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storiesforallfandoms · 5 months

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new toy ~ felix catton;saltburn

word count: 5901

request?: no

description: when he brings a girl home for the summer, she finds herself struggling to fit into his lifestyle

pairing: felix catton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of parent deaths, farleigh being a catty rich bitch (affectionate), feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, little bit of angst, things get steamy but no actual smut in this one

masterlist (one, two, three)

Venetia rushed to the window of her bedroom as she heard the car carrying her brother pulling up the drive. The family had been made aware that Felix was bringing a friend home for the summer. Not that anyone had to tell them. Felix often had a new sad sack in tow whenever he came home from school, who would never be seen again once they returned to school at the end of the summer. Venetia had tried to get some information on this new friend from Farleigh, but her cousin said he hadn't seen anyone new hanging out with Felix during the school year. She was itching to get a peak at Felix's newest toy.

She gasped and turned to Farleigh, who was looking at her in curiosity. "It's a girl!"

(Y/N) stepped out of the car as Felix excitedly talked away. She looked at the giant house with wide eyes. She knew Felix had money; his parents were paying his way through college after all, meanwhile (Y/N) was a scholarship kid. But she never could've imagined he was this level of rich. His house was a goddamn castle!

She was wondering if it was too late to back out of Felix's offer to stay over.

An older man dressed in a black suit opened the front door as (Y/N) and Felix approached. (Y/N) stopped suddenly as the man's glare landed on her.

"Duncan!" Felix exclaimed. "How are you, you serious old brute?"

"Good to see you, master Felix. This is your new...friend?"

The way he said it made (Y/N) wince.

Felix turned to her and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Don't be frightened, (Y/N). This is my family butler, Duncan. He looks terrifying, but his bark is worse than his bite."

(Y/N) tried to smile at Duncan, but he merely continued to stare her down. She shrunk into Felix's embrace, which, luckily, the taller boy noticed her discomfort and brought her into the house. With his arm still around her, Felix brought (Y/N) around the giant house. There was so much to see, so much to know. There was simply no way she'd remember it all. She expected to get lost just trying to get to the bathroom.

Luckily, that wouldn't be a problem at least, as Felix led her into his room. "Your room is just through here. We'll be sharing a bathroom. Hope you don't mind."

She was glad he wasn't facing her so he missed the look on her face at his statement.

Felix threw the door to her room open with a flourish before turning to her. "And this is where you'll be staying. Don't worry about unpacking, the butlers will do that for you. It has a nice view of the garden and such, and I'm just next door past the bathroom, as you've already seen."

He flopped down onto her bed and stretched out so he was taking up the entire bed. (Y/N) pushed his leg over a bit so she could sit next to him. "It's a lot to take in."

"I know," Felix said. He rolled onto his side to look up at her. "It'll feel like a lot, but I promise my family will love you. And if it gets overwhelming, I'll be here."

He put his hand on her leg. She looked down at it, the heat from where his hand was touching rising from that spot all the way up to her face. Her entire body felt like it had been ignited by a simple gesture to try and bring her comfort. She wondered if Felix knew what he did to her.

She tried not to let her disappointment show as Felix stood, removing his hand from her leg.

"I'll let you unwind or whatever," he said. "Dinner isn't until 5, so you have plenty of time to yourself until then. You brought a dress, right?" She nodded. "Good. Mum and dad insist on fancy dinner wear. It's a little embarrassing. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

And just like that, he was gone. (Y/N) sighed and fell back onto the bed.

This definitely was not how she expected to spend her summer. She had started her time at Oxford as an outcast, a scholarship loser among a sea of rich kids. She tired not to let it get to her. Getting into Oxford at all was a big deal, (Y/N) knew to be proud of that. But that didn't make the whispers and dirty looks directed towards her any easier to take.

She didn't seek out friendship with anyone, let alone with Felix. Of course, she had noticed Felix. Who wouldn't? He was beautiful and had charm for days. Everyone loved him. But (Y/N) knew better than to try and approach him. They were from two completely different worlds, and (Y/N) knew she didn't belong in his world.

To her surprise, it was Felix who initiated first contact.

They were in an English class together. Felix had sat next to her one day and asked, "Did you finish the reading for today?" (Y/N) was so shocked that he had spoken to her that she could only nod in response. "Can you summarize it for me? I tried to read it but it was so fucking boring."

Apparently, that one act of kindness was enough to consider (Y/N) a friend. Felix invited her to sit with him at the bar, to come study in his room, to go to the "invite only" parties on campus. His other rich friends didn't seem to enjoy her company, but he did and that's all that mattered.

When (Y/N) told Felix she had nowhere to go for the summer, he invited her to come stay with him and his family in Saltburn. He refused to take no for an answer. So now here she was, in a bedroom that only had a bathroom to separate her and the boy she had started developing feelings for but knew she couldn't have, in a house the size of a castle owned by a family who mad more money than she'd ever see in her life.

She let out another sigh for good measure before sitting up. She still had plenty of time before dinner, but she wanted to make sure she was presentable to meet Felix's family for the first time. She got up and went to the bathroom, locking the door that led to Felix's room just in case. There was no shower, so she had to opt for a bath. She tried to be quick, but once she had laid in the oversized tub and allowed the hot water to engulf her, she never wanted to get out. Maybe she could spend the entire summer in the tub instead of dealing with Felix's family.

When the water began to go cold, she reluctantly got out and returned to her room. She had packed the limited amount of makeup she owned just in case there were any formal gatherings she needed to dress up for. Now she was definitely glad she had if dinner was meant to be a formal thing. She did her makeup carefully to make sure it was perfect, then dug through her bag for the dress she had packed. It wasn't anything super fancy, just a royal blue, off the shoulder dress with a pleated skirt that came down just above the knee. It was the nicest dress she owned, so eh hoped it would suffice.

There was still some time before dinner, but (Y/N) figured it was time to meet the family.

She stepped out of her room and realized she had no idea where to go to find the dining room.

"Need help?"

(Y/N) jumped and turned to see Duncan stood, blank faced yet again, looking at her,

"Yes please," she responded, her voice soft.

"Follow me," Duncan told her. He didn't wait to see if she was following, she she quickly troted along behind him to keep up.

The Catton family was sat around the dinner table already when Duncan led (Y/N) into the room. All eyes turned to her when she walked in. She suddenly felt very self conscious and wished she was back in the hot, welcoming bath tub.

Until she caught Felix looking at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

"Oh, Felix, darling," an older woman sat at the head of the table - Felix's mom - said. "She is absolutely beautiful."

His mom stood from her seat and quickly approached (Y/N). She gently cupped (Y/N)'s cheeks. (Y/N) tensed, unsure of what to do. Mrs. Catton didn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't let on.

"Honey, you didn't tell us how beautiful she was," Mrs. Catton said to her son.

"You never believe me," Felix retorted.

Mrs. Catton turned back to (Y/N). "Welcome, darling. We're very happy to have you here. You can call me Lady Elspeth." She took (Y/N)'s hands and squeezed them, then gestured towards the table. "We left a seat free next to Felix for you. Come, sit. Dinner will be served soon."

(Y/N) quickly moved to the table, oping to no longer be the center of attention. Felix was still smiling at her as she sat down next to him.

"You do look beautiful," he said.

Her face started heating up. "Thank you."

Across from them, a throat cleared. Felix glanced up at his cousin. (Y/N) didn't miss the subtle change in Felix's expression. "(Y/N), this is my cousin, Farleigh, and my sister, Venetia."

"Oh, I know Farleigh," she said, looking over at the other young man. He gave her an obviously forced smile. "I-I mean, I know of Farleigh. I've seen you around on campus."

"Weird that I haven't seen you. It's not like Felix to hide his friends away," Farleigh said.

"I wasn't hiding her away." Felix's face was tense. (Y/N) wondered what the story between him and Farleigh was. They seemed to get along well on campus, or at least Farleigh was in Felix's friend group.

Dinner was served, thus breaking up the tense moment. A plate was placed in front of everyone and they all began to eat. (Y/N) tried not to draw too much attention to herself, but she knew her presence alone was drawing attention. Both Farleigh and Venetia weren't very subtle with the way they were staring at her.

"So, (Y/N)," Elspeth said after a few moments of silence, "what is it you're studying at Oxford?"

"English," (Y/N) responded. "I'd like to be a writer when I graduate, but I know that's not an entirely realistic dream so I'm aiming to be an English teacher as a backup."

"Oh, writing! That's wonderful, darling!" Elspeth said. (Y/N) was somewhat shocked that Elspeth seemed genuine with her interest. "Have you written anything yet?"

"A few short stories." She shrugged. "Nothing major."

"'Nothing major'?" Felix questioned. "She's won contests with her short stories! Remember, you told me one of your stories was published in an anthology of short stories when you were still in high school?"

Elspeth and Felix's dad, Sir James, were impressed, while (Y/N) was surprised that Felix had remembered her telling him that. He was smiling down at her in pride and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Is that how you got your scholarship?" Farleigh asked. The look on his face told (Y/N) that his question wasn't as genuine as Elspeth's had been.

"Farleigh," Felix sneered.

"What? I was just asking. It's not like it's a secret that she's a scholarship kid. There's no shame in needing some financial help."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Boys," James said, his voice stern in warning.

Dinner fell quiet after that. (Y/N) pushed her food around her plate, suddenly no longer hungry. She was back to wishing she could melt away into the floor and never be seen again. Maybe it wasn't too late to just go back to the school and stay in the dorms alone for the summer.

Once she had finished eating, she politely excused herself and went back to her room. She had paid enough attention when Duncan showed her to the dining room that she made it back with no issue. The minute the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh. A lump had started to form in her throat, but she was refusing to let herself cry. Even now while she was alone, she didn't want to give in to these feelings. She had to be strong, at least until she could get her things together and figure out a way back to the school.

As Felix had told her, the butlers had unpacked her bag while she was at dinner. It took her a moment to find her pajamas and makeup remover. She pulled on an oversized shirt she had packed to wear on the warm nights and was leaned over the dresser to start taking off her makeup, the shirt riding up just enough, when the door connecting her and Felix suddenly opened. Felix walked in, still in his suit from dinner, except he had removed his tie and the top few buttons had been undone. (Y/N) quickly stood up straight, pulling her shirt down to cover her ass.

"Don't you knock?" she asked.

"No, why would I?" he said.

"What if I was changing?"

"You weren't."

She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her makeup off, this time more cautious about how much of her was being exposed with Felix in the room.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about how Farleigh acted during dinner," Felix said.

(Y/N) paused for a moment. She glanced at Felix through the mirror. He was looking up at her with an expression that told her his apology was genuine.

"It's alright," she said.

"No, it wasn't alright. He shouldn't be saying those things about you. It's not like he's much different. My parents have financially supported him for years and let him stay here for free. At least you earned your scholarship, he only got his way in life because of his family."

"So did you, though." There was a beat, and (Y/N) quickly turned to face Felix. "Wait, I didn't mean - "

"No, you're right," he cut her off. "My parents have financially helped me, too. You're the only one among us who has really earned your spot at Oxford. It's not fair of Farleigh to try and make you feel small because you come from a different background."

(Y/N) wanted to tell him it wasn't just Farleigh, it was everyone at Oxford. Even Felix's own friend group had shunned (Y/N) when he introduced her to them. It felt like Felix was the only one who truly wanted to befriend (Y/N).

"You don't have to apologize for him," she said instead. "But I appreciate that you'd want to."

"You're my friend. I didn't bring you here to be insulted by my obnoxious cousin, I brought you here because I wanted you to spend the summer with us."

Friend.

Even though she knew that's all they were, it still stung to hear him say it. She wanted so much more than that, but it was wishful thinking to believe that Felix cause ever want more than that.

"I...I think I'm gonna just...get in bed."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "It's still only early."

"I know. All the travel just has me feeling pretty worn out."

"Okay."

He stood and (Y/N) expected him to go back to his room. When he started to unbutton his shirt more, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"What are you doing?!"

"I was going to stay over here tonight. If you were okay with that, that is."

"You're supposed to ask these things before you just start undressing."

Felix chuckled as (Y/N) turned her back to him. "You really don't want to watch as I undress?"

Of course I want to watch! "I'm just...trying to be courteous."

He laughed again. (Y/N) could hear the sounds of his clothes hitting the floor. She wondered why he hadn't at least gone back to his room to get a pair of pajamas. At least pajama pants. She was starting to get the feeling that at home, Felix didn't have to ask many questions, and that also extended towards his guests.

"Okay, I am covered."

When she turned back, he was under the covers of her bed, his hands behind his head so she could see that he was at least shirtless under there.

"The bed is big enough for us to share," he said, reading the shocked look on her face. "That is, again, if you don't mind."

"N-No. I-I guess that's fine."

(Y/N) crawled into bed next to Felix. She tried to put as much distance between the two of them as she could but, despite what Felix said, the bed certainly was not that big. She could still feel the heat from his body as she turned onto her side, her back to him. She could feel his nearness. And she could feel the fact that he was only wearing his boxers.

"You don't have to stay, you know," she said. "I'm not going to slip away during the night or something."

He bed shook a little as he laughed. "I know. I just wanted to stay over here. At the very least, I want to make sure you don't have any issues sleeping. I always find I struggle when I'm trying to sleep in a new place."

(Y/N) rolled onto her other side so that she could face Felix. The full moon was shining through the window, illuminating his face. He turned his head to look down at her.

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Felix," she said, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.

He smiled. "Get some sleep, (Y/N). I don't intend on having a boring day tomorrow if the weather is nice."

~~~~~~

When (Y/N) woke up the next morning, she completely forgot where she was. The bed was far too soft to be the one in her dorm at Oxford, and it was certainly too hot to be just a normal day during the schooling semester.

Not to mention the fact that there was a body laying under her.

(Y/N)'s eyes snapped open as she realized her head was resting on Felix's chest, and his arm around wrapped around her. At some point in the night, they must've shifted so that they were cuddling. (Y/N) wasn't sure if she should pull away or stay where she was. What would Felix's reaction be when he woke up and found them both in such a compromising position?

A knock came at her door. "Miss. (Y/N)?"

It was Duncan's voice. Now she was definitely panicking.

"Just checking if you're awake," he added.

"Uh...yeah! I am Duncan!" she called back.

"Breakfast is being served in ten minutes. Do wake up master Felix and let him know as well. His mother will want him to punctual since she didn't get as much time with him last night."

Her face burned. She wondered if Duncan knew Felix was in here with her, or if he meant for her to go over to Felix's room to wake him.

The sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway told her that Duncan had walked away. She let out a breath, relaxing into Felix's side yet again. She felt him move beneath her and she quickly pulled out of his arms before he started to wake up.

She was shocked at how beautiful he looked in the morning. The same perfect beauty he had when he fell asleep. Not a single hair out of place, no drool on his lips, no sleepy gunk in his eyes. It was really unfair just how perfect he really was.

His eyes slowly blinked open and he smiled when he saw (Y/N) looking down at him. "Good morning."

"Morning," she said. "Uh, Duncan was just here. He said breakfast is in ten minutes."

Felix groaned. "I don't want to get up yet. Why does mum have to have breakfast so early?"

(Y/N) looked at the clock hung on the wall. "It's almost 10am."

"Far too early to wake up in the summer."

She couldn't help but chuckle a little. Felix stretched his arms out and sat up as well. His face was suddenly very close to hers, almost too close.

"I suppose I should get ready for breakfast then," he said.

"Is there any dress code for breakfast?"

He shook his head. "Not for breakfast, but the dress code for today's events is a bathing suit. Once we finish eating, I'm taking you down to the lake."

~~~~~~

A few hours later, (Y/N) was following Felix towards the lake next to his house. It was a scorching hot day outside. One that was definitely better spent in the cooling water instead of cooped up inside.

Farleigh and Venetia were already by the lake. Farleigh was laid back on a towel, reading some book, while Venetia was sat by the lake with her feet in the water. She looked over her shoulder as she heard the two approach and smiled.

"Well, here they are!" she announced. "Finally you're here."

"Pull up a towel," Farleigh said, not looking up from his book.

(Y/N) went to sit on the grass, but Venetia called, "Not you! You're joining me down here. I've been surrounded by this testosterone for far too long."

She wasn't about to argue. She was already coated in sweat just from walking down from the house. (Y/N) sat beside Venetia and placed her feet in the water. The sudden cold was like a shock to her system, but definitely a welcome one.

"So, (Y/N)," Venetia said, "tell me, how did you and my brother meet?"

"We were in class together," (Y/N) responded. "I helped him with an assigned reading he had trouble with."

"Saved my ass from failing that surprise test the professor gave us," Felix added.

"It wasn't a surprise, he told us about it the class before," (Y/N) said.

"I wasn't there that class, so it was a surprise to me."

"Was that the day you were too hungover after a dorm party on a Sunday night?" Farleigh asked.

"A Sunday?!" (Y/N) laughed.

"It was a surprise party for one of my friends in the dorm," Felix responded. "He had gone home for the weekend so we had to have the party that Sunday. I didn't plan to get fucked up that night."

"You never do," Farleigh commented.

"What about your family, (Y/N)?" Venetia interrupted. "Are they okay with you spending your summer with a load of strangers?"

Felix opened his mouth to deter his sister from asking, but (Y/N) cut him off by saying, "My parents are dead."

A silence fell over them. Venetia looked a mixture of horrified and sad. Farleigh lowered his book to look over at (Y/N). Felix was trying not to look at any of them while (Y/N) was fixing her attention on the water in front of her. She was running her feet back and forth, disrupting the otherwise calm water.

"They died when I was ten," she continued. "Car accident, drunk driver. I've lived with my grandparents since then, but my grandpa died a year ago and my gran is starting to develop dementia. When I got accepted into Oxford, I made a deal with the Dean that I could stay on campus during the summers until I could afford my own place."

Venetia looked like she was about to cry. (Y/N) suddenly wished she had lied and made up some story about her parents.

"Way to ruin the moon, V," Farleigh commented.

"I didn't know!" Venetia retorted.

"No, it's fine," (Y/N) cut off their bickering. "It's tough, but I've had years to come to terms with all the death, and gran is in a nursing home now so she's being taken care of. I don't want anyone to tip toe around me like I'm made of glass."

