#i just fling it back from my face every so often and it feels like i'm throwing a curtain back from something. rly fun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muchosbesitos · 6 months

Note

Every day I wake up and want Miguel O’Hara, a man who can cherish me with all my heart but also fuck my brains and yk what so hard to the point it’s mush /j

That aside, I’d looove to see jealous Miggy railing the shit out of Y/N all bc an old classmate from high school/uni was all being handsy and Miguel didn’t like that bc he didn’t get the hint 😏

celoso

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: situationship, jealousy, mentions of verbal abuse, reader gets pinned against wall, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, biting, marking, unprotected p in v (be safe 🤨🤨), doggy, brief choking, spanking

a/n: so i was thinking of making this into a relationship fic buttt my hand slipped (whoops)

word count: 4.3K

"Wey, you're gonna end up breaking that cup."

Miguel looked down at the glass of champagne he was holding, his knuckles starting to turn white from how forcefully he was holding it. He couldn't help it though, especially with the way Flash wrapped his hand around your waist while he made you laugh. "Not like they don't have more cups," he responded, looking back over to his brother who had a knowing smile on his face. "I don't get it, you both like each other so why not pursue something?" Gabriel asked him, the same question that had been tormenting Miguel these last couple weeks.

The only reason that Miguel had even agreed to come back to the reunion was because of the way that you looked at him, clearly excited to see how everyone's life had been going so far. He didn't care that much about the people that used him for test answers but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to spend some time with you. "We wouldn't be seen together but as long as the two of us know we're there together then who really cares?" You had told him, his plans wrecked by the bomb you'd dropped. He ended up going to the event regardless because no matter how hard he tried, he could never find it in him to deny you anything.

Flashing disco lights mixed with the loud music was supposed to provide an ambiance full of enjoyment but it did nothing more than just torment Miguel. He hated the fact that his eyes seemed to find you in every room you were in without putting in much effort like a siren capturing its prey. All the event did was remind him that he no right to be feeling possessive over you, that he had no authority to be feeling jealous at some other man having his hands all over you.

He knew that you didn't want to pursue a relationship, but he couldn't help the feelings that he'd developed towards you. So in attempt just to have you present in his life, he'd agreed to keep this no-strings fling with you. The lines kept blurring every so often though, with the two of you going on dates and being each other's confidant. He was moderately happy with the arrangement that the two of you shared, but seeing you getting so comfortable with another man made him wish that he had the balls to ask you for something more.

"We're both fine with the no-strings thing we have going on," Miguel told him, loosening his grip on the cup before taking a sip. Gabriel raised a brow as he reached over to grab a champagne glass from the table. "Ya estas muy viejo para andar con estas mamadas," Gabriel retorted, standing next to him as he patted him on the shoulder. (you’re too old to be doing this shit) "Ni tan viejo, solo 27," he grumbled, his brows furrowing even further as he saw you place your hand on Flash's shoulder. (not that old, just 27) "There's people here who are already married," Gabriel offered, letting out a laugh as Miguel’s scowl deepened further.

You were talking with some friends in the middle of the gymnasium floor, trying to avoid eye contact with Miguel as your friends tried to recognize the people around them. "Wow, he's so tall and hot," Sasha, your friend, pointed out and you didn't even have to turn around to know she was referring to Miguel. "Isn't that the guy who used to wear those stupid glasses? I think his name was Manuel or something," your other friend, Jenna, remarked once she stopped kissing her boyfriend long enough to see who you were all talking about. You bit on the inside of your cheek to avoid correcting her, not wanting to drag any suspicion to yourself.

You listened to your friends talking as they excluded you from the conversation, wondering why you even put up with them back in uni. You excused yourself though you weren't sure if anyone really cared about your absence and headed to the bathroom. You were about to enter when you suddenly felt a strong grip on your arm, turning around to be faced with Flash. "Why'd you leave so early, pretty girl?" He asked you, his mouth reeking from the vodka he'd been drinking all night. "I just need to fix my makeup," you responded, trying to get him to loosen his grip but he pushed you against the wall.

"I've been thinking.. we were really good during university so what do you say if we rekindle that flame?" He asked, clearly oblivious to the fear sparking up in your eyes. "Dude, get off me. you're hurting my arm," you tried to plead with him but the grip around you only intensified. He leaned into kiss you, your knee hitting him in the groin once he got close to you. "STUPID WHORE!" He screamed after you ran away from him. You weren't too focused on where you were going, just making the effort to get away from him as much as possible.

You didn't realize you'd bumped into someone, your eyes flickering up to meet Miguel’s red ones. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his gaze softening a bit as he looked down at you. "Oh thank goodness I found you," you mumbled, just burying your head in his chest without caring who was around. His hand came to hold yours, only stopping when he felt you flinch underneath. "Who did this to you?" you could tell that he was trying to remain calm as he asked that question, some venom still managing to seep through. "Flash Thompson," you responded, holding his arm before he had the chance to storm off.

"Can you just stay with me, please?" You asked him, tears brimming on your waterline. He let out a small sigh, almost like he was conflicted but he nodded and went with you to the football field. The two of you sat on the stands, sounds of cicadas around filling up the silence. You leaned against Miguel’s shoulder, finding comfort in just being around him despite the rough facade that he'd built for himself. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, seemingly wanting to keep you away from any further danger that would come.

"It's so stupid, I actually thought that he was an okay partner during our time in university. Like sure, he was verbally abusive towards me but he was nice during these short periods of time," you spoke out, feeling Miguel’s eyes bore into you as you did. "Is that why you're so avoidant on being in a relationship?" He asked you, his hand tracing small circles on your shoulder. You took a couple seconds to think about his question, wondering if Flash had really had that much of an effect on you and your future relationships. "It's part of the reason why, I think seeing everyone around me in unhealthy relationships kind of set in stone for me."

"I don't think it's wrong what you're doing, but are you sure you're not closing off opportunities just because of that fear?" He inquired, his hand coming down to your waist as he held you close to him. The truth was that you did allow yourself to wonder about the 'what-ifs' but they always ended up in the worst result. "I just don't see the whole point of putting myself through the pain of being in a relationship, y'know? Plus, you're pretty good company," you responded, flashing a small smile towards him.

Miguel didn't say anything, but he didn't need to in that moment. All you were looking for was for someone to hold you, to make you feel like you were okay again. You got up when you heard your phone buzzing, a message from your friend asking to come back to the party. "I'll come meet you later tonight," you told Miguel before you left, leaning over to press your lips against his cheek. You couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as you saw your lipstick mark on him, practically marking him as yours. "Don't think I forgot about all those little touches by the way!" He yelled after you, a small chuckle escaping from his lips while he waited for you to leave.

You walked back into the party, seeing your friends still standing in their spot without Flash. You grabbed yourself a drink from a table nearby, listening in to the conversation happening around you. You let out the small occasional 'hm' and 'mhm' in response to their conversation, not willing yourself to feign more interest than that. If your friends had noticed something off, they hadn't bothered to mention it. Your eyes glanced over to Gabriel, seeing that Miguel still hadn't come back from the field. You found yourself growing a bit worried for him, taking a sip from your soda to try to calm down.

Miguel saw Flash as he walking back from the football field, unable to hold himself back the longer he looked at him. As Miguel approached him, he could tell that his frame clearly overpowered his, but Flash still tried to pretend like he was the one in power of this situation. "What the hell do you want, nerd?" Flash asked him, speaking to him like he didn't matter much more than the dirt below his feet. "What I want is for you not to put a hand on her again," Miguel spoke calmly, despite the storm that was brewing up inside him. "And if I don't?"

The whole thing had happened in a blur, one minute Flash was laughing in face and calling him a nerd and the other he was on the floor screaming for help. Miguel had to mentally restrain himself as he punched him, his fist leaving Flash with a crooked and bloody nose. "That's what happens if you don't," Miguel responded, wiping away the blood on his handkerchief before walking away. He stepped away into the restroom, his hand throbbing as he washed away the blood flash leaked onto his hand. Your concern for Miguel was quickly replaced with shock when Flash came into the gymnasium, blood spilling onto the white shirt he had on.

You’d almost missed Miguel walking in behind him as he tried his best to blend into the shadows while he walked back to Gabriel. Your attention was brought back to the group when they let out a collective gasp once they noticed Flash walking over. "What the hell happened to you?" Sasha asked him, a tone of amusement in her voice as she spoke. "Bumped into a door," he responded, grabbing some ice from the bowl nearby and placing them into a napkin. You noticed he kept his distance from you this time, giving you only the occasional dirty look.

Gabriel looked up from his phone to look up at Miguel, taking a look at his throbbing hand. "Don't ask," Miguel grumbled, placing an ice cold soda against his knuckles. "Wasn't going to. How's the other guy doing?" Gabriel asked before he looked over where Miguel was staring, noticing Flash's bloody nose. He let out a small hiss as a response, clapping Miguel’s shoulder. "Well at least he looks worse than you. I was gonna text you after you abandoned me, met some girl that wanted to dance with me," Gabriel spoke before leaving Miguel alone in the shadows.

You watched as Jenna danced with gabriel, despite the fact that her boyfriend had only just left the event. The group decided to join her on the dance floor and so you did the same, dancing to the rhythm of the song that was playing. Your eyes met Miguel’s as you danced, your hips moving sensually to the rhythm of the song. You could feel other people staring at you and the way that you moved, but your eyes couldn't leave Miguel’s no matter how hard you willed yourself to try. His stone cold facade broke down when he clenched his fists by his sides, a clear sign that you were affecting him.

You looked at him as he pulled his phone out, his thumbs rushing across the keyboard as he tried to write the words out to the best of his ability. You felt a buzz in your purse, seeing a text message from Miguel to meet him in the restroom. You placed your phone back in your purse, taking a small gulp as you walked into the restroom after him. "Second stall," he spoke up once he heard the door close, your heels clicking across the bathroom floor while you walked to him. "What if that'd been someone else?" You teased him as you walked into the stall, closing it immediately to avoid getting caught.

The words soon enough died in your throat as Miguel unbuttoned his pants, his cock hard under his boxers. "You see what you do to me, beautiful? Couldn't stand all those others staring at what's mine," he told you, bringing your face up to his as he kissed you. The kiss was rough, like he was just desperate to get a taste of you. His mouth travelled down to your throat, leaving a small mark on the side of your neck. "You're all mine," he whispered, his touch featherlight as he kissed your neck. You got down on your knees, palming his cock through the boxers.

You slid them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. You wrapped one of your hands around it, starting to stroke him as your mouth went towards his thighs. You left small kisses on his thigh, making your way up to his cock. You placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock, your lipstick leaving a mark as you did. You opened up your mouth, swirling your tongue around the reddened head with your eyes locked straight on his. His hand came back to the back of your head, holding you in place as you got started.

You took more of his cock in your mouth, never growing quite adjusted to the size of him. Your cheeks hollowed as you made your way down his shaft, your tongue running down the underside of his cock. His hips bucked forward, your gags filling up the empty bathroom. "So pretty, all stuffed with cock like that," he murmured, your eyes watering slightly as you tried to control the tears streaming down from your cheeks. Your hand wrapped around the base, pumping what your mouth couldn't reach and the other one went to play with his balls. You held his heavy balls in your hand, tugging them slightly and massaging them in your grasp.

"Oh fuuuck, just like that," he moaned quietly, soft groans erupting from his chest as you continued to suck on his cock. You pulled away, spitting on the tip while the liquid travelled downward. Your grip on the base tightened as you moved your hand up and down his cock, looking up at him in anticipation. You brought your mouth back to his cock, your lipstick smeared across and your mascara dripping down your cheeks. "Tan hermosa que eres," he groaned as he felt your tongue running along the underside of his tip, the sight of him looking so disheveled making your panties wetter by the second. (you’re so beautiful)

You felt your pussy clench around nothing as you sucked him off, your panties damp from how much you were affected by this. You felt his legs shaking underneath you, his groans becoming louder as he approached his orgasm. "Where do you want it?" He asked, his voice cracking a bit from the sensation he was feeling. You opened up your mouth, sticking your tongue out as your hand pumped him at the same rate you were going beforehand. "Just like that, don't stop," he told you, biting into his hand as he approached his orgasm. White ropes of cum filled up your mouth, some of it landing on your cheeks and chin.

"I look horrible," you noticed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, your lipstick barely clinging on. "Well I think you look pretty," Miguel responded, wrapping his arms around your waist as he peppered your neck with more kisses. You wiped away at the mascara dripping down from your cheeks, deciding to give up on that aspect and just fix up your lipstick. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as you saw the mark on miguel's lips, handing him a piece of tissue paper to clean up.

Once the two of you had fixed up the slightest bit, you left at separate times. You waited for Miguel to text you the okay before leaving the bathroom, walking back over to your friends. "What's up with you? You keep disappearing," Jenna pointed out once you came back, the darkness of the gym hiding away the hickey blooming on the side of your neck. So much for them not noticing your absence.

"Just drank a little too much soda," you responded, keeping your voice even so they wouldn't notice your little fib. You looked around, noticing that Gabriel was standing off to the side once more. "What happened to dancing with him?" You decided to change the subject, receiving a small shrug in response. "I don't know, he's too sweet? His brother, though, definitely looks like he's a freak in the sheets," she pointed out and you couldn't help but feel a bit of possessiveness over Miguel. You decided to ignore her little comment, letting her go back to talking with the rest of the group.

Miguel walked back over to Gabriel, finding him sulking alone in the shadows. "It's funny, almost every girl I've been with chooses you for some reason despite the fact that you're an asshole," Gabriel spoke up, Miguel’s chest tightening up a bit as he spoke. He'd never meant to make his brother feel inferior, never meant to make him feel like he was something less. "The girl you were dancing with had a boyfriend so I wouldn't wallow too much over that," Miguel responded, approaching Gabriel slowly. "Yeah, you're probably right," he responded with a small sigh, still feeling down.

Soon enough, another woman had approached Gabriel and asked him for a coffee, without offering Miguel as much as a second glance. Miguel looked down at his phone, checking the time on his phone before walking out of the gym. You came out right after he did, stepping side by side with him. "How's your brother doing? Jenna’s kind of.. a lot so I’m sorry," you spoke up first, looking up at Miguel. "He's alright, he found someone else to get over it. How do you feel about getting back to my place?"

On the drive back home, you couldn't help but feel aroused at the sight of him behind the wheel. He just drove so eloquently, his muscles flexing in the thin button down he had on with every movement that he made. You spread your legs, noticing Miguel looking at you through the corner of his eye. You tentatively played with your folds through the thin material of your panties, looking over at Miguel as he struggled to maintain his composure. "It's like you want me to crash, little minx," he muttered, looking straight at the road. You took off your panties slowly, bringing your fingers up to Miguel’s mouth.

He wrapped his mouth around them as he kept his attention on the road, covering them in his spit. You brought them back into your weeping hole, sticking them in. You started off slow, your slick combining with his spit each time you pushed them inside. Miguel’s hand around the steering wheel tightened, letting out a grunt as he heard the squelch from your pussy. You began rocking your pelvis against your hand, riding your two fingers as soft moans escaped from your lips. Miguel brought his other hand towards your clit, rubbing the nub as he continued to drive across the empty streets.

Just as you were about to cum, Miguel pulled his hand away despite your protests. "You'll only be coming around my cock, understand?" He told you, the car coming to a stop. You looked around, noticing that the two of you had arrived to his penthouse. You felt your pussy clench up at his promise, your shaky feet barely taking you out of his car. Without a word, miguel picked you up with ease and locked up the car before taking you inside.

The two of you had barely gotten through the door when Miguel started kissing you, his mouth engulfing around yours like he was afraid you'd go away. "We should go to the bedroom, yeah?" You suggested to him in between kisses, his hand grabbing yours as he led you up the stairs. The minute the two of you had made it back to the bedroom, his lips were back on yours as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth like it was the first time doing so.

He wasted no time in zipping down your dress and taking off his clothes, a pile quickly building up underneath the two of you. "Get down on your hands and knees," he told you, your body obliging almost immediately. His hand rubbed the globe of your ass cheek, a sharp smack taking all the breath from your lungs. "I want you to count for the amount of times he had his hands on you," he spoke, his hand gently soothing the sting from the previous slap. "Okay!" You exclaimed, letting out a moan as his hand came down to smack your ass once more. "One!"

The process continued for four more times, Miguel’s hands gripping your hips as he pushed his cock inside of you. "You only belong to me, I don't care if it's official to you or not, it is to me," he spoke, a small grunt escaping from his lips as he felt your pussy clench around him. No matter how many times he'd fucked you, the process was still a stretch every time. You gripped onto the pillow below you tightly, his cock moving inside of you slightly as he tried to fit in.

He retracted his cock, slamming into you in sharp thrust. "All mine, understand?" He told you, leaning in slightly as his chest hit your back. "All yours!" You responded, the words not feeling like something you were just saying in the moment. The grip around your waist tightened, his cock retracting out of your pussy much faster this time. Drool rolled down to your chin as he sped up, his thrusts almost punishing you for letting another man touch you. Your back arched, stomach against the bed as he rocked you back and forth.

He brought you back up, your back plush against his chest while his hips snapped into yours. You held onto the headboard, the wooden frame hitting the wall with every thrust that he took. One of his hands held your waist as he fucked you to his will, the other wrapping around your throat. He provided enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges but not enough to the point where you were suffocating. The blood rushed up to your head with every thrust that he took, your mouth parted in a 'o' shape as you moaned out babbles of what seemed to be his name.

He tilted your head back to his directions, leaning in as he kissed you with such intensity that it made you dizzy. You weren't too sure if it was from him or the momentary oxygen loss, but you couldn't get enough of how well he was fucking you. You went back to being on your hands and knees, almost feeling his cock in your throat from this angle. One of his fingers circled the rim of your ass, never willing to do that without your proper consent but he liked to toy with the idea every so often. That hand went down to your clit, rubbing your clit and flicking the nub to the rhythm of his thrusts.

A new wave of your slick coated his cock, some of it rolling down to the covers beneath the two of you. Your mind was erased from every thought that didn't include coming around Miguel’s cock. Your walls clamped around him once more, a moan erupting from your throat while your release coated his cock. He continued with the same pace, fucking you through the orgasm as he sought out for his own release. His thrusts stuttered slightly, becoming off-pace as he reached the brink of his own orgasm.

His head came down to your shoulder, biting down on it as white ropes of cum coated your walls. His fangs gently grazed against your shoulder blade when he removed his mouth, waiting for his cock to soften up so he could remove it. He slid out in one swift motion, getting a rag from the bed stand. he cleaned in between your thighs, his touch light as he did. "Can you stand up for a minute? I'm not letting you sleep on those sheets," he asked you, helping you get up from the bed.

After he'd changed the sheets, you couldn't help but look up at him curiously. "Was that talk about me being yours just something out of the heat of the moment or..?" You asked, trailing off since you didn't want to make wrongful assumptions. "No, it wasn't. I only agreed to this stupid fling because I just wanted to be with you. I'm sorry if I'm acting rash or anything, we can go back to normal," he responded, willing to put aside his feelings for you just so he'd have these moments. "I don't want things to go back to normal, I want to be with you."

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autumnywinter · 24 days

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Hiii! <3 Could you perhaps write something with Reader cheating on yandere Jingyuan?

I hope this isn't ooc! I love writing for HSR characters but I don't do it often.

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

Tags: NSFW MDNI, cheating, spanking, patronizing behavior, light degradation, sex as punishment, gender neutral reader, implied kidnapping

You couldn't deny you felt shame. Jing Yuan was so sweet, so doting, but he could get so busy sometimes. You loved him, you truly did, but occasionally, it was too tempting to not hook up with someone else. Just a fling, that's all you wanted. Only enough attention to make up for the lack of his while he was on duty. You didn't expect anyone to get murdered over it.

Things were supposed to go out smoothly. Your husband would be gone for the weekend, so you'd have a one-night stand and sneak back home at midnight. You didn't bother hiding the hickeys since you didn't think he'd be home.

However...

"Welcome home, dear. Did you have fun?"

He was there when you walked in. He was lounging on the sofa, eyeing you as you came in, his figure relaxed with one leg crossed over the other. There was no anger on his face. On the contrary, he smiled and looked more content than he had been in a while. But you could see it.

The glimmer in his eyes, the dangerous red that clouded his pupils. He wasn't angry. He was furious.

You flinched, wanting to shrink away into your coat. How were you supposed to explain this? "I..." Your voice came out in a rasp, throat dry and tight. You swallowed down your fear and tried again. "Yes... I did."

Part of you was still foolishly hoping he didn't know about your disloyalty, that you were overthinking his mannerisms.

Perhaps he just happened to be home early because he wanted to see you, and not because he rightfully suspected anything. Maybe you could still cover this up.

He rose from his seat and came towards you. "Did you now?" His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest. Your hands shook as they hung by your sides. "Would you like to know what I did, honey?"

It wasn't a question. He didn't care if you did or didn't want to know. He was going to tell you anyway.

His face pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent, humming against your skin. "I followed you." His lips peppered your neck with kisses as his grip tightened. "I have lots of friends in the knights that patrol the area frequently. Imagine my heartbreak when I hear my darling spouse has been sneaking around. I didn't want to believe it, so I had to see for myself."

You trembled in his hold, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jing Yuan's tone was frighteningly even, but that only scared you more. You could feel him smiling against your skin. Forced and cold.

"When I saw you enter that man's house, I thought to myself: No, there must be an explanation for this. There's no way you would do such a thing." The more he talked, the more painful his grasp got. His nails dug into your side, threatening to puncture your skin. "So I waited outside for a while and sure enough, you came out a mess." His gaze became more narrowed, trailing down to the angry hickeys covering your skin.

"You stunk of alcohol and sweat, with all these nasty marks all over you. Even on your collarbone. Absolutely shameful."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Shh." Jing Yuan's lips covered your own in a deep kiss that tasted of wine. "You were lonely without me, right? You wanted attention. I understand. There's no need to apologize. I know I haven't been paying much attention to you, so it's natural for you to look elsewhere."

Despite his understanding words, you felt trapped. Jing Yuan kissed you again and again, tongue swiping against your lips. You didn't have a choice but to open your mouth and let him in, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth.

He usually took his sweet time tasting you, but this time, he was impatient and sloppy. You could only grip his arms, whimpering as he poured all of his pent-up anger into the kiss.

When he pulled away, your knees threatened to give out on you. His mouth remained close, the warmth of his breath grazing your lips.

"You'll just have to make it up to me." His hand slithered under your coat and slid it off, his fingers stroking the marks on your shoulders. "These look painful. I never knew you liked pain. But I guess I never knew you were a whore, either."

His words pierced you like daggers, tears spilling from your eyes as you choked back a sob. Jing Yuan's cold eyes softened at the sight, cooing at you.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. It hurts me too when you cheat." His fingers stroked your cheek, catching some of your tears and licking them off his fingers. "I'll take care of you now, okay? Let me be your husband again." He guided you into the bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. "I'm going to fuck all of him out of you, so when I'm done, you'll only remember me. And all the other men you've seen."

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled down your pants. You squealed as his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red mark that would surely bruise later.

His palm was ice cold on your hot skin, soothing the sting from the impact.

"I want to forgive you, but I'm not going to lie to myself. You hurt me. I'd never hurt you like that." He paused, feeling between your legs. "And now you're getting aroused by this? Maybe I really have been neglecting you." He stood up to unbuckle his belt. "Let me remind you what sex feels like with someone who loves you."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, watching him stroke himself. He looked down at you, an unsettling smile on his face.

"You know I love you, right?"

Jing Yuan climbed onto the bed, fingers tracing up your leg before pressing into your entrance. You whimpered as he eased them inside, not used to being stretched so suddenly. But he didn't care.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, moving his fingers in scissoring motions to spread you more. You couldn't stop squirming beneath him, struggling to adjust to his pace.

"Answer me," he demanded. His fingers curled inside you.

"I do! I-I do!"

He hummed and removed his fingers, staring down at his hand covered in your wetness. He admired the way his wedding ring glistened in the low lighting, but not for long.

His gaze lowered to your reddened, flustered face, making his cock twitch.

"Good. Because I really do love you." He lifted your hips up, guiding the tip of his cock to your hole. He pushed into you and watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate moans falling from your lips. Your walls wrapped around him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolutely wreck you.

So he did.

His hips snapped against yours at a rough pace, hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. But the way you cried his name was the best song to his ears.

If he weren't mad with jealousy and frustration, he would've taken a few seconds to grab his phone to record. But he needed to chase the image of that man out of your mind first.

He reached around you and started rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, grunting against your skin. His touch sent you spiraling into an orgasm, juices gushing all over his cock.

Your tightening walls drove him towards his climax as well, and he came inside of you with a satisfied groan.

Your eyes were blown wide as you felt his cum fill you up. Jing Yuan panted above you, not having the energy to pull out yet. After a few seconds, he did, watching his seed spill out of you. His hips gave a few lazy thrusts into you as if trying to push it in deeper.

"You took me so well, sweetheart." He laid down next to you, bringing your shaking body close.

"Are you still mad at me?" You breathed in his scent.

He chuckled. "I'm no longer mad. In fact, I'm happy. You just confirmed my suspicions that you can't be trusted on your own."

You didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

He brought a hand to your neck, stroking the skin there. "You have a wild spirit. So it's only natural that I'd need to watch over you closely, right? So you don't wander off again. How can you cheat on me if I'm the only person you see?" He ignored your frightened expression and snuggled you close to him. "This is for the best. Everything I do is for you, Y/n."

#yandere #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #jing yuan #jing yuan smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #yandere x reader #obsessive love #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere fic

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rustedhearts · 1 month

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i want your things in my room (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington: resident frat boy heartbreaker. handsome, charming, good in bed—what's not to love? if only he loved you. based on this sexy thought of mine

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly’s roller wheels blurbs commissions! ✶ blurbs!

tags: frat boy!steve, situationship, asshole-ish!steve, pining, kind of feral reader because i was feral writing this, smut.

"i want your things in my room, i miss you all of the time. i stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find...you look so cool, I wanna die. is it too soon to say what's on my mind?"

— in my room, julia wolf

for the lovely 🫧

wc: 2,095 (oops)

delta phi. saturday april 12th, 2009

Cords of muscle suffocated under the tight sleeve of a red cutoff—ripped while weight-lifting on the porch, you imagined. Knowing Steve, it was intentionally and meticulously cut in the bathroom mirror for a blurry cellphone image sent to another fling.

You never received texts like that. The only texts you received were late in the evening or at the crest of midnight:

you up?

coming over. unlock the back door.

The one trip-up in this eight month routine came two weekends ago at nine p.m.

coming over, brought you a surprise. want you to wear it saturday.

It was a tight white t-shirt promoting Steve for Delta Phi Senior President. You wore it like he asked, lingering in the basement corner of another Saturday party with a lukewarm beer you wanted to throw up when you saw hordes of other girls wearing the exact same thing.

He didn't even look at you that night.

But he messaged, an hour after you skulked home with a hoodie zipped over his face printed on your left tit.

didn't see you leave. can i swing by later?

He did. And you let him crawl over your naked body under a pink duvet and place his mouth wherever he liked. He didn't apologize, and you swallowed down the sharp sting of tears every time he told you how pretty you were—knowing every girl wearing his face that night received the very same treatment at one point.

You weren't special. You knew that. But he had such a way of making you feel like you were. Catching your eye through passing bodies, lifting his mouth in a sideways grin, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave when he knew no one was looking. Cupping the back of your head in the checkout line at the coffeeshop when he passed by, because somehow he always knew when you were there. He never said a thing, but he had your heart stuttering every single time.

So, here you were. Another Saturday night in a dark Delta Phi corner, sipping a Twisted Tea and struggling to swallow past the lump of hurt in your throat when Steve's head turned to follow the path of a pretty and petite blonde. Watching his biceps flex under his sleeve, his hips turn in a pair of Levis often rumpled on your floor. You washed them once, when he came and got sick in your bathroom after a particularly intense recruitment night.

Steve lifted a wide hand and swept it through the front of his hair. You could almost smell it, the Old Spice soaked in those chestnut tresses. You used his bathroom on the second floor one time, found the red shampoo bottle resting on the edge of the tub.

And maybe you popped the cap and smelled it, closed your eyes and imagined Steve was right in front of you, pressing his cheek on your chest the way he did post-coital: panting wordlessly, letting you feel the warmth of his flesh clinging to yours, running your fingers through his hair to bring him back down.

Steve's eyes cutting your way yanked you from your warm, gut-wrenching thoughts of him. Over the swell of his own bicep: a pair of hazels fixing on your figure across the room. Your heart lurched to your throat when you locked gazes, fingers twitching to wave. He wouldn't wave back. You knew without a doubt.

But those lips quirked up in acknowledgement, and that was enough. Enough to have heat lapping at your face and coiling in your stomach. Enough to know he'd message after the party, when most of the crowd dispersed and his buddies wandered off to bed. Enough to know you'd feel his breath on your face tonight, feel his mouth over your body.

That was more than enough.

✶ ✶

You waited.

Waited—fully dressed on your bed, lamp clicked on in the darkness of the night—with the skin of your thumb between your teeth. Gnawing between glances at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with his name. The deeper the night grew, the hungrier you became. Hungry for his tongue sliding around your mouth, his fingers digging into your ribs with every pull back against his body. His palm cupped around your throat the way it often did when he took you from behind, keeping you braced against his chest so he could feel you struggle to catch your breath.

You waited. You bid your roommate goodnight through a closed door and waited. You peeled your outfit off layer by layer, checked your messages for his name, and waited. You laid back on your bed holding your phone to your faded-t-shirt-clad chest, and waited.

The hunger nestled between your legs, aching and pulsing with soreness. It was terrible how conditioned you were for Steve's attention. How horribly you craved it.

