#i never did finish that series. is it still coming out? i read the first two books and theyre fine but theyre teen books | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months

Text

Agent Peña

Summary: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Word Count: 5.3K (I'm surprised it's not longer, I could write a thesis about this vest)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no used of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) BOY OH BOY- unprotected p in v sex (be better pls), oral (m receiving), face fucking, mastrubation (f), big ole praise kink, creampie, cum play (ig??), soft dom!Javi (still being our consent king as always), Javi lifts reader up on the dresser and holds her hair, Javi's got a FILTHY mouth, THE VEST STAYS ON LADIES AND GENTS (gn)

A/N: ....Well.... Here we are. This idea has been rotting in the back of my brain for SO long, and I am finally ready to serve my time in horny jail 🫡 As y'all know, Javi's tac vest is deeply important to me, and it only feels right to support my namesake as such by sharing my deeply dirty thoughts of getting absolutely obliterated by this man in that stupid fucking vest. If you know me, no you DON'T, please do not make eye contact with me for the next 7-10 business days. 🤪

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Are you sure this is the last box?”

“Yes, Hermosa, I’m positive.”

“Well, that was your answer 3 boxes ago, Jav.”

You laughed to yourself, hauling what was supposedly the last cardboard box out of the back of Javi’s truck as you followed behind him into your new house. Your official move in day had finally come, and while you and Javi had been periodically transporting things from your apartment to the new house since it had been finished with construction, today was the last day on your lease, and the first day of your forever in your new home together. While you couldn't have been more excited to finally be in a real home of your own with Javi, you were much less excited about the 47 trips you had made in and out of the house, hauling boxes to and from Javi’s truck, and unpacking your entire existence into your new living space.

You let out a little grunt as you set down the box into the mountain-like pile that had accumulated in your living room, Javi sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You promise this was the last one?” You giggled, your voice oozing with sarcasm as you gave Javi a playful nudge while he held you in his grasp.

“Promise.” He laughed, giving you a squeeze, only making you squeal and squirm even more. “Hopefully unpacking shouldn’t take too long, I’ll start moving the heavier shit upstairs and in the garage, and I’ll come help you down here when I’m done.”

“What, are you saying I'm not strong enough to carry the heavy boxes? Rude.” You teased, spinning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised.

“You know that’s not what I’m trying to say, you dork.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at your utter lack of seriousness in response to his comment.

“I don’t know… Sure seems like it to me… I just don’t think that- HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP, STOP, YOU MEANIE!” You screeched, flapping your arms in hysterical laughter as Javi slung you over his shoulder, trapping you in the only way he’d figured out how to get you to stop with your never ending sass- tickling you until you were close to tears. “Fine, I- Javi! Stop! You win! You win! Let me go, you butt!”

“Did you just call me a butt?” He snorted, setting you back down on the ground, smirking at the goofy grin on your face as you tried to recompose yourself, post tickle torture.

“I would have come up with a better insult if I wasn’t close to almost peeing my pants.” You grumbled, sticking your tongue out at Javi, the two of you trying your best to keep from bursting into laughter again.

“Will you just go start unpacking, weirdo? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go break in the new bed.” He smirked, biting down on his lip, his eyes looking you up and down with a mischievous sparkle.

“Oooorrrrrr… We could just go break it in now and unpack later?” You shrugged, placing your hands on Javi’s chest, grabbing a fist full of the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt as you pressed up on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on his pouty lip.

“As much as I want to,” He paused, pressing his lips back into yours, feeling the smile of his smug grin, “If we go now, there’s no way all of this is ever getting unpacked.”

“Ugh, fine. You win again, Mr. Reasonable.” You frowned, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away to search through the endless sea of cardboard to sort where each box needed to go. You reached down, hoisting up one labeled “bedroom” and resting it on your hip, pointing to the scratchy scribbles of Javi’s handwriting. “Look! I’m already going to the bedroom, soooooo…”

“Osita…”

“Fine, fine. You better move those boxes fast. Rude to keep your wife waiting like this, ya know.”

“Will you please just go unpack, Hermosa?” He sighed, laughing and shaking his head, hiking up two boxes, heavy enough to make his biceps flex and the veins in his forearms incredibly noticeable. You could almost hear yourself audibly gulp as you watched him walk up the stairs, the muscles of his back flexing and straining deliciously against the gray cotton of his t-shirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” You muttered to yourself, in awe of your husband’s sheer broadness. So in awe, in fact, that you hadn’t even realized you had let your box slip from its place resting against your hip onto the living room floor, making you jump and startle yourself, scrambling to try and pick it back up in hopes that Javi hadn’t noticed.

“You okay, baby?” Javi shouted from halfway up the stairs, peeking his head over the railing to see what had happened.

“Yup, yup, totallyyyyy fine, all good, just going to unpack, nothing to see here.” You mumbled, darting down the hallway, eyes peeled in whatever direction was the exact opposite of Javi.

Oof. You better find a way to become the world’s fastest unpacker.

Thankfully, you and Javi seemed to make an unspoken pact to unpack in separate parts of the house to avoid distracting each other, Javi now working on organizing things in the garage while you worked on sorting all of the things that belonged in your master bedroom. Clothes and sheets had been easy to put away compared to all of the pots and pans you had unboxed in the kitchen before this, working your best to put things away as fast as you could with keeping the metal clashing and clanging to a minimum.

As you dragged the last box labeled “Master Bedroom” into your room from the hallway, you were curious what kind of contents could be inside, considering you’d put away all of yours and Javi’s clothes, and whatever bedding belonged in your room. You spun the box around to each side, looking for any more clues, until your last turn, where you found “Javi DEA” printed on the upper corner.

You paused for a moment, letting your fingers drum across the tattered cardboard, questioning whether or not you should leave it for Javi to deal with, or open it up for yourself. You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you internally debated, trying to rationalize with yourself before quite literally opening up a box into Javi’s past.

You had heard about the good, bad and ugly that had been Javi’s life in Colombia before returning home to Laredo, so you would be shocked to find something in this box that Javi really didn’t want you to see.

It’s not like there was anything he’d be trying to hide from you in there, right? Probably just a bunch of badges and paperwork, anyways.

With a little sigh and a shrug, you carefully ripped down the seam of the tape holding the box together, slowly lifting the cardboard flaps to reveal the contents inside. As you peeked into the box, you let out a little huff of relief to find out that your suspicions were correct- nothing but file folders, old badges and ancient coffee mugs with DEA symbols slapped across the front.

You began making your way through the box, sorting its contents into piles for Javi to go through once he was finished in the garage. Even though majority of the items inside the DEA box were less than thrilling (unless you had a thing for reading 50 page long contracts full of legal jargon), you did get a kick out of Javi’s old badges, giggling at his grumpy frown that seemed to be plastered across his face in every picture he took from the time he started, until he retired. What cracked you up even more was finding the badges from the first few years Javi must have started working for the DEA, still sporting his signature pout, but with a clean shaven baby face you had only had the pleasure of seeing from the photo albums of Javi's youth that his father, Chucho, had so lovingly offered to share with you.

You gave the picture a sweet smile before setting it down with the rest of the badges in the growing pile, mindlessly reaching back into the box to pull out what you assumed would be more file folders full of paperwork. Except this time, you felt your fingertips graze against what felt like tough and worn fabric, dragging your hand further along the cloth until hitting a patch of scratchy velcro, making you cock your head in confusion. You scooted yourself over closer to the box, peering under the few manilla folders left inside to spot an army green strap popping out from in between them.

Now very much intrigued, you dug your hand between the sea of papers, yanking on the mystery item to reveal a deep olive green vest, followed by a few crinkled pictures that must have been stuck inside it, gently fluttering to the floor in front of you. You set down the much heavier than expected vest to pick up one of the photos face down on the carpet, only to turn it over and feel your jaw practically drop to the floor and eyes bulge out of your skull. Because in that picture, was not just any photo of Javi from his time in Colombia, this was a photo of Javi, in the very vest that you had dug out from the bottom of his box.

And holy fuck did he look hot.

Frantically, you picked up another photo that had fallen to the floor, feeling your heart legitimately skip a beat to find it was another shot of him in the vest, his dark curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat soaking his skin and the light blue button down underneath it, hands resting on the hips of his dark gray khaki pants that left very little to the imagination. You flipped over one last picture, only to find the same, breathtaking visual of him in that damn vest, his biceps straining against the sweat-stained cotton of his army green shirt, the veins in his forearms prominently on display as he held the gun he was carrying pointed at the ground.

While you had never seen these photos, or even known about this mystery vest until today, there was a part of you that was glad you hadn’t- the way Javi looked suited up in that vest had your head reeling in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from, because Jesus Fucking Christ, it was the hottest goddamn thing you’d ever seen.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the three photos, each picture somehow looking better than the last every time you found a new detail to drink in that made Javi look even more delicious.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander even further than it already was, picturing what Javi would look like with it on now, the broadness of his shoulders filling out the vest even more than he would have the last time he wore it.

You were so entranced, so lost in ogling at how attractive Javi looked in the vest, that you hadn’t noticed the sound his familiar footsteps trudging down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom and watching you as you sat cross legged on the floor, hunched over the now nearly empty box.

“Hey, Hermosa, I’m almost all done in the garage if you wanna-” Javi’s voice quietly trailed off as his eyes wandered, looking at the items from inside the box spread across the floor, stopping at the long forgotten sight of his old tac vest propped up against the cardboard.

He couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, simply out of shock that you had even found the vest in the first place, considering he hadn’t even remembered it had been living inside a box that hadn’t been touched since it was shipped back to Laredo with the rest of his things post DEA.

“Where the hell’d you find this? I haven’t seen this thing in fucking years.” He chuckled, reaching down to pick up the well worn armor, letting his thumb run along the seams of the rough fabric as he held it up in front of him, blocking your blushing and bright red face from his view.

“It was uh- it was at the bottom of the box.” You gulped, trying not to stumble over your words, biting down on your tongue to try and keep your embarrassingly sheepish smirk at bay, Javi’s eyes now meeting yours as he lowered the vest from his view. He tilted his head in confusion at your clearly flustered state, reaching out his free hand to gently grab your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, his touch only making you more riled up.

“Hermosa, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m- yes, I’m- I’m fine, it’s stupid.” You muttered, making no attempts to cover up your clearly blatant lie, darting your eyes away from Javi and shifting your gaze to the floor to try and hide your hot, flushed face, embarrassed that you were this worked up from 3 old photos and a piece of police gear.

But unfortunately for you, Javi knew you like the back of his hand, and knew all too well when you weren’t telling him something that was on your mind.

Letting his hand slide up your arm and across your collarbone, he stopped at your chin, forcing your gaze back on him, giving you a smug shrug and raise of his eyebrows, silently waiting for your real response, the one he knew you were hiding behind your bashful facade.

“What’s going on, baby?”

With your eyes locked on his, thumb resting under your jaw, you had no choice but to swallow your own pride, the sweet dark brown of his glare coaxing your sheepish secret right out of you.

“There were- there were pictures of you in the vest in the box. You look- Jesus, Javi, you look really fucking hot.”

“That’s it?” He laughed, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, still feeling like he hadn’t quite gotten everything out of you.

“Well I was thinking... that uh- if- what-”

“What, baby? Talk to me, it’s okay.”

Oh, fuck me.

“Would you, um, would- would you put it on?”

“Put it on?” He chuckled, lifting up the vest, gesturing towards it.

“Mhhmmmm.” You nodded, letting your tongue run against your teeth before biting down on your bottom lip, feeling a rush of heat rapidly creeping through your body.

“Like, right now?”

“Like, right now.”

Realizing that you were completely serious about your request, Javi let out a playful scoff, running his hand over the back of his neck, almost as flustered by your ask as you were at the thought alone of seeing him in his vest.

“Really? I mean, uh- yeah, okay.” Working in a quick and determined silence, Javi began slipping the vest over his head, pulling it over his broad shoulders and unfastening the velcro sides before readjusting them, tugging the flaps tighter against his stomach to hold them in place, quietly grumbling to himself. “Used to be able to pull these a lot tighter…” He groaned, flattening the last strap against the velcro.

As his focused shifted from his vest to you, he couldn’t help but smirk at the dumbfounded look on your face- the image in front of you leaving you so completely stunned, you felt like you needed to wipe the corner of your mouth to make sure that there wasn’t any drool coming out of it. Your brain was so short circuited, at a loss to form any sort of coherent sentence, the best you could muster out was a low, shaky, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for tactical vests.” Javi grinned with a devilish look slowing spreading across his face, seeing the complete and utter mess you were becoming as he slowly stepped towards you, the looming image of his broad body in that fucking vest making your heart race and your palms sweat.

“Well, I- I didn’t, um, I didn’t-” You stammered, your breath trembling as you tried to respond, your brain going blank as you watched Javi approach you. Before you had a chance to even try to and concoct some sort of answer, Javi’s hand was back under your chin, fingers wrapped around your jaw with a much tighter and demanding presence than just a few moments ago, sensing the undeniable shift of palpable tension in the room.

“Didn’t what? Use your words, sweet girl.” He rasped, teasing you with his knowingly smug smirk, his words shooting straight to your core, making your stomach flip in anxious arousal.

You could feel your words bobbing in your throat as you swallowed, your tongue darting out of your parted mouth, desperate to taste Javi’s lips now barely ghosting yours, patiently waiting for your response, relishing in the needy mess he could sense you were quickly becoming.

“Didn’t realize it until I saw you in it. You look- fuck- you look so hot.” You whispered, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sucked at your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your neck as a ragged moan escaped your mouth. “Javi…”

“Not gonna give you what you want 'till you tell me. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” You could practically feel his satisfied smirk as his kisses worked their way down your neck towards your chest, each press of his lips taunting you, only making it harder and harder for any part of your brain to function.

“I wanna- fuck- I wanna suck your dick. Fuck, I need to taste you.” You whimpered, reaching out to run your hand across his vest, letting it trail from his chest, down to his stomach, your fingertips grazing his belt buckle before a firm grasp wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand in place and stopping it from traveling any further.

“Nuh-uh.” Javi tutted, rasping in your ear. “Be a good girl and ask first. Tell me how badly you need it.”

“Please, Javi. Fuck, please let me suck your dick, baby. Please.” You moaned, sounding more desperate than you had intended, but fuck, there was nothing you wanted to do more than drop to your knees and worship him in the most sinful way you could.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty when you beg for it. You need me that bad, Hermosa?” Javi grinned, feeling you nod your head frantically, the hand he was holding in his grasp reaching for below his belt. “Okay, baby, show me how bad you need me, huh?”

In an instant, you were dragging your hands down his vest, sinking to the ground as you frantically worked to undo his belt buckle, the quiet clang of the metal singing a song of sweet relief as you shuffled his pants down his legs before hooking your fingers around the elastic waistband of his boxers, tugging them down to meet his pants. pooling around his ankles. His cock sprung free as it was released, already painfully hard and weeping with precum as it slapped against his stomach, the sight alone making you lick your lips. You kissed the inside of his thighs, trailing your way up to his shaft in long, languid movements, dragging your tongue back and forth along the underside of his cock before sinking just his tip between your lips, swirling it in your mouth.

You had barely touched him, but you were already so worked up that what had started as just a wet patch in your underwear had now turned into the fabric becoming completely soaked in your slick, leaving your cunt aching and throbbing. With your mouth still sucking and flicking at his tip, you couldn’t help but let your hand snake down your front, sneaking between your skin and the waistband of your pants as it dipped into your underwear. You let your fingers slide through your folds, before sinking them into your heat, your hips instinctively grinding down on your hand to find any sort of temporary relief as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Looking up at him with batted lashes, you sunk your mouth deeper down on his length, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, watching his eyes go wide as you took the hand that had just been inside your pants back out to reveal the shiny slick covering your fingers, then wrapping them around his base, covering his shaft in your arousal.

It was taking everything in him just to say fuck it right then and there, to toss you onto the bed and fuck you until you were begging him to stop, but watching the way you worked around his cock so needily had him so stunned, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but let you work your magic.

“Jesus, fuck…” Javi muttered to himself, already feeling his balls beginning to tighten as your head bobbed along his dick, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils.

It wasn’t long before his hand was buried deep in your hair, his fingers cradling the back of your head as his hips began to buck towards your face, trying to hold himself back from full-on fucking your throat, until your fingers wrapped around the back of his thighs, bracing yourself as you gave Javi your silent nod of approval to keep going. Letting a low groan rumble in his chest, his second hand met the one already palming the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock as he thrust deeper into your throat, tears welling in your eyes and saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. His tip brushed against your gag reflex, making you dig your fingertips further and further into his skin.

“Oh fuck- this what you wanted, Quierda? To get on your knees and let me- shit, shit, shit- fuck that pretty little mouth of yours like the good girl you are?” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself together as he watched his length slide in and out of your mouth, tempted to let himself go and spill deep down your throat, watching his spend drip down your lips. But he knew he’d be kicking himself if he wasn’t finishing buried in the depths of your cunt, your warm, wet walls milking him of every last drop, clenching around him as you came.

That was enough to pull him back to his senses, guiding his dick out of your mouth, the two of you catching your breath as you wiped your hand with the back of your mouth in confusion, wondering what had made him back off so quickly.

“Javi, are you okay? Did I do something wr-oh!” You gasped, stumbling as Javi forcefully pulled you to your feet, manhandling you towards your dresser, your mouths becoming a mess of tangled tongues and teeth as your back bumped against the wooden edge. Javi’s hands were under your legs, grabbing you and hosting you up to sit on top of it, ripping your pants and underwear down off your hips and tossing them to the floor.

“I need to be inside you. Fuck, I need to feel you when I fuck you full of me.” He mewled, reaching down to stroke himself as he lined his dick up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds, coating it even more in your slick before sinking himself deep into your pussy, flushing his hips against you as his cock bumped against your cervix. Even though you were already soaking wet, you couldn’t help but whimper at the sweet sting of how full Javi’s stretch made you feel, gripping around the shoulder straps of his tac vest for dear life as he began to thrust in and out of you, already setting a punishing, desperate pace.

You wrapped your legs around the small of his back just under his vest, whimpering and moaning into his shoulder as your buried your face in the crook of his neck the lewd noises of muted moans and slapping skin filling the room as Javi punched into you, his cock splitting you open in the best way possible.

“Javi, oh fuck baby, fuck, you feel so good, oh shit-” You whined, your brain going blank, babbling between moans, already feeling a tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine while Javi’s hands gripped around your hips, holding you in place as he fucked into you hard and deep. Your cunt was starting to clench around his cock, pounding into that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars and screaming his name as you could feel yourself coming undone around him.

Rutting your hips against him, the hairs at his base rubbed your clit, the friction giving you just enough stimulation to send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a ferocious intensity, flooding every inch of your body with pleasure.

“That’s it. Give it to me, Hermosa. Fuck- cum all over me baby girl.” Javi hissed through gritted teeth, his words humming deep in his throat as he fucked you through your high, his hands holding you in place as you melted into him, your body going limp as you came. “You gonna give me another one, Querida? Be a good girl and give me one more before I fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days.”

You were so lost in your pleasure, you couldn’t find any words, simply nodding your head as you moaned into his neck, only starting to come to when you suddenly felt an emptiness in your cunt, Javi pulling out to scoot you off the dresser, guiding your feet to the floor as he turned you over, splaying your chest across the wooden surface and pinning your arms behind your back. Gently nudging your feet wider, you could feel his broad body looming over yours, his hot breath dancing across your neck as he nibbled at your ear.

“You still okay, Osita?”

“Mhmmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as Javi’s hands ran across your hips, feeling his hard length pressed against your ass, wiggling your bottom half against him, desperate for him to ease the emptiness between your legs again.

“Lemme hear you say it, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.” Javi grunted, now dragging his cock through your folds, teasing your dripping entrance, waiting painfully patiently for your response.

“I need it so bad, Javi, please, please baby.” You moaned, rolling your hips and pushing your ass back on him, doing anything to try and feel him inside you again.

“My needy girl. Shhhhh, it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.” Javi smirked, flushing his hips against your ass as he bottomed out inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

He slowly began thrusting in and out of you, dragging his cock along your heat, each stroke punching against your g-spot, so wet that you could hear each rut of his hips as he buried himself deeper and deeper into your hilt.

You were so blissed out, barely hanging by a thread as you felt heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, that you were resting your head against the dresser, closing your eyes as you felt yourself coming undone. That was until Javi’s firm grasp shifted from pinning your hands behind your back to sliding up your neck, resting his hand under your jaw and forcing your gaze into the mirror on top of your dresser.

Your eyes locked with Javi’s, the reflection of him in his vest towering behind you as he thrusted into you over and over, watching the brown pools of his eyes darken with lust as he watched you slowly begin to come undone under him.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you cum all over me.”

The image of him was all consuming- His wide shoulders spilling from the sides of the vest, his dark, damp curls sticking to his forehead from the sheen of his sweat that had begun to pool in his brow, the wrecked look painted across his face making you weaker and weaker as you could feel the heat creeping up your legs and through your core.

Reaching back, you grabbed on to the side of his vest, burying your fingers into the thick fabric for dear life as his pace began to quicken, his thrusts becoming faster and sloppier with each snaps of his hips as he felt your pussy fluttering around his length, watching you turn into a puddle below him.

“I know you’re close, baby. C’mon Hermosa, oh shit- give it to me.” Javi grunted, letting his hand drop from your jaw to snake down your body, the pads of his fingers circling your clit with just enough force to have you screaming his name, clenching your cunt around his cock as you came.

“Javi, Javi, oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” You babbled, your eyes practically rolling in the back of your head as Javi began to follow suit, rambling incoherently, chasing his own high.

“I know, baby, I know. Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, oh shit- I’m close, too. Oh, fuck me- Jesus Christ, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh-” With only a few more thrusts, Javi was spilling inside you, his spend pulsing against your walls as he milked himself of every drop he had, his body slumping over yours as your chests rose and fell in sync, trying to catch your breath.

Your legs trembled as the warm mix of your spend trailed down your thighs, only to be caught by his fingers, slowly dragging your combined arousal back up your skin before taking it and pushing it back into your entrance, languidly pulsing his digits in and out of your dripping hole, making a ragged moan fall from your lips as he nipped at your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point.

“Gonna keep you full of me all night, sweet girl, all fucking night.”

“Holy fuck…” You whined, finally catching your breath enough to speak before pushing yourself back up to stand, turning around to grab Javi’s face, pulling him in for an electric, passionate kiss before letting your hands rest on the worn army green of his vest, quietly laughing to yourself in disbelief. “Jesus fucking Christ, Javi.”