As if to make her point, (Y/N) pushed off the edge of the lake and into the water. She shrieked as the cold engulfed her. Venetia followed suit, and soon enough both of them had convinced Farleigh and Felix to get into the water as well. The conversation was long forgotten as they swam around, splashing one another as if they were children.

~~~~~~

That night, (Y/N) was sat in the garden underneath her bedroom window. With the sun gone down, the air had cooled off, but only slightly. The room was still too stuffy for her, and opening the window just made it worse, so she opted to sit out in the cool air before she tried to sleep again.

Footsteps approached and she expected it to be Felix. When she turned, she was surprised to see Venetia instead, dressed in a sheer nightgown and carrying a lit cigarette between her fingers.

"Mind if I sit?" Venetia asked.

"I feel like I should be the one asking you that, considering it's your house."

Venetia chuckled and sat next to her.

(Y/N)'s first impression of Venetia had been wrong, and she was kind of glad it had been. She thought that, like Farleigh, Venetia was also going to be a little catty and condescending towards her. But after their day by the lake, she felt a sort of kinship with Venetia. They were the only two young girls at Saltburn, they had to look out for one another at the very least.

"So, how are you enjoying your stay so far?" Venetia asked.

"It's lovely here," (Y/N) said. "Much better than spending the summer at the Oxford campus along. At least there's a lot of the house to explore, and at least two people who seem to want me here."

"Three, if you count mum. She's ecstatic to have you. If you're not careful, she might just try and adopt you."

"I wouldn't complain."

Venetia took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "And, um...has Felix been treating you well?"

(Y/N) looked over at her with confusion. "I'd...say more than well. Why?"

"I just..." Venetia leaned over, resting her arms against her legs. "I'm not saying this to try and scare you or anything. I truly like you, (Y/N), and I just want to warn you because I know how my brother is. He often takes someone who is a little more...damaged than him under his wing and brings them back here for a few months. But once the summer ends, or once he's lost interest, he casts them aside for whatever new shiny toy catches his attention."

Venetia's words hit (Y/N) like a ton of bricks. She had been telling herself for months since meeting Felix that their friendship was too good to be true, that he was going to realize he was making a mistake and move on. But when he didn't, when he asked her back to his house for the summer, she thought that maybe she was wrong. Maybe he actually did care for her and wanted to be friends with her. She had a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe this summer would bring them closer together, that they could become more than just friends.

If anyone would know how Felix was, it would be Venetia. She was his sister. She had seen a lifetime of the way Felix acted with friends. If she was warning her of the possibility that Felix might toss her aside once the summer ended, then she felt inclined to believe Venetia.

"Again, I'm not telling you this as a way to make you upset," Venetia added. "Trust me, I want nothing more than for you to stay with us for the summer. I just really do not want you to get hurt if that's what happens with Felix."

Tears were forming in (Y/N)'s eyes again. She was having a harder time at fighting them than the night before after all Farleigh had said to her. She quickly stood and murmured a "goodnight" to Venetia before rushing back inside the house. She got to her bedroom just in time for the tears to start falling.

Stupid! You're so stupid for thinking you belonged here in his world. You're nothing more than a charity case for him!

(Y/N) sunk to the floor and buried her head in her hands. She cried and cried until the tears dried up and she was essentially dry sobbing. Her eyes felt heavy and her body was aching from being on the floor for so long. She just wanted to go to back to the school and pretend this entire trip never happened.

When she finally coaxed herself to stand, (Y/N) went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth before bed. She looked at herself in the mirror and winced. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks were flush, and there were tear stains on her cheeks from crying. She grabbed a face cloth and wet it down with warm water. Before she could start wiping her face, the door leading to Felix's room opened. She froze, the wet cloth in her hands.

"Hey," Felix said. She thought for a moment that he hadn't noticed her state, until suddenly he was beside her. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, wincing again at the sound of her horse voice.

"You don't look or sound fine."

She began to wipe her face, trying to ignore Felix's presence. As she rinsed the face cloth again, she said, "I think I'm going to call the Dean tomorrow to ask if my room is still available at the school, then look into getting the next train back to Oxford as soon as possible."

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to stay."

(Y/N) shook her head. "I don't belong here, Felix. This is your world, not mine. I'm just the girl with dead parents and a scholarship, struggling to figure out how or if I'll ever be financially stable enough to live on my own once the school kicks me out."

"What did Farleigh say to you?"

"It wasn't Farleigh!" she snapped, finally turning to face him. "It was Venetia! She told me that you don't let people stick around for long. That you take in the charity cases and toss them aside when you're bored. And I knew that's what was happening with me, I knew there was no way you could possibly want to be friends with me, but I was also stupid enough to let myself believe that maybe it was all real. That maybe you actually cared and you actually wanted me here!"

She was crying again. She must've looked and sounded insane. She wished she had never accepted Felix's offer to come here. She could only imagine what he would say about her when she left the next day.

"I'm not staying here and waiting to be hurt, Felix," she said. "You may think it's fun to toy with people's emotions, but I don't. Not when I trusted you in telling you about my parents, about my stories, about my sad little poor life."

She had more to say, although she wasn't sure if any of it would've made sense, but Felix cut her off before she could. He took hold of her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It surprised her at first and she pulled away almost immediately. He looked down at her, worried, like he was scared he had just crossed a line. When her brain finally caught up to what was happening, she quickly leaned back in to kiss him again.

Her hands held on to his shirt while one of his still cupped her face and the other started to move down her body. With one quick movement, he had lifted her up onto the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands moved to tangle into his hair. His tongue moved across her bottom lip, silently asking for entrance to her mouth. She realized he was commando under his pajama pants when she felt him pressed against her, the only layer between being her panties as she was once again in the oversized shirt she had worn the night before.

Felix broke away first. She tried to follow him, but he held her back, a playful grin on his face.

"I don't want you to go," he said. "I want you here. Not just for this summer, but every summer from now on. I want you in my dorm room back at school, and eventually in my own place when we finish with school. I want you, (Y/N). You're not some toy to me."

"How long have you felt like this?" she asked.

"Since before I spoke to you in class that first day."

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I kept chickening out. Every girl I've been with has only wanted me for my money, or my looks, or both. No one has ever really cared for me as a person. When you did, it almost intimidated me. I needed to know for sure you'd be here for the long run, so I brought you home to see how you'd react to everything."

"Am I passing the test?"

He chuckled and kissed her again. "With flying colors."

She couldn't get enough of him; of his lips, his smile, his body against hers, his hands on her. She wanted all of him all the time. She suddenly never wanted to leave either of their rooms for the rest of the summer.

"You can still go back to school if you feel uncomfortable here. I wouldn't blame you there," he said. "But if you're going back, I'm coming with you."

She shook her head. "I couldn't take you away from your family."

"Then stay. I want you to be here, too. I want to be with you."

She grinned cheekily back at him. "If you're going to beg, you should be on your knees at least."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "If that's what you want."

She wanted all of him all the time, but she decided not to say that just yet. She was still a little cautious. She had to make sure Felix meant what he was saying, even if she felt deep down that he was. He needed to prove himself to her before she opened up that much to him.

But for now, she would definitely take the sight of him on his knees, his face between her legs as his hands pushed the shirt up around her hips.

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine #saltburn #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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evilminji · 7 months

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Actually? You know what would be darkly hilarious?

If, when the GIW can't get ghosts declared both malicious AND non-sapient/sentient? They push for "dumb animals" instead.

Which is accepted. Ghosts are animals. Checks out, says scientists everywhere.

HOW "dumb"?

What? Says the GIW, mid-victory high fives. They did not expect a follow up question. They SHOULD have, as this is the SCIENTIFIC community and that is literally their job, but here we are.

How. "Dumb"? The scientists repeate slower. What methodology did you use? What is your sample size? Are their different sub-species? Is this dimension like ours? Is Ghost the equivalent to Mammal? It says here their are humanoid ones.

What IQ are we talking about here and HOW DID YOU TEST??

A goldfish, parrot, and dolphin are all animals. WILDLY different levels of intelligence. You can't treat them the same. Technically speaking, WE are animals.

The GIW does not like where this conversation is going. Tries to shut it down.

.......well NOW the scientists are both offended AND invested. How DARE you try to push faulty science and hide the Truth from them! They're gonna do their OWN studies! *picks up the phone and dials that one embarrassing spiritualist friend they had in college* Hey! You still think you can summon ghosts? I'll pay you to try it for Science!

And like? As a Ghost? It's degrading as hell. But ALSO these fuckos just Whoopsie'd you into having both protections under the law, since animal abuse IS illegal, AND just put the ENTIRE planets scientific community on their asses.... by accident.

So you take a deeeeeeep breath you don't even need. Remember you're doing this for the little ghost babies and fluffy ghost animals. And show up at a research facility like "yes, hello, I am Ghost. Here for you to poke and prod at. Please ask me to name the object on the flash card or whatever IQ tests do these days."

Should you HAVE to prove your own fucking sentience? No. But? You do it. You're even polite about it. Ask for a copy of the study they plan to publish so you can BEAT some mother fuckers with it. The scientists nod in understanding and use the BIG font for your copy so it'll hurt more.

They've been there.

And just? Shitty people getting what they wanted only to have it blow up in their faces?? I see all these angst "but what if they were declared ANIMALS" prompts and I just?? Are we talking PARROT or goldfish!? One has the average intelligence of about a human 4yr old and the other is a FISH! People get RIGHTFULLY furious when you treat INTELLIGENT animals badly.

And would, in fact, adapt pretty easy to discovering one of said animal has become HUMAN lvl intelligent. It's easy to grasp the idea of human intelligence lvl dolphin or monkeys. Maybe there was some mutated strain, maybe in uetro tampering. Who knows. But if I tried to sell you a human intelligent housefly? Gold fish? Lizard?

You wouldn't believe me. There is some kind of trick at play.

So if GHOSTS are seen as animals? Everyone nods and then later? Someone comes in TV and very excitedly informs you "we found INTELLIGENT LIFE amongst the ghosts!" You'd believe it. Probably be really excited by your conversation starter for the day. Get a taco and move on with your life.

But? Having to willing sit for a barrage of testing? Is going to suuuuuuck so bad. Poor Danny. SATs all over again. For HOURS. At multiple facilities, just to be CERTAIN it's not a one off. All because he not certain he can insure good behavior from other ghosts and This Is IMPORTANT. He ALSO can't be certain it's even SAFE.

Might be a trap.

But if he has to do it again and again and again? Mexico to Bavaria to China to the Maldives? If this is what it takes for the scientific community to bitchslap the GIW into ORBIT before the UN? Hand him that pencil.

He has no where more important to be.

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation @ailithnight @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #you wanna call me an animal?#well check mate!#SO ARE YOU #now they're asking what KIND of animal i am!#and THIS ghost is sayin SAPIEN!#i am in your scientific community #disproving your theories!#your studies were bad and you should feel bad!#danny phantom

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uglypastels · 8 months

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the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain,

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside.

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet.

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater.

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance.

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly.

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door.

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you.

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you.

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement.

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead.

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement.

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter.

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares.

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly.

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued.

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from.

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation.

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence.

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to.

‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it.

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece.

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with.

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates.

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile.

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you.

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you.

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted.

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks.

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat.

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point.

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people.

Deep breath in.

Out.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you.

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened.

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve.

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it.

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease.

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest.

Silence.

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit.

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately.

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours.

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you.

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you.

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you.

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small.

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements.

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience.

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.’

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses.

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked.

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise?

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time.

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly.

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect.

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you.

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer.

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work.

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him.

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag.

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled.

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt.

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste.

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again.

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner.

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter.

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart.

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit.

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed.

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out.

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you.

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven.

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie.

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle.

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more.

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees.

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak.

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic.

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest.

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’ he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly.

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle.

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints.

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy.

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly.

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact.

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made.

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts.

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot.

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more.

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand.

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort.

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter.

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over.

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly.

And you were tired. And hungry.

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water.

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you.

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating.

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you.

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet.

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.

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jj-one · 1 month

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STRAY KIDS + POSSESSIVENESS ! 🩹 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: dom!skz x sub!fem!reader, established relationship, husband!changbin bc why not ? genre/tags: smut, angst, fluff (tbh it's only changbin's part), jealousy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, lots of degradation, mentions of crying, marking, manhandling, bondage play, piv, unprotected s*x (do not try this at home kids), public s*x, rough s*x, fingering, nipple play, oral (f & m receiving), t*tty slapping, multiple orgasms, edging, choking, bulge kink, slight breeding kink… am not mentally ok for writing any of this words: 3.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

BANG CHAN. His patience was a level of no other. The man just watched you flirt with his friend and didn’t mutter a single word. All the while you kept boasting about how good Changbin’s muscles looked and the movement of his biceps were leaving you in complete amusement.

Pissed off doesn’t begin to describe what he’s feeling right now. He clears his throat,

“Are we done y/n? I think it’s time we head home now.”

The tone of his voice was cold, icy like a winter storm.

The lump in your throat was stuck. You knew how much in deep shit you were for this and his silence was the main indicator.

You could feel his piercing eyes on you the whole time.

It wasn’t long before you’d end up in this position. Both arms were locked above your head by his strong hands. The tight grip he kept around your wrists was definitely going to leave some bruising.

“You’re such a dumb slut. Did all this just to get me like this huh?” His cock hitting your walls aggressively as you spasm and shake under him.

“All this to get me to fuck you the like the dumb little cockwhore you are?” He growled, “can Changbin fuck you like this?”

His pace was relentless. His cock stretching you open with each deep thrust. His harsh words cutting into you like a dagger. Your mind was blank, head full of Chan’s cock. You had to answer him though, or else he will stop.

“N-no Chan only y-yours… only you can fuck me like this!”

A smirk creeps up his face from your quavering voice. He leans forward, his lips brush over yours as if almost to kiss you but doesn’t.

“I own you y/n. Only I get to have to you, understood?”

All you feel is his cock slamming into you. The slapping sounds becoming a melody of a beat, your heart was racing a mile a minute.

“Understood.”

LEE KNOW. He hates when you act out in public. The way you tease him and get him riled up, knowing he can’t do anything about it. It gave you sense of power, you had the upper hand— for now.

You were wearing the shortest mini skirt possible, it barely covered your bum and you could feel a cool breeze slip through your crevices. You kept walking in front of him, swaying your little hips side to side, letting him watch you bend down to pick things up as he sneaks a peak under your skirt. The sight of the pink lace thong you wore was enough to make him grab you by the arm and yank you into a public restroom nearby.

Before you know it, you’re being devoured by your boyfriend. Sitting on the counter of the sink whilst he was below you, giving you a gaze that could snatch your soul. His digits sunk into your dripping cunt as he swipes his tongue across your slit. Your skirt was still on but pushed up slightly, your thong was also moved to the side.

“I can’t believe you’d go out like this and expect me not to control myself.” He rises up momentarily.

“You do this on purpose, knowing I don’t want other people looking at you.”

He laps up your juices and coats it with his face, scissoring you open with his fingers.

“Fuck… I wore this for you Minho— w-wanted to look pretty for you.” Your eyes were tightly shut, feeling the euphoria as you were close to your orgasm.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, thrusting your hips in the air now, you whine for stimulation.

“Will you be a good girlfriend for me and cum on my tongue kitten? I want you to scream as loud for me as you can, I don’t care who hears it.” Minho was dead serious. He doesn’t care you both are in a public restroom and there’s people casually walking by. He wants everyone to know you are his.

You nod and agree to be on your best behavior for him. You know he will most likely reward you for this in the end.

“I promise, I’ll be a good girl Minho.”

Feeling your body heat surge as he inched closer to your core, pressing his tongue at your entrance. He tongue fucks you viciously while never breaking his eye contact with you.

Feeling yourself come undone from the surreal pleasure, all you want is to feel your release.

You thrash and moan as you cream on Minho’s tongue, your legs felt like jello when you climax. You let out multiple gasps for air, feeling as though you just ran a marathon.

Minho hasn’t left between your legs yet, his face still in a headlock. He wasn’t quite finished with you just yet.

“You can give me one more, right kitten?”

CHANGBIN. Being a newlywed couple felt like a fairytale dream come true. He felt incredibly lucky to have you as his wife and doesn’t stop reminding you how happy he is. He’d shower you with a beacon of compliments that would melt your heart each and every time.

You went on another vacation right after the honeymoon and it felt like paradise. That was up until a small incident occurred, it happened when you were at the pool with your husband. One of the pool goers at the resort couldn’t keep their eyes off you. You wore a sexy one piece that had cut-out details on the sides to show off your waist but you wore a sheer cover up over it.

Changbin noticed straight away the eyes that were glued to you, the eyes that were glued to his precious wife. He was livid. Almost causing a scene, he went up to the perverted man that was eye fucking you and gave him a piece of his mind. In utter disbelief of what was unfolding in front of you, you go up to Changbin to calm him down and get him to stop before he ends up actually doing something he’ll regret. His face burned crimson from anger but the sound of your voice brought him back to reality.

Things were much better in private now. Much better. Sitting on your husband’s lap in the jacuzzi bathtub felt so relaxing, his hands roamed your naked body as he placed chaste kisses all over you. He stopped at your neck to give it more attention, nibbling on a sensitive spot that made you sink right into his form. Moaning softly whilst his hands prance down to your back.

“I want to shield the rest of the world from you, only I get to gawk at my gorgeous wife.” Changbin says possessively, looking at you once he comes up from your neck.

You nod in agreement, “they can look but can’t touch!”

“No, they can’t even look, all of this is mine, mine, mine.” He plants a kiss to your cheek as his hand creeps down to your core. He prods your hole with a single digit, entering you with ease. You let out a soft moan as you part your lips slightly, bucking your hips forward. He pumps his finger into your wetness as he looks deeply into your eyes, nothing but burning desire in his pupils. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs it in a steady motion, your swollen nub feeling overstimulated from his touch.

“This is just the beginning my love, I’m not done with you until the sun comes up.” He whispered in your ear as he drags his tongue against your earlobe. In just the jacuzzi alone, he’s made you cum several times from his fingers. Oh how those magical fingers always do wonders on you..

HYUNJIN. The room was pitch black, your vision completely impaired from the blindfold attached to your head. Your hands were bound to each other, behind your back being tied by a thick rope. You had nowhere to go and the room was pure silence, naked and touch starved, you whine for Hyunjin to do something but you were met with no answer. He was standing over you on the bed but you were unaware of any of your surroundings.

The man finally spoke, “This is what happens when you try and make daddy jealous.”

You can feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation making you crave him even more.

Hyunjin was always the possessive type, was constantly in need of reassurance if he felt his ego was being bruised. This was situation was no different, he needed to remind you that he was the one who owned you.

He brought finger to your perked nipple, gently dragging it across to tease you a bit. A white-hot charge sent through your body as you finally felt his touch. Dripping in a puddle of your own slick from the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, he continues lightly tracing your hardened nipples; eliciting low moans from you.

Your senses were heightened from the way you weren’t able to see anything, any little touch from him making you squeal from shock.

“You like this don’t you?” He says in a condescending tone, he belittles you some more. “So pathetic, look at you. Can’t do anything but take it, so fucking helpless.”

Hyunjin loved seeing how weak you become under him, the power dynamic being completely imbalanced right now. All you could do was moan out for him, practically begging him to do more but you know he’s going to take his time with you.

“Gonna make you squirt all over this bed for me.” He says, “Won’t stop until I have you screaming and begging for mercy, which I will never give you.”

The smirk on his face was devilish, he was conjuring up the perfect plan to ruin you indefinitely.

“Hyunjin, please fuck me… please.” You push your thighs together to feel some friction but Hyunjin gets mad at this action instantly.

He brings a harsh slap to your left tit, making you jump up a bit but your body couldn’t move properly from being tied up. Your legs went back to it’s original position, spread open for him so he can get a glimpse of your dripping cunt.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do, I make the rules now.” He palms your breast and kneads it excessively.

“You are my property.”

HAN. If jealousy was a disease Han would be the first one to catch it. He really loves yet hates the fact that he has such a smoking hot girlfriend that everyone wants. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy dating you but the way some of these other guys would look at you was about to become his villain origin story.

You were so oblivious to anyone who attempted to flirt with you, you only had eyes for your man but it was hard to convince Han otherwise. The pizza delivery guy complimented how pretty you looked and when you handed him the money to pay for the food, you accidentally gave him a ten dollar bill instead of a twenty, he didn’t even care he just smiled and continued talking to you.

That’s when Han knew he had to butt in, he was listening from the couch and he knew he shouldn’t have let you be the one to answer the door. Quickly he comes up to you to wrap his arms behind you, keeping you in a tight hold as the pizza guy looks mortified now.

“You can leave now,” Han says to him in a harsh tone, “We have important business to take care of!”

Slamming the door in his face now, Han comes up from behind you to take the pizza box out of your hands to place it on the table. Soon after, a heavy make out session between you would ensue.

As your naked bodies entangled one another, you feel yourself cinching around his cock from each inch as he slides it in. Your breath instantly coming to a halt as the end of his cock crashed into your cervix. He moves with his ass up in the air as he buries his length deep inside you, the squelching sound of your wet pussy making him see stars.

“Fuck… so fucking tight for me.” Han says sounding pussydrunk off the way you feel around him.

You fall into a frenzy as he pumps his length into you harder, pounding into you like no tomorrow. The bulge of his cock could be seen inside you, moving in and out of you intensely. Grinding your hips to match his pace, you rub your clit to feel more stimulation.

“You’re so fucking hot my God…” He cooed, tiny beads of sweat now forming on the sides of his face. “Your pussy was made for me and me only…”

“Only I can make you feel this good.”

FELIX. He felt sick to his stomach whenever he saw someone else looking at you. The way people would look at you in public when he was with you made him feel beyond disrespected. This is exactly why he doesn’t bring you anywhere because his fragile little ego will be crushed as soon as another person laid their eyes on you. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, he just had to do something about it.

You were at a public park but the park was so big that it was easy to hide and go unseen behind some bushes.

Felix brought you to a secluded area and told you get on your back, you do as he says and he looks at you with the most evil grin on his face.

“I’m going to fuck you so dumb right here, right now.” Felix says in a raspy deep voice, “I will let everyone exactly know who’s bitch you are.”

You gulp once you feel his hands all over you, you wore a black slip dress which drove him absolutely mad.

“Gonna make you pay for getting me worked up like this.” You felt so small when he spoke like this to you, the sticky mess in your panties was only growing as you feel his hands go up your thigh.

“Too stunned to speak sweetheart?” He asks, giving you an alluring yet mischievous smile. You have no idea what this man has for you in store.

“N-no, I can speak-“

“Shut up.” He quickly cuts you off from saying more. “I’m the one talking right now, you sit back and take what I’m going to give you.”

You did exactly as you were told and lay back for him. He quickly unzips his pants and frees his cock from his boxers. You look at the red tip of his angry cock, the sight of his raging erection was enough to make you feel a tingling sensation in your heat. His cock would plunge into you nice and slow but once he bottoms out he’ll quickly pick up his pace, fucking into you menacingly. He brought a hand to your neck and squeezed the shaft of it tightly, you gasp for air as he choked you but it wasn’t unbearable. You close your eyes to the feeling, letting yourself be fully immersed into him. Each thrust he gave you felt like bliss as he roughly held onto your hip, fucking you like a complete maniac.

“Gonna dump all my cum into your slutty little body,” Felix continued,“you’re my fuck toy, only I get to use you.”

SEUNGMIN. Usually something like this would never get to him. However, today was different, very different. Seungmin almost went ballistic when he found out that some guy asked for your number while you were out shopping at the supermarket. He often goes everywhere with you but you were getting off work and went straight to the store to grab some things for dinner. That’s when it happened and you told Seungmin as soon as you got home. You thought he’d just laugh it off but he frowned, disproving of that guy’s actions.

“What a loser,” Seungmin says in an annoyed tone, “when they will learn to just leave you the hell alone?”

He wanted you all to himself, if he could lock you up forever and throw away the key, he probably would. Only letting you out when he tells you you can.

