecure, afraid and overwhelmed by this whole situation.
This doesn't really change anything. You have only given Aemond the opportunity to meet his son because your son deserves it, nothing more.
Inside you are still just as scared and in expectation that at any moment this whole 'beautiful' moment will fade away. And that's exactly what happens when you hear Criston's voice all over the living room.
"I wouldn't want to ruin the moment, truly," he says seriously and honestly, "But it's important that we talk about all this so we can resolve it properly."
This immediately catches your attention and also Aemond's, with whom you exchange a quick glance, again feeling your whole body tremble and out of the same nervousness you are overcome with the impulse to take your son in your arms to feel safe.
"It is important that we talk about the child, about what you are going to do now," he turns to Aemond, "Custody is important and all that goes with it."
"I don't understand why you keep talking about custody," you look at him nervously and annoyed, "I alone have cared for and raised Aenar all this time."
"I know this is complicated and sudden, Y/N," Criston tells you, "But we need to approach this whole thing responsibly."
"Responsibility?" you repeat incredulously, "What responsibility are you exactly talking about?"
"Y/N," Aemond immediately interjects, "Listen to me, please," he gets up from the floor leaving Aenar playing alone and walks towards you, "It's not my intention to take our son away from you, truly. But we must make sure we have legal rights to be in his life," he explains to you, "You were the one who ran away, who disappeared without a word. I didn't know what happened to you."
You look at him uncomprehendingly, with your hurt and desperate gaze.
"You talk about custody and rights when in the beginning that was the last thing on your mind, Aemond," you observe him incredulously, "And you keep reproaching me for running away when you know perfectly well that I did it so I could live and so I wouldn't ruin your career, which was all you were thinking about."
Regret again invades Aemond's face, as the atmosphere becomes denser, full of mixed emotions where fear and anger resurfaces with everything else.
Any trace of calm and peace, has ceased to exist, only being perceived by Aenar, who continues oblivious and innocent to all this in his games.
"I-I…" Aemond tries to speak, "I'm sorry for everything, Y/N. But back then...
His sentence hangs in suspense, not knowing what else to say, trying to find the right words without wanting to generate more tension, but that's what he involuntarily does.
"Back then," you repeat, your emotions running high, "Back then you were too busy taking care of your public image, supporting the idea of an abortion without consulting me, then supporting the idea of hiding me and my child as if we were a problem, which in fact we were and as if it was my only option, leaving me with no alternatives," you express with frustration and pain marked in every word.
Regret remains in Aemond's facial expressions, looking visibly affected by your words, grief-stricken and with a regret throughout his body that affirms to him that you are absolutely right, each word being like a dagger straight to his heart.
"Y-you don't know how much I regret and blame myself for all of that, Y/N," he tells you with vulnerability in his tone, "And I know I don't deserve it, any of this, not even that you allowed me to meet him and that I'm now in the same place as him," he says with regret, "But I want to find a solution that works for both of us," he whispers sadly.
The room is again consumed by silence, except for the sound of Aenar's toy movements, which is what catches Aemond's attention for a moment to smile a little more melancholy.
The situation becomes increasingly complex as your emotions continue to run high between anger and sadness, with the memory of past times still latent, but also with the uncertainty of the future.
And Criston, trying to keep calm, intervenes again.
"I understand that you both have different perspectives on what happened. But now we need to think about the future, of your son," he says seriously, "It's not just about custody, it's about finding a way to strike a fair balance, but… thinking about your career too, Aemond."
You let out a disbelieving, ironic snort again, shaking your head.
"His career,'" you repeat with a bitter tone, your voice a mixture of sarcasm and disappointment.
Aemond, watching you sadly and remorsefully, speaks in a calm but regret-laden voice.
"I don't want you to look at this that way, Y/N—
"That's just the way I see it," you interrupt him, serious and sad, "This is exactly why I left. This is why when I saw you again, I decided to run away again," you say hurt, "Now that you've met him, you want to be in his life, but you still prefer to hide us. This kind of life is the one you wanted to give us at the beginning and now you still do too."