“You okay, Osita? Sorry if I got carried away, I just- fuck, seeing how worked up you were, I-”

“Javier Jesús Peña, you better not be apologizing to me for being the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that goddamn vest. I swear to God, I’m never letting you take that thing off. Well… On second thought, if you don’t take it off I don’t think I will ever be productive ever again because holy shit.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh to yourselves as Javi wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against the bare skin of your hips, looking out at the scattered sea of pants and underwear on the floor that had been quickly left behind during your horny antics.

“Well, if you let me take it off,” Javi grinned, pressing a chast kiss on your cheek and then peppering them towards your lips, “then we can go take a shower to clean up,” he paused again, feeling his smile against your mouth, “we can go break in the bed, and I can return your little favor from earlier since someone was too eager to get dicked down to let me.”

“Oh, shut up, can you blame me? Don’t have to ask me twice.” You giggled, raising a playful eyebrow at Javi. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“Of course, Hermosa. Anything.”

“Don’t you ever get rid of that fucking vest, Agent Peña.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

1K notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 6 months

Text

Illicit

Hello my loves! Welcome to the first part of our next mini series we've been working on behind the scenes. The next 2 parts are available immediately on Patreon now, but will be updated here in the next few weeks!

Patreon

Warnings- cheating ( WITH y/n), Asshole Harry, I hate everyone but her, old money/wealth, toxic relationship dynamic, harry is mean and will be mean but not to Y/N lmao, smut

WC- 2.4k

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

Harry had just finished cleaning himself of cum as his phone rang.

It was his girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, really, because this wasn’t a real relationship. Not in his mind, anyways.

“What?” His voice was a sharp whip, already annoyed that the post orgasm bliss had been interrupted by Katherine. Y/N was sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his thigh as fingers traced over his chest, absentminded circles pausing when she heard his attitude already. Her brow raised as he lifted the phone to show the name on the screen, making her nod, lips turning down. That irritated him further.

“When are you coming to get me?” A voice that pierced his ears made him close his eyes, a dull throb beginning to coast down his head. “Daddy said you’re coming to the event and you were going to pick me up!”

She was huffing like a child, not wanting to wait. Realistically, he would leave in 30 minutes. Y/N would stay curled up in his bed and wait for him to come home before he took her away to one of his family cabin’s with the rest of their friend group- the ones who knew of him and Y/N. He would spend the entire night trying to think of an excuse to get back to her early, and hoping Katherine wouldn’t throw a fit about not being able to come on this ‘business trip’.

“You live with your father. Could you have not shared a ride?” His tone was icy, something Y/N had never been the recipient of. Thank god, really. As sexy as it was to hear him talk like that to other people, it would definitely make her cry. The man was intense, even he knew that, but not everyone seemed to catch on.

“Hazza! Come on.” She whined. “He already left and stopped by the office. I’m getting ready now but we have to be early for the photos!” As if that was going to help her cause. It was like the girl had a handbook on how to say the wrong things.

Harry didn’t do those stupid step and repeats. While Katherine loved being the center of attention, it wasn’t something Harry desired. In actuality, he detested it. He hated paparazzi and had broken 2 cameras from having them in his face without a second glance. No aggression, the picture of calm with pure ice on his face as he did so. If they valued their possessions, they shouldn’t be shoving them in people’s way. That’s what he thought, at least.

“I’ll be there in an hour. I’m not doing those photos. I don’t care what you do. Now stop calling me when I'm in the middle of things. You know if I don’t answer once, wait for further instruction.” He paused. “And stop calling me that childish nickname. I don’t find it cute or endearing, it’s embarrassing. Goodbye.”

There was a sharp squeak as he hung up the phone and threw it to the ground, rolling Y/N around onto her back and sliding his still sticky cock back inside of her yet again. His annoyance was clear on his face, but it quickly melted away as her arms wrapped around him and her lips covered his face with soft coos, legs pulling him in deeper. Maybe she was a bit sore, maybe his last load was still dripping out of her messy hole, but she knew exactly how the man needed to express himself.

“I know.” Her silky voice wrapped around his tension and broke it down, slow thrusts inside of her quelling the bubbling irritation in his stomach and turning it into arousal. Y/N could read his stone cold features, knew what his eye twitch meant, the simple movement of a brow or the tiniest down or upturn of lip. This magnificent woman seemed to have him all figured out, and he felt like shit for having to leave and be seen with another woman. “I know, baby. Only a few more months.” Fingers stroked his hair back, guiding his lips to her own.

He kissed her back, eyes squeezing shut as he allowed himself to lose the anger that had developed by focusing on her. The heat of her cunt wrapped up tight around him, snug. Fitting him perfectly, just as it always had. Y/N was the one he had wanted to take to these things, but he had to wait. For once, his patience wasn’t being practiced.

The best thing in his life had to be hidden from most people, all because he had taken a stupid deal. He had to go out with the girl who thought she was going to be the next Mrs.Styles, while all he wanted to do was stay nestled in his luxury sheets with Y/N’s soft, supple body to worship.

It was all his fault, though.

He had always been ambitious. Ruthless, some may say, but he knew that to a degree he could be cruel to get what he wanted. That was how had been raised. His father had put that right into his head, doing anything for success, power, money… that’s how he ended up in this situation.

In order to secure the deal of a lifetime, he had agreed to date the man’s daughter. Maybe that sounded cruel, but he knew the intentions from the get go. The man was using his conventionally pretty, high society daughter to try and sweeten the deal- but he knew the true motivation. An attempt to get him into the family and continue having control of the company through his daughter’s supposed relationship with him. If only he had been smarter, if he had done more research. He would know he was sending a sacrificial lamb right into Harry’s awaiting lion jaws.

See, she had been no stranger to him. Katherine had been after him for quite a while. They were acquainted to a certain degree, running in similar circles and society dinners. The crush, more so the obsession she had with Harry had been no secret to anyone. She claimed to have been in love with him, but Harry knew what it truly was. A lust for money. An infatuation with the power he could secure her. She loved what Harry could represent for her, not only to secure place in the society she had been thrown into as she grew up- but to elevate it. She knew the score, knew what Harry’s ring could mean.

Katherine knew nothing of his true personality, his likes, his dislikes, his jokes. All of those things were reserved for the tiniest selection of people that she only knew of in passing. His real friends barely touched that superficial, vapid, bitter world. Katherine’s family was new money, looking to secure their place in society. Harry’s wealth went in decades, and it would most likely stay that way. Her vying for his attention didn’t shock him in the slightest.

The condition of dating Katherine for at least a year had been one he had wanted to scoff at, one he had wanted to tell Mr. Eugene Brant that it would be obvious what it was, but he was smart enough to bite his tongue and agree. Playing stupid was a superpower, letting him think he got one over on Harry and vastly overestimating his daughter’s appeal. One year of being toted around with her overly big smile and his signature scowl on his face hadn’t been an issue. It was something he would merely go through the motions of until the exact year was up and she would be out of his life.

At least, it hadn’t been until he met Y/N.

The first woman who had ever captured his heart and soul. Softened the edges of his razor sharp glare.

She hadn’t wanted to give him the time of day once she realized he had been flirting whilst not single. She hadn’t known the deceptive relationship and it hadn’t been her fault, but that didn’t mean Harry was going to leave well enough alone. Even after she had dumped her Shirley temple on his brand new pure cotton button up.

If anything, it made him want her more.

One thing about Harry? He was going to get what he wanted. He would bet anything on it. He was patient, stubborn, and fixated. Checking guest lists to see if she’d be in attendance to parties, see if she was going to hang out with his friend group, he was on the prowl to get her to talk again.

She had blocked his number already- he didn’t really have a chance to explain. He understood why, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up.

When he finally did have the shot to tell her the relationship was a hoax, she was still doubtful. Dubious looks sent his way as he had pulled them into a private room of the club they were at- one his father owned, funnily enough- his hand holding hers as he sat beside her to plead his case. He was strong and defiant, insisting that it was a means to an end and there was no clause saying he couldn’t date other people- but he would like to get to know her on a real level.

Against her better judgment, Y/N had fallen for the soft green eyes, the soft looking lips with the sharp cupid's bow and his even sharper tongue. Giving him one date was all he needed to get her on board.

Fidelity wasn’t a term in the contract he had signed. Stupid, stupid mistake on Brant’s part. A new money, no lawyer to look over, a hasty mistake that would most definitely come to bite him in the ass. Harry hadn’t honored fidelity in the slightest even before he met Y/N. Sex was an outlet for him, as was the gym, things that were pleasurable and stress relieving. He’d only slept with Katherine a handful of times, tapering that off when he saw it made her get more and more attached. She had obviously known Harry had a reputation and while the sex had been alright, there hadn’t been much to his benefit besides the fact that she swallowed his load.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to find willing participants.

Sex with Y/N had completely rocked his world. He thinks, in part, it was because they had a real connection. She made him wait, she made him work his way up to that if he wanted- and made him stop sex with anyone else. As if he had any interest in anyone else. Y/N had taken up the majority of his brain that wasn’t filled with revenue and contracts and contacts and emails. She was his escape.

The first time they had sex, Harry had fallen for her. There was no question in his mind. Despite being positive that he wouldn’t ever marry for love, Y/N had him questioning that. She had flipped his entire world view upside down, made him weak in the knees.

Y/N wasn’t in the public eye. Her family had some elite ties, but she was friends with a lot of the quietly wealthy people who didn’t feel the need to showcase it to everyone who looked with tacky labels and monograms. She’d gotten into one of the best schools, gotten her degree and continued her friendship with her roommates and best friends- who just happened to be the girlfriends of some of his best mates. The real ones. There were only a few single members of the groups, and Y/N had been the new blood that had people wondering. Harry had been interested immediately.

It was about 4 months into their relationship and everything still felt fantastic. Y/N knew more about Harry than anyone else ever could. She was the one with the key to the future, even if she didn’t know the exact depths his feelings went to.

“I don’t want to go.” His lips parted from hers. “I want to stay here… want to stay buried inside of you, want to feed you your chocolate and lick it from your tongue.” Inhaling his words, she moaned as his hips rolled and he found his home back at her most sensitive spot. He had spent hours finding it, claiming it, and he knew it was his. “Spent all week working… I just want my sweet Angel.”

Noses brushed against one another, Y/N’s bleary eyes opening up to look at his own. Hazy, dark green, hooded. She gently dragged her nails over his shoulder blades, arching up into him and pressed a bit harder on the skin to make him moan in surprise. “You have me, Harry.” She whispered. “You have me now. Leave with my traces on your cock… then come back and take more. We leave tomorrow… and you can hold me how you like. Kiss me. Our friends don’t care. They’ll keep our secret.” Even if it was forbidden, their tight knit group knew exactly what the relationship between Harry and Katherine really was- and none really liked her. They knew Y/N made him happy, softened him up, they’d all been rooting for this. Their safe space. The only ones who knew.

“She won’t ever have me.” He reassured. “I’m yours. I want your marks on me.” Breathing harder, his thrusts getting a bit more deep. “Make me bleed. C’mon, my sweet girl. Paid for those nails… give me what I want.” Her cunt quivered around his prick, making him smile. She pretended not to like that sort of thing, but she got them done specifically for this. To quench his thirst for pain, for marks. They loved it. “She’ll never have me like this. I’m yours.” He whimpered, the freak of the bed and their noises filling the room. “M’yours, baby. My sweet Angel… stay in my bed and wait for me. I’ll give you everything. Just wait for me.”

She would. She would wait for him, to be his fully, as long as it took.

1K notes · View notes

yourplasticlittlespastic · 7 days

Text

E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series - Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: Solid context, fluff but very much self-pleasure session with Benny bby +18, not raw but is going there

Notes: IT'S ALMOST TIMEEEEE Y'ALL, hours away really. Thank you again for reading and liking this story <3 it makes me feel so appreciated :')

WC: 6.4K I got carried away hehe

You didn't know how to stare at Lord Coxingworth at this very moment. He was so graceful in his movements, with his words and his pose and everything pointed in the right direction. Correction. To the proper direction.

With a glint of desperation, you saw how he started to confess, how his speech started and you felt so... frustrated. He will ask why you will say no to his proposal and what could you say? Benedict Bridgerton has searched all over me for his inspiration and still is not finished.

You blinked away and saw Lord Coxingworth with impatience. When can he be done? So you can flee and go three houses up and meet Benedict and finish whatever happened last night.

***

"Benedict" you whimpered at the force of the kiss

"Say it again, sweetheart" he mumbled seeing you with passion "Say you want the same"

You could not feel your body, your legs failed you and his grip on your waist was the only thing holding you up "I want the same"

"You do?" he purred and his nose brushed yours "You do?"

"Yes"

His eyes sparkled "No need to convince you"

"What are you calling this then?" you pointed at your extremely warm and suffocating embrace "hmmm?"

"I call it, finally" he smiled, and he kissed you, and you felt yourself sink.

The next time you opened your eyes, Benedict's hand was in the small of your back, and your body was flush against his, the thin fabric of your sleeping gown was the only thing separating you from his skin.

"How I've dreamed of this" he muttered against your lips "how many nights did I wish you were beside me"

"You are so silly, Ben" you cupped his cheek "So, so silly"

"Why is that?"

"You are here" you smiled "And I am here. Dreams do not often come alive and still, I am here"

"hmmm" he was an avalanche at your words as his head buried on your neck smelling the sweet scent of you. His teeth grazed your sensitive spot making you moan, his tongue traced every kind of form and shape and it made you agonizingly hot and needy.

He sucked the spot where your shoulder met your neck and he gripped you, pinned you against the wall. You have never met so much desire before, the way his body felt against yours was not enough.

"Ben, I can't take it anymore" you cried in a whisper and your hand cupped his cheek

"Tell me what you need" he breathed so harshly as he broke the safe heaven of your neck and he saw the pause in your beautiful framed eyes and it struck him.

He can take you right now, here in his studio. He has it so easy, that you already took your robe out of your delicate body so he could, in a swift motion, remove your sleeping gown. He can spread your legs and admire your womanhood, he can lock his mouth in your nipples and oh so kiss your ribcage while playing with you and, and, and...

But you stared at him with a flinch of hesitation. He is not stupid, he knows this is the first page you have opened in the book of lust and sex. Taking you here, getting your innocence on a night like this is far from what he wants. He knows that you can respond to his question and tell him what you need but is it really what you need? Hell, he is again thinking for you but no, this is a matter far more important to think.

"I know what you need and I know what you want" he whispered caressing her cheek "That is all I needed to hear"

Your eyes landed on your twisted neckline as your right shoulder remained visible "But-"

"I know" he chuckled and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, your chin, the tip of your nose, your forehead and his lips hovered at your ear "And it is going to be everything you dreamed of and more, my love. But perhaps tonight is not the night"

"You mean, after marriage?" you asked shyly

Benedict was fighting with the idea, his groin was fighting with the idea "If that is what you want... I-"

"No, I meant if you believe it is for the best"

"Of whom?" he felt the sweat on his nape

You shrugged "of us?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"I don't know" you huffed

"I know what you mean" he nodded, his honour and yours were hanging from a thread so so thin like your gown and then it hit him again if your innocence will be taken in some near future then he can do other things to you that do not require you losing it "and I know what we can do"

"What?" you begged in your soft voice

"Have fun before our nuptials"

***

"Miss Ashbourne?"

You blinked at Lord Coxingwworth and his waiting smile "My Lord?"

"As I was saying" he turned around to stare at your mother who was there and you didn't realize until now "I know a diamond when I see one and you shine so bright it was hardly a discovery" he kneeled and took your hand "Miss Ashbourne, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Your mother stood there and her expression was unreadable. She looked at Lord Coxingworth and then at you, her face was calm, no tears, no happiness and no excitement, it was what it should happen.

"My Lord" you stumbled upon the words "I... I..."

"I understand this is a surprise but" he turned to stare at your mother "I do believe Miss Ashbourne can give me an answer right now, can she not?"

"Of course, Lord Coxingworth," said your mother with a hint of disappointment and a hint of frustration aimed at you "This is such an honour, a blessing really and we are honoured, my dear are we not?"

You swallowed your pride and smiled "It is, indeed" and you khow he was going to take what you said as a yes so you launched forward that he almost lost his balance "But I am in such a complex situation that I must come clean to you, my Lord"

"Y/N-"

"You see" you interrupted your Mama "I am engaged" The words dribbled from your lips so fast that they were not even formed correctly

"Engaged?!"

"I know, I should have told you beforehand but it was a rather sudden engagement and-"

"Miss Ashbourne" Lord Coxingworth was standing at his feet once again and he looked... he looked embarrassed in all his splendour "Miss A-"

"I hoped to see you today to bring the news but your speech caught me off guard I couldn't stop you between such devoted words"

Your mother looked beyond furious but her modals did not falter

"I... to..." he stuttered "To who are you engaged? I thought you were not seeing someone else"

"As I said it was rather fast, yes" you inhaled "Mr. Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton"

"Dear Gentle Reader,

My oh my, this author has nothing more to say but ouch. A commotion happened just outside Ashbourne's residence at Old Burlington Street. The loud voices clearly woke everyone who was still dreaming and what a thing. Yours truly was not there -or if I was you will never know- but the story has not been dissimilar from person to person contrary to other gossips. This one stays the same.

Lord Coxingworth walked outside the residence and it was not with a new wife but with a rather sad irate face. He avoided his transportation only to knock, insistently, at Benedict Bridgerton's residence but he found no one apart from a poor housemaid who was shocked to her core at his insistent manner of talking with the second son.

This author is clear on something. He proposed and Miss Ashbourne has said no, that or another thing transpired. But let me be clear, this proposal started with the left foot and ended clearly with Miss Ashbourne dizzily stepping on his foot -again-.

***

You stared at Violet's eyes as she kindly scanned your face "I must say I can't imagine what your mother told you after this" She left Lady Whistledown and sighed "was she harsh, dear?"

"She hasn't spoken to me yet" you admitted with a slight pinch inside and you took your tea and saw the roaming body of Eloise in the back "Eloise you are making me dizzy"

"You are going to step on my foot too?"

"Eloise!" Violet reprimanded "Your dear friend is going through a hard time, can you be more sensible?"

You looked around at Hyacinth and Gregory who were curious about your situation but not meddling that much. You felt so uneased at the fact that you have left the Bridgertons -except one- in the shadows. They don't know that you are going to marry Benedict, they only know you said no to Lord Coxingworth.

"Was he untoward to you?" Violet asked

You shook your head, trust is strong with her as you considered her an exceptionally maternal woman "No, thank God. He was always proper and I only have good things to say about him"

"Then?" Eloise confusedly scrunched her nose "Why the negative?"

"I am sure she has her reasons" Francesca came back with an embroidery set "Don't you?"

"I do" you muttered but the truth had to come with Benedict in the room "Bu-"

"When you are ready, dear" Violet softly curved her lips "Now drink your tea it will calm you down"

It was no more than minutes when you heard some noise downstairs, you straightened on your chair and waited. The butler by the entrance to the room you six were stepped back. You frowned and your face contorted at the sight of Benedict, sweat around his temples, flushed, tired, his attire looked convoluted, his hand nested a bruise on the knuckles.

"Oh my!" Violet stood up and walked to him "Benedict what happened?"

Everyone except you interrogated him. Your logic made sure to merge the happenings.

"Bring water, and bandages" Violet commanded, tears in her eyes "My boy, what...?"

"Mother" he said and took Eloise as support, she guided him to the divan by the end of the room "I assure you I am fine, fatigued that is all"

"Have you quarrelled with someone?" Gregory asked

"Gregory, Hyacinth please go to your governess"

"B-"

"I am pleading you two" Violet was on the verge of tears "Please"

The children walked outside with the biggest of pouts and they both threw glances at Benedict but he didn't return any apart from seeing you there. He sneered a bit when Eloise touched his shoulder.

"What happened?" Violet demanded

"A quarrel indeed, mother"

"Of what sort?"

"I assure you, I am on my five senses, mother. Quite spirited actually" he said smiling, directed at you of course but you looked down “I am just bruised, you should have seen him”

Violet could not pop her eyes more “who?!”

Eloise sighed and walked to sit next to her brother who was clearly trying to control the pain of his wound "Lord Coxingworth..."

"Coxingworth?!" Violet was going to have a heart attack

"Mother, I know I have a lot to explain, and I promise I will. But can we save it for later?"

"Benedict! We certainly cannot”

“Or won’t?” He tried to smile but flinched as a maid tried to heal the wound “There is no need for that now, thank you” The maid bowed her head and left “Mother-“

Violet sat down and looked at you “I am so sorry Y/N… I was not expecting this at all” she heaved as she breathed “, especially with Lord Coxingworth in the middle of this” She stopped and looked at Benedict “Why Lord Coxingworth?” She questioned

“Yes, why him?” Eloise asked

Benedict looked at you and nodded and you nodded back, this was it.

You took a deep breath and stood up. Violet might have thought you were excusing yourself but her eyes turned to see how you walked forward at their private questioning circle.

“Mother” he tried to draw one of those pursed adorable smiles he knows his mother adores “I am going to marry, Miss Ashbourne”

Eloise Bridgerton not so subtly snorted with such a noise that drew everyone’s eyes towards the wall where Francesca stood straight, she giggled at her sister’s reaction. She stood so quiet all this time that everyone looked surprised at her presence.

“I’m sorry?” Eloise smiled in the only way she knew how to do, confused, perplexed and waiting for someone to say they were pulling her hair

Violet opened her mouth more than she could that her hands did not conceal the shock. Francesca walked closer and her embroidery set still hanging from her hands was long forgotten.

Eloise cleared her throat, a nervous trait she has and nodded with a smile on her face "So that is why we are here?"

You felt like your legs were going to fail you and sat down beside Benedict who shifted in his languid posture to give you space to do so “I know this must be a surprise, it is to us too”

You turned to look at him and he held your hand, the bruised hand, the one you knew had collided with Lord Coxingworth’s cheek, stomach?

“My dear…” Violet touched her chin, the shock not leaving her features for one moment and then she laughed and looked at Francesca who was now standing next to Eloise, looking at the floor with her hands behind her back, her eyes not meeting anyone, especially you “that is why you turned his proposal”

“To accept his” Francesca pointed with her gentle eyes at her brother “My…”

“God!” Eloise exclaimed and sneered and scrunched her face “You and you?!”

Violet chuckled and stood up, she walked to you took your hand and squeezed it, she kissed your forehead and then she kissed Benedict's.

"How?" Eloise's voice was loud "how?!”

“Eloise please” Violet pleaded “Is this not the thing we wanted?”

“But she’s… she is like a sister”

“Eloise!” Francesca caused alarm with her voice “That is not the appropriate way of treating your sister-in-law. Do you want to offend them in such a manner? Or are you just being insensitive again”

Violet waved. Her hands at the sisters “All alright there, let’s see” she turned around “Was Lord Coxingworth the one who started the quarrel?”