“They can try all they want Minnie but I know I belong to you at the end of the day.” You bring your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him and he kisses you back passionately.

“Want you to say it for me again, who’s pussy does this belong to?” Seungmin was now relentlessly pumping two fingers in you.

“Y-yours Seungmin… yours!” You could barely get a coherent word out of your mouth.

“And who makes you feel the best?”

He wasn’t letting up on making sure you know that you fully belonged to him. “We can do this all day princess… I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”

This was his fifth time edging you at this point, leaving you on the verge of an orgasm but would pull his fingers out once he notices your chest floating up. He’s being so evil to you right now, as if you it was your fault for what had happened in the supermarket.

“You, only y-you! You’re the best at making me feel so good!” You babble as he rapidly moves his fingers in and out of your gaping hole.

“That’s my good little girl, now keep taking my fingers and I’ll reward you soon okay?”

JEONGIN. “You’re such a filthy slut, you know that?” The motion of needy hips were bucking into you. Your head was kept in place, completely still, on your knees and on the verge of tears from your boyfriend’s words.

You knew why you were in this predicament right now. This was all your fault and you did it all for this exact reason.

You wanted to see Jeongin’s reaction to saying you think Felix was hot. You know he wouldn’t take that comment lightly since that was one of his best friends. You wanted to see how far you could test his limits.

“You wanna fuck my friends huh?” He grabs you by the hair and furrows his eyebrows to regain more focus onto you.

You couldn’t speak, all you could do was shake your head around him as he shoved his cock further down your throat.

“Can’t even talk with your mouth full of cock, what a dumb little whore you are.”

His cock hitting the back of your uvula, causing you to make a gagging noise. Streaks of saliva creep from the sides your mouth, the messy scenery underneath him was a heavenly sight indeed. You moan while sucking his cock, the vibrations making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He throws his head back and keeps a tight hold on your hair, gripping you with everything he had. He thrusts his hard length into you viciously, the gurgling noises you were making whilst he fucks your face sounds harmonic to him.

“Shit…think I’m gonna cum soon” he muttered, letting out a groan as he kept pushing your face into his cock. “Yeah… just like that fuck… that’s it.”

A stream of tears came running down your face as you continued. You can feel his veiny cock twitch against your tongue as you felt hot spurts of cum fill you up now. You swallow each and every drop and milk him clean like the good girl you were. Opening your mouth wide to show it was empty he grins viciously and taps his dick against your tongue.

“You’re the biggest fucking slut…” He pants heavily.

“My biggest slut.”

1K notes · View notes

ki-yomii · 1 month

Text

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

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cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh - scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath.

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just - I - I don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fic #bts jungkook

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papurgaatika · 2 months

Text

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything.

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car.

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.”

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.”

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words.

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly.

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel.

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you.

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face.

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms.

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy,

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house.

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway.

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes.

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father.

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that.

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?”

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass.

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face.

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home.

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard.

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed.

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties.

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute.

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me”

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes, “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again.

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties.

“but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway.

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight.

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again.

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?”

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit.

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want.

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face.

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry”

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis.

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much.

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words.

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes.

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair.

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying.

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips.

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #papaya writes <3

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ncteez · 2 months

Text

oh no, he's in love? (k.m.g)

Mingyu knew that sleeping with you was a bad idea, especially when he learns that you’re now dating his son, Chan. He pulls himself back into reality and moves on from the situation, allowing the two of you to end the small fling without suspicion, or rather, he tries. or the one where your re-established crush and now boyfriend, chan, finds out that his dad knows you better than he does.

― part one here!

ao3 | m.list | leave feedback and reblog to give mingyu a boner.

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 15.1k

PAIRING― dilf!mingyu x afab reader | chan x afab reader

CONTENT― angst, there is no daddy kink nor is there sub/dom dynamics involved with this fic, mingyu is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s.

SIDE CHARACTERS― chan as mingyu’s son, jihoon as chan’s ride home when ur mad at him

WARNINGS― borderline cheating, alcohol abuse, morally gray choices need to be made, chan disowns mingyu, reader can be lifted and carried by mingyu.

NOTE― *runs away very very fast, so fast that no one can catch me and make me face the trials of what this fic may have done to some of you* not proofread because hahahaha nope.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags :: pussy drunk mingyu, reader is almost entirely silent through the smut but you’ll get why, pussy devouring, kitchen counter sex, couch sex, missionary, eye contact, making out, finger fucking, cream pie/unprotected sex

You keep running through explanations in your head, more for yourself than anyone else. When you pushed that crush you had on Chan away, it was clearly because you were horny and he wasn’t picking up the hints. The crush never actually died, your interest just skewed to someone who appeared more ready to pleasure you when you needed it the most. The fact that it happened to have been Chan’s dad? Well, we just won’t talk about how that factors into it.

The explanation of an insatiable “horny level” high enough to fuck Mingyu? It manages to calm you down each time you’re actually with Chan. He’s entirely unaware of what happened between you and his father and you’d prefer to keep it that way, which is why you haven’t seen Mingyu in over a month, and why you avoid seeing him any further.

After that first night with Mingyu, you saw him a few times after and continued your little fling with him until Chan made himself more prominent in your life, more so than he already was. He made his feelings clear, he stepped up, he started hanging out with you one on one rather than consistently inviting you to parties with him. It was easy to fall back into your original mindstate about him especially without the alcohol being involved. Wanting to hold his hand, wanting to kiss him, wanting to touch him. He stepped up and asked you to be his girlfriend about a week after you stopped seeing Mingyu all together. You expected to be asked, in all fairness, so it was the right thing to do.

Mingyu never texted you nor did he ever call even before you stopped seeing him, he always just responded. You were thankful for that, despite remembering how you laid with him in his bed the last night you spent with him, wondering if that feeling in your stomach was something deeper than arousal. Small secretive hopes that those small words of “I never want to assume, that’s why I don’t text first.” with an even smaller explanation of “It’s not because I don’t want you.” would become something more.

Still, those budding hopes don’t matter now, as Chan continues to make himself the center of your love life. There is something on your mind that bothers you though. The fact that there could be a future together with Chan and knowing that you can’t avoid Mingyu forever.

God, you’re so right about that issue too, because of course Chan is happily texting you as the semester comes to an end. Of course he’s setting up dinner with his dad and inviting you to meet him properly for the first time.

You: chan, i’ve met your dad a billion times

Chan: yeah but not as my girlfriend!

You: fair but, i’ve already met him lol, i’d rather we just hang out without parents around

Your brain pounds at the idea of pretending you haven’t met Mingyu on levels deeper than you should have. It also pounds at the idea of seeing Mingyu’s reaction to you doing what you’re doing. He must think so lowly of you, to fuck him and still be brave enough to enter into a relationship with his son? You’re sure he already knows you’re dating him, but like, you’d rather not see him see it?

Chan: babe come on, i wanna do coupley things with you! just pretend you’ve never met him, plus he seemed cool with the idea and even said he can make up my old room if we wanted to sleep over.

The pit in your stomach grows at the very idea that you’ve never been in Chan’s old room before, but you’d been in Mingyu’s many times. Enough to remember the creak of the boards just at the base of his bedroom door, enough to know where he hangs his jacket outside of the closet, and which side of his bed he tends to sleep on the most.

Unfortunately, and with a world of reluctance, you know you can’t avoid Mingyu forever. The thought alone that he already knows drives the bubbles in your stomach up to your throat, leaving a bad taste in your mouth as you give in to your boyfriend. Chan, the one you chose, and the one you know you will continue to choose.

You: alright, alright. what should i wear?

Chan: can you wear that one skirt

You: NO

Now, after a long night of overthinking and trying to come up with an excuse to not see Mingyu again, you’re sitting on your bed wearing the exact skirt Chan wants you to wear, waiting for him to pick you up and drive you to the most awkward situation that could ever happen to you.

You’re really hoping he doesn’t opt to sleep there and expect you to be beside him. Something inside tells you that he’d be able to smell the weakness on you, or the nervousness around his father. After all, Chan is more mindful than you gave him credit for originally. Only having learned this through his never-ending string of apologies of never reciprocating your hints previously. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he had said, he just wasn’t sure if he was ready at the time.

That was, until he noted how you kind of backed off. He didn’t want to fumble a girl like you, and so, he leaped further than any man ever had done with you. Mindful, he is. Of himself, of you, hopefully not of anything else though. You’d really rather he not take note of any lingering memories in his childhood home regarding your naked body pressed against whatever surface Mingyu has had you against.

Trying to act like Mingyu hasn’t had you pressed against the washer in the laundry room is harder than you thought it would be. Trying to pretend you haven’t touched him, or kissed him, or made him moan is insanely difficult to do. Those images and sounds were burned into your mind the moment it happened, and even now, when you get intimate with Chan, you find yourself finding the differences between the two. Which is….not good.

For instance, Mingyu is bigger. All around, he loomed and could do absolutely anything he wanted to you, but he was polite and never took advantage of his size or age. He was gentle and kind, even when his deep thrusts hurt. He always kissed you when you winced, always told you to hold onto him, and always thanked you for taking him so well.

Chan, on the other hand is–a good size of course, not as thick or as long as Mingyu, body stature not nearly as big either but, the sex is hot, messy, clumsy even.

He’s cheeky and selfish for his pleasure, but so are you, so the dynamic is something that turns you on beyond belief. Having someone so eager to touch you felt amazing. Chan never quite knew where he wanted his lips, tongue, or fingers first and it always feels so good to let him determine that himself.

The first time you finally had him between your legs, you could argue that he gave you some of the best head you’d ever had. Until you remembered how Mingyu did it. How desperate someone twice your size and age was for you to get on his face, how ready he was to make you feel good even while neglecting himself. Chan doesn’t do that, he likes to hold you down when you squirm, and he certainly doesn’t allow himself to be neglected for too long.

Both of them fuck so differently, and both of them fuck exactly how you want them to. Or, wanted them to, if you’re talking about Mingyu. It’s just, you only know of the love from Chan and the presumed fantasy of what you think Mingyu’s love would feel like.

As you sit here, comfortable and pleased with your current sex life, you can’t help but miss the way you were held by Mingyu. His big arms felt so safe, even when you weren’t in any position to feel unsafe. You can’t compare the two, truly, but you still try. Internally wondering which is better despite already making the choice of being Chan’s girlfriend.

Naturally though, you cannot live your life through sexual hopes and dreams like this when you’ve got Chan right here, giving his all to you. So, you let it rest, even when the thoughts flood your mind.

The memories and thoughts of Mingyu will die as the days pass, right? As you and Chan establish a good foundation, and eventually fall into something more serious than just a mid-college relationship, right? There’s no harm in remembering fondly until that happens, right?

Right, well. You still have to officially meet Mingyu again, so.

Even now, as you’re with Chan and pulling into his father’s driveway, your brain finds itself reverting back to how Mingyu used to open the door for you when you were alone. Always that little smirk, always a tight and warm hug before it immediately turned to minty fresh kisses deepening by the second.

When he opens the door this time, he appears to be nothing but a doting father. One who doesn’t have desperate arousal pressing against his jeans when he looks at you. It’s a reminder that he isn’t opening this door for you alone this time. He’s not inviting you in to put those broad hands on your thighs to spread your legs open for him. No, he’s inviting you in for fucking dinner with your boyfriend. His son.

He doesn’t appear to be bothered though, nor does his eyes linger like they used to. He greets you the same way he greets Chan, only glancing at your hand in his son’s grasp for a moment before offering the two of you a smile.

“It’s about time I got to officially meet her.” Mingyu calls out with a chipper tone, reaching his hand out to you for a hand shake. “Now that you’re seeing me at a decent time, without dragging my insane child to the couch to sleep off his bad decisions, I’m the actual Mingyu.”

You reluctantly reach for his hand to shake it, the warmth of them no longer there from when he used to hold your hips or caress your cheek. They’re cold this time, but his smile is warm. You avoid eye contact, mostly looking straight past him rather than choosing to try and read his features.

“It’s kind of weird seeing you when the sun is out, Mr. Kim,” You comment, feeling a little bit shy about all of this despite how bold you normally are. “Kind of nice that we are all here to meet without Chan dry heaving against me.”

Mingyu pauses at the name you just called him, accepting it and dipping his head politely at you with a soft and accepting smile.

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Chan laughs, squeezing your hand in his and dragging you inside, forcing you to brush only slightly by Mingyu, who steps back to give you the space.

On one hand, that comment meant more than you meant it to, but it was also the truth. For one, you should never be calling your boyfriend’s dad by his actual name, and two, even if you never got to experience getting into Mingyu’s bed, still you’d have only met him in the middle of the night after wild college parties. Even those days when you slept over and went home the next morning, the sun was out but it didn’t change the fact that most of your waking hours with Mingyu were spent when the city was blanketed by night.

The atmosphere feels so awkward in these circumstances and the worst part is that they’re not supposed to. If you had just kept your hands to yourself, if Mingyu was just….not so fucking hot. Even now, as you avoid eye contact with him, you watch the way he steps around the kitchen with confidence as he prepares the last of the dinner. You watch the way his shirt squeezes his biceps and the way his fingers hold a bowl.

You are stupid to have come here so soon.

Unintentionally you rub your legs together as you watch him, as if your body will react regardless of what your heart tells you to do. Chan is off to the side moving his hand from the table and to your thigh, completely unaware that the movements from you are from unwanted arousal and not nervousness.

“What’re you being so shy for?” Chan whispers, squeezing your thigh with care, dipping his head down to make eye contact with you. “Like you said, you’ve already met him before.”

He has no idea that the simple touch to your thigh is driving you insane right now, and you can’t even react to it the way you want to because you wouldn’t know if you’d moan the wrong name if you end up being intimate with Chan here. It feels insanely overwhelming just sitting here at the dinner table and the worst part is that it absolutely should not be like this. As if that’s not already well established in your head,

“I know, but it’s weird pretending like it’s my first time meeting him.” You whisper back, trying to relax your body and keep your eyes on Chan.

You can’t help but feel like he can see straight through you, despite knowing there is absolutely no way in hell he could.

“It’ll feel better, don’t worry. I know you’ve only talked to him a few times, but he’s pretty down to earth.”

Chan really thinks you’ve only met Mingyu in passing when dropping him off. God, the guilt is overwhelming as you lean into him, dropping your head on his shoulder and sighing. You can’t even tell if this looks dramatic or awkward, but thankfully, Mingyu appears to be avoiding your eye much like you are for him.

When dinner is ready and the three of you are sitting together and eating, it does somehow get easier. The way Mingyu plays it off, the way he carries the conversation, the way he says he’s proud of Chan for finding such a nice girl, all of it makes you feel as though he’s decided to move forward. Like he’s genuinely okay with this, like he’s moved on and you were just a notch in his bedpost.

Which, it’s true, but you can admit that you feel uneasy with the way he no longer looks at you the way he once did.

Which is good, for him at least. You think you’ve moved on too, at least in a logical sense, but you can’t help but feel a little stab in your heart each time Mingyu acts in support of this relationship. Not that you wanted him to fight for you, or to be mad, it’s just that you really thought that maybe the two of you had a little fire starting together. Given, you’re the reason that was snuffed out, who are you to feel even the slightest bit upset that he’s being a supportive father?

After all, above all, he is the father of your boyfriend, and not just that notch in your bedpost. You have to co-exist with him for as long as you and Chan are together, it’s better that it’s this way.

There’s a relief in the way Mingyu appears to truly not mind. He still looks at you softly when your eyes do meet, but they’re not guilty or apologetic. This is how it’s supposed to be, it’s how it was always supposed to be.

“So, are you guys sleeping over?” Mingyu asks, grabbing his glass and taking a sip to wash down a bite of his food before looking between the two of you. “Chan, I made up your bedroom and hooked up one of the gaming systems.”

Chan nods with a fond smile before looking at you and tilting his head in question.

“Are you good to sleep over?” He asks you, hand going back to your thigh under the table and giving you another comforting squeeze.

You don’t want to, but Chan is still obnoxiously bad at picking up hints, so when you shrug he smiles and nods.

“Sounds good,” He smiles, looking back at his dad and taking another bite of his food. “This is nice.”

Mingyu hums in response.

“Yeah, it’s about time you brought someone home to meet me, I was starting to think you thought I was lame or something.”

Chan laughs, tipping his chair a bit as he pulls his hand from your thigh and slouches like the college boy he is.

“You are lame,” Chan jokes in a chuckle. “But really, dad, I just didn’t click with anyone until now.”

Mingyu pauses and then gives Chan another smile and a nod.

“That’s really good to hear.” He compliments, standing to his feet to take his dishes to the sink.

You try not to be too touchy with Chan while you’re here. You’re too hyper aware of what it feels like to be touched in this house and what it does to your mind. Unfortunately, Chan is the perfect type of boyfriend you would have yearned for before all of this happened.

He’s touchy, he’s clingy, he’s needy. Honestly, he’s all over you after dinner. On the couch he used to drunkenly sleep on, his hand is planted to your thigh, drawing little hearts with his fingertips. His lips are constantly in search of yours when Mingyu sees himself out of the room, usually to grab a drink or to go to the bathroom.

It’s not that you pull away, but you kind of do. He seems understanding enough, knowing that you likely just feel awkward being all touchy in his dad’s house.

“He’s not even in here,” Chan prods gently, kissing against your neck. “And you look so good today.”

You both love and hate how into you he can be. It’s something you think you’ll give in to time and time again, but still, you feel like you’re morally at a wall when he does it here.

Even by the time the two of you make your way to Chan’s old room, you find yourself staring at the door Mingyu has closed behind you several times. His door. You know the layout of his bedroom like the back of your hand, every creak of his floor, every pattern on his window curtains.

The guilt stays with you the entire time you’re here, and you really just can’t wait to leave. It feels like you’re a prisoner of your own fucking brain at this point, and honestly? You want to go to sleep and not spend another waking moment with your fucking boyfriend within these walls, ever. It’s too overwhelming, too awkward, and in all honesty, kind of painful with the way Mingyu seems entirely unbothered.

You’re trying to be unbothered too, even as Chan lays you down in his old bed and crawls on top of you.

“If we’re quiet...” He starts, trying to lean down to kiss you, trying to love you the way you usually like it. But he’s quick to take note of your body language, with the way you almost curl in on yourself as he makes his attempt.

“Hey,” He soothes, rolling off of you and clinging to your side. “It’s okay.” He continues, whispering to you and peppering little kisses against your shoulder. “We don’t have to.”

You nod quietly, turning to face him and looking at him.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You say, trying to make him feel less bad about it. “I just don’t think I can physically get turned on in your dad’s house.”

A lie.

He chuckles at you with a nod.

“Would you rather not sleep here tonight?” He asks, like, genuinely asks in a way to try and make things more comfortable.

You nod, feeling a bit bad and like you’re making a big deal about it, even though to him, you’re not.

“Come on, we can go back to your place.” He says, both of you still very much awake and not entirely ready for bed anyway.

“Won’t he wonder why we’re leaving?” You ask, tilting your head. “I mean, he made up your room and everything.” You nod your head to the gaming system sitting untouched, ready for use.

“Nah, he’s just nice like that. He won’t mind.”

And, well, Mingyu really didn’t seem to care. Which, arguably, makes you feel stupid for being worried about it at all.

In fact, he barely gave either of you a nod when Chan opened the familiar bedroom door to say goodbye for the night. Both of you waving politely to him with no excuse or reason as to why you’re not staying.

You’re aware that Mingyu knows why though. Which is probably why he didn’t offer an ounce of care or confusion when the two of you inevitably stood at his door to tell him.

At the end of the day? This visit was tortuous only because you made it so. In your head, it’s hard to pretend. Fortunately though, Mingyu seems to have no fucking problem forgetting that you’ve ever spent a single moment alone with him.

You try not to hurt over it.

Chan has this effect over you where as long as the two of you are together, he calms you to the point that you almost forget about Mingyu entirely. That is, of course, until you’re actually face to face with Mingyu himself and you have no other choice but to recognize the choices you’ve made.

Thankfully, there isn’t much of a reason to be around him despite being in a committed relationship with his son, and that only gives you more of a reason to fall back into a comfortable mind state the second you’re out of that all too familiar childhood home of your boyfriend.

Every single time, without fail and completely without intention, Chan manages to remind you with every kiss and touch that you’re where you’re supposed to be. With him, beside him, under him, just…anywhere with him. It feels so right when your brain isn’t running a mile a minute over the hidden secrets within yourself.

You can genuinely say that Chan makes you happy. You can even say that you’ve never been happier in a relationship with another person. Never more comfortable, never more safe. So, when the two of you are invited to a semester-end party over at Jihoon’s place just a week later, it’s natural that both of you jump for the opportunity.

After all, it’s been a while since you last attended a party at all, and Chan has since calmed down as well once the two of you got exclusive. It’s nice, really, without the alcohol flowing and heightened emotions.

Every conversation from before, up to Chan asking you to be his girlfriend was sobering and pleasant. If anything, having a couple of drinks now that the two of you are falling into a routine together would be a nice change of pace for the night.

The two of you deserve this relaxation together anyway, for sure you do. After how you felt dealing with Mingyu face to face, after a rough semester, after fucking passing your exams, fuck yes you’re going to go to this party and let loose with a boyfriend you’re growing to love so dearly.

You can tell Chan is excited too by the glint in his eye and that fond smile as he watches you get dressed and ready beside him.

“I won’t drink much so we can go back to my place and cuddle up later?” is what he whispered to you as you pinned your hair out of your face. You were happy to hear him take responsibility for what used to be a somewhat of a drinking problem.

Unfortunately, his promise of not drinking much became more and more empty as the night went on.

For the first hour, he seemed to stick to his words. Sipping on one single drink up until the end of the hour and he goes for another. Then another, and another, up until he goes off for “one more” only to be lost in the crowd of people wandering around jihoon’s frat house.

You stand in wait, swaying to the beat with a mere drink and a half sloshing around in your belly as you think to yourself. It’s okay. He’s just letting loose for the first time in weeks and you don’t want to seem like a pushy girlfriend or a mood kill during the middle of a party that you both very much deserve to attend.

You and Chan being in the relationship doesn’t mean neither of you get the freedom to have fun and get absolutely plastered, even if there was a slight promise of doing no such thing. You want him to have fun after the stressful semester. Especially considering how you had to practically force him to study just so he could get his GPA up.

You want him to not feel guilty for drinking a little too much like he’s done so many times before. If anything, you need to be the supportive girlfriend, letting him lean on you and leave slobbery, wet kisses down your jaw through drunken slurs of love and adoration towards you.

Are you a bit disappointed? Yes, of course you are. But you also don’t mind going with the flow, so flow you do. Back and forth through the rooms, mingling with Jihoon, Joshua, that one guy, and that other girl. You’re having a great time chatting it up with relaxed and giggly friends, feeling like maybe you could even use another drink or two, up until– oh.

Chan. Right there against the back door with some pretty drunken girl petting on his arm. Giggling, dipping her face, all while he says something to her with the same snicker and smirk he typically gives to you during a date or just before an intimate moment with you.

Suddenly, you remember when you let that fleeting crush on him dwindle as time passed. Sure, partially it was because of Mingyu but there was still another side to it. This side of Chan. When he’s drunk and entirely out of his mind around pretty girls and strong beverages. Always so single looking, always so flirty, never picking up hints.

He never picked up the hint that you liked him, and while he explained that away to you, watching him now makes you feel like all of those words were just to save face. He didn’t pick up the hints then, and he certainly isn’t picking up the hints now as your face falls to that of a frustrated glare. The girl notices, raises her brow at you, and then looks back at your boyfriend.

Chan barely glances at you but when he does, it’s almost like you didn’t come here with him at all. It’s almost like neither of you ever even started dating in the first place.

Is this all it takes? A couple of drinks and one pretty girl for him to lose all interest in you? What about you though? Is this all it takes for you to completely lose all interest?

You’re the only one with a right to lose interest, arguably.

Considering the way Chan looks at her, the way his hands reach for her.

There, a girl who isn't you, to be specific. He practically ignores any hint of discomfort from you while simultaneously allowing this girl to cling all over him, run her fingers through his hair, and even so much as sipping from his drink. She glances at you again.

She fucking smirks at you.

You’re dumbfounded, appalled, and overwhelmed with rage within an instant as you stand and watch. Each person who steps in front of you or between you and your boyfriend appear to be entirely invisible as you watch, because you can’t recall a single second where you weren’t seeing the two of them up against that fucking door clear as day.

It’s like he’s reverted back to every doubt you ever had about him, that safety you had started growing accustomed to being ripped out from under you by some woman who you’re sure he hasn’t even caught the name of yet.

Does it hurt? Tremendously for the amount of time you’ve been with him. A few weeks shouldn’t hurt this badly to lose.

And it’s not hard, really, to take what’s yours, or rather to throw away what’s supposed to be yours. It never really has been when it comes down to situations that force you to act on instinct. After all, Chan was the one who got serious with you. He’s the one who asked you to be exclusive. He’s the one who finally jumped in after you’d been dipping your toes in to encourage him for ages.

And now, he’s going to fucking explain himself. You deserve to know why your boyfriend of just over a month and a half, who was previously your best fucking friend, manages to grow bored with you within the blink of an eye. If Chan can’t handle being in a relationship while alcohol is involved, he’s going to have a big decision to make. Right here.

Right now.

You make your way towards them, all while glaring at the woman with her hands in your boyfriend’s hair as she makes her pathetic attempts to dance sexy against him. Chan, on the other hand, is so fucking dazed and in his own world that you can argue you don’t know this man at all.

“Chan.” That’s all you say to have him raising a brow, looking at you as if you’re interrupting something.

“What’s up babe?” He responds nonchalantly, smiling at you and leaning into the girl.

You pause, taking a breath as you stare them both down with a grimace.

“Can you leave?” You demand more than ask towards the girl, and she scoffs only for a moment before Chan takes it upon himself to shrug her off of him and shake her away.

You watch as she rolls her eyes and walks away, and never in your life have you wanted to slap another woman so badly. The worst part is that it isn’t even her fault that this is happening. Chan clearly didn’t tell her that he, you know, has a fucking girlfriend.

“What the fuck was that?” You dead pan, staring straight at Chan and forcing him out of a state of bliss with your tone.

“Babe, babe. Relax.” He slurs, smiling and chuckling throughout the words. “Just having fun!”