Somehow, his air of coolness made you want it more. When he avoided your eye, when your texts went unanswered, when he brushed by at a party and looped your pinkies together—you wanted him something awful.

But you wanted him most when you had him. When he was running his nose through the sweat on your neck, big hands sweeping over your stomach under the t-shirt he guided over your head. His t-shirt, always asked for in a groggy, early morning exchange before he left. When he was whispering—unwilling to wake your roommates—and promising that you were the only one he'd ever felt this close to.

"Swear nobody's made me feel so fuckin' high before," he'd say. "Love your body, baby, you're so pretty."

Tears squeezed at your lash line, burning as they spilled over. You swiped at them irritatedly, setting your phone on the nightstand and turning away from it.

And then it buzzed.

You flung your hands toward the vibration, snatching the scratched device eagerly.

coming.

missed you.

Falling back against your pillows, you let out a long, blissful sigh. He missed you. That was new.

Your phone buzzed with the long-awaited "here" text, and you had to catch yourself on the stair railing to avoid running toward the door. But the way you swung the door open and tugged him in did little to hide your excitement, and it had Steve grinning wide as you hurried back toward your room.

"Wait," he chuckled, stumbling over his sneakered feet. "Christ, you're quick to the belt tonight."

You clamped your bedroom door shut carefully, spinning around to find Steve toeing his shoes off at the end of your bed. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek when he turned to face you again. The smirk on his mouth was delicious.

Suddenly, all that hunger coursing through you fizzled to coyness. But Steve liked when you were shy. He thought it was cute.

"C'mere."

The way he called to you—softly, a sweeter version of his usual tone—always had your nerves tingling.

You stepped in front of him, giggling when he plucked at the faded, stained material of your bed shirt near your chest.

"Sexy 'jamas," he chuckled, swooping down to press your mouths together.

"Thought...you weren't...coming," you mumbled between detachments and quiet, wet smacks.

He said nothing this time, letting his hands drop to your hips to steer you around. He guided you onto the bed, and the pair of you moved like a well-oiled carnival ride until you reached the pillows. Two heavy palms pressed into the feathers on either side of your head, and Steve's mouth continued lapping at yours vigorously.

One thing about Steve was that he was always pleased to incorporate foreplay. He loved the art of kissing, and he knew it well.

Steve pulled away far too early, moving his lips to your cheek. Down your jaw, under the junction where nerves tingled for his attention under your ear. You fisted the thin fabric of his shirt as he dragged his nose across your jaw.

"Did ya miss me, honey?" His voice took on a low gravel that brought your hairs to their ends.

Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed, hips shifting on the bed. Your breath already shallowed.

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Tell me," he cooed, nose rubbing a small circle into your cheek, breath hot on your skin. "Tell me you missed me, pretty girl."

You blinked your eyes open, glazing over the length of his lashes and flecks of honey and emerald in his gaze. You could barely feel your own body, could barely form a sentence on your own.

"I missed you," you whispered dazedly.

Steve moved his eyes down to your stomach as he dragged the t-shirt toward your collarbones. His hand glided over your navel and between your breasts.

"Missed you, too. Take your shirt off f' me, sweetheart."

He knelt at the end of the bed and watched you undress intently, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he pressed to his knees and fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When the pair of you were bare, he returned to his place hovering above you, and you took your chance to roam your hands over his chest. Firm, warm, smooth-skinned. Lifting your back off the bed, you buried your nose in his throat and inhaled deeply. Steve's chuckle rumbled through you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed.

"Smell good," you remarked quietly.

Steve tipped his head away from your face until you settled back into the pillows. He grinned down at you there, hair curling over his forehead and toward his brow.

"Yeah? That's new."

You shook your head, tongue fat and dumb in your mouth. Your fingers traced down his arms bracing your head. "No...always smell good."

A swallow bobbed in his throat. The back of his finger nudged your cheek from the pillow beside you. "Yeah?"

You nodded this time, meeting his eye with what he could only call a lovestruck stare—all rounded and doe-like. "Yeah."

He wished you'd shut your eyes. He wished you'd stop looking at him like he was some sort of saint. He wished you'd stop letting him get away with all the shit he put you through.

Steve was quick to switch gears, pecking a short, painful kiss to your mouth before flipping you by the hips onto your stomach. You gasped at the quick and irritated pull of your hips upward until your ass was arched in the air. He pressed on the dip in your back and you let your stomach drop toward the mattress.

"Good," he sniffed. "Look good like this."

Because he couldn't see your eyes.

And you let him fuck you like that, pummeling so deep that you were buried in the mattress by the time he was done. You didn't cum and he knew it, and the pair of you settled flat with quiet gasps. He didn't press his cheek to your chest this time, didn't tangle your fingers together between sticky bedsheets. He laid there only a few silent moments before reaching for his pants.

"Hey," you called softly, propped up on your elbows. "You're not gonna stay?"

The broad muscles of Steve's back flexed and rolled as he hoisted his jeans over his hips and secured his belt. He pulled his shirt on without turning around, feet shoved into his sneakers before you could even sit all the way up.

"Nah," he said, turning only as he headed for the door. "Gotta...um, study."

Brows furrowing, a small giggle slipped from your mouth. "Study? You don't study."

Another swallow, noisy and paired with two eyes fixed on the floor. His voice neared a whisper when he spoke again. "Trying something new."

You watched him open the door just enough for him to fit through. You hugged your soiled sheets around your bare body and felt the hunger dim to hurt again.

Steve stepped into the doorway and turned his head an inch, but not enough to see those pretty features again. "Later."

You wanted him to miss you again. You wanted to press your nose back into his neck and breathe him in. You wanted him to bring his words down low where they belonged when he spoke to you. You wanted to be his girl for a few moments more, to feel his affection through every drag of his mouth and hands.

But the door closed, and you were left to watch him jog across the street through a sliver in the drapes instead.

Just another t-shirt. Just another girl in love with Steve Harrington.

#rolly!#steve harrington #fratboy!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington au #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine

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crazyinluvfix · 28 days

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DON’T NEED SAVING - a klaus mikaelson oneshot

summary: when klaus brings his girlfriend to meet his family for the first time they don’t exactly welcome her with open arms. namely, rebekah. but as soon as she takes a dagger to her pride she gets ANGRY, and it makes klaus love her even more.

WARNINGS: swearing, depictions of anger / fighting, physical violence ( not domestic )

request: @ranisingsnew

3.7k words

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Klaus swore he would never let his power be dampened by something as frivolous as love - that he’d never be with a woman for more than a fling. He was too good for it. Too strong. Especially to fall for a human.

That was until he met Y/n.

One of his worldly escapades had led him to a place with architecture so beautiful, life so pure, and a certain spark so bold it could capture even him in its wonder.

All of this held his attention so tightly that he didn't even notice what was right in front of him until he hit it. Literally.

His typically sly, dark blue eyes seemed to flash a shade lighter for just a second when he looked up, growing wide at the sight before him. Something even more exquisite and awestriking than the scenery - something he never thought possible. Her.

She looked at him expectantly with an arched eyebrow as his brain practically short-circuited at the smell of the sweet blood beneath her veins.

“I-” he paused. “Sorry, love. Forgive me, I was in my own world,” his stare piercing, gaining back his usual strength after that brief moment of weakness, his signature smirk at home on his lips.

But his face practically dropped in surprise as her’s stayed just as it was; unmoving, unyielding, unimpressed, with arms crossed over her chest as she eyed him up and down.

Klaus felt unusually insufficient under her cold gaze, one that could rival his. He took a step forward, shaking out his shoulders to regain the intimidating presence he was so known for, folding his arms back at her.

“You’re not in a rush, are you?”

The look she gave was incredulous. “That depends, why are you asking?”

This one was feisty, he liked that, he liked a challenge.

His tongue swiped over his teeth with a slight chuckle before speaking again, the lilt in his voice that he used to woo any woman when he wanted to watch them crumble. “I’m new in town, I was hoping you could show me around,” he moved closer, “I’d love to get to know… the place.” A ring-clad hand reached forward to brush a strand of hair from her face.

But she got there before he could.

Her silence was deafening as she mulled the offer over. It wasn’t often that a woman could resist his charms for so long.

“If you’re so desperate to be in my company then fine. You can tag along but I’m not gonna be your little tour guide.”

The stark contrast between her sweet appearance and her fierce attitude was beyond alluring.

Klaus was willing to take anything he could get, feeling more like a lost puppy than he had in over 1000 years, and he was on her leash.

For days he managed to seek her out, every chance he got.

It was a means to an end, the usual end. At least, that’s what he told himself

But the less she fell victim to his charms, the more he was weirdly captured by hers.

Compulsion didn’t seem to work either - did she really make him so weak that he couldn’t perform such a basic function?

Instead, when she got defensive to his advances, it was like she put a spell on him of her own. She wasn’t a witch, but her mind games felt more powerful than any that he had met.

“What do you say we go and get a little drink, huh?” he leaned forward and looked into her eyes, waiting for her pupils to dilate so he could have her right where he wanted her.

“What are you doing?”

Klaus was abruptly taken aback, blinking rapidly as he let out a confused, breathy chuckle. “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything, love,” his eyes never left hers.

“No, that thing with your eyes,” she nodded, dead set on what she saw.

His only instinct was to try again, “You didn’t see anything.”

“There!” she caught it once more, causing him to take a step back; it was safe to say he was completely and utterly perplexed.

“You just did it again! What was that?”

Her eyes seemed to control him instead and he almost stuttered - he never stuttered.

This woman had him - the most powerful man on the planet - wrapped around her tiny little mortal finger.

She and Klaus had been dating for a few months now. After weeks of his constant flowers, letters, paintings, and smooth talk she finally gave in. He couldn’t help but think she only accepted his efforts because she had wanted a break from trying to resist them, and this is what she thought at first too; that she’d let him win for a little while, maybe a couple of weeks, and then break it off.

But as the months passed, she too fell head over heels for him. Over this short time he had already revealed everything to her about his supernatural world, he trusted her with his life and knew that she wouldn’t say a word. Klaus hadn’t thought his attraction to her could get any stronger, but he was now the most whipped he had ever been. She was more than his usual affair or snack. She was his soulmate, he was sure of it.

But Klaus was a family man through and through, and he felt as if it was finally time for them to meet the love of his immortal life.

“I will never let anything happen to you, you know that, right?” Klaus turned to look at his beautiful girlfriend who sat calmly in the passenger seat of his car - he seemed more nervous than she did.

I simply rolled my eyes and laughed, he was so protective it almost hurt. “I know, Nik. You’ve told me about a thousand times already.”

He just smiled. “I have. But I just wanted to warn you that they’re not always the most friendly bunch - obviously that skipped me.” He tried to end on a quip to ease my mind, something he wouldn’t have thought to do for anyone else.

His family had a very complicated history, and a lot of it revolved around him, so their feelings toward him fluctuated on the daily. It was a fact that he was the strongest; and even though he wasn’t the oldest he was by far the boss of the Mikaelson group. So if any one of them put even one bad word on my name he was more than ready to tear them apart.

I had heard all about the family drama - Klaus was undoubtedly one to gossip - but I knew I could handle anything they threw at me on my own, even if it was from an original vampire.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Klaus turned the key to the ornate wooden doors, swinging them open with his usual dramatics as he took my hand and led me inside.

My jaw immediately dropped. ‘Humble,’ definitely didn’t do it justice.

I had expected it to be nice, but this house was beyond lavish, stunning, massive - not the dark cave many would expect from a bunch of ancient vampires.

Klaus had obviously noticed the look of awe sweep my face because he laughed, that low chuckle he always did that set my heart on fire.

Subtleties in his eyes told me that he was glad I liked it so much. I had heard from many that they found my boyfriend incredibly hard to read, which was actually quite a shock to me because I had pried open the windows to his soul the very moment I met him.

He never freed my hand from his he led us into the main room. “Where are they?” he scanned the area and listened for footsteps upstairs since they did know we were coming.

“Kol! Elijah! Rebekah! Come down!” he shouted throughout the grand house and made me giggle. He really was the leader of the family.

A variety of shouts called back before three figures sped down to the bottom floor.

Two men and one woman. One of the men wore more casual clothes, a jacket over a button-up shirt and some jeans - much like how Klaus typically dressed - while the other wore a full suit at 4 pm on a Tuesday. They both practically scowled at the sight of me, but the blonde girl was the worst. I couldn’t tell if that was how her face fell or if she was purposefully staring daggers through me as if to telepathically wound me with her attitude - she looked like a blast…

Klaus then stepped forward, bringing me with him, a happy grin on his face, “Brothers, Rebekah, this is my wonderful Y/n.” His hand gestured towards me with a softness none of them had seen before, not that they cared.

I noticed how they all seemed to size me up. They were silent, but their mannerisms spoke louder than their words ever could’ve. The vibe that was given off immediately was that I was being judged.

Nevertheless, I chose to be polite, to be the bigger person - you’d think for people who had been alive so long they would’ve had the time to learn manners. “Nice to meet you all,” I offered a warm smile that none of them returned. Tough crowd.

Soon, the awkward introductions were over and we all went to sit in the living room. As we walked over Klaus leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “They’re always a bit cranky around this time,” smirking as he knew that they were vampires and would most definitely hear him. I could not help but let out a small laugh.

Klaus, of course, made sure I sat as close to him as physically possible when we got to the couch, his arm around my shoulder as everyone else sat on the other chairs around the room.

The conversation started light; ‘What do you do for work,’ ‘Where are you from,’ etc.

Meanwhile, the blonde who I now know to be Rebekah had not spoken a word, that was until she shouted out in the middle of my answer to one of Elijah’s questions.

“So, what do you want with him?” she referred to her brother and I could practically feel him roll his eyes behind me.

“Is it his money? Or is it that you want to become like us?” she assumed, the thought making her laugh out loud.

I felt Klaus’ hand tighten around mine and the way his chest rose when he took a deep breath in, “Rebekah.” His tone was strict, warning.

“Shh,” I ran my fingertips over his knuckles, quickly looking back to tell him it was okay before turning back to Rebekah.

“Neither, believe it or not,” my smile was sweet, but also slightly condescending. “I’m with him because we love each other, is that so hard to believe?” I made sure to keep my words friendly, even though I could not help the undertones of my annoyance at her insolence slip through.

“Hm,” she hummed shortly, practically looking down her nose at me from across the room. “It is, actually. Nik has never been one for love, right brothers?” she gestured to the two men for them to back her up, but it seemed like they knew to say nothing.

The scoff that left my lips was very much involuntary, but it seemed to add to her frustration which I admittedly took some pride in. “Hm,” I mimicked her sound, “that’s funny because he seems to love me an awful lot, at first I thought too much,” I giggled and the man in question did too, an effort to keep the tension light while subtly trying to keep her in her place. Which didn’t work.

“Interesting,” she didn’t sound like she cared in the slightest, giving up on making conversation with me and directing her next question to her brother. “It just shocks me, Nik, that you would go for her when you could have any woman in the world. I never thought you’d choose such an… average human.”

Klaus was practically seething, the more she spoke the tenser he got and the closer he approached to his tipping point.

“I mean,” she continued, clearly incredibly amused at both of our reactions, “why don’t you just dump her now and we could all just have a little snack? That’s what your plan is anyway, right? Dinner’s on you tonight.”

My hand stayed firmly on his leg to stop him from getting up, telling him softly that it was okay and that I had got this - I didn’t need saving, not from her.

“Where did you even find this chick?” Rebekah let out a shrill laugh but was quickly taken aback when she saw someone stand up in anger.

And it wasn’t Klaus.

It was an instinct to shoot up, and when Nik brought his hand to mine to get me to sit down I removed it and laughed back at her myself. “You know, you have some serious audacity, Rebekah,” I spat out her name as everyone watched on in suspense, waiting for the incoming catfight.

Her jaw dropped in disbelief, a choked sound coming leaving her throat before she returned, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh,” I chuckled darkly, “I’m serious alright. You have no right to say anything about my relationship just because you obviously can’t get someone of your own. He’s your brother, you’re not his little lap dog. So hop off my dick little vamp girl and go find someone else’s to ride.”

The longer I sat there and listened to her kick-off, the more strength bubbled up inside of me ready to burst. Now that it was out I felt even better, especially when I saw her expression; eyes wide, mouth open, too stunned to get out more than a few intelligible stutters. Shocked that some ‘average human girl’ could fire back so strongly.

Meanwhile, as I spoke Klaus was watching over, but the smirk on his face was nothing but a proud one. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at how amazing this was - she usually carried such a sweet disposition, but the fieriness he was seeing now was definitely something he could get used to. He had always been a sucker for confrontation and riling his family up, and the fact that she could add to that made him love her even more.

“You little-” Rebekah spat furiously, slowly going to stand up herself.

I cut her off. “What? What else could you possibly have to say?” I looked at her expectantly, putting my hands on my hips, but she said nothing. “That’s what I thought. Now I see why Nik put you in a box for a hundred years. It’s been what? Fifteen minutes and you’ve already questioned my love, my loyalty, and shouted out death threats. You may be immortal, Rebekah, but you need to learn that that doesn’t make you a God.”

Every word I came back at her with only strengthened the grin on Klaus’ face - he loved his siblings in his own way, but nothing made him happier than seeing his girl stand up for herself and put them in their place. A few times he had to stop himself from getting up and intervening, but he couldn’t. He would’ve stepped in if he could tell this was taking a toll, but deep down he had always known that I was just like him, we were both just having too much fun.

Rebekah looked utterly defeated, clearly not used to having someone push back at her snarky comments so this was seemingly long overdue. So much so that I even earned a smirk and a look of newfound respect from the brother in formal wear, Elijah.

But that’s when blondie had finally had enough.

Within less than a split second, she sped over and grabbed me by the throat, pinning me to the wall at the back of the room and squeezing so my air supply was restricted, my feet dangling just above the floor.

“You dare speak to me like that, you filthy little…” she hissed, bringing her face close to mine and watching maliciously as my eyes grew wider.

But if I thought she moved fast, Klaus travelled at twice her speed in the blink of an eye, rushing to my rescue. His hands made quick work of prying her off of me and shoving her to the wall instead, reaching down to the back of his shoe where his trousers were baggy enough to conceal - and he pulled out a shiny, silver dagger.

I could do nothing but stand there stock still while the scene played out in front of me, the other brothers shooting up too but doing the same as me.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that again,” his voice was low, yet scarily loud, but that’s not what seemed to panic Rebekah. No, she was focused on the dagger he held against her sternum, the point brushing against her top.

‘You take a dagger to her pride, I take a dagger to your heart.’ Klaus’ mind whirred with anger.

Just as she opened her mouth to plea for her brother's forgiveness or offer some half-assed apology which she would prove false the moment he let her go, he plunged the dagger into her chest. She let out a high-pitched wince as his eyes still burned into hers with pure loathing.

“Now, say you’re sorry,” he snarled darkly - so this was the Klaus I had heard about. Cruel, righteous, formidable. And the worst part; I wasn’t even scared. I may have gasped at the suddenness of his actions, but I could not help the feeling that arose within me when I saw him choose me over his own flesh and blood without so much as a second thought.

She choked on her own words, “I- I’m sorry.” Her eyes never left his.

His hand moved to twist the knife, releasing another squeak from the victim of his wrath. He spoke firmly and finally, as if this was her last warning, “To her.”

That’s when she finally turned her head to face me, “I’m sorry… Y/n.” It looked like it killed her to force out those words, but it was better than being killed again with the dagger that was hairs away from causing her to be put in a coffin for another century.

As soon as Klaus felt she had been sincere enough he ripped the blade out, his face still serious as he wiped the blood off on the fabric of his jacket. “Go,” he said plainly, not even wasting his energy on looking up from his hands. All three of them listened - I assumed that upon his revelation of the dagger (which none of them knew he had so close), they now were thinking only of themselves, fleeing the scene before they met their fates again.

They all vanished in one quick woosh leaving only me and Klaus who had shifted back into my sickeningly sweet Nik once more upon their departure.

I hadn’t even noticed that I had been clutching my chest this whole time, only taking it off when he moved his gaze to me and that wicked look in his eyes softened instantaneously into one that made me feel right at home, hurrying to me to make sure I was okay.

Without having time to even register everything that just happened I was encased in the arms of my saviour, him resting his head on top of mine while a hand moved up to gently stroke my hair. To anyone else, thinking of him acting in such a caring manner after being so ruthless would’ve been unimaginable. But to me? It was all I’d ever known.

“Shh. You’re okay, love,” he cooed before pulling back slightly and cradling my head in both his hands, bringing his soft lips to plant a tender kiss on my forehead.

I looked up at him like he was the only thing in the world; the way he had looked at me every time since the day we met.

“I’m sorry that I exposed you to that part of me, it was something I had hoped you’d never see.” Apologies didn’t come naturally to Klaus… that was, to everyone but me.

Nothing was said, I let my actions speak for themselves as a genuine smile formed on my face and I hopped up onto my tiptoes to kiss him fervently. He seemed rather shocked at the sudden change in tone, but it’s not like he was complaining. Instead, he happily reciprocated my movements, a mischievous, goofy grin left on him in the wake of my lips as I pulled back.

“Don’t apologise,” I shook my head at him in reassurance, “I thought it was sexy,” biting my lip in a teasing manner as I put his racing mind at rest - he truly was such a sweetie behind closed doors. It was honestly a shame the world would never see him the way I did - but then again, that would mean I would have to share him, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

His bright blue eyes lit up as I spoke, in a way as if to ask ‘Really?’

In response to his silent appeal for confirmation, I nodded.

“At least you’ve met them now so you finally know what I mean when I complain about my family,” he used a tone much lighter than before now that he wasn’t shouting or apologising.

A laugh escaped me, causing me to quickly cover my mouth, “I guess you weren’t joking, huh?”

Sighing in reply he shook his head in embarrassment, thinking he should’ve never taken me here in the first place. “Come, let’s go somewhere else, somewhere nicer.” His head cocked to the side as he held out an arm for me to cling to, signalling for us both to leave.

My hand graciously slipped forward to meet his request as we walked toward the door, looking up at him one last time. “You’re my hero, Klaus Mikaelson.”

Upon hearing the giggle I let out after my words his smile only widened. “Always and forever, my love.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

requests in bio x

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#klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the originals #fluff #angst #tvd #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus isn’t as scary as he seems #grumpy x sunshine #(klaus miklaelson is the sunshine)

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hauntedwitch04 · 8 months

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I hate you Black

Regulus Black x reader

Words: about 4.1k words

Warnings: some angst, sexy Reggie and some funny times

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It's so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. This is my first time writing for the kinktober, hope you enjoy my writing.

P.s. i don't really now how much is hate fuck this fic, but here we are.

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KINKTOBER -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 1: Hate fucking

To say that Regulus and I do not get along is an understatement.

We have been part of the same group of friends, namely the Marauders, for years now, since both my brother, James, and his brother, Sirius, are best friends, in fact they often consider each other almost brothers, on the contrary however the two of us have not been able to find common ground and usually always end up insulting each other and playing stupid jokes to irritate the other person.

Since our first year at Hogwarts, we have clashed because of our pride and desire to prove ourselves better than the other, and this challenge has continued outside of school, in everyday life.

This party is no different.

Sirius and Remus wanted to inaugurate the new apartment they decided to get, to live together, after being together for almost a year already, and so they threw a party with all their closest friends, including me and the younger Black.

I don't quite remember how I ended up straddling him with my hands around his neck, but I do remember the reason for that choice. Between his various jokes and yet another spilled glass on my favorite shirt because of his "carelessness," although we all know that if anyone is graceful it is him, the moment he mentioned what is now my ex-boyfriend. Just before coming to the party, in fact, that asshole decided to break up with me, telling me that he never actually felt anything really important for me, and that I was merely a fling that lasted too long and that now he actually already has another girlfriend and I was just in the way. A year and a half. We stayed together a year and a half, and he had to say that and turn away without looking back, or without a bit of shame or guilt, he didn't even apologize to me for shamelessly cheating on me. Part of me didn't even want to come to the party, but I love Siri and Remmy too much to let them down, so I took heart and convinced myself that I would have a good time, but at Regulus' words, "Where's your boyfriend? Is he tired of you too?", I saw no more. Smoke began to come out of my ears, my vision turned black, and inside I felt only a single emotion.

I realize what I was doing only after James detaches me from Regulus, while Sirius grabs his brother, and pulls him away from me.

"Are you totally crazy? You could have killed me!" Says Regulus shocked as he holds a hand to his throat, still struggling to breathe.

"Too bad, it will be for next time then." I answer coldly, to go toward the hall to get my coat, while I quickly apologize to the hosts and say I have to go home, because I don't feel too well. Both James and Sirius, Remus and Lily try to stop me, thinking it's because of guilt, but I really don't want them to see me crying and having to explain later that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me and left me, and now I just feel like a pathetic little girl who can't be loved.

I hurry out of the house and immediately get hit by the cold autumn wind, which envelops me like a hug and shakes my hair, making it go over my face, thus tickling my nose. I smile and start walking toward my house, although it is quite far away, in fact I had come with my brother. I try to contain my emotions, but the tranquility and peace of the city at this hour give me enough security to let my tears flow freely down my cheeks. There is not a living soul to judge me, or so I thought.

I hear footsteps approaching behind me, someone is running toward me, so I turn around and see a breathless Regulus Black standing still, leaning on his knees and signaling to me to wait a second.

I try to wipe away my tears so that he can see that I was crying, but it is too late now, because his expression immediately changes and he seems confused by what he is seeing.

"I don't need your stupid excuses, go back to the others and tell them the bitch is not ready to be insulted by you again." I say trying to distract him as I turn and start walking faster, but a hand grabs my shoulder and makes me turn around.

"Are you crying?" Regulus asks, under his breath, as if even he does not believe the scene before him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are as sharp as Sherlock Holmes." I say trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he brings his second hand to my face, and wipes away a couple of tears that had reached my chin.

"If it's something I said, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't want to come and apologize, they forced me, however, I never wanted to make you cry, I was just playing with you." He continues, not caring what I had said. He looks me straight in the eye and I see his sincerity, and I don't know why I start to cry more. He looks at me unsure of what to do, before hugging me. As we are squeezed in that hug I tell him the real reason I was crying and apologize to him for what I had done earlier at the party. As I finish my story, he pulls away from that hold and looks into my eyes again.

"Hey, he's the asshole, not you. And he's also stupid if he didn't see the magnificent person he had beside him." He tells me firmly and sweetly at the same time.

"Says the boy who has been insulting me since we were eleven years old." I reply sarcastically as I stare into his eyes, and I can't lie to myself. I've always thought Regulus is a handsome boy, but damn, right now he looks like a deity come down to earth to teach us what beauty is.

"Hey I may be an asshole, maybe even a little stupid, but it's not like I'm blind." He continues, smiling at me as he looks at my lips. "You know I think I found a more appropriate way to apologize." He whispers as he moves even closer to my lips.

My brain cannot process the moment, everything seems fuzzy. Its scent, fresh mint, coffee and cigarettes, intoxicates me like a drug, and I can't do anything but screw it up to do what my instinct tells me to do.

"Know that it will not be easy to make it up to you for everything you have done to me. You were very, very mean to me." I whisper before kissing him, tired of that game.

I feel like giving my first kiss for the second time. Our lips chase each other, eating each other, needing each other. I feel my hands run through his hair, while his rests on my hips and draws me to him in a death grip.

We continue kissing, and time seems to stop, even the dry leaves seem to stand still in the air, waiting for our future to be drawn, anxious to see our next move.

Eventually we part, to catch our breath, and a faint laugh escapes from my lips.

"Know that I hate you anyway." I tell him and he can't help but chuckle, before taking on a serious look.

"Would you like to come to my house. You know I'd like to apologize for good, and show you that you've had really bad taste in men so far." He says seductively in my ear.

"You have to be careful what you say Black, because it could backfire on you with this sentence." I reply, trying to hide the emotions it is stirring in me.

"No baby, I'm going to show you how a real man should treat you, and not the idiot you used to date." He continues, whispering on my lips, before leaving a light kiss, as light as a butterfly resting gracefully on a flower.

"Know that this does not take away from the fact that I hate you." I reply, still partly in trance after that kiss.

"This just means that I will have to work harder at apologizing." Regulus replies, before stepping back a little, and removing the scarf around his neck, to give it to me. I didn't even notice that I'm shaking, too engrossed in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to my place, it's not too far." Says the boy, putting an arm on my shoulder, thus blocking any possibility of my thinking with his intoxicating scent for the second time this evening. After a few minutes of walking we arrive in front of a dark door, for which young Black quickly pulls out the key to open it.

Once inside the house, I am amazed at how the entire apartment is furnished. Dark furniture stands out against the green and white walls. Soft lights illuminate the rooms, giving it a cozy atmosphere. Every item is meticulously placed in a studied spot, everything is perfect, every note played with the right pitch to create a wonderful harmony.

I am lost in looking around the room when I feel a pair of hands drawing me toward them.

One hand gently removes my scarf, while another turns me around. In Regulus' eyes I see pure pleasure, and this only creates an unpleasant wet feeling in my panties.... We look at each other for a second before pouncing on each other like hungry prey, moving slowly down the stairs and into the bedroom. He pulls me back until I touch the bed with my knees, then drops me down, pulling away from the kiss. I look at him and see his lips red and swollen as he struggles to catch his breath. His hair is messy from my fingers, yet he has never looked more beautiful to me than in this moment. I watch him slowly approach the button of my jeans like a fierce lion studying its prey, and then with a precise and quick gesture, unbutton my pants. In the blink of an eye these lie on the floor, tossed from some indefinite part of the room. The only thing now separating him from his goal is my underwear, but before he can take the next step, I gently place a foot on his chest and look seductively at him.

"Hold your horses Black, if you want to play with me you have to do it right. One garment each at a time, I lost my pants, now you have to take something off." I say looking at him carefully, and he chuckles at my words.