“Definitely,” Benedict said and grunted trying to sit straighter

“Good and who else was there?”

“Mostly every other nobleman from this ton”

“So this happened at the club?” She asked and knew the answer was yes “Well if I know something is that those husbands will return home and tell their wives”

“Or mistresses” Eloise finally spoke

“Then…” Violet continued “we shall keep our heads up”

“It is not a scandal” Francesca shrugged “She merely denied a proposal because she was already engaged, right?”

“Yes, very much engaged” Benedict nodded and squeezed your hand

You felt like the most fortunate girl in the world with the support of the Bridgertons, maybe Eloise’s falling quite behind but either way, you knew the rest of the clan would understand that whatever gossip flees from mouth to mouth has a good reason behind.

“My dear” Violet said “you must regain yourself, heal that hand of yours, go to your former bedroom and-“

“Refresh me, I know” Benedict stood up, gracefully placing a hand on your back “I must be back in a while”

His tender voice made you feel all kinds of things and you looked at him as he walked away leaving you again in the company of the women you considered family. Family. They will be real family now.

“There is so much to unfold here” Eloise said sitting down in front of you “Is it not?” She asked the others

“Well” Violet kindly said sitting next to her daughter “if I must say so myself I find this… not surprising at all yet surprising at a degree”

“That doesn’t make sense, mother”

Violet shrugged at Eloise and looked at you “I hope this day does not make you weary, Y/N. This is not the best way for you to start your engaged phase”

“I think I brought it upon myself”

Francesca arched a row “Why?”

You bit your cheek and realized you let yourself talk after so much silence “Well, it was quite confusing at first”

“I bet” Eloise nodded

“Let her talk”

“With Lord Coxingworth being extremely forward and Benedict and I…”

Kissing each other at the devil’s hour.

“Having so much time knowing each other” you continued “I don’t know how it happened but” you giggled “he said we started seeing each other in other colours”

Violet smiled and placed a hand over her heart, the way you saw her do a lot of times, but this was the first time it was directed at you.

Eloise nodded, she looked serious. “Hmmm”

“And true he was” you admitted “However with Lord Coxingworth things were accelerating”

“Why not put a stop and spare his feelings?”

Francesca seemed to growl at Eloise’s lack of understanding.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and shook your head “Benedict wanted time to think as well”

“I would understand that logic” Violet nodded “It is not a simple decision”

Francesca hummed and nodded with her usual quietness

Eloise sighed and rolled her eyes but the look in her eyes was a happy one and then she giggled and nodded a couple of times. “I can’t believe you like my brother”

“Do not speak ill of him” Violet reprimanded

“He is divine, a piece of heaven in earth” she blinked

“Funny” Francesca turned to you “I can’t believe you are my future sister in law"

“I can’t believe this is happening like so” you snorted

“Come here, dear” Violet stood up. She approached you and hugged you, not a tight hug, a comforting one. “All will be well, especially with a wedding coming. That is what must fill your mind and soul.”

***

Was it fear? You did not want to return to your place, alone and ready to be questioned by your mother but with a pinch of hostility. You took every second the Bridgertons offered you that day and when sunset came you prepared yourself for facing your parents.

You said farewell with Benedict by your side. The look on Violet’s face as she experienced for the first time you and Benedict together not as friends but as a couple, made you blush.

Nonetheless when you were ready to walk further to your street he changed the path to-

“Wait”

“Is there something bad?” He felt your resistance

“It is your house” you commented

“Yours too”

It melted you the ease with which he was already sharing things “but, that should be-“

He did not allow you to continue, he simply put a finger over your lips and smiled, he guided you further and opened the door to his house. The sunset painted its walls differently than during the night.

“This time we can pass the evening in…” he hummed “The tea room?”

“Is there going to be tea?”

He smirked and leaned to kiss your lips, the tip of his nose touched yours and he said.

"Maybe something stronger"

His fingers touched your jaw, your cheeks, the tip of your nose and when he reached your chin he tilted it up and kissed you once and pulled apart.

“Come on… fiancé”

The word made your heart beat so hard you were certain the whole London would hear it. He pulled the chair back for you to sit, he poured the amber liquid and handed you the glass. He did the same for himself, a few more drops to his, and sat in front of you.

“Good day?”

You laughed at the mockery “Yes splendid. Best day of my life”

“Leave that for the wedding night” he savoured the rim of the glass with brandy and sighed “All in all, are you alright?”

You smiled and nodded, the warmth in your chest was not because of the drink, nor the day. It was him.

He was smiling, he was not hiding his face, he was not ashamed of your situation and his hands were not shaking.

“I am tranquil now. The situation will die shortly I know”

“Exactly” he smiled “I knew you would come to that”

“Well, you do say you know me well, so who am I to say otherwise?”

He smiled and nodded “Would you like to rest here before you head to your place?”

“Can I just sleep here?” You heard your voice but didn’t remember how is that you articulated it. You listened to your childish complaint and looked up at Benedict’s face.

He leaned his head to the side and smirked “You’re making this harder every day”

“No I’m not”

“Yes you are”

“And?”

“You want me to explode”

“I do not want such a thing”

“You want me to have the most forbidden thoughts about you and because I still can’t act upon them you like the torturing”

“Are you saying I’m a wicked person? Me? After today and yesterday and the days before, are you accusing me of such a thing?

He snorted and looked down as he shook his head.

You stood up and walked to him, his eyes were still low but you were sure his eyes followed you as he saw your figure above.

“Then I am wicked” you naturally said “I won’t go to my house just yet an-“

“Don’t say anything else”

Your body was jolted with strength that the staircase almost felt like air. You tripped, yes, but you almost flew. Where? You saw his bedroom, decorated with the same wooden panels and furniture. The smell of sandalwood and books, his sketches spread in front of the bed that looks extremely plush.

"I know you say you are tranquil," he said taking the knob and closing the door, he turned to you "I still think you are somehow troubled"

You saw he walked to the windows, the greenery from afar quickly was blocked by the thick curtains making the room ten times darker than twilight time.

"Just a tad" you murmured

"I do not enjoy that," he said and started kicking his boots "One thing you should know about me is th-"

"I know everything about you" you tried to smile and he adorably returned it

"No, you don't"

You took the bait plain and simple. You kicked your shoes not caring if the force of the pulling would rip the ribbons around your ankles "Lies" you said coming forward and he sighed against the headboard "I do know you"

He smiled again and made a gesture with his fingers "Just a few things you are missing, Y/N"

You huffed as you sat down by the end of the bed, your dress was not ample enough to sit crisis cross so you opted for your legs by the side, a bit uncomfortable "Like?"

He inhaled "Like for example, I am utterly protective"

"As everyone man should be"

He rolled his eyes "I am not every man, I am Benedict and when I say I am protective is because I am" he scratched his temple "If you are unwell, so Am I. If you are the happiest so will I be... if you are troubled, well I do not like it"

"What happened with Lord Coxingworth?"

Benedict looked down at his already bandaged knuckles, you saw him sigh and look away. "It is not important, not now"

"Did he hit you too?"

He snorted and closed his eyes as he laughed, his head went back to the pillow and you heard him inhale deeply. "Yes of course, it was a quarrel"

"He left my house quite fast... I know he knocked her and..." you stopped

"And he went to the Club and found me. Tried to make me drop the proposal!"

"What?"

"Yes" he looked bewildered "The bullocks of that man" he snorted "he tried so hard to make me say he can have you" he waved his hand "He is a Lord, he can marry tomorrow without a problem but having you was not something I was going to allow him to have"

You opened your mouth "I-"

"And I am not referring to you as an object, I am saying that your soul, as much as it is yours, I want just a pinch of it too"

"You have more than a pinch, Benedict"

He smirked at your comment, his foot playfully tapping your forearm trying to pull you closer. You obeyed and slid closer but not that much.

"So... he was not pleased and he insulted you, me, and well, our families"

"But we are not even married yet!"

"Yes, I know" he looked at his hand "I tried to be diplomatic but-"

"I am sorry," you said "What a sore loser"

Benedict leaned forward and sat upright "I do not blame him, my dear. I would be the most horrible maniac sore loser this world will see, worse than Napoleon if I lose you"

You looked down and your eyes met his hand on top of the duvet and you took it "Thank you for fighting for my honour"

"I am telling you, I am protective" he touched the side of your head "There is another side of me you haven't seen and I am not being naughty"

You laughed "Try to say that again without sounding naughty"

"What I mean" he hummed and laughed "You have never seen a Benedict a la romance... and now that I have you as my.... pffff!" he smiled "My fiancé... that grows even stronger"

"And what do I do with such knowledge?"

"Just know, when things happen, I will be there"

"For?"

"Everything" he whispered and leaned closer and his lips were touching yours. "Everything you need, everything you desire you will have it"

"It is enough with having you" you confessed smelling his warm breath

"Let me give you the world" he purred and kissed you

Was he intending to do that? Because the world seemed to fit in his lips and he was, as he professed, giving it to you. You felt the capturing soft lips as they opened, the tip of his tongue touched yours and the moan he released made you shiver. His arms were strong as they enveloped you, the scent of sandalwood and a touch of brandy filled your nostrils and your heart.

You felt your world leaning and indeed you were. He went to lay on his back as you kept yourself so damned uncomfortable with your straight dress but alas you could at least move your lips. You enclosed his lips and he yours, he licked your lower lip and gently bit it, his hands moved down to your waist, his fingers pressing against the material.

You pulled apart and gasped for air, his chest rising and falling with the same rhythm, his lips wet and swollen, his eyes almost black.

"What is the matter?" he whispered

You huffed and sighed as your hands grasped the lower sides of your dress and pul-

"What are you doing?" he looked panicked...?

"Nothing of that sort, I cannot move with this" You pulled it just above your knees and felt free as you could now flex on the bed

"That..." his blue eyes wandered so deep, so deep he got lost. Your thighs showed your white stockings tightened with feminine ribbon-like garnets and the visible skin was the most tempting thing he had ever seen. "Come here" he turned around and brought you to the mattress, the view oh the view of you against his linen and duvet "Do you have any idea how many times I dreamed of you in my bed?"

"Many I imagine" You tried to joke and he laughed.

"Yes many and none compared to the reality" his fingertips caressed the side of your calf, the sensation tickled you and your feet wiggled as he kept going upwards.

"What are you doing?"

"Touching you, feeling you... memorizing every inch of your body"

Your breathing increased with his touches, his hand moved to your knee and gently passed to your thigh where he could graze ever so lightly your skin, soft "So soft" he muttered

"You're softer"

"I am not" he said, his lips brushing your nose "You are the softest one in here" His hand was now on the inner side of your thigh and you bit the inside of your lips "This is a first" he murmured and leaned closer and his lips were touching the base of your neck, the sensitive part where your collarbone begins and the kisses were making your skin turn red. Benedict frowns at the barrier under your dress skirt "What is this...?"

You so innocently tried to lift your head as he funnily stretched the skirt to look under it "what?"

"You wear pantaloons"

"Pantalettes!" You giggled "Men wear pantaloons, I happen to wear pantalettes"

"Why?" he snorted putting the skirt down as he stood between your legs

"Because..." you laughed "I like them and..." you saw the look he gave you "I know many don't wear a thing"

"Many? Most!"

"And I am not most" Your hands pulled the skirt higher so you could see the soft cream fabric covering your lower part, they are shorter than pantaloons usually reaching below the knee, these you wear reach inches down your womanhood "Is it a sin?"

"For me it is" he snorted "Once married you must not wear them"

"Bene-"

"Let yourself free, my love"

"Ben-"

"Let the air flow" he giggles and you hit his side with your leg "Ouch"

"See me as a Christmastide present"

His ears perked at that "Say what?"

"You unwrap it, don't you? You do so with excitement. You wonder what can it b-"

But Benedict grasped your waist and moved again above you, the movement pulled the rest of the skirt up all the way to the waistband of your goddamned pantalettes

"Now you are the best gift. I agree"

"I was not finished"

"Uhummm" he kissed your neck, his lips and tongue tasted the soft skin and he bit the juncture between the base and the collarbone. His hands were on your hips, his thumb gently pressing your belly and moving slowly up.

"Benedict" you called out to him

"What is the matter, darling?"

"Are you going to remove them?"

He pondered the question for a while "Shou-"

"I feel weird" you confessed and saw how he tried to stop touching your hips "No, not bad... I... feel clammy"

"Clammy?"

You shrugged "Muggy?" you certainly couldn't describe the feeling down there "Perhaps if you take this off and... and..."

"Do you touch yourself?"

What kind of question was that? You frowned "Eh?"

"I mean when I'm not there and you need a relief, do you touch yourself?"

Your cheeks felt hot and he saw them turn a shade of pink that was almost too adorable. "No...?"

"Is that a ques-"

"No, why would I?" You simply asked

Benedict's shoulder dropped, he saw your face and wondered why were you so left behind in that type of passion, especially when is private... well, not now anymore.

"To live" he stated, "To live, my love..." he grunted and turned around to land on your side and he propped his head on his hand "I'll guide you"

You nodded "alright"

"Alright" he sighed "Come closer"

You did it so your shoulder was touching his chest "Done"

"Now... take those bloody gloves away"

You giggled and saw the short white gloves hiding your palms, you did so and playfully threw them away.

Benedict pursed his lips with a soft smile "This was supposed to be the part I took a peak at you doing it but with those..." he mocked your voice "Pantalettes... you must do it underneath"

"Do what?"

"Just..." he held your right hand and placed it on your belly, the ruffled sound of the pulled skirt making the only noise inside his room "So this hand... goes under that"

"Is your hand coming with me?"

Benedict was cursing inside he was feeling the real pain of not being able to do more now. He swears he could feel some wetness on his member and the look you gave was not helping him more.

"You can do it by yourself, can't you?"

"Of course I can"

"Well then, show me" he whispered. His lips brushed your earlobe and he nipped the shell of your ear. "Let your hand explore under there, go on"

You took a breath and allowed your hand under the cotton. It is not the first time you have explored there you remember. It was a year or perhaps two but the curiosity was definitely covered by fear of touching something that might cause an issue. This time you were curious and your fingers moved slowly, the skin was smooth, and the particular wetness made you frown - a thing Benedict caught completely-

"That is you" he kissed your temple "And all that has the ability to give pleasure"

You kept tracing around and looked to your side catching Benedict close "I thought it was for breeding"

"Don't use that word" he ordered "It does serve to procreate but, there is something you will find down there, it is small, round, and feels like a button, do you feel it?" he saw the bulge of your hand underneath the pantalette

"Feels strange, it does feel round"

"Sometimes very well hidden if you ask me" he bit his tongue, his expertise in the female body should not be trailed by that tone "Touch it, do not push. Graze"

"Hmmm" You were sure you were failing; the sensation was not coming at all "mmm-"

"Remember that day" he said with a deep exhale "when you went with my family to see the spring coming to a bloom?"

"This season?"

"No, last"

"Yes, I remember"

"And you grabbed a rose so desperately and grazed the petal with your finger?"

"I wanted to catch its pigment"

"Graze the same way"

"Graze the same way" you repeated and tried, you really tried, his lips were on your temple, his breath was hot and the warmth was coming to the pit of your stomach. You finally did it and gasped at the sensation.

"There it is" he cooed staring deeply at your dazed eyes.

"Hmmm"

"Keep on going, love" he murmured

You could feel it now, the heat threatening to really make you explode. The thoughts, oh the thoughts were too much. How can your mind split into two? One part is here feeling Benedict's presence and smelling his masculine cologne. And another part is imagining what else is in store for you two with his hands gripping, with his kissing and nibbling. Nibbling.

"Oh" you softly moaned

"That's it" he encouraged you

The heat was there, it was about to come. The tension was rising and the knot was tightening. Your fingers kept their pace, the grazing was not enough anymore, it was becoming a pressured rub and you felt your chest rise with the intake of air and your eyes felt heavy. Rubbing became circling and that was it.

You squirmed and tightened yourself at the explosion of... of... sensations. The sounds from your mouth, the growl from your throat were so unladylike and you loved it. You felt your mind coming and going back to you. Your body was in control now as your chest rose and fell, your back arched and your legs stretched until the muscles ached.

"Oh" you finished the instant with a sudden chest heave and drowsiness owned you for a while that you blinked away seeing Benedict right there with a smile you know he only draws when success is in his mind "what was that?"

"An orgasm" he answered and kissed your cheek "Congratulations"

You laughed and quickly felt the wetness all over you, you previously said it felt clammy but this... this was flooded.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that" he shrugged "Maybe now, yes... but when I come into the picture I'll clean you up good"

"Why should I worry about it now?" you gulped and sat upright "If I can grab a towel and-"

"I was certainly not talking about using a towel" he outright smirked

"Benedict!"

"Yes, dear?"

"No!"

"What?"

"Don't you dare!"

He frowned, "Don't I dare what?" he adorably sat upright and rubbed his face "The things you do to me, woman"

"So..." you took your discarded gloves but didn't put them on "For you is the same? the orgasm?"

"More or less"

"And do you think about me when you do it?"

He stared at the ceiling and sighed "All the bloody time"

"All the bloody time?"

"Every minute, every second, every time"

"How many times a day?"

Benedict looked perplexed at the curiosity "None of your business, Miss Ashbourne"

"It is my business" you winced as you hopped to the floor "If I'm the centre of the illusion... do you rub too?"

"No, I stroke"

You grinned fiercely, the grin of someone who is not up to any good. You looked at your hand and innocently hummed "You know, Mr. Bridgerton..." you licked your palm and heard his gasp

"What are you-"

"Just a taste, just a small one"

Benedict was about to protest but the view was not allowing him to say anything. Why was he going to protest? No, he got a little devil in front of him.

"Can I get a hold?"

"Of what?"

"Of you!"

"N-no...!"

"Why?"

"Because we have plenty of time to do so" he said and watched your expression change "What is the matter?"

"Nothing" you shrugged "Let this stay in history as the day you decided to pleasure yourself one more day while thinking of me"

"Not fair"

"While I offered to make it true"

Benedict rubbed his face again with the thought of wanting you to mix your honey with his member and come undone in front of you but for the sake of the day, you have had a fairly lot of stress that he doesn't want to push you any further than he already did.

"You" he pointed, his arm straight to your playfully all-so-bratty expression "Will pay enormously"

"When?" you eagerly said

"I won't send you an invitation, just be ready because my love... I'll come"

Yes, literally and figuratively.

340 notes · View notes

mcu-coworkers · 11 months

Text

Enough for you

Summary: You realized that maybe Miguel isn't who you thought he was.

Word count:1k+

warnings: Sad reader, Sad Miguel:(

Tag list: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @munixumai @deputy-videogamer @blueberry-thrawn @neteyamsluvts @um-well @stinygirl009 @marcswife21 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @juleshadalittlelamb @taygrls @tanchosanke @chuckle-nuts

A/n: Hello everyone and welcome to part two of “you?” I will most positively be making a part three coming very soon! Thank you all for reading! (I listened to the sour album while��writing this series rough drafts)

Parts: One Two^ Three Four

Credits to the creator^

That night you cried yourself to sleep.

Partially because Miguel completely shot you down and partially because you left your friends and suit forever.

You couldn't bear to bring back the suit or go back to HQ knowing what you knew.

You could never face Miguel or any spider again.

You wanted to so desperately let it all go and forget.

But above all else there was a city that needed you and you’d always be there for them no matter what heartbreak comes your way.

In this moment, you wished you were as heartless as miguel.

Back at HQ Miguel was looking through endless security footage on all possible earths miles could have been on.

Truth was he needed a second pair of eyes.

“Lyla.” he barked out.

“Yes, boss.” she responded, appearing on his shoulder.

“Call y/n.” he said, pausing the footage to rub his eyes.

He could take advantage of this time to apologize.

“No can do.” she replied being short with him. To be fully honest Lyla had also had enough of his shit.

“What? Lyla it wasn't a question go get me Y/n. Now.” he said, not having the energy to deal with her jokes.

“No. Miguel, you don’t-” she tried again but he cut her off.

“Fine. I ‘ll go get her my fucking self.” he said swinging towards the door.

“She's gone, Miguel. And it's all your fault.” Lyla said behind him.

He froze,“What?” finding your watch and your suit he stopped thinking.

“She quit. Not just the spider society, she quit being a spider entirely. Because of what you said.” Lyla finished.

“ I didnt- I didnt mean it..” he said, clutching your suit in his hand.

“Well you said it anyway and it hurt her.” She responded, “And if I were her I‘d probably never come back too, she deserved better Miguel. Why did you lie?” she asked confused as to why he denied himself the chance of love.

“ I was angry I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t mean it.” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yeah well you sold it as far as keeping up an act goes.” she said, sighing.

Miguel could always fix his mistakes. This would be a first.

Sighing he stood straight and turned back to his desk.

Miguel had a decision to make, you or the fate of the multiverse.

It's like he said, there's no room for that kind of stuff for guys like him.

Once again he was right.

“Get Ben and Jess in here and have them start with earth 42.” he said, sounding more defeated than ever.

Still, he was clutching your suit as if you were still in it. Your scent lingering.

“Yes, boss.” was all Lyla could muster up at the moment.

Her artificial heart was breaking for the both of you. He was so close to telling you she could feel it.

It just wasn't his strongest moment.

Neither was this one as he took out his anger on the poor monitor that happened to be in his way.

Back at home you laid in bed trying to find the motivation to get back up but the truth was you didn't want to.

Everytime you tried to create a new suit you just heard Miguel's abusive words like it was the first time all over again.

And it just made you want to hide under the blankets forever.

Your spidey senses went off and then there came the portal.

You knew it wasn't Miguel, he could never.

“Hey webby? You alright in there?” you heard.

Peter.

Taking the covers off you came face to face with an exhausted Peter and a sleeping May Day.

“Heard what happened at HQ just wanted to check in if that's okay.” he added wondering if he could take a step closer.

“ I really screwed it up this time pete.” you said wiping the tears away for the millionth time.

God you felt pathetic.

“No way kid, that was all him. You know that right.” he said sitting next to you.

“ I should’ve been there. But even if I was, I don't know if I‘d be on his side. Miles is just a kid, We’ve all been there right?” you asked. Thinking this way makes you feel guilty.

You should stand behind Miguel at all times.

But now what did it matter you’d never step foot in HQ ever again anyways.

“You're allowed to think whatever you want. He can't take that from you.” Peter reassured me.

He was right.

“You think you’ll ever come back?” he asked, he almost entirely knew the answer but he still held out hope for you.

“ I don't think so Pete, I‘m sorry.” you said looking down in shame.

The reality was you could never face him again.