Your revelations Aemond had already heard, but at that moment, again that sharp pain in his chest becomes present, as well as guilt, remorse and regret at seeing your sad face with such honest words.
"All I want is to come to an agreement, Y/N, please—
"You're not going to hide us," you interrupt him firmly.
"Aemond," he calls him seriously.
"No, that's not my intention—
He insists desperately but Criston intervenes.
"Don't," Aemond interrupts him instantly, turning serious and with an annoyed expression towards him, "We can't hide the truth anymore, Criston. Things must change."
"Look, I understand that this is difficult for you," he begins in a serious and cautious tone, "But still, we must consider the consequences. There's a lot at stake here, your career," he reminds him, "You have numerous job offers. Your show on HBO is the most famous show on the platform and the most watched show on television so far. How do you think people are going to react when they find out about your son?"
The room sinks into another silence, as you watch him with your hard, sad face, frustration, annoyance and irritation inside you, watching as Criston continues to treat your son like he's a problem.
And it hurts you.
Because Aemond doesn't even say anything.
"We can find a way to handle all this without putting at risk everything you have achieved, Aemond. And if you get a share of the custody, your son will be under your protection without harming your image," he proposes with an insistent look, seeking his approval.
You look away again, completely incredulous and with helplessness all over you.
It's not Aemond, it's Criston.
It is he who continues to manipulate Aemond to prioritize his career over his son, so that everything revolves around public image and fame, diverting attention from the well-being of your son.
And what can you really do there?
He is his agent, the person who has positioned him where he is now, making him famous, relevant, telling him what roles to take in movies or TV shows that are going to ensure one more success to his career.
"If you listen to him…" you begin to say in his direction with a trembling but firm tone, "If you do what he tells you, I swear I won't care what I have to do, even go into debt to get a good lawyer," you warn, "I will fight for the custody of Aenar and when I get it, I assure you that you will never see him again, ever."
Your words slip from your lips with a determination that completely surprises Aemond, surprise and concern visible on his face, watching you hurt for a moment, his mind a complete mess.
But it is not he who speaks, but Criston who takes the floor once more.
"If that's what you want, Y/N… that's fine," he tells you seriously, his gaze cold and calculating. "But let me warn you, we're trying to come to an agreement—
"The two of you or you specifically?" you snap at him.
"That doesn't matter, Aemond is my client and my job is to secure and protect his career," he tells you seriously, "And if you'd rather take this to fighting for full custody of Aenar, then so be it," he nods at you, "But I assure you, you're going to end up losing."
"That's enough."
Finally, Aemond's voice rises from where he stands, aimed directly at Criston, with a serious, hard stare that reveals a newfound determination.
"We are talking about our son, an issue that concerns her and me, this has nothing to do with you," he declares, his tone firm and his posture defiant.
"Your career has to do with me," he clarifies to her also serious, "You must think about what you are going to sacrifice. Your future, your career, the opportunities that await you-
"I said that's enough," he spits back at her, serious and annoyed, watching him with a hard stare, taking Criston by surprise.
And before he can say anything else, there is another knock on the door, drawing your full attention and making you feel completely alert, especially when Criston is the one who again goes to open the door, as if he knows exactly who it is.
And as you open the door, just like that day, Aemond's publicist, an assistant and the PR people enter your apartment.
Surprise flashes all over your face, watching with your eyes wide open the unexpected arrival of that group of people, whose intentions are not good.
"Thank you for coming," Criston tells them as he closes the door behind him.
"Of course."
Their eyes flick to you for a moment and then focus on Aenar, watching them back with curiosity in their gaze, while you feel confusion and fear completely take over you.
Despair, fear, your future, Aenar, everything mixes together in a horrible way that makes you want to vomit, letting out a couple of tears to quickly turn to your son and hold him in your arm, turning your back to them and starting to cry silently.