"You can be really obnoxious Potter, you know that?" He asks wryly as he removes his sweatshirt, revealing his bare chest, since he has no shirt underneath. For a moment I am breathless at that ethereal sight. Her white skin glows in the moonlight entering the room. His physique is muscular but not overly so, I can tell he works out a lot and holds himself, but it's also not excessive. I get flashbacks of seeing him practicing Quidditch at Hogwarts shirtless with sweaty hair in the wind, and immediately I find myself having to make the physical effort to not cum in that same instant.

"I try my best." I respond seductively as I watch him lower himself, going on his knees, getting to be at the same level as my pussy.

"Now if you don't mind, I have a promise to keep: to prove that your asshole ex is nothing compared to me." He says before pouncing on me as if I were a feast. I don't have time to respond because he immediately starts kissing my inner thigh, both from the right and the left until he reaches his booty. Slowly, with his teeth, he grabs my panties, leaving a few wet kisses on my skin and making me shiver, and slowly he slides them all the way down my legs.

It is the most terrible, nerve-wracking, and sexy torture I have ever had to endure.

"I thought you were supposed to make it up to me Black, not make me madder." I say in a voice little louder than a sigh as I feel his hot breath on the center of my pleasure.

"Oh baby, I still have to start apologizing, and get ready because I want to do it right." He says, as he caresses the most intimate part of me with his lips. A second later, pure pleasure invades my every sense as he begins to kiss the lips of my pussy. I feel his tongue caressing me, as my hands wriggle in his hair, drawing him ever closer to the center of my pleasure, and with my eyes around his name like a song, between moans and expletives. I hear him smile at my reaction, and just as I was about to respond rudely to him, he increases my torture by adding a finger, taking it in and out of my opening. A few minutes thus pass, me hovering on the edge of pleasure, just as he looks up and shifts slightly. His mouth is completely wet from my pleasure, while I curse for the missed orgasm.

"You'd better finish what you started Black, because I swear that on the contrary you can distantly forget any chance of me being more generous to you." I say, trying to catch my breath.

"I was just catching my breath for the grand finale." He replies with a small smile, seeing my desperation.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think that's what we're doing baby. What, I'm too good and you're not used to feeling so much pleasure?" He says smiling again as again, he turns me around kissing my entire thigh.

"By Merlin, how I hate you Black." I gasp, between groans.

"Try to convince yourself of this all you want honey, but we both know that right now your orgasms depend on me." And with that he begins his feast again, with more eagerness, and again, in a few minutes I am again on the brink of absolute pleasure, but this time I manage to go further, and for a moment I feel like I can touch the sky with my finger. I feel the blankets tighten between my fingers as I moan his name, almost screaming it, as if I want the world to know who was responsible for so much pleasure.

A few seconds pass, as I try to regain possession of my body and mind, before he speaks again.

"Fuck, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He says giggling, before starting to kiss my body again, slowly, savoring every inch. He pulls off my shirt, as I now recovered from all that unexpected pleasure, taking off my bra. I see him staring at my breasts, before teasing my nipples, one with his tongue and one with his fingers. He bites, sucking my breasts, leaving signs of his passage as I try not to lose myself again in that spiral of pleasure.

"Damn, you don't know how long I've wanted to touch them, taste them, mark them as my own." He says in a gasp, before switching nipples and moving on to the other. Meanwhile then I try to distract him by opening his pants, but as soon as I try to touch his dick, he stops and moves my hand away, looking me straight in the eye.

"Tonight is just for you, not for me, now let me continue and make you feel like the goddess you are." At her words I can't help but hold back a sigh of pleasure.

"Now I understand why everyone was falling at your feet in school, you really have a gift for talking to girls." I say, as I feel his lips go up my neck, leaving me biting and hickeys as he passes.

"Too bad the one girl I really wanted did nothing but blow me off and tell me she hated me." She tells me, before kissing me passionately. Somehow I can still taste myself on his lips, or rather in his mouth, as we explore every nook and cranny of it with our tongues.

"Maybe he was telling you that he hated you, because all he could do was wish to fuck you in the broom closet." I answer between kisses as I hear him take off his underpants and pull down his underwear.

For the first time I realize perhaps truly the situation I am in. Our naked bodies, rubbing against each other, dancing a love dance of their own, as we struggle against each other to win.

He chuckles at my words as he moves to kiss me along my arm, while using his hand to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom and put it on as he counters.

"And I would rather tell you that I hated you than confess that every night I dreamed of fucking you against a wall." He pauses for a moment, and smiles at me before continuing, with that obnoxious grin of his. "Although I would have said you were more of a quickie in the bathroom type."

"It happened only once, and with a Ravenclaw prick who had already done half my year, while I was half-drunk at a party, after watching you stick your tongue half a foot down the throat of a Hufflepuff slut." I confess by looking into his eyes, and I notice that amidst the pleasure now also shines a spark of astonishment. "Now get a move on, though, Black, for now you're all talk and no action." I continue, with an amused little smile.

"Merlin, if you say one more word, I swear I'll plug your mouth with your panties." He says, taking his dick in his hand, aligning it with my entrance.

"Oh you just have to try, assh- Oh my god!" I try to respond, but he blocks me by entering me overbearingly, immediately I feel my body almost leave the earthly world for pleasure. His dick is bigger than I would have expected, and certainly bigger than my ex's. Immediately he seems to touch all the places that give me the most pleasure, and my mind cannot process a concrete thought.

"I hate you Black." This is the only thing I can say as he is still still inside me, making me get used to his size. "I don't think I can do without your dick from now on, and this is all your fault." I continue as he tries to move slowly, in and out of me, as he murmurs a few dirty words under his breath.

"Oh you are adorable baby." He says before kissing my neck again as he increases the force and speed of his thrusts. "But if you really think I would let you go after this time you are crazy. I hate you too you know, I hate the fact that I am now addicted to this tight, hot, wet pussy of yours. Fuck I think I've found heaven." He gasps near my ear. We continue this dance like this, until a few minutes later, we are almost at the height of pleasure.

"Please Reg, don't stop. I'm cumming:" I plead with him, before stifling my continued moans of pleasure, leaving kisses, bites and hickeys on his neck as my hands scratch his muscular back. I feel him stiffen at my touch.

"Me too baby." He gasps, then increases the speed. A few thrusts, and we both reach orgasm.

We remain still for a moment, enjoying that feeling of pleasure and the warmth of the closeness of our bodies. We don't say a word, let silence fill the space between us, before we kiss again.

This time the kiss is different, not passionate and oozing sex like the others, it is more gentle and sweet, as if through that contact we want to express all those repressed feelings kept inside us all these years and that we cannot describe in words.

He moves from on top of me and lies on his side, while still keeping his arms around my waist. I slowly feel fatigue take possession of me as he gets out of bed to head for the bathroom and get a towel with which my private parts, now too sensitive, in fact a shiver runs down my spine and he seeing it apologizes to me.

When he is finished he lies down again beside me and hugs me, making me feel warm and safe. Just before I fall asleep I look into his eyes and manage to say something.

"You're on the right path to forgiveness, but maybe you need to try a little harder." And he can't help but laugh at those words. "I don't hate you that much anyway, I guess." I continue, as I snuggle against his chest.

"Fortunately." He replies. "Because I don't hate you at all, maybe just the opposite I dare say. "

The next morning I wake up after him. Regulus is already out of bed. He is wearing a pair of sweatpants, and he is shirtless. I can tell right away that he has just gotten out of the shower because I can see his wet hair, however, I can hear him talking to someone on the phone. Feeling my eyes on him he turns and sees that I am awake, and he smiles at me.

"Yes Sirius, I promise I didn't say anything stupid." He says with a bored look on his face as he watches me sit up in bed, my hair still tousled from sleep.

"I apologized, very deeply last night, but I may have to do it one more time to make sure you understand what I meant." She continues to talk to her brother as she gives me a wink and immediately I feel my cheeks go hot from what she said.

"Yes, yes. I love you too. Bye Siri, see you later." He greets his brother as he turns around and then sets the phone down on one of the pieces of furniture next to him, and there I realize all the marks I left on him last night. In the night we then woke up and made love a couple more times. Just thinking about it I feel my pussy getting all wet, even just remembering all that happened.

"I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up but since you are already awake I would suggest you take a shower while I make you breakfast. Is that okay with you?" He asks me, and I can't find my voice to answer him, so I smile and nod. He smiles back, leaving me a kiss on my forehead and then goes downstairs to cook.

I stay in bed for a second and letting out a sigh I realize perhaps for the first time that I hated Regulus Black so much, that I ended up falling in love with him, since the line is so thin that for a long time you can think you are hovering between the two, and only when you land do you realize that you slipped into one of the two worlds long before.

BONUS

Remus watches Sirius talk to his brother on the phone as he asks him if he finally apologized to little Potter. Once the call is over Sirius puts the phone down and looks at his boyfriend.

"They fucked." Remus says, before sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

"They got laid." Sirius confirms, laughing, while Lily, who had stayed over with her boyfriend James, sighs with relief.

"Finally, the situation was becoming unbearable. By now all you could do every time was expect them to jump at each other's throats with a knife or fuck in the guest bathroom." Lily says as she looks at James, who has a horrified look on his face.

"Hey, we're still talking about my little sister!" He says, looking at his friends and his girlfriend.

"Look at it this way, at least now we're really brothers." Try proposing Sirius.

"And probably uncles, too." Remus and Lily say in unison.

No one can hold back a laugh seeing James' horrified face.

TAGLIST (Kinktober special)

@samanddeansannoyingsis @forsiriussake @thedogisontopofyhecarmom @estrellademiel @ohemgeewhat @kidsaproblem @camelliaflow3r @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @hi-my-name-is-riley @morganalatina21 @nightfiress @shodowbane09 @theyluvtrinity21 @supernatural-lvr

#marauders x reader #hauntedwitch04's writing #becky's halloween party #halloween party #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus imagine #marauders smut #marauders imagine

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snailpaste · 1 month

Note

Can i get some McSugarDaddy Crocodile headcannons but reader actually has feelings for croco? ive been thinking about this a little too much lately

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile x GN!Reader

CONTENT: Crocodile x GN! Reader, SFW, kind of mutual pining

AN: This isn't what i wanted but if I didn’t post it now I think it’d just go to the great fic graveyard in my drive (30 and counting) sorry for the wait ;-;

You’d caught crocodile’s eye at one of the many Gala’s he hosted (after all, charity was always a brilliant way for him to further his influence, to make connections and gain power), where he’d struck up conversation with you after asking to share a drink. It had gone well, and by the time the event had drawn to an end he’d given you his den den number and offered to pay for your taxi home.

Crocodile wasn’t one to chase after people, much more content to work on furthering himself or his many business enterprises. He simply didn’t need to – there were enough many men and women willing to fling themselves at him should he ever be in need of company – which is why he found it so strange that, not but two days after meeting you at a Gala, here he was, den-den pulled closer towards him on his desk than usual, eyes flickering to it every so often as he worked through the growing heap of paperwork.

rest under cut ->

If anyone were to ask why, not they would ever question him, he’d simply tell them he was waiting on an important business call, rather than hoping for a stranger, who’s laugh he unfortunately hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, to call.

Your arrangement started as “purely transactional,” in the words of Crocodile.

He didn’t expect sexual favours (at least, to begin with) but simply wanted your company at events, a presence beside him to help gnaw away at the tedious meetings and public appearances he endured in the name of business. You’d wake up with a voice message on your den den, telling you to be ready at 7, with details scarce aside from to check your mailbox, inside which was a new outfit fitting for whatever event he saw fit to bring you to. Over time as he learned more about you, they became more and more tailored to your tastes.

He kept things distant at the start. His touches were modest, an arm around your waist or shoulder, a hand guiding you at the small of your back, but nothing more. You found yourself begging to crave his touch, leaning into the warmth of his palm or wrapping your own around his arm.

His conversations, while interesting, never betrayed any of his true emotions, and he opted to leave you with cash rather than buying anything else for you specifically. Gradually, you began to hope might actually start to open up to you. What did he look like unguarded? How did he look when he was at peace

As the weeks passed, you found yourself growing accustomed to his presence, the initial intimidation and curiosity replaced by a quiet comfort. Crocodile listens to whatever you have to say intently, eyes never leaving your face, always asking the right questions and relishing in the way you blush when he leans closer to you, blowing cigar smoke out the window and brushing your hair out of your face.

While Crocodile isn’t out of touch with his feelings, he does prefer to ignore them. He immediately noticed how you changed towards him, leaning your head into his hand when he cupped your cheek and laughing a little bit more openly, and sneaking looks when you thought he didn’t notice – he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart feel just a little warmer.

Your dates, as you unknowingly began to phrase them much to his amusement, became far more frequent, with him using anything as an excuse to be around you for longer. Crocodile, it seemed, had an uncanny ability to understand your desires. He took you to places and events you’d been wanting to go to without you asking, such as art galleries, cosy bookstores and grand libraries, or bookings at theatres or cinemas.

Crocodile encourages you to pursue any and all of your interests- there’s nothing he admires more than when you go off on a tangent about something you’re passionate about, or your dedication. With him, money isn’t an issue, he’ll happily pay whatever fees you might need to achieve.

Your relationship progressed from you being a pretty thing draped off of his arm, another way for him to flaunt his wealth and power, to something more personal. He surprised you with a visit to something you’d mentioned excitedly to him weeks ago, booked the wing of a restaurant you fancied for just the two of you, and invited you with him to the opening evening of an exclusive art exhibition of his favourite movement.

It was only when he caught himself thinking about you with a smile while smoking his evening cigar, that crocodile decided to address how he felt– whatever it was.

After a long night that left you nodding off and leaning against him, crocodile opted to take you back to his house. He’d carried you up to a guest room with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, placing you down in the bed and mumbling a soft good-night into your hair. It was then that, in your half-asleep stupor, you accidentally confessed your feelings, clinging sleepily to his shoulders and mumbling for him to stay with you. He didn’t make a big deal of it, but he felt his heart skip a beat, and allowed you to cuddle against his chest until you fell asleep.

The following morning he told you plainly and simply, wanting to cut the tension that ran thick as you drank him out of the corner of your eye (and how could you not, with normally slicked back hair in loose waves, ringed hands sliding you a coffee across the island, his bare chest peeking through his dark brocade dressing gown) that he was interested in you, interested in a relationship more than this.

After this, he begins to open up- lets you run your hands through his hair from behind, and stay at his house as often as you’d like. His laughs become lighter and more genuine, and you find he has a dimple in his left cheek whenever he smiles just so.

He still buys you gifts and treats you, but now they’re far more intimate, and more tailored to your tastes than ever. He takes you with him on his business trips around the globe, letting you soak in the sun or encouraging you to explore the attractions while he attends to business.

He surprises you with gifts delivered directly to your house, a box of your favourite treats, each delicately wrapped in coloured paper, a potted plant he collected from your shared trip to alabasta, or something he saw you looking at or considering buying with his own note attached. Another time, he appeared at your doorstep with an assortment of flowers, (he’s very into “classic courting”) each flower was one he picked carefully to reflect a message to you.

His love languages are quality time and acts of service, but he craves physical touch and, as you find, becomes quite clingy when he’s tired. He loves sharing baths with you, holding you to his chest and relaxing in the warm bubbles, and on his one day of rest per week, lazing around in bed with you during the early morning hours.

The time he realised he was well and truly in love with you was when you were sitting in his lap, his arm looped around your waist and hand smoothing over your cheek, as you had reached up to trace your fingertips over his raised scar. He’d felt his heart jump into his throat at the feeling, realising he’d never allow anyone else to touch him there, and when you smiled at the light dusting to his cheeks, he realised he was well and truly fucked.

#snailpaste: moots #snailpaste: inbox #snailpaste: writing #op:crocodile #crocodile x gn reader #crocodile x gender neutral reader #one piece x gn reader #one piece x gender neutral reader #crocodile x reader #one piece x reader

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astrolynnworld · 5 months

Text

blue confessions

pairing: matt x reader

summary: matt confesses his feelings to the reader at the countdown of midnight

warnings: fluff! new years, confessions, love, romance.

a/n- should of been posted yesterday but oh well 🫠

word count: 979

i do some last minute cleansing and preparations as i get ready to start my year anew and fresh.

nick had invited a few friends over so we can celebrate our last hours of 2023 together.

i finish getting ready and put on my coat so i can head over to the house.

everyone arrived at various times but i was one of the first people to get there.

i’ve been friends with the triplets for about 7 years now, at first i met nick but he soon after introduced me to his brothers who i’ve been close with every since.

especially matt, matt is really like my best friend. since day one, matt & i have have a different type of connection where we understand each other on a different level

he’s always been there for me, as i have with him.

“hey!! happy new year” nick says as he opens the door to let me in

“happy new year!” i say while going in for a hug

“wow it’s been in a long year.” i continue

“tell me about it.. a lot has happened this year, from hitting 5 million subs to going on tour again.. it’s been a crazy year”

“yup, sad to see it end but ready to watch it go” i laugh

from the corner of my eye i can see chris coming up the stairs

“oh hey chris! happy new year” i say as i walk in for a hug

“yup! new year.” he greets back, “where’s the food?” he proceeds to ask

“chris shut up. it’s on the way, you can wait.” nick answers annoyingly

i chuckle at their banter

“where’s matt?” i ask out loud

“he’s probably in still his room getting ready, you can go check on him if you want” nick responds

i nod and make my way down the hall to his room.

i do my little signature knock that i do so he knows it’s me

“come in!” he shouts from the door

i open the door and walk in to give him a hug

“heyyy matt!!” i gleefully say

“why are you so happy?” he asks with a confused face

“cause it’s new year’s eve!!” i respond with more enthusiasm

“big plans for 2024?” he asks

“no plans, just hopes and wants.” i respond

“yeah? what do you hope and want?” he asks again

“i kinda hope for a genuine connection and relationship..” i say shyly

“really?”

“yeah. i just feel like im tired of meaningless flings or situationships. we’re only getting older.. i want something real” i say

“i feel you 100%” he reassures

“yeah.” i look down, “but anyway! do you have anything you’re looking forward too?”

“not really. i just wanna let the year play out how it’s supposed too.” he replies

“yeah i see th-“ im interrupted as the door swings open

“our friends are here. stop hiding in the room” says nick

“we’re not hiding” matt says as he gets up to make his way to the living room

i follow shortly behind

after a few hours of party games and jokes, we just hang around to enjoy our last few minutes of 2023

i go in the kitchen to grab some water and shortly after, matt follows along

he nervously stands there in silence for a bit pretending to be occupied before striking up a conversation

“before the year end i kinda just wanted to let you know that i really do appreciate our friendship” he says sentimentally

“aww matt, that’s so sweet.”

“i know i don’t really say it often but i do love you. maybe in more ways than i should to be honest.” he looks down

“huh? what do you mean?” i ask

“well you’re the person i can count on the most, other than nick and chris. you’re always there for me when i need you to be and i feel like i relate you on a deeper level. you just understand me as a person and i love and appreciate you a lot for it.”

i go in for a hug, “matt i love you so much! you’re gonna make me cry”

he hugs back but doesn’t seem fulfilled

“matt what’s wrong? you seem unfinished?” i ask still embraced in his grasp

“cause that’s not all i want to say. i just don’t know how to say it” he says

suddenly we hear our friends in the other room start the new year countdown

“well you better hurry before the new year begins” i chuckle

“six.. five” we hear from the other room

i stare up as he looks down at me with his mouth agape as he prepares himself

“two.. one-“

“i’m in love with you” he spills

“HAPPY NEW YEAR” i hear from the other room as i stare at him in silence

“this is probably the worst timing but i really couldn’t keep it in anymore. i can’t go into another year feeling regret for every day that i don’t confess to you how i fee-“

i break his monologue with a kiss

“i love too matt” i look up at him with a smile

“are you being serious?” his confused look making me chuckle

“yess matt. of course i do! like you said, i understand you on a deeper level. and i know you understand me just as well. i enjoy every second i spend with you and i love being around you, you always make me feel special. i also kept my feelings tucked in but i love you just as much” i confess

he smiles and places a kiss on my lips while placing both hands on each of my cheeks

“can i be your boyfriend, y/n?” he whispers into my lips as he holds my cheeks with both hands

“i’d love nothing more” i smile up at him

———————————————————————

a/n- hope you guys enjoyed this cute little story

338 notes · View notes

ja3yun · 6 months

Text

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.3

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: suggestive (smut-ish flashback), angst, lost love, pet names, not many warnings tbf, and not proofread. anything I missed please lmk!

wc: 10.3k+ (honestly, i need to make these shorter)

synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. however, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

a/n: hi! I'm giving you this chapter kinda quickly. heavy appearances from my wjsn ults because they are now integral to the story <3 will update the next part during the week

4 years have passed since you left. No contact with your family, sometimes opting to send them a Christmas card with no return address just to let them know you’re alive. You missed them like crazy, more than any words could explain. It had been so long sometimes you wonder if you should go back, even for your mum’s birthday but it would be too awkward. The dramatic teen you left behind is who they knew you as, not the woman you’ve grown up to be.

College changed you dramatically, for the better you like to hope. Your roommate Eunseo quickly became your other half, showing you the ropes of Avanti, Being a year older than you she was accustomed to the college, she picked you up when you needed it the most and she didn’t even have to. You thought she took pity on you at first, just taking you under her wing because you were a crying dismantled mess. But she was simply just the loveliest person in the whole world. You wouldn’t have made it to today without her. She left college last year and got a job close by so you saw her often and you were thankful for her every day.

Throughout your college experience you did the typical; study, party, make questionable life choices at said parties. But one thing you couldn’t do was get into a relationship.

You started hooking up with guys in your second year, just flings and one-night stands. Eunseo supported your habits, “I will always support women's rights and also their wrongs” she used to say every time you pre-gamed and she never asked why you didn’t get into a relationship.

Jaeyun’s name hadn’t left your lips in 1460 days. A choice that you made as soon as you stepped off the bus in Pyeongchang. Jaeyun’s name also hadn't left your mind in 1460 days. Every touch from another felt wrong, every chat up line, every unwarranted dick pic. It wasn’t him so it didn’t matter to you.

You started to enjoy yourself more as time went on, creating a new friend group and new memories. By the final year of college, you were content with your life, finding a degree in film was a fluke but you ended up loving every bit of it, an internship was on the horizon at HYBE Media to shadow a music video producer, your hair routine finally working out. Everything was coming up Y/N. This was the right choice.

Yet you still thought about Jaeyun every day. What was he up to? Did he like living in Busan? Was he with someone else? Granted you don’t like to think about that last one too often or else you get a tightness in your chest. You wanted him to be happy but selfishly you didn’t want to know if that happiness was because of someone else.

“Helloooo, Y/N, are you even listening?” Eunseo’s hand waves across your face as you come back from your zoned-out state, “Tell me what I just said.” She huffs and crosses her legs and arms, sitting back knowingly. Eunseo had invited you to a coffee date in a quaint little shop outside of your university. She originally introduced it to you on your second day here and it became your favourite spot. Laughing, crying, and hungover, you both occupied this little shop as if it were your second home.

You smile guilty and laugh, “You were talking about how much you love me and that we should get married,” you shrug and tilt your head jokingly.

“Weirdly you are close!” Her pointer finger is now in front of your face as she leans forward quickly in a flash.

“I was?” You gave an incredulous look with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes! It has to do with marriage.” Her hands gesture an arch that can only remind you of the one SpongeBob imagination meme and you giggle.

“Please don’t tell me you’re marrying Serim after like 2 dates.” You half joke and half panic, it wouldn’t be unlike her to do something like that and you both know it. Eunseo takes in your expression and slaps the table loudly and laughs. If there was one thing your best friend wasn’t good at it’s being quiet, and you love her so much for it.

“I like him a lot, but no. Actually, it's about my sister. You know she’s getting married?” You nod, sipping your coffee, “Well of course I’m the maid of honor,” she lifts the back of her hands and twinkles them under her chin and you chuckle, “Someone dropped out and there is a spare seat. Yeoreum is a freak and needs it filled for everything ‘to go as planned’”

You had never met any of Eunseo’s family, they lived a few hours away and despite the effort Eunseo made to invite you to every family gathering, even Christmas, you declined not wishing to be a burden. “I want you to come. I checked your schedule and you’re free, I have a dress, I’m driving us up,” she keeps rhyming off every reason you have ever given her to bail on traveling with her, “and you owe me one.”

Furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head you encourage her to continue, owe her for what? “Well you don’t owe me yet but I heard the best man is single, older than you, and has these gorgeous big eyes. I’ll set you both up.”

“So I owe you for something that hasn’t even happened yet? And you don’t even know if he is interested? Or single?”

“Details, details.” Eunseo’s hand waves dismissively, “Please just come. I want you to meet my family since you don’t have any of your own. Think of my family as yours.”

Eunseo doesn’t know what happened back home. You never told her you didn’t have a family but that you were just estranged from them, never disclosing details, particularly that the reason you don’t go home is your own fault, she didn’t have to know. Eunseo didn’t know anything, not about Jaeyun, nothing at all and yet she didn’t pry into your past. You were so thankful for her.

“Eunseo,” rejection is on the tip of your lips but she’s pouting, her eyes big as she does her best to look cute, and to your dismay it works, “I’d love to come.” The sun suddenly started to shine and burn your skin as its light lay on you through the window.

“Amazing!” clapping her hands rapidly she giggles, “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Your eyes expand and she stands up not letting you protest at how soon the wedding is. “I thought she wasn’t getting married until Saturday?” You query and check your phone which reads Monday.

Walking out she explains, “Yeah but I need to be there early for final fittings, yadda yadda, boring wedding stuff. So I’m taking you with me. Either that or you drive up yourself.” The glint in her eyes as she turns to you makes your face deadpan.

“Fuck you, you know I can’t drive.” She laughs and grabs your hand.

“And I still don’t understand how you’re 23 and can’t even ride a go-kart without crashing.” Playfully you hit her arm and laughed, a memory of you and her go-karting painted your brain. After that, you never got behind another wheel.

___________

You arrive at Eunseo’s parents' house and your jaw slacks open. It’s bigger than any house you’ve ever seen. Your best friend joked a lot about being rich but you didn’t know she was rich rich. There are stairs leading to a giant white door that compliments the ash-coloured stones that surround it. Moss is growing up on each side of the home with intentionally placed pink flowers decorating throughout. Those rich bitch houses are so ugly, I want as small a house as possible so I’m always close to you no matter what room I’m in. His voice plays in your head but you shake him out.

Her parents are graciously letting you and her stay in the spare bedrooms, you don’t dare ask how many rooms are actually in this castle. Something about the air feels strangely familiar. You shrug it off and head inside with your blue suitcase and steamed dress. You curse rich people for having so many stairs.

“My baby!” Eunseo’s dad shouts from the door, “How is my sweet angel?” He greets her at the top of the stairs and hugs her tightly. You miss your dad a lot. His comforting words, his piggyback rides, his weird cinnamon body wash that made you despise the spice, you missed it all. “This must be Y/N! It only took 4 years to meet you.” His chest lets out a deep laugh as he hugs you just as tightly as his own daughter. A smile plasters on your face as you hug him with one arm, the other outstretched to protect the dress.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honour to be part of your daughter’s big day.” Eunseo’s dad’s eyes turn to crescent moons as he smiles and steps aside to usher you into the big house.

“The party is in a few hours. The happy couple aren’t here, running last-minute chores but you’ll meet them tonight.” He turns to you and points up the stairs, “Eunseo will show you where to get changed. If you need anything, me and the wife will be hovering around.” You side-eye Eunseo quickly and she smiles widely. She didn’t tell you about a party.

Bowing slightly you thank him and follow Eunseo who is squealing, shouting about how excited she is for you to meet everyone. Sometimes you wonder if she is the relationship you’ve been seeking after Jaeyun, platonic or not, you love her all the same.

A few hours later you hear bustling from the crowd gathered down the stairs, the party in full swing as Eunseo finishes curling a wispy strand of your hair. Glancing up at her you notice how beautiful she truly is; her bangs falling effortlessly to frame her face, her lips plump and naturally pouty, she was flawless.

“If you keep staring I’ll literally take you on the bed.” She smiles and you laugh. Pouting her lips near your face she pretends to kiss you and you play into it. Life is so easy with her. “Go get changed, I need to see my masterpiece completed.” Walking away she picks up the dress and thrusts it into your chest, “You’re gonna look amazing. That babe of a best man is gonna fall at your feet. Now go.” she shoos you into the ensuite bathroom.

Staring in the mirror you analyse her work on your face and hair. Never in your life have you ever looked so beautiful and you can’t help but stare. You shed your old life behind you yet this is the first time you really felt like you were reborn. The immature you left behind, the 23-year-old staring in the mirror coming up from the ashes.

Unzipping the garment bag you see the dress Eunseo picked for you and you gasp. Its a silky deep red dress. Far too sexy for something like this.

“Um, Eunseo? This dress is…” You hold it against you and observe what it would look like on you. Hot. That’s exactly how it would look and considering this was the first time meeting a whole family of someone dear to you, you’d rather be more covered up than this.

“Shut up it’s hot. My cousins will be wearing something way sluttier so it’s all good.” Her nonchalant tone doesn’t ease you but it’s either this or the dress she got you for the actual wedding.

As you adorn the dress you notice how it fits you perfectly and hugs you in at the waist flatteringly. It’s been months since you’ve put something on this beautiful. Your cleavage is out just enough, the material stops at your mid-thighs, and you feel like a beauty queen. As you take yourself in your hand goes up to your necklace. That necklace. The gold of the sun complimented the dress perfectly. You never did bring yourself to take it off.