“Don’t be I wouldn't stand for that either I ‘m pretty sure a lot of us are done for too anyways but listen, you’re never going to be alone.” he said putting a hand on your shoulder.

“If you ever decide to come back not just as spider woman, but to the society, just know you have people in your corner.” he said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thanks pete.” you said as he stood opening a portal.

“Hey pete?” you called out.

Turning back to you he waited for you to continue.

“Don’t ever stop sending me Pictures of May Day. I need my daily serotonin boost.” you said with a soft smile earning yourself a chuckle in return.

“Never kid.” he said as he walked his way into the portal.

A soon as he was gone you went back under the covers and took a deep breath.

Peeking your head out from under the cover you looked at the picture you had framed on your wall.

It was of you receiving the key to the city.

Your city, the one you saved day and night.

Whenever it called for you.

You earned that key the same way you earned the title of spider-woman.

And you weren’t gonna let some words take that from you.

Wiping the fresh tears away you got out of bed putting Miguel's words in the back of your head and got to designing.

You were bigger than his words and you’d prove it.

In that moment you promised you’d make him regret ever making you feel like you’re not good enough.

One day he’s gonna feel sorry for himself.

And one day you’ll be everything to somebody else.

And he’ll be the one who's crying.

Yeah, one day.

*If you’d like to be added to the tagslist just let me know I am more than happy to :)

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #Miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spider-man 2099 #marvel #Oscar Isaac

2K notes · View notes

ja3honey · 7 months

Text

♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬 ♡

Day 31 : Trick Or Teat

【Synopsis】 : The dead of night, creatures hide. In the light of a fire, those same creatures can become more.

『Word count』 : 7.01k

-> Genre: Supernatural. Smut. Angst. Fluff.

Paring: Yungi x Reader | Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual ot8 x Reader]

[Warnings] : Self hatred. Abusive family. toxic family. Cult-like religon. Myths and supernatural concepts. The reader is giving off Genderfluid in some parts [not me projecting whoops]. hints of sexual abuse. Blood. Gore. Dark themes. Blood drinking. Kissing. Swearing. All the boys have a corruption kink cause why not. Fingering. Seonghw has a bit of a superiority complex. Details of torture and killing people. Unprotected sex. Yunho and Mingi are little shits. Eheh

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Surprise!! This is the very first chapter and introduction to my new mini series I'll be writing. I know a lot of you have been wanting Vampire Ateez ot8x reader for a while, and I've been trying to find a good story, and i finally got one, hehe. Also, I wanted to make this fic extra long as well to say thank you for 4k followers. I still want to do an event, but I'm taking a little break first, so I hope this is okay for now.

I LOVE YOU ALL ♡♡♡

Check out the mini series masterlist -> [coming soon]

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Part Two

The Destiny Castle was filled with darkness and death. Guard dogs, the size of cows and strange beastly noises echoing in the forest surrounding. And warnings to anyone that enters the ground will never be seen again. Well, that's what the priest of your village says over time and time again. Blabbering about how god left the family that lived in the castle many centuries ago when they invited night-crawling creatures inside. Ones that drink blood and care little for the human race.

Vampires.

You sighed under your breath for the fifth or sixth time this evening as the sermon read on the large dusted book in front of him. Your hands were beginning to ache from having them clasped together for so long. Why were you even praying? It's not like you believe any of this bullshit. Yes, granted, some of it might sound true, and you had doubts on multiple occasions whether this man in the sky was, in fact, real or not. But did you really want to stick around and find out? When you die and you go to hell, so be it. You weren't scared of where you ended up. You were more scared of wasting your life away. Not finding the adventure you so desperately craved. But your picture-perfect parents with their picture-perfect kids shall have no such dreams. No such idea of living other than to tend to the market stall and be married to yet another picture-perfect family.

You felt your mother's god-awful stare as she clearly heard you sigh yet again. You hated her the most. Always finding new and improved ways to punish you for "your sins." Like rolling your eyes or talking back to a man. Or worse, not showing any signs of being a good future housewife so when she's finally ready to sell you off—oh I'm sorry, give you away—to some rich Christian suitor to be your husband. You could be the perfect version of yourself for her.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

You hated that fucking word. A loud bell chime caught your attention, signalling that Sept was finished with his blabberings for the evening. So you stood up straight, your annoyingly over-layered dress before turning on your heels to leave.

"Oh wait, Dove. Come here, please." Your mother's overfaked and sugary sweet tone rattled in your ears. The use of the nickname Dove also annoyed you. Dove, meaning white pure bird that is trapped in a golden cage. Everyone had called you that since you were born, most people in the village not even knowing your real name, only know this nickname.

Why, you may ask?

Simple, your mother hated your name. You were named after your father's mother, who she hated. But it was tradition to name your firstborn after the father's mother, so here you were. Not only were you a disappointment to your mother, but you also bore a name that resembles hatred. Lucky you.

"This is Lucas Wheeler. He's Mary and Robert's Eldest son." Your mother's voice buttered up the introduction, leaning in with an absolutely disturbingly fake smile that everyone seemed to fall for. You turned your lip slightly, making a poor attempt to smile, which your mother did not approve of. "Luca, darling, this is my daughter."

His grin was wide and overexaggerated. His tunic was buttoned all the way up to his Adams apple, looking as if it was constricting his airflow. And his hair was perfectly brushed back. He was the definition of a good pure religious boy. A book nerd. You couldn't hide your disgust as he licked his lips, eyeing you like some piece of flesh. You knew what he was hiding. That filthy lust that men seemed to only be forgiven for. He has probably dreamed about shoving his cock in every woman that passes him and he was definitely only thinking about his needs while staring at you. Not marriage, not husband duty. No, the sole idea of finally getting his little dick wet was driving him crazy. And it made you want to chuck your guts up all over his clean shoes.

"You seem to have such a um, polite daughter here, Christine. She seems shy?" Lucas's mother, Mary spoke up trying to take a look at you but you kept your face pointed to the ground. You didn’t want to be there and you weren't about to fake a smile for a family you did not need to know. you wanted nothing more than to slip away and become invisible like you always did in these types of situations. But turning twenty has now made you in the public eye. Twenty and without a husband was rare. Normally women in your village were betrothed at sixteen and married at eighteen. But you have managed to wheezle your way out of it from your parents being too worried about your younger sisters. But you’ll be twenty-one soon and your mother, Christine was becoming impatient.

“She is a shy one. Sweet too. Micheal and I have been trying to find the perfect man for her, but her shyness seems to not be a lucky charm.” Your mother battered, throwing a sweet chuckle making Lucas’s parents laugh.

“Well, how about you both come over? Bring all your kids, for dinner. I’m sure my Luca would love to get to know her.” Mary pinched Lucas’s cheek making him push away slightly.

“Yes. I’d love to know more about your daughter. I’m sure we will be able to entertain one another while you get dinner ready.” his dark words made your stomach turn and flip. Now you were definitely going to be sick.

“It’s settled then. We will see you at sundown.” Your mother bid goodbye tugging you away by your arm out of the church, not letting you go for a second. Knowing you’d just run off the first chance you got.

Night came quicker than you would have liked and no matter how hard to tried to slip away your mother made sure that one of your sisters was always with you, ready to shout if you tried to bail. What was this some type of house imprisonment? You didn’t want to go, that was more than clear. But your mother couldn’t care less and your father well it was ‘whatever mother says goes’. so you were alone in the more honest terms. Your brothers were too young to know any different, your sister who is only two years younger than you was a cutout of your mother. And your little sister was daddy's little girl. She didn’t care about anything but her daddy.

What a perfect family you seem to have. Everyone fitted in somewhere but you. You were the experiment. The first batch of cookies to come out of the oven that no one touches cause they were too burned or not fully cooked.

“Come on we are going to be late.” Your mother's voice rang through the house, your sister's eyes not leaving you. She had muttered something before heading for the door. You had told her you just needed to put on some garments before meeting her downstairs. She was hesitant for a moment thinking this was a plan to escape but you had said that there was no time now and what would be the point. Sensing your defeat she left you alone. Finally.

You pull on some pants under your dress, hating having to wear such feminine clothing. It wasn’t that you were against wearing dresses or lace or even frills. It was more that sometimes you wanted pants. Was that so bad? You sighed putting all the clothes your sister had pulled out for you to try on, on the end of your bed. That was later you’s problem. You noticed your book laying on your pillow making you swear under your breath. Tucking it back under the sheets you wonder if your sister saw it. You hopped not, if she saw what you wrote or worse what you drew, she’d be telling the church to burn you at the stake.

You ran down the stairs quickly, not wanting to waste any more time, hoping that if you go over and get this night over with you can come back home and hide away in your room, wishing you were anywhere other than with this family.

This night seemed okay as far as talking about our lord and saviour over supper was. Mary was busy finishing up the final dish, letting Lucas and your parents laugh over a blessed bottle of wine. They had sent you and Lucas away to, get to know one another and Lucas had to perfect idea to show you his barn. A place where ‘he could be himself’. God, everything he says annoys you. Climbing the old rusty ladder, you stand in an empty hay loft. Your gut felt strange, like your body was warning you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until you felt a hand grip your shoulder softly but tight enough to make you freeze.

His breath was so close, pooling on your neck. fingers were ghosting along your corset strings making tears build in your eyes. Even though he was a little boy in your mind. He was much bigger than you and he could easily take advantage of you if you didn’t play your cards right. So you had to act. “And what might we get up to here hmm…”

His chuckle sickened you. “Well, we have some time before mother calls. So I thought we get to know each other. Just like our families wanted.” he pulled away, making a grunting sound behind you. You turned slowly to see he was sitting on a blanket that had been laid out on some hay. Was this disgusting excuse of a man really thinking he could charm you into sleeping with him? God, his ego was bigger than you thought. You giggled, waltzing around the small room pretending to think but in truth, you were looking for an exit. You could go down the ladder but he’d probably grab you before getting that low. Maybe over the side onto the beams. He won't be able to get to you then. But then you’d be trapped until you eventually have to climb back over. And you know he’s the type to wait you out.

A window. Probably leads onto the roof. Not practical but if you recall you did see a bunch of hay bails just outside so if you jump you’d be able to land on them. And a broken ankle or wrist was better than….”Where is your mind wondering, baby? Do I scare you?”

Your head snaps back to him, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no…no…” You step closer, looking him deep in his eyes. “you don’t scare me…baby…” You stood right above his laying figure, his legs spread, enough for you to place a foot in between them. A grim smirk painted his unpleasant features. he went to sit up and you used this as your now or never, kicking him right in the balls without another thought. His groan was loud, knowing if it weren't for how far you were from the house. Everyone would have heard.

“You little bitch!” You ran for the window, crawling out as quickly as you could. The top of your dress got caught on a nail ripping the fabric. But you didn’t waste any time to cry about broken material, looking for the hay bails. It wasn’t as high of a jump as you thought, sliding down the straw, making some of it get caught in your dress. You could hear Lucas groaning in the distance as you started to run. Run fast and run far.

You needed to go home. Quickest route is through the forestry back towards the centre of the village before turning off from the church. Jump Mr Smith's fence and climb the vines into your room. Simple enough. But it's dark, a little too dark and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and rabid footsteps in the distance. The forest was thick. Trees tightly snug together. You almost tripped several times over branches and roots. Your heart was racing now, panting as your mind was becoming hazy. Need to get home. Need to get home.

“Ohhhh Little Dove, where are you.” Lucas’s deep sinister voice echoed through the dark forest. He was too close, you needed to stop. Hide. Maybe he’d go past you or head back. “Come out, baby. We were just having some fun.”

Quiet. Be silent. don’t move. Not a mucsle.

He called your name this time your real one making you gulp. His voice was maybe two or three trees away from where you stood. A twig snaps and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. He was so close it was like you could still feel his breath. “Come on princess...” His hand wrapped the tree you were standing against and everything stopped. You closed your eyes thinking for a moment, trying to play thousands of scenarios of how you could get away. But nothing would work. He caught you. He danced the bend, slipping right into your view. Before you could run his hand gripped your throat making you freeze. “Don’t worry baby. I don’t bite.”

His words were short... sinister, like he had achieved his ultimate goal of capturing his prey. Your eyes widened going to spit back a comment but your words caught in your throat as you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Lucas. Tall, dark. Red eyes glowing through the night. Everything happened so quickly, the beast grasped Lucas the same way he had you, pulling him back with fright. “But I do…”

The creature's fangs pierced the disgusting man's neck making him scream out a noise that would make your blood curdle. His grip dropped from you, trying to scratch and fight off the larger figure. You took this moment to run, not even caring if the creature was going to kill him or not. All you knew was you needed to run. But you couldn’t run home anymore. There’s blood on your hands literally, Lucas’s blood splattered on you. If this wasn’t a perfect situation the priest was looking for to burn you at the stake you don’t know what is. “Hey, this way.”

You physically jump hearing a high-pitched voice cooe at you through the wind. It was a hooded figure, and normally you would of not gone with a stranger but in this case it seemed fair. You followed the person who seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you at all times no matter how hard you tried to catch up. It was only then, when you stopped focusing on the person to look around you noticed they were leading you to the castle grounds. Where myth reads vampires inhabit. That must have been what got Lucas.

A blood sucking vampire.

You stopped in your tracks not knowing to go back or forward. It’s not like vampires scared you per se. It was just. You were human and they are beasts. They would certainly eat you before you could plead your case. But one of them saved you right? That’s what it was doing? Not just finding two humans and deciding to have a late-night snack right….

“Hey over here.” The figure called for you again but when you looked up everything suddenly went black.

Your head was ringing. Heartbeat thumping slowly in your ears. Black splotches clouded your vision as you tried to look around. You were in a room. A Billiard room, to be exact. You have never seen a room of such a size. The bottom of your house most definitely fitting in this room alone. The leather under your fingers felt expensive, seeing the brown with bubbled texture. It was lavish, elegant—

"Beautiful, isn't it." A smooth voice swayed your attention, having caught you admiring the fine fabrics of the furniture. Your eyes locked with deep crimson ones. He was like nothing you've ever seen before. He was stunning, tall, and broad. You had to gulp at the sheer beauty of the man. But you knew he wasn't just a man. From his eyes, you knew he was a beast, a night crawler.

"Are you going to respond? Or are you more of a staring type?" Another voice scared you slightly. Looking to your left, you see another man, but he was sitting on the couch next to you. His black undercut fitted his features perfectly. He kind of sounded like the hooded figure that was helping you get away before...

"Definitely the quiet, staring type." A cheeky tone to your right. He was leaning on the pool table, his Cheshire cat grin painting his features smugly.

So there's three of them that live here?

"Now now, Woo, San. She's probably just scared." A shorter but beefier male suddenly stood next to the first one that spoke. He wasn't even looking at you, mostly paying attention to the two he called Woo and San. You were now sitting straight up, moving your gaze from each of them. As they were all in their own worlds arguing about why you might not be talking.

"You're bleeding, Tiny?" A voice growled behind you, startling you. You turned to see two very big men standing behind the couch. "When did you cut yourself?" He dragged his two fingers through your wound, making you hiss, pulling away from him.

He put one of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he were savouring the taste. Once he was done, he placed his other bloody finger in the male next to him, mouth. The other man groaned his eyes, glowing a harsher red as he stared you down. "You taste delicious, Sugar."

You went to stand, trying to get away from them, but your legs gave out, making you fall forward in front of the high-pitched boy who still sat on the other couch. "Be careful, Dollface. Don’t want ya gettin hurt."

"Okay, let's give her some space. Wooyoung, take San down to the kitchens and see if dinner is ready yet. Mingi and Yunho can go set the table." The one that stood at the door, the first man directed all the men with ease. They will followed without another word, heading for the door. "And for the love of Lillith, Jongho, can you please find your lover and Hongjoong. I think they were still cleaning up from..." He looked at you briefly. "Dealing with that disgusting human."

You knew he was talking about Lucas, and that meant this Lover boy or Hongjoong had been the one you saw ripping through Lucas's neck. They all left soon after, leaving you alone with the dominant man. You managed to sit back on the couch, but you wanted, needed to stand. So you tried your luck again, and your knees buckled, making you slip forward, but instead of making an impact with the ground, two large arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the creature's biceps, feeling his muscles taught and tense. "You do need to be careful, Darling."

Unlike Lucas's or any man, you've ever met really. These creatures don't seem to set off any of your alarms. You didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but you chose to brush it off, ‘cause in the end, you had never felt such kindness from anyone in the village. You were out-casted, unloved. You might as well be the witch they all wanted you to be. The kind smile that painted his features made your heart skip. He was indeed handsome. You finally spoke up saying who you were and the man looked at you with surprise before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you…”

Your name rolled off his tongue so beautifully. No one had ever used it to address you before. It was almost strange, foreign even. “Honestly you could call me anything. I was never called that name sadly.”

Seonghwa hummed in response, still holding tight on you. In truth, he knows much more about you than he leads on. When he and the others go on hunts he had found you a year ago. Ironically you were having your nineteenth birthday. On your own of course. He remembers the way you spoke to yourself, wishing yourself a happy birthday while you drew in your book. Your feet were in the cool water of the watering hole in the forestry just outside the village. You went there almost every second day. And so did he.

There was something about you that caught his eye. Caught all of the boy's eyes. You were special but none of them could put their finger on it. So of course when they found you running for your life from a disgusting man. They couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to their precious little human.

Dinner was quick as you just sat there and ate in silence. The others were loud though, making it seem almost normal. Like everything that was happening was something you all were used to already. Seonghwa had told you about all the boys and what all their names were. It took you a moment to put names to faces but once you got it. It was easy. Seonghwa never left your side. Making sure you were safe and comfortable. You appreciated it, understanding it must have been weird to have a human walking around. But you quickly learnt that all the maids and butlers were human. They got paid and some even lived on the estate.

Everything the village said about vampires and creatures in general was so wrong. And secretly you always wanted it to be wrong. So you were glad they weren't purely just bloodsucking beasts. But every now and then that face you saw popped into your head. You still didn’t know which one killed Lucas. And on top of it, this Hongjoong and Yeosang—Seonghwa had told you his name—were nowhere to be found.

“Okay well, sun will be up soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” Seonghwa again spoke up, dying down the chatter. It was like he took on a motherly role in the house. It was cute.

“Come Sugarcube. Yunho and I will show you to your room.” The one named Mingi flashed you a smile making you smile in response. Bidding Seonghwa goodnight or would It be morning now? Mental note to look out for a clock. The halls were lavish and carpeted, matching all the rooms you’ve seen thus far. Everything was perfect, vintage and beautiful. Yunho and Mingi had caught onto your mind wandering and had stopped for a moment, seeing how far you’d walk without them near you. You were very cute to them. Like a clueless bunny, with wide innocent eyes.

“Hey, Tiny. Your room is over here.” Yunho’s far voice snapped you out of your thoughts making you turn around to see both large men. Their arms crossed, with big grins. Your face was redder than a tomato in seconds making them both groan at how you waddle back quickly. Cute. Too cute. “This is where you’ll be saying. We’ll try and get some of your personal things tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Hongjoong had said something about grabbing some stuff while your family are out tomorrow.” Mingi rubbed the back of his neck as you slipped past both men to look into the huge spacious room. Only hours ago you were about to be married off to some pig and live on his farm until your death to now staying with not one but eight vampires.

And what was worse. You couldn’t go back. Not that you’d want to that is. But still, all your life you’ve known one thing and now… “You okay Tiny? Not the style you like? We have like ten other rooms if you want to-No it’s okay it’s just…” You cut Yunho off before taking a seat on the olive green and black silk sheets that lay on the large king bed.

“Did…Did Lucas die?” You don’t understand why you were asking about that pig but you needed to know. You needed to know would your parents found his mangled body and thought the beast that did that also killed you. Or would they think you did it? Yunho sat on his knees in front of you, placing his large hands on your thighs in a comforting manner. His smile was soft and his fingers grazing on your exposed skin was gentle.

“No. Yeosang left him alive. But he won't be wanting to live with the way he looks now.” You don’t know if Yunho’s words made you feel better or worse.

“Hongjoong helped him drag him back to that barn. His parents found him and they are looking for you at the moment.” Mingi revealed, knowing you’ll just keep asking questions so there was no reason to hide anything from you.

“Do my parents think I’m dead?” Deep down you knew they’d be happy either way. Dead, alive. Murderer or innocent. Your family would plead their sob story about the monster you were regardless of the truth.

“No…Lucas told them you ran. They think you were a part of it. Luring him out there for your vampire lover to have a meal.” Yunho felt disgusted with himself for repeating what Hongjoong had told them your parents said. But what else should they do?

“Vampire lover….hmm.” You smiled, starting to laugh. That’s what they probably thought you were sneaking off to at random hours of the day or night. Both of the men looked at one another with confusion, letting Mingi sit down next to you.

“Something funny with that Sugarcube?” Mingi’s voice was so deep, velvety. It made your core tingle and heart race. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, but still giving him a smile.

“My mother has wanted nothing but to pin some devilish thing on me and now she gets it. Something that said I did not serve the lord. Argh…” Tears ran down your cheeks “Fuck the lord. Why should I have to care what an old man did for humanity?! I just wanted to paint. Find adventure. Not marry and be a baby maker for some lowlife pig.” All your pent-up anger. All your disappointment. Every single thing you wished to say to your mother was pouring out, in front of two vampires you had only met hours ago now. It felt like a weight being pushed off your chest and you were no longer drowning. Mingi’s hand rubbed circles on your lower back making you fall into his embrace, letting him hold you while Yunho straightened up so he could hold you as well. They were beasts that could drain you in seconds yet they held you like they’ve known you for years. They listened as if they cared. They spoke as if you were the most important person in the world. why?

“There, there baby. It’s okay. You’re free now. You can do anything you want.” Yunho’s voice was quiet almost barely above a whisper. But still still heard him. You pulled away letting them still hold you but you could wipe your face. You can do anything? No one has ever said that to you.

“Well...I guess since this my first time of freedom…” You had both the vampire's attention now with your words. “I want a bath. One with lots of bubbles.” You’ve never had such a thing in your life only settling for quick showers or sharing bathing pools with your siblings. Not something lavish. Mingi laughed a deep hearty laugh. As if you couldn't get any more cute, there you went.

“I think that’s a perfect idea Sugar. We’ll get one of the maids to fix one up for you. And…” He placed his hands on either shoulder pushing you towards Yunho. Your face inches from him. Mingi inspected the wound of your shoulder blade noticing it was already closing but blood was still pooling out of it slowly. “Get this wound cleaned up…”

His tongue licked a strip upwards, following the wound. You hiccuped feeling a slight sting from him. Yunho however distracted you by giving you a kiss. Your eyes were wide and confused. He… he was kissing you. His soft lips moved slowly against yours. His tongue dipped around your bottom lip, testing the waters. Perfectly distracting you from Mingi cleaning your cut with his mouth. Your blood tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

“You taste amazing… fuck.” Mingi mumbled against you while Yunho’s tongue slipped into your mouth as you groaned. Your mind was spinning like crazy, your hand finding place on Yunho biceps, digging your nails in his cold flesh.