You stare at him dumbfounded. Offended. Fucking appalled yet again.

“Are you joking?” You roll your eyes much like the woman did, crossing your arms and fidgeting on your feet. “If I’d known that you would suddenly become single from getting shitfaced then maybe we wouldn’t have come to the party at all.”

“Oh, so now you want to control me?” Chan shoots back in another slur of words. “First you force me to study, now you’re trying to make me stop having fun? Such a fucking buzz-kill.”

You sigh, unsure as to why you thought he wouldn’t be so stubborn. Then again, you know drunk Chan better than you do the sober one.

“I really thought that once we started dating, you’d be more mindful of this. Of us.” You nearly plead now, reaching for his cup only to watch him pull it out of your reach like a child. “You need to stop drinking.”

Chan just stares at you now. You watch him try to adjust his eyes forward, and already you’re aware that he’s seeing two of you. His expression gives you nothing more than a feeling of disgust, knowing well enough that drunk words are more truthful than the sober ones.

“Chan, you’re cheating on me already.” You try to explain the gravity of the situation again.

“I’m not cheating. I told you, I was just having some fun.” He explains away with a dopey smile, moving his weight to his other leg and blatantly stumbling over nothing as he sways himself back into a shitty-show of drunken balance.

“Yes, because it’s fun to have another woman’s hands all over you when I’m literally right fucking here?”

Only now are you actually shocked by his response.

All he does is shrug at you with that same smile. One you’d normally want to kiss right off of his face because it’s so cute and endearing.

But no. Instead, you feel disgust. No hurt, no pain, just…you feel gross. Embarrassed, even.

“This is childish. We’ve barely been dating over a month.” You state as a fact, uncaring if he can process the words at all. “I’m not doing this. We’re done. Have Jihoon take you back to your place.”

And before he can even fathom saying something back to you, you leave.

It’s a very bad feeling to walk into a party arm in arm with someone you imagine being with for a long time, and then walking out of that same party not three hours later alone, and seemingly broken up.

You meant what you said though, even if you could practically see your words go through one of his ears and out the other. It’s too early in the relationship to be dealing with that. Arguably, there should never be a time in a relationship actually, where you have to practically force someone out of your boyfriend’s too-welcoming grasp.

Ah, it’s shameful really. Given that you did your best to be a good girlfriend to him despite what happened with his dad, yet he couldn’t even offer you the decency of at least pretending to love you while drunk?

You really didn’t pay much mind to his drinking until now. You knew he was a bit of a mess before but most college kids are, you thought. Seeing it first hand and how it can impact your relationship though? Yeah, Chan has a drinking problem and it’s one you’re not willing to work through with him.

Partially because you’re hurt by what he’s doing and partially because the guilt of everything that happened before you started dating stresses you the fuck out.

Maybe it’s better that you keep your distance from not only Mingyu, but Chan too.

And you know, that sounds like such a great idea. You could start over, you could find someone new and slowly get to know them before eventually falling in love, getting married, so on and so forth.

And as you simmer over the frustration, too, too sober, you jump into your car and start driving. Where? You’re not sure. The path you’re going doesn’t lead to home at all, but you continue nonetheless. Paying too-close attention to each stop sign and red light, until–

Well.

Is it really so shocking to find yourself here of all places?

It’s a quick trip up the steps and the knocks you lend the door are even quicker.

There’s so much resentment inside of you at this moment when none other than Mingyu creaks the front door open. His son just fucked you over, his son was supposed to be a good boyfriend, his son just threw you away for some girl at a fucking frat party and you want to know why.

Sure, you should be standing in front of Chan right now to get the answers, but you’re not. You’re here. You’re fucking here, on Mingyu’s front porch, glaring at him much like you’d be glaring at his son.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is shocked to see you at his door by yourself. He reluctantly lets you inside without a word spoken. He sees the expression on your face and can’t help but feel the anxiety in his gut bubble up to his throat.

There’s tension in the air as he looks at your eyes, noting that they appear to be a bit raw.

“What happened?” Mingyu asks, standing by the door with a look of concern as you make your way to his kitchen as if you have the right. “Where’s Chan?” He adds in a voice with even more concern.

To you, as you sigh and look at him when he makes his way into the kitchen behind you, all you can see is that same protective father from the night you and Chan almost slept over.

“I broke up with him.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how glassy and wet they feel.

No, you won’t cry over this.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He tilts his head with question, and you know he has more to say about it but you don’t really care to indulge him right now.

“Did you raise him to be that way?” You ask, looking down and feeling frustrated. “To get bored of a relationship after a few weeks?”

Part of you knows these words include double edged swords. Who else would Chan have learned this from, anyway? With Mingyu and his all-too-caring hands acting like there’s a fucking spark somewhere in the room when you’re with him to Chan doing the exact same thing only to have both of them act as if you moving on isn’t a bother?

“I most certainly did not teach him that.” Mingyu defends himself with a huskier tone than he’s ever used with you before. “What did he do?”

“This girl was all over him tonight and when I split it up he got annoyed with me over it.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you plop down on a bar stool. “Practically told me I was trying to control him, so I broke up with him.”

“Ah,” Mingyu nods, leaning against the counter. “He must have been drinking. I did tell him he needed to slow down on it, but he doesn’t exactly listen to me.”

“He doesn’t listen to fucking anyone.” You throw your arms up, eyes threatening to tear up against your will.

Not because you’re sad, but for so many reasons aside from that. One, you just broke up with Chan. Two, you ran to fucking Mingyu over it? Three, you miss Mingyu and that’s the obvious reason as to why you’re here but that doesn’t make it right. And, well, four, the fact that he didn’t immediately smile and kiss you upon learning you’re single again is beyond frustrating.

Mingyu really did move on.

He really did let you cut it off.

There’s a long moment of silence before you hear Mingyu sigh and look at you, studying your face with a tense jaw.

“Well,” He starts, “Is there a reason you came here over this? I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You’re not sure why those words shock you, but they do. In reality, from outside of yourself anyway, you can see how strange it must be that you came running to snitch on Chan. What’s worse is that Mingyu probably thinks you have some sort of ulterior motive behind being here.

Which, yeah, maybe you did. In your rush of frustrations even you didn’t understand why you ended up here over this. Maybe part of you did want the comfort from him. Maybe you do want him to side with you, and hug you close despite being the one who broke it off.

Still, Chan did fuck up.

What part of your breakup should lend you the opportunity to come running back here though? You ghosted Mingyu to date his son. What gives you the right to be sitting in his kitchen right now? What do you expect him to say about all of this?

“Oh, I’m so sorry babe, let me make it better.” or “I knew he couldn’t treat you the way I can.”

Ah, fantasies. All of them are fantasies. As much as you’d love for Mingyu to say these things to you, realistically, he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

And somehow, knowing that and realizing it hurts a little more than breaking up with Chan. It’s proof that Mingyu lost interest in you too. Hell, you’re sure he lost interest the second he learned of you dating Chan. Given that he was suspiciously supportive of it, and that he even seemed happy about it?

Perhaps he was just happy that whatever you and him had going on was over. Maybe he was relieved that he didn’t have to ghost you himself.

Maybe you were stupid to involve yourself in any of this. Stupid to so boldly seduce Mingyu, stupid to willingly jump into a relationship with Chan, stupid to somehow believe that Mingyu would care at all about the situation as a whole.

You guess the two really are alike, and that Mingyu did raise Chan to be cold and uncaring when the mood strikes him.

“I guess you’re right.” You sigh, sniffling once and wiping your face before shooting up and onto your feet. “I really shouldn’t have come here.” You avoid his eye contact, feeling too many emotions to be willingly seen right now. “and I think I should go home.”

He looks at you, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, that would be best.”

Stupid. You feel so fucking stupid.

And as Mingyu watches you turn away from him, he can hear your sniffles. The way your shoulders tense to try and hide that you’re feeling embarrassed and utterly pathetic, he tries not to give in to that emotion.

Yeah, you guys had sex. He knew it was wrong, but even so, he would still feel a pull in his chest to find his son’s girlfriend crying in his kitchen over something that happened. Whether he slept with you or not, it’s only human to want to comfort someone.

But he can’t. Given the circumstances, if Mingyu so much as closes distance, he fears that you’ll see it as an invitation. Or perhaps, he will treat it as one himself. Now isn’t the time, and never should it have been time to invite you into his bed the way he did previously.

He needs to be careful in this situation, regardless of how his heart pulls.

Never did he want to see you hurting internally like this.

And so, he tries to leave it alone. He tries to block out the sound of your shuffled footsteps walking away from him, and even harder does he try to block out those silenced sniffles from you.

You feel so out of it as you make your way to the door. How you got into this situation isn’t too difficult to understand though. It was so easy to fall into it, and goddamn did it feel good at first. Now though? Ah, it hurts.

Sure, you liked a guy and he turned out to be an asshole. That’s something that has and will happen to you time and time again, but you guess the whole fucking his dad thing makes it a lot worse in your head.

Even so, you don’t know why you thought you could come to Mingyu for comfort. Like he’d wisp you off your feet and throw his own child under the bus. Your ego needed a check, and goddamn did both of these guys give it to you.

That’s his son and you’re just…a girl.

To think you’re really alluring enough to keep Chan from straying his eye…to think you’re enough to get Mingyu to side with you and touch you again?

So fucking stupid.

And god, this walk to Mingyu’s front door feels damning. You swear hours pass with each step but you’re sure it’s only been a few seconds.

You realize that when you step past that front door, it’ll be the last time you’ll ever be in this house. The last time you’ll ever feel the gravel of this driveway under your tires, the last time Mingyu will ever see you walk away from him.

It wells up inside you when you reach for the doorknob, unable to wait much longer to just move on from all of this. You want to lock it all behind this front door, instead of living with it yourself, forcing Mingyu to do it instead.

Then, in a sudden twist of fate, you feel your body shiver at a rush of cold air behind you followed by warm arms wrapping you up entirely.

You feel as if the breath is knocked out of you at the feeling, that cold door knob in your palm radiating with heat now as your hand is pulled away from it. You’re pulled from the door entirely, actually, and a rush of emotions hits you when you feel Mingyu’s broad chest against your back.

You can’t help it.

The tears on your cheeks are more from frustration than sadness, and you’re quick to try and wipe the arms that the tears fall against, but he still just holds you there. Strong arms forcing you into a reality that felt so far out of reach just moments before, forcing those warm tears to continue falling out of disbelief now, rather than frustration.

You’d love to believe that this is just your mind playing tricks on you. Knowing you came here just to see if Mingyu would let you waste another night without Chan and with him. Running on emotions, really. It’s a trait you should probably work on, but really. You do wish it wasn’t real. That these arms around you really are just phantom weight that your heart is conjuring up.

That the chin dropping to your left shoulder isn’t a man that’s been violating your thoughts time and time again.

That this isn’t exactly what you want.

“Don’t hate me.” Mingyu whispers against his better judgment. He can’t help it though, the need to think of himself upon watching you touch that fucking doorknob hit him harder than anything else could have just moments ago.

He never wanted to be in competition with his son, but fuck. He wants to at this point. He knows he can be what you need and he wants to be what you need so badly. Does he understand why? Of course he doesn’t. Something about this is so wrong and he knows exactly why it’s wrong. Does it stop him though?

It almost did.

“I don’t want you to leave here hating me.” He continues.

The whisper against your neck feels so warming, sending goosebumps all over your body but you try to stay where you are. Even with your knees buckling under you, even when he holds you up and tighter against him.

It’s the first time in several weeks since you’ve felt these arms around you. And fuck, you thought you’d be able to get over how they feel, you really thought that this heavy and overwhelmingly gentle grip would be a thing of the past. After all, it’s all you needed it to be, but here you are, feeling heartbroken over the fact that you kept yourself from this for far too long already.

You feel butterflies in your stomach flutter up to your throat, swallowing around a pathetic whimper of emotional release.

“Just stay the night.” Mingyu adds after hearing your whimper, somehow holding you impossibly closer.

You stand frozen, listening to his words and wondering if this is real. You feel too warm to pretend it’s not happening though, and it takes a moment to work up the courage to turn in his grasp.

You almost forgot what it felt like to not be teased or played with. Chan really was so playful with you, to the point that it almost felt cruel at times. Mingyu though, the way he steps back and gives you the space to simply look at him? Gives you the time and space to contemplate the situation and decide whether or not you want to navigate it at all?

At this moment, looking at him and his apologetic stare, seemingly feeling sorry that you’re going through what you’re going through while simulationaly wanting you, you can’t help but let the feelings for Chan die once and for all.

If you’re really about to do this with Mingyu, you can’t do the back-and-forth again. You have to choose, and the choice is so fucking obvious.

Arguably, it’s always been obvious.

And as you keep eye contact with Mingyu, you can see something in his head break. That softened look in his eye turning to something….unabashedly crazed. As if to tell you to take the reins before he does it himself. It serves as a pleasant reminder that you’re not the only one weak when it comes to being alone together.

You’re not the only one with guilt, temptation, and lack-of-care for morals when the two of you are together.

You’re not alone in this.

Mingyu is falling just as quickly as you are.

Tumbling, spinning, fucking rolling in the idea that this doesn’t have to end.

Honestly, with the matching gaze, Mingyu almost wishes you would walk away from this. From him. He almost wishes you could be smarter than he is in this situation. Wishes you were stronger than him and stronger than this.

But he’s thankful that you’re not, because having the ability to watch you blink up at him like this again is flooring. In fact, he’s spent countless nights trying to push this very image out of his head due to respect for his son.

Where is that respect now?

Nowhere within him, and god is he thankful for it. Why should he have respect for a relationship that’s no longer there? Why should he continue to deny, deny, deny?

He’s not in denial anymore, not with those pretty eyes looking at him like this. Not with those lips parting for each hopeful breath. Not with those hands gripping onto him for dear life, hoping for nothing more than a hug but knowing there’s so much more behind said hug.

God, he’s melting again. For you, he’s fucking melting.

“You need to tell me to stop, right now,” He says in a hopeless whisper, as if someone else can hear him. “Because I’m tired of pretending I have self control around you.”

And you react to those words with another pretty blink and a short shake to your head. Solidifying that he isn’t alone in the need, that he isn’t insane to want this, that he isn’t hated by you.

It doesn’t take much, really, for him to take a step backwards. He can feel you walk with him, so he continues, walking back, back, back. Your body instinctively follows him, and you think you would follow him to the ends of the earth if you could.

Back. Back. Back. Until the two of you are in the kitchen again, and his back hits the kitchen counter, sending a roll of paper towels to topple over and fall onto the floor. Neither of you pay attention to it, and instead hold each other in wait.

When he drops his hands slightly, loosening his grip around your waist, he breathes out once before licking his bottom lip and fixing his gaze on your lips.

To think either of you have self control at this moment is insane. He knows it, you know it, and god fucking damn, the entire universe would know it if they could so much as feel the electricity in this room.

A single blink more up at him leaves him nearly breathless. No more waiting, no more offering space for if you want to pull away. No more outs. He swoops down and lands his lips on yours like he never stopped before. Like it’s natural, like this is where his lips are supposed to be.

And all he can think of at this moment is hoping you never tell him to stop. Hoping that you’re both lost in this situation enough to experience something together just once more, if that’s all it can be. Even if this is all the two of you can be, he wants it. For as long as he can have it, he fucking wants it.

You feel that want through his harsh kisses. Like he’s trying to swallow you up, so intimate with it, so into it. Pouring his whole soul into the way he moves his tongue against yours, the experience behind the way he breathes as he kisses is just as flooring as it always has been. Even now, you don’t compare it to the way Chan kissed you. Mingyu became the standard for everything in your head before, and it was silly for you to ever think someone else could take over that role. There is no comparing Mingyu to anyone else.

Silly, silly fucking thoughts. Logical thinking be damned, Mingyu was the logical choice all along. Morality bringing him down to a fucking notch in your bedpost? An insult. There’s something here, and to ever think that the two of you “just fucked” is so demeaning and belittling.

You knew there was something there. And now, he’s proving it after spending too much time pretending that he couldn’t.

You feel him move you, pushing forward, deepening the kiss and still managing to spin both of you around so that he’s pinning you against the counter now.

“Missed the way you held onto me,” he says breathlessly, lifting your leg and holding it against his waist. “Missed the way you look at me.” He adds, more mindlessly than he has ever been, seemingly lost in the moment with you. “The way you just came into my bedroom and– fuck, i think about it so much.”

No words have ever hit your heart so hard before. As if all this time he was pretending to be okay with your relationship. As if he did care, probably too much.

As if he truly did miss you.

And he proves it with every breath, grasp, kiss, and movement. It’s like he doesn’t have enough time in the world actually, to have you up against him like this. He almost rushes himself with it, pressing you more against the counter than against himself now.

It only takes a few seconds for him to hoist you up on the counter and shrink down himself. Now he’s the one blinking up at you with fond concern on his face, fingers tugging at your shorts to imply he needs them fucking gone ten minutes ago.

Your breath hitches for what you think could be the millionth time since you got here, but you lend him a little lift to get your shorts and panties off in one go.

“Ahh,” He coos after tossing your clothing to the side mindlessly, both hands gripping your legs and spreading them wide as he stands back up to his full height and fits himself against you again. “Still so pretty,” He continues his string of compliments to you, dipping his head down just to get another taste of your lips on him.

His mind is entirely unsure of what to do first now that your bottoms are off, really. He’s spinning for you, and his hands search and grip all over you at the very idea that you’re propped up on his kitchen counter right now.

The same counter he used to cook dinner for you and his son.

Like a fucking dream.

And you can feel how hard he is when he presses against you more and more. His kiss so deep, his hips against you and reminding you of everything he’s made you feel before. Already you feel like you’re flying, but you know better than anyone that he has all the ability in the world to make you feel as if you’re fucking soaring.

“Mingyu–” You choke out between kisses, trying to get a word in. “Let me.”

And just like the first time he ever felt your hands on him, he feels the way your palm slides down and cups his length to its best ability. His eyes go blank, the feeling so familiar and good to him that all he can do is throw his head back with a breathy chuckle.

“Fuck, missed you.” He states as if it’s final, pressing his hips more and more against your palm as he dips right back down to kiss you even harder than before. “You have no idea.”

And then it’s like a spiral of messy, wet kisses, and his hips going from needy thrusts against your weak hand to suddenly having your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he sinks down and just…

“God,” You gasp at the first feeling of his warm tongue. “Mingyu…”

He’s not tasting, he’s devouring.

And he doesn’t respond, instead, he flutters his eyes shut and breathes deeply through his nose so that he never needs to pull his tongue out of you again.

It’s like he can’t get enough of it. Never has he missed the taste of a woman on him like this, so wet and pretty when he’s licking. More and more dripping out of you just for him to swallow up and daydream about later.

His tongue has a mind of its own at this moment when he flicks and sucks every part of you he can reach. Your clit only abandoned momentarily so he can lick deep into you before trailing back up with a deep and heavenly sigh of relief.

His hands remain at your thighs, gripping you so tightly that you can tell he’s afraid you may dissolve in front of him. That all of this is just some wet dream that he’ll wake up from just before his own release.

But no, you’re here. In the flesh, feeling this grip and feeling that feverish tongue greedily eat you from the inside out. Both of you are seemingly overwhelmed with the fact that it’s happening again. Or rather, finally you’re together again.

And you can’t help it when your fingers find purchase in his hair, moaning out and echoing his name against his kitchen walls. He moans alongside you, feeling those gentle fingers scratch against his scalp in such a sweet and pleasurable way.

If he could show you how much he needs this, he would. But this is all he can do for you to prove it, and he hopes that it’s enough.

It isn’t long before he’s losing composure, flicking his tongue so fast against your clit that you can’t help but overpower his grip and close your legs around his head. He chuckles against your clit at that, keeping up with the assault of his tongue, listening to the way you pant above him, feeling you pull his hair, all while your legs unintentionally choke him out.

Fuck, it’s too good. You’re too good.

So, he continues and laps away like his life depends on it up until you practically lift from the counter, using your legs around his shoulders as your only form of balance when you press so hard against his tongue that all he can do is press back.

He has no breath at this moment, sucking your clit so hard into his mouth that his cock, quite literally, nearly explodes in his pants right then and there at the sheer desperation you share with him at this moment.

And then your legs instantly loosen and you fall limp against the counter, your cum pouring out of you with each clench and shake of your body. It takes everything in him to pull his tongue away, but fuck, he needs to swallow those pretty, whined little sounds you’re giving to him.

Quickly, he slides two fingers into you, fucking them in hard just to feel the clench of you through your orgasm, and his lips are immediately sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your mouth is slack as he tastes each sound, out of breath himself as he tries to lend all of his power behind his fingers, pulling more sounds from you before sinking them in one last time and leaving them there as he kisses the last of your orgasm out of you.

“Shh,” He shushes you when he uses his other arm to pull you closer to him, which only forces his fingers deeper into you. “Baby, shh.” He continues to soothe you through it, still kissing, still feeling your slick gush around his fingers. “You’re shaking.”

That little chuckle he lets out when he says those words brings you back to reality, the body-shocks of your orgasm finally subsiding just to tune in to the lack of guilt he feels. In fact, he seems proud.

And he fucking should feel proud.

“Fuck,” You breathe against his lips, wiggling your hips and only then feeling embarrassed by the pool of wet you’re sitting in. “Mingyu, fuck.”

He finally pulls back, keeping his fingers in you still, and tilts his head at you.

“Mm,” He hums, nodding to himself. “Did you forget?”

You blink at him in a daze, clenching his fingers unintentionally and wincing at the jolt of pleasure the pads of his fingers offer to your g-spot. You find yourself shaking your head, despite not knowing what the fuck either of you are saying right now.

“Forget how much I love using my mouth on you?” He whispers it in such a filthy and deep whisper that almost instantly you’re clenching your legs around his hand. And he only chuckles again.

“Come here–” He says this time, pulling you from the counter and quickly holding you up on shaky legs. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.”

Ah, memories rush to your mind. He’s said that to you before only this time there’s more behind it. You cling to him easily even as he dips his hand down and leaves no room for question when he skews his sweatpants down.

“Leg,” He whispers now, wrapping an arm around you and tapping the bottom of your right thigh. “Up.”

And you listen to his directions in a daze, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist as he uses a strong hand to hold you up. Both of your arms shoot around his neck when you feel it, the tip of his cock being tapped against your still sensitive clit.

“You okay?” He asks one last time, holding you so close to him that he truly can’t help but buck forward before you lend him any sort of answer.

Your head falls against his shoulder with a frantic nod, and his body moves on its own as a response. He immediately presses his hips forward and up while simultaneously sitting you right back into your mess from before. There, you fall back against both of your palms and wrap both of your legs around his waist when you feel the stretch.

It’s so strange to know this familiar feeling of him sinking into you, and somehow you think you love it more now than you ever did before.

He’s quick to lean over you with a slack jaw and low rumble of a moan, one arm wrapping around your waist to scoot you forward on him when he starts to move his hips.

Slowly at first. Just feeling you again.

His mouth remains slack, throat drying out at all of the sounds he wants to give you. God, you’re so wet for him always. The fit is so good. The way your pussy grips him with each drag out, only to pulse around him with each push in.

“You always take it so well–” He chokes out with another low moan, snapping his hips forward to quicken his pace. “Fuck, don’t ever–” He stumbles over his words, trying to hold them back but unintentionally saying more and more with each moaned out breath. “Don’t leave like that again.”

The words hit you harder than anything else right now. Even as he plunges his cock in and out of you so deep, it pulls nothing more than a whimper out of you with a quick shake of your head. You shoot up, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers buried into his hair.

Instantly you cry. Like you needed to hear Mingyu do more than just ask or plead. You need him to tell you what he wants. You need a threat. A demand.

“That’s it baby,” He smiles against your ear, pressing in deep and flexing his cock to stretch your walls out around him. “Hold onto me.”

And you do. You hold him as tightly as you can, feeling him and only him at this moment.

He only moves faster after that, fucking into you with more force than you ever remember him doing before. He presses into you so hard, and pulls out even faster, only to press back in harder, and harder, and harder.

Over and over again until you’re practically yelping through each thrust. Until he’s releasing small, animalistic grunts.

Until he can’t do it anymore. This position, in this room? It’s not enough.

He lifts you easily, loving the way you cling to him like a goddamn koala, keeping his cock buried into you as he walks you quickly to his couch. You land against the soft cushions in a mess of movements, and his hardened chest lands against you just a moment later.

As if he never stopped, he’s right back to dragging his hips back and forth, this time with more comfort, and his lips immediately fall to your neck.

His hands? Right up your shirt, groping, pinching, pushing, pulling.

He’s going absolutely insane, spiraling into a world of nothingness with you as he plunges into you like his life depends on it. Grunting and breathing you in and out, feeling his own weeping cock yearn to be deeper, deeper, fucking deeper in you.

You can’t even think straight, unable to remember if he’s ever been with you like this before. Your mind is so foggy, so in love with the man on you right now that you don’t really even care.

People always say that actions speak louder than words. Never once did you imagine that a person could move this way with you and speak so loudly with skin alone.

Never have you felt so wanted.

Never have you been so needed.

And he doesn’t stop. His hips keep pace with each moan against you, his hands search and find, only to search again and grip you so tightly that you fear he will leave swollen imprints.

You don’t mind. In fact, you want nothing more than to have Mingyu lose himself with you. Still, you can’t muster up any coherent words for him right now, because every sound you make is broken and dripping with the need for more of him.

Forever more, nothing less.

“God,” He breathes out when he looks down at you, hips still moving at a painful pace. “When you look at me like that–”

His eyes roll back for a moment mid sentence before he’s heaving in a breath and his hips slow to a long and languid drag.

“When you look at me like this, it’s so hard to not–” He holds his words back with a shameful chuckle, shutting himself up with a kiss to your lips as he furrows his brows and puts his focus back into his deep thrusts.

His words run circles in your head though, finishing his sentence for him in so many blissful ways that you feel your body tense at the pure excitement. Feeling his hips spread your legs with each thrust, making you feel sore all over, all of it, excitement.

“Hard not to, what?” You manage to breathe out against his lips, and his hips stutter at the way your voice breaks with each press into you.

“Don’t.” He nearly pleads, pulling his hands from you and instead using them to rest at both sides of your head, balancing all of his weight there as he drops his forehead to yours. “Don’t encourage me right now.”

You blink your eyes at him when he lifts his head again, feeling the way he slows his hips to a stop only to hold himself in place, throbbing inside of you. His eyes remain on yours, as if he wants you to challenge every word he says to you right now.

“Hard not to–” You breathe out, feeling him snap his hips as if to warn you. “What? Mingyu.”

He stares into your eyes, sucking his bottom lip in as he tries to remain composed. You only clench tighter around him though, causing a sort of sobbed groan to leave his throat this time.

“Tell me.” You whisper this time, clenching around him again and shifting your own hips to fuck yourself on him.

His eyes squeeze shut as he drops his forehead against yours once more, chuckling out another moan at how impossible you are to him.

“It’s hard to think I don’t want this.” He admits in a shaky breath, feeling the way you slide his cock in and out of you with pleasurable ease. “You.” He continues. “Hard to believe I’d ever be satisfied with you doing this with anyone other than–”

You pause, clenching unintentionally only to feel him take over again, dangerously close to his own orgasm.

“Me.” He finally says, cutting you off from responding by lifting from you entirely, angling his hips, and fucking dragging his hips back and forth just to send pointed japs against your g-spot.

After being so…protective? Or possessive, maybe? He can’t help but feel embarrassed by his intense need to have you. Not just now, no. Not just because he’s horny out of his mind for you, but because he’s already felt the frustration of not having you while you stood in front of him.

With your hand wrapped with his son’s.

Never again.

He wants this more than you know, more than he should ever admit to you.

“Mingyu–” You try to get out, but he throws a hand forward, more forceful than he’s ever been when he slips two fingers into your mouth just to keep you from enticing more truth from him.