And Aemond, seeing your reaction, equally as surprised as you, quickly turns to Criston, his gaze full of confusion and annoyance.
"What is this? Why have you called them?" he inquires with his voice full of restrained anger.
And Criston, unabashed and uncaring of his actions, responds with a calm but calculated determination.
"We are not going before a jury to settle this, Aemond, it will be a waste of time and she will cause us more trouble," he says regardless, "This is necessary for your career, to address this whole issue strategically to protect your image, whether she likes it or not."
Aemond's expression transforms to one of frustration and helplessness.
But before he can intervene, his entire team begins to act.
"We need to establish an immediate plan, now," Criston says.
"Will the strategy be to minimize the impact on the media?" asks the publicity man.
"No, I want it hidden," Criston clarifies, "The approach must be careful and calculated. The priority is Aemond's reputation and career."
"I suggest we limit the exposure of Y/N and the child in public."
"We could create an alternative narrative to deflect attention by highlighting Aemond's professional accomplishments and minimizing the focus on his personal life."
"This must be handled with discretion. We cannot allow this situation to interfere with Aemond's career opportunities," Criston says firmly.
And so your entire living room fills with the sound of all those voices, each voice contributing ideas to control the situation, the problems, Aenar and you.
The tension intensifies, as everyone meticulously plans how to run the public narrative, completely ignoring Aemond's and your personal needs and concerns.
Tears slip down your cheeks silently as you hug Aenar tightly to your chest. This instantly catches the attention of Aemond, who steps worriedly towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder, positioning himself in front of you, but you abruptly pull away from him, watching him with an expression of pain and anguish amidst your tears and suffering face.
"Y/N—
"Why are you doing this? Why are you allowing this?" you ask in your broken, desperate voice.
"No, I swear to you I had no idea that he—
"I left, Aemond," you remind him with your voice cracking, "I left to save your career. And everything was fine, with you and me, our lives," you sob, "Why did you ask Criston to find me? Why do you care and insist on saying you want to be in our lives, when your career is still the most important thing?"
Pain and confusion echo in your words, lingering in the mind of Aemond, who in his gaze reflects a mixture of guilt, bewilderment, pain and sadness.
But everything hurts him more the moment you turn away from him, with a defeated gesture, turning your back to him and your whole body trembling in fear, Aenar in your arms being what gives you strength not to fall apart at that moment.
"We can prepare official statements to control the leaking information to minimize any negative impact on his public reputation."
"Rest assured that we need to maintain full control of this situation. We cannot allow any details to slip out," Aemond hears Criston's voice.
And that's when something snaps inside him.
Every repressed feeling bursts out in a whirlwind of emotions that were fighting to get out, your worry, the anger at himself and the guilt that invades him.
Everything explodes and ignites into a fury that he can no longer contain, seeing your state, causing him anger and feeling completely guilty.
Because everything is in fact his fault.
So without waiting a second longer, he walks to the center of the living room and with a hard, serious, completely annoyed look on his face and with his jaw clenched, he acts.
"Get out of here, all of you, now!" he exclaims, instantly drawing everyone's attention and yours as well.
For an instant everyone watches him and nothing else, slightly surprised and expectant, Criston too, unmoving and doing nothing, causing you a wave of despair.
"I said everyone out!" he exclaims in a firm voice and his gaze full of determination.
And it's only then that one by one the team finally leaves your apartment, except for Criston.
"What are you doing?" he inquires with a touch of disbelief in his tone, challenging Aemond.
"You get out of here too."
He orders him annoyed and with irritation, his voice charged with a frustration that has already reached its limit.
"Aemond, this is important, you can't just—
"I need to talk to Y/N alone," he interrupts her with his tone in a mixture of anger and determination, "I'm warning you, Criston. If you ever do anything else again without consulting me and interfering with this, I'm going to seriously consider firing you, which is what I should have done long ago," he shoots back at him with his defiant stare.