“Y…Yuyu..” You tried to speak, finally making both men pull away, leaving you to gasp for air.

“Sorry tiny. Your lips were just too kissable not to.” Yunho chuckled licking his lips of the saliva you left behind on them. Your heart was pounding, feeling such excitement but also a tinge of fear…

“Tha… that was my first kiss..” You felt embarrassed to say so but you felt compelled to tell them. Which made both of them growl. Mingi’s fingers wrapped in your tattered dress hem while Yunho rubbed his hand over his face.

“Fuck. I was your first kiss baby?” Yunho felt so proud of himself.

“Damn Yunho the others aren't gonna be happy when they find out,” Mingi spoke as if you were no longer there.

“Wait why would the others care?” You suddenly felt small, seeing hunger in both their eyes. You had no idea what these men were planning, nor what they all wanted from you. It frightened you. But not as much as it excited you.

The bath was filled with bubbles, vanilla scent soap and soft music from a vinyl. You could have stayed in there for hours but when one of the maids came in to help you dress your wound you knew it was time to get out. The nice maid named Minnie had brought you some sleepwear, soft silk sleep shorts and a singlet. You have never felt such soft fabric before always getting hand-me-downs or second/third hand clothing.

“You look cute.” A gentle voice echoed from the door of your room. You hummed, blush burning your cheeks. Turning you see Seonghwa leaning against the door frame, bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you, not even trying to hide that he was checking you out.

“Thanks…” You played with your fingers, standing there awkwardly as you watched Seonghwa close the door, slowly moving towards you. Like he was stalking you. No doubt Yunho and Mingi had run off bragging what they had done when you were busy bathing. God, if this was going to become a new normal you were going to develop a headache from your head spinning.

“I wanted to check on you.” For every step he took, you took one back, like a little dance until your back was firmly against the wall and his body almost flushed against you. “I heard Min and Yun had some fun with you.”

“I-..Yunho kissed me…Mingi he uh…” You felt so flustered, fanatically looking around the room feeling embarrassed about spilling what you had done even though you knew the two giants would have told everyone by now. He put his fingers on your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it slightly.

“I was kinda hoping to be the first to taste you. But then again, none of the boys tend to listen.” His eyes were hooded, looking at you with such hunger. He could feel your heart race against the pad of his thumb. He can hear your blood pumping quicker than normal. And your eyes never left his. His face inched closer, and then some. Seeing just how close he could get to you before you’d pull away but you didn’t, not even flinch. “Have you done anything like this before?”

You shook your head no slightly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Bunny?” his question made your face become redder. This was filthy, dirty, something you were supposed to be sworn away. And man did defying god feel intoxicating. You whispered no, making him close his eyes with a sigh for a moment. So innocent, so cute… So his to taint. “Do you want me to touch you, Bunny?”

“Yes…” You whisper… He tucked a piece of damp hair behind your ear making you shiver as his fingers grazed your skin. His cold tips slide along your cheek, down to your neck, before pushing gently on your man artery feeling your hot blood pump under his digits.

“I could drain you dry right now. Or fuck you full? Maybe both? Hmm?” His lips brushed against yours but not enough to seal his lips on yours. No, he wanted you to do it, he needed you to do the first move. So he knows you do in fact want it. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, leaning up to lock your lips to his. His one hand cupped your face to deepen the kiss while his other, snaked down to play with the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread instinctively, giving him access to do whatever he pleases. His wet tongue danced with you making you feel all kinds of filthy.

You had almost gotten a man killed, ran away from home. Most likely been shunned for life from your village and on top of that kissed two men that both happened to be undead creatures you only just met, while another drank from one of your open wounds. If was indeed sins, you might as well be sent down to Lillith herself on a golden platter.

“Come on Bunny, let’s get you comfortable.” He pulled away picking you up by your thighs before walking over to your bed and laying you down on the plump mattress. His lips trail down your cheeks, then your jaw until he stops at your neck for a moment rubbing his nose along your jugular. “God I can smell your blood through your soft skin.” he sighs, drawing his fangs out.

“H-Hwa p-please…” You bucked your hips against his hardening length, spreading your legs further so he could get closer if that was possible. He chuckled, darkly. Fang pressing just hard enough to pierce your skin a little bit so a few drops of blood would spill out. He licked your blood up, trying not to get any on the bed sheets. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and your taste was heavenly. Now he’s wondering how else you taste in other places. “Fuuckk.”

The feeling of his fangs and the was his fingers play with your short made your head cloudy. His hand slipped into your shorts cupping your core making you suddenly aware what was happening. His mouth finally left your neck, kissing down the exposed parts of your chest. He was worshiping every part of your body sending your skin on fire. “Such a pretty bunny. I can feel heat pooling out of you. Do you find my devilish charms that intoxicating bunny?”

You squirmed, needed more. His index finger slide along your slit making your mouth open into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes shut tightly, finally feeling some kind of relief that you were searching for. The pleasure was new, and strange, making you feel like you were in a whole another world. Seonghwa kept whispering sweet nothings to you as he slowly pushes a finger inside your drenched cunt. It was steady at first until he found a rhythm, inching yet another finger inside making your brows knot together. His name fell from your lips on repeat like some kind of broken vinyl, he knew he could get you close to your high without much effort given you have never felt such a feeling before. And with only a few more moments you were clenching around his digits, coming underdone while he stared at you intensely, watching every one of your features move and contort in the pure ecstasy he was gifting you. “Did that feel good baby? I can make you feel even better, all you got to do is say yes.”

“Yes, please Seonghwa. Please. Make me feel like that again. I wanna feel good.” You don’t know why your mouth started spilling such filth but you couldn’t care, not when you were so close to feeling a pleasure you have only wondered about in those lewd novels Miss Smith had down the path. She had let you borrow one and it had changed your life forever. Seonghwa got to work, pulling your shirt off above your head and tugging down the rest until it slipped off your ankles in one swoop of his wrists. You were completely bare for him. He could see all the sun-kissed spots. All the scars, and beauty marks. He could see the bruises of a handprint on your collarbone and other smaller ones littering your legs and arms.

Pathetic human. Digusting pig.

Fuck, does he wish that Yeosang and Hongjoong hadn’t kept him alive now. But then again giving him a swift death would have been too merciful. No, Seonghwa would want to keep Lucas in a cell, locked away for weeks. No food, barely any water. Watching him starve. Watch him beg for death. But Seonghwa would never give it to him. Lucas would welter away in the dungeon, cold, scared, and alone. Just as you felt when you were being chased by him. Just as you felt when he had put his hands on you. Seonghwa would make him pay.

“H-Hwa…” You sat on your elbows having seen the vampire's mind wander. Was he okay? Was he second-guessing his actions? Seonghwa was quick to disregard any of your fears as he shed himself off his shirt, before sliding off the bed to pull his pants down. They dropped to the floor with an audible ‘oof’. You didn't mean for your eyes to immediately gaze down at his fully grown erection but its angry red tip had caught your attention. Seonghwa didn’t mind one bit though, he admired your body in the meantime, letting you get a good look at him while he did the same to you. “That can’t fit inside me….”

Seonghwa laughed, physically laughed at your abrupt statement. “Oh don’t worry. It will.” he yanked one of your legs making you gasp. He stood tall at the end of your bed, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering up some of your cum to use as lubricant. The whole time his eyes never left yours. He wanted to see the pleasure pooling in your eyes when he entered you inch by inch. And as you bit your bottom lip, you tried your damned hardest to keep your gaze open. “That’s it, baby. Breath…”

The stretch was painful, to say the least. Even though Seonghwa had used his fingers on you, it still wasn’t enough to fully prep you for his girth. He rubbed circles in your hips, trying to settle the pain as much as he could, noticing your fingers had entangled in the silk sheets, with your knuckles turning lightly white.

“Ffuckk, hngmm Seong.” you mumbled, finally feeling him enter you fully, his groin flush against you. He stayed still for a moment, letting you catch your breath but man was it hard. The way you clamped around him, sucked him in for more. It made him want nothing more than to pound the living shit out of you. But patience. He needed patience. And luckily out of all the boys, he owned the most patience.

“Can I move Darling?” His words were a stutter, laying with groans and sighs. You nodded your head before responding with a quick and quiet ‘please’ letting him draw his cock until only the tip was inside you then smashing back in, knocking the wind out of you. You could no longer hold yourself up, falling onto your back. Seonghwa watched as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and how your thighs were clamped snugly around him. You felt amazing, looked eternal. And you were finally his.

He dreamed about what your cunt might feel like wrapped around his cock. Or how might your blood taste when you are in the middle of being fucked. Firty thoughts had always seemed to riddle his mind whenever he saw you and now he could finally get the answers. But one thing is for sure. He has no idea how he is possibly going to share you with the others. When he is going to be craving you permanently.

-♥︎

957 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 5 months

Text

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this series switches pov’s between reader and eddie, thank you to @succubusmunson @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @sweetsweetjellybean for helping me read through the first chapter, helped me brainstorm etc i love you

there are two easter eggs in this let me know if you catch em! like pokémon only not

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

masterlist

Stupid fucking bitch.

One dial tone waned into another, a monotonous wave taunting you from the end of the receiver. Your fingers tap impatiently against the counter. How long could a phone actually ring before it stopped or someone finally answered?

Too damn long apparently.

Giving up and counting your losses, you slam the receiver back on the wall, muttering more choice words as you skirt your hips behind the wooden bar, thumbing through the blue lined notebook schedule.

Work was packed. More-so than any other Friday night, but since it was the beginning of graduation weekend for Hawkins High— every Sam, Dick, and Harry had wandered into the bar looking for a cheap escape and a sugary drink.

Lucky for them, that was exactly what Queen of Hearts had on the menu. And if you talked to the right person, the luck didn’t stop there.

“No answer?” Jolene called over her shoulder, hands full with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Scribbling an angry dark mark through the name Ginger on the schedule, you toss the notebook back into the drawer shutting it with your hip.

“Just rang and rang,” you say, annoyingly jumping in to help her finish pouring three Jack & Cokes. The soda fizzes under your thumb, “and before you try to cover for her, this is the fourth time she’s done this.”

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, taking the cans from you and tossing them into the trash.

“Really thought this one would work out,” her long legs cross behind you to slot the liquor bottle back in its designated spot, “she had kids.. poor thing needed the cash.”

The familiar ache of neglect radiated through you, “I found a babysitter for the nights she was working, told her I’d help pay… that asshole she keeps around probably found out she was working here.”

Jolene raises her eyebrows. Her slender fingers hold the three drinks with ease, setting them on a tray.

“Can’t believe Jackie skipped town with that rich salesman,” she sighs heavily, leaning an elbow on the sticky bar, “lucky girl, something like that would never happen to me.”

Jealousy pings in your chest but you shake it off, “he was really dreamy huh? Those beauty marks? His hair? His ass?” You wolf whistle, “cut me a slice.”

You weren’t jealous that Jackie was now probably driving a BMW, that her life would be nothing but luxurious from here on out, or even that her boyfriend was movie star hot.

What made your blood boil over was the fact that she got out, and you were still stuck here like hardened gum underneath a table.

The club was a part of you. Like an unwanted birthmark, this lifestyle was something you couldn’t get away from. Understanding at a young age, when most girls were playing with dolls, just exactly the kind of life you were destined to live, and unfortunately it wasn’t outside of these four walls.

“Your time will come,” Jolene smiled, looking into a compact and wiping a smudge of lipstick from her teeth, “you’re still young, Miss Assistant.”

You rolled your eyes, placing the tray on her awaiting palm. Since Jackie was gone, her job was now yours. Tacking on added responsibilities with no pay raise in sight. You found out all too soon what a fucking joke that title of ‘assistant’ actually was.

“Told him I didn’t want it, but you know how that went.”

“I do kid,” she sighs, looking down at you, her eyes sweeping over the still pink scar in your eyebrow, “I really… oh honey, you’re gonna be a busy little bee tonight!”

You breathe heavily through your nose, dragging your hands down your face, “don’t remind me.”

“I’ll help out wherever, ‘kay?”

Jolene had taken you under her wing when you first walked into Queen of Hearts. Freshly eighteen almost down to the hour, naive waters brimming your eyes, forced into this life.

Her motherly ways comforted everyone, only thirty-three but in this industry that was practically ninety. Just like you, Jolene had deep roots in this place.

Her tall frame slinks over to the waiting guys sitting at the stage, a pleasant smile on her lips. Twirling the ends of her black hair twisted into schoolgirl pigtails, laying the charm on thick.

Staring over at her in a forlorn gaze, you hated to think of yourself still here ten years from now, a permanent fixture to this place, like Jolene. The lemons of life were squeezed and you had made the lemonade, but it was sour, bitter.. you longed for something sweeter.

The bubbly fantasy is popped when Mickey Fritz’ oversized hand hits the counter like he’s a toddler in a highchair.

“Hey sugar tits, I’m empty o’er here!”

Your nightmare reality comes back into view.

The walls at Queen of Hearts were draped in deep shades of red velour, a cozy ambiance to invite strangers and locals alike. The bar was backlit and stocked with a decent selection of polished bottles of whiskey, gin and bourbon.

His boots clapped along the wood floor as the pair walked further inside, leaving a plume of smoke in their wake, catching on the neon lights and creating a smoked crimson haze across the dark club.

The raised stage was centered, creating an aisle on either side of it, clad with leather backed red chairs surrounding it at every angle. For a night club in the middle of Indiana, it wasn’t half bad compared to the places he was used to out East.

A row of booths were tucked onto the left side of the club, high top tables stood crowded with drunk college students, yelling loudly and making asses of themselves to impress the working girls.

The music blaring over the speakers was a little cliche and too “pop” for his liking—fuck, had he really turned into one of those guys, questioning what a strip club was playing for music?

He rolls his eyes at his own false pretentiousness, turning it into a wink at a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of plastic flutes filled with a gut rot of pink liqueur. The gold thong she was wearing sat high on her hips, matching the cheap glittery cowboy hat on her blonde curls.

Dark eyes follow her long legs to a nearby table, a fist to his mouth as he whistles and licks his chomps.

“Damn! Can you believe this used to be the Hideout?” Jeff squawked, not so casually adjusting himself as they slid into an open booth, “that was Gareth Emerson’s twin sister, she really grew up huh, remember him?”

He didn’t.

Much like anyone else Jeff had tried to bring up since he had agreed to meet up for a drink on the occasion that they were both home, he hadn’t given high school a second thought since the night he left.

“Nah, man,” he said, grabbing for the sticky menu on the black table top, “I don’t.”

It had been years since he had seen Jeff, and he was surprised that he had recognized him at the gas station last night when he was filling up his motorcycle.

His own appearance hadn’t changed much, dressed a little better, wore cologne now, normal shit that came along with getting out of puberty.

Back then Jeff still had braces, a small lisp when he got really drunk. Now, he was a grown man. Living in Phoenix with a big important job at some company, home for the weekend to visit his parents, and watch his youngest brother graduate.

There would be no visiting family or old friends for him on this trip back to Hawkins. The thought of running into anyone he knew and having that painfully awkward small talk about the ‘good old days as a Tiger!’ made him cringe, as if that ever were the case for him.

Having left this shit hole in the middle of the night seven years ago, he took nothing with him but some saved cash, his guitar, a full tank of gas and the clothes on his back.

The heavy ache in his chest, brim filled with remorse, was an added carry on, something that didn’t go away with the miles he had put between him and Hawkins.

He had planned to keep this town in the rearview, but life, probably karma, had other plans.

Back in Hawkins strictly on “business,” that's what he told Jeff when the smiley old friend grabbed him into a bear hug in the checkout line, crushing the chips he was carrying to a powder in its aluminum bag.

Technically, it was family business. But he hadn’t mentioned that to Jeff. He didn’t want the questions, didn’t want the pity.

He barely even knew his uncle that well anyway, but being the only living relative of the deceased, he didn’t have a choice when the call came through that he had passed.

A week. That was the timeframe he told his job that he’d be gone for. Leaving just enough time to plan the funeral, and sell the trailer.

Coming home to the haunting shadows of Hawkins was like playing in a graveyard filled with demons of his past. Sorrow filled every dark corner, looming around him like a fog, making him unable to forget the damage left behind.

For years it had worked out fine, he had moved on. But every now and then, he had to push his inner demons down, and still to this day, years after the fact, they kept trying to crawl back up. The shame of his past coming to the forefront.

The music changes to another upbeat song that was popular on the radio, Jeff nods along to the beat, strumming his fingers against his belly like he was playing the guitar.

He looked over at his old highschool friend and smiled for the first time since being back here, “still play?”

Jeff stretched a wide grin across his face, chuckling a little too loud, “only in my dreams… working seventy-hour weeks doesn’t really allow me to have that kinda freedom.” He nodded and smiled a little at the waitress who was coming to take their drink orders, “so what have you been up to man? It’s been years!”

He knew all too well about not having free time to spend the way he had wanted to. He didn’t even own a guitar anymore. The last time he saw his Warlock, it was sitting in a pawn shop in Nashville— the last of his many possessions sold to make ends meet.

Ordering a beer, he counts his budget for this trip in his head, deciding to buy Jeff’s drink too. Maybe being back wouldn’t be so bad after a drink or two, a little liquid courage to get him through the night at least.

The pleather seat creaks beneath his weight when he leans back further into the booth, stretching his arms out wide. Trying to gain a sliver of comfort since being home.

Working the pole to Ginger’s song of choice, Once Bitten, Twice Shy, you found it hard to get into music you could care less about. But you didn’t have time to complain.

Legs crossed and spinning upside down, bare besides a face full of makeup and a red thong, you pretended that you were anywhere else but there.

How nice it would be to not have to crawl across dirty dollar bills, teasing a faceless man with your body so that he would be eager enough to slip a twenty into your g-string.

Collecting your tips from your set, you tap them against your vanity in the dressing room, counting out loud your mind already knowing how much money will be put away after bills are paid.

The long jagged crack in your mirror served as the only looking glass you liked to look in. The warped shapes of your face looking back at you made it easier to swallow the life you were living, as if it were a fever dream, a disturbed Alice in Wonderland type reality.

In the mirror you weren’t a dancer at Queen of Hearts. You could be a nurse, a librarian, a cook in a shitty home town restaurant who went home smelling like grease instead of men’s cologne and wearing suspicious stains.

It could be easy, simple really. Bus tickets weren’t terribly expensive. Going to any city, a map in your hand and the saved coffee can of cash tucked into your purse. You could almost imagine the taste of the ocean. The thought of even stepping outside of Indiana was enough to power you for the rest of the night.

As easily as the daydream came it fluttered away when the boss stepped into the dressing room.

His eyes loomed in a dead stare, sweat pooling on his temples. The ice in his glass shifted as it melted into the whiskey. A Colombian cigar tucked into his fat mouth had an inch long ash waiting to fall.

He wasn’t much taller than you, barely older, but his attitude and small dick made him seem eight feet tall.

“The hell are you doing in here? Fucking Christ woman, the girls are drowning out there, those needle dick college fucks are about to swing fists and you’re in here staring at yourself?”

“Just takin’ a little break Tommy, I gotta change.”

“I don’t need any lip from you, better watch it before I match that other scar y’ hear me?”

His threats didn’t scare you, it was who he answered to that made you terrified. A bad report to the big boss and you’d be drinking your meals through a straw. You knew because it’s already happened. Turns out you don’t need your mouth to swing around a pole.

“Loud and clear.”

This type of life was the only one you had ever known. You quite literally grew up with this environment right under your nose, and everyone at the club knew it.

The romance novels you kept in your purse were full of knights in shining armor type of men, another fallacy to your looking glass.

The thought of anything else was only real in your daydreams. Escaping the festering wound of Hawkins was impossible, almost unheard of. No one with your background got out.

But he did.

Shoulder to shoulder, squeezing in sideways with grimy singles fisted in their hands, the club was stuffed to the hilt with sweaty, drunk, and extremely horny men.

“… here!” you slam two more drinks onto the heaping tray and shove it into Wendy’s hands, “take this to those asshats and tell them we are out of triple sec, no more Long Island Ice Teas, if they want a drink they can order beer like everyone else.”

Wendy swung her hips with the Long Islands in tow over to soften the hearts of the college boys. Batting her lashes, sitting topless on their laps and letting them tell her stories of the parties they went to, the classes they skipped and the girls they fucked. Anything to keep them from hollering and starting a fight with the locals.

Lisa Ann was working over the business men from out of town, their briefcases shining with a matte patent leather, expensive watches adorning their wrists. Her pretty Marilyn Monroe smile on display as she brought over their drinks, tussling their hair between her pink fingernails, putty at her fingertips.

Between the rest of you rotating between pouring drinks, collecting payments and trying to wiggle past the grabby hands of Donny, the roar of the busy hour had started to lull.

All of you were tired and crabby, legs cramping and toes pinched in uncomfortable shoes. Jolene wiped her brow and blew out a deep breath.

“Take fifteen,” you said to her, “I got it from here.”

She shot you a wink and disappeared into the dressing room.

Peeling the soles of your boots from the floor you lean your back against the shelf of liquor bottles. Working your hands on the base of your neck behind your head.

The usual crink that ached when you were stressed was flaring up again. Causing your shoulders to tense up and sending a pinched dull ache from your back up to your throbbing temples. Radiating your jaw, with a heat so fierce it could melt glass and it wasn’t even eleven o’ clock yet.

Your eyes are pressed closed in a tight squeeze, maybe you could shut the pain out by pretending it wasn’t there.

“Tiffs just about done in room D,” Veronica chirped, her bracelets jingling in a metallic tune, “the ‘doctor’ again,” she explains with air quotes chuckling to herself.

“He’s only here on nights she’s workin’” you say exhaustedly, “she’s his favorite.”

Being one of the few regulars that wasn’t married, he was somehow the slimiest worm in the dirt. Tall and slender framed with icy white hair, he seemed to stare down his nose at the girls, his voice an eerily calm when he asked for Tiff, handing over the crisp fifties to secure her for the allotted amount of time.

Beads click together as she stumbles in from the back, adjusting her lipstick and holding the ripped strap of her bra, followed behind her like clockwork was the doctor, tucking his oxford shirt into his slacks.

Your jaw felt like it was going to ignite, as if it were covered in tension rods and the gears were cranking it tighter and tighter, sweat beginning to form on your back, “can you hand me my purse?”