Opening the door you see Eunseo changed into a pastel blue dress, covering her arms and neck but cut out to leave her chest exposed just enough, a slit runs up her thigh. Your jaw is on the floor as she walks over and eyes you up and down. “Look at you! A literal goddess.” she smiles as she takes your hands. “You ready to upstage my sister at her own engagement party?”

“Eunseo…you did not pick these outfits to stand out on purpose did you?” Suddenly your heart is beating quickly and the urge to change is more than ever.

“Of course not! We’re just hotter than anyone here, including her.” She laughs and hands you the pair of gold heels you eyed up as she unpacked her bags earlier. They were exactly your style. “Take these and put them on. Literally take them off whenever but for the grand entrance you need to be complete” She used her right hand to motion over your body.

Putting the shoes on you grew about 4 inches taller and were on Eunseo’s eye level now. “Ready to rock this bitch?” You nod and she grabs your arm, dragging you down the stairs.

There are eyes on you everywhere and you can’t lie, it is a little uncomfortable considering the age range of the men staring are in their late 50s. It's a party like you’ve only seen in movies; waiters walk around with Hors D’oeurves and flutes of expensive champagne. You start to wonder how much all this cost and if you could convince someone at this party to pay off your student loan.

“Hey Eunseo?” You grab her attention as she hands you a glass of bubbly happily, “I just realised I don’t know Yeoreum’s fiance’s name.”

“Oh,” She laughs loudly and slaps your arm, “It’s Jaeyun.” Your heart stops for a moment, there are lots of Jaeyun’s in Korea. Jaeyun from TO1 could walk through that door for all you knew. “Jake is what he goes by though.” Your heart drops rapidly. There might be a lot of Jaeyuns but none that also go by Jake. Part of you wishes it was the biggest coincidence in the world but as voices fill the archway into the living room where you and your best friend reside you see Yeoreum, more beautiful than any picture Eunseo showed you could capture, and Jaeyun. Your Jaeyun.

Static is all you hear as you watch him greet guests and thank them for coming, and each footstep closer to you has your mouth going moist, ready to vomit. He hasn’t noticed you and if you had control of your body you would be bolting out the door instantly, but your mind has glued your feet to the floor. You take him, his face more defined than his previous squishy state, he’s wearing a fitted black suit blazer with no shirt underneath and matching wide-leg black trousers, and his hair is slicked back with stray pieces falling around his face. He looks expensive. He looks like the home you once knew.

You see Eunseo talking to you but as your eyes meet his, that static you once heard turns into rapid heartbeats. Your body is flushing with heat as you notice how his eyes widen for a second, his body turns to you instinctively.

“Eunseo!” Yeoreum squeals and shuffles quickly to give her sister an all-consuming hug, just like you want to do to Jaeyun right now. “Jakey come here” she beacons her fiance towards the both of you and without blinking or taking his eyes off you he walks cautiously forward. “You must be Y/N? Eunseo talks about you all the time.”

She’s lovely. Gorgeous, clearly kind, she’s perfect just like her sister and it makes you want to cry. She’s perfect for him.

Plastering a smile on your face you fake glee as you hug her lightly, stealing another glance at Jaeyun while she can’t see you. He might have gotten older but those eyes still looked the same. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you pull away and step back, sole focus on his bride, “Congratulations.” It's bitter and you say it quickly.

“Aw thank you!” She beams and you feel like being sick again.

“Excuse me, I’m going to go to the restroom, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself and rush past the couple and Eunseo leaving a gust of air behind you. Clutching your chest you run upstairs for an escape. Out of all the best friend’s sister’s fiances, how was he the one you were faced with? Pushing the guest room door open you scuttle in and take a few deep breaths reliving the moments just before.

“Y/N?” The Australian accent hits you hard as you turn around and meet his eyes. It takes only seconds before his hands have cupped your face and his body dangerously presses against yours, so close you can feel his heart, a heart that used to beat only for you.

“Baby,” he pauses as his eyes search your face trying to convince himself that you aren’t a dream, “where did you go?” Jaeyun desperately whines, his voice cracking in sadness as his forehead touches yours. There is love laced within the melancholic question. Instinctively your hands grab his wrists as you close your eyes. “Princess, please talk to me. '' He's pleading, begging for any explanation. Jaeyun’s hands go from your cheeks and trace down your shoulders, his eyes scanning every inch of your face in desperation. He doesn’t believe you’re real and in front of him, your face is more mature yet still the same girl he loves even after all these years. 4 years he’s waited for you to come back to him.

Your silence and shallow breathing urge him to ask more questions, his thumbs stroking the area between the base of your neck and collarbone. “What happened?”

“You’re engaged.” The first words out of your mouth take him aback. His mouth stays open, his hands leaving your body leaving you cold, and shivering. “She seems nice-”

“Don’t do that,” His bottom jaw slowly clenching as he speaks, “Please don’t act fine like this. Don’t make it seem like I’m the only one that’s hurting for us right now.” You sob without tears as you see him vulnerable and eyes beseeching. Jaeyun’s hands point to you before coming together in a praying motion, “I looked for you everywhere. I spent months trying to find you.” Deep down you knew he would have looked for you, but not for months, maybe for a couple of weeks before he left for Busan, but never months, “What did I do?”

Without a beat, you respond, “Nothing. You could never do anything.”

“You don’t just abandon people you love, Y/N. Not us. There had to be something I did to make you fall out of lov-”

“Jake!” You hear a familiar voice shout and your head falls down to stare at your shoes.

“Baby please,” Jaeyun wants to hold you, kiss you, understand what happened but he can’t. Not right now.

“You should go, I’ll leave in the morning-”

“Don’t leave me again, baby, please.” His voice is quiet, despair etched within his tone. His eyes fall on your necklace, the necklace that he gifted you. His eyes trail down to properly take you in and if he wasn’t astounded before by your mere presence he was now, “You look so beautiful, just like always.”

“Jake your dad is gonna make a speech-” Heeseung's voice bellows throughout the room and yet you and Jaeyun don’t take your eyes off each other. As Heeseung walks in he freezes at the sight of you. Over the years Heeseung silently forgave you, seeing his best friend move on with Yeoreum brought him some solace when he thought about what you did to Jaeyun, but now the anger that was dissipated through time is bubbling up again, “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing here?” His tone is surprised more than angry, but you can tell he’s fuming.

You don’t dare look at him.

“You should get back to your engagement party." Nothing but a whisper as it comes out. You’ve lost him as quickly as you got him back. You did this, and now you need to deal with the consequences. Brushing past him and Heeseung you make your way back to Eunseo ignoring his hand that grazed your wrist in an attempt to stop you.

His family was here, his friends, people from your past that you wanted to forget. The pressure was starting to become too much as you rushed down the stairs before colliding with someone, “I’m sorry.” You bow quickly.

“Y/N?” Mr. Sim’s voice quips in astonishment, “What are you doing here?” His head comes down so his eyes are level with yours, “What-” He has no words, looking at the girl he thought was going to marry his son.

“Mr. Sim, It’s nice to see you again” You bow but still avoid eye contact. “I’m sure you’re proud of Jaeyun.”

“Darling, we thought something awful happened to you.” The sincerity in his voice made you look up at him, heartache carved in your features “Your mum and dad haven’t stopped worrying about you.” A hand is placed on your shoulder and as you look down you see Eunseo.

“Girl there you are! You took one long bathroom break.” She laughs and bows to Mr. Sim, “Ready for your speech, Sir?” Mr. Sim looks at you inquisitively before returning Eunseo’s bow.

“I’ve been preparing this speech for years, only some minor tweaks.” His eyes find yours and you start to think maybe he’s hinting towards the speech he would have given at Jaeyun and your engagement party. “Better head.” Lips forming a tight smile he descends the stairs.

His words circle your brain. You understood your parents would worry but all of these years you never had to face it, not until your past was being pushed onto you. Eunseo takes your hand and pulls you to the dining area where people are gathered to make speeches and say their congratulations.

Jaeyun strolls in behind Heeseung, his hands in his pockets before he notices his soon-to-be wife and wraps one arm around her. Tears threaten to spill as you watch the loving action. That should have been you. You should be marrying him, taking his second name, being his everything.

A fork clinks with a wine glass as Mr. Sim starts his speech. “Thank you everyone for coming. I will make this short considering I’m sure you’re all sick of us talking, especially when there is a free bar.” the people occupying the room laugh loudly and you see Yeoreum smile up at Jaeyun. It killed you but like always you put a smile on your face, “My son, he’s always been someone to wear his heart on his sleeve, always giving one hundred percent of himself to the person he loves,” Mr. Sims eyes fall on you and you feel like the speech is somehow directed to you, “Jaeyun deserves to have someone who loves him unconditionally, without prejudice, without pride, and always with his best interest in mind. I believe he’s found that.”

Crushed. Your heart can’t take the rest of the speech as you walk out of the room and bolt for the entrance of the house. Heaving your chest to gasp for air you feel yourself clutching at your chest, if you hadn’t had a panic attack before in your life you would have thought you were having a heart attack. You breathe out harshly, gasping for air as you lean on the banister. Someone comes up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder gently.

You hear muffled words but don’t take anything in as the figure guides you to sit on the steps, their hands rubbing your arms to keep you warm.

“Breathe for me, Y/N. He He Hoo or whatever.” You follow the words and inhale two breaths sharply and exhale extendedly. “That’s it.”

Your vision starts to come into focus as you see Heeseung in front of you, his Bambi eyes soft as his thumbs rub circles into your upper arms, “Keep doing that for me, okay?” He’s always been so kind to you, that you want to cry and he notices, “Hey, look at me, Y/N. Tell me about that band you used to like way back when.” Heeseung is trying to distract you but your brain is fuzzy and tears are rolling down your face, “The one with that rapper Jaeyun was always jealous of because you had him as your lock screen?"

“Monsta X?” you breathe out and he smiles lightly.

“Yeah, tell me about them. Are they still together?” His hands leave your arms as he discards his jacket from his body and wraps it around you.

Nodding you start to answer his question, “Yeah, they’re still together.” You sniffle and feel your heart start to slow down and breathe at ease, “Most of them are in the military now.” Your lips naturally form into a pout as you think about your favourite band being separated, not being whole until 2027.

“Sucks doesn’t it? I felt the same about ONF.” He laughs and so do you, letting out a singular sob as you do so.

“I didn’t mean to come here, Hee. Her sister is my best friend.” His eyes go wide and then looks down, his hands finding their way to your knees.

“Y/N, you can’t be here. He finally moved on.” There is a pleading intertwined with sorrow in his voice and you slowly nod. “He’s happy.”

“Heeseung?” Jaeyun’s voice pierces through you, the warmth from Heeseung’s jacket becoming null as goosebumps prickle your skin. “Can I talk with her?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.” They’re talking like you aren’t even there and a part of this too yet your voice is too weak to speak up and share your thoughts. Tension is looming in the air as Heeseung gives the man you love a stern stare, but Jaeyun has always been stubborn when it comes to you. If he can’t talk to you now he will find a way. However, for now, at least, Jaeyun listens to his best man, and with one more glace to your fragile body he heads back to his party. It hurts him to see you like this, he wants nothing more than to swoop you up and take you in his arms like he used to all those years ago.

The party continues as you head back in making your way to the guest bedroom, giving excuses to those asking simply saying you’re tired from travelling. You miss him being yours. That was the real exhaustion.

________

The party ended a couple of hours ago, the once loud and busy foyer now dark as you tip-toe down the stairs, heedful to not wake anyone up. It’s 5 am when you awake dying of thirst and decide to leave the comfy double bed of the guest bedroom and get a glass of water. Looking around you see empty wine glasses, a few smashed ones lined up on the long table just beside the stair banister. It truly was a magnificent party and in any other circumstance, you would have had a great time. Yeoreum’s family is lovely and welcoming it’s no wonder they have so many friends, and no wonder Jaeyun fell in love with her and fit so perfectly as her soon-to-be husband.

A leak of light bleeds from the kitchen and you presume an under-unit lamp is still on but as your feet scuffle into the kitchen you see a broad back staring at you. Taking in the figure you notice their blue and yellow checked pajama bottoms and casual black t shirt evidently not intended to be worn together but clearly the first thing they could find.

A creak sounds from under you alerting them of your presence causing them to whip around. Jaeyun. One of his eyes was shut indicating he was not long up himself, his dark hair fluffy and tussled but still slightly in place due to the remnants of styling wax. He takes your breath away every time.

“Hi.” You whisper and make your way to the fridge. Heeseung was right, it wasn’t a good idea to speak to each other. When you saw Jaeyun again after all these years you thought he would be mad, scream at you to get out, seething in hate, but that was never who Jaeyun was. Instead, you felt his love shooting through you and that was the dangerous part.

“It’s late.” His eyes never leave you as he watches you pour a glass of filtered water.

“Or early.” You shrug and lean against the unit not daring to look at him. “I guess it depends on whether you went to sleep or not.” you mumble, small talk never being your thing.

Jaeyun still feels like he’s in a dream. Your presence is haunting yet he hasn’t felt more at home. Just the simplicity of you being in this kitchen is enough for him to experience contentment he hasn’t felt in years. Not since then.

“When did you get engaged?” The question punches him slap-bang in the middle of his chest, the wind escaping his body.

With his head hanging low and his middle finger tracing his coffee mug he muttered, “ A few months ago.” to which you nodded and pursed your lips. “What about you?” he questions back, “you seeing anyone?”

“No.” It’s sharp and direct but you don’t want to touch on the subject any further, you didn’t want to accidentally divulge that you couldn’t get over him, not when he was sitting afore you an engaged man. It’s embarrassing.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath and holds it as if he was going to say something but in his hesitance, you speak up again. “Eunseo, she’s my best friend.” giving the information as a way to explain why you’re here. “I didn’t know it was you getting married to Yeoreum, I promise.” Your eyes are begging for him to look at you so he can see the sincerity in your words but he never does, opting to just nod slowly. “I’ll make up an excuse to get out of here before the wedding.”

“Why did you leave, Y/N?” Jaeyun’s voice is soft but laced with hurt, “Tell me why because for 4 fucking years I still haven’t been able to figure it out.”

No words come out of your mouth, instead, you bite your lip trying to pluck up courage, suddenly the idea of him looking at you made you uncomfortable but of course, now his eyes are on you. “You owe me that much.”

“I-,” You place the glass of water down and grip the counter behind you tightly, “I…I didn’t get into any colleges that I applied for, none near Busan. Only one accepted me but it was a few hours away.” His eyebrows are crossed in confusion as he asks, “What do you mean? I thought you only applied for ones near Apollo. We had planned-”

“My grades weren’t good enough to get into any colleges in Busan.” There is a slight venom in your tone but it’s not directed at him but rather yourself. “If I had told you I wasn’t going with you, I was scared you would give up your dream school and just fuck it all off to be with me.” You finally look at him and the confusion is dispelling from his face as you continue, “You said it yourself, you would have gone anywhere if it meant being with me. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I would live with the guilt every day, watching you attend a subpar college all because of me. I loved you Jaeyun I couldn’t do that to you.”

Jaeyun doesn’t miss the past tense usage of ‘love’ but he rewinds, “So you left our relationship because…it would be long distance?”

“Jaeyun it wasn’t just that, I did think about long distance but I knew you would grow at college without me, i kept thinking about what you said. The whole slowly breaking away from each other because we become different people stuff got in my head and I couldn’t bear to slowly lose you, so I-”

“So you thought leaving me without a word was the right way to go? Y/N we could have worked it out, we would have figured out a solution.” Jaeyun stands up and walks over to you, “I didn’t mean to pressure you into moving, or applying for the same college, or fuck even making you doubt our chances at long distance.” His hand naturally caresses your cheek as you let a tear slip.

Shaking your head you look up at him, “I was stupid and I didn’t want you to worry about me, you already had so much going on between work and school. But look, you went to college and you grew up, look at what you have.” Your hands gesture upstairs to where Yeoreum sleeps peacefully unaware of what is transpiring in her parent’s kitchen.

“We could have had this Y/N. You could be the one I’m marrying if you just let me look after you like a boyfriend is supposed to if you trusted me enough.”

“I did trust you.”

��Not enough to tell me what was going on when I gave you that ring. Y/N-” He huffs out loudly and drags a hand through his hair. “That should have been your opening to talk to me about all this. I love you so much I would have made long-distance work.” His deep eyes are searching into yours. All these questions he has and you can’t answer or retaliate to any of them. “When I gave you that ring and made that promise to be yours forever I wasn’t fucking around okay? I meant it.” He lets out a dry laugh and takes your hands in his. “Baby, I love you.”

You stand too stunned to speak. Here Jaeyun was after all these years still hopelessly yours. An engaged Jaeyun was still in love with you. You want to let out a laugh of disbelief but you’re frozen. The room is silent except for the annoyingly loud hum of the refrigerator.

Jaeyun notices how your eyes fall to his lips as he licks them wet, taking the opportunity to lean forward just enough that his breath hits yours. If your lips touch you no doubt know you won’t ever let him go.

“Jaeyun…”

Footsteps are heard behind you both and you push Jaeyun away forcefully but despite the other presence making themselves known, his eyes never leave your tear-glassed ones. “Baby,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear but you shake your head and barge past him, head down so the other person doesn’t see you. “Y/N?” Jaeyun calls out, reckless abandonment is telling him to chase after you but as he feels an arm stopping him to a halt he looks up and sees Heeseung.

“Jake, don’t.”

________

Stirring in your sleep you groan as you hear a plethora of laughing coming from downstairs causing you to take the pillow from under you and suffocate your ears with it. After last night’s tragic events you just wanted to go home. Nothing would make you happier than to catch the first bus back to your flat and rewatch every episode of Fleabag to take your mind off of everything. Jaeyun was still in love with you and selfishly you hoped he hated you after what you did, that way your heart wouldn’t leap at every word he said.

Baby, I love you

You shake the thought away and give in, sitting up and looking around the room. Eunseo is gone, probably downstairs being the reason for everyone’s laughter you think to yourself. With a huff, you pull the covers off your body and immediately feel the cold breeze causing you to shiver. You don’t know if it's a coincidence or not but as goosebumps rise on your legs and arms, Jaeyun’s laugh is heard over everyone else. You missed his laugh so much, your heart had a shot of pain pierce come on so suddenly. There was a glimmer of sun outside that made your necklace sparkle as you proceeded for the door.

It was as if your ears could only hear Jaeyun as you walked quietly down the stairs. “If it’s Yeoreum making him laugh I might kill myself.” you mutter, pulling your hair up in a pony. It’s dramatic but right now you can’t face to see them in love, it hurts. You’re hurting.

“Y/N! You’re awake!” Euneo stands up and scurries to the kitchen, grabbing a plate for you, “Mum just made breakfast.”

“Hey! I helped.” Yeoreum faked offence which Eunseo simply rolled her eyes in response. She handed you the plate before you could tell her you weren’t hungry. “Sit down, Y/N, please.” Eunseo’s mum points to the empty chair at the comically large table, you suppose she does have a large family.

Luckily for you, the seat was situated far enough away from Jaeyun that you could avoid him, unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid his eyes burning holes into the side of your face. You ignore him and scan the feast of food before you and you wonder if this is what it was like for Annie in Parent Trap when Chessy made a buffet of all her favourites. “Eat up, Y/N, there is plenty here.” Yeoreum and Eunseo’s mum says.

“Thanks, Mrs. Son.” You pick up a few hash browns and start to eat one. That’s when you become aware of the enemy of all condiments, black pepper. It was a great tool in the kitchen, adding a little flavour and spice. Not for you though, the black powdered devil always makes your tongue itch. Who the fuck puts black pepper on hash browns? You think to yourself, face scrunching and teeth running along your tongue as you pour yourself a glass of water and take a huge swig. It does nothing at all so you go to excuse yourself to get a glass of juice or anything with taste but before you can there is a glass of apple juice placed beside you. Glancing up you see Jaeyun placing the cup with a knowing look on his face.

Of course, he knew. He knew everything about you and with the face you were pulling it was one he had seen too many times at restaurants.

“Why the fuck would they season their food with this, like, isn’t that what these are for?” You grabbed a pepper shaker and started waving it in his face. You had both gotten back from a day-turned-overnight trip to the beach and stopped off at a service station in the middle of nowhere, the diner was quaint with an American feel to it, undoubtedly your favourite kind.

“Princess I think your weird tongue is the only one that would complain.” Jaeyun laughed and swapped your eggs for his bacon. “There, now there is no pepper in sight.” He also passed over his apple juice with a bright smile.

“Take this.” His deep voice pulled you back to reality. Thanking him you take the cup and chug it quietly, but everyone's eyes are on you.

“You don’t like the food, Y/N?” Mrs. Son says not offended but certainly not pleased. Waving your hand quickly you swallow the liquid and explain, “No, it's lovely Mrs Son, me and pepper just don’t go well together.”

Yeoreum looks at Jaeyun with furrowed brows but doesn’t question it. There is a massive part of him that knows he should have left you to deal with it yourself so as to not raise suspicion but his instincts kicked in. He takes Yeoreum’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly. It stings your heart.

“So,” Mr Son claps his hands diverting the attention to him, “I thought since the whole wedding party is here we should get to know each other. We will be family once Saturday passes after all.” A groan comes softly from your right and you turn to see Heeseung with his eyes shut.

“If he makes us play charades I’m passing my best man duties to literally anyone else.” He whispers to you which causes you to snort laugh and bite your mouth shut. You miss Heeseung’s smile as he watches you. He always did love you like a sister despite everything. He knew this situation wasn’t just hurting Jaeyun and after last night he was sure you were just as heartbroken as he was.

“We’re going to have a friendly game of football!”

“Dad, I can’t get bruised before my big day!” Yeoreum exclaims, her arms wrapped around her body to protect her from an imaginary ball flying at her. Jaeyun laughs and rubs her arms, “Reumie I don’t think your dad means you guys.”

Heeseung’s hand lands on your shoulder as you watch the loving act. They did look good together you couldn’t lie about that. Their energy matched, they would make the most beautiful children to ever walk this earth, and even their sense of style was similar - casual but fashionable.

“I was going to say 5 v 5, there are enough men here right?” Mr Son starts counting around the table as Heeseung slowly slides down the chair, his eyes hidden behind this hand as he pretends to rub his forehead.

“I thought you liked football, Hee?” You whisper but he shakes his head violently.

“Used to. I have since grown a great distaste for it, especially with Yeoreum’s cousins. They’re brutal and leave me bruised.” he mutters the last few words and you laugh leaning close.

“Aw is Hee scared of a little bruise.” He doesn’t appreciate your taunting yet he smiles and rolls his eyes. “You’re almost as good as Jaeyun, you can handle yourself I mean look.” You sneakily point to one of the cousins who is on his 3rd plate of food, “He’s going to be so full he can’t move, stick by him and you’ll look like Messi or something.”

Heeseung laughs out loud, “Oh! Heeseung I almost didn’t count you.” Mr Son claps, “That makes 10!”

Heeseung’s tongue pokes the side of his face as his rage-filled eyes look right into yours. You mouth a half-hearted ‘sorry’ and hold in a giggle. “I’ll kick the ball in your face.” He warns but you’re too busy chuckling to notice.

Eunseo’s eyes meet yours with her eyebrows raised. Giving her a confused look you knit your eyebrows together to ask her what that look on her face is for but she simply smirks and looks at Heeseung. Fuck. You forgot that was her favour to you, to set you up with the dishy best man. Oh if only she knew. You and Heeseung were so out of this world impossible that you had to fight to hold in your laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Heeseung whispers and his lips graze the shell of your ear. You quickly turn around and his face is incredibly close to yours. Eunseo must be loving this.

“Eunseo promised to set me up with the hot best man. That was my bribe to get me here.” A shallow laugh leaves his throat and he sits up, hands pointed to his chest.

“I am hot to be fair.” He jokingly smirks causing you to hit his chest playfully. “What? Do you not think so?”

“I know so. It’s just how cocky you are about it all,” Heeseung’s lips part to say something but you stop him, “If you’re going to make a joke about your dick I don’t want to hear it, Hee.” he shuts his mouth instantly. You missed this just as much as you missed Jaeyun. The banter between you and your friends is what kept you from losing your mind most of your high school days, and right now it’s taking your mind off this ridiculous situation.

“Eunseo tried it on with me once,” Heeseung says while eyeing her up and giving her a wave.

“But she acted like she didn’t know you? When she brought you up it was as if she had never met you.” He scoffs as you recall the conversation in the cafe.

“I rejected her, she’s not my type. Plus, she wanted double dates all the time, and don’t get me wrong I love Jake and Yeoreum but they’re insufferable. Kinda like you and hi-” He halts himself mid-sentence and looks at you apologetically. “Sorry.” You wave it off and pretend it doesn’t hurt you to hear before he continues, “I probably shouldn’t say this but if it’s any consolation, he isn’t half as infatuated with her as he was you.” It does bring some solace but you try not to let it sit in your mind too long.

“I’m not having a great time with it but at least he’s happy.” You mumble playing with your fingers and picking at the skin. Heeseung’s big hands encase your smaller ones as he squeezes them discreetly.

“You’ll always be his first love, just remember that. And who knows,” He leans back in his chair with that smug look on his face once again, “Your next love might be the hot best man.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose you can’t help but laugh again. “Heeseung please shut up.”

While you and Heeseung were talking, none of you noticed Jaeyun staring purposefully as if his eyes could pry you two apart. He wasn’t jealous, no, he was just wishing he was with you both like old times, laughing with you as if no time had passed. Yeoreum strokes his arm lightly and looks up at him. “Jakey, you okay?” to which Jaeyun hums and turns to her, kissing her forehead lightly. “Never better, Reumie.” Lies but as his lips touch her head he remembers last night and how his lips felt like they had found their way home.

“Okay! Let’s go and get ready for a full day ahead. The game starts in an hour.” Mr Son’s voice bellowed throughout the dining area.

“Come on,” Heeseung takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen, “You’re eating something before you’re tormented by the whole aunt brigade.” Heeseung’s always been so sweet. Whoever ties him down is going to be the luckiest girl in the world.

The game had been on for 20 minutes and you can’t escape the daggers coming from Mrs. Sim across the table. Of course she’s mad, you hurt her precious baby boy, you completely understand but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. She liked you a lot before everything went down, always treating you like her own but now it’s like her heart turned cold towards you, a contrast to her husband who seems to actually tolerate you enough to be civil. Meeting the Sim family again was beyond awkward but you were thankful none of them let on to the others about you and Jaeyun’s history.

“My Jakey is so good at football. He said he used to play in high school.” Yeoreum gushes, her hands clasped beside her cheeks as she watches her fiance on the garden lawn.

“Yeah, he was the captain in high school. Almost got a scholarship but he didn't want to do that professionally.” You say and sip at your white wine and lemonade top.

“How do you know he was captain?” The question comes from Eunseo and you nearly choke on the sweet wine. Shit

“Yes Y/N, how do you know?” Mrs. Sim quips and you want to die. You look over at the men on the field and panic trying to find any rhyme or reason you would know that information. Maybe I should put on a strip and join them, a ball to the face would be less painful.

“Oh, um, me and Jae- Jake spoke about it at the party. Getting to know him and all that.” your words are rushed and your hand reaches for the bottle to pour more wine. Admittedly, this is probably the last thing you should be doing, getting drunk and not running your mouth was never something that came easily. The party of girls nod and accept your answer. You need to be more careful. You don’t dare look at Mrs Sim with the fear of being obliterated on the spot.

“You got this, baby!” Yeoreum shouts loudly and gains the attention of Jaeyun, his smile bright as he waves, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile back and give him two thumbs up. He starts to wipe his face with the bottom of his t-shirt to gather the sweat. It gives you a peak of his lower abdomen and you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

The mind is a powerful tool and also your greatest enemy at the moment as you recollect every time you kissed down his stomach, sometimes leaving hickeys to mark him as yours. You remember how his jaw would slack open the lower you got, the moans that would fall from his lips as your tongue trailed from his belly button to the top of his boxer waistband. When his dick was pressed against that very stomach you would trace your fingers touching everything but his cock. You swallow hard, thighs clenching together, you can’t think these thoughts but fuck it was so easy.

Jaeyun notices your face change and smirks, biting his lip and ogling at your thighs rubbing against each other just like you used to when you were turned on by him. His eyes dart to his fiances but she seems unbothered by his act. Heeseung comes up behind him and wraps an arm over his shoulder. “Dude this is rough-” he pauses and follows Jaeyun’s eyes, “What you looking at? Yeoreum? Y/N?” he whispers only your name and it makes Jaeyun sigh.

“Let’s just get back to the game yeah? Sooner we beat these old men the sooner I can have a beer.” Heeseung laughs and claps his best friend’s back.

While you're zoning out, your best friend speaks up. “Heeseung looks good, huh Y/N?” Eunseo giggles and nudges your shoulder with hers. “I thought I saw him flirting with you earlier.” You laugh and shake your head dismissively.

“Nah he was just engaging in conversation.” Everyone is looking at you waiting for you to elaborate, “Oh, it was just usual chit-chat. Weather, work, small talk stuff.”

Eunseo doesn’t buy your chatter, she’s convinced after seeing you both this morning that you two will be the next wedding she attends. “Y/N, he was all over you at the table!” Eunseo chimes and tries to recreate the scene for the other girls at the table, “He was all like touchy, and your faces were like here!” Her nose brushes yours to which you laugh it off and push her lightly, shaking your head.

“Well I think you should try to speak to him more, he seems interested.” Yeoreum says and you try not to laugh in her face.

Mrs Sim snorts and sets her wine glass down. “Yeoreum, honey, Y/N isn’t his type. He likes classy girls, loyal girls with a good sense of worth.” Ouch. It was probably deserved but shit did that prick your heart. Eunseo looks at you confused but you shrug and don’t pay attention to it.