The way you suck in those fingers with a moan is enough to drive him over the edge, but he tries to hold off.

He really tries.

But he can’t, as he falls forward with his fingers loosely hanging from your still licking mouth, and there, he empties himself entirely into you.

“Fuck–” He groans in frustration, his body jolting with each pulse. “You’re so–”

You can feel each pulse and push of his thick ropes of cum, shooting inside of you only to squelch out with each little push his hips offer. And his face, nuzzled so close against your neck now that you can feel the way his breath stutters with each wave of the orgasm.

All the way until he manages to lift with dizzy eyes, pulling his hips back to leave you empty as his cum drips out and onto the couch.

There, he stares down at what he’s done to you before panic washes over him.

It’s too late to go back now.

“You’re so–”

Silence, as every thought leaves his mind when he looks at you. How could he have ever formed words in the first place when you look up at him like this?

Like he’s the whole world.

The next morning, you sleep deeply next to Mingyu in the bed you missed so much. With the scent of him surrounding you and the weight of his arm thrown over you. His big and heavy limbs holding you close even in his deep sleep is enough to keep you locked into your own restful sleep.

You feel so safe, so warm, so comfortable. Like this is where you belong.

Nothing inside of you pulls with anxiety at this. In fact, you’re entirely too happy over the fact that you found yourself here the night before. Who cares about the circumstances anyway?

And as you lay there, half-asleep to roll over and nuzzle your nose against his neck, you breathe in deeply, lulling yourself back to sleep in his warmth.

That is, until you hear a ‘click’ of his doorknob turning and instantly you feel your full heart shrivel to almost dust.

“You’re fucking joking.”

Oh my god. The fear of opening your eyes is intense but you know that voice like the back of your hand. Your eyes open against your own will and your body turns over to see Chan, standing right there at the door with a murderous glare directed at you.

You wish it took you longer to process his figure, because honestly, you were feeling so warm in Mingyu’s grip, but now Mingyu, himself, is aggressively pulling himself away from you and rolling out of the bed.

He’s standing to his feet instantly as if he wasn’t just attached to you at the fucking cock. On the plus side, at least, he put on sweatpants before the two of you fell asleep together. Unfortunately, he also put one of his shirts on you to sleep in too.

What Chan is seeing in front of him is nothing that either of you can explain away.

“You’re fucking my dad.” Chan deadpans with a bite in his voice, standing there as he heaves in a breath that seems to get more and more angry as the seconds pass.

“We broke up.” You manage to mutter out, unaware of how to handle a situation like this but knowing deep down that if you continue to see Mingyu, he still would have found out eventually. “You cheated on me, remember?”

Chan rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off just to adjust his eyes over to Mingyu, his father.

Mingyu, towering on the other side of his bed, looks apologetic. He’s unable to explain himself because what Chan is seeing right now is really the only explanation he needs.

“You’re fucking my girlfriend?”

“We broke up!” You cut in again as you repeat yourself with a louder voice, standing from the bed and attempting to walk up to him. Mostly to try and avert his eyes from his father.

The way his eyes look straight past you and at Mingyu is terrifying enough to have you stumble back once you get too close though. It’s like Chan is seeing red, and arguably he has every right considering if anyone should be scolded, it’s definitely you.

“Chan,” Mingyu tries to soothe the conversation as he finally processes what is happening, his voice coming out calm and collected. Not wanting this to escalate, in fact, dead set on making damn sure that it doesn’t escalate.

Another harsh shake of his head, another roll of his eyes, and then he’s fixing his gaze back on you.

“You looked pretty comfortable, how long?”

You look to the floor, then turn to look at Mingyu. Both of you look entirely guilty, surely, but there’s something in you that feels proud. Maybe even relieved that it’s out in the open. After all, like you’ve already said twice, you broke up with him. And for good reason, mind you.

“Why does that matter?” You answer with a bite to your tone now, essentially answering his question.

“You cheated on me?” His voice raises, “With my dad, and still have the audacity to be upset with me over some girl at a party?!”

“No.” Mingyu speaks up. “We stopped. Last night was the first time since–”

“Am I supposed to appreciate that?!” Chan laughs out of dumbfounded rage, stumbling back and out of the doorway with a shake to his head. As if his eyes have to be deceiving him. “What do you mean ‘we stopped.’ ?!”

Chan feels overwhelmed. Like, he knew he fucked up with the way he acted, and really, he does care about you but what in the fuck? This is what he gets for trying to fix it? For coming to his dad first thing in the goddamn morning for advice? This is really what he gets? To see you, all cuddled in and smiling with that stupid fucking pretty face, in his own father’s t-shirt?

Fuck that.

He immediately turns on his heel and stomps towards the front door.

“Chan, hold on!” You call out, gripping his jacket to keep him from leaving. “I was the one who came onto him! Mingyu didn’t even–”

“Mingyu.” He repeats the way you say his father’s name when he turns to face you, disgusted by how naturally it came from your lips. “What else do you call him?”

You stand there in awe, looking even more guilty. You remember how Mingyu told you just to call him by his name, and so that’s all you ever called him. Never any pet names like what Chan is implying.

“Did you whine and cry for it like you always do for me?” He seethes out, inching his face closer and closer to yours. “Was it worth every second?”

“That’s enough,” Mingyu starts, walking up between the two of you and pulling your hand off of his son’s jacket. “Chan, that’s enough.”

Chan watches how gentle Mingyu is with your hand, eyeing how you let go the instant his fingertips touch your skin. His mind is fucking spinning in betrayal right now.

“We need to calm down before we talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Chan barks back, nearly spitting in his father’s face at the way he acts like he’s not the one guilty. “You’ve been fucking my girlfiend.”

And oh, poor fucking Jihoon, standing off to the side with his mouth permanently open in shock. Honestly, Chan was anxious before coming here, questioning Jihoon over and over again on how to explain himself and fix what he fucked up. The last thing he expected was to see none other than Chan’s girlfriend rushing out of Mingyu’s room without pants on, fucking glowing with that after-sex dew.

Oh god. This sucks.

“Chan!” Mingyu raises his voice this time, grabbing his son by both shoulders and forcing him to look at him.

And when Mingyu goes to try and explain himself, there’s nothing he can say. He simply looks at his son as his stoic face turns to that of realization.

All Chan can do is laugh at the audacity before shrugging Mingyu’s hands off of him and glaring at you once more.

“To think I wanted to fix things.” He breathes out, grimacing at you before shoving past you and going straight for the door.

Chan knew he fucked up with you, but it’s not like he slept with the girl. Sure, he was in the wrong to flirt, and to let her be all over him like that, but he’s not the one who went off and fucked someone last night. The fact that you could have broken up with him and fucked literally anyone else is flooring to him. He would have forgiven you if you had it in your heart to forgive him first.

But this? You not only went for his dad, but it hurts more knowing that his own father reciprocated?! More than once, apparently?

You’re both guilty.

You’re both disgusting.

And with that, Chan slams the front door behind him and Jihoon is left staring at the shaking walls before turning to look between you and Mingyu.

Only then do you notice Jihoon there, widened eyes and a big gulp of air.

“Fuck.” You groan, feeling dizzy and nearly falling to the floor right then and there.

Jihoon is quick to see himself out of this awkward situation, and it’s not long before you hear the car peel out of the driveway and down the street.

Fortunately, Mingyu is quick to come up behind you, hugging you as if everything that just happened wouldn’t stop him from touching you again.

Or maybe you’re just too hopeful, because within an instant, his once warm hands feel cold and shaky against you. This hold on you feels…different.

Like it’s out of obligation, not out of want, or need.

Instantly, you’re expecting him to end this right now. To end all of this with you, and it hurts more to think about how he should do that. You wouldn’t blame him, hell, no one would fucking blame him if that’s what this hug you’re getting from him is telling you.

It hurts. Of course it hurts. The inevitable of what any rational person would do in this situation bubbling up as a mass of anxiety in your throat. You can only remain quiet, feeling the soreness take hold on your heart.

Despite Chan being rightfully upset, despite what you’ve done, despite what Mingyu has done, you’re upset over it all simply because you can’t realistically be with Mingyu at the end of the day. No, not without ruining his life.

Not without both of you losing Chan, and to even expect him to do that in the first place should have been your first red flag regarding yourself.

You played them both, unintentionally, but with the best intentions at the end of the day.

And when you feel him hold you closer, that soreness inside of you settles just a bit. All he has to do is drop his chin to your shoulder and talk against your neck with a shaking breath.

“He’s not going to forgive either of us if we continue.” He whispers in a voice that seems both broken and firm at the same time. And he nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling deep before releasing a drawn out sigh with a tighter hold on you. “I understand if you want to be with my son, but I won’t be able to pretend I’m happy for either of you from this point forward.”

You pause, feeling the anxiety well up and jumble in your head.

“Is this an ultimatum?” You shake yourself from his grasp, feeling overwhelmed, guilty, happy that he’s suggesting that maybe, just maybe, he’d fight to keep you for himself.

But no. Instead, Mingyu stands tall, no longer shrinking himself to your size and glancing at you with a slow and stubborn shake of his head. Now, he’s unable to keep his eye trained on you, the weight and shame of what the two of you are doing is pushing him down, down, down.

“It’s wrong.” He explains as if you don’t know. The reality is that you do know, you just prefer not to listen. You prefer not to learn from this. “I can’t just pick you over my own son.”

You try to step forward to try and keep him from speaking. You’d do anything to keep him from speaking right now, but he isn’t budging. He doesn’t break like he usually does when you’re this close, in fact, he takes a step back and away from you.

You feel your heart hit the floor at that moment.

“So, it’s not an ultimatum.” Your voice cracks. “I just lost both of you.”

Mingyu can only nod, trying to ignore that crack in your voice and the tenseness in your shoulders.

“Which, somehow, doesn’t shock me.” You lend a pained laugh at the situation alongside a sniffle.

“Realistically.” Mingyu finally responds, his own voice wavering just for a moment. “I shouldn’t have given in, and I shouldn’t have led you on either. We both knew it couldn’t work.”

Why do you feel blamed for this?

“And at this point, I can’t give approval of you pursuing my son either. There’s too much between us that has happened, I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you again.”

“But what about everything from last ni-” You start, reaching forward and trying to grasp him, unaware that you’re about to start pleading.

“Don’t.” Mingyu’s voice wavers again when he says it, pulling away from you for what he hates for the last time. “Let’s just leave it.”

And with that, you’re left with no choice.

You leave, realizing that Chan probably knew from the moment he pulled in considering your car sits in the driveway proudly.

There’s nothing left here for you.

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months with no contact from Chan nor Mingyu. Which, that much is expected but you were still hopeful for a few weeks there.

Not even that you want Chan based on everything that’s happened, more so that you feel like he deserves the deepest apology you could possibly offer to another person. It appears he doesn’t want nor does he need it. Every text is met with the reminder that you’re blocked.

In time, you try to move on too. Each day is becoming easier and easier to forget how you felt, which is insane considering how deep you thought it was originally. There’s still love there, somewhere, but you’re well aware now that there’s nowhere to put it, and there is no one who wants it either.

So, you just…exist with it until it dwindles deep enough inside of you that laughing and meeting new people becomes easy.

Chan, on the other hand, is moving away. Thanks to Jihoon and his pre-planned transfer for the next semester, Chan was quick to jump on the plan with him and try his damndest to get a transfer in too.

It worked out, and he left the city with his best friend in tow without so much as telling you, better yet his father.

In fact, he doesn’t want a damned thing to do with either of you, and feels no pain or interest in thinking about what happened any longer than he already did. Months passed differently for him. They passed happily.

And, well, that leaves Mingyu with his internal fight for his son’s forgiveness after all this time passed.

Not a day has gone by where Mingyu wasn’t fighting with himself on whether to get on his knees and fucking beg Chan to talk to him, or to give in, again and again, just to see you. Just to feel you. Just to hear you.

He’s going fucking insane, actually. Thankfully though, after months worth of attempts to gain forgiveness, Chan made himself very clear that he never wanted to speak to Mingyu again. Well, that leaves little to no room for Mingyu to keep trying. At least not for now.

He is forever thankful to Jihoon though, despite knowing what he’s done to Chan, Jihoon still sends him update texts.

“Chan has a new girlfriend,” Mingyu found out just last month about that.

“His grades are really good, but I wouldn't suggest asking him home for the holidays. He plans to spend them with me and my family,” Mingyu heard just a week ago.

And, well, despite the fact that his own son has rightfully disowned him, he still feels proud that Chan appears to be happy and doing well. Even with a father as useless as he is these days, he truly is proud of him.

So that leaves us here. Cool winter air outside, heated arguments and painful words left long forgotten to burn little patterns into every heart that was involved in the situation.

If there’s anything Mingyu can fuck up now, he can’t imagine the outcome being worse than it already is. He tried everything to fix the situation, and it appears that this is just how things are going to be from now on.

Without his son.

But not without you.

After a long and exhausting day out with your friends, you feel good. Happy, even. Genuinely happy for the first time without the weight of past situations weighing you down. You were happy to make it home and even happier to enjoy a nice and warm shower alone.

Because finally you feel okay being entirely alone. You feel comfortable.

That is, until you check your phone and notice that you received a text message hours prior to now. Your stomach instantly drops reading the name, because you really thought you’d never live to see the day where he reaches out to you.

Mingyu: can we talk?

Mingyu: just talking. nothing else.

The fact that he still had your number saved. The fact that you remember how the gravel of his driveway felt under your tires when you went to see him. The fact that you can remember the coolness his kitchen counter offered to you the last time you spent the night, and the warm bed you woke up in before it went cold.

Just like that, you’re back to square one. Reverting back to all that is Mingyu, and all of that silent, reluctant love he gave you despite the problems that would arise.

And upon Mingyu finally seeing you again, he really, really can’t help it.

Immediately, he’s giving in to a woman who ruined his relationship with his son without her so much as trying, giving in to the touch and feel of another person, and giving in to his own weakness.

He missed you.

He always fucking misses you.

And at the end of the day, that’s really all he can say about the entire situation. He misses you, and despite the fact that Chan will never forgive him for this, the truth of the matter is that sometimes two people grow feelings for each other regardless of the surrounding circumstances. Chan wasn’t going to forgive him to begin with anyway.

Regardless of losses and gains. Regardless of the whispering in town. Regardless of the pain and heartache that could inevitably come from this, Mingyu cannot keep his heart to himself.

Especially when you so willingly accept it. Here, tangled in the sheets of his bed, hands intertwined his with, hushed breaths and warm tears.

He doesn’t think he could ever regret what he’s done with you. In fact, it’s possible that he’d be willing to lose much, much more than to give you up again.

There’s only one thing that drives a person to go to such drastic lengths. It’s not selfishness, it’s not lust, and it’s certainly not spite. A nagging feeling so ingrained within the heart, digging and prodding until the sorrow overflows that empty piece and fills a person with so much dread and dilemma that all they can do is either rip their hair out or fucking bite the bullet.

Some would say it’s love.

Mingyu would say it’s you.

#seventeen smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #svt smut

1K notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 2 months

Text

────141 headcanons: touching the belly────

a/n: y'all know i'm a sucker for the the pregs trope so i had to do this request. and i only did the four dinguses for this one, sorry anon ☺️

warning(s): pregnancy, fluff+angst, invasion of reader's personal space/privacy, protectiveness, hurt/comfort?, afab!reader

‧˚₊ MAIN MASTERLIST ⟢ 141 MASTERLIST ‧₊˚⊹

๋࣭ ⭑ PRICE

⌞one of the perks of being married to john is being supported. quite literally the definition of it, in every form. that goes for your baby too, no questions asked. he's more akin to simon in being traditional while you're expecting. wants you home, resting and not lifting a finger.

he's very particular about who he lets close to you, more than ever now. it makes sense considering his work and the general fragility of a new family. in the same way as kyle, he's constantly stressed. wants everything to be perfect for you and soon to be little one.

always has his eye on you, just like he does all his men. there's nothing he doesn't see or already knows about. honestly, may even spot a bad apple before you do. won't even bother with politeness and will shoo them away before their hand(s) even make contact with your tummy.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ SIMON

⌞ he was already protective enough before you got pregnant, but he's at a whole new level now. practically a full-time security guard by the time you reach your third trimester. ESPECIALLY when you two find yourselves out and about — which isn't often.

on the off chance that you're at some sort of gathering with simon, he's at your side no matter what. eyeing every person who approaches you, only chiming in when spoken to, out of mere courtesy. as soon as you give him any inkling of discomfort, he's asking you if he should go start the car.

one thing he hasn't gotten used to yet is the touching. how people often belaud pregnant women. cross boundaries constantly to get a feel of them and their bellies. it's already hard enough getting the man to relax, but it's hopeless now with all the new people he "needs" to keep an eye on. it's not a matter of him catching someone touching your belly; he'll already be standing there most likely. glares, huffs, will certainly go as far as removing their hand if it lingers long enough.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ SOAP

⌞doesn't see any point in excluding you from functions if you think you can handle them. loves having you on his lap or right beside him when he's out, even in pregnancy. as long as you're comfortable and able to signal to him when you're too tired or need something — he's just happy you're there.

most of all, johnny is fiercely protective of the bump. more than he is of you (which is nearly unfathomable, i know). and if there's one thing he loves more than you — it's gushing about you to anyone who'll listen. so, initially, he might not notice someone making you tense while amid his blabbing.

but after so long with him, you've learned to accept the flattery for what it is and remember how easy it is for him to get distracted. a firm squeeze to his hand or a tug to his jacket will do the trick. but once realizes what's happening, he's on it (with his new Dad Speed). finds a way to distract the person and slip you the car keys. promises he'll be out in two minutes to drive you home — and he always is.⌝

๋࣭ ⭑ GAZ

⌞ even though he'd prefer you bundled up in bed and waiting for him, kyle still enjoys doing things with you. he definitely gives a wider berth than the other guys, but he's just as vigilant (if not more). he's more subtle about it, if anything.

it isn't just you to protect anymore, it's you and his baby. so, forgive the man for his pinched brows and clenched fists, he's reverted into nothing but a ball of anxiety the further the months progress.

doesn't mind people having a feel of you, usually, when they only mean well (it's typically older ladies anyhow). but sometimes it's a more unsavory interaction; someone who isn't taking any hints, who can't bear to leave the two of you alone. on one hand, gaz understands — an expectant, attractive couple out on a wholesome shopping trip is bound to lure attention. he takes a slower approach, less hostile to avoid upsetting you anyone. brushes it off with an excuse; "oh, love, you got that appointment today, right? don't wanna be late." and then makes his exit, a guiding hand around your waist.⌝

1K notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 1 month

Text

Where I Left My Lover

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After a brush with death, Azriel makes a difficult decision to protect you.

Warnings: angst!!!! & bad decisions.

Word Count: 3.8k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

With a forceful push, the door to Rhysand’s office swung open as Nesta swept into the room, eyes blazed with a fury that made Azriel swallow. Cassian’s loud footsteps echoed as he followed after his mate.

"Tell me it isn't true," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

Rhysand moved to intercept her, his hand outstretched in a futile attempt to stop her from her warpath. "Nesta, perhaps we should—"

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nesta shoved him away with a forceful gesture, her gaze fixed on Azriel. The shadowsinger stood eerily still, even his shadows unmoving.

"Azriel," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Tell me it isn't true."

His gaze faltered, and suddenly he found himself unable to meet Nesta's accusing, burning stare. He looked away, his shadows curling into themselves behind him, as if retreating in shame.

Nesta's anger flared, hands clenching at her side. She breathed out sharply, the sound a mixture of frustration and rage. Whipping around to face Rhysand, she leveled a searing gaze at him.

"I expect something like this from you," she spat, her tone laced with contempt.

Rhysand's expression hardened into a withering glare, but before he could respond, Nesta turned back to Azriel. "But you?" she continued, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You're supposed to be better than this."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he grit his teeth together. From behind Nesta, he watched as Cassian approached, staring at him with a frown and furrowed brows. Azriel looked back to Nesta.

“You don’t understand-”

"I don't care," she retorted, her tone icy. "You cannot do this. Not to Y/n."

At the mention of your name, Azriel's heart clenched, a wave of sadness washing over him like a relentless tide. He swallowed hard.

"This is for Y/n," he responded, his voice low. Flat. "To keep her safe."

"That is not your decision to make," Nesta snarled, "You are stripping her of her right to choose, and you know deep down she wouldn't want this."

There was something about the way Nesta spoke, how she stared at him with such disappointment, that made him angry. Azriel was making the right decision. He was being selfless, yet everyone was seeing it the other way, seeing him as some monster.

Within seconds, his control slipped, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing with a dark intensity. "She almost died!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with desperation. "She almost died because of me. I don't care what she wants. I'm doing this to keep her safe."

Cassian moved quickly, placing a firm hand on Nesta's shoulder. “Watch it,” he growled as he met Azriel's gaze.

Azriel blinked. And then he was composing himself once more, moving back into a straight posture. "I'm doing this because I love her," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow.

"No," Nesta said, her voice sharp. "This is not love. This is wrong. And if you go through with it, I'll never let you forget it."

As Nesta turned to leave, Azriel felt a pang of regret gnaw at his heart. A wave of guilt washed over him at the realization that he had disappointed someone he cared about so deeply. He truly cared about Nesta, respected her strength and conviction, and the thought of her walking away, angry and disillusioned, made him sick to his stomach. Had he lost two people today? Was he truly doing the right thing?

Yes, he reminded himself. Images of you conjured in his brain— your pale, bruised and bloody body, the way you laid limp in his arms. He thought back to how he’d relished in the screams of the soldiers who had tortured you, how he took his time carving them out for what they had done. He thought about how long you’d been in that bed, unmoving with shallow breaths, how scared he’d been that he’d lost you. You were human. You were something he could lose. And his life, his duties, had almost cost him your life.

Azriel looked up to meet Rhysands gaze, who had been standing in quiet observation, making no move to talk or intervene. Azriel had already spoken to Rhys, had gotten the same discussion from him. His gaze flickered to Cassian, who was shaking his head as he stared out of the door his mate had left through.

“Nes is right,” Cassian said, “I mean, we’ve done our fair share of questionable things, but this?”

He paused for a moment, eyes darting between his two brothers.

“It’s what needs to be done,” Azriel said.

Cassian shook his head. “No. It’s what you think needs to be done. And you’re wrong.”

Azriel let out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched.

“Rhys,” Cass said, turning to face the High Lord. “C’mon. You know better than this. You really think this is okay?”

Rhysand held his gaze. For a moment, Cass believed he’d gotten through to his brother, that perhaps he’d realized how far this was going to go, how wrong Azriel was. But Rhysand simply straightened his posture.

“I’m not a part of this,” was all he responded.

Cass shook his head once more, poking a finger into Rhysand’s chest.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Az has lost his goddsdamned mind. Why are you entertaining this?”

It was Azriel who moved next, walking up to Cassian and pushing him away with a small shove. He gave a snarl, shadows swirling around his forearms. Cass looked down at the hand pressed against his chest, and then up at Azriel with flared nostrils and a look of deep disappointment in his eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel growled, “You think this is something I want to do?”

Cassian pushed him off.

“I think you’ve lost sight of what is fear and what is reason.”

“Enough,” Rhysand commanded, walking to the two males to separate them with his extended hands. He turned to Cassian and let out a small exhale. Cass saw it, then, the sadness in his eyes.

“In the centuries that Azriel has been a part of this family, a part of this court, he has not asked for favors. He has asked me now, and I owe it to him.”

Cassian let out a small scoff. It was a losing game. They were all stubborn— it came with their lineage, with their dna. So he settled at casting Azriel another glance and frowned.

"This is selfish, Az," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "She is not only yours. She’s family. She’s Nesta’s friend. She’s my friend—"

Something flickered in Azriel's eyes, a weariness settling over him as he grew tired of defending his actions. "Do you want her as a friend or do you want her alive?"

Cassian slightly recoiled, a small tick in his jaw. “That’s not fair.”

“Cassian,” Rhys said slowly, “Leave.”

Cassian rubbed his jaw, a heavy anger simmering beneath his skin as he shot one last glare at Azriel. "Whatever," he muttered in disappointment, "I can’t even look at you."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the room.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The soft chirping of birds filled the air, the sounds a gentle caress against Azriel’s skin. The beauty around him stood out in stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung over him like a suffocating cloak. He’d always loved your little home, loved how secluded it was, how quiet. Everything was slower here, more timid, more calm.

You were inside with Rhysand, now, and Azriel could hear the faint echo of your voices. It didn’t last long. Within moments it went quiet, and Az clenched his fists at his side.

The longer he lingered outside, the more he felt the pull of your presence, the echo of your touch haunting him like a ghost. Azriel fought every urge to run back inside, to hold you and kiss you again like he had moments prior. It wasn't long enough. He should have taken another minute, another hour. But he knew, deep down, it would never be enough, that it would never be the right time. The longer he spent with you, the longer he felt your touch, it broke him even more.

Azriel’s shadows pulled at him, wrapping around his ankles as if to pull him back inside. He scolded them, his wings twitching as he slightly kicked his feet. They swarmed once more. They were angry at him too. Azriel knew this. He felt it in their touch, in the way they’d whisper. He did his best to ignore it.

He wasn’t being selfish. He was putting you first.

There was a faint creak as the door opened behind him. Swiftly, he turned around, his eyes locking with Rhysand's as his brother stepped out and closed the door behind him with a deliberate slowness.

Rhysand gave Azriel a small, curt nod. "It's done.”

Azriel's chest tightened, a lump forming in the back of his throat. "Is she-" he began, his voice catching in his throat.

“She’s alright.”

There was a heavy ache in Azriel’s chest now, something tender like an open wound. His heart felt hollow. Empty. He looked down at the ground, at the shadows at his feet, and tightly shut his eyes.

Rhysand’s face softened. “Az,” he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. And before Rhysand could respond, he disappeared.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel stood outside the small inn, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated at the threshold. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't risk drawing attention to himself or risk the chance of undoing what he’d chosen to do. But the pull of his own longing had been too strong to resist. He’d lasted longer than expected, but even then, he’d been in agony. He was restless, angry, and above all else, he was lonely.

With a deep breath, he adjusted his posture, making a mental check of the glamour he’d put around himself, concealing his wings and any other identifying features of his. Even with the cover, he kept his wings tightly folded against his back, just in case something went awry.

And then he entered, casting a wary glance around the room as he made his way through the crowded floor. His hands were tucked securely in his pockets, his shadows coiled around him like protective tendrils. He’d done his best to make them blend into the black material of his clothing, told them to stay put and ripple like fabric would.

Finding a small table in the corner, Azriel made his way over, but as he lowered himself into the seat, a nagging voice in the back of his mind warned him of the folly of his actions. This was stupid, dangerous, and entirely self-indulgent. Dangerous, dangerous, his shadows echoed. He tightened his jaw. He would only be here for a few moments, he told himself, he just wanted to see you— once. That was all.

His shadows whispered louder, a small anxious buzz in his head. He needed to leave before it was too late.

But before he could make a move, he looked up and froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Hello,” you said timidly, giving him a small smile. Azriel’s heart leapt as the sound, a sudden rush of warmth filling his veins. Your hair was shorter now than the last time he saw you, and you wore a few dainty gold chains around your neck that he’d never seen. Had you bought those recently? Made them with your friends? They looked beautiful on you. And you had so much color. You looked alive. You looked happy.

A moment passed as Azriel simply stared at you, and then he was shaking his head slightly, freeing himself of the daze he had fallen into.

“Uh, hi- hello.”

It was then he finally noticed the two small glasses in your hands, both filled slightly with an amber liquid. You followed his gaze, looking down at your own hands. You frowned slightly and then you extended one towards him.

“I’m not sure why I brought this,” you admitted, “But here. This is for you.”

Azriel swallowed, gently reaching out to take the small cup from your hands. His fingers brushed against your skin ever so slightly and he nearly jumped at the contact, a tingling sensation filling his body. Your brows furrowed as you observed his hands, your gaze tracing over the perfectly smoothed, tan skin.

He had them glamoured too, just to be safe.