Rustling your bag from underneath the bar, Veronica hands over the canvas tote, her emerald eyes staring at you expectantly like a serpent watching its prey, “care to share those little party favors?”

Rolling your eyes, you move your hand through the contents inside. Pushing past a checkbook, lipsticks, and the papered corner of a tampon. Finally your fingers close around the smooth unlabeled bottle.

Two tablets land in your palm when you pop the cap, and you shake it begrudgingly to release another tablet from the bottle for Veronica.

She giggles and grabs two shot glasses, pouring bourbon into them both.

“Only one,” you instruct, a serious look in your eyes, “I’m not picking you up from the floor later.”

A coy little smile on her lips, she brings the shot glasses over, handing one to you, “you worry too much.”

Placing the pill in her free palm, you clink the glasses together in a little cheer.

“To us,” Veronica grins, “may our titties stay perky, our asses juicy, the boys pockets fat and our kitties not loosey.”

You roll your eyes and she laughs, her lips close around the glass the same as yours, and you swallow down the liquor, wincing at the taste.

Within fifteen minutes the temporary high coats your brain like a warm blanket, floating you to a place far away from shiny poles, 6 inch heels, and ass slaps, away from Hawkins.

Jeff listens intently as he explains a very bland and watered down version of how he left Hawkins and traveled east, working odd jobs.

Skipping the part about how he lied about his age to find work, and how he spent an entire month getting his ass kicked after dishwashing shifts at some swanky restaurant outside of Raleigh.

He explained the good stuff, how he worked part time at a tattoo shop for one of his buddies he met in Philly. His full time gig being a lead shift at a factory.

It wasn’t that impressive, he knew that, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit what anyone thought of him. For only being twenty-three, he was proud of having a paycheck every two weeks from a legit place.

The click of the waitresses shoes on the floor had Jeff looking up, thanking her for the drinks. She was dressed a little more conservative than the other waitresses had been, wearing a black mini skirt and a see-through red long sleeved top, showing off black sparkly stickers that covered her nipples.

But that wasn’t what had him taking a second look. At first glance he thought maybe it was just a note written in pen, a reminder of some sort on the top of her hand, lots of people wrote on their hands right? But when she set the drinks down, reaching past them and across the table to grab a napkin, sopping up spilled beer, he almost choked on air.

It wasn’t something written in pen, or a weird unlucky shaped birthmark. The marks on her hand were two small symbols, they had faded with time and were blown out a little on the edges.

Of course they were, because the identical marks on his hand were blurred the exact same way. Two little symbols, done on the hottest day in July. The smell of his childhood room stung his nose as he thought of that day.

A day when you were both only thirteen.

The regulars were bellied up to the bar holding an aluminum can toast to their long gone friend, hollering for you to play some David Allen Coe in a final goodbye.

Flicking through the jukebox to find “Never Even Called Me By My Name,” you were too busy to pay any attention to the toast of the deceased buddy.

Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have been completely blindsided.

“Clovie?” A disgustingly sweet saccharine voice laced between bubble gum pink lips sang out from behind you, tapping you simultaneously on the shoulder, “be a dolly and run the drinks over to table 8, would ya?”

“Why c—”

Tiff was already gone, the door to the dressing room swinging shut in a shower of White Diamond perfume before you could even spin around and tell her where she could shove those aforementioned drinks.

Outside of collecting her own tips, and pleasuring the doctor, Tiff never lifted a finger to help.

Wiping your hands on the cleanest towel you could find, your muttering goes unheard as you cross back over to the bar and grab the cracked black plastic tray set with two large overflowing mugs of draft beer.

The ground was sticky under your boots, like walking in half dried paint, sometimes you wondered if Wendy actually served a full drink to anyone.

Balancing the heavy tray on your palm and shoulder, you pray that it won’t snap before you’re able to place the drinks down.

Table 8 was occupied by a guy you had seen before but couldn’t remember from where, and a long dark curly haired woman who was facing away from you.

The smile on your face was the fakest one you could make, hoping to maybe get a good tip before Tiff could notice and take her claim.

“Alrighty,” your customer service voice sang with a false sweet sincerity, “looks like we have two Busch Lights?”

The guy you had greeted smiled eagerly, moving his elbows from the table allowing room for the frosty mugs to be placed.

Your fingers work gingerly to set the ruby colored drink napkins down first. The beer was placed carefully, his greedy fingers grabbing the handle before you could barely remove your hand from it.

The second beer started to slide on the tray, and you over corrected causing it to land with a thud on the table, sloshing the pale ale all over the table—luckily not on the woman.

So much for a tip, huh?

Apologizing quickly, you lean across the table and reach for the paper napkins. Wiping up the mess hastily you toss the wet heap onto your tray.

Turning to the woman to offer her a look that’ll hopefully get you in her good graces— well enough that maybe her husband would reconsider tipping, “I’ll go fetch a rag and come back with another beer free of charge sweetheart,” you start to smile sheepishly, “I’m so s—”

The eyes you were met with were the deepest shade of brown, struck with astonishment, crowded by a grove of thick lashes, a look of dismay etched into them.

Blinking once, twice, you couldn’t register if you were truly seeing this or hallucinating.

You hadn’t seen those eyes in years, a flash of recognition drops on your face and the perky smile fades. Heart falling to the well of your stomach, punching the air from your lungs, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks.

In an instant, you’re brought back to many years before tonight. When those eyes were younger, full of teenage angst and rebellion.

Hell must’ve froze over, pigs were without a doubt flying overhead: Eddie Munson had returned to Hawkins.

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler

#eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie fan fiction #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things

530 notes · View notes

nnight-dances · 9 months

Text

CHERRY-FLAVOURED

PAIRING: choi seungcheol x f!reader (ft. kwon soonyoung & kim mingyu)

GENRE: fluff, angst

TROPES: small town au!, exes to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, fake dating (w/ soonyoung), you own a small bookstore and i never mention what seungcheol does (but just know he's rich).

RECOMMENDED: reading ADORABLY, YOURS before this, since this is the same seungcheol and i make a few references to what happened there.

"Oh, did you hear? Seungcheol's back in town!" Nayeon calls out with a lopsided smile she thinks is inconspicuous. You think it's obnoxious.

But you don't let her know how much the news bothers you, pretending to instead by absorbed in currently trying to get your hair to sit right in a ponytail. "Sure," you reply, not breaking eye-contact with yourself in the mirror.

Your roommate quickly catches though because she appears by your shoulder in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "Right. And you're fine with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" you mutter, devoting every fibre of your being to make your tone stay flat.

"I don't know, the way you've been working on this ponytail for the past fifteen minutes had me thinking otherwise," she shrugs, "And the fact that it still looks like shit from the back."

You scoff in offense, "All my baby hair makes it real hard to do this, okay!" But Nayeon's already making her way back to the kitchen to finish her breakfast with a teasing giggle and you watch her in dismay, wondering if not only your hairstyle but also your acting had really been that bad.

And as you spin around to face your reflection, you figure that the general bad-ness of your life might have something to with Seungcheol's return to town after all. Not that you would ever admit it, for many reasons. But mainly because of the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend.

You liked to think you'd ended things with him on a good note– there hadn't been too many tears or screams and you still would catch up with him whenever you ran into him, an occurrence that was basically inevitable given how small your town was. But ever since he'd left on trip to visit his much-famed best friend, Jeonghan, you'd finally gotten around to thinking about why you were still single despite having left a long-term relationship for over a month.

…Which led to a series of messy first dates with the few tolerable men in town who would otherwise have you cringing at the thought of talking to them. And well, actually going out with them convinced you your first impressions were always right and your intuition was all-knowing.

–

Meet Soonyoung, the man who would almost unmistakably come around asking for gum in your store. Your bookstore.

You couldn't figure out if it was a honest fault of his personality or if he was doing it to annoy you– until one afternoon you found it was something much worse: he was flirting with you.

"Y/N, your hair looks cute today," he's telling you through a grin right now. You look away from the computer screen where you've been logging the new stock of books in, ready to tell him thanks and that you needed to hear that since your beloved roomate insulted you this morning. You don't get around to saying all that because you spot a figure entering the store behind Soonyoung, where he's leaning on the counter with his hands under his chin. He thinks he's slick but you know it's so he can show off his arms.

You've forgotten all about Hoshi and his boyish charms because you notice the new customer is none other than the recent arrival to town, Seungcheol.

You hate the way you can feel your heart skip a beat at the revelation so you quickly turn your head back to your screen. "Thanks, Soonyoung."

Thankfully, Hoshi doesn't seem to notice the stiffness of your clipped response and instead is distracted by a stack of plastic-wrapped books.

"Wow, you sure have a lot of new stock coming in these days, huh?"

You nod, still not looking away from the screen. "Yeah, I've been working on keep the shelves up to date with the new releases. I'm sick of people using the feedback box to curse me out for still placing the classics out front."

You hear a snort then and you immediately recognize it as not Soonyoung's.

"You'd think that's how the feedback works, no?"

Slowly you turn to look at him in the eyes, unsettled by the playful glint you find there. "...Can I help you?" you ask quietly, keeping your tone cordial but not too warm. Hoshi stands up straight with Seungcheol next to him, earning him a glance from the man.

"Oh, did you finally hire a part-timer?" he asks. You consider throwing the stack of new books in your ex's face. And then you remember how much they cost. So instead, you settle on shaking your head.

"No–" Hoshi cuts you off, though, much to your chagrin.

"No, I'm just here giving Y/N company," he's saying and you really wish he wouldn't speak, but he goes on, "She's been pretty stressed out these days and last week–"

"Soonyoung," you look at him warningly, "do you think you could help me double-check if there's a delivery out front? I keep getting tracking updates that it's close."

"Of course!" he responds already reaching for the glass doors, "Be right back, Y/N!"

With Soonyoung gone, Seungcheol finally breaks into the guffaw you know he's been keeping in for the past five minutes. "What's that all about?"

"It's none of your business, Seungcheol," you inform him as you busy yourself with tidying up the stray pieces of gum wrapper Soonyoung had conveniently forgotten.

"Oh, so you do remember who I am, after all?" You hate how much you like listening his voice turn slighly soft at the sound of his name on your lips. And the how your breath's a little uneven when he slides to invade your line of vision, big hands tapping at the counter to get your attention. As if you could possibly be thinking about anything else right now.

"Why are you here, anyway?" you ask him, training your gaze on him. "Because I know, for a fact, you don't read."

"I'm hurt, Y/N," Seungcheol gasps with a hand to his chest. His unbelievably firm chest. "And after I worked so hard to read that boring poem book for you?"

You almost seethe at the way he calls it a poem book but contain it with a grimace. "Can we get to the point here? I have a store to run, dude."

"I'm serious! I came here to find a book. Considering picking that poem book again, figure out what the big deal is for once and for all."

You stay still, unresponsive to his ridiculous excuse. Seungcheol waits a few beats, eyes locked with yours before giving in. "Fine. I was in town and wanted to see how you were doing."

Never mind, you think you preferred to hear the ridiculous lies because the way your ex-boyfriend's gaze drops to your fists by your side has you immediately unfolding your grasp. Stupid Seungcheol and his ability to fuck up a perfectly okay daily routine.

"Ugh," you sigh out after a moment, "Come on. I'll help you find the chapbook. But you have to promise to never call it a poem book ever again. Or I'm blacklisting you."

You don't see it but when you spin around to march into the bookstore, expecting Seungcheol to follow you, he's all smiles, his own fists unravelling at the way your tone lost its cold somewhere along the way of this encounter. He skips behind you with a noise of excitement.

"Okayyyy," you hum as you crouch by the poetry section, fingers expertly running through the spines of the thin books there. Seungcheol crouches by you, a little too close because his arm brushes against you, almost throwing you off-balance.

You're about to tell him off for surprising you but he suddenly smiles, dimples so delicious in the soft glow of the light of the bookstore filtering through the bookshelves. "Your hair looks different," he comments, voice low and his gaze slowly follows the trail of your low ponytail, the thin grey band that holds the strands together clearly very worn-out. "Looks pretty."

And where Seungcheol's wondering when you started wearing your hair up, you're incredibly flustered by his compliment. You stand up too quick, knee joints popping, and you think you must really be growing old when your vision blacks out a little.

You steady yourself with a hand on the shelf, quietly scolding Seungcheol, "You're in the way." He joins you on his feet, making way with an exaggerated wave of his arm, not missing the way your ears are turning redder by the second.

You're gifted a good solid five minutes of peace as you inspect the shelves, wondering how you lost track of the chapbook, when Seungcheol speaks up again. "Um, so seriously, what's the deal with you and Soonyoung? You… seeing him?"

For all his attempts at maintaining an air of nonchalance, Seungcheol can't help how irked he was when he walked into your bookstore to the sight of Soonyoung making conversation to you. Irksome especially more so because he'd heard you say that you hated having people around you while you did the boring but imperative computer-related stuff at work, something about wanting to get the misery out of the way as soon as possible. Yet, there Soonyoung had been, distracting you with all his airhead being.

"I can't seem to locate the book right now for some reason," you start, doing nothing to ease Seungcheol's worries, "And I also can't seem to comprehend why my dating life is a point of discussion between us… anymore."

And wow, does your comment hurt. It hurts Seungcheol but also you, even as you're the one saying it because you can practically feel his mood dampening at your words. But the rational part of you is praising you for doing the right thing and setting your boundaries before you get any more carried away by your ex-boyfriend's ways.

That afternoon Seungcheol leaves your bookstore, very empty-handed and extremely heart-broken, because as he exits, he can already hear Soonyoung asking if you wanted get lunch with him.

–

Speaking of lunch, enter Mingyu because eating out with someone, more often than not, meant making a trip to his humble but bustling restaurant. It was everything right with your small town: a simple menu that remained consistently mind-blowing no matter how many times you visited.

Wish you could say your friendship with Mingyu had maintained the same level of consistency as his culinary competence.

And in your defense, you didn't know how much longer you could've gone ignoring the way Mingyu would take every opportunity to make you extra sides that you didn't order and send you specially curated handmade dinner-sets when he heard you were sick or too busy to eat. You hated it, crossing the friendzone you had so carefully placed him in, but one late night, when he showed up at your door in the rain just so he could deliver your food before it went cold, you caved and invited him in.

So while you legally have no choice but to politely turn down Soonyoung's offer for lunch, you can't help that you find yourself walking to Mingyu's Kitchen on Saturday morning for some brunch because as much as you loved improvising with the two ingredients in your fridge, nothing beat the ramyeon he cooks.

You're still groggy when you enter the cozy shop but the familiar scent iss already warming you up from the chilly air outside. Except you make eye-contact with the man as you step foot into the place.

The man being Seungcheol, of course, because where you could handle fielding Mingyu's puppy eyes on you, a reminder that you hadn't texted him back yet– Seungcheol's intense glare fixed on you has you shaking in your boots. Literally.

"...actually, I think I'll just eat here," you hear him call out as you approach the counter to place your order. Your head hurts already so you don't think too hard about Seungcheol's request to Sakura who nods with a smile.

"Y/N!" Mingyu materializes in front of you with a beam to greet you and you think sunglasses might've been the way to go this morning.

"Hey," you drag out the greeting, flinching at your own hoarse voice, "What's up, Gyu?"

"Nothin' much, just dealing with the usual Saturday morning rush, y'know? Maroon 5 should write a song about that instead of crying over Sunday mornings, don't you think?"

You're busy processing the tall man's chaotic train of thoughts when you hear Seungcheol laughing faintly. You glance at him, frowning when he's standing closer to you than you remember and then look back at Mingyu. "Ha, sorry it's so busy," you mumble.

"You don't sound so good. Did you catch something?" Mingyu inquires, brows furrowing and you genuinely love the man for his observance but dread its consequences nevertheless.

"Ahh, I mean, it's fine. Just a little cold from the wind," you clear your throat in an effort to sound better, "But I'll have a ramyeon for that very reason." You try to punctuate your sentence with a light-hearted chuckle but with your condition, it just kind of sounds like you're dying so you shut yourself up.

"Feeling under the weather?"

You look up from your phone screen, where you've been fixating all your attention so you can ignore the way Seungcheol's seated himself on the table right next to yours. This was the problem with eating out alone. The danger of your ex-boyfriend tailing you. You swear you're dragging Nayeon out after you next time, her fucked-up sleep schedule be damned.

You shrug in response to his question, "I'm fine. Thanks for the concern."

"You're very welcome," comes his teasing reply, "But seriously, you've got to wear more layers than that if you want to make it to winter."

You look down at your long-sleeved top with a frown, "I think this attire is perfectly appropriate for the fall, actually." You tug at the sleeves so they cover your wrists as if to prove a point.

Seungcheol raises a brow, "It would be a perfectly appropriate attire for someone who doesn't have the immune system of a rat."

Gasping, you shoot back, "Rude! I don't see why I have to stand this slander even when we're not together."

There it is. The words slip out your tongue before you have a minute to filter your thoughts and though things between you and Seungcheol are more chill than most former lovers, your sudden comment has the atmosphere turn ever so awkward, with his smile falling and your own turning sour.

You sigh in relief when Sakura brings out a tray to Seungcheol's table that very moment, saving you just a little embarassment. "Enjoy your meal!" she smiles at him and then at you, "Your food will be out soon!"

You nod, swallowing against your dry throat and watch as Seungcheol stares at his food wordlessly. You really had a way with words for someone who sold books for a living. Eventually, you go back to distracting yourself with your phone and he starts eating, suddenly laser-focused on his food.

You're thankful for the space, until you see Mingyu making his way to your table with your tray in his hands. You don't know why he does that, bringing you your food despite being the head chef and owner of the place. Well, you do know why but you didn't have the energy to deal with the reasons today.

Not with Seungcheol sitting right there, eyes on Mingyu's back as he places your food in front of you, grin intact. You're about to thank the man and hopefully, cut any conversation short but he beats you to it.

"Here's your food, Y/N!" his voice borders on cracking but he goes on, "I made you some yuja-cha as well for your throat. And make sure you eat a lot of kimchi, okay? Let me know if you need anything else."

Slowly you nod, thanking him under your breath as he takes off and now it's your turn to stare at your food in silence while Seungcheol's shooting daggers your way.

If he thought he was upset by your thing with Soonyoung, the way Mingyu was just all up in your space with his stupidly sweet gestures has Seungcheol… a lot more upset.

"I thought Mingyu and you were just friends," he's voicing before he can help it.

Your head snaps up in surprise but really, you should've seen this coming. You compose yourself, averting your eyes back to the warm food in your plate. "And I thought I made it clear that my dating life is none of your business."

"It's not my business," Seungcheol says, unconvincing to his own hears, "But it would be a problem if you were, you know, two-timing."

Now you know Seungcheol is trying to get on your nerves because he knows how much you hate dishonesty and to accuse you of being disloyal is a low blow, really. But it works because you finally look back at him with eyes wide, "Of course I'm not. I slept with him like once!"

Where the news has Seungcheol feeling conflicted because where it was good to know that nothing was serious, it was also not fun to hear that you'd slept with him. But while he tried hard to not dwell on Mingyu's impressive physique, you were busy catching up with your own loss of control.

Because even despite your unintended confession that you hope you weren't too loud about, you quickly supply in a quiet voice, "...well, it was technically a date that led to sleeping– but it had nothing to do with Soonyoung— I don't even know why I'm telling you this!"

You spend the rest of your brunch focusing on finishing your food and appropriately thanking Mingyu for the food, a little apologetic for many many reasons, so you can leave the same room as your ex-boyfriend faster.

But he makes it real hard, because just as you step out of the restaurant and take a deep breath of the fresh September air to settle your nerves, you hear his voice calling you out. You stuff your hands into the pockets of your pants to brace yourself as you turn around, already starting to say something about how he needs to leave you alone and forget you said anything.

"You left your phone behind!" he cuts you off, holding out the device for you to see. You curse under your breath, feeling incredibly ridiculous as you reach for it.

"Thanks–"

And then he dodges your grasp, leaving you flailing around like an idiot while he looks on with an amused half-smile. Half a smile because he knows you would kill him and then yourself if he straight-out laughed at you.

"I'll give it back if you unblock me."

Your shoulders slump and a groan leaves your lungs. "Seungcheol."

But his smile only widens because you may be glaring at him but you did just say his name. And a win is a win.

"Seriously? You're holding my phone hostage just so you can blackmail me over something so petty? Come on!"

"I'm sorry, do you know how many seal memes you've been missing out on since you blocked me? This is no laughing matter."

"I'm not the one laughing," you snap and then cross your arms in exasperation, "Don't be a child, dude, and just give me my phone."

"Why did you block me anyway?"

You raise your brows at him as if to say really? but he maintains his smile and you groan again. You hate him for knowing that you hadn't blocked him right after the breakup thanks to someone's insistence on thinking seal memes were funny and that the real resaon you'd blocked him was–

"–Siri kept recommending your contact every single time I would go to make a phone call! Heck, I couldn't even text Nayeon to get me a towel in the shower because the messages app would automatically redirect to you."

Seungcheol watches in awe as he connects the dots in his head and mutters, "You still had me saved as kkmua's dad?" You look away but your silence is enough of an answer.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the reason your phone confused Seungcheol with Nayeon because he was kkuma's dad and she was kookeu's mom– an idea a drunk you had found incredibly hilarous. The similarity in their spelling had your algorithm all fooled every time you typed in one or the other's name in a rush. Still, you wish Seungcheol was a little dumber sometimes.

Now as you look at Seungcheol you can see he's thinking of something. Most likely considering the question: Why didn't you change it?

"I was too lazy to change it back, okay? Blocking you was obviously the easier choice."

"I didn't say anything," he tells you with an easy smile, clearly pleased to see you flushed. "For what it's worth, you're still promising young woman in my contacts. And I didn't even have to block you."

It's probably because you've seen Seungcheol so much more than the past two months in the past two days, but you find yourself moved by his words. They're not that meaningful really, he's just bringing up a past inside joke in that reassuring tone of his. But you can't help but smile.

"I hate you," you breathe out and in the context of the conversation, it makes enough sense. But Seungcheol's dimples deepen because in the context of your history with him, the words are a consolation.

He only becomes certain of it later that night when he's washed up and throws himself into his sheets to find his phone lighting up in the darkness. It's you.

promising young woman sent you a link

promising young woman: rats actually have a great immune system so joke's on u

And that's all it takes for Seungcheol to go back to his lovesick self, squeaking into his pillow as he reads your text over and over until he can comprehend that not only have you unblocked him of your own accord (debatable) but were also texting him first.

–

The next time you run into Seungcheol, it really brings his contact name to life. But before that, enter Soobin, a shy blonde who's recently moved to the town.