“Heeseung isn’t my type either.” you mutter. Yeoreum leans her elbow on the table and places her face in her palm as she asks, “What is your type then, Y/N?”

Jaeyun.

“Eh, I like guys who are sweet, um, they laugh at stupid jokes,” You start to look at Jaeyun as you continue, “I like when guys are attentive and know things about you that you don’t even really know yourself because they listen to every little thing you say.”

The girls around the table are gawking at you, “Y/N? Have you ever been in love? You must have been!” One of the bridesmaids asks excitedly. You shrug your head to the side and laugh.

“Once upon a time but that was forever ago.” You slyly look at Mrs. Sim and it was astronomically the worst decision. Her face was overcome with disgust.

Ironically, it’s Yeoreum asking the question now, “Tell us about it. Wasn’t he the ‘one’”. How do you say to her that your love, the one you want to spend forever with, is hers?

“I think he was but I was an idiot, too young to understand that we should have fought through our challenges rather than me running away from them.” The honesty in your voice is raw and you’re holding down the tears. One of the bridesmaids asks, “How do you know someone is the one?”

“J-” You almost say his name but smoothly continue without anyone noticing, “You know because there is an easiness in loving someone you know you're going to spend your life with. It comes naturally like breathing. There’s no trying to impress, no hiding parts of you. You both love each other like it’s the only thing you know how to do right. Even if you're apart, when you eventually come back together you slide right back into where you left off. Your love is infinite."

Yeoreum starts to cry "That’s like me and Jake." The crowd of girls hurry to her side and hug her as she sobs, encouragements from her party saying how they are ‘meant to be’ flood your ears. While they are distracted you wipe a tear, that’s when you feel a hand hold yours. Mrs Sim has a mournful look on her face, her thumb swiping over the back of your hand now seated next to you. Its unexpected but this is a step up from the hateful glares and you’re more than thankful.

Her eyes hold a love for you just like those years ago, maybe it took you explaining your feelings for her to truly understand how sorry you were about the whole situation, opening her up to forgive you even a little bit.

Yeoreum composes herself, fanning her face with her hands as everyone proceeds back to their seats, everyone except Mrs Sim who stays by your side, forcing Eunseo to move to the opposite end. “Thanks, girls. Ugh I just love him so much.”

Don’t ask it. Don’t ask it. Your brain is screaming to ask her the question that you know would set you off, “How did you two meet?” The words fall from your lips before you can catch them with your teeth.

A smile spreads widely across her face as her whole body turns to you. This is the first time you have properly examined her features and you wish you didn’t. Easily she is one of the most beautiful girls to ever exist, her small face but big features making her look otherworldly, her body is naturally slender, her black hair is long and sleek straight, her bangs fit around her face perfectly, her eyes gleamed with life and love. She was truly perfection. “We met at Apollo! You know the college in Busan?” Her eyes twinkle and you become jealous because in the past 4 years, your eyes have become dull and empty, “He was walking to class in the East block and I just thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen.”

Mrs. Sim delicately squeezes your hand but doesn’t spare a glance. Despite her feelings for you, she knows this isn’t easy for you and she doesn’t envy you in this situation at all. “I just walked up to him and asked him out. He was so reluctant at first, saying he was still getting over his ex,” she smiles at the memory, “and let me tell you, after that night he probably didn’t think about her again.” Yeoreum smirked as the girls squealed.

“Yeoreum, as his mother I don’t need to hear this.” Mrs. Sim scoffs, her face slightly disgusted. The bride-to-be mouthed a quick sorry and continued, “We went totally casual for a while, but you know how things escalate, he was in love with me by like the third time I met him.”

You nodded at her as she continued to tell you about her romance with the love of your life and you feel your heart slide its way into the pit of your stomach. It's nauseating how he found a love and you couldn’t even face dating anyone. But you couldn’t be mad, of course not, because you did this.

“Y/N?” You look up to see Heeseung and Jaeyun, both of them with their eyes on you purposefully. Yeoreum grabs Jaeyun’s hands yet his eyes don’t leave your face. Heeseung’s voice continues, “Can I grab you for a minute? I got a-” he pauses to think of an excuse, “I need a second pair of hands to bring out more drinks, yeah?” His eyebrow raises at you to follow along to which you nod and stand up. Noticing Eunseo’s stares you shake your head and give her a small smile.

Heeseung’s fingers interlock with yours as he leads you away into the house and suddenly you feel like you can breathe again. “Y/N you okay? You looked like you were gonna throw up.” You look up at him, his 6”0 frame towering over you.

“I’m fine, just asking questions I know I shouldn’t.” You let out a half-hearted laugh and smile sheepishly at him, “It’s okay. How was the game?” Proceeding to the kitchen you open the fridge to pick up the jug of margarita Yeoreum and Eunseo had lovingly made with way too much spirit and minimal mixers.

“I still hate you for getting me caught, but we beat them so,” He shrugs and reaches from behind you to grab a six-pack of Peroni, “Wasn’t as eventful as your time at the interrogation table. I saw them all grilling you.” You snicker and disagree.

“Nah, they were just asking about my life, the usual.” It wasn’t the full truth but it wasn’t a lie either.

Heeseung moves from behind you and leans against the kitchen island, one foot propped up on the base of the counter, swinging the beers between his legs. “How was Mrs. Sim? That must have been hard, I could feel her ice-cold stare from the other end of the garden.” He opens up the packet of 6 and hands you one, “Open this for me?” You nod and take it from him, setting the jug down to pop open the lid with the edge of the unit before giving it back to him.

“I thought I was going to die I can’t lie, but then she was okay, I think?” You question the interaction in your head, “She was nicer to me as the afternoon went on, but I think it was pity.” Heeseung brings the bottle to his lips and sips the cold beer and his eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t think It would be pity, you know she loved you more than Jake, at least that’s what he always thought." He pauses and takes a sip from his bottle before dramatically pulling it from his lips and pointing towards you, "Fuck, didn’t she have your wedding dress practically paid for?”

This was news to you and Heeseung guessed as much by the look on your face, “You didn’t know? She always went about how she had a separate savings account for you and Jake’s wedding. I think she still has it.”

You look at him quizically, “Wait, why would she still have it? Surely she would have put it to this wedding.” You search for a glass to pour the margarita into and wait for Heeseung to respond.

“Nah, they didn’t pay a penny for this. They don’t want him to marry her.”

“WHAT?!” You exclaim and turn around bug-eyed and mouth open, “What do you mean? His dad was saying all that nice stuff at the toast, and his mum looked like she was bursting with pride when Yeoreum was talking about Jake.”

There was a silence in the air as Heeseung stepped forward and grabbed your shoulders, “They like her, but babe she isn’t you. Mr. and Mrs. Sim know Jake doesn-, you know what I shouldn’t be saying anything.” You plead with him to continue, gripping his hands that are placed on you, “Hee, please, Jake doesn’t what?”

Just as Heeseung is about to divulge very useful information, Eunseo walks in with her hands up, “Ignore me, love birds, just came to get the jug of fun,” she spots it behind you and points, “Can you grab me that please?”

Stepping back, Heeseung grabs the jug and hands it to Eunseo, “We were just coming out anyway, right angel.”

Oh, you were going to murder him. His face smug and Eunseo’s mouth breaking into a large smile, you grab your glass and head out with them, Heeseung’s hands on your hips and lips to your ear, “Let me give her what she wants.” You turn around, eyes scolding him.

“Don’t even think about it, and don’t think I’ll let our little conversation go either.” As you walk and warn Heeseung, you’re already outside, a pair of usually wide, bright eyes, now thin as they watch you and his best friend joke around.

Jaeyun is seething.

#jake x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jake sim ff #aj writes #this doesnt really have smut in it but whatever #i also did write like a good 1/3 of this drunk a while back so if I start to not make sense just ignore it lmao

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judeswhore · 2 years

Text

this sucks, i’m lovesick; jj maybank

summary: a “near death experience” is the perfect way to draw out a long awaited love confession

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: mentions of almost drowning and talk of weed

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this has been in my drafts for ages and i completely forgot to post it so anon who requested i’m so sorry but she’s here now <3

"y'know, i'm surprised it's taken you this long to ask for my help." jj eyes you almost suspiciously, his hands pressed into your surfboard as though to hold it steady as you straddled it. his blonde hair was dark and wet, pushed back off his face and curling just slightly at his temples, water clinging like stars to his lashes. he blinked up at you and for a second you tracked the droplet that slid like a tear down his cheek.

it was knocking on three hours since you'd dragged your best friend to the beach and half demanded that he teach you how to surf, dodging any questions he'd thrown your way as to why you suddenly wanted his help. because in all honesty, there wasn't exactly a why, not one that you could tell jj without wanting the ground to swallow you whole. you wanted to hang out with him, without the string of girls that seemed to follow him everywhere, and figured surfing would be the perfect idea. tourons couldn't surf, granted neither could you, but that was the point. jj had been hounding you to learn for years and he wouldn't pass up the opportunity now you were practically begging.

"i was tired of being left out of the competitions, i want the chance to win mr heyward's famous brownies." you skimmed your fingers over the surface of the water, flicking a generous amount onto jj's arm as he sent you an amused glance. the setting sun made his eyes seem brighter, the blue soft and comforting and always so full of trouble, corners crinkling just slightly with his smile.

"what's the point when you always help yourself to half of mine when i win." you rolled your eyes, leaning back to gaze up at the sky, hands pushing through the water to keep your board steady. you could feel jj's eyes on you, could feel the heat of his attention licking across every exposed inch of skin, your pulse kicking up slightly as you let yourself wonder if he was checking you out the way you often did him. it was a miracle you hadn't been caught out yet, if jj was around, your eyes were more than likely glued to him, hanging on to his every word like a lovesick puppy. you were certain john b had sussed you out but he was far too wrapped up in his own head lately to care that you were fantasising about breaking the one group rule.

no pogue on pogue macking.

but really, as long as you didn't act on your feelings you weren't exactly breaking any rules. and like you'd muttered to yourself hundreds of times when you found yourself falling just that little bit harder for your best friends dimples and ridiculous escape plans: the rule was stupid anyway.

"i know they'll taste better when i've won them." you let your gaze find his again, surprised to find a soft dusting of pink over the highs of his cheeks, a sheepish look schooling over his features. you raised a brow and he looked away, eyes turning to the quickly setting sun, the orange glow spreading further across the ocean. "what are you doing later?" your stomach rolled with the possibility he was hanging out with one of his many flings, your hands pushing your board a little further away from him as he remained standing.

"thought we could grab something to eat after this? kie left her laptop at the chateau the other night and john b said he's working late so we could crash there and watch shitty movies and get high." jj wasn't looking at you, he'd instead turned his attention to making sure the surfboard leash was tied securely around your ankle, fingers firm on your skin. even within the water you could feel the heat of them, the goosebumps they sent skittering across your body when they grazed up your calf.

you had to swallow down your happiness at his answer, shove down the bubble of giddiness that threatened to spill out over his offer because it wasn't as if you and jj had never spent time alone together. you used to hang out just the two of you all the time, it was only this summer that he'd started to stray toward other girls, to blow off alone time with you in favour of alone time with them. this was the first time in at least three weeks that it had been just you and jj again, the troublesome twosome who'd once wreak havoc on every inch of the island and you were more than happy that your surfing plot was turning out better than you'd expected.

"didn't you say your cousin got busted?" jj had secured the leash again but he didn't remove his hand, just kept his fingers pressed against the back of your leg, thumb sweeping over your too hot skin. he shook his hair out and sent you a crooked grin, one that made your heart fizz.

"you think i'm dumb enough to only have one dealer?" your arched brow said enough and he finally let go of you, playfully shoving your board away with an eye roll. you wobbled a little at the force, arms shooting out for balance. "i'm not dumb when it comes to weed, sweetheart. y'wanna have one more go and then we'll head back? i'm starving."

you only nodded, sucking in a breath before going through the steps jj had practically drilled into your head, overly aware of his eyes on you. so far you'd simply paddled on your board, attempted to stay standing for more than ten seconds as the slowly growing waves bobbed you around and as you pushed yourself further out you told yourself the last time would be the charm. water lapped over your board, slipped over your thighs and pushed back against your hands, the waves coming towards you seeming a lot bigger than the previous ones.

"hey, i think you've gone far enough, nemo!" jj had to shout in order for you to hear him, the distance you'd put between you larger than it had been before and you could hear the hitch of worry in his voice. you threw him a grin over your shoulder and waved an unbothered hand.

"i was born for this, maybank, prepare to be amazed." you knew you were being cocky, unnecessarily so, but there was a screaming part of you that wanted to impress jj, that wanted to show him you weren't that useless when it came to surfing. you eyed the water, watched the waves roll in and then leant forward, chest pressed flat to the board, hands pushing you further towards the oncoming waves.

"you drown and i won't share my weed with you!" he was teasing, of course he was, he didn't think you were actually stupid enough to try and tackle a wave, he didn't think you would end up slipping only seconds after pushing off to your feet. you wobbled at first, just slightly and then the wave crashed into the front of your board, the impact sending you toppling into the water. a surprised yelp slipped past your lips, followed by a groan when you hit the ocean, jj's shout of your name getting lost as you went under. the shock had you forgetting for a second and salt water seemed to rush into your mouth and bubble in your nose, stinging your eyes as you tried to kick up and break the surface.

only you'd swallowed a considerable amount of water, your lungs starting to burn and in your panicked state you pushed a little too hard and with little coordination, head smacking harshly into the side of your board. a flare of white hot pain bloomed over your heard, had you sucking in even more water and then nothing.

"jesus christ."

"if you die on me i swear to god i'll kill you."

"breathe, y/n!"

"fuck, c'mon," someone was slapping your cheek, with a little more force than you thought was necessary, their hands quickly switching to press down hard on your chest and your eyes flew open, a violent cough wracking your body. water bubbled out of your mouth and then those same hands were turning you on to your side, pressing soft into you back as you coughed up half of the ocean, your throat and nose and eyes stinging, chest on fire. "you almost give me a fucking heart attack!"

jj sounded frantic, his voice sharp and a few octaves higher and when you were certain you'd gotten all of the water up you lifted your head to gape at him. you were panting, body shaking from the panic and cold, sand sticking to every inch of your skin and you were sure you probably looked a mess but all you could do was stare. he was kneeling beside your legs, shirtless still and soaked again from the ocean, the setting sun seeming to create a halo behind his head and despite his obvious worries and the slight spark of annoyance in his eyes he looked heartbreakingly gorgeous.

"yo, dude, did the water mess up your hearing?"

"you slapped me."

"i-what?"

"you slapped me."

"of course i slapped you! you were unconscious and you'd swallowed half the worlds water supply and probably a few fish, what else was i supposed to do?" jj shook his head in disbelief, splattering you with droplets of water and sat back on his knees, his hand that had been pressed against your back settling instead on your thigh when you sat up. heat seemed to bloom from the spot, goosebumps skittering across your skin from the point of contact and your heart have an unsteady thump in your chest.

your teeth were chattering and in an attempt to warm up you wrapped your arms around your self, shifting closer to jj in the sand. "you're not supposed to slap someone who's just almost drowned."

"you're not supposed to try and ride a wave when you've only been learning for five minutes."

"that wave came out of no where."

"you were being cocky." you went to argue but then jj's hands were suddenly on your face and your mouth ran dry (an after effect of the gallons of saltwater you told yourself), a hot flush rising up your chest. he gently tilted your head from one side to the other, thumbs grazing over your cheeks and you shivered even more at the cool bite of his rings against your skin.

"what're you doing?" you weren't sure why you were whispering or why you couldn't seem to tear your gaze from the downward curve of jj's mouth, your fingers digging into the soft sand at your sides. he had a cut on his bottom lip, almost completely healed from his last run in with some kooks and a burning need to brush your thumb over it crawled up your chest. his tongue pushed out, swept slowly over that same lip and you briefly wondered if he'd done it on purpose.

"checking for injuries, you whacked your head pretty hard." jj's voice had also dropped and his finger was brushing feather light over your hairline, pushing with just enough pressure that you could feel the forming bruise. "gonna have a golf ball up here when you wake up in the morning, might rival the size of your ego."

"john b has a freezer full of peas i can hold against it, i don't think he'd miss one bag."

"you're an idiot, y'know." you made a noncommittal noise, still staring at his lips, at the dip in the centre of his top one, at the years old scar that was just between his nose and his cupids bow. mesmerised slightly by the way they shaped your name when he blew it out with a sigh. he dropped his hands from your face, one of them settling over the top of yours as it rested in the sand. "i'm serious. you could have gotten seriously hurt. you were supposed to just stay standing, you weren't supposed to throw yourself headfirst into the wave like some olympic gold medalist."

jj was going on, complaining about your stupidity and the fact he was never gonna teach you how to surf again and how you were banned from sharing his weed for the next two weeks while you thought about the consequences of your actions. but you weren't thinking about your actions or the lack of weed or the dull throbbing that had started in your head. you were thinking that jj maybank was quite possibly the most beautiful person you'd ever laid eyes on.

you were thinking about the way the sun glinted off his hair and how you wanted to map out every freckle that dusted the broad expanse of his shoulders. about the soft way his fingers trailed your face and how despite the anger in his eyes he was still looking at you like you were the only girl he ever wanted to look at. you were thinking about those god awful lips and how good it felt to hear him say your name and how you wanted to feel them pressed hot and feverish against every part of your body. you were thinking about the time when you were eight years old and you tripped in the street, scraping you knee until it was nothing but shredded skin and blood and jj was there, tying his bandana around like a bandage, flashing you a boyish smile before he helped you to your feet. jj was always there.

you were thinking about how much you loved him.

"you know that means no smoking tonight, right? you gotta earn your smoking privileges back, this is good weed that i got, there's no way i'm wasting it on an idiot like you. you can-"

"i love you." jj reared back as though you'd taken a turn at slapping him, his words falling short as he blinked at you. and blinked again, mouth opening and closing and for the first time in his life, jj maybank was speechless. for a few moments you simply stared at each other, the sun almost completely lost beyond the horizon, the sounds of laughter and yells from further along the beach almost completely gone, the water creeping closer along the shore to where you were settled.

a thousand emotions seemed to play out across his face, his eyes flitting from your own to the space over your shoulder, his hand which was still on top of yours on the sand a heavy weight. the longer he was silent the more your heart tripped and sputtered, regret and hesitation replacing your earlier boldness and you pulled your hand from beneath his, tucked your legs a little closer to your body.

"j.." your teeth had started to chatter again, from the gust of wind that blew in and from the nerves running riot through your body and it was that and the soft plea in your tone that had jj blinking out of his daze.

“how hard did you hit your head?” his tone was light and teasing, a soft spark to his eyes and an even softer curve to his lips, both of which sent your heart into a frenzy. your own mouth tipped lopsidedly.

“maybe hard enough to give me a concussion.”

“rattled a few brain cells loose.” jj’s smile had dragged your attention back down to his lips, your eyes following the way he swiped his tongue over the bottom again before biting into the inside of his cheek. his fingers found yours on the sand again, his pinky sliding alongside yours and he’d somehow leant his body in closer to you, the space between you almost non existent. you could smell his cologne beneath the scent of the ocean that always seemed to cling to him and the smallest hint of something woodsy that made your head spin a little. you weren’t sure yet if the head spinning was because you’d almost drowned or because jj was so close and you could feel the heat of his skin pressed against your thigh.

“did you even hear what i said?”

“i heard.” you narrowed your eyes and locked them on his, unsure what he was thinking. there was something different in his eyes, he was looking at you with such intensity that you almost squirmed, heart thumping in your throat.

“you heard? and you’re not gonna say anything?” you watched him shrug, felt his fingers curl around yours while his other hand reached to your face, fingers brushing gentle over the curve of your jaw. his thumb swiped over your chin, grazed your bottom lip and sent another wave of shivers over you.

“i was thinking i might make you wait a few years before i say it back. think of it as payback.”

“payback?” you felt stupid, confused and a little fuzzy because of the way he was touching you and you worried your brain had somehow shut down from water damage. you frowned and willed yourself to stop staring at his mouth, the way he was only inches from yours. one small move forward and you could kiss him. “payback for what?”

“for making me wait years for you to say it.” jj’s fingers settled beneath your chin and tipped your head back, his mouth teasing softly over yours as you fell completely still. you were afraid if you moved he’d pull back, if you blinked he’d disappear because maybe you were still under the water and this was your brains way of mocking you. his breath was hot against your lips and so very real. “i thought old shoupe was gonna get me locked up before i heard you say it.”

“you knew?”

“you’re about as subtle as a house on fire.” he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your chin, slipped his fingers around the back of your neck and bumped your nose.

“i can be subtle.”

“you think i didn’t notice you ogling me like a piece of meat? your bedroom eyes are practically engraved into my head.” you tried to bite back your smile, wrapped your fingers around his wrist and toyed with the bracelets he had there.

“if you don’t hurry up and kiss me i’m gonna take it back.”

“bossy bossy, you wanna watch your mouth.”

“i don’t-” jj pressed his mouth over yours and every thought you’d ever had seemed to scatter, replaced with one flashing thought that you were finally kissing him. his lips were soft, warmer than your own and firm in their demand of working you open, tongue finding yours almost instantly. he tasted like the chocolate he’d eaten not long ago with the faintest trace of his cigarettes and if it had been anyone else you would have found the combination disgusting. but it was jj and it simply had you tugging him closer with your finger hooked in his shark tooth necklace, humming quietly when he skimmed his hand over your ribs and around your back to press you to him.

you got lost in his kisses, in the languid stroke of his tongue against yours and the teasing nip to your bottom lip that made you almost choke on a whine. you slid your hand into his hair, tugged just enough to make him hiss, his mouth trailing hot kisses over your cheek and jaw in an attempt to compose himself. you grazed your nails over his scalp, drifted them down his neck and jj shuddered against you, his lips settling against your shoulder.

“i love you, too. in case it wasn’t clear.”

#outer banks #outer banks one shot #outer banks fluff #outer banks x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank smut

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jennay · 8 months

Text

Dreaded Sickness

Request:

Hi!! I love your writing so much. It's so refreshing to see some fluff. I was wondering if you could do something where the reader has a cold or the flu, and Noah takes care of them. I've been a lil stuffy lately and feel like this would be super cute. 💕

Word Count: 1800ish

Noah Sebastian x reader

No warnings.

Noah Master List

An: hope you enjoy this! I tried not to sound too cliché. Let me know what you think💜

Being sick was your worst nightmare. You took vitamins regularly, washed your hands constantly, and wore masks at work.

You avoided touching door handles; if you ever heard someone was sick, you would avoid contact with them.

Noah found it humorous and often teased that you needed to be put in one of those plastic hamster balls, and he would carry you around.

He'd never seen you sick for the three years you had been dating, so it was all new to him when you left work early and texted him: I'm dying.

He saw you this morning when you left, and you looked ok. He assumed you got the sniffles and were overreacting, but when he saw you in the bedroom with the blankets covering every inch of your body, concern rushed to his core.

"Oh, babe." He whispers, sitting at the edge of the bed; his hand falls to your shoulder. A frown on his lips when he hears you struggling to breathe. He gently sets his hand on your forehead, gauging your body's temperature.

Your eyes flutter open at his touch, "Hey." You quietly groan while pushing yourself into a seated position. What a mistake that was; your body feels heavy, and sitting up feels like a chore. All the blood rushed to your head, making you feel like passing out.

Noah wraps his tattooed arm around your body, bracing for the impact of you against his chest. "What happened to you?" He asks, running his fingers through the ends of your hair.

You sigh, "I feel like shit, and everything hurts." You gently pull out of his arms and collapse back on the bed. You pull the blankets back to your face and close your eyes.

"Are you just stuffed up?" He lies beside you on the blankets, propped up on his elbow to observe you. You look a little flushed, your lips are dry from breathing through your mouth, and your eyes are a bit puffy from rubbing them.

"I don't know." You whisper, turning on your side to face the wall. You feel his hand rub your back soothingly.

"Do you want to try a bath? I can get it started." He offers.

"I don't think I can walk there." You softly say. "I don't even know if I have control over my limbs right now."

Noah chuckles, "Good thing I've had lots of practice carrying you around." He sits up and walks over to the bathroom that connects to your room. "I'll be right back."

You hear the water turn on, and Noah hums while waiting there. You're grateful for him and don't want to be rude, but part of you wants him to let you sleep.

You can only imagine what he's filling the tub up with. Bubbles, bath salts, bath bombs…there was a wide variety to choose from, but knowing him, he would overdo it. You were too tired to care. You hear the water turn off, and his footsteps gradually get closer.

"Ready?" He asks, slowly pulling the blankets down your body. "Do you want me to carry you?" He doesn't give you time to answer before he slips an arm under your back and the other under your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

It always surprised you when he picked you up without an issue, no groans, no sighing, and no complaints.

You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, "It's so cold."

He frowns, feeling your body shiver against him. "I know, babe. It's only for a second." He brushes his lips against your forehead. "You're going to be ok. I promise. I'm here."

Noah lowers you to the floor, and a groan escapes your lips as the cold tile chills your skin. He removes your clothes, flings them aside, and then offers you his hand. You cling to him as he guides you into the bathtub.

You sigh as the heat wraps around you, soothing your aching body. You were reluctant to do this, but you're thankful Noah convinced you.

The water feels smooth and gentle, with lavender bubbles and elderberry oils nourishing your skin.

Noah squats beside you, his brown eyes sparkling with happiness as he watches you rest your head and close your eyes. He feels proud of himself for giving you some relief.

He loves seeing you happy and relaxed; it makes him happy, too. He thinks about how lucky he is to have you in his life. He never thought he'd find such a connection with someone, but here you were, constantly making him realize the amount of love he could truly feel for someone. “Do you need anything else?” He wonders aloud.

You shake your head slightly. “No, but can you stay in here?” You ask him softly. "I feel like I'm going to fall asleep, and I don't want to drown." You think about how lucky you are to have him in your life, how much easier life has been with him by your side. The comfort he gives you, how much love he shows you.

You think about how he always knows what to say or do to make you feel better, to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you feel safe. You think about how he’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed, everything you ever dreamed of.

He sits on the tile and leans back against the wall, “Of course.” He says without any hesitation.

A smile pulls at your lips, “I’m glad you found me.” You whisper.

He chuckles, watching you sink deeper into relaxation, “I’m glad I found you too.”

He smiles at you with a nostalgic look in his eyes. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He asks you, thinking about the moment that changed everything.

You had caught his attention on Instagram with a video you recorded singing. He wanted to collaborate with you on a duet. He sent you a message and asked you politely. You replied and declined him firmly. You told him that his music wasn’t suitable for your voice and that you didn’t have the experience he was looking for.

He didn’t give up, though. He kept sending you messages and trying to persuade you. He complimented your voice and your style. He told you how much he admired your talent and your passion. He said he had a perfect song for you and would love to hear you sing it with him.

You resisted his charm for two more months, but he was persistent and persuasive. You finally agreed to give him a chance, but you warned him that he would regret wasting his time.

The moment he saw you in person, his life changed.

You walked into the studio with a confident smile and a casual outfit. You wore jeans and a T-shirt that showed off your curves. You had your hair in a ponytail and sunglasses on your head. You looked calm and relaxed like you did this every day.

He was stunned by your beauty and your charisma. He felt his heart skip a beat and his mouth go dry. He greeted you warmly and introduced you to his producer and his bandmates.

They were all friendly and welcoming. You shook their hands and complimented their work. You made them laugh with your jokes and your wit. He could tell they liked you instantly.

He led you to the recording booth and handed you a pair of headphones and a microphone. He explained the song he had written for you and played a demo for you. It was a romantic ballad with a catchy chorus, the complete opposite of what you'd heard from him. You listened attentively and nodded along. You liked the melody and the lyrics. You told him it was a beautiful song and you were honored to sing it with him.

He pressed the record button and signaled you to start. You took a deep breath and sang the first verse with your powerful voice. It was sweet and soulful, full of emotion and expression. He joined you in the chorus, and you felt yourself melt at the sound of his voice. You harmonized perfectly and felt a spark between you.

The song ended, and he clapped his hands enthusiastically. He praised your performance. You had a few hours of goofing off but also moments of seriousness.

You followed him to the control room, where he played the song for you, and you both listened with admiration. It sounded like magic. You felt proud of what you had created together.

Noah admitted to you he had been following your Instagram for a long time and that he was a big fan of your voice. He said he had always wanted to work with you and was glad you finally agreed. He said he had enjoyed every moment of singing with you and that he felt a special connection with you. He asked you out the next day.

"I thought I was going to pass out." Noah laughs, "Can you believe that was three years ago?" He asks you.

You nod, "Best three years of my life. Thanks for continuing to try." You softly say. You slowly sit up in the bath and blink your eyes a few times, ready to get up, a yawn falling from your lips. "Can you hand me the towel?"

Noah stands up and grabs the towel, reaching for your hand to help you step out. He wraps the towel around your body and leads you to the room. "Go sit." He says, pointing to the bed; he walks away to the dresser and grabs you some fresh clothes, bending down in front of you. He starts at your legs and walks to your top, sliding your shirt over your body. He gently kisses your nose, making you giggle. "I love you." He quietly says.

"I love you too. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

Noah shrugs as you get back under the blanket and curl on the pillows. "You make it easy." He tucks the blankets under your body, making sure you won't get cold. He sits next to you, crawling in bed and pulling you close to him. He kisses your temple, "I want you to get some rest, OK?"

You nod, "I'll try to sleep, but don't go too far, please." You softly say, snuggling into his chest. "I'm scared I'm not going to wake up."