He watched as you blinked, your expression shifting with a mixture of confusion, as if you sensed something wrong. A wave of sickening guilt rolled through his stomach. His shadows circled at his feet— subtly enough that they’d blend in to the darkness of the cornered floor, but strong enough to where Azriel felt them, pawing at him like dogs to an owner.

“Thank you,” Azriel finally brought himself to say.

Your gaze instantly flickered back to his eyes. You scanned his face, taking in his features, the brown of his eyes. And then you gave him another smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks. You looked over to the empty seat in front of him.

"Do you mind?"

Azriel felt a surge of flustered panic coursing through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to compose himself. "Oh, yes, of course, please," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He readjusted himself in his own chair.

As you settled into the seat across from him, Azriel couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He watched, mesmerized, as you took a small sip from the glass, the soft curve of your lips bringing back every memory he’d held of them.

He watched as you scanned the crowd. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away, to break the spell. This would only make things worse for him. But try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't tear himself away from indulging in your presence. It took every ounce of restraint within him not to lean forward, to reach out and caress you.

You caught Azriel's gaze as he quickly averted his eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips at his sudden shyness. "I'm sorry for interrupting your quiet time," you said.

Azriel shifted in his seat. "No," he replied, a bit too quickly, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, I don't mind."

You smiled, a warmth in your eyes that made his heart flutter– something just as painful as it was comforting.

"This may sound silly, but it feels like I was supposed to come talk to you," you confessed, your voice soft.

A tug in his chest. “Really?"

"Yes," you replied, your gaze drifting momentarily to the crowd before returning to him. "I'm quite good at listening. Maybe you need a good ear."

Azriel chuckled softly. You always were great at listening, even better at talking, too. It was a perfect balance. He’d always loved that about you. Your presence was so calming, so quiet compared to the loudmouths he called family, even if he loved them dearly. He missed it, how gentle you were.

"I don't know if that's what I need.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious expression. "What brought you here today?"

Azriel thought for a moment, his gaze falling to his glass as he traced a finger along its rim. He knew he couldn't hide the truth from you, not when you were always so good at reading him, so stubborn at getting what you really wanted.

After a brief pause, he finally admitted, "A girl."

Your eyes lit up with interest, a smile gracing your lips as you leaned in slightly. "Yeah?" you asked, “She somebody special?”

Azriel met your gaze, attempting to muster a smile, but a lump formed in his throat, choking back the words he struggled to say. He bounced his knee nervously under the table. “She was. I can’t seem to let her go.”

Your frown deepened at the admission, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart. "I'm sorry," you murmured.

But Azriel quickly shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips as he reassured you, "It's alright."

Silence enveloped you for a moment.

"She was the love of my life," Azriel said, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. He glanced up at you, instantly finding your attentive gaze that met his own.

You remained quiet, but he knew the look on your face. Eyes wide, slight furrowed brows, a small smile. You were urging him to continue, waiting for him to finish, to be heard.

"Beautiful, kind, funny," he continued, his voice soft with reverence. "Also a great listener."

As he spoke, memories of moments shared with you flooded his mind, each beautiful and painful in their own rite, a haunting sense of longing drowning his senses.

You gave a small breathy laugh.

"No wonder you can't let her go," you said. There was a ting of sadness in your gentle voice. Azriel wondered what it was for.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, his gaze drifting back to his glass.

Silence settled between you once more, the air heavy with every unspoken thought and emotion that Azriel felt. He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he let it slip. But before he could stop himself, Azriel looked up, his gaze searching yours as he asked, "Have you ever felt that way?"

You paused, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. For a moment, you opened your mouth to respond, but the words eluded you, leaving you with a furrowed brow and a frown of uncertainty.

You slumped slightly in your chair, a heaviness settling over you as you admitted, "No, I haven't."

Azriel's heart sank at your response, a pang of disappointment coursing through him despite his efforts to suppress it. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that there might have been a glimmer of memory within you, somewhere deep in your bones that recognized him.

He didn’t know why he pressed further, didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from talking. He felt his shadows slowly rising from his feet, now surrounding his thighs. He pushed them back.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A part of him dared to hope yet again, to cling to the possibility that you feel the same yearning, the same ache that he’d felt for years. But even as he spoke the words, another part of him recoiled in shame, knowing that he had no right to ask, no right to expect anything from you. He had dug his own grave. This was his doing. This was his choice— and he was being selfish. He was being so utterly selfish as he sat there before you.

Still, the longing lingered, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of his own self-imposed exile. But as he watched you, the sadness etched in your features, he knew that his hopes had been in vain.

Your gaze met his, troubled and uncertain, and you hesitated before answering, "I— No. I don't think I have."

Azriel felt a wave of sadness wash over him at your response, a deep ache settling in his chest. His heart was burning now, a pain that made him queasy, made him want to cry and scream at the same time. He decided this was worst than any torture– having to sit across from you as a stranger, as someone who was unable to touch you, hold you, tell you how beautiful you looked, and listen to you say you’d never been in love. Because you had been. You were deeply in love, so in love it scared you both.

A hot anger filled him. He mourned his old life. He mourned his future with you. You were something real. He had something real. But his past, his duty, his life, it had prevented him from keeping it all, from indulging in a life much simpler than his own, one where he could sit across from you in a run-down inn and watch drunken village males make bets with one another.

But it was still his fault. He had done this. And you sat before him, a look of frustration on your face, as if you could feel something was off. Shame filled him. He needed to leave.

Quickly he brought his cup to his lips and chugged the remainder of his drink, the burn of alcohol a bitter sensation that he welcomed with open arms.

"Thank you for the company," Azriel said as he pushed himself up from the table.

Your gaze followed him, a flicker of concern in your eyes as you watched him rise. "You're leaving?" you asked with a frown.

Azriel nodded, his movements stiff as he straightened his posture. "It was very nice meeting you," he replied, his voice strained as he turned to go.

But before he could take another step, you spoke again, your words stopping him in his tracks. "Wait," you said, the chair sliding on the floor as you stood.

Azriel turned back to face you, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited your next words. It was getting harder to breathe now, his heartbeat shuddering in his ears. He needed to leave.

"I hope that one day I'll experience a love like that," you said, pausing for a moment. With a soft, but hesitant, smile, you continued, "That one day, someone will love me like you loved her."

A flicker of surprise crossed Azriel's features. His mouth fell open slightly as he took a sharp inhale. And then he was swallowing heavily, blinking away the pressure building up behind his eyes.

“You will,” he responded, his voice a slight croak. He cleared his throat, looking to the floor for a second. Then, his gaze was holding yours for a lingering moment. "Goodbye, Y/n.”

You watched his retreating figure with a small smile on your lips. But then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, a realization struck you. You frowned.

Your feet moved of their own accord, propelling you forward faster than your mind could process. You dashed to the entrance, flinging open the door as sunlight flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you.

"Wait! How did you know my—" you began, the words catching in your throat as you stepped outside, your eyes scanning the area in search of Azriel's retreating form. But to your dismay, there was no one there, no trace of him to be found, only the empty street stretched out before you, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun.

Your voice trailed off into a whisper as you finished your sentence, "name.”

Your name.

How did he know your name?

Frowning, you brought a hand to your chest, feeling a small burning fluttering sensation in your ribs. With a sigh, you bit the inside of your cheek. You turned around and made your way back inside, your heart now heavy with a sensation you didn’t quite know how to name.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: since in death & his reaper azriel forgot about reader, i obvs had to balance the scales and write one where the reader forgets az. we luv angst!!! hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction

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calumfmu · 1 month

Text

sugar coated melting.

Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

Famous!Steve Harrington x Assistant!reader (modern!au, with 40's Steve) 7.5k+ words

cw: older Steve Harrington, smut, loss of virginity, inexperienced!reader, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), mentions of death, swearing, 18+, mdni

Working with one of the most famous actors in the world was draining, exhausting, taxing, everything you could negatively describe. He was such a high maintenance person, he made your job seem like a constant boot camp run for the Navy Seals. Your best friend had cackled at that supply of information.

Steve wasn’t a bad person, no. He was handsome (obviously, he had been voted most handsome of the previous 2 years in a row), kind (to most people—who weren’t you), and compassionate (he let you eat his leftovers that one time you had gotten stuck on set for 16 straight hours). You were getting paid to say nice things about him if anyone had asked.

Life working as his head assistant was just a drag. It was everything you had dreamed of doing when you were a kid, working in Hollywood with big A-listers, attending red carpets, seeing the way movies worked. The job wasn’t the problem, it… was him.

A script was shoved into your hands as you thought of giving it to the man. The look on his face was burned into the back of your mind, irritation crossing his features as you imagined giving him the bad news. He always took things out on you, attitude forward as he said some slick remark.

Last minute script change, typical of productions like these. Something that anyone could expect while working on these things. Anyone with a normal level of patience would handle it well, take it with stride.

Your fingers rapped against the trailer door, aluminum warm to the touch from the sun beating down on it. Movement sounded behind the door, mumbling a few words out at you.

The door swung open, Steve rubbing at his eyes with his hair sticking in every direction. Fuck, he was asleep. It made it so much worse delivering the news.

“Heyyy, boss,” you beamed, voice raising a few octaves. You held out the script to him, cringing slightly. “Nothing too crazy, just a sliight chan-”

“No,” the door slammed in your face, your eyes closing as the bright reflection shone on you. Your smile immediately dropped, the reflection of your face on the white aluminum door looking back at you.

Red seethed through you, frustration prickling at the back of your neck. You knocked again, this day becoming even longer with each passing second.

“Mr. Harrington.” You were met with silence, ear pressing to the door to hear any movement. You waited a beat, knocking more urgently.

“Don’t want it, tell them no,” he grumbled behind the door, his voice sounded across the trailer, muffled through the closed door.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the patience to not go off on him. You were his assistant, not his agent, not the director of the film, not anything else. What did he realistically think you were going to do about a script change?

“‘M just delivering it, Mr. Harrington.” Your voice was level. “I don’t even think it’s your lines that changed.”

A faint note of music came through the door, Steve deciding to tune you out. Looking towards the sky, you squinted, finding prayer between the clouds.

“Mr. Harrington!”

Another PA walked by you, speaking into the earpiece she had with a clipboard in hand. You raised a hand to greet her, faux smile crossing your lips as you pretended everything was okay. She waved back, making her way in between the trailers and out of your eyesight.

As soon as she disappeared, your fist came up to bang at the door, louder than before.

It opened in the middle of your fit, you nearly stumbled into the trailer. You cut your eyes at your boss, biting your tongue at the swear words that threatened to come out.

The man was well past 30 years old, but still acted like a spoiled brat.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth, grabbing the stack of papers from your hand. He barely glanced at it before tossing it on the small couch behind him. Your eyes followed it, noticing the mess of bottles on the floor around it.

He followed your gaze with his own eyes, stepping into your eyesight as he closed the door slightly.

“Anything else, Yn?” A pinch of attitude at your name. Typical.

You smiled at the man, frustration disappearing as you were just grateful this episode of his didn’t last as long as it did last week.

“No, sir, that would be it for me,” you gave him a slightly bow, clasping your hands in front of you before swiveling on your heel. Descending the mini set of stairs, you rolled your eyes, back to him as you descended. “Fucking twat.”

“I heard that!” His voice was far behind you, your feet moving fast across the blacktops. You smiled back at him, waving as confusion crossed your features.

“Sorry sir, I said it was fucking hot!” You lied straight through your teeth. “Outside, you know? Pardon my language.”

You rolled your eyes once more, turning back on your mission to get back inside the building. You and him both knew what you said, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Nothing you did would get you fired, trust, have you tried.

It was like you were in your own personal Purgatory. You assumed Steve liked you, he wouldn’t fire you even on your worst days. You had fucked up many times, forgetting things, slipping up on his to do list, calling the wrong people for the wrong events. More recently, he had heard the rude nicknames you had for him, and he just didn’t seem to care.

You had heard him one time, whisper under his breath about “best help in Hollywood”. It was sarcastic of course, his eye roll you’ve been well acquainted with to follow.

The last few weeks have been more of a hell for you, Steve becoming more temperamental and moody, you becoming the worst employee on planet Earth. You begged to be fired at this point, your shot at unemployment looking more and more appetizing.

A sudden ring cut through the air, your back pocket buzzing. Pulling it out, you nearly ripped your hair out, Steve’s contact popping up on the screen. I could ignore it, you thought. This could finally be my chance at escaping him.

Your thoughts were cut short, the phone ringing again as Steve's name popped up. He didn't even let the first one finish before trying you again.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," you breathed, hand pressed into your brow as you answered. "Hi, sorry, sir. Did you need me?"

"Need you to come back," you heard him say, voice muffled as he seemed to be doing other things on the other side of the line. Your feet responded before your brain did, autopilot in motion. "Script's not fucking working, and I just-"

Something fell in the background, and your footsteps faltered. You ignored it, rolling your eyes yet again at his antics.

"Are you okay, sir?" You asked, seeing his trailer in the distance. One of the trailer windows had its blinds half up, he paced back and forth.

You approached it, listening to him as he rambled on the phone, speaking about how much he hated this director and his damn agent for giving him these roles. Fighting back laughter, you cosigned with him, not choosing to mention that this stupid role was worth $13 million.

You raised your fist to knock at the door, it swinging open before you could even make a noise. The three dial tones of the phone call ending rung in your ears, Steve grumbling at you to enter.

"A-are you sure, sir?" Hesitation filled you, you weren't used to stepping into his trailer. You think you'd been in it once during the last seven months of production, grabbing his left behind cell phone before they traveled to location.

Steve didn't look at you the whole time, just muttering words under his breath as he held the brand new scripts in his hand. He was pacing, feet burning holes in the carpet of the trailer.

You slowly stepped in, apprehensively closing the door behind you. Hands clasped in front of you, you stood in close proximity to the door, eyes shifting over the large trailer.

He had clothes thrown over one end of the vehicle, previous scripts sitting on the makeshift table, and a half full glass of a dark colored liquid next to it. You eyed it, brow furrowing as you swore this man had been sober for the past few years--or at least, that's what the news outlets said about him. Not like you kept up.

"Sir," you interjected his thoughts, causing him to stop in place. He still didn't look at you. "Why am I here?"

Curt answers were the easiest way for you to pretend to be nice to him. You knew you couldn't be outright rude, this was your boss after all. Saying stuff under your breath and if he accidentally heard was another thing.

He ignored you.

"How is this supposed to be the Oscar nomination when they have me acting like this?" He exhaled a small shout at the end of his words, your eyes squinting at the volume. "Does this make sense to you? It's like they want me to make a fool of myself, no?"

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, sir."

He waited a moment, sighing loudly as he collapsed on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. You looked at him then, seeing the way his chest heaved as he shook his eyes. The sun was setting now, golden hour lighting inching through the windows over his figure. His bed head was still wild, even more messy than it was previously.

"W-what would you like me to do, sir?" You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you felt the awkwardness creep into the air. This was the longest you had been in a room with him, at least, with no one around.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you took note of your 'shift' being almost over. It was a quarter to seven, your freedom lingering in the distance.

"Sir?"

"Enough!" He cut out, breaking his silence. You jumped at the words, ducking your head as his outburst came. This was the Steve you knew, the short tempered boss who was always so moody whenever things didn't go his way.

You opted for silence, not daring to speak as you awaited his next choice of words.

His arm left his face, palm running down his features as he stared into the ceiling of the trailer.

"Sorry, I just," his voice was significantly lower. He sat up on the edge of the couch, his palms resting on his thighs. "I just need you to take me home."

Your eyes closed briefly, irritation quickly crossing you as you realized this was going to be a longer day than you imagined. If Steve had needed you longer than you were scheduled, then so be it.

"Why?" The word wasn't supposed to come out, replacing the 'okay' that sat on the edge of your mouth.

His gaze cut to you quickly, searching your face as you stood there. Eyes burning slightly, you felt tears prickling. The pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and Friends rerun marathon looking further away from you could bring you to tears.

"Because I employ you, do I not?" The harshness in his words did nothing but fuel the 'Hollywood Tell All' feature you planned for the day you quit.

"You do, sir, yes," You muttered, hands dropping to your side in defeat. "I just thought you'd drive yourself like normal. You know, day ends, and I'll see you here the next day, eight sharp like normal."

"I can't--no," he answered, standing up as he gathered his things. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You just need to take me home. You can drive my car."

The words to protest him were lost in your throat. You complied with his actions, eyes to the floor as he finished gathering his things. Following him out of the trailer, you sighed, feeling like you were walking into a lion's den.

The walk to the private lot was silent, Steve grumbling to himself as he texted someone on his phone. You noticed his phone ringing several times, his thumb finding the red button to end it each time. Curse words came out of his mouth every few seconds, a few from your own mouth being added to the mix as you thought of ways to leave.

As the two of you came across an old school beemer sitting deep in the parking lot, he threw the keys at you, settling into the passenger seat. Reluctantly, you slide in the driver's seat, feeling the leather interior beneath your fingers.

"Nice car, boss," You whispered, checking out how the car didn't even look a day out of 1985. Steve side eyed you, nodding at the compliment before returning to his phone.

"Get us there in one piece, yeah?"

You sucked your teeth as his comment, shaking your head before starting the car. It was like it was impossible for him to be a decent person. Here you were, doing something for this man which may or may not be in your contract, and he couldn't even say thank you to a compliment about his car.

The ride was silent save for an old tape that played in the car. Some band from the 80's you noted, a little too old for your taste. Steve's fingers tapped away at his phone, not focused on the LA traffic you sat in for most of the drive. He gave you directions to his swanky high rise, ignored you as you struggled to keep up with him.

You pulled into an underground garage, valet men coming immediately, opening the door for you as they took the keys. Everything happened in such fast motion, you barely noticed he was half way to the elevator. Jogging to catch up with him, you turned your own attention to your phone, thumb hovering over the Uber app.

Steve took a call, fingers rapidly pressing the elevator button as he spoke (yelled) at the person on the other end.

"No, Robin, I'm not doing that, okay?" He said, voice gruff as he glanced at you. You heard the static voice of the person on the other line, seeming to be yelling at him too.

The elevator dinged, the two of your bodies stepping in as the doors opened. The transportation app on your phone lagged, loading bar stagnant on your screen.

"No, I get it, it's been years. Fine, I-" Steve groaned in frustration, eyes repeatedly shifting over to you as you tried to tune out the phone call. You stared at the numbers the elevator passed, the first floor blinking by before you could say anything. Your phone remain in your hand, screen dimming as it began to time out.

"Robin. I know."

The voice on the other line picked up, the woman's voice growing even louder. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, grimacing at the volume. The elevator stopped at a floor labeled 'P', doors opening to a mini lobby that ended in double doors. He went over to unlock them, key fob in his hands as a beep sounded through the empty room.

As he stepped through them, phone balanced on his shoulder with his ear pressed to it, he looked at you. You stood right outside the elevator, doors closing behind you as you didn't know what to do.

He held open his front door, hand waving at you in frustration. "Well, are you coming in?"

You pressed your lips together, another wave of irritation pulling at your teeth. Eyes half rolling, you nodded, entering the doors as he closed and locked it behind you.

Steve moved fast, throwing his jacket over a couch that lay in the middle of the giant room, toeing off his shoes by its side. You stood in place, not sure what to do as your boss made his way around his home.

You took note of the place, not picturing that he would live in a place like this. It was modern, with a touch of old school fashion. Retro furniture, expensive nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. However, not a touch of life, no personal pictures, no sign of family, or anything personal that may shine light on what type of person he truly was.

You stepped in further to the place, watching as Steve made his way to a cabinet in his kitchen. Observing him over the breakfast bar, you saw into the open kitchen, watched him as he grabbed a rocks glass and a bottle of something pushed far back into a cabinet.

He continued on the phone, placing it on speaker as he began to open the bottle. He struggled at first, face turning up as his hands twisted on the cap.

Slowly making your way around the room, you glanced around, expecting him to yell at you for even being here, despite inviting you in.

"Steve," you heard the voice on the other line say. His eyes drifted towards the phone, pouring a hefty shot. "All I'm saying is, I miss you. And care for you. I love you. I want you to be okay today, alright?"

Steve grunted in response, not noticing your proximity to him. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to gain his attention.

The woman on the phone waited for more of a response. Once it was clear she wasn't going to get one, she sighed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Yeah sure," his tone was rude, eyes boring into the glass of dark liquid that sat in front of him. His fingers danced at the rim.

"Eddie would've wanted you to come."

Steve's body language immediately stiffened, finger moving to hang up the phone before throwing back the shot of liquor. His face grimaced at the taste, slamming the glass back on the table.

You didn't know what to say, looking anywhere but at your boss.

"Fuck, I forgot you were even here," he suddenly said, hand running through his hair. His hand was on his hip, eyes glossy as he looked at you. You chewed at your bottom lip, nodding as he stared at you. He pointed to the alcohol, shrugging. "Drink?"

Declining, your head shook. "I don't drink, sir."

"Ahh," he said, grabbing the glass and bottle as he headed towards the couch. "Good girl."

He threw himself down on the furniture, exhaling loudly as he stretched out. His eyes were closed as you stood across the room.

"Hey, I-I think I'm gonna go," you said, beginning to walk towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As you crossed the room, Steve's voice called out to you. Your movements stopped, turning on your heel to look at him.

"Stay?" He asked you, eyes huge as they looked in your direction. You took note of his features, blinking at him as he awaited your response. Your boss was approaching his 40's, however, in this moment, he looked just like a little kid. Pictures of him in his teen years you had seen on the Internet were pushed to the forefront of your mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Harrington," you muttered, wanting to leave the scene.

His eyes fell to the floor briefly before he spoke out, "Steve."

"Huh?" You were confused, this sudden change in his attitude.

"You can call me Steve," he said, shifting his body as he relaxed into the couch. "We've known each other for a few years now, figured we should might as well be on a first name basis."

Fighting back the eye roll, you were reminded in the ways your boss had made your life into chaos.

"I bet you a million dollars, you don't even know my name, sir."

His gaze softened, laughing out loud as your hard exterior slowly came back.

"Yn." He muttered, smile dancing at his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, stuck between dashing out of his apartment or staying and seeing what type of Steve Harrington you were going to get today.

"I figure I should apologize for the way I've acted today," he said, turning forward as his gaze left your way. You didn't know why, but your feet followed it, walking closer so you could sit next to him. Lowering your self on the couch, you felt self conscious, like he was going to snap any second.

You snorted, "Today?"

He was staring at the bottle of alcohol in front of him, smile still on his face. Laughing at your comment, he shrugged.

"I have been a dick, haven't I?" He whispered, shaking his head as the smile slowly dropped from his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes unfocused as he stared in front of himself. "Such a fucking dick."

You didn't know why, but you felt the need to comfort the man. He was clearly going through something at the moment, if the look alone on his face was any tell.

"Hey, not too bad of one," you wanted to reach out to grab him.

"Don't lie," he laughed, head turning your way. His eyes met yours, deep brown staring into the color of yours. You noticed moles dotting his face, slight lines of aging covering his features. He was still youthful, his eyes telling the tale of a once young boy who was within. "I've been terrible. And you don't deserve that."

A pang hit your heart, feeling the weight of his words. You didn't really deserve his treatment. No matter if he paid you or not.

He continued his words, eyes staring past you. "And yet here I am, sitting here with my assistant. Drinking for the first time in years." A laugh bubbled out of him, hands running down his face as he leaned further back into the couch. "You know I'm supposed to be in Indiana right now?"

You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt him. Making yourself comfortable, you took off your shoes, slipping your feet underneath yourself.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Indiana, it's the 20th anniversary of, uhm," his voice cracked, eyes welling up with a tear that was blinked back. "It's the anniversary of one of my friend's dying, and I'm not there."

Breath catching in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, sir," you muttered, hand reaching out to rest at his thigh. The touch was inappropriate, but so was this interaction you could say.

He looked down at your hand, watching your thumb as it brushed over his jeans.

"It's okay," he responded, eyes finding yours again. "It's been so long."

You nodded, eyes scanning his face as he forced the corners of his mouth to be turned into a smile. You saw right through it, recognizing the pain of a lost loved one straight through. "I don't think that matters."

His face dropped, sincerity crossing his features as he dipped to glance at your hand once more. Silence over took the two of you, the faint sounds of the streets of LA below you, Steve's staggered breathing as he willed himself not to cry. You were patient, finding comfort in the air as he found his words.

"We were all so young, and it feels so long ago, almost like it doesn't exist anymore," he finally said, voice even. "But I know it does. I just have to face it, I've been running from it ever since it happened."

He gestured to his surroundings, and the puzzle clicked into place. This fame and jerk persona that Steve carried himself in, hid the real him. He ran from all of his problems, like anyone else would, especially when dealing with something as traumatic like he had.

You didn't know the details, didn't care to ask, since it seemed to affect him so much. All you knew was that person who had passed so long ago did matter to him, in ways that you couldn't imagine.

Letting him continue his mumblings about the person he used to know, you found out that his name had been Eddie, the one you heard on the phone before. Robin, long time best friend of his, was trying to get him to come out to reconnect with everyone, he hadn't seen much of them since the 'accident', as he had called it. He kept in touch with everyone over the phone, but seeing them in person was a whole different story. It opened up old wounds that he was afraid of what it might bring out.

The story was slightly confusing, him mentioning something about how they all had nearly lost their lives, details that would leave you wondering what this man had gone through. None of this information was available about him in the public, his childhood always being a vague story that never connected.

"So you have kids then?" You questioned, confused on how you never picked up on this detail. There had to have been at least five of them, names you had never heard before now.

Steve laughed suddenly, shaking his head as his hand rested on your own thigh. The two of you were much closer now, as his story unfolded. Your thighs were touching, each other's hands on resting upon each other, mere inches away from your faces.

"No, I don't have any. I guess, I should stop calling them kids now, you know?" His laugh was low in his throat. "They have kids of their own at this point, so they're far from it."

"Oh..." You were dumbfounded, all of this information being at a loss to you. You weren't here to understand, just here to listen.

"You know what, I'm sorry," he suddenly said, removing his hand from your leg. You wanted to whine at the absence, cold replacing his warm touch. "Maybe you should go, actually. This is pretty, uhm..."

"Unprofessional?" You supplied, inching closer as your boss sat there, wide eyed looking at you. In the dark light of his apartment, you could see the way his brown eyes glimmered at you. "I guess we're even then, me calling you a twat earlier."

Steve cackled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the events earlier.

"I knew you said that!"

You blushed, fighting back your own smile.

"It's not my fault, you were acting like one." Your lips pursed together, observing the older man in front of you.