"You like Lamp, huh?"

Soobin jumps around, eyes flailing around as if you'd caught him red-handed. And you might as well have, what with how he'd been humming and swaying to the music leaking out of the speakers in your bookstore. You'd enjoyed watching the younger man visit the store more frequently the past few weeks, always in the evening hours when you would finally break open your playlists, a luxury you only allowed near closing time.

"Ha," he nervous laughs, "Y-Yeah… Sorry, I didn't think you were still here."

"I run the place, Soobin. It'd be a bit of a problem if I just took off." You smile at his flustered sigh and move past him to shelf a book you'd taken out to review earlier. "Anyway, we're closing soon. You buying anything today or…?"

Soobin looks at the thick book in his hands and you recognize it as a new arrival but then he flips it around, a little unsure. "Umm, I'm not– this seems cool but also scary so probably not?"

"I'll take it off your hands then?" you offer with an understanding shrug. But he shakes his head eagerly, "No, no, don't worry. I remember where I took this from. I don't want to get in your way."

"...All right," you reply after a pause. Then, brushing your hands against your pants, "Let me know if you need help, anyway."

But Soobin's far from one to bother you as he leaves wordleslly, not without assisting you relocate some heavy boxes to the store before you lock up for the day. You're calling out goodbye after him as he takes off into the night when you hear soft barks closing in on you,

For a beat, you freeze because the sound is excruciatingly nostalgic and you genuinely think you must've time travelled when you turn around to see Seungcheol running toward you with a very excited Kkuma leading the way. You're already dropping to a squat when the dog scurries to your feet, licking at your ankle before you get your hands on her.

You let out an undignified coo at the white ball of fur, "Kkuma, my baby. Aww, baby, you're so sweet. Look at you!" You go on for a little bit, fussing over her as she rolls over for some belly rubs before you come to and become aware of the way Seungcheol stands by, patiently watching.

You slowly rise to your feet with an awkward smile.

"I'm convinced she still loves you more than me," the man starts with a pout, "And it's still so unfair. Kkuma, I'm your dad. I pay for your meals and grooming, you know?"

You laugh at the way he scolds his dog in a small voice as you retort, "Maybe she's in her rebellious years. Let her be."

Seungcheol's soft gaze lands on you with a huffed chuckle. And then he looks at something behind you. "Who was that, by the way? New conquest?"

You throw your hands up in the air. "Come on, man. You can't keep doing this!"

"Doing what?"

"Snooping around in my business! And also making me sound like some kind of a player."

Seungcheol looks down like he's reflecting. Kkuma paws at his leg with a whine and you look between them before letting out a cough.

"That was Soobin. If you must know." You look away as you say this, like it was no big deal, reporting on your customers to your ex-boyfriend because he still got all whiny when he saw you with another man. Neither of you is ready to address the meaning of your actions toward each other quite yet. So you both pretend it's normal when Seungcheol lights up a little when you speak up.

"Soobin…? Haven't hear that name before."

"Yeah, he moved in a few weeks ago. Shy guy but very smart," you say, "And I think he wants to work part-time at the bookstore."

"Woah," Seungcheol's ears perk up, "That's great, Y/N! You could totally use the help."

You turn to face him, arms crossed yet again, with a suspecting look on your face. "Hmm, I guess you could say that. I haven't popped the question yet though so don't go around spreading rumors."

"Aww, you know I would never snitch on you like that! Unless he makes a move on you, of course, because that would be a very different story–"

"Seungcheol."

Nice. That would be three points to Seungcheol if he was keeping count of how many times you'd said in his name in that grave voice of yours, indicating that you were mad but also couldn't cover up the laughter that bled into your tone anyway. And he was.

–

"What about you? You were gone a while."

Seungcheol counts his blessings every minute you spend with him, even if a lot of it was you pushing him away. But you couldn't stay consistent with your cold demeanour for much longer, not with him making sure he ran into you just as you closed your store. With Kkuma scurrying for love and his innocent blush whenever you greeted him, it wasn't long before you were letting your walls down.

So it's no surprise that you find yourself curious of what he'd been upto in the month-long visit he'd paid to his best friend.

Initially, Seungcheol's giddy ove your question, like you were on a first date all over again and not just walking along the dim grass fields like you so often did. "You know how it is with Jeonghannie. I meant to be there for a week but… one thing led to another and I was there for a while."

You fall silent, trying to imagine what it must've been like for him. "He still lives near that college, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. He's a strange fellow."

"Not that strange. College towns are like cities," you chuckle, "but with less crime and cranky people."

"I don't know, college students are pretty cranky too. Maybe even worse than the average city person." You raise a brow at Seungcheol's grimace.

"What, did Jeonghan force you to fraternize with college kids or what?"

Okay, now Seungcheol's getting a little worried when he realizes where this is going. And even though everything's in the past for him, he can't help but hesitate to tell you what exactly he'd been up to.

"...Yeah, I mean, most of his friends are college seniors. He knows them from his time there so it's pretty chill."

A few more questions from you have Seungcheol pulling out his phone to supply you with some visuals for some of the events he's mentioning and the way you softly laugh into his shoulder at the sight of the chaotic night parties has him getting a little careless.

"Wait, wait, who was that?" you stop Seungcheol's now excited swiping with a cold hand to his forearm. He freezes, more because he realizes what you're trying to see than the temperature of your body against his.

"Um, oh–" he watches dumbly as you go back a few photos to a selfie of him and a girl. They're grinning in the photo, teeth on display and cheeks clearly red from intoxication.

"Ohh, is she one of his college friends? She's cute–" You interrupt your own musings over the stranger when you go back another photo in his gallery. This time it's a photo of the girl kissing Seungcheol on the cheek, his eyes closed with a shy smile.

"That's–" Seungcheol barely opens his mouth to explain but trails off when you abruptly pull away from him. "She's– A friend… Um, goes to college in the place and she's–" He stops talking with a groan because great, all his stuttering has you side-eyeing him, no doubt recognizing the guilt swimming in his eyes.

Your voice is so small when you finally speak up, pace increasing. "That's cute," is all you say.

"Wait, Y/N, you don't understand. I know what I sound like but–"

"Just to be clear," you stop your brisk walking to hold up a hand in between you and him as if to symbolize the space there. "You don't have to explain anything to me. It's all cool, Seungcheol."

And the way you murmur his name transports him back a couple months, a similar breezy night. One where you'd pulled him away from a group dinner with your friends and looked down at your feet the whole time but your words had pierced right through his heart anyway. Even back then, you said his name softly, without any malice, but even that might've been merciful. Because what's worse is the way you uttered his name like goodbye, sincere enough to bring tears to his eyes, even now, as he watches your forlorn back disappear into the night.

Zero points to Seungcheol.

–

"Y/N, you in there?"

It takes a good minute of Nayeon repeating her questioning in increasing volume for you to finally hear her knocks over the sound of the music playing through your headphones. You frown as you uncover one ear and call out, "Nayeon? What happened?" The door to your room slowly creaks up, revealing your roommate standing there with her hands occupied, each holding up a bottle of soju invitingly.

"Wanna talk about it?"

You're already tearing up when she asks you that and by the time you've both drunk your way through the bottles, your eyes feel numb. You interrupt your own worrying over how swollen they were bound to be tomorrow when you point a finger at Nayeon and question, "I really needed this today. How'd you know?"

She smiles, "Of course I did. You ignored my text about eating at Mingyu's Kitchen and my offer to pay. Plus, you didn't do the thing you usually do where you come in and complain about your ex."

You pout, "I'm sorry. I must be so annoying."

"You are," Nayeon shrugs, "And I like it. But you know what I would like more? If you would just make up with him already."

"No."

"Is this about that one photo of some girl kissing him on the cheek? You know how petty it is to get jealous over something like that?"

"She was seriously pretty, Nayeon!" you defend yourself, "And I'm not jealous, just– just upset because he didn't tell me earlier. I feel so stupid."

"I'm sorry, babe," she mutters, rubbing your back, "He's an idiot for not just coming clean."

"I know! Even after he went sticking his nose in my business and who I slept with while he was gone!"

You sniffle, "Maybe I should just call him and tell him to never ever talk to me again. And that he's a jerk. And that I still love him."

"Wait a second," Nayeon pulls you back onto your butt on the floor, "Maybe, let's reconsider that last part?"

You're clearly more drunk than you let on because you look genuinely confused by her interjection. "What? About me hating him?"

–

When you drag yourself into work on Monday, you expect a lot of things. You see the headache coming, from last night's drinking and this morning's lack of hot water. You also know it's going to rain the whole day so it's only harder to put one foot after another to move. And where you also expect to pestered by a man: the desperate pleas don't come from Seungcheol like you'd secretly hoped.

"Soonyoung?"

The man, who'd been impatiently pacing by the entrance to your store, stops at the sound of your voice and spins around, nearly slipping over thanks to the wet ground. He throws the daunting hood covering his eyes with a bright smile as you run over and hastily unlock the store.

"Why're you out here in the rain?"

Soonyoung sighs in relief once he's inside brushing his damp pants off with a quick hand. Then, he looks up with a shy expression, "Well, I… need to ask you something."

And given his past mooning over you, when he says that with a nervous laugh, you're stiffening up because you think you know where this is going. But then, Soonyoung defies your expectations for the second time yet again.

Because where you'd expected to have to turn him down with an incompetent attempt at kindness, the next hour finds you grappling with all the information he's throwing at you.

For starters, he does ask you out. But– "It's fake. Dont worry, I'm not actually into you like that," he quickly adds with a dry laugh.

As it turns out, he's asking you to help him make a move on a girl he only recently realized he liked. Her name's Chaewon and the only thing you know about her is that she owns a strawberry farm and can sing on ocassion. So you're easily worried by this proposition, "Soonyoung, why would you pretend to be with someone else? Shouldn't you be asking her out?"

The boy heaves a sigh, "Y/N, I hate it to break it to you but nobody does that anymore. Keep up with the times, won't you? Jealousy is the new I like you."

"I'm pretty sure that's not true," you scoff out, refusing to let Soonyoung peg you as old-fashioned. Your stomach swims at his words anyway, ming wandering to your own… jealousy issues with a certain someone.

"Anyway, there's an open observatory night or something at her farm tonight with complementary dinner after. And I need you to come with me and make her jealous."

"I don't like how serious you are about this," you complain, "And I don't think I want to be a part of this evil scheme."

"Please, Y/N, you're the only one I can rely on! And you're basically a celebrity around here, when it comes to dating."

You frown, finally looking away from the shelf you'd been re-ogranizing, "What do you mean?"

Soonyoung bites his lip, clearly having said something he shouldn't have. You poke at his arm urgently with a glare. He groans, giving in, "Well, it's just… your break-up with Seungcheol was the only thing anyone could talk about last month! And then the gossip only resurfaced when he came back to town."

"What kind of gossip?" you press with narrow eyes.

"I– can't say."

"Soonyoung," you warn him, "Tell me. Or I won't pretend to be your girlfriend."

"Oh, come on! This is blackmail!"

"I thought you really wanted to be with Chaewon, no?" you question with inordinate amounts of innonence in your smile, "Makes you want to paint flowers onto the sky for her, doesn't she?"

"Fine, I'll tell you but only because this side of you is scary," the boy sighs out, "People think the reason you broke up with him was because he cheated on you. And now he's back in town so he can apologize and make up with you… or whatever."

"That's ridiculous!" you cough out, "Who's been spewing this nonsense? I'm gonna have to–"

He holds your arm in an attempt to ground you, "Nobody really thinks it's true though! And remember how you promised to not tell a soul about a word I told you today?"

"I don't because I never said that–!"

"Seungcheol's gonna be there tonight, too, if that helps?"

Soonyoung's clearly much more devious than you last remember him being but when he explains that this could be a win-win situation for both of you– where he makes Chaewon realize her feelings for him, you also make Seungcheol jealous with your little act.

And while you're sure to curse the him out for his assumption that you would want to get back with Seungcheol at all to begin with, the idea does leave an impression on you. Your mind's gears are working really hard, not just because you're trying to figure out a new spread for the monthly display at the front of your bookstore, but also because you keep finding loopholes in Soonyoung's grand plan.

"But is pretending to be together for one dinner really going to convince anyone? I mean, no offense, but nobody I know will believe that."

Soonyoung shrugs, "It's not just for one night. We're obviously going to do other stuff." You scrunch your nose up in disgust. "But think of tonight as the opening night. What we do tonight determines how the rest of our lives will pan out. We could end up lonely and dreadful if one of us messes up."

–

For all of your criticism of Soonyoung's hyperbolic description of a dubious scheme, that evening finds you making double-takes in the front camera of your phone every other minute. Yep, turns out your nose was still on your face.

"Y/N, you look great," Soonyoung calls out finally, having watched you the whole ride to the venue. It was part of his plan, of course, to make things seem more official in his words. "So can you stop?"

"Are you sure you don't like me?"

As it often happens, your own question catches you more off-guard than it does Soonyoung. Your nerves have succesfully taken over your bodily functions.

"I don't, Y/N," he responds with an easy smile, "I don't know why you keep asking me that. Do you like me or something?"

You sigh. "Sorry. It just seemed like that for a while. But I'm glad you don't, it makes things a lot easier."

"Good," he hums and then, after a beat passes, "By the way, when all of this over and both of us are hopefully happily in love with our respective partners–"

"I'm not in love with Seung–"

"And after you're done denying your feelings– Maybe we can be friends?"

You nod with a thoughtful hum, "Sure. That sounds fine. Except I thought we were already friends?"

Conversation with Soonyoung becomes a lot less tiresome when you've both established the purely platonic basis of your relationship. Which is ironic because fifteen minutes later, he's whispering in your ear to smile as he reaches for your hand. But his presence is still comforting and you find yourself wondering why you hadn't always found it this easy to be friends with him. The thought keeps you distracted momentarily and then, you lock eyes with Seungcheol.

You were standing next to Soonyoung when it happened, hand in his as he caught up with friends and purposefully showed off his new relationship. The news was as unexpected to them as it was to you this morning and keeps conversation busy enough to allow you to be completely zoned out. And then you spot Seungcheol across the room, his eyes fixed on you in the distance and his mouth set in an intimidating line.

You look away with a cough, feeling your neck grow warmer. Soonyoung senses the change in your mood and when he asks if you're okay, you lean into his ear and complain, "Fuck, I just made eye-contact with him."

He breaks into a grin at your indirect admission to still liking your ex. If Seungcheol knew the context to your arrangement with Soonyoung, he would find this entire exchange heart-warming, losing it over how shy you've gotten. But he doesn't know.

So in his eyes, it just looks like you've just whispered an inside joke into another man's ear and his chuckles are out of fondness. And that's why attributes your shy flush to Soonyoung's response to you, and not the eye-contact you'd made with him seconds ago.

Seungcheol spends the rest of the night lurking. He skirts your surroundings, his eyes in disbelief every time you don't pull away from Soonyoung's hand on you. He's confused and jealous. The combination has him malfunctioning in a corner when he spots you breaking away from Soonyoung's side for the first time that evening.

He doesn't even spare a thought to his actions when he springs forth, trailing you to the refreshments. You're trying to refill your lemonade even though you don't really have the desire to drink it anymore, mainly because Soonyoung had approached Chaewon and it seemed like his plan was working because you'd never felt so invisible in a conversation before.

You can feel the act tiring you out though because you don't notice it when Seungcheol sneaks up to your side, breathing down your neck and staring seriously even when you spin around and almost spill your drink all over yourself in surprise.

"S-Seungcheol!" you groan out, flustered but relieved your dress didn't have to suffer the consequences of your weakness around him. But your heart certainly did, especially when the man stepped closer, voice few octaves lower than usual.

"What are you doing with him?"

You go silent, knowing that you should feel unsettled by the absence of friendliness in his tone but only feel yourself enjoy the way he's so obvious about his jealousy. You look back at him, trying to seem innocent but immediately hate the way his eyes have reddened. "I'm… helping Soonyoung out."

Seungcheol's expression is a big question mark at that. A big angry question mark followed by an exclamation point, if you will. "...by following him around on his arm all night?"

"Um… yeah," you look over his shoulder to make sure Soonyoung's still occupied by Chaewon and the momentary lack of attention is already pissing your ex-boyfriend even more. You hate lying but you convince yourself that right now, you're simply witholding information from someone.

"I don't get it, Y/N," he says, "Did I lose my chance with you?"

The question catches you completely off-guard, leaving you gaping at Seungcheol. You were used to his short-temper and his incessant questions but this was new: the solemn setting of his lips and his downcast eyes as he asked you if he still stood a chance with you. He was being vulnerable, you realized, in a way that he never was during your relationship. The change is dizzying, it really is, and you can only think of all the other ways Seungcheol's been changed since he returned.

And all the ways he's stayed the same.

You swallow against the lump in your throat, "Come with me."

You lead him to a slightly more secluded part of the observatory, a dimly lit corner that's orchestrated by more crickets and the lack of chatter is a welcome relief to your already crowded senses. "I'm not actually with Soonyoung," you breathe out, the truth weighing heavily on your tongue even though you'd only pretended for the one night, "I'm pretending to, because he asked me to."

Seungcheol's eyes widen, "What? You're fake-dating that guy? Why?"

"He likes Chaewon," you point them out for him over his shoulder but Seungcheol only stares at your face with a serious expression. You retract your pointer with a flushed face, "And they were apparently getting nowhere, despite both liking each other. So he figured he needed some intervention."

You point to yourself this time with a half-smile and then remember the unimpressed look on Seungcheol's face. You watch his face carefully but he remains still for over a minute.

"Well, I'm only telling you because you asked so nicely," you clear your throat, feeling a little stupid now that he's gone mute, "Do with that what you will. I'm gonna go back…"

You pat your dress down and exhale heavily, trying to steel yourself against both the disappointment and the cold night-air. You've already rejoined the noisy crowd, only a few steps away when you pick up on Seungcheol's voice.

"--meant nothing…" is all you can pick up so you turn around to find him at an arm's length, muttering something, too low for it to be audible. You say, "What did you say?"

"I said that the photo you saw that day meant nothing. She's Jeonghan's girlfriend and I slept with her once. I also pretended to be into her but only so I could forget about you."

More than anything, you're shocked by the way he emphasizes you, the word coming out stronger than the rest of his explanation, one that does more to soothe your nerves than you realize. But you also don't know what to with this new information, because your brain can't keep up with how much more context there might be to it– Why did he sleep with her if she's with Jeonghan? And why did he look so happy in the photo if it meant nothing?

But tonight isn't about you, it's about Soonyoung and you've made a promise to him. So you tell Seungcheol, "I've gotta get back, Cheol–" the nickname slips out before you've censored yourself. Your face burns but you turn away quickly. "I- See you later."

The crowd is so close to you, just another step or two and you could be lost in the sea of half-familiar faces and probably get caught up in catching up with someone or the other. But if the crowd is close, then Seungcheol is closer to you.

His hands are on your shoulders, warm heat invading your exposed arms pleasantly when he holds you back with that pained look of his. At this point, you're only partly grounded in your body, floating around when you hear Seungcheol's words to you. "I'm still in love with you, Y/N. Never stopped loving you, to be honest."

That brings you back to earth with a jerk and you blink at him slowly. "I–" you start and then trail off. Then you start again, now that reality's starting to set again. "I feel the same. Obviously. I tried to move on but– ugh, I still love you." You feel Seungcheol's arm slide down to your elbows and then to find your hands, intertwining your fingers with his like he'd imagined doing ever since he got back to town.

"So we're good?" Seungcheol asks you, licking his lips with a small smile.

"Um, well, what do you mean by that because if– I mean, if we're friends–" You're trying to think of a way to state your thoughts in a self-respectful way when he leans in, lips brushing against your with a soft sigh. Your own breath hitches, especially when Seungcheol's hands come up to cup your face with a gentleness you forgot he could muster. He kisses you, sweet and soft, and when you pull away it's with a stupid grin.

He matches your grin, "Does that make things clear? We're not friends. I want to kiss your face and it would be great if you stopped pretending to date other men–"

The mention of fake-dating has you gasping loudly as you push Seungcheol away hastily, "Fuck, I'm supposed to be with–" You turn around and no doubt, everyone rushes to look away but you know the damage has been done when you hear scattered applause and whistles. The sight is heart-warming to you in a universe where you haven't just fucked up a plan.

"I messed up big-time," you tell Seungcheol with an exasperated groan.

The man regards you with thinly-concealed glee, "We kiss and make up but you're complaining because…?"

"Soonyoung! I was supposed to–"

Seungcheol doesn't do anything to help when he leans in to peck your lips again. You scowl at him, "What was that for?"

"Sorry, I just forgot what I was to you for a moment there, what with you going on about another man–"

"Cheol, I just confessed my love to you," you scold him but your ears turn pink, "And you're my boyfriend. So don't forget that. But right now, I need to go find my fake-boyfriend or I'll have blood on my hands–"

You're rushing to spot Soonyoung's head in the crowd when he suddenly appears, much closer than you'd anticipated, probably because he's heading right at you. You start to feel the guilt build up in your throat but then you see the grin he's sporting and the way he's skipping toward you.

"Soonyoung," you call out, "I'm sorry–" you gesture toward Seungcheol vaguely, "I got a little caught up."

"Ahh, don't worry about it!" the boy chuckles lightly and then crosses his arms like he does when he has something to tell you, "I'm– The plan worked!"

"What?! It did? But I thought–?"

"Yeah, well, one part of the plan was to get you and Seungcheol together?" Soonyoung reminds you with a sly smile. You feel Seungcheol's arm around you as he pipes up, "It was???" You ignore how excited he sounds and narrow your eyes at Soonyoung, "Okay, but we clearly just ruined the whole act! What about–"

"Chaewon got jealous. And then when we spotted you and Seungcheol kissing, she was about to be really mad at you but I explained things to her… and then, she was mad at me but then… um, well, we, you know, kissed it out."

"Soonyoung!" you exclaim, clapping your hands together in relief, "That's great! We don't have to date anymore!"

Soonyoung laughs at your phrasing but you're busy being wooed by the smitten smile on Seungcheol's face when squeezes your hand, muttering, "You all mine now?"

–

Cue star-gazing with Seungcheol.

It was his idea, one he'd suggested out loud to you over the dinner that was also his idea, the candle between you flickering with your breathless agreement. You were in love with Seungcheol like you'd been for as long as you remember. The break-up, creeping up into your mind thanks to a combination of a lull in your relationship with him and doubts of whether there might be someone else for both of you, seemed like a faraway event already when you resumed your life with him.

"The stars are pretty, aren't they?"

You hum in agreement to Seungcheol, fiddling with his fingers. His laughter bleeds into your body, "You're not even looking up at the sky, baby."