Noah smiles, melting at the idea of you needing him. "You're going to be ok, princess. I'll be right here when you wake up." He closes his eyes, getting comfortable beside you, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

He hopes that when you wake up, this nightmare will be over, but until then he will lay here keeping you safe in his arms.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction

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chronically-ghosted · 8 months

Text

can you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills?

rating: T (this is the tamest thing I’ve written in years)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a year into secretly dating, you are overwhelmed by your feelings for Dieter Bravo, confident and resigned to the fact that he doesn’t feel the same way. But on Oscar’s night, drunk on sparkling wine and a terrific win, Dieter gives you a reason to doubt your fears.

warnings/tags: age gap, self-aggrandizing rumination on our public vs private personas, a stupid amount of kissing, angst but soft angst, angst that is resolved, this is very different from anything i’ve done recently, and there’s no smut? just kisses? What have you become Taylor? one very very very soft Dieter, waxing shamelessly poetic about being in love and being loved by Dieter Bravo

a/n: this comes from the same request by two of my LOVELY followers ( @tvversionperson and @bitchwitch1981) from my 100 followers event: “I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?” “You’re not doing anything.” “But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?” with Dieter Bravo. this is so wildly different from anything i've done before, i'm flinging this into the internet like a goddamn trapshooter of emotional angst

shout out to @iamdesibell for the visuals of Dieter at the party. She spoils me with all of her incredible Dieter artwork.

🤍Masterlist

Every artist knows it's about the looks. The aesthetics of it all, the internet’s new favorite buzzword. Increasingly too often, the merit of the artwork is equated to the moral merit of the artist; it’s not so much about selling the image you create, it’s about selling the image of yourself. Does the artist fit into the image of what the masses imagine when they hear what the artist offers? Can the artist balance both the expectations and provide something new? When is the right time to break the mold, and be different, or when is it best to follow the crowd? Keep your head down and make more content than art. When does the aesthetics of a thing matter more than the thing itself?

For Oscar’s night, often there is nothing more important than the look of things. The elegance. The allure but approachability of the stars. Beautiful but obtainable. Handsome but effortless. But beneath all the veneer, all the lights, and gold and glitz, there is a yearning, an animalistic hunger, for a quite literal shiny object waved in their faces to clamor and push and shove for. The beauty is a mask that covers fragility and fear and anticipation – and that mask must remain firmly in place, no matter the outcome. Remember, they’re watching, always watching, and you cannot want a thing too much, lest you become conceited or conniving. You cannot love in a way that scares them.

And sometimes, you think you love him in a way that scares yourself.

His warm palm grips yours over your knee. He, along with the other nominees, wait patiently as the names are read allowed from the gilded stage. His face, a mask – of curiosity, of wonder – but only you, perhaps because you are so close to him, can see the fraught want in his eyes. You know how much he wants this, how much you want this for him. He wants it so much he’s trembling. Microscopically. Barely at all, barely a flinch of genuine human emotion, it makes you sick. Because Dieter, the Dieter you’ve come to know in the past year, is so wonderfully unpolished, such a sterling testament to the beauty in the raw, it makes a spot behind your sternum ache to watch him hold himself back.

You want to give him a smile of encouragement, to kiss his knuckles and soothe his hammering pulse with your thumb, but you can’t. You can’t even look at him, any movement immediately flagged by the cameras. Always watching.

But behind the rows of seats, they can’t see your clasped hands. Can’t see his tapping foot. They can’t see how much he wants, how much he loves. As the names are read aloud for the category of Best Actor, you lift your thumbnail to the meat of his palm, between his own thumb and index finger. Gently, softly, quietly, so as not to startle the molecules of air around you, you draw a heart in his skin.

But by his rigid posture, you’re not sure he registers it. You can’t tell if he knows you’re there at all.

It began a year ago.

After a truly spectacular break up that left you bereft and aimless, you decided to quit. Quit it all. Quit and start over doing the one thing you actually had passion for: screenwriting. Was it risky and dumb as hell at your age? Absolutely. But it didn’t matter if you never ended up writing for a big Hollywood film, you told yourself, as long as you were writing, that’s all that mattered.

So you quit writing articles about car insurance, packed up everything, and moved to the City of Angels.

Two years later, you were still earning your dues. Still working from the bottom of the barrel up, climbing through muck and verbal abuse and emotional exploitation and the very dredges of the industry.

You tried to focus on your craft, on getting more than just getting coffee for the actual writers, but after multiple days spending nineteen hours on your feet, the capacity to be creative so rarely comes, your brain often sizzled and fried like the back end of a janky, unreliable toaster. The production company you worked for had just purchased the rights to a popular novelist’s book for a film adaptation. The party you were at was more of a “pat yourself on the back” sort of thing for the director and novelist to rub elbows while surrounded by beautiful people. Attending mind-numbing parties for the sake of building connections was one thing. You could actually have fun when you wanted, but this? This self-indulgent, ego-driven, flattery bullshit, when all you wanted to do was sleep?

You watch as Eliot Baker, friend of the director and whose house is currently being trashed by a bunch of dangerously drunk and high animals, steps up onto his kitchen table. His pupils nearly dilated to the size of quarters, he holds up a baggy of white powder.

“Anyone interested in Colombia’s finest, please join me in the bedroom. Beautiful women, please stay.”

The three shots you had done earlier had done nothing to dull your irritation, now amplified by the grating cheer that goes up from the crowd. Coke rarely puts you in a better mood, but at least it’s better than sulking by the stairs. Eliot leaps off the table and leads a gaggle of giggling women, and men with their hands all over their sparkly asses, down the hall and you try not to roll your eyes, your feet all but dragging beneath you.

Then someone catches you by the elbow.

And you wonder how a homeless man got past security.

A comically large green beanie on his head, a blindly yellow hood zipped up over what perhaps had been a white t-shirt – you are immediately arrested by his dark, soft eyes. Thick, furrowed brow. He hasn’t let go of your elbow.

“That guy is a fucker,” he tells you with vehemence.

“What?” He could have asked you your name and you would have said the exact same thing.

“Baker,” he sneers over your shoulder at the small crowd tumbling through the open door, Eliot’s too blue eyes watching like a farmer counts cattle to the slaughterhouse. “He laces his shit. Makes you too fucked up. He’s the kind of evil fucker who roofies drinks.”

The stranger looks at you, the twist of rage around his mouth fading, eyes softening again, as if he is worried about you.

“Don’t go in there,” he says.

His warm hand is still around your elbow.

“Okay,” you say because you haven’t come across anyone this earnest, maybe in your entire life, and certainly not since moving to LA.

He blinks, as if surprised, and slowly withdraws his hand. You stare at each other for perhaps too long before he jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“Wanna smoke some weed?”

The cool night air of LA always surprises you. It’s never cold, no, but the chill is noticeable, tangible, always right at the back of your neck when you least expect it. You stifle the urge to shiver as the man slides the glass door behind him, immediately deafening the party inside. You hadn’t realized it had been so loud until there is blissful silence, the sound of blood rushing in your ears replacing the trance music and the dull hum of overlapping voices.

The man straight off the set of The Big Lebowski unhurriedly digs around in the pocket of that obnoxious hoodie for a bit, as if he could lose an item in that small pouch.

He finds what he’s looking for with a grin on his face, and when he brings both the lighter and blunt to his lips, you realize his left arm is in a cast.

He sees you eye it, managing to light and hit the blunt with one hand before pocketing the lighter and offering the smoke to you. The browns in his eyes are overcome by the darkness surrounding you on the back porch overlooking the valley below, the skyline of Los Angeles winking in the far distance.

You notice something, not writing or words on his cast, more like a dark blot, but you don’t ask him about it. Most people in this business you’ve found are only on for the cameras and when it comes to personal, quiet moments, the less personable they have to be the better. You feel like you’re already pressing your luck by getting a few free hits off this guy so you wait your turn, ready to be as silent as he wants it to be.

Which apparently isn’t very much at all.

“How’d you end up here?” He asks with genuine interest and just a touch of weariness.

You shrug as you take the blunt from him again. “My boss is here to schmooze his new writer. As his assistant, I think I’m contractually obligated to be around him more than his own shadow.”

“You’re a PA?” He asks, voice strained and full of smoke, before he puffs out the side of his mouth. A considerate smoker, then.

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m whatever is lower than a PA. I think an actual bottom-feeder in a fish tank has more power than me.”

“So you’re new to the scene?”

You scowl, one arm tucked around your waist, the other tapping on your thigh. “Yeah, if two years is still new.”

He frowns. “What are you trying to break into?”

His fingertips brush yours over the next exchange and maybe it’s the earnest look in his eyes, or the bizarre fact that he actually smells good despite looking like he’d raided a garbage can, or maybe it’s the weed finally hitting, but you are honest with this complete stranger.

“I wanna be a screenwriter.”

Maybe it’s the drugs finally hitting him too, but the glossy shine to his eyes doesn’t seem to be from boredom as you explain to him the past few years of your life, starting from the breakup in Boston to getting a very specific brand of q-tips from a drugstore on the other side of town for your boss at midnight.

“I know I have to pay my dues, and I don’t mind that, but I just want to do something that matters, you know?” The unexpected chill of the night air curls around your neck as he listens intently to your uninterrupted ramble for ten minutes. “I don’t even care about big movies, or the awards, I want to write something that touches just one person. Give them something to think about for years to come. Comforts or encourages them to do the thing they’re scared of doing.” You feel heat climb up your ears as he watches as though you’re the most fascinating thing in the world. “It’s silly. It’s just a job, and I know I should treat it like that . . .”

You trail off, waiting for him to admonish you, but instead he grins. A smile that widens his whole face. On someone else it might look condescending, but he’s grinning wildly as he slides the joint back into his mouth with two fingers and leans back on his heels.

“So you’re a little dreamer, huh?” That faint blush now beats a harsh red. Fuck, you knew you sounded like an idiot – always opening up too soon and too fast to strangers who don’t really give a fuck. You were just supposed to have a conversation with this nice, albeit weird guy and go on your way and –

He cocks his head as he looks at you, takes in your beet-red ears and cheeks and that smile falters.

“You know that’s not a bad thing, right? The world needs more dreamers. People, who despite all the bullshit, continue to believe they can be happy.”

“You could also call that being delusional,” you mutter as you take the halfway-spent joint from him when he offers.

One of those thick eyebrows jerks as though thinking of a funny joke. He shrugs, his mouth twisting down in a disbelieving smirk. “Personally, I like to call it whimsy.”

Whimsy? Who talks like that?

You fight a giggle and find him looking at you again, that smile smoothed out and warm again. One glance and you snort loudly, then bust out laughing.

Those magnanimous eyes glitter as he watches you laugh yourself silly.

“Child-like, wondrous whimsy,” he teases and you laugh harder as though he tickled you. Another snort explodes out of you and you clap your hand over your mouth, finally hearing the noises you’re making and mortified beyond reason. You glance over your shoulder, worried someone else might have heard your donkey laugh. In fact, you wish anyone other than the gorgeous man standing next to you had heard it.

But if he finds it unpolished or annoying, he doesn’t show it. He just rolls on his heels, grinning and looking overly pleased with himself. When the giggles subside, you bite your lip at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Fire away, Pistol Pete.”

“How’d you break your arm?”

He looks down at it as he forgot it was there.

“Uh, it’s a long story.”

He finally pulls it out of the sleeve of his jacket. Your mouth drops.

You can’t even tell what medium had been used, either paint or sharpie or something else entirely, but the cast is a mosaic of some of the most gorgeous artwork you’d ever seen. Birds in gold and blue hues, flowers and leaves in stunningly rendered detail, the curves of anonymous noses and lips and teeth and earlobes – all wound together in collage by someone with an eye for detail and a precious reverence for the mundane.

But for all the artwork, designs you fully believe should be in a museum, you realize no one has signed it. Maybe only twelve year olds sign each other’s casts, you think harshly to yourself. Grow up.

But still, the sight makes you a little sad.

“Did you do these?” You ask quietly.

He nods, turning his arm to give you a better look, as if eager for your approval. You think you see the horns of Goya’s El Gran Cabrón before he pulls his arm back.

The man hasn’t answered your original question, watching your face for every microexpression. Finally, you do glance up and he has his bottom lip in teeth, as though preparing to be scolded.

At that moment, you want nothing more than to kiss those plush lips. You swallow, feeling rather lighted-headed and capable of making terrible decisions, so you take a clear step back.

“I got daydrunk and fell in my pool wrong.”

You frown at him. “That’s not a very long story.”

He drops your gaze, suddenly bashful, and shakes his sleeve back over his cast. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t come up with a better story that makes me look really cool, or makes you laugh, so I went with the lame truth.”

You don’t remark that it sounds like he wanted to impress you so you go for the easy alternative.

“Why would I laugh at you?”

He flops his arms in half-shrug. “I don’t want you to laugh at me. I just want you to laugh. I like your laugh.”

How does someone who wears their heart so openly on their sleeve survive in a place like this? You want him to swallow you down so you can count the rings in his stomach, learn his history like oak trees.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, your mouth full of cotton and brain somewhat disconnected from your brain stem.

At that, he laughs. “Gimme your number and you’ll find out.”

His smile elongates the longer you stare at him. “It’s not a line. I mean, it is, but not like that, if you don’t want it to be. This fucking industry is built on who you know and I know a couple of people to know. You can call me if you have any questions or need a reference.”

The whiplash between flirty tease and professional contact is jarring. Your fingers shaking from shock, you take your phone out of your pocket and hand it to him.

He taps away, bobbing his head to some tune only he can hear, before lifting it up to his face and snapping a selfie – tongue out and eye squinting into the flash.

He tosses your phone back and you learn his name for the first time.

The shock wears off immediately and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, my turn.”

He digs into his back pocket and slides a bright pink 2007 motorola flip-phone into your outstretched hand.

Full – chock full, in fact – of surprises.

“I’m not gonna get tracked,” he says seriously, eyes narrowed. “You really should think about giving up your iPhone. All kinds of bad vibes.”

You eagerly look forward to him explaining the Big Foot Conspiracy and his theories about the magic silver bullet.

It takes you a second to type out your name with the multiple buttons, some old sense memory from seventh grade coming back like a grumpy, displeased ghost, but finally, you snap the phone together and toss it back to him.

With the nub of the smoking joint poking out of his mouth, he frowns when he looks at the phone screen.

“Dolly Parton?”

You pluck the joint out of his mouth, a surge of playful confidence keeping your eyes locked on his. You nod. “Since we’re doing the whole fake name thing . . .”

You want to wink, with your hand on your hip, so clever to have figured out his little game, but when he continues to frown, that rush of bravery fizzles out.

“But the name I put in your phone is actually my name?”

You chuckle, surprised and confused he’s still committing to the bit, a little frustrated at this point because you are actually starting to like this guy and . . .

Unless . . .

“You’re actually Dieter Bravo? The actor? Three-time Emmy nominated actor Dieter Bravo?”

He loops his finger through one of the free-roaming curls from under the beanie and twists it. “That’s what it says on my underwear . . . when I remember to wear it.”

The blush on your face now scalding, you dart across the space between you and him and snatch his phone back. You can literally feel the shameful heat in your spine, your lower back, as you delete Dolly’s name and frantically type in your own.

“I’m so, so, sorry. I was just trying to be funny. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you but it’s dark and, um, you don’t look like I thought you would and I-I had no idea – I’m so sorry –,”

“Girlie, take a breath,” he chuckles and strokes your fingers as they tremble over the keypad. “I’ve never seen someone so stressed out after smoking half a joint before.”

You’ve gone stock still as he bleeds the panic out of you with just his touch. You watch as his warm hand, dwarfing yours in size, slowly moves up to your wrist, your pulse point. His thumb presses into the vein and gently rubs. You can’t help the sigh that eases out of your throat as all the tension in your arm collapses into that one focal point, that one place he presses against you. You inhale, not realizing you had stopped breathing for a second and he releases gently, the ache in your body left over from the rigidity gone.

A brief dark haze passes over his eyes when you sigh, but gives you space easy enough when you settle.

He takes the phone out of your limp hands and reads what you’ve typed out.

“Cute name. But I think I’m still gonna call you Dolly.”

Humor is your gut instinct. Defuse a situation or calm your nerves, sometimes the best you can do is crack a (often poorly timed) joke. You feel all fluttery inside, partially because you’d been talking to Dieter “I know people who know people” Bravo all night and partially because you’re about 86% sure he’d been flirting with you. And so, without thinking, you say:

“Because of my massive tits, right?”

His eyes flit up from his phone screen to, presumably, your tits. Which are very much not Dolly-Parton-comparable.

But he grins. He actually giggles, pressing the back of the hand holding his phone against his lips as if trying to hide his smirk.

“Yeah, that’s definitely it.”

It is the kind of laugh that you know he’s laughing with you and not at you and he’s still staring when his laughter subsides.

He is still staring at your tits.

Just as your face flushes what feels like the hundredth time tonight, he glances up at you. He offers you the last puff, you shake your head, so he sucks in down before flicking the nub over the railing of the patio. His hands sit heavy in his front pocket, the frown on his face contemplative, eyes searching the horizon.

“I think you’re going to text me . . . on a Tuesday,” he says, like he’s divining portents from the shapes of the clouds.

You swallow, trying to purge yourself of this whiplash embarrassment, but you can’t quite decide what exactly to make of this man or this conversation. “What makes you say that?”

His smile is so genuine it rattles something inside you. “It’s my favorite day of the week.”

This feels too good, too real, too intense, too fast. It was a quiet, but familiar story passed around in writer’s rooms or on the back lots of sets: an older man seduces a young girl, promising the world, and then offering nothing once he had gotten what he wanted.

You beg your heartbeat to slow down.

But Dieter Bravo doesn’t seem capable of that, not with his honesty, his open heart, but then again none of them ever do.

That’s the whole point.

“So, um, I should go. My boss is probably out back, breaking things, pissed off because I’m not behind him with a fresh macchiato.” Your phone feels absurd in your hands, as if it now carries something vital inside of it. “But, uh, thank you – for everything. The smoke, the advice, listening to me ramble endlessly –,”

“You weren’t rambling,” he says, arms crossed and finger tugging at an errant curl again. “You were talking about what makes you happy and I was listening. I like listening to you.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

“I’ll call you sometime, okay?”

He nods, raising a hand in a wave, but as you turn away, something final, the last piece of the puzzle, pops into your brain.

“Why me?”

Dieter looks at you, big brown eyes confused like a puppy whom you scolded for chewing on your shoe.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s gotta be at least fifty people here. Why did you stop me from going into Eliot’s room?

Dieter shrugs, that easy smile returning. “You looked like the only other person who didn’t want to be here. And you’re really pretty,” he adds casually and your heart launches itself into your throat. “I’ve got a thing for really pretty girls. Gets me into a lot of trouble.”

There comes that heat, that flare in his gaze that makes you wonder how someone like him fucks, all proof necessary that he has a working cock, and he’s not some mystical, Willy-Wonka-esque Ken doll.

It’s a look that makes you wonder if he wants his cock in you.

“Good night, Dieter.”

“Night, Dolly.”

Weeks passed and immediately you were so drowned in work, Dieter Bravo occasionally slipped your mind, falling back on your list of things to do when a deadline was approaching.

But when a contract for a position in a new writer’s room passes over your desk, you pause, and immediately think of him. The offer is unbelievable. More money than you thought possible working as an underling. The channel set to produce was the real deal, likely to order more seasons if the first went well.

“Saw your writing,” your boss told you by way of explaining your dreams falling directly into your lap. “Good work. I sent some of it off, and the studio came back with this. Don’t take too long signing the dotted line, okay?”

You nod, dumb-founded as he walks off, and you glance back at the contract.

And, despite your almost desperate elation, something felt off. But you didn’t know enough about the industry to confidently say if this is a bad deal or not.

So, with a glance down the hall, you call the only person you know who would.

He is immediately livid. Not that you haven’t called, of course, but that someone has clearly tried to take advantage of you.

“Do not take that deal. That corporate bullshit means they’ll own your IP for years to come. I can’t believe they’d do that to you. Stay right there and whatever you do, do not sign that. I’m calling someone at the studios.”

“Yeah. Uh, okay, Dieter, I won’t,” you murmur, half-expecting your hand to burn if you picked the contract up again. “But, um, thank you, for being honest with me. It felt weird, but I didn’t want to pass up an opportunity and I was freaking out that this was the only one I was gonna get but I didn’t want to be rash,so I, um, . . .”

You trail off, the sudden silence on the other line only making your panic and shame more pronounced. You cringe inwardly – Dieter Bravo had better fucking things to do than console a baby screenwriter out of her first mistake – and Jesus, if there was ever a chance he was going to sleep with you, it’s long gone now – it must be, no one willingly sleeps with someone so goddamn gullible.

“Dolly?” His voice is quiet, but with a certain edge that makes you picture that implish little smirk. “Do you know what day it is?”

“No?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

That phone call turned into a new job with a female-led production team, thank yous over drinks, late-night dinners at obscure and dark Chinese food restaurants, movie nights at your shamefully small apartment, and then . . . a kiss.

Which led to all the rest.

A year later and you’re so in love with Dieter Bravo, you crank up Beyonce’s Countdown and belt it from the top of your lungs every time you hear it on the radio.

There’s a new irritant, a new agitation that can only be soothed by him. He’s remade you, changed you, reformed your very being to be missing a piece when he’s not around. He’s made space for him inside you, there was no life – not a real one, not a happy one – not before him and there won’t be anyone or anything after him. No one else fits with you anymore. Ever again.

Your blood runs hot over the ridges of his fingerprints, stamped deep on your soul and your bones.

Trouble is, he’ll never know.

“And the award for Best Actor goes to . . .”

His grip is almost painful and you return it with everything you can, your jaw drawn tight.

The pause feels like it lasts forever.

You hear his name and you think for a second you’ve blacked out, that you’ve somehow missed the moment, or you’ve somehow slipped into a pungently real dream.

And the crowd erupts.

The spotlight finds him in the crowd and you’re being pulled into his chest.

The cologne he wears costs more than your car payment but the instant you’re crushed up into his silken shirt, it’s him. Beneath all the layers, beneath the veneer, the man with the green beanie and fervent yellow jacket is still there. Somewhere. You love them both.

“You did it, darling, you did it,” you whisper into his ear and that’s all you can say before you know you have to tear yourself back, because every second you linger on him, the harder it becomes to quell this rising tide inside you that increasingly tastes like salt water whenever he’s around. It’s become so obvious his name resides in the cup of your mouth.

But when you do pull out of his embrace, in the ringing shout of the crowd, the sparkle of the spotlight, his hand lingers on your elbow, and in a space of a heartbeat that lasts impossibly longer in your memory, you’re met with such a look of profound regret you feel it take up room in your chest.

And in an instant, it’s gone. Grinning broadly, he drops your elbow and moves on down the line, cheered on by his peers, the white light from above illuminating his broad back, the bits of gray becoming ever more present in his beard. You cheer and you cheer and you cheer and you hope it’s from all the cheering that your voice grows hoarse and the tears start to trickle out of the corner of your eyes.

You’re trembling visibly as he accepts his award, showing just the right amount of awe, and appreciation, and excitement. He glances up into the spotlight and there’s the real Dieter for just a split second before he humbly gawks at the golden statue in his hand.

The clock begins.

Make your speech thoughtful and poignant – relevant to what is close to people’s hearts right now.

Be profusive with your thanks. Better start with that, actually. Lower yourself at the height of your glory.

Mention family, friends, names and faces that the masses don’t know because it makes you appear connected to a reality those watching on the television can only speculate about. Say something kindly about how this means so much to you.

Cry a bit, but not too much. Keep your voice steady but with tears in your eyes. Cut yourself off, the emotion too much, and say thank you again.

And anything more than three minutes, they start to play you off.

You’re mentally going through the notes on a potential acceptance speech his PR manager gave him on the drive over, but in the end, it’s clear he doesn’t need it.

Dieter’s speech is excellent.

Really good. Really, really, really good. It has a flare of genuinity, but not the bite of vulnerability that makes people uncomfortable.

He’s been practicing for weeks now, editing as he talks, in the mirror, while driving home from the grocery store, before he goes to sleep. Tonight’s speech, a compilation of all that you’ve listened to time and time again, is the best version of all of them.

He’s soft when he needs to be and excited when he can. He’s onto the gratitude bit, going through the director, the writers, the cast and crew, even his costar, whose beautiful face is shown on the twenty foot screen above the stage, joyful tears in her eyes. And as the applause dies down, his big hand dwarfing the tiny metal statue, his fingers flexing, Dieter’s back goes ridgid, his eyes downcast. A smile slips out infinitesimally.

Dieter clears his throat and looks up.

“And there’s someone else I’d like to thank. This, uh, this one goes to all the little dreamers out there. Working nine to five, to make your dreams happen. We did it, baby, couldn’t have done it without you.”

He stares into the camera and you swear, you fucking swear, he’s looking right at you.

It’s a drowning sort of wave, this focal point that draws you down into him. It’s all consuming and it’s tender and it touches places you didn’t know could go this warm and what else could describe this but love? You resent the Academy, this place, these people for keeping him away from you. You think you’ll claw out the eyes of anyone who tries to separate you again.

You are crying – for your industry friend, his guest at the Oscars, so sees the cameras and the glitz and the glamor.

You’re crying because you’re in too deep.

The rest of the night is dipped into a champagne glass and swirled fast, catching like lighting in a bottle.

Gold dust falling fast, dizzily.

Bubbles, glinting green and pink in the light, rising and winking out of existence.

Golden bubbles in your drink, in your mouth. Your throat. Your stomach.

You feel lighter than air.

With him, you feel as bright and as strong as diamonds. As timeless and luminescent as pearl.

As beautiful as gold.

When the door finally shuts behind you in a darkened apartment, you’ve entered a secret, separate realm of domesticity: mismatched shoes, coffee creamer flavors you don’t like, and shampoo bottles that take up too much space in your shower.

It’s quiet here, blue and shadowed. The girl who left here hours ago to get ready in a hotel halfway across town forgot to leave on a light, rushing out in her haste.

Behind you, you hear him snicker, his tongue behind his teeth, champagne bubbles still in his nose, as he hangs his silk jacket on your coat rack, right next to your muddy raincoat and baseball caps faded with sweat.

“We gotta be quiet,” he hums, wobbling a bit as he toes out of his expensive loafers, pushing them near your off-brand birkenstocks. “Nala’s gonna hate me forever if we wake her up now.”

He is, of course, referring to your tabby cat, who hates everyone who isn’t you, and has a distinct requirement for twelve hour naps with no interruptions. Dieter swears he’s going to wake up one morning with that cat flexing her claws against his throat.

It takes you a moment to recognize and comprehend how your lives have melted together, how extracting you from him and him from you would be akin to destructive alchemy, the process of deconstructing two things causing both of them to oxidize and reduce to flaky rust. You’re drunk and you’re a little dizzy and you’re swaying slightly because your feet hurt but you are too consumed by introspection on your own feelings, what it means to love something other than yourself, to do anything about it.

You’re so far gone from your own body you float, untethered and lost in thought, right up until the moment his arms come around your waist and he pulls you into his chest, like slipping on a beloved coat.

“I think I can buy you for a quarter at Coney Island,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck like he is reciting Neruda’s poetry. You stifle a smile, your hands gripping around his elbows, as he sways with you. He does this a lot; thinks one thing, then two, then three, and by the time it comes out of his mouth, it’s nonsensical to anyone not strapped into his train of thought.

“Try again, darling.” You stroke his cheek with your thumb, his chin tucked over your shoulder, ear pressed to yours. “I think you missed a couple of steps.”

Your voice is gummy even to your own ears, the endless drinks at the afterparty stitching your syllables and consonants together into some freakish creature. He’s slightly blurry in your eyes, his presence overwhelming all of your senses as they try to keep you upright.

He chuckles and presses his face into your neck in what you believe is an attempted kiss.

“I mean, you glow,” he admits quietly to your skin. The grin falls from your face when your heart constricts. “You fucking shined tonight and I couldn’t stop thinking how beautiful and sweet you looked. Sweetness I wanna lick up.” He chuckles again, this time through his nose, laughing at his own absurdity. “And then I remembered cotton candy is sweet too and you can buy cotton candy at Coney Island for a quarter and. . . I think I can buy you for a quarter at Coney Island.”

He scrapes the back of your neck with his teeth as he nudges you forward down the hall, not sparing an inch between your bodies. Which makes for a disastrous time, both of you drunk, his socked feet slipping on the wood, and your heels and dress tangling up together.

“Baby, wait–,”

“We’re almost to the bedroom, we can make it–,”

“Not if we break our necks first. Gimme a second, I’ll just–,”

You slide out of his grasp, inching down the wall and tucking up the truly insane amount of tulle they managed to stitch into your dress. You feel like you’ve been digging for five minutes before you find what you're looking for.

You stick your heel in the air and fiddle with the clasp around your ankle, drunk and working in near total darkness.

Dieter huffs and slides to the floor next to you. He watches you struggle for a minute, nearly swallowed up by the layers and layers of tulle, before he squeezes the air with his open hand.

“Gimme. We’ll be here all night.”

You pout visibly and awkwardly rotate until your foot is in his lap. His fingers are warm as he plucks at the clasp.

“I am perfectly capable of getting dressed on my own.” You toss your hair indignantly.

“Yeah, but you’re always going to need my help to get undressed, right?” He smirks, eyes bleary, as he slides the heel off your foot and takes up the other one when you don’t move.

Always, he said.

Forever.

He’s being so soft, so gentle.

He sees the red marks left behind by the straps of your heels and frowns, displeased. Slumped over in the hallway of your tiny, pathetic apartment, his top few buttons of his pressed dress shirt hopelessly gone, tonight’s bow tie slung around his neck like a tipsy snake, Dieter gives you a foot rub by way of kneading out your pain.

He kisses your ankle with such reverence, adoration, the liquid in your mouth vanishes and ends up in the crotch of your tights.