Silence crept over you, the first break in conversation since his phone call ended earlier. Steve stared at you, eyes darting over your features as his teeth scraped over his bottom lip. You felt shy under his gaze, not knowing what to think of the moment as your boss was closer in proximity than he had ever been in your life.

"Can I make it up to you?"

His voice was low, and you were nodding before you even knew what he meant. Grabbing your cheek in his hand, the man leaned forward, capturing your lips into his. The gasp in your throat was lost in his mouth, a shuttering moan coming out instead.

His lips were soft, slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you leaned into the kiss, moving your hand so it rest at the curve of his hip, belt loop curling in your fingers.

He tasted of whiskey, the remnants of the few shots he had earlier lingering on his tongue. Steve pulled away slightly, muttering, "This okay?" against your lips as you nodded, pulling him in by his hair with your other hand.

Your breath grew more shallow as the kiss continued, leaning back as Steve began to tower over you. He shifted in his seat, covering your body with his own as he began to push you back into the couch. His figure was large over yours, scent of vanilla and cedar nearly suffocating you.

With your back flush against the couch, Steve removed himself from your lips, pressing a slight kiss against your jaw. You arched into the touch, palms running over the tight muscle of his back.

"S-steve," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips kissed over your neck. Each press of his mouth sent fireworks down your spine.

He returned his lips to yours, moving with a passion that was lacking previously, confidence replacing the apprehension he once felt.

Your legs spread, inviting him to nestle in between, the thick material of his jeans rubbing against your own. A bulge was present, the thought of what lay underneath sending goosebumps over your skin.

Steve was lost in the kiss, his mouth nipping at yours as he reached down to unbutton your pants, slipping a hand to run over the front of your panties.

"W-wait," you muttered, grabbing his wrist as you pulled away from the kiss. He was confused, mouth red and swollen. His fingers pressed at your covered clit, a small shot of pleasure running through you.

"What's wrong, Yn?" The hand connected to his elbow that propped him up, ran through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. Concern crossed his features, searching your face as doubt crossed it.

"I just, uhh," you felt shy, avoiding his eye contact as the words stumbled out. "I've never really done this before?"

His eyes bulged out, sitting up suddenly as he leaned over you. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead. Way to ruin the moment.

"Oh," he breathed, eyes wide as he scanned you. "We don't-- fuck, sorry. I'm so, uh, wow."

He stood up suddenly, leaving you laying on your back as embarrassment colored your cheeks. You didn't know what to say as the older man panicked.

"Maybe, uh, maybe this was a bad idea," he shook his head, hand reaching down to palm at the front of his pants. Your eyes followed his hand, noticing the prominent bulge.

You spoke out, shaking your head as you didn't make any effort to move. The turn of events tonight made you realize how much you did want the man who stood before you.

"No, we can, it's okay," you said, reaching out to grab his hand that hung by his side. He looked down at your grasp before bringing his eyes to meet yours. "It's alright."

He hesitated, sputtering over something to say.

"Steve, it's okay," you pulled him down, his knees straddling the sides of your hips as he reluctantly settled into the couch. His eyes ran over your body, lingering at the spot where your pants were unbuttoned, cotton panties exposed.

"A-are you sure?" He questioned, moving to lean back down over you. You nodded, leaning up on your elbows to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth, palm caressing the front of his shirt.

"I want to, it's fine."

You knew it was now or never, this moment with your boss being an opportunity that you couldn't have passed up. You always had a crush on him growing up, the face of Hollywood you would see in your teen magazines, posters covering the room of your friends. Working for him would've never had you imagining that it would lead to this moment.

Steve took control of the situation, kissing down your neck as his hand returned between your legs, pants thrown across the room somewhere. It had happened so fast, you barely noticed the cool air that pulled goosebumps from your skin.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" He muttered, freshly shaved stubble prickling against your chin. You could barely get out a moan as your underwear was pulled down your legs, catching at the crook of your ankles.

You felt his fingers brush over your folds, pressing lightly at the slick entrance. His thumb rubbed in small circles over your small bundle of nerves, an eye-rolling feeling that spread your legs apart. His fingers pushed inside, his own moan coming out over yours.

The feeling of the intrusion had you panting, spreading your legs wider while his thick fingers worked you.

"M-more," you begged, throwing your head back as his fingers found a rhythm. He stretched you out over two fingers at this point, thumb collecting slick as it rubbed over your clit.

Steve's fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot deep inside. The look on his face was one of admiration, mouth slack as he looked down at you falling apart under his touch.

"That's okay?" His voice was husky, deep with arousal as your hips began to move in time with his fingers. Your orgasm was approaching, hips moving on their own accord as you chased that high.

"God, yes, Steve."

Pushing your shirt up past your bra, Steve gaped at the sight before him, your fingers dipping inside your bra to toy at your own breasts.

"You look so perfect, angel," he muttered, leaning down to capture your lips into his as you fell apart. That white blinding of your orgasm crept in, starting at the base of your spine and blossoming through your entire body. Against his mouth, you shouted out, squeezing your eyes shut as he fingered you through the high.

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, legs spasming from the shocks of the orgasm. You hissed at the over stimulation, Steve pressing into your clit one last time before removing himself from you.

You felt shy suddenly, the haze from the orgasm clearing as you realized you had just done unimaginable things with your boss. Seeming to read your mind, Steve pressed small kisses around the perimeter of your face.

"It's alright," he said, hovering over you. Against your thigh, you could feel his bulge rub against you. "How are you feeling, good?"

You nodded, words at a loss in your throat. You reached up to place a hand on his neck, the other at his waist as you played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes fluttered close briefly before glancing down at where you were slightly tugging his shirt up.

He made eye contact with you, chewing on his bottom lip. "I need words, angel. Gotta make sure everything is 100% okay, okay?"

"I'm alright, Steve," you gasped, looking down where your own hand rubbed at the exposed part of his abdomen. You needed more, wanted to feel him all over you. You began to pull his shirt over his body, watching as he glanced down at you with hooded eyes. "Just need more of you."

He slowly nodded, sitting back on his knees as he unbuttoned his own pants and slid them down his legs. You giggled at him as he struggled to get them off, the smoothness he had previously disappearing as he nearly toppled off the couch.

You pulled your own shirt and bra off of you, dropping them on the floor next to the couch. "Nice own, old man," you laughed, returning to your spot against the couch.

He frowned at you, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout. "Heeyy, I still got it."

You were left breathless, the laughter disappearing at the tip of your tongue as his figure returned to cover your body. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, the wetness pooling at the head leaving you gasping.

Steve reached down to rub his cock against the length of your cunt, spreading the slick all over as you arched into him.

"Fuuckk, Steve." You hooked your ankle over his hip, warmness pooling in your belly at the thought of him being inside you. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your nipples as they shook with each moan you gave.

"You sure about this, Yn?" He asked, leaning down to dart his tongue over the skin of your breast. It sent shivers down your spine, another wave of heat rushing to your core. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"'M not gonna regret this," you gasped, feeling the way the head of his cock slightly pushed at you. It burned, fuck, he was big.

The slight intrusion had you gripping at his back, leaving crescent moon marks in the skin. Your breath came out ragged, a whine scratching at the back of your throat.

Steve grunted at you, pushing in slowly as he buried his head into your shoulder. He stopped every few inches, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back to urge to fuck back into you full force.

Being an all new feeling, you couldn't help but mewl at every burn of the stretch, a fullness you had never experienced before.

He pressed to the hilt, hips flush against yours as Steve gasped for air in tune with you. He pulled his head back to make eye contact with you, forehead resting against yours. You felt the slight grinding of his hips against yours, the fullness becoming too much as you were stretched over him.

"You gotta bare with me, baby." The nickname had you moaning, fingers reaching down to dig at the plumpness of his ass. You could barely keep your eyes open, senses overwhelmed with Steve. "'S been a while for me."

Nodding, you gasped as he reared his hips back before they stuttered into you again. The movement sent a wave of slick between your thighs again, pleasure blinding you.

He found his rhythm, hips fucking into you slowly, languidly as you fell apart beneath him. You rocked with every movement of his hips, hands running over the tan skin of his body above you.

Finding his lips, you moaned against his mouth, savoring the feeling that was building up in your abdomen as the two of you moved in sync.

Steve gave you words of affirmation, hips drilling into you over and over as his cock brushed over your deep bundle of nerves. Bliss approached you once more, wetness dripping all over him as you were brought to that high again.

"Gonna cum, Steve," you whispered against his mouth, back arching into him. He reached down between you, fingers toying at your clit as they began to rub in small circles.

"Cum for me baby," he breathed, voice low as your eyes rolled back. His voice brought you over the edge, high shout escaping your lips as that pleasure took over you again.

As he fucked your through your orgasm, his own approached, hips losing their rhythm as you felt his release deep inside you. A low groan of his came out, a breathy fuck being the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes.

Your body felt light, head foggy as you came down from your orgasm. It was pure bliss what you felt, heart pounding in your chest as sleep took over you.

You shot out of bed, frantically searching for your phone as you realized the sun was creeping through the curtains. Crisp, white sheets were pooled around you, swallowing you up whole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered, trying to search for your device in the darkness of the room. The dark curtains were drawn, only allowing a sliver of light in, but enough for you to realize how late in the morning it was.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, anxiety crept over you, realizing you weren't in your room. A tossing figure lay next to you, his body half covered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, everything from last night came crashing back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, Yn, what's wrong?" Steve's voice was groggy, as he blinked in the darkness of the room. He glanced towards the curtains and then to you, noticing the way you covered your frame with the corner of the sheet.

"What time is it?" You half shouted, looking on the bedside table for your phone. Steve was no help, slowly stretching out his limbs as he yawned.

"Too fucking early for you to be that loud," he muttered, sitting up on his elbows. The sheet pooled around his waist, exposing his bare abdomen and a deep V that cut below his waist.

You quickly looked away, blush deepening on your face. "We have to go, Ste-Mr. Harrington. We're gonna be in so much trouble."

You heard him chuckle at you, sighing as he relaxed once again in the bed. His arms circled your waist, pulling you down into him as you continued to panic. He lay behind you, your head resting on his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "Called in today, came down with something apparently."

You shook your head, resting your hands on his where they rested on your stomach. "Can you even do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He laughed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. The anxiety that built up in your spine disappeared at his touch, the familiarity of his body replacing it. You turned in his arms, now chest to chest with the man.

His eyes were closed, sleepiness still evident over his features.

"Are you going to fire me?" You whispered at him, watching as his brow furrowed before he squinted open his eyes at you.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" He seemed genuinely confused at your question, hand rubbing at your waist. Relief took stake in your chest.

"I slept with my boss last night," you laughed at yourself, voice dropping even lower as you saw a smirk cross his face. He was smug, shaking his head with laughter as you playfully slapped at his chest.

"Pretty sure I'm the one with a lawsuit pending if anything," he said, laughter dying as you placed a small peck to his lips.

As you pulled away, he leaned into it further, tongue darting out to lick at yours. A wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He towered over you, mouth nipping at you as you sighed into the kiss. The two of you moved in sync, you moving onto your back as Steve leaned over your figure. A breathy moan escaped your lips, only to be cut off by his phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, separating himself from you as he reached for it on his side of the bed. He answered it quickly, realizing it was his publicist as he placed it on speaker. "What d'you need, man?"

His lips returned to yours briefly, before kissing down your neck. The sheets were slowly pulled off of you as he made his way down, nipping at your chest, then your nipple, and soft kisses pressed to your stomach.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his publicist droned on about some appearance he had to make in the next week. Steve was staring up at you, making small confirmation 'mhm's' in response to the phone call. A coy smile was on the corners of your mouth as you looked down at him wide eyed.

'Stop' you mouthed through gritted teeth. He nipped at your hip bone in protest, shaking his head at you.

You couldn't tell if it was Steve's mouth pressing to your heat or the next word's of his publicist that made your stomach drop.

"While we're at it, Steve, how about we talk how Page Six has pictures of you with a mysterious somebody in your apartment building?" They grumbled, voice staticy as it came through the phone. You felt Steve smirk against you, tongue lapping between your legs. "Aren't we a little too old to bring people back to your own place like that?"

A moan escaped you as you gripped at his hair. Steve looked up at you, wide eyed as he reached up to slap a hand across your mouth. 'Shhh', he mouthed, his own laugh threatening to spill out as his publicist's voice faltered at the noise.

"St-steve?" It said, apprehension in the tone. "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Really, man?"

Steve laughed as his hand remained over your mouth, muffling the sounds of your own laughter. They would recognize it if they heard it. He grabbed the phone from where it lay abandon, speaking into it as his thumb hovered the 'end call'.

"Something came up, gotta take care of it," he grimaced at you as you licked his hand. "Bye!"

He hung up right as the voice protested, tossing his phone aside as he leaned over you once again. His long hair hung in his face, eyes raking over your naked body.

"Now... where were we?"

an: I had to sneak in a line from All of Us Strangers because that movie was so moving. If you know, you know. I promise one of these days, I won't make Steve an asshole right off the bat, he'll be lovable.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #fanfic #my writing #writing my dark fantasies and praying they come true to my alt universe self

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punkshort · 28 days

Text

i know who you are | 5. the dinner

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Everything seems perfect until it all unravels. Emotions come to a head and the big lie is revealed.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, alcohol use, eating, flirting, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity, one use of 'daddy', big ol' emotional argument (lots of mean and hurtful things get said)

WC: 9.5K

Series Masterlist

By some miracle, you didn't end up getting sick, although it took most people in town a full week to recover from the flu. The infirmary was packed every day and Nick regularly expressed his endless gratitude that you chose to work for him. Maria and Tommy isolated as best they could in their home out of fear their daughter would get sick. When the townspeople slowly began to recover, they were itching to do something, so they decided to host a dinner.

One thing you hadn't done in ages was bake. You used to do it often, something you found rather soothing and rewarding long before the world went to shit, so you decided to make something to bring to dinner. After exploring your pantry, you discovered you had the right ingredients to make a simple pie crust, so you got to work mixing and rolling out the dough, getting so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear Joel walk through the front door.

When he heard you working away in the kitchen, he walked softly towards the entryway and leaned against the frame to admire you. He crossed his arms and smiled to himself when he saw the bits of flour smeared across your cheeks and your hair a little disheveled, your appearance not a concern to you as you worked.

It was the sweetest thing he had seen in a long time. He almost felt bad when you suddenly sensed his presence and looked up, disrupting your flow.

"Don't mind me," he said with a smirk before strolling over to the table to sit. "Whatcha up to?"

"Making a pie," you told him as you pinched some flour between your fingers and scattered it over the counter. You picked up the sticky ball of dough and sprinkled that with a bit of flour, as well, before grabbing the rolling pin. "Thought it would be nice to bring something with us tonight."

Joel nodded and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. "That's nice of you," he said before taking a bite, "I'm sure they don't expect us to bring anythin'. They're just bored outta their minds and lookin' for someone to play with their kid for a while."

"Hey! I need those!" you scolded when you heard the crunch. He paused his chewing and looked down at the apple in his hand before stretching his arm out to you with a grin.

"Here you go," he said, mouth full. You laughed and shook your head before focusing on the dough once again.

"Keep it," you said, "I'll still have enough."

He leaned back in his chair and watched you diligently roll the dough out until you achieved the level of thickness you desired and then laid it gently in a buttered pie pan.

"Can you help me peel?" you asked when you came over to grab the bowl from the table, and he couldn't resist reaching out to dust away the flour from your cheek. You looked at him in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"'Course I'll help," he said, standing up to grab two knives from the drawer. After giving yourself a moment to recover from his unexpected touch, you joined him at the counter, placing the bowl between you both as you began to peel in a comfortable silence. It had been almost two weeks since you saw Ben outside the tailor, and although you always looked for him whenever you walked to and from work, you never crossed paths with him again. You had been hoping to corner him to try to get more information before confronting Joel, but you had no such luck. So, with a deep breath, you cleared your throat and focused on your apple before speaking.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he replied, his brows pinching together as he carefully worked his knife around the apple in the palm of his hand.

"Can I ask you a question?" you asked as your pulse began to thrum faster in your throat.

"Sure," he said, still laser focused on his task.

"Who are the Fireflies?"

His hand slipped and he dropped the apple and knife, pulling the pad of his thumb into his mouth with a hiss. You gasped when you saw a few drops of dark red blood on the cutting board and put your knife down before grabbing a somewhat clean towel and handing it to him.

"Is it bad?" you asked, taking a step forward to try and see his injury before he wrapped it in the towel. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'll live," he said, studying the cut for a second before applying pressure again.

Still, you rushed to the linen closet to grab the first aid kit and brought it downstairs. "Rinse it under the water," you instructed him before opening the bag and rifling around. He did as he was told and watched you pluck out a bandage and a small bottle of antiseptic. "Show me," you said, and he held his hand out to you so you could examine the cut. He studied you up close while your attention was focused on his thumb, taking in every feature on your perfect face and inhaling your familiar, comforting scent while you bandaged him up. If this was what it took to get you close to him, then he was ready to injure himself every damn day.

"You're good at that," he murmured, flexing his thumb when you were all done. "Learnin' a lot from Nick?"

You packed up the first aid kit, avoiding his heated gaze. "Yeah, I guess so," you said, turning back to your apples. Ever since Joel caught the flu and you helped nurse him back to health, it felt like there was a shift in the air between you. He was more brazen with his touch, like when he wiped the flour from your cheek, and while you never asked him not to touch you, your feelings for him were complicated. Until you could figure it out, you had been trying your best to not allow yourself to get caught in his orbit.

It was proving to be more difficult than you expected.

"Why don't you go sit down, I can finish these up," you said, your eyes cast down on the apples. You felt him regard you silently for a moment before he pushed off the counter and went back to his spot at the kitchen table. It was obvious what he was doing. It was the exact opposite of what you were doing. He was trying to create a charged moment, and you were trying to avoid them.

"You didn't answer my question," you said, and his energy immediately shifted.

"Where'd you hear 'bout the Fireflies? From Ellie?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. You looked up at him, confused.

"Ellie? No," you replied, shaking your head. "I ran into Ben a few days after our visit. He thought you had already told me about them and seemed a little skittish when I didn't know who they were."

You watched him closely, refusing to look away as he tried to mask his anger, but you could still see it. His jaw tensed and his uninjured hand clenched into a fist in his lap while you waited for an answer.

"So?" you prodded, cocking your head to the side. His nostrils flared for a second before he took a deep breath and turned his head away.

"The Fireflies were the group the three of you had joined before comin' to Jackson," he began. You tried to focus on peeling your apples but you were working incredibly slow, not wanting to miss a single word. "You were with 'em for a couple years. They had a decent setup, kept you all safe. Better than the QZ."

"Okay," you said slowly, picking up another apple. "So it was a community like this one?"

He huffed and shook his head, "Not exactly. More like an army. They're a revolutionary group. They rose up against the military and took over QZs with the promise of givin' control back to the people, but..." he trailed off and scratched his beard. "Wasn't all that simple. They killed alotta people in the process, and in the end, civilians still suffered. Didn't end up matterin' who was in control when both sides were just as violent."

"Oh," you said softly, setting your knife down, "so I joined because of what happened to my family? Because the military killed them? And then I ended up killing innocent people, anyway?"

Joel shrugged and stood up. "Like I said, we all made decisions the best we could with what we knew at the time. You didn't know any better. Nobody did."

"Did you join them, too?" you asked.

"No," he said, pressing both palms flat against the counter as he looked at you.

"So why did Ben seem to think telling me about the Fireflies would cause a problem with us?"

His mouth pressed into a thin line and you saw the suppressed rage flicker across his eyes again. "Fireflies ain't exactly well received by most people," he said, "lotta people here had family that was hurt or killed. Innocent bystanders caught in the middle of a war they didn't start."

You swallowed nervously, apples long forgotten as you braced yourself for your next question. "Did the Fireflies hurt someone you loved?"

Joel's gaze dropped to his hands and he clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell you. He should have just fucking spit it out and told you everything, but at the last second, he chickened out.

"No."

And you may not have known him as well as you did before the accident, but you knew him well enough now to be able to tell when he was lying. You tried to hide your disappointment by picking your knife back up and getting to work.

"Are there others?" you asked him, and he lifted his head up, "other former Fireflies who live here?"

"Aside from you three? Just Tommy."

Your jaw dropped in surprise and your eyes snapped up to him once again. "Tommy?"

"Mhmm, just for a little while. You didn't know each other before Jackson," he said, anticipating your next question. "Fireflies are a big group. Spread out all over the country."

"Oh," you said softly, looking back down at your half peeled apples which were slowly becoming brown on the edges. You began peeling again, faster now, as you thought about everything he just said while he watched you carefully from the other side of the counter. You weren't sure what else to say. It felt like he was telling you the truth, but you still had a hunch he was leaving something out.

"Y'know, it's a miracle I didn't eat half that damn pie before we got here," Joel said teasingly as you walked up the porch steps to Tommy and Maria's house. "Whole house smells like Christmas now. Drove me crazy all afternoon."

You smiled and smoothed down the blue blouse you found tucked away in your closet. It wasn't a top you could envision yourself working in, it looked a bit too nice for that, so you thought dinner would be a perfect time to wear it, combined with a dark pair of jeans that were relatively clean and only slightly frayed on the bottom. At the time, you thought it was cute when Joel came downstairs with his hair slicked back and his flannel tucked into his jeans for once, but when you walked into Tommy and Maria's and found the house to be filled with four married couples from around town, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"I didn't realize anyone else would be here," you murmured quietly next to Joel as you slid off your coats.

"He mentioned they may invite a few others but I didn't think this many," he told you, taking your coat and hanging it up before looking around. They had two tables covered in linen pushed together in their dining room which was alight with candles and sprigs of pine and holly spread around the middle, giving the room with a warm and romantic atmosphere. You swallowed nervously and all of the sudden, the evening felt too much like a date.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy's voice rang out from the kitchen, startling you out of your reverie. "Glad you could make it," he said, tugging Joel into a hug before giving you a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Um, here," you said, holding out the pie, "didn't want to come empty handed," you explained with a little smile. Tommy's eyes lit up when he took the pan from you and gave the pie a quick sniff.

"Damn, smells good, Sugar," he told you, his cheeks already rosy from the liquor he had been working on before you arrived. He shot Joel a playful look as he headed into the kitchen, handing Maria the dessert. "Your girl can bake, Joel. Lucky man."

The tips of your ears went hot and you looked away uncomfortably before Joel could catch your eye.

"I'll get us a couple drinks," Joel said, ignoring Tommy's comment, much to your relief. "What'dya want?"

You glanced around the room and what the other women were drinking before shrugging and suggesting wine. He followed Tommy over to the living room where they kept their liquor locked up and away from their toddler, who was gleefully playing with another woman you didn't recognize. Popping your head into the kitchen, you spotted Maria all by herself working on dinner.

"Maria," you said with a smile, and she turned around with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, I'm dying here, can you help me?"

"Of course," you said, rolling up your sleeves. "What do you need?"

She put you to work right away, chopping up vegetables and dumping them into boiling water before helping her thicken a sauce she was making for some pasta. You were just about to taste test the product when Joel and Tommy joined you in the kitchen with the drink that he promised.

"Smells so fuckin' good in here," Tommy said loudly before taking a generous sip of whiskey and giving Maria a quick peck on the lips. Joel put your wine glass near you on the counter and you shot him a thankful smile before bringing a spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. You winced and scrunched up your nose and Joel chuckled.

"It's missing something," you explained, putting the spoon back down as you examined the spices available to you while Maria was instructing Tommy on doling out the appetizers.

"Lemme try," he said, rounding the corner to stand next to you. You handed him the spoon and he held up his whiskey. "Hands are full," he told you teasingly, and you rolled your eyes with a grin before dipping the spoon back into the sauce and lifting it to his mouth. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon, closing his eyes and making a soft noise at the taste. Your knees suddenly felt weak and your face felt hot as you struggled to compose yourself before he caught you.

He opened his eyes slowly and ran his tongue over his upper lip to capture the remnants of the sauce and you had to resist the urge to swipe your thumb over his mustache to gather the rest. It made your breath hitch in your throat and you forced yourself to look away, mentally cursing your body's reaction to him.

"Lemon," he said huskily, then took a sip from his glass while still staring down at you. Your eyes drifted up to his and you saw that look again. The one that made you feel too many things at once: nervousness, excitement, pressure, confusion. So you took a deep breath and squeezed past him, having no choice but to brush up against his chest.

"You're right. It needs lemon," you said, finding one in the mess on Maria's counter and slicing it in half before squeezing it generously over the sauce. Joel leaned against the counter, one arm caging you in from behind as you worked. You tried to ignore how close he was but you could feel his breath on your skin and it was causing your pulse to race. Fortunately, Maria came to your rescue.

"How's it going?" she asked, and Joel pushed off the counter, stepping back to give you both some room.

"Good, I think the sauce is done," you told her, and after she gave it a little taste, her eyes lit up.

"So good!" she said, clearly pleased. You felt your cheeks heat up before gesturing towards Joel.

"Thank Joel. He thought of the lemon."

Maria shot Joel a smile and thanked him as he tipped his glass in her direction before taking another sip. "Happy to help, ladies," he said.

"Go enjoy the party, I got it from here," Maria told you, shooing you away.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"Yes, I'm sure! I'm just going to plate everything and we're good to go. Help yourself to some appetizers before they're all gone," she said, turning her back on you as she started pulling down serving platters.

You picked up your wine and took a sip, hoping to quell some of your nerves as you let Joel lead you into the living room where the party was in full swing. Tommy had his daughter balancing on his shoulders as he talked to a couple men, their wives at the other end of the room in the middle of a lively conversation. You chewed your lip, glancing back and forth before you took another sip and looked up at Joel.

"Guess I'll go see what's got them all worked up," you told him, nodding your head in the direction of the other women.

"You sure?" he asked with a frown. "Don't want you feelin' uncomfortable. We can stick together if y'want."

You shook your head and stepped away. "I'm fine," you told him before forcing yourself to join the other women. As you approached, you gave the women a friendly wave to catch their attention and they beckoned you towards them with open arms. They all seemed to be around your age range, give or take, and very friendly as they took the time to re-introduce themselves to you. You politely listened to them talk about their kids or jobs while you sipped your wine and nodded along. When three of the women became engrossed in a story about their children and school, you felt yourself begin to zone out. The girl standing next to you, Hannah, caught your eye and smiled.

"Do you have any kids?" you asked her, and she shook her head.

"Not yet. I don't think we're ready, you know?" she said, glancing over your shoulder at her husband. "But one day I think we will. How about you and Joel? What are your plans?" she asked, then her eyes went wide with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. That was a dumb question, you probably don't... ah, I'm such an idiot," she said, and you laughed.

"No, you're not, it's fine," you assured her as her cheeks began to flush.