The pulse of the room beats with unbearable intensity as Aemond and Criston hold a duel of intense stares. However, in the face of Aemond's firmness, Criston finally resigns himself with a serious, annoyed look, full of frustration and resignation.
And finally he heads for the door, his footsteps sounding in the room as he leaves the apartment.
Aemond watches him leave with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, no longer feeling his shoulders tense. The silence expands once more as soon as the door closes and he turns to you with a gaze filled with a quiet, worried intensity.
The silence lingers for a few moments longer, a dense atmosphere charged with unspoken emotions. When he takes a step toward you, hesitantly.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice ringing with sincerity and regret, "What happened, my insistence… none of this was my intention, much less to cause you pain and hurt you," he admits with his vulnerability again reflected.
And even though it's just you and him in your apartment, your fear lingers.
"P-please don't take my son from me," you plead between sobs, your voice filled with anguish and fear.
Aemond's heart contracts in suffering and worry at your words, his gaze instantly reflecting it.
"What? No, no, Y/N… that is not what I want to do, it is not my intention to take our son from you."
He tells you instantly insistent but in a serene and sincere voice, taking a few more steps towards you, placing himself in front of you, trying to reassure you. But tears continue to slide down your cheeks.
"This is why I left, so I wouldn't cause you any more trouble, so I could live and keep our son safe," you repeat with your voice cracking.
"I know, Y/N, I know," he tells you sympathetically and with a soft tone, "And you don't know how much I hate myself for having been the cause of you deciding to leave, for having hurt you so much to the point of having made that decision," he says sincerely, his eye beginning to tear up, "And this is not just about him, about our son," he tries to explain, "Yes, it is important, but it is also about us," he speaks with a longing, "Since you left, I never stopped thinking about you, and I-I...
He hesitates, unable to fully express his feelings, as he stands in front of you and wants to hold you, you and your son, as he faces his deepest emotions, feeling a tear run down his cheek and looks at you with all the sincerity and pain in his gaze.
"I love you," he finally says, in a completely vulnerable whisper, trembling, lowering his gaze, unable to look you in the eye, "Despite everything, despite my mistakes, despite my work, despite everything that happened…. I-I still love you," he declares in a whisper laden with longing and regret, "And our son too."
His words get stuck in your mind.
With your heart clenched by the surge of emotions, your eyes watch him back with a mixture of surprise, pain and longing. Aemond's sincerity and vulnerability... it's all too much and makes you feel completely helpless, definitely not expecting that.
You can't speak, your words get stuck in your throat, your heart fluttering with the intensity of the moment, your surprise.
And Aemond completely understands your silence.
"I understand that you don't love me anymore and that you can't love me again, I also understand that things can't go back to the way they used to be because of my job. But please… don't keep running away," he pleads quietly, "We won't fight over custody, there will be no legal repercussions, I'm not going to do any of that," he assures you, "Just…" he lets out a long breath, "Just get back to work and let's face this together."
He proposes with his voice full of fragile but hopeful determination, unexpectedly causing you to feel a relief and a warm feeling in your chest.
"I just want Aenar to be okay and let's consider his well-being as the most important thing," you say quietly, while Aemond listens attentively with his face full of longing, regret and understanding, "But we need time and patience. Also that no one else interferes."
Aemond nods, with a slightly more relieved expression, but keeping in mind that there is much to resolve, to heal and to build.
"I understand that and… I'm willing to do whatever it takes… for him and for you," he says sincerely.
You nod too, as silence takes over again, but this time it is permeated with a shared understanding and a determination to face whatever is necessary for Aenar's well-being.
And finally after so much, you feel calm and fortunately, this time with the support of Aemond, who hesitantly leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead and another on Aenar's forehead, taking him back into his arms.
taglist:
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@anehkael
#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x oc#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen angst#modern aemond#ewan mitchell#ewan nation#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell fandom#ewan mitchell characters
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