You’re both too drunk for an actual fuck (“don’t make fun of my whisky dick, baby, it makes it sad,”) but you don’t want to be anywhere else but in your bed with him when you do sober up. So, you let the tulle drop, Dieter giggling as he gets hit with an avalanche of dress and you both clamor over each other to stand up.

Towering over you and smelling like rich, warm, leather and splash of something spicy, he raises an eyebrow at you. You scrunch up your face, your twisted-up mouth betraying the stern look in your eyes, and put your knuckles to your hips. He matches your stance, this town ain’t big enough for the two of us . . .

“You’re in my way,” he grumbles, his mouth twitching.

“Maybe you’re in mine.”

“Well, then it looks like we’ve got on our hands a good ol’ Mexican standoff.”

“By all means, pardner, stick ‘em up.”

You eye him like PopEye, cheek full of nothing but air, your one eye all squinty. At that, he completely breaks, going red as he laughs. You hold the pose for a second longer before you collapse against him, laughing until tears run out of the corners of your eyes. You press your forehead into his chest, his heartbeat like a homing beacon, as he nuzzles the back of your head, giggles escaping occasionally on puffs of air.

“That’s it!” He says after a moment of silence and tosses his hands into the air. “I’ve had enough! I can’t do this anymore!”

Without warning, he bends down and hauls you over his shoulder. He continues his tirade over your brief gasp of surprise – “Dieter!” – his finger indignantly in the air as he marches off towards the bedroom.

“I can no longer date a girl who is funnier than me and so goddamn, fucking pretty. Who let you do that, huh? Who taught you how to be so fucking adorable? Answer me, you sexy, little weirdo.”

He tickles you enough just to make you squirm before dramatically tossing you onto the bed. You assume your best heart-broken divorcé pose, hand draped over your forehead, one leg tucked under the other.

“Think of the children, honey! Nala needs a father’s influence, a lonely girl trying to survive in a man’s world! You can’t shoulder me with the responsibility of single motherhood!” You sit up, eyes fluttering up at him. “Everything I learned, I learned it all from you!”

Smirking, he kneels onto the mattress, your body folding back as he hovers forward, his nose inches from yours. You fight the shiver that arches up your body every time he gets that look on his face. He’s got your sanity between his teeth. “That child loathes me, darling,” he purrs. “She’s better off with you. She looks far too much like the milkman to be mine anyway.”

Your fake gasp is buried beneath the lunge of his mouth over yours. His hand cups your cheek as his mouth seeks out all its favorite places against your lips, your skin, your jaw. Your fingers dig into his wrinkled, once-starched shirt, the heat of his skin pricking your fingertips.

It’s right there, that knife edge between starting something there’s no going back from, no alternative path that ends in anything other than him buried deep inside you, filth that still makes you blush pouring from his mouth into your ear. A part of you, the part of you that’s been stalking behind every smile and touch he sends your way all night, the part of you that every nerve sing for him, is begging you to continue. To touch him in the right places that make his eyelids drop, mouth wrench open, to take on the animal that’s gnawing at you both.

But you don’t. You can’t.

The simple fact of the matter is – you’re exhausted. You know he is too. The Oscar statue sitting on your entryway is a culmination of dozens of exhausted nights that finally paid off.

He sighs when you pull back, there is no anger on his face, no disappointment that you’re ending things here. There’s only . . .

“You looked really, really pretty tonight,” he confesses to your nose with a smile. “Thanks . . . for coming with me tonight. You make everything better.”

You tuck his hair over his ear, feeling whole and small beneath the gentle search of his gaze. His hair is getting long and you love it, but you don’t want to nag him about it. The universe has finally balanced itself with him in between your legs, the foundations that make up the galaxy all settled in right here.

He takes it one step further, reaching back behind him to the comforter you keep on the end of the bed that inevitably gets kicked to the floor every time he stays over. You’d pick it up and put it back every day of your life without complaint if it meant him in your bed until the end of time.

Dieter tosses the blanket over both of your heads and crawls back in between your legs, elbows tucked by your ribs. All the champagne in the world couldn’t give you this same warm, bubbly feeling in your chest as his weight sinks into you.

He’s submerged you both in another realm, a deeper one than the one before, and in this one you have to whisper, even though the only other person in all of existence is inches from your nose.

“You’re drunk,” you murmur, hushed. You can barely find the outline of his chin, his lips, his nose. The steady drum in your chest misses a beat as you consider where he might be looking on you.

He awkwardly tugs your knuckles from both hands beneath his head, kissing them gently before allowing them to quietly slide into his hair. He’s so warm, nearly completely invisible to you in the blackness, the weight of his broad chest threatens to choke the air right out of you. But this exactly is how you want it to be. You want to be overwhelmed by Dieter Bravo.

“I’m not drunk,” he tuts, a soft slur still tucking his words together.

You reach down just inches to his temple, following the lines of his body that swear all lead to you, to find the arch of his cheek. He closes his eyes, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings against your thumbs.

“Could a drunk person do this?” He asks quietly, as close as he could come to indignant in this special, dark little world.

You wait, for a sloppy kiss, for something hard to tap against your thigh, but nothing comes. In fact, he doesn’t move.

You inhale as best you can, grinning, ready to start another proverbial sparring match with him.

“You’re not doing anything, Dieter.”

His eyelashes stroke your thumbs again, a kitten lick, as he opens his eyes.

“I sent you my love. Did you not get it?”

All in the air in your lungs is purged in a heavy gasp as his words impact your chest the way comets collide with meteors.

He says your name, concerned by the wounded noise you just made, and when you don’t answer, he leans back, tugging the blanket as he goes.

It’s not until you’re looking up at him in your bedroom, his face blurry and your cheeks cold, that you realize you’re crying.

“Dolly, what did I do?” He sounds so concerned, so visibly shaken, you can’t help but cry harder. He only touches your wrist, as if he’d been banished from your body.

If you hadn’t had so much to drink, this wouldn’t be happening or at least you’d be able to get it to stop, reign in those explosive feelings that you had kept for so long deep and buried until he came along with a match in the dark.

You take a deep breath, eyes locked onto the ceiling, hands clenched in fists. You know he can feel the tension in your forearm beneath his thumb making circles inches below your pulsepoint. You thought you never, ever wanted to have this conversation, but now you understand this has been the only thing that’s been on your mind for months.

“You don’t mean that,” you croak into the darkness. You feel small and foolish, embarrassed for having a body that produces emotions.

“Don’t mean what, darling?” He’s still talking quietly, but firmer, providing a hook onto which you can grasp and fight the current in your mind. He knows this feeling, anxiety, and he hates how it looks on you.

“That you love me.”

Your words ring in the air, like the distinctive pitch of singing glass. You swallow that choking knot further down your throat and, wrenching your gaze down from the ceiling, finally look him in the eyes.

It’s the same look he blinked at you from the seats, there and gone so fast you partially convinced yourself you’d imagined it: profound, deep regret.

“You think I don’t love you?”

His tone makes you instantly feel guilty. Did you miss something? What if he texted it to you and you didn’t see it? Or wrote it in a note . . .

“You’ve never said it. At least not to me.”

And his face crumbles.

He slides off his haunches, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, his big shoulders curved.

Slowly, as if believing he has no right to, he touches your ankle, where he had rubbed away those painful marks in the hallway. He shakes his head, smirking darkly at himself.

“At the risk of sounding like a dramatic fucking actor, I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

You sit up, unable to help yourself from curling up next to him, his grip adjusting to your thigh, instantly finding the heat of it beneath all the tulle. Cutting right to the core of you.

He gets this furtive glance when he’s thinking about something unpleasant, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth, as though unable to choose the right course of action. How much does he say, how much does he give away?

He rubs your dress material between his fingers.

“I’m older than you,” is how he starts. When your mouth twists open, ready with a litany of reasons why you don’t care, why no one should – reasons you’ve already said to him a dozen times – he meets your gaze and silences everything in your head. “And it’s not me they’re going to come for.”

The weight, the finality to his voice shoves that knot right back up your throat, your eyes hot and tight.

“I . . . I didn’t say it, outloud, because then we’d have to do something about it. I don’t want to keep us in the dark, but . . .” he swallows as if choking too. “But after the dox two years ago and then the incident in Austin, I feel like I’ll be putting you in physical harm when they find out we’re together. And I would literally rather die than have anything happen to you.”

He kisses your temple, the touch a consolation.

You don’t want to turn away, you want every kiss he gives you, but all you can feel are the studio’s words, the words of your managers, pressing down on you:

You know how some fans get. For your safety, let’s give it two years.

We’re happy for you, we really are, but you can’t be seen together too much. Minimal instagram, rare public appearances. We’re just trying to keep up appearances until the fans settle.

Appearances.

Aesthetics.

Image.

You’d happily kill anyone who tried to take him from you.

But you know he’s right.

“It has nothing to do with how I feel about you, what I feel for you,” he promises, voice warm, dipped in honey. “I just . . . I can’t lose you.”

“Then can you say it just this once? Just to me?” You try to smile but the tightening of your skin only spills the tears. “Please, Dieter, I won’t ask again. I have to hear it once from you. After that, I promise I–,”

His great warm palm covets the back of your neck, rolling you into him like melting chocolate drips onto the floor. He stops, inches from your mouth, so close you can feel your neutrons mix with his.

“I love you.”

Earnest, genuine, real.

A green beanie and a yellow jacket.

Chinese food and dreams of a better life. Of a happy life.

You steady yourself, your spinning world, against his hand around your cheek, clutching onto his wrist like it’s the last great lighthouse at the end of the world.

You open your eyes and, yes, yes, there is adoration in his smile, in the way he watches his words soothe some ache inside of you with joy.

“I love you too,” you tell him, in case it wasn’t obvious. If somehow he couldn’t smell your obsession for him. “I love you,” you say again, firmly.

It’s an inevitable sort of fall, his mouth into yours.

Like neutron stars collapsing together, alone and quiet in the far reaches of space.

Like the stone bones of an ancient church cracking and tipping into the sea as time and erosion eats away at a once great monument.

Like the spinning metal within a compass, never failing to find north, to find home.

When you awake next to him the next morning, warm in a way that goes behind physical body heat, he kisses your nose.

I love you, he tells you, with his words, with his body. With the dozens of ways he’s been mulling over in his mind to keep you safe and make you his for everyone to see.

I love you, he tells you that morning.

And every morning after that.

#100 followers event #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble

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angelasscribbles · 22 days

Text

All That She Wants Chapter 2: Waylaid

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 827

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: sexual innuendo, infidelity

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake Walker was nothing if not predictable.

Every morning started with a protein shake, followed by a five-mile run. He worked out regularly in the gym with the rest of his unit, but on his days off he could be found poolside.

Swimming was good cardio and a nice way to change up his workout routine.

He pulled himself out of the water and headed for his towel.

“Looking good there, Walker.”

He froze, towel in one hand, water still dripping from his body. He’d know that voice anywhere. Struggling for composure, he forced his body to move. He toweled off quickly as he turned toward her. “Hey, Brooks. What are you doing out here in the middle of a workday?”

“Relaxing. I decided I needed a little me time, so I took it.”

His eyebrow arched as he tried to figure out why she was giving him a pass for the use of her maiden name. She usually reminded him promptly and imperiously that her name was Rys now.

As if he could forget that detail.

She held up a glass of iced tea with an inviting smile. “Want some?”

Shivers cascaded down his spine at the teasing lilt in her tone. His mouth went dry as he fought against every instinct that he had not to let his eyes wander over her body. He cleared his throat and glanced away before nodding. “Sure.”

“Well, come on then, sit.” She patted the outdoor chaise lounge next to her.

He sat down gingerly as he checked her out surreptitiously from his peripheral vision.

She was still just as beautiful as she had been all those years ago when he’d walked into that bar in New York. He had made his play for her during the engagement tour.

She had fucked him on a pool table and then gotten engaged to his best friend without so much as a conversation in between.

Riley gave him a scintillating smile as she handed him his own glass. Iced tea was a drink she had brought to the palace with her from America. Not that he was any stranger to it, being half Texan.

All of which begged the question, why did she have two glasses? He glanced around the pool area but saw no one else present. Was she waiting for someone? But if so, why offer the second glass to him?

Pushing his nerves, and his questions aside, he reached for the glass, his fingers brushing against hers, sending an electric jolt sparking through him. He dropped his eyes away from her as he muttered a barely audible, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she purred. “And what do I get in exchange?”

His head snapped up, his eyes frantically searching her face for clues about this new development.

Was she flirting with him?

The thought sent a thrill of excitement racing through him, chased by a wave of pure terror.

His feelings for her had never changed, but her feelings had always been, and remained, a complete mystery to him.

She was never rude to him. She was always polite. Quite often friendly. But never flirty. Not since that night in Paris.

Had that night meant anything to her? Or did she view it as a meaningless fling? He didn’t know, and he’d never asked.

His heart was pounding in his chest like a jackrabbit on Red Bull as he sat the untouched glass on the table next to him and then leaned toward her. “What do you want?”

She leaned forward as well, closing what little distance was left between them. Her head tipped back to peer up at him with a sparkle in her eyes that he had seen once before. His gaze dipped to her lips as her tongue darted out to moisten them, then darted back to her eyes as she whispered, “What if I said…. you?”

A million questions exploded through his brain. He knew he should ask why, or at least why now. It would be prudent to inquire what exactly she meant by him. His body? His heart? For an hour? Forever?

So many questions tumbled through him, but none of them found their way to the tip of his tongue.

The heat in her eyes gave the most immediate answers he needed. She wanted him, physically, right now.

Drake Walker was nothing if not predictable and perhaps the most predictable thing about him was his loyalty to Liam Rys. Which made his next move almost unthinkable, but the deepest desire of his heart was being dangled in front of him and he was taking it.

He was afraid any undue conversation might kill the unexpected opportunity that had just inexplicably opened up in front of him. Pushing his emotions deep down inside, something he was an expert at, he returned her seductive smile with one of his own as he stood and offered her his hand. “I’d say, what are we waiting for?”

#the royal romance #trr #drake walker #the royal romance fanfic #trr au #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Note

HELLO HONEY !!

i’d like to request a ghost x reader fic where he’s a college athlete and the reader is the coach’s daughter. he attracts a lot of attention (i wonder why) and is used to getting who he wants and is pleasantly surprised when the readers uninterested at first :)

Try (CollegeAU!Simon Riley x F!Reader)

Pairing: Simon Riley x F!Reader Category: Fluff & Angst Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes, Drinking, Smoking, Attempted Drugging, Referenced Assault, Violence Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your request! I apologize: I tried my best to understand rugby, but it's not really popular where I'm from. It's just a sport that I thought would fit Simon the best. I hope you enjoy!

(Minor spoiler: Simon is not the one who drugs your drink).

Image Source: Pexels

-> Ch. 2

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Simon rubbed the red mark on his cheek, his eyes lingering on the woman who was pulling her clothes back over her bare body.

“I just can't believe you, Simon,” she spat. Simon remained silent as he watched her grab her purse and stomp out of his dorm without another word. The door slammed with a loud thud as he remained clutching the blanket with one hand and cradling his cheek with the other. The welt stung, sending small ripples of pain through his face.

Simon grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot a few more times before planting his feet on the floor. He pulled out his phone and earbuds. Rugby practice was starting soon, and he couldn’t waste his time ruminating about a short fling.

Music blasted through his ears as he grabbed his duffel bag and walked towards the field. It was a blazing summer day, the sun beating down against his rugged body. He passed by a group of female students. They giggled and whispered as he nodded and waved towards them.

Getting a woman wasn't easy for Simon. Actually keeping them was the difficult part. All of the players eyed Simon as he walked into the locker rooms.

“What happened to you?” a foreign exchange student, nicknamed "König", gawked as Simon strode up to his locker. Simon patted his cheek, the welt still slightly swollen.

“Just a mishap,” he replied in a flat tone as he changed into his Jersey and shorts. Johnny, his roommate and teammate, peeked from beside the lockers.

“You sure it wasn’t a parting gift from that hen you’ve been seein?” he asked with a raised brow. Simon tensed at his words and harshly pulled out his boots. König and Johnny exchanged a knowing glance.

Simon sighed as he slipped his large footwear on. He tied his boots just as he heard the faint sound of a whistle blowing.

“C’mon. Practice is starting soon,” König said. Johnny followed after him, then Simon.

Despite him having incredible sex just before he came to practice, there was a tiny seed growing in his chest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it felt cold and made his heart feel like it was filling with lead. Simon tilted his head side to side as if shaking his own thoughts out. He scanned the field and the sharp sting in his chest quickly faded when he saw a young woman sitting in the stands.

Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, your clothes not too revealing but not too modest. You nibbled on the end of your pen as you stared down at your notebook, a textbook resting on your lap. You glanced up and locked eyes with him. Simon’s chest exploded with warmth, his pupils dilatating ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but swallow when he saw your lips part slightly.

The sound of a whistle screeched and broke his attention.

“Riley! Let’s focus!” Coach Price’s voice boomed. Simon huffed as he ripped his gaze from you and jogged towards the players doing warm ups. Everyone agreed that the new coach was something of a hard ass. Rumors have spread that he used to be a black op in the SAS. Simon wasn’t really one for gossip, so he shrugged it off.

Simon would peek over at you every so often, your beauty only making him sink further into desire. Johnny noticed this fairly quickly. He nudged Simon’s shoulder as they were doing a few warm-ups.

“I wouldn’t go after her if I were you,” Johnny said, his eyes full of worry. Simon laughed.

“What? She your bird or somethin'?” he asked. Before Johnny could reply, Coach Price blew the whistle again.

“Everybody line up in formation!” he bellowed. Simon bit the inside of his cheek as he stole another glance at you. You were still nose-deep in your homework. You yawned and stretched your arms above your head.

Another whistle blow.

“Riley!” Price barked. You looked up again, this time your lips forming into a small smile as he met your gaze. Simon felt even more determined when he played now, checking over his shoulder every now and then. Of course, this came with consequences, including several remarks from Price.

"In case you forgot your position: you're the fullback, Riley! Watch for your team!" the coach yelled at the top of his lungs. Simon saw you giggling before turning back to your book.

By the end of the training, he was worn out and covered in sweat, his tattooed arms flexing as he stretched himself on the bench.

“Hit your head too many times?” Johnny teased. Simon huffed as his eyes wandered back up to the stands where you still remained. Your hair was slightly frizzy from the late summer heat. You tucked a strand behind your ear before taking a drink of water. Judging from the expression you made, it was empty. You rose from your seat and started walking to the nearest water fountain. Simon took a huge swig of water before wiping his mouth.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Johnny’s mouth opened to call for him but he was already making his way up the metal steps. Simon actually felt his heart race as he approached you. You were filling up your water bottle as he pressed his hand against the wall.

“Scuse me,” he said. You turned around and blinked. A forced smile stretched across your face as he strolled up to you, his jersey clinging to his rugged, sweaty skin. Your beauty almost made him forget just why he came up there.

“Just wanted to introduce myself. The name’s Simon,” he said as he held his hand out. Your smile fell as you shook it, your palms soft compared to his.

“I thought it was Riley,” you quipped. He laughed.

"That's my last name. Just call me Simon," he grinned. You gave him a short nod before making your way back to the stands. Simon scrambled towards you.

“I haven’t seen you around practice before,” he commented as you two walked. You nodded, your face tight.

“I’ll probably just be around for this week,” you said with a slight edge to your voice. Simon tilted his head. There seemed to be something familiar about you. Maybe you were one of his classmates?

“Yeah? Why’s that?” he asked. Your lips pursed as you squeezed your bottle.

“My car’s the shop,” you explained, your nostrils flaring. Simon grunted, his eyes looking you up and down as both of you turned the corner.

“Sorry if this is sudden, but has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your smile is?” he drawled, his voice dropping a few octaves. You blinked and sighed.

“Listen, you seem like a somewhat decent guy, but I need to get back to my homework,” you stated matter-of-factly. Simon nearly choked on his spit. This is the first time in what felt like an eternity that a girl’s turned him down. His heart began to race as he watched you slip away.

“Bye,” you quickly said with a wave as you returned to your seat. Simon’s jaw clicked as he felt a bitter taste envelope his tongue. Eventually, he stopped staring at you and made his way back down to the field. Johnny’s face looked somewhat pale as he strode up towards him.

“What?” Simon snapped. Johnny pointed towards the stands. Simon’s eyes followed him. His throat grew tight as he saw you talking to Coach Price. The man’s arms were crossed as he nodded along to your words. It felt like lightning struck through him when Price’s head snapped towards him, his eyes narrowing and face turning bright red.

“Good luck, mate,” Johnny said as he roughly patted his shoulder. Simon scoffed as his roommate stepped back while Price approached them. Everyone watched, the entire field seeming to freeze. The coach came uncomfortably close to Simon as he snarled in a strained voice:

“My office. Now”.

+++

The next several minutes were filled with Price casting death glares at Simon as he ranted at him.

“Listen here, boy. I may be new, but I already know of your reputation here on campus," he began. Simon's face remained as neutral as possible as spit flew out of the man's mouth. "I’m not about to let my daughter become another one of your brazen hussies,” he growled as he shook his index finger at him. Simon felt his chest turn to stone as he watched the coach scowl.

“You are not to touch, speak, or even look at (Y/N),” Price ordered. Simon nodded quickly, his chest tightening as the man stared him down. The coach leaned forward, his palms pressed to the cold wood of the desk as he scowled.

“Mark my words, Riley. If I find out you’ve stuck your knob inside my daughter, I’ll cut it off and feed it to my fucking dogs,” he roared. Simon swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded.

“Same goes for the rest of you!” Price shouted as his head snapped towards his door. Whispers followed by several shuffling feet were heard outside the door. Simon’s blood ran cold as his shoulders tightened.

“Yes, sir. I understand,” he muttered. Price’s nostrils flared as he pointed out of his office.

“Good. Now, get out of my sight. And don't get distracted next time...or else,” he spat. Simon nodded before turning on his heel, quickly making his way down the hall. The locker room was silent when he stepped inside. Several eyes were locked on him as he walked towards the showers. Simon closed his eyes and sighed as the cold water rushed down his sweaty, rippling back. Thankfully, the locker room was nearly empty by the time he stepped out.

Johnny stood scrolling through his phone before looking up. He offered Simon a careful smile as they walked out of the building.

“Want to get some takeaway?” he asked. Simon remained silent, simply looking forwards as the world blurred around him.

Not only did you reject him, but the man who was your father happened to be one of the most terrifying people he’d ever met. A lump formed in his throat as he glanced down at his crotch, then back up at the sidewalk.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was the coach’s daughter?” Simon grumbled. Johnny shrugged.

“I tried to, but we had to start practice,” he explained. Simon ran a hand down his face. Frustration built inside him like boiling lava inside a volcano. He whipped out his phone, texting a girl he met a few weeks ago.

“Which one are you texting this time?” Johnny asked bluntly. Simon ignored him, instead sending her a message about a party this weekend. A friend of theirs, Kyle, was in a fraternity who was notorious for throwing massive raging keggers.

“Surprised you actually texted a girl back this time, Ghost,” Johnny quipped as he nudged his shoulder. Simon rolled his eyes.

“When the hell are you all goin' to drop that annoyin' nickname?” he grumbled. Johnny chuckled as they stepped through the doors to their dorm building. Simon happened to glance over to see you passing by in a black truck. Your eyes locked again briefly before you looked away. Price was in the driver’s seat, his eyes set on the road as he pulled away.

“Come on. I think a couple of pints is in order for the both of us,” Johnny said. Simon raised a brow.

“You no longer with Gabby?” he asked. Johnny’s bright smile seemed to falter.

“I dinnae ken. She said she ‘needs a break’,” the Scotsman said as he flexed his fingers with air quotes. Simon grunted.

“Alright-but you’re buyin’,” he stated. He didn't even try to hide his wry grin as Johnny scoffed and rambled at him.

+++

The next few practice's were brutal, to say the least. Every time he looked at you, Price demanded everyone to do one-hundred push ups. Simon was beginning to believe the rumor's about the coach's past.

“For fuck’s sake, man-just keep your eyes off of her!" one of the players gaped after a tiring practice. Simon ignored him as he changed into a fresh pair of clothes. His shorts hugged his muscular thighs nicely while his tank too stretched over his rugged upper body. Johnny came up beside him.

“You still goin’ to Kyle’s party tonight?” he asked. Simon nodded.

“Yeah, Tracy ditched me at the last second though,” he shrugged. Johnny patted his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a lovely lass who’ll gladly get into your pants…that is, if she hasn't already,” Johnny smirked. Simon punched his arm, causing the Scotsman to chuckle.

“What about you, big guy? You wanna come?” he asked as he turned towards König. Simon had absolutely no idea how this guy was human. He had to duck every time he walked through the door for crying out loud. König sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nein, it’s not really my scene,” he shrugged.

“Fair enough-just know the invitation is always open,” Johnny grinned. König nodded before slipping towards the showers. A 'thunk' sound reverberated across the room as König swore in German and rubbed his head.

Simon closed his locker door before padding out of the building. His eyes lit up when he saw you climbing into a black truck. He frowned when Coach Price’s cold, heavy gaze trailed over towards him. He glared at him before climbing into his vehicle and driving away. Simon sighed before making his way back to the dorm.

+++

Loud music thumped against the walls. Smoke hung in the air as several students bumped and grinded against each other. The lighting was dim inside the frat house as chaos erupted at every waking second. Simon sipped at his beer while Kyle rambled on and on about how obnoxious some of the new frat members were.

"And Graves-Christ, don't even get me started. He never stops talking about his precious Porsche back in the States. His old man got it for him as a present for his sixteenth birthday. Can you fuckin" believe that?!" he scoffed as he waved his hands wildly. The song changed during the one-sided conversation and that’s when Simon felt it: the cold, dark pit opening up inside his chest.

The feeling made his beer grow stale, music dull and the air thick and heavy. He brushed past Kyle as he made his way towards the back deck, ignoring his several questions. The people in the room seemed to slow down as he barraged his way through. He barely caught a glimpse of König.

"Bastard actually showed up," Simon thought. A blonde girl was sitting next to the Austrian, batting her lashes as she whispered something into his ear. His cheeks turned a bright red as he pulled his hoodie over his head.

Simon swung the door open and slammed it closed. He took a deep breath of the chilled night air. Crickets chirped as the muffled music inside swelled into a crescendo.

“Needed a break too, huh?” a familiar voice asked. Simon’s eyes flew open and landed on you. You were wearing ripped jeans and a black crop top, your body decorated with minimal amounts of jewelry. Even in the dim lighting, you looked ethereal.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. You turned your body towards him, the light from inside highlighting your features.

“Got any smokes?” you asked. Simon raised a brow and nodded.

“Yeah, but I forgot my lighter,” he said as he rummaged through his pocket. You snatched something from your jeans, pulling out a small, silver box. Simon grinned as he walked over, offering you a cig. You flicked the lighter on before taking it from his fingers. You turned as you sucked in a long drag, puffing out the smoke into the night. Your eyes lingered on his shocked face.

“What? I’m the daughter of a coach, not a pastor,” you retorted before taking another drag. The corners of Simon’s eyes crinkled as he remained near you. He slid his hands together as both of you stood silently, watching the water of the lake catching the light of the full moon.

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward the first time we met,” he sighed. You gave him an unreadable look before exhaling out a long trail of smoke.

“You’re fine,” you said. Simon turned towards you.

“No, really. I should've just-” he said as his eyes wandered around. You nudged his shoulder.

“I said it’s fine, Riley,” you huffed. His lips curled up as you both went back to staring at the lake.

“Did my dad tell you that he’d cut off your dick?” you asked bluntly. Simon nearly choked on his spit. You cocked a brow, already getting your answer just from his pale face. You shook your head and sighed. “Sorry, he can get a little intense,” a small pink blush made its way across your face. Simon nodded.

“A little?” he muttered and rolled his eyes. You snorted, a genuine, small grin etching across your face. You were soon laughing, your bubbly chuckles falling across the landscape and drowning out the music. Simon found himself chuckling along with you, his face hurting from how much he was smiling.

Despite all the women he's been with, this had to be the first where he felt something genuine stir inside his chest. It wasn’t the drunk feelings he got whenever he’d lie in the afterglow-it felt deeper, pouring and coursing through his entire body.

And he realized something as the smoke from your lips wafted towards him: he wanted to feel that genuine warmth every second of his waking life.

You put out the cigarette on the deck before wiping an amused tear from your eye.

“Thanks, Riley. I really needed that,” you smiled. Simon beamed.

“No problem. Just come to me if you need a laugh. I've gotta funny face, anyway,” he commented. You snorted and lightly punched his arm.

"Not that funny looking," you smirked. Simon pretended to be offended before both of you laughed again. His face grew hot as you looked up at him. Your face looked so serene as you parted your lips. Simon tilted his head when the words came out as a garbled mess.

“You feelin’ alright, kid?” he asked with knitted brows. Your eyelids began to droop as you nodded.

“Just…dizzy…” you slurred as you wobbled around. Simon’s eyes widened as your legs suddenly crumpled beneath you. He was quick to snatch you in his burly arms.

"(Y/N)?" he asked. You rolled your head around, your eyes glazed over as you continued to slur. His eyes flicked over to a red solo cup resting on the ledge of the deck. Heat rose inside his chest as he gritted his teeth. He laid your head down on the deck, keeping his hand beneath it.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” he asked, his heart sinking into his stomach. You gurgled weakly, eyes hazy and unfocused. “Fuck,” he hissed as he frantically looked around. A man seemed to be watching both of you from inside. He quickly ducked behind a group of women. Simon looked back down at you. His thumb stroked a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"Simon...'m scared," you sobbed quietly as your pupils became constricted.

"I know, hun. Just let me-" he remembered König sitting on the couch right next to the door. He looked back down at you.