"I guess I just keep forgetting about your accident. That was so rude of me," she said, "I see you guys together all the time and it seems so normal."

You glanced over your shoulder at Joel, watching for a moment as he laughed heartily at something one of the other men said. "Yeah," you told her, turning back around, "I can see why you'd think that."

Her gaze drifted between you and Joel for a moment before she lowered her voice and took a step further away from the other women. "So you still don't remember anything, huh?"

You shook your head sadly. "Nothing. At this point, I'm not expecting anything to come back. I'm just trying to start over."

She nodded solemnly and took a sip from her wine. "How's it going with you two?" she asked, tilting her chin in Joel's direction. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Same old questions, different person.

"Okay, I guess. He's been incredibly patient," you said, "but I think he is still holding out hope that my memory might come back and we'll just pick up right where we left off."

Hannah gave you a sympathetic look right as Maria approached with a big smile stretched across her face. "Dinner is served!" she announced to the room before bending down and stretching her arms out for her daughter.

Everyone began to scatter as couples rejoined and headed towards the dimly lit dining room. Joel appeared by your side, his hand hovering over your lower back as you waited for the other couples to take their seats.

"Havin' a good time?" he murmured, and you gave him a tight smile before nodding. Joel pulled out one of the two remaining chairs for you and you whispered your thanks when you sat down, then he pushed it back in before taking his own seat. He relaxed and stretched his arm across the back of your chair while he listened with amusement to Tommy drunkenly telling a story that had carried over from the living room.

"The table is beautiful, Maria," you told her, leaning away from Joel a bit. "It's so cozy and warm, you really outdid yourself."

She smiled as she bounced her little girl on her knee. "Thanks. We were just itching to do something, you know? We got a little cabin fever, I think."

You felt Joel's thumb brush lightly against your spine, making you shiver. But when you glanced over at him, he was still caught up in listening to Tommy and you wondered if those little gestures were intentional or if it was muscle memory.

Once everyone began to eat, Joel dropped his arm from your chair and you found yourself missing the warmth that radiated from him, confusing yourself even more. Sometimes you just wanted to hit your head against the wall and rattle your memories loose so you could stop feeling so conflicted. If you were this confused, you couldn't imagine what Joel was feeling. Although, at that moment, he seemed to be perfectly content as he stood up with Tommy to get another drink.

"Y'want any more?" Joel asked, nodding to your glass but you shook your head.

"Maybe later," you said, and when he caught your eye he gave you a quick wink before following Tommy back into the living room.

"So, how's it going at the infirmary? Still like it?" Maria asked, drawing your attention back to her.

"Yeah, I do, actually. That was a good idea, I've been meaning to thank you," you said, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin. "It feels good to stay busy and I'm learning a lot."

"Well, Nick always speaks so highly of you. Especially after that nasty flu worked its way through town. He said you were a godsend," Maria told you while simultaneously handing her daughter a steamed carrot.

"She was. Worked her tail off all week then had to deal with me when she got home," Joel said as he sat back down with a soft grunt. You smiled at him, grateful for the compliment.

"If he's anything like his brother when he's sick then I'm sure you've earned sainthood status," Maria said to you, making everyone laugh.

"Hey, what're you sayin' 'bout me down there?" Tommy slurred with a grin from the other end of the table. You were fairly certain Maria answered him with some sharp remark which made the table laugh again, but you couldn't exactly remember because Joel dropped his hand to rest on your knee and you suddenly couldn't think straight. Your skin felt hot under his touch, even through your jeans, and you could have sworn the whole room could hear how loudly your heart was pounding in your chest, so you anxiously grabbed your wine glass and finished the rest in one gulp, hoping it would steady your nerves.

You could have asked him to move his hand. You could have made an excuse, gotten up and used the bathroom, but you didn't. You remained perfectly still, allowing his hand to rest on your leg as you tried to focus on the conversation at the table. Because although your mind was saying one thing, your body was always reacting differently.

If you had known what would have ended up happening that night, you would have done something in that moment. Maybe if you had, it would have changed everything.

Instead, you sat there and didn't say a word. You just politely listened to everyone talk with Joel's hand still on your leg while your body and mind waged a war nobody could see.

When Maria stood to hand off her daughter to Tommy and clear the table, you joined her, finally ending Joel's grip on you. The other women stood while the men attempted to help but got shooed into the living room. When all the ladies were alone in the kitchen, Maria pulled out a jar of apple flavored moonshine that she told you all quietly she was hiding from Tommy because it was her favorite before passing it around for everyone to have a taste.

It was strong. Each of you had to stifle your coughs into your hands, which erupted into giggles and eventually caught the attention of the men, so you all did your best to distract them after they curiously poked their heads into the kitchen so Maria could hide the jar once again.

In retrospect, the alcohol didn't do you any favors. Your head was swimming a little by the time dessert was served and you found yourself inadvertently leaning into Joel's shoulder as everyone complimented your pie and he watched you adoringly while you waved off the praise.

The food was amazing, but combined with the drinks, you found your eyelids growing heavy as the party moved back into the living room and Maria took her daughter to bed.

"I think I'm going to get some air," you told Joel while everyone else got comfortable.

"You alright?" he asked, examining your face closely. You nodded.

"Just getting tired," you explained as you took a step towards the door, but he immediately put his glass down.

"Why didn't you say so? We can go home."

"No, it's okay-"

"You've been workin' so hard lately. You need your rest. Go get your things and I'll tell Tommy we're headin' out," he said, refusing to hear another word. And as much as you didn't want to tear him away from the party, you had to agree with him. The past couple weeks were physically draining and it definitely seemed like the exhaustion was catching up with you.

Once Joel announced your departure and everybody bid you good night, you each grabbed your coats and slid on your boots before heading outside. The brisk night air was a shock to the system and it helped wake you up a bit on the walk home. Joel wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked, holding you close to him, enveloping you with his warmth and when you inevitably reflected on that night, you would remember that moment as one on a long list of ways you were sending him mixed signals because you didn't pull away. Because as confused as you were about your feelings for him, you couldn't deny the attraction you harbored. And maybe it was partially your fault for not being stronger because you knew, you fucking knew Joel's feelings for you were far deeper than yours that night, and yet you still didn't step away.

When you arrived home and Joel fumbled clumsily with the door, you giggled, making him grin and his eyes light up at the sound before finally shoving the door open and flicking on a light. You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your boots with a sigh, the faint smell of apple pie still lingering in the air. You were happy to be in the comfort of your own home and eager to throw on your pajamas, but Joel led you into the kitchen first and poured you some water. You couldn't help but smile at how reminiscent it was from when he was sick and you did the same thing for him, so you took it and made sure to drink the whole thing while he watched with a pleased expression on his face.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?"

The glass was still pressed against your mouth, the last drops of water just swallowed, and you froze. Slowly, you lowered the glass to the counter and shook your head, unable to look away from his heated stare.

"Well, you did. Lit up the whole place. Prettier than all the other women," he said, fighting to remain still and not pull you into his arms. But he was losing that battle.

"Thank you," you said softly, forcing yourself to look away. It didn't deter him.

"I mean it. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Talkin' 'bout you," he said, watching your face heat up as he blinked slowly. "Lookin' at you," he added after a quiet moment, and you laughed softly while you crossed your arms protectively over your chest.

"Joel..." you began, not even sure what you planned to say so you opted for staring blankly out the window just so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"What, baby?" he murmured, taking a bold step forward and pinching your chin with his fingers. You dragged your gaze back up to him just to find his dark brown eyes all wide and filled with hope and tenderness as he stared down at you, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, clearly displaying his intention but you still didn't step away. Your body wouldn't let you move.

"We're both drunk," you told him, trying to remain rational. Trying to stay clear-headed.

"Not that drunk," he quickly countered, his eyes still roaming your face, his fingers still pressing into your chin and you could feel your heart flutter wildly. Why on earth couldn't your mind catch up with your body?

You sighed, partially from the exhaustion, partially from the inability to properly express yourself but he took it to mean something else. He heard your sigh and thought you were finally giving in. That you were finally going to let him kiss you. Because why else wouldn't you have pulled away?

He leaned forward, his eyes slid shut, and although you should have known it was coming, it still surprised you. Your eyes stayed open wide as he inched towards you and finally at the very last second, you tilted your face to the side, causing him to press his lips against your cheek instead.

You felt his reaction before you could see it. His lips immediately tensed against your skin and his breathing stalled. Then his hand dropped from your chin and he leaned back, eyes no longer warm and inviting.

You tightly pressed your lips together in shame. "Joel, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he said quickly, cutting you off and backing away.

The hurt was evident across his face, although he tried to hide it by averting his gaze.

"I just don't think I'm there yet," you said after a long, tense moment. "I'm trying-"

"Yeah, I know," he replied harshly, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen. "I know you're tryin' to force yourself to love me. It's gotta be real hard, I get it," he spat, his voice so cold it made you shudder as he shoved his boots back on.

You choked back a sob as you watched him grab his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know," was all he said before flinging the door open and storming out, leaving you all alone in the entryway with tears slowly streaking down your cheeks.

What an absolute fucking idiot he was.

What was he thinking? That you would magically find him attractive again? Love him again? That he was worthy of your time and care and attention? After everything he did?

You didn't know, of course, but what else could it be, other than fate? Or karma? Or whatever it was, coming back and erasing all your memories of him to set things right? Because did he ever really deserve you in the first place?

No, definitely not. Not after everything he did.

His legs carried him blindly to the Tipsy Bison. It was a quiet night, and maybe had he been in the right frame of mind, he would have been surprised. Most of the town was cooped up the past couple weeks, under normal circumstances he would have thought it would be busier, but at that moment in time, he didn't care. He only cared about one thing: he needed to forget.

He motioned for Seth and he nodded in acknowledgment before pouring him his usual whiskey and setting it down. Joel snatched it up and immediately downed it with a wince before pushing the empty glass towards Seth.

"Another, please," he muttered before burying his face in his hands with a groan. Seth eyed him suspiciously before pouring his second drink and setting it back down on the bar.

Joel let the glass sit there a few minutes while he stewed in his anger. He wanted to blame you, but he couldn't. Not really. He knew it wasn't your fault but, fuck, he just wanted you back. He was so goddamn lonely that it made his chest hurt. He rubbed it absentmindedly before picking up his glass and forcing himself to take a slow sip. He had already drank too much at Tommy's and if he didn't want to wake up with a massive hangover, he had to slow down.

"Hey, cowboy," a familiar, flirty voice suddenly said from beside him. He tilted his head to the side and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

"Angie."

She smirked and pulled up a tall barstool, scooting her way up with a little grunt that made his stomach clench as he watched her maneuver in her tight jeans.

"What's got you so blue?" she purred as she took a sip from her drink and crossed her legs, her foot coming dangerously close to touching his calf.

"Who said I was blue?" he asked gruffly before taking another swig of whiskey.

She laughed softly and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Kind of hard to miss," she said, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him expectantly.

His eyebrows furrowed at her but she noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched and she bit her lip playfully.

"C'mon, what's the matter? You can tell me, baby," she cooed, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Don't call me that."

Angie pouted and leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear when she whispered, "Oh, that's right. How could I forget? You prefer daddy."

"Knock it off," he growled, turning away from her and ignoring the stirring below his waist, but it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.

She rested her delicate hand on his forearm and his muscles twitched, but he didn't move. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed being touched. And in that moment, any touch would do. She smiled and slid her hand up his arm slowly, and he let her, his eyes fixed somewhere in the opposite direction as he tried with all his might to ignore it, to fight it, to stand up and fucking leave, but he couldn't do it.

"So tense," she murmured in his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can help with that, y'know." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his lap and had Joel's eyes been open, he would have seen Seth's eyes widen in surprise before looking away. "We're real good at it, remember?" she continued, her fingers inching towards the seam of his jeans. But before she could reach between his legs, his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Stop it," he said weakly, forcing his eyes open to glare at her, but she just smiled sweetly at him and pulled her hand back.

"I need to use the restroom," she said, her voice sultry. "You remember where the ladies' room is, right?" she asked with a wink before sliding off the stool and swinging her hips as she strolled down the hall towards the bathroom. He groaned and rubbed his face roughly.

He wasn't sure how it happened. He wanted to blame the whiskey, he wanted to blame you, but at the end of the day it was all on him when he found himself shoving open the door to the women's room and crowding Angie against the sink, his mouth crashing down on hers hungrily.

It was only one tiny minute of weakness. When he realized his mistake, when he remembered her lips weren't anything compared to yours, when her noises were not the noises he wanted to hear, her touch not the touch he craved, he immediately stopped kissing her, pulling back and cursing under his breath.

Angie looked at him, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed, then took a step forward but he held up his hand.

"No," he said a bit too loudly, the whiskey making his head swim as he stumbled backwards towards the door. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"C'mon, Joel. When are you going to realize she's not coming back? You need to move on," Angie said sweetly. Too sweetly. "You deserve to be happy," she added, and he frowned when the enormity of what he had done dawned on him through his drunken haze.

"Stay away from me," he warned her, reaching for the door and yanking it open.

"Fine. But just remember: you followed me in here!" she shouted after him as he disappeared down the hall. He snatched his coat from his barstool and jogged towards the exit.

He had to get home.

The carpet should have been worn to the floorboards by the time Joel finally came back. You had been pacing around the living room, chewing on your fingernails nervously as you replayed the entire evening in your head. The guilt was fucking suffocating you. You couldn't help but feel like you were partially to blame, but you would have broken his heart if you let him kiss you without fully understanding how you felt first, and he didn't deserve that. Maybe once he cooled down, he would understand.

When you heard his slow, heavy footsteps walking up the porch stairs, your heart leapt into your throat. The door creaked open slowly, as if he expected you to be asleep and he was trying to be quiet, but when he closed the door and saw you standing in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself, his face contorted into a grimace.

"You're still up," he said, voice a little raspy as he hung up his coat.

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you began, "I'm just so confused. I'm still trying to work out my feelings but I don't want to rush into something and risk hurting you."

He swallowed and hung his head in shame, unable to look at you.

"Please don't apologize," he whispered, but you kept going.

"Of course I'm going to apologize. I sent you mixed signals and I ended up hurting you anyway."

"I did somethin'," he blurted out, and you froze mid-sentence, waiting for him to elaborate. Silence filled the room, your eyes drifted around aimlessly before you sunk down onto the edge of the couch and tucked your hands under your thighs.

"What did you do?" you asked, your voice wavering when you realized he still hadn't looked you in the eye.

He took a steadying breath and propped his hands on his hips, his face still angled shamefully towards the floor. "I kissed someone else."

His words hung heavy in the air, your deep, ragged breaths the only sound filling the room as your tired mind tried to make sense of what he just said.

"What?" you finally asked, voice deathly quiet. He forced himself to look at you now, his dark eyes brimming with tears.

"It was a mistake-" he began, voice thick with emotion, tongue heavy and clumsy between his teeth, but you stopped him.

"Just now?" you asked incredulously, your stomach turning sour. Fighting the nausea back down with a harsh swallow, you spoke again. "You tried to kiss me, I shot you down and you just... went out and found someone else?"

"That's not what I left to do, it just happened-"

"Who?" you asked, your gaze stony as you continued to stare at him, anguish and regret flickering across his face.

"Does it matter?" he tried weakly, softly, but it just pissed you off even more.

"Yes," you hissed, slowly standing back up on now shaky legs. "Who, Joel?"

His throat bobbed and he shifted his weight and when he mumbled Angie's name, you saw red.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you whispered, quickly closing the gap between you and shoving him hard against the chest, causing him to stumble back in shock. When he looked you in the eyes, all glassy and cold and distraught, his blood felt like ice in his veins.

He was losing you.

"Please, lemme just explain-"

"What could you possibly have to say?!" you exclaimed, your body growing hot with rage. Hands shaking so badly you had to cross your arms to hide the tremor. "I was taking too long to fuck you so you went out and found a sure thing?"

"I didn't fuck her, but I could've!" he yelled back, an angry vein popping out of his neck at his sudden outburst. Your eyes went wide and you took a step back in surprise. He didn't know why he was yelling. He knew it wouldn't help, but he just snapped. "I never once pressured you to sleep with me! I gave you your space an-and respected your boundaries," he was flailing now, his thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to make sense. "But I'm a human fuckin' being and I got drunk and I was lonely and I made a fuckin' mistake! And I'm sorry, alright?!"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You're lonely," you repeated, the words like poison on your tongue, and he frowned. "What about me? I'm lonely, too! You know what the first question is out of everyone's mouth ever since my accident?" you asked, glaring up at him, anger rolling off both your bodies. "They ask me how you're doing. You! Like this was some tragedy that only happened to you! But I lost fucking everything in the blink of an eye!" Tears began to burn the backs of your eyes now but you pushed on. "My world literally turned upside down in an instant and everyone just kept waiting for me to get with the program, including you!"

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head angrily, "I never pressured you to do anythin'!"

"It's the way you look at me!" you cried, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "You don't even realize you're doing it but you keep looking at me, expecting to find the woman you fell in love with but she's gone, Joel!"

You both fell silent, staring at one another, shoulders heaving as you each sat with the weight of your words.

"I don't care," he finally said, lowering his voice. "I still love you. I told you that first day. What we got is rare and special and I'm not givin' up on us."

"Then how could you go kiss someone else the first time there's a bump in the road?" you asked, tone hurt and dejected, then you turned and headed up the stairs.

"I told you, it was a mistake," he pleaded, following you. "I'm so sorry... wait, what're you doin'?" he asked when he realized he had followed you into your room. You were snatching clothes from the drawers and tossing them onto your bed, and that's when he really began to panic.

"I can't stay here," you said, disappearing into the bathroom. His vision narrowed and his legs became weak as fear flooded his veins.

"No," he whispered, but you didn't hear him. You were busy gathering a few toiletries from the bathroom and tossing them on the bed along with your clothes, but when you walked past him to get a bag, he grabbed your arm.

"Don't do this," he begged. You yanked your arm out of his grip and stepped back, glaring at him and he realized in that moment he would rather have you there screaming at him for the rest of the night than not have you there at all, so he kept talking. He kept pushing.

"Y'know, for someone who says she doesn't have feelin's for me, you sure seem to be pretty pissed off," he glowered, and your eyes widened. That's it, he thought, let me have it. "If you don't want me, if you don't give a shit 'bout me, then what the hell does it matter if someone else does?"

You gasped, his words like a punch to the gut. Like a blade to your heart. Without thinking, your arm swung back and your palm cracked loudly against his cheek, stunning you both into silence.

He wanted to rub the spot, to help soothe the pain with the tips of his fingers, but he resisted. Instead, he let his cheek redden so you were forced to see what you did.

"You think I don't give a shit about you?" you seethed once you found your voice, palm stinging at your side, eyes flickering between his eyes and his cheek.

"Sure seems that way," he countered, and your jaw clenched angrily as the next round of tears began to well up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you yelled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "How dare you. You made me give a shit about you, you asshole!"

You shoved past him and headed down the hall to the spare room in search of a duffel bag, but Joel was hot on your trail. If he let you leave, he would never get you back.

"The hell does that even mean?"

You whipped around, making him stumble backwards, your eyes wild and bloodshot. "You told me you would make me fall in love with you again! This whole time we've been getting to know each other, building up our relationship and you think after all that, after everything we've shared, that I don't give a shit about you?"

"Well-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I took care of you when you were sick. I sat next to your bed for a full week, waiting for you to fall asleep, making sure you had everything you needed," you said, your voice growing quiet as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. "You told me about your daughter. I told you about my brother," you whimpered, your voice cracking on the last word. Joel's face fell when he finally realized how broken you were, the full weight of his actions realized. "How could you say that to me?" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks hot and wet in your palms. Your head ached. Your heart ached. You needed this to end.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," he told you, stepping forward and pulling you into his arms. You only let yourself melt against his broad chest for a moment before you sniffled and pushed him away. Turning around, you snatched the bag from the ground and stormed past him.

"Tell me how to fix it," he pleaded as he followed you back into your room.

"You can't."

His head was pounding, throat scratchy and dry as he watched you pack from the doorway, his chest tightening with each article of clothing that passed through your hands.

"Please. Stay. I-I-I won't even talk to you if that's what you want, just please stay."

You paused, your eyes squeezing shut as you silently cried over your bag. "You want me to stay, Joel?" you asked, voice trembling, and even though weren't looking, he nodded.

"I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly, and you opened your eyes. Reaching for your journal, you flipped it open to a well worn page and tossed it on the bed. He frowned at it, confused, but stepped forward and picked it up.

"Then tell me what you lied about."

His eyes scanned the page, reading the four words over and over. Joel lied to me. No context, but he didn't need any. He knew.

You could see the conflict in his face as he tried to figure out a way around it.

"The truth. Or I'm gone," you said firmly, and when his eyes flicked up to yours, you saw fear.

He slowly turned around, the journal held delicately in his massive hands, as he sat down onto the edge of your mattress.

"Okay."

The shock made your tears slow to a stop.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he repeated, his tone somber as he stared down at your journal in his lap. "What's the difference now, anyway? You already hate me."

I don't hate you, you thought, but you remained silent.

"If I tell you, you promise not to leave?" he clarified, and you thought about it for a moment. What if it was something really bad? But you knew you wouldn't get the truth out of him any other way, so you nodded. You figured if you still left and ended up becoming a liar, then at least you would be even.

"I told you 'bout the Fireflies," he began, and you got the feeling the story was going to be long so you sat down on the bed.

"Yes."

"You, Ben 'n Lisa were all part of a group out in Salt Lake City," he said, his gaze pinned on the journal. "In a hospital. Doin' research."

"Research? I don't know anything about-"

"You weren't doin' the research. The three of you were just guards. Patrolmen. There were doctors there, and they were lookin' for a cure," he continued, then took a deep breath before lifting his chin and staring at a fixed point on your wall.

"Did they find one?" you asked, remembering that first day when Joel told you about the outbreak. You had asked him at the time if there was cure and he said no. That couldn't be the lie, could it?

"Well, they were close," he said, his brow pinching together. "This next part is somethin' that's gotta stay in this house, y'hear me?" he asked, finally turning to look at you. "Y'gotta promise me that no matter what you end up thinkin' of me, you can't tell anyone 'bout this part."

You didn't want to make that promise. Why would you, after everything he had put you through? But, still, you found yourself nodding slowly, then his next sentence knocked all the air from your lungs.

"Ellie's immune."

Your lips slowly parted as the shock coursed through you, your eyes slowly drifting down to the comforter. Your mind was blank except for Ellie's immune, Ellie's immune playing on a constant loop.

"It's why you didn't write anythin' else, I reckon," he explained, holding up your journal. "Didn't want anyone to find it."

You slowly began to put the pieces together. A research hospital. Ellie's immunity. They were close to a cure.

"The Fireflies thought they could use Ellie to create a vaccine," he said after a long pause. "And I took her to 'em. Took her right into the lion's den," he said with a dry chuckle. "Didn't realize til after they took her that they would've had to... kill her to get what they needed."

Your eyes darted up to meet his again as you listened, entranced.

"Nobody knows, okay?" he said, his voice wavering a bit. "Only Tommy. No one else can know. Her life depends on it, d'you understand?"

You nodded, still unable to find your voice, so he continued.

"When I realized what they were doin', that they would have to kill her, I just..." he trailed off and scratched his chin, looking away, eyes distant. "I lost it. It's the only way to describe it."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I killed alotta people," he said, voice cold and detatched, "alotta fuckin' people. Whoever got in my way, I just... didn't think twice. 'Til you."

You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting you were somewhere in that hospital.

"Me?" you squeaked.

"You didn't see my face," he said, his voice beginning to shake. "None of you did. The three of you were together. You surrendered. Had you face down on the ground with your hands behind your head. Told me you were plannin' on ditchin' the Fireflies anyway. That you wouldn't come after me." His hand trembled in his lap and he made a fist.

"You weren't the first ones to say that to me, but you were the first ones I let live."

You pressed your palms into your face, trying to quell the ache behind your eyes as you rocked gently back and forth on the bed, heart thundering in your chest, blooding pumping too fast. The exhaustion was too much. You could hardly make sense of what he was saying.

"You almost killed me," you said, more of a statement than a question, your voice muffled through your hands.

"Yeah." He watched you carefully, trying to read you, desperately searching for some small glimmer of hope underneath all your rage and confusion.

"Then what?" you forced yourself to ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He ticked his jaw to the side and looked away.

"Then... Ellie 'n me came here. Started over. Tried to forget," he sniffed, pulling at a loose string on his shirt. "Then the three of you showed up couple months later. Scared the fuckin' shit outta me, but none of you seemed to recognize me."

"Because we never saw you," you said, and he nodded.

"I didn't speak to you for over a month. I was so scared you'd recognize my voice or somethin', but I just couldn't stay away from you," he said, his eyes softening now. "Then that night at the bar happened. When you came up to me and-"

"Yeah, I remember what you told me," you replied, not eager to relive that story at the moment.

"Then the rest is history. We started messin' around. You didn't know who I was for a few months, then I finally told you."

"After you were already fucking me," you said coldly, and he winced.

"After I fell in love with you."

You sat back and rubbed your eyes. You had so many questions. What was your reaction when you first learned who he was? If you stuck around, you must have seen something in Joel that made you feel safe. Why did he spare you? Was it only because you couldn't identify him? And how much did Ellie know?

"Please say somethin'," he begged after a few tense, quiet minutes.

"What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your shoulders sagging forward, limbs too heavy. "You want me to forgive you? You want me to say I understand?" He shook his head but you kept talking.

"You spared my life just to break my heart."

He turned away from you as his face crumpled. "I'm gonna fix it," he said, his throat tight and voice thick as he fought off the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. "I'm gonna make it right, if you just-"

"Can you go, please?" you asked quietly, "I have nothing else to say and I'm fucking tired."

He looked over at you but you refused to look up, your puffy eyes fixed blankly on the floor. His gaze drifted to the bag and clothes littering your bed and he asked, "Are you stayin'?"

You didn't answer. You just slowly stood up and flung your comforter back, some of your clothes falling into a heap on the floor but you didn't care as you crawled into bed and turned your back to him.

Begrudgingly, he stood. His eyes flicked around your room nervously, his fingers fidgeting at his sides while he chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to come up with the right words to say.

"Go!" you sobbed from underneath your blankets, hiding from him the tears that were soaking your sheets.

So, he left. Not because he wanted to, but because he caused you enough agony for one night, and as much as he wanted to stay and beg on his knees for forgiveness, it would be the selfish thing to do. Instead, he went to his bed and stared at the ceiling, barely sleeping the entire night because his body jerked awake at every little creak the old house made, wondering when he woke up, if you would be gone for good.

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A/N: Yes, there will be a happy ending 😘

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