“I’m going to get help. I’ll be at the door and I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?” he mumbled. You parted your lips, your head lolling to the side. Simon sprinted to his feet and wrenched the door open. König sputtered as Simon grabbed him from his chair, the woman shooting daggers at him. He led the giant man outside. König gasped when he saw your unconscious body.

“What happened?” he asked. Simon gripped his shoulders.

“I think (Y/N)‘s drink has been spiked,” he seethed. König’s face lost its color as you slurred out incoherently. Simon slid his car keys into König’s hand. “I need you to take her to the ER for me,” he said as he gripped his shoulders.

“What are you going to do?” König asked as he began to gently pick you up. Simon tightened his fist as he strode back into the crowd.

“I need to take care of something real quick,” he hissed. His head throbbed as he stomped and shoved his way through several people. Simon narrowed his eyes when he saw the familiar man rushing towards the side door. He gritted his teeth as he ran towards him. The man yelped as Simon landed a punch square across his cheek. Several women gasped and scattered as Simon pulled the man to his feet.

“Tell me what you put in (Y/N)‘s drink,” Simon growled as he shook the man’s collar. The dark-haired man spat in his face, blood and spit spraying across it.

“What drink, you arsehole?” he snarled back, though a small, knowing grin crept across his face.

“If you’re going to fight, then take it outside,” a frat member yelled towards him. Simon curled his fists in the man’s polo shirt.

“Gladly,” he said while tilting his head.

He dragged the man through the side door, punching him again across his other cheek. He watched in satisfaction as he fell to the ground, groaning while he cradled his face in his hands. Simon drove his large fist into the man’s chest, causing him to wheeze. He came down onto one knee, his voice sharp and acidic.

“Tell me what you put in her drink,” he said as he grabbed the man by his shaggy hair. The man winced. Simon gripped at it even harder. "I won't ask again," he warned. The man spat out another string of spit and blood.

"Fentanyl," he muttered. Simon's fists shook as he readied another blow.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Kyle gasped. Simon leaned his head towards him. Kyle stood with his mouth agape. Several people crowded and watched from behind. Simon glanced back down at the man. His face was covered in blood, his cheeks already swelling with bruises. The polo he grabbed him by was similar to the one Kyle wore.

“Ky-you gotta get this twat off of me! He's fuckin' delusional!” the man sputtered. Simon released his grip on the man. He fell back to the ground with a yelp. Kyle ran up to him.

“You alright, VP?” he asked. Simon frowned as he watched the man get picked up.

“I’ll be fine,” he glared at Simon. His eyes trailed down to see a piece of a plastic bag poking out of his back pocket.

“Wait,” Simon called as Kyle was escorting the man back into the house. Kyle scowled at him.

“I’m not waiting for anything, Riley. You nearly beat the shit out of our VP,” he spat. Simon stepped forward, causing the man to flinch.

“Check his back pocket, but don't touch anything if you find it” he ordered. Kyle twisted his lips while the Vice President released a laugh.

“Don't listen to this git, Garrick. He-“ Kyle's nostrils flared as he spun the man around and grabbed at his pocket. His eyes bulged when a bag filled with white, dusty powder slipped out. The Vice President’s face fell.

“That’s-That’s just for...personal use," he explained, his voice weak and shaky. Kyle’s brows furrowed as he threw the Vice President onto the lawn, his beaten and bruised body landing on top of the bag. The man hissed as he rose to his hands and knees.

Simon pulled out his phone and quickly texted König what you had consumed. Just as Simon put away his phone, the VP stood on his feet and swung his fist into his ribs. Simon groaned as he clutched his side, a dull ache reverberating across his skin.

“He’s getting away!” one of the women inside screamed. Simon grabbed his ribs, trying his best to run towards him. The Vice President was surprisingly quick, though. He looked back and smirked at Simon before suddenly running into a rough wall. He huffed as he fell back to the ground. Johnny stood with his hands on his hips, cocking a brow. The Vice President's bottom lips quivered.

"Please, you have to help me! These men are trying to frame me!" he begged as he clawed at Johnny's ankles. Johnny's shoulders bounced as he released a hearty laugh.

"Yeah? Then why are you running away?" he asked. The man's face grew pale as he was surrounded by the two men. Simon cracked his knuckles while Johnny leaned down. "Ever been to a rugby match?" Johnny grinned. The man whimpered.

+++

You blinked slowly, your eyes still somewhat unfocused. Price’s eyes became misty as he rose from his chair.

“Dad?” you asked with a hoarse voice.

“Pumpkin, thank God you’re alright,” the coach choked as he instantly rushed to your side. Your eyes were wide as he hugged you tightly.

“Dad, I-I’m so sorry. I tried to be careful like you taught me, but-“

“Hush, now. I’m so happy you’re safe,” he sniffed. Your eyelids fell as you silently cried, your father holding and rocking you gently. Simon watched from the doorway, his arms crossed.

After they taught the VP a lesson, they called the police. They promptly took the man into custody (though not without questioning his broken nose and several bruises). Simon had to ask to borrow Kyle’s car once they took the man away. He reluctantly agreed and yelled at Simon as he sped out of the parking lot. Relief washed over him when when the nurse said you'd be okay. König remained until he knew you were alright, trading Simon's keys for Kyle's. It was around one in the morning when Price showed up-his hair messy and face completely pale.

“Where’s my little girl?” he asked with a strained voice, his eyes weary and solemn. The men directed him to the front desk and a woman escorted all of them back.

Simon’s attention was snapped back to the present when someone clears their throat behind him. He turned. A woman wearing a police uniform cocked a brow at him.

“I’m detective Jones. Is this where Y/N is staying?” She asked. Simon nodded and let the man through. “Thanks,” Jones said in passing. Price pulled back, his hands squeezing your shoulders as the detective stepped into the room.

“Good afternoon, I’m detective Natalie Jones,” she said as she held out her hand. Price’s face grew stern as he shook Jone’s hand.

“John Price,” he said. Jones nodded.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask (Y/N) a few questions,” she said as she flipped open a dark notebook. Price squeezed your hand as his face hardened even more. “I understand your concerns of leaving her alone, sir, but I promise it won’t take more than fifteen minutes,” she explained. Price looked over at you.

“It’s okay, Dad,” you assured him weakly. He squeezed your hand again and sighed.

"I'll be right out in the hall if you need me," he said. You gave him a tired smile as he rose from his seat. Price nodded at the officer before walking into the hall.

Simon noticed the bags under his eyes. Jone's shut the door behind her as Price stood mere feet away from the young player. The sounds of doctors and patients, as well as various beeps, echoed in the stark hallways. The coach cleared his throat.

“Thank you for...helping (Y/N),” he said. Simon rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sure,” he replied. The two men shuffled awkwardly.

"Listen, I'm sorry I was kind of hard on you before," Price huffed. Simon raised a brow.

"Kind of?" he thought. Price bit the inside of his cheek as he placed his hands on his hips.

"It's just...(Y/N)'s all I have left. She's still my little girl to me, and I don't know if I'm ready to accept that she's become a woman," he sighed. Simon remained silent. Price leaned on the wall, staring into the closed door. "There's just so much out there that could hurt her, and I won't always be there to protect her," the coach's voice cracked as tears welled in his eyes.

Simon craned his neck and looked down at his feet. He slowly moved forward and hesitantly placed a hand on Price's shoulder. The coach flinched at the sudden contact, his eyes slightly red as he glanced over.

"Someone will always be there to protect her. She knows the entire bloody rugby team for Christ's sake," Simon said. Price's lips cracked into a miniscule smile.

"Right," the man sighed. Simon slid his hand from Price's tense shoulder. The door creaked open, followed by detective Jone's stepping out. Despite her composure, Simon could see the mist in her eyes.

"Mr. Riley, if it's alright I'd like to ask you a few questions as well," she said. Simon nodded.

"Alright," he said. She motioned for him to follow her. As he passed by your room, both of you exchanged glances. You gave him a bright, warm smile. He grinned back. Simon is a fullback-it's his job, after all.

Someone will always be there to protect her.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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@notthatfanfictionwriter

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maddipoof · 9 months

Text

yeah,,,, sad boy,,,,, anyway

I got this request in like february and then i lost it but it was on anon so i hope it finds whoever requested it even though i bet they don't remember, hey lovely! i LOVED your last post so i was wondering if i could submit a post? ive had this idea for awhile…. A JJ Maybank x kook!reader where JJ just keeps bringing up the fact that the reader and rafe used to have a fling and the reader just breaks down and asks JJ why he keeps bringing it up and JJ tells her its because he saw that Rafe still texts the reader and JJ like demands that the reader blocks Rafe. you can end it however you like! i just like a lot of angst lmao ❤️💋 It should be stated that i did get carried away and forgot a few things but I hope you enjoy <3 WC: 5k, not beta'd

“You’re staring.” You saw JJ looking at you from the other side of the small living room in the chateau. You’d been texting in your group chat with your friends from your old school, since some of them had switched to boarding schools and whatnot, but you caught him out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m not.”

“What are you doing then?”

“Admiring.”

You moved closer to the edge of the couch and made room for him. He jumped on next to you, nearly landing right on top of you. “You’re typing pretty fast. Who’re you talkin’ to?”

You learned in the last few months that you’d been together now that JJ was not the terribly jealous type in public. He was the first guy you’ve dated that understood that if you’re dating a hot girl, there’s no reason she should stop being a hot girl. If anything, he liked it more. He liked that everyone would look at you but you’d always be looking at him. The problem came whenever you took a second to look away. You both knew what it was like to feel insecure, like someone was leading you on for no reason, like there was no trust.

“Just my friends from school.”

“What about?”

“They’re trying to plan something next Saturday.”

He made a face you couldn’t see but you could feel it from his cheek moving on your shoulder. “What?”

When you looked at him he tried to take a neutral expression. “We’re going out Saturday.”

“I know.” Your voice didn’t match his. He sounded rough and salty, you were smooth and sweet. “That’s why I said ‘they’re’ trying to. My Saturdays are yours.”

“Good.” He pushed up to kiss you then went out to see what Pope and John B were doing outside.

Kiara had been watching from the kitchen with a curled lip and a raised brow, holding her cold bottle to her chest. She got you one before she came and sat where JJ had just been. “Possessive much?”

“It’s fine.” You dropped the sweetness and just sounded bored.

“You see him every Saturday?”

“I see him every day. And I guess that includes the days my friends I haven’t seen in 6 months are back in.” You shrugged and rolled your head to the back of the couch after taking a drink. “It’s fine.”

“Why don’t you tell him you want to see them?”

Another shrug, “He’ll ask why I want to go out with some Kooks when I can be with you guys.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She stood up like she was going to walk right out and tell him you’re going, but you pulled her back by the elbow. “What?”

“I’ll talk to him later.”

“Promise?”

You nodded and locked your pinky with hers before going outside.

***

As Saturday approached, your phone buzzed more and JJ got more…territorial. You put it back on do not disturb and set it down by your leg, the one he wasn’t next to, and went back to watching your feet dangle with the tide slowly rising and the wake of a boat every so often splashing your toes. Adding an occasional kick to watch the way it rippled. The sun was settling behind you like an over-ripe peach. Big and bleeding towards orange, it spilled into the water, sending little arcs of light swimming with every roll of water.

“Who’s going Saturday?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re friends are going out Saturday, which ones?”

“Oh, yeah. Um I don’t think you’d know most of them but like Sarah Cameron, maybe her brother, I don’t know though. Lizzie Callaghan, Riley, Jack. I forget who else.”

“You wanted to go out with Rafe Cameron?” It sounded ugly when he said it like that.

“I wanted to go out with my friends whether or not he was there. I told you I wasn’t going to go since we already made plans that day. It’s fine, we’re both happy with it, don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t seem very happy about it.” He pulled his legs up from the water and his heels left the almost grey old wood of the dock dark with salt water. He pulled his arms around his shins.You thought you’d get through without it being brought up, having spent another day together in the cut. He hated going to your house. Not that he hated your house, he hated how far it was from his, how it was further than distance, it was tax brackets away, worlds away.

“I haven’t seen them in a while, I’d like to see them soon. I have plans that day, they’ll be back. It’s fine.” Your posture went to shit after you grabbed your phone. Not that it was the best before, when you were looking at the water, but now your arms weren’t holding you up so your back was curled like a shell. Just to check the time and if Sarah or Kie texted you.

“Yeah, cus I’m sure you never get to see Rafe.”

“Jesus Christ, Jay. I told you that we went on 3 dates four years ago,” you slammed the face of your phone on the dock next to you, not the best idea. “He is in college in Massachusetts! So yes, we “dated” when I was 14, and we stayed friendly because his sister is one of my best friends.” You stood up and grabbed your bag on the way, he hardly even moved, just craned his neck and let his view of you be blurred by the sun behind you. “Yes, I would like to see him, but he, and all my other friends, will be here for the whole summer, there’s more than enough time for me to see them any other non-Saturday.”

“So you still talk?”

“Holy fuck.” You put a hand to your head and turned away for a second.

“I’m just saying like, you’re my girlfriend. It’s not impossible to think that maybe I don’t want you hanging around with that kind of asshole.”

“What is ‘that kind of asshole’?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I feel like I don’t.”

“I mean he was a classist prick to me and all my friends my whole life,” he finally stood up now, and moved so that he blocked the sun from your eyes.

“When he was fucking 12!”

“What about last year when he crashed me and John B’s party at the boneyard? You remember that right? You and him and all your little kooks came, flocking like fuckin– fucking vultures.”

“Fuck this,” you remembered that night, the two of them got into a fight over a keg, and yes Rafe did make some low blows about him being a pogue from the Cut, but that was a year ago, when he was still using and while he was drunk, he’s still accountable, but he’s not that person anymore.

You tried to get past him but he made a lame attempt at blocking your way. “I just want to go home, Jay. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You looked at him now and saw the way his face went from annoyed to apologetic.

“That’s ok, hey, that’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” He tried smoothing your hair back and letting his hand coast down to your neck but you moved away. “Just let me drive you home.”

“I don’t want– I’m fine, I’ll call Sarah. Just– Please.”

“Please what? I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to stop. I want this to stop.”

“I don– honey, what do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t even breathe around you like this. It’s– It’s suffocating, Jay. I love you, you know that. I don’t know why you can’t just believe it too.” He let you walk away after that. What more was there to say.

***Saturday***

Since you got together, the last 3 days have been the longest JJ’s gone without seeing you. He was laying on the pull out sofa backwards, his head dropped down over the foot of the bed, not caring that the mattress has sunk over the years and the black metal bar was digging into the back of his neck. He knew he shouldn’t let his pen go upside down, but he needed the distraction, he blew it down trying to fight the cloud from going up before it evaporated.

Kiara was cross legged on the other couch, tapping through her friends’ snap stories. She still had some of the people you went to school with added. “Hey J,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen Sarah’s story?”

“Why would I see Sarah’s story?”

“I don’t know. You want to?”

“Not really.” He flipped over so the front of his throat was on the bar and he let out a long groan before he fixed his position.

“She’s lookin awfully comfy up with Sarah.” He knew who she ment by “she.”

“Lemme see.”

“I’m not moving, you come here.”

He groaned again when he flipped off over the couch, like an old man.

Kie swiped it back to the beginning and he saw the progression of you and some other girls in the back of one of their brand new broncos. The roof was off and the next one was a boomerang of your big smiles and hair blowing wild. Then another of you all at lunch, the waiter must have taken it of you. Some of your food, then the sky with your hand pointing to a cloud and your voice saying “That one looks like a chameleon. I’m telling you, look at it.” “What are you talking about?” It sounded like Rafe but Sarah kept it pointed at the sky. “You’re looking at it wrong.” It panned down to you standing behind Rafe, taking him by the shoulders and turning him in the right direction. “That looks like a dog.” It ended with you slapping him on the arm.

The next story was Riley’s, Sarah’s cousin, after the few Kiara skipped through of just the restaurant, there was one of you and Sarah dancing in the street. It looked like it you were still just outside the restaurant, one with an overt theme of a European café. There was a street performer with his open guitar case in front of his stool, his instagram handle on a piece of cardboard tapped to the back of it. In the background, behind you two spinning each other around, it looked like Rafe threw some money in there and then said something to the busker. The next video was of Rafe playing a song that had you all laughing and spinning together. He looked away when he saw you turn your head to look at him.

He looked different than the last time he saw him, healthier, he lost that faraway look he used to have in his eyes. He looked good, and you looked like you liked it.

Kiara turned off her phone and shifted to look at him better. “Doesn’t matter.” She put her hand over his, “She’s just happy he’s doing better, that has nothing to do with how she feels about you.”

“I know that, I know. I just– fuck, I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, you fucked it up a little bit, but not ruined.”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“I don’t think she has it in her to hate anyone, especially you.”

***The Cameron House***

Your day ended with a backyard camp out just like you used to do as kids. After all the tents were set up and Riley and Sarah kicked the boys out, you made your 9 person tent into a 5 girl paradise. There was an honest fear in all of you that all your sunset lamps and starry night projectors would overwhelm even the industrial powerstrips, but Sarah assured you, as she plugged in the fourth fan, that it’d all be fine. It was like sitting in a sunset. Pinks and peaches and bubbly orange colors everywhere you looked. Fluffy duvets lined every inch of the floor and there was no escape from all the pillows. Memoryfoam, down, throw, body, king size, every kind of pillow you could imagine stolen from every room in the house. You were between Lizzie and Sarah with Riley and Wheezie across from you.

You always used to have a camp fire before you went back to your tents, and by the time you noticed that the sun was beginning to set from your captured sky in the tent, Rafe and the three other boys had gotten it started.

Lizzie was handing you everyother s’more she made, which really meant that she messed every other one up and gave it to you when she didn’t want it. You were on your second when Rafe noticed you looking cold and holding your hands in front of the fire and elbowed Sarah to go get you a sweater or something. She came back and apologized if it was the wrong size, it was Rafe’s that he grew out of 4 years ago and she never grew into length-wise. “Have another, have another.” Lizzie was trying to bring another s’more to your lips.

“I can’t, I’ll be sick if I have any more.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” You knew she was joking when she knocked her shoulder into yours.

“No, you’re the one trying to kill me.”

“Death by s’mores?”

“It’s an epidemic.” Wheezie said as she popped another perfectly goldened marshmallow into her mouth.

You gave Lizzie a look then moved to the bench at the side of the fire where the smoke wasn’t blowing. The only open seat was between Rafe and Jack. Let’s just hope that no one posts anything else tonight.

“Sick of the s’mores?” Jack asked you.

“Yeah, the perfect goop in the middle can only make the charred black shell on the outside worth it so many times before it’s just not.”

“Pull it off then,” Rafe suggested.

“And lose the exhilarating crunch? Never.”

Rafe shrugged, knowing you were just going to keep going in circles, just for fun, and reached over the arm of the bench to offer you something from the cooler. “Surprise me.”

“Close your eyes then.”

“Why?”

“It needs to be a real surprise. If I got something you don’t like you’d just have me put it away and get you something else. Where’s the surprise in that?”

“Hmph.” You closed your eyes and opened your hand to accept the can, the condensation was dripping into the place where your thumb meets your hand and whatever he gave you tasted like fizzy lemon and basil. You hummed trying to figure it out without opening your eyes, in the end you gave up and read the label anyway. “I’m not gonna get high off of this, right?”

“It’s CBD.”

“I don’t know what you’re giving me.”

“I gave you a seltzer.”

“With CBD.”

“Would you be making as big a deal as this if I gave you a beer or something?”

You shrugged and he went to take your can away and replace it with a corona. “Wooah, woah, woah, who said I was done with that?”

“You.”

“No. It was good.”

“Good.” He let go and you took another sip. You took another look around at the fire and everyone around it then brought one leg up to hug against yourself. “So how’ve you been?”

“I’m alright. You?”

“Better than I’ve been in a while.”

“That’s good, I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks…yeah.” He cracked open another can of seltzer, just a regular one. “So I hear you’re going out with that Maybank kid.”

“Don’t call him that, you know his name.”

“Sorry, JJ. How long?”

“A few months. 6 actually.”

“And he let you come out with me?”

“He didn’t let me. I dom’t need anyone to let me do anything.”

“I’m sorry, I just meant–”

“It’s fine, sorry. It’s fine.”

“Should I apologize to him?” He was looking at you but you were just looking at the fire, Jack had left you by then to put out a flaming marshmallow.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, being a dick to him for however long.”

“Probably.” You looked at him now and he looked sincere enough for you to want to continue the conversation.

“You know that I was really in a bad place then, right? Like using every chance I got, just being a dick and having no idea what I was doing?”

“I know. Doesn’t excuse it though.”

“I know that, I do. Which is why I want to apologize. And I’m not just gonna blame my dad either though, like I should have known better than to just regurgitate all the shit he was telling be about the Cut and pogues and whatever, all that shit that doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, I get that.” You turned so you could face him too, your leg was still up on the bench between you two.

“And I wanted to apologize to you too. I was a complete asshole to you that whole time too. I was so stupid and I shouldn’t have been messing with you when you were like 14.”

You took a deep breath before you said anything. You never really had any strong feelings about when you “dated” before, whenever you thought back to it you thought it was all just because you were young and didn’t know any better. Now that he’s saying this though, it just floods your memory of all the times he tried manipulating you into things you weren’t ready for. You never gave in and eventually he gave up and found some other girl that’d fall for the flash of an amex faster than a smile, but you never actually fell that hard to feel any overwhelming feelings about it. “Can I hug you?”

“Really?” Obviously not the reaction he was expecting.

“Mhm.” He leaned in and you rubbed one hand up and down his back a few times. “I forgive you.”

“For real?”

“You’re trying to be better, I believe it.”

***The Chateau***

“JJ, no!” Kiara tried to go after him before John B blocked his way out the front door.

Clearly, someone was posting more videos than you knew about. Kie and JJ were just watching baby sensory videos, the ones with the bouncing vegetables, when she got a post notification. “You wanna look at it?”

He shrugged for the thousandth time that night. “Sure.”

And there was the flaming marshmallow melting on the stone and one of them trying to stomp it out with their $50 flip flop… and you in the background, first with you looking into Rafe’s eyes. Next with your arms around him and his face turned into your neck. Whether he was talking or anything else meant nothing to JJ.

John B was enough to stop him even if he kept trying to push him out of the way. “The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

“She’s supposed to be with me, ok?” He was angry but they heard the hurt underneath. “She’s supposed to be with me and I keep– I keep fucking it up.” He beat a weak fist on John B’s chest before he took him into his arms.

“You didn’t. You didn’t. Listen, listen, hey,” JJ finally pulled back to let John B look at him. “We’ll have her over tomorrow, yeah? Have her over, you guys can talk and figure it out?” JJ was shaking his head. “What? What is it?”

“She doesn’t want me. I fucked it all up and she doesn’t want me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Kie, show him the thing.”

“What thing?”

“Jay, I don’t think–”

“Just show him the video.”

She went through it and showed John B, she pointed out you and Rafe. “See?” JJ was about to cry again, so John B pulled him back in like a little kid.

“We’ll have her over tomorrow.”

***The Cameron House***

The fire was dying out and you and Sarah were the last ones out. Everyone else was sleeping, or at least laying down in their tents.

“You’re still with JJ?”

“Mhm,” You nodded and took another sip from your sprite. “Actually, I don’t know. It’s been weird.”

“What do you mean?” She moved closer to your side.

“He didn’t want me coming, first because we had a date set, then because he’s still banged up about Rafe and the stuff he used to do. Also because of the 4 dates we went on when I was like 12.” She knew you meant 14, semantics. She hated those 4 weeks, they were miserable.

“But you still came?”

“Mhm, I haven’t seen him since Tuesday.”

“But–”

“He hates your brother.”

“He’s not the only one. But he’s gotten better.”

“I know he has, he apologized to me earlier tonight.”

“So he–”

“He want’s to apologize to JJ too. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just…”

“It’s ok, I get it.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to mess it up with him. It’s been going so well, and he’s so wonderful when he wants to be. He’s just…he’s everything and I love it but I just can’t stand it when he gets all weird about coming to my house, he never wants to meet any of you guys or come anywhere near figure 8. I don’t feel bad about what I have, and I don’t pity him for what he has, but I just wish it didn’t matter. Like I wish no one ever told him that he’s just a ‘dirt broke pogue’ or that he’s gonna end up like his dad. He could do so so much if he wanted and I just want him to know that. I don’t want anything to hold him back and I just want to give him the whole world and make him happy but I know he won’t take it,” She put an arm around you and rubbed your shoulder that was against her chest with her other hand. You hiccuped a sob before you realized it and took a breath to collect yourself. “I don’t know if he thinks he isn’t worth it, or he doesn’t deserve it because he isn’t worth it, but I– Fuckin christ, I just want him to be ok.” Your cry became a whine like a little kid’s that doesn’t know how to get their feelings out any other way. Sarah was holding you as close as she could and rocking you side to side as you tried to decide if it would be better to just let it all out now, or try to breathe again.

“You wanna go see him?”

“What?” You pulled back and wiped the few streaks of tears from her cheeks, you didn’t feel like you were worth crying for at the moment.

“Do you want to go see him?” She pulled the cuff of her sweater up to wipe over your cheeks then under your nose.

“What do you–Like right now?”

“Yes, come on,” she shook your shoulder just a bit. “We’ll take the car, go to his house.”

“Not his house. John B’s.”

“John B’s then. You want to?”

You let her pull you up from the bench and towards your shoes before you gave yourself a second to think about it.

***

The streets were nearly dead besides the few college kids speeding by you or a few pick up trucks on their way to work in the other direction.

You caught your face in the sideview mirror, tear stained and puffy but weirdly ethereal with the way the watery tracks sparkled in the street lights you were passing at lightning speed. You looked at yourself a little too hard before you realized how ridiculous this whole thing was.

“What the fuck are we doing?”

“What? No, no, hey, come on, don’t back out now!”

“Sarah, it’s past 2 am, this is just, god it’s so desperate.”

“I am not turning this car around.”

“I’ll jump out the window.”

“You will not!”

You looked back at where you came from, woods, long, straight, not worth the walk in any direction. “Fine.”

“Prepare yourself, we’ll be there in like 5 minutes.” With her driving, 5 became 2 and you were barely halfway though your imagined version of how this would go.

She parked but didn’t turn the car off yet. “The lights,” you hissed at her. “You’ll wake them up.”

“And who do you want to answer the door then?” She pulled the key out and went to the front door before you could get out of your seatbelt.

Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock

“Jesus christ, Sarah,” You pulled her arm down. “You want them to think we’re a SWAT team?”

****

They ran out of drinks 4 hours ago so Kie and John B were playing an embarrassing game of cup pong with some probably a little bit expired sprite they found at the back of the fridge. Pope was showing JJ a nature he hoped would be a good enough distraction, he was getting very invested in the baby elephant’s journey, which they thought was a good sign.

Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock

All their heads shot up from whatever they were doing, it could really be anyone. Too many people trying to find them, not enough with any boundaries or respect for their circadian rhythms.

John B took a step to the door, “Wait,” JJ said, “It could be Luke.” John B nodded and JJ went into the bathroom and locked the door.

Pope walked behind John B and nearly jumped out of his skin when another round of loud knocks came, followed by a harsh “Sarah!”

They looked at each other in confusion then opened the door.

You were there holding Sarah by the wrist, she had her fist raised to knock again, “Hi,” she said before she remembered to put his arm down. He stood to his full height and she was nothing short of stunned. I thought this was about me?! You rolled your still teary eyes and stepped forward just a little. “Can I see him?” you asked gently, knowing you were in no position to be making any demands.

“Do you really think–” –that’s a good idea, is what he was going to say in that careful tone, not wanting to hurt you or JJ, or over step on your relationship but still trying to protect his friend, doing too much at once.

“Yes.”

There was really no room for any more arguments, he stood back to the side to let you past and you went to the bathroom door. Two gentle knocks, “JJ, I– Can we– I–” you were half a second from turning back to Sarah, crying again saying ‘I can’t do it’ but he opened the door and pulled you inside; and maybe you shouldn’t have, but you grabbed both his hands, holding them in a way that his forearms were close against your chest, maybe the weight would calm your heart down.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He moved his hands to the sides of your neck, his thumbs in the space under your ear, just under your jaw. Your hands held his wrists instead. “I don’t want to fight, I saw you and Rafe and I fucking– I saw my whole life without you and I didn’t want it.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I don’t want you sorry, don’t be sorry.” You brushed his hair away from his sticky forehead, “I should have listened better, I should thought about what you wanted. I just want to give you everything and the feeling that I couldn’t even give you a Saturday, I–”

“It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have asked you to chose, I don’t want you to chose between my life or yours, ok? Pick yours everytime, don’t drag yourself down for me.”

“No, no. There’s no my life or your life. Not to me, right? There’s just ours.”

‘Our life.’

“I love you,” he had to say.

“I love you too, and I never want to do that again.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t want to not see you or hear from you for 3 days, and I don’t want to have to decipher your feelings, I want you to tell me the truth. Even if you think I won’t like it.”

“I can do that, I can do all of that.” He was trying to talk fast, the faster he talked the faster he could kiss you, kiss all the feelings he didn’t know how to tell you into you.

He moved in but you moved your head back before his lips reached yours, “Wait.”

“What? What is it?”

“I need to know that you’re not gonna do that again, I need to really know.”

“I promise, I promise you, babe, anything you want.”

“But how do I know you’ll keep it?”

“I mean it.” He took your hands again.

“But can you–”

“Every day, I’ll prove it every day.”

“You swear?”

“On my honor as a Pogue.”

“Hmm,” you leaned into his humor now that you knew he meant it.

“What? You doubt my honor?”

“Only a little.”

“Then I swear on John B’s life. If I ever ever make you feel like I don’t care about you or like you’re doing something wrong, I will personally deliver you his heart in my hand.”

“Ugh, so graphic!”

“How else will you know I mean it?”

You moved your hand up his arm and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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