You shift to lay down next to him. "I was!" you defend, "But then I got scared. The stars just make me feel so insignificant. And temporary." Your voice breaks a little, "I don't want temporary."

Seungcheol wraps around you, bringing your face up to his and watching you blink the tears out of yours. "Oh, doll, you're so precious," he huffs out, running a thumb under your eyes, "I love you. Fuck being temporary, okay? I'm going to be with you forever."

"You can't guarantee that though," you mumble out.

"I know I can't. Because I could die before you or like be abducted by the aliens when they inevitably come colonize us. We all know I'd be their first pick."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Y/N, we're still together, even after we broke up," he kisses your cheek to emphasize your togetherness, "We're in love, despite it all. And that seems solid enough to me, you know? The scariest part of going into a relationship is the possibility of separating. But if we've done it before, how bad can it be?"

"What if we break up again?"

"Then we'll figure something out," Seungcheol says, "I know we will. It might not be the same as always but I promise I'll always be a part of your life for as long as I can."

You sniffle into his shoulder, "I love you. Can you please beg the aliens to take me with you?"

Seungcheol's laughter resounds through you yet again, a hand brushing your hair lovingly. You were finally wearing your hair down again, and it might've something to do with the way he would find a way to slip the hairtie out of its place. It sits around his wrist now, worn-out but incredibly dear to him.

"Of course, love, anything for you."

–

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

the seungcheol brainrot never stops <3 i hope i've done this seungcheol justice, given what he went through in jeonghan's fic lol... anyway, i'm thinking of writing another part where jeongcheol catch up or something?? may be an interesting collision of worlds... we'll see.

816 notes · View notes

quin-ns · 24 days

Text

The blue (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: first series I’ve finished and I could not be more excited to share! please read the tags and if the subject matter is uncomfortable to you, you do not have to read. this one is a wild ride guys, I can’t wait for you to see what I have in store 🫶

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ didn’t really understand how this happened, but it did. When he tried to trace it all back, there wasn’t really one big moment. Just a bunch of small individual moments that amounted to… this. This feeling. This thing that kept him up at night that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

He’d never been in love before, so it took JJ awhile to realize that’s what he felt for you.

Or maybe it was the denial. The moral part of his brain telling him it wasn’t normal. Your mom was married to his dad, so according to everyone else’s rules that made you his step sister—even if he didn’t think about you in that context anymore.

He used to, when you both were younger, before your mom got arrested. A large part of why JJ was so happy when you came into his life was because his dad eased up on him, finding some semblance of happiness with your mom.

But she wasn’t exactly perfect. To be with his dad, JJ always wondered what was wrong. As it would turn out, she had serious issues, but what they got her for was being a tax cheat. It added up how they could’ve met after that.

It was getting to be around… what, a little over a year since that happened? JJ couldn’t really keep track of the months, and you never liked to talk about it.

As much as JJ loved his father, he knew he wasn’t a good guy, even if he wanted him to be. So it surprised him when his dad still let you stay with them, but you’d been around since you were both about thirteen, so even if his dad didn’t think of himself as responsible for you (or even JJ), he at least cared enough to not throw you to the street.

That was about the same JJ got from him, and recognizing that is what brought you closer to him.

Sure, you’d been sort of close growing up, but not really. You mostly spent time with your mom and your own friends. Then, when everything went down, you lost your mom and your friends followed not long after. He saw the puffiness in your eyes when you’d come home and go to your room for the whole night. No one to hang out with after school and nowhere to go on a Saturday night. They had ditched you, apparently deciding that mocking you was more important than being there for you. It made his stomach hurt to see you in such a state. You didn’t smile for days.

So JJ, being the good step brother that he was, stepped in. He took you under his wing and brought your smile back.

You fit in well with his friends, easily becoming a part of the group. They liked having you around, and JJ felt like he got to know you in a way he hadn’t ever before.

It was selfish, but you made being at home easier. You kept him company when he stayed up too late and made sure to wake him up in the morning so he wouldn’t be late to work whatever odd job he had at the time.

Whenever his dad hit him, which started again not long after your mom was locked up, you were there to take care of him.

You were so sweet with him, eyes full of care and touches gentle as you cleaned his cuts or iced his bruises. It made it hurt less.

After one night, when his dad hit him, leaving a cut from one of his rings on JJ’s face, you came to his aid as you frequently did. His dad stormed out, so it was just the two of you as you cleaned his face. You had him sit on the couch and stood over him, one hand holding his face while the other held a cloth to make sure the cut was clean.

As JJ stared up at you, your frustrated words about his father falling on deaf ears, one jarring thought crossed his mind.

You should kiss her.

He’d immediately stood up, snapping himself out of whatever daze he was in, and went to his room. You’d tried to talk to him, but he brushed you off and said he was tired. When he asked to be left alone, which was rare, you did.

He didn’t sleep most of the night, staring up at his ceiling wondering where that thought had even come from. He’d never had it before, but from that moment on, JJ started to become much more aware of everything you did—everything you did for him.

Of course his friends loved him and cared about him, and he did the same for them, but with you, something about it just felt different. You were by his side nearly every moment of the day. You saw things they didn’t, and you were there when they couldn’t be.

You became everything to JJ. There was no other way to put it.

That was a couple months ago, and since then, his realization had morphed into something far more.

JJ was deeply, madly in love with you, which was not something a guy should be with his step sister, but he was. He didn’t really deal with it, just shoved it down and tried to ignore it. It was hard, especially when he was around you every single day, but JJ had done his best.

JJ would catch himself staring at you more than he’d admit, but no one seemed to notice. No one would suspect what he was thinking anyway. He made excuses to touch you, like a hand on your back when moving past you to get something or draping his arm over your shoulder and leaning on you jokingly. The latter made you laugh, and he’d join you, but he’d still feel a loss when you playfully nudged him away and told him you weren’t an armrest.

Sometimes, when he didn’t care how pathetic it was, he’d let himself drink too much, just so he could lean on you when you’d help him inside. When he pulled that stunt, sometimes he’d get lucky and you’d even stay by his side to make sure he went to sleep comfortably. And of course, whenever his dad struck, fists full of misplaced rage, you were there, easing the pain.

JJ resolved to take what he could get, and eventually he’d move on.

At least, he hoped that’s how it would go. Maybe he’d get lucky and—

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of JJ’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

JJ blinked. He looked at you, zoning back in. In an instant, he remembered what was going on. You and him, along with his three best friends, were all on the beach. The others were in the water, while you had been sunbathing on shore and JJ… well, he’d just been sitting by you, wanting to be in your proximity (and sometimes steal glances when he couldn’t help himself).

But now you were on your feet, leaning down as you dropped your hand. JJ’s eyes fell from your face to your chest, and he swallowed when he caught a glimpse down your bikini top.

His eyes flicked back to your face. Was that too obvious? He hoped not.

“Sorry, what?”

You gave him a confused look, but laughed and straightened up.

“Do you wanna get in?”

He knew you meant the water, and in the distance he saw his friends waving for the two of you to join them.

JJ shook his head, and the action felt as if it were in slow motion. Kind of like when he was high, but much less carefree.

“Um, maybe in a bit.”

If he got too distracted he’d probably drown in the ocean—if the guilt of keeping his secret from you didn’t do it first.

You shrugged, not able to read him the way you usually could.

“If you’re scared, there might be some floaties somewhere,” you teased as you turned your back, heading for the water.

JJ couldn’t formulate a comeback, too focused on the swing on your hips as you walked away from him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed again, questioning his own self what was wrong with him. He’s never experienced such a desperate feeling before. What were you doing to him?

When he opened his eyes, you were in the water, and he had no answers.

He tried to focus on the sand, the water, the sky—anything but you. He even tried to look at Kiara just to see if it would work, but his eyes always drifted back to you, the ache in his chest growing with each passing minute.

JJ didn’t think much of it when he saw Kiara suddenly haul herself up onto Pope’s shoulders, but he felt like he got kicked in the stomach when you climbed onto John B’s.

John B’s arms locked around your legs, the two of you laughing loudly as you steadied yourself. JJ could hear it from shore—you weren’t that far out. JJ knew he was focusing far more than necessary because he saw the way your hands brushed John B’s hair out of his face as he tilted his head back to look up at you.

Even from where he was, JJ could see how you smiled down at John B. It was innocent and friendly, and it made him incredibly jealous.

You and Kiara started to go at it, trying to knock the other into the water.

JJ didn’t think anyone noticed when he stood and walked down to the edge of the sand.

“You’re going down!” Kiara shouted, her hands interlocked with and pushing against yours as you both refused to budge.

You laughed loudly. It was like music.

It took one exchanged look from you and John B to formulate a plan. It was the kind of silent communication that JJ thought you reserved for him.

You let Kiara lean a lot of weight on you, and that’s where your advantage was. In an instant, you relaxed your grip and John B stepped to the side. The other girl, and Pope beneath her, wobbled. It was over in a second. The two shouted right before they crashed down into the water.

“Ha!” you exclaimed, raising your hands in the air while John B whooped and hollered in celebration.

Kiara and Pope emerged, both rolling their eyes. It was their turn to share a look, and as JJ waded into the water, he figured out their plan.

With the two of them jumping at John B, it was easy to knock him off his feet. JJ’s eyes went a little wide when you fell into the water with a crash.

“Did you see that?” Kiara yelled with a grin when she spotted JJ.

“Kinda hard to miss,” he responded, looking around the water. It had been a few seconds and you had yet to reappear.

“They’re just messing with us,” Pope commented on your and John B’s absence, but his words started to sound less sure by the end.

Another long beat of silence passed. The waves grew still.

“This isn’t funny anymore!” Kie shouted.

JJ felt a twinge of panic, awful scenarios flashing through his head. It didn’t matter how unlikely they were.

Suddenly, water erupted. John B arose with a splash, with you clinging to his back. He roared dramatically while shoving water towards Kie and Pope. They screamed as the waves hit them, trying and failing to shield themselves.

“Revenge!” you yelled in a maniacal manner, chin on John B’s shoulder.

“Truce! Truce!” Kie and Pope both yelled, spitting out saltwater.

John B paused, and JJ noticed how close his face was to yours when he turned his head.

“Should we forgive them?” John B deferred to you.

You hummed thoughtfully. “I think they learned their lesson,” you decided. Your gaze, which had been focused on John B, shifted past him. “Hey, look who made it!”

JJ realized you were talking to him. He forced a smile, smothering the jealousy he felt at seeing you and John B in the position you were in. It seemed weirdly close for you two. You and John B weren’t usually touchy-feely-piggyback-ride friends.

John B seemed to pick up on JJ’s shift in demeanor, because his smile was a little more contained as he said, “Hey, man.”

JJ figured his friend didn’t get that he was jealous, which was for the best. Everyone knew JJ was protective over you, and John B probably thought JJ was questioning his intentions as your brother. Why would it be anything else?

“Nice victory,” JJ replied, having nothing better to say. He didn’t even grit his teeth, so he counted that as a win for himself.

Tension eased as you all decided to just chat and relax in the water until the sun set.

Although, JJ kept an eye on John B, noticing how his friend kept an eye on you.

When it got dark and you all began to head back to the shore, JJ found himself at your side. Your steps fell in line with his as you looked up.

“You feeling okay?” you asked lightly. You must’ve sensed his attitude shift, even if it was subtle. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”

JJ couldn’t help the urge to smile at how well you knew him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, not wanting to concern you. He liked when you worried about him, but this was the one time when he didn’t want you pressing for him to open up. “Are you?”

JJ reached to ruffle your damp hair. You swatted his hand away before he could do any real damage.

“Very funny,” you grumbled. Your expression shifted to a smile, then softened. There was something careful about it. “If something was up, you’d tell me, right?”

JJ swallowed, trying to avoid the way your eyes searched his. He had to look forward before he could answer.

“Yeah, of course,” he assured.

JJ didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he remembered everyone sitting around the living room.

Wait, no. That wasn’t right.

The porch. Everyone has been sitting on the porch, drinking and laughing together. He recalled cramming himself into a chair next to you, playing it off like a joke. Everyone had laughed, and he got to be close to you, so it worked out.

He also remembered following Kiara and Pope inside, expecting you to be behind him.

Everything clicked.

You and John B had elected to stay outside, and JJ had been sitting on the couch, watching through the window, trying to make out what you were saying through the small opening where the window was cracked for the nighttime breeze.

He must’ve dozed off while waiting for you. That didn’t sound like him—he would’ve been focused on watching you, making sure you made it in. Maybe he had been worn out or you stayed up way too late, or both.

JJ blinked a few times. He was just concerned for your safety, like always. Fenced in porches with lights and his best friend keeping you company could be dangerous…

Yeah, he didn’t even buy that.

It was easier back when JJ believed his own lies and self justifications.

Sitting up, JJ peered out the window. It was the early hours of the morning, right around when it was still dark but you could just tell the sun was about to begin rising. His heart sped up when he found you missing from your chair. You weren’t in any of the other chairs in his view, either.

He stood up, feeling more awake than ever, and went right for the door. He didn’t care about waking anyone inside up.

“Jeez, man,” John B said suddenly, sounding surprised as he looked at him. JJ had just barged out onto the porch out of nowhere. “You good?”

JJ took a second to observe his friend. He half-sitting and half-laying back on the couch against the wall, which made sense because he’d been sitting there before. From inside, JJ couldn’t see him, but he didn’t even think about John B’s whereabouts until he stepped out.

Maybe he was a bad friend for that.

He didn’t feel that guilty, though, because he saw where you were; sleeping on John B with your head on his thigh. You were curled up on your side, facing away from his body, and JJ could see how steadily you were breathing.

JJ looked back at his friend, ready to lash out, but the word ‘irrational’ popped up in his mind and resisted. Just from the scene in front of him, it’s not like he had anything to be mad about.

Jealous, maybe, but not mad. But he couldn’t act on that feeling either. If he acted jealous, that would invite too many questions that JJ didn’t have a good answer for.

“Fine just…” He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. “You guys good?”

John B furrowed his brows a little, but chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re fine. We were just talking and she started to fall asleep and I just let her. She seemed tired and it wasn’t a big deal so...”

“What were you guys talking about?”

“I don’t know, stuff?”

JJ leaned back in the doorway. “Like what, though?”

John B tilted his head a little, shaking it ever so slightly.

“Just… life and stuff. Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” JJ replied, giving the appropriate answer. He looked down at you, noticing you hadn’t stirred. You looked comfortable, and that was very conflicting. All of this was. It made his head hurt. “Has she been asleep long?”

John B met JJ’s eyes when he looked back up from you.

“You sure you’re okay?” John B asked, sounding almost concerned. Or at least confused. Maybe both.

But the answer was no. No he wasn’t.

“Yeah, man,” JJ answered with a shrug. “She probably won’t wake up if you wanna get up and go get some sleep.”

John B looked down at you, then at JJ.

He slowly started to move, being extra careful with your head, making sure to put a cushion beneath you before standing up straight.

John B gave a light, awkward smile to JJ as he neared him. He brushed past to go through the door, turning to face JJ.

“You coming?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep out here,” JJ answered, fighting the urge to look at you. He gave a shrug instead and said, “It’s nice out and I can’t get comfortable on the couch anyway. You can have it—plus I think Kie’s in your bed, so…”

“Right…” John B agreed slowly, glancing at you on the couch again. “You know nothing happened, right?” He looked back at JJ. “We were just talking.”

JJ wasn’t expecting something so direct. “It’s cool man, I know,” he found himself replying. “We’re good.”

John B nodded, albeit slowly. He entered the dark house, and JJ shut the door behind him. As a courtesy.

He then turned, spotted the comfiest chair, and resolved to sleep in that for the night. You had stretched out on the couch and looked too peaceful to disturb, even if he did want to take John B’s place from before.

It worked out perfectly, because it gave him a clear view of you as he decided to let himself go back to sleep.

As his eyes closed, he wondered if John B would peek through the window just as he had.

If he did, he’d see the content smile on JJ’s face as he drifted off to sleep. For yet another night, JJ got you all to himself. He didn’t want it any other way. He wasn’t sure what he would do.

#stepbrother!jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #step bro!jj maybank #the blue #obx #outer banks #quin-ns writing

219 notes · View notes

cherrygukki · 1 year

Text

after last night (m)

➸ pairing: rich fuckboy! jungkook x f. reader ➸ word count: 4.3k ➸ genres: acquaintances to fwb, smut, unreciprocated love, mild angst if you squint, and a sprinkle of fluff ➸ summary: After last night, Jungkook doesn't know what to do. You got to tell him when he's gonna see you again before he drives himself crazy. ➸ warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, protected sex, whiny jk, rough, making out in public for like a minute, grinding, lots of kissing, hickeys, dirty talk, praise kink, face sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting (once), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, he's WHIPPED for reader's pussy, i almost forgot to say that jk also finishes early but that's okay he makes up for it🤭🤭 ➸ author's note: As what the title suggests, this short series (maybe) is inspired by After Last Night by Bruno Mars. I'm literally OBSESSED with this song so I couldn't help but write something dedicated to it. As always, enjoy reading!

Wishin' on a shootin' star, say a prayer for me

And hope it comes true

Jungkook can't help but heave a sigh, twirling the almost empty wine glass around in his hand while looking at the night sky with such loneliness in his eyes.

The sight above him is beautiful, but to him, there's nothing more beautiful than the image of your face in front of him right now. He craves you by his side, appreciating the view outside his window as you spend the most loving time in your lives.

So, when his eyes spot the phenomenal shooting star that swiftly passes through his home, his mind screams your name right away, praying to whoever's listening to him in the sky to have you here with him.

It's foolish, but he'll just about do anything to see you again, hoping that his wishes will eventually come true someday.

Throw my phone out the window, there's no player in me

Those days are through

When he said that he's willing to do anything for you, he meant it with every fiber of his being. Hence, it doesn't take Jungkook any second thought to pull his phone out of his pocket only to throw it out the window. He lets it fall freely from the high level of his penthouse without a care. Perhaps it's the alcohol seeping into his veins, putting him under the influence, but there still remains a part of him where he doesn't regret what he just did. After all, he only wants to prove you one thing by the end of the day —

He's more than willing to enter a new chapter in his life, and the title of that chapter is you.

You put it on me like I never felt before

That gushy, gushy good, girl, I want some more

While Jungkook continues to appreciate the mesmerizing city landscape beyond him, his mind couldn't help but drift off to the moment you met each other for the first time.

He had only intended to have a great time with his old friends during that highschool reunion of your batch. If only you hadn't attended that party like the gorgeous goddess you were to his eyes, then perhaps he wouldn't be so crazy like he is now.

Back then, Jungkook merely thought of you as the smart student who had a few admirers here and there, only ever getting the chance to talk with you every time you're paired up on a project, but he never thought of batting an eye towards your direction. However, the clearer view of your beauty in the present is in no doubt, indeed a present to him.

Without hesitation, he strikes up a conversation with you right away, leaving everyone else in the ditch as his entire attention was now directed on you, and you only.

It took hours for the party to end, thus it doesn't surprise you to see Jungkook impatient to get the both of you out of the venue, for you already knew where this night was about to end the moment he greeted you.

You haven't even gotten the opportunity to jump inside his car, but you're already making out on his hood like horny teenagers all over again. He kisses you with a spark of fire, spreading flames all over your body like a wildfire. You moan when he bites your bottom lip before pulling away, extending his warmth down to your exposed neck where he marks you like his personal treasure. You throw your head back in no shame whatsoever, disregarding the environment around you when you begin to grind your crotch against his thigh. The moans you let out our wanton, especially when he easily locates that sensitive spot on your neck to lick, suck, and bite on it that already has you reeling for the man.

You're certain there's a wet splotch in your underwear by now, already aroused from merely grinding away on Jungkook's thick thigh as well as him leaving dark spots all over your neck as if tomorrow will never come.

He slithers a tattooed hand beneath your dress to rub your clothed folds. You gasp loudly at the abrupt intrusion, letting him do whatever he desires at the moment while you relax at the sensational touches he leaves on you.

Whimpering, you grip tightly on his shoulder to urge him to go on. "Don't stop," you whine, "Please don't stop, fuck—"

"I won't, sweetheart." He licks at the fresh hickey he's just made while whispering. "I won't."

Before anyone could even catch up to what was going on, Jungkook hides the both of you from out in the open, hastily fishing his car keys from his pocket to unlock the Black Mercedes he's about to drag you in. He opens the backdoor, and soon enough, he's messily falling along with you on the leather seats where you continue to explore each other's bodies.

He locks the car again before hunching your dress around your waist to take a look at the sopping mess you've done with your panties, pushing them to the side when he finally gets to touch your bare pussy for the first time tonight.

Growling, he leans down to your ear only to send you a hot wave of shivers with the raspy whisper he lets out. "Gonna make you cum so hard tonight, sweetheart." He chuckles, "So fucking hard."

Jungkook wasn't expecting to receive exactly the same treatment he intends to give you tonight.

The moment you arrive at his penthouse, the two of you are already sticking to each other immediately like opposite poles of a magnet until you eventually navigate yourselves to the large couch in his living room. He settles you comfortably on his lap, hands traveling down to your clothed ass where he kneads them as you continue to lap each other out. You're the first one to pull away after a few more seconds, for he's already sucking the breath out of you with his plush lips alone.

You impatiently begin to unbutton his dress shirt, admiring the bulky figure that's hidden underneath the flimsy layer of fabric. He does the same to you, wrapping an arm around your back to unzip the tight outfit refraining his eyes from indulging in your gorgeous figure. The straps fall loosely around your shoulders, and soon enough, your dress is already messily hunched around your waist, exposing the entirety of your body to Jungkook's lust-hungry gaze.

By the time you get rid of his top, you don't hesitate to lean down and place kitten licks on his nipple. He quietly gasps at your bold move, resisting the temptation to have his eyes rolling back when you lick a fat stripe on his chest. He shivers underneath you, falling victim for your presence as he tightens the hold he has on your waist. Your pussy is gushing your arousal like a waterfall, and Jungkook doesn't fail to notice how desperate your whimpers get when you pick up the motion of your hips on his thigh.

Pulling away, you attack his lips ferociously, moaning oh-so wantonly that it has the tent in Jungkook's pants growing angrier by the minute. "I wanna ride your face."

"Fuck yeah, baby." Jungkook almost whines when you hastily settle yourself on his face, having your panties already ridden off earlier from the steamy car ride on the way home. You pant heavily, sensing his warm breath knocking right on your entrance, steadily aligning your core above his pillowy lips until he takes matters in his own hands — becoming more desirous for the sweet nectar leaking over him.

"Oh! Fuck, Jungkook—" You draw out a long mewl when he laps at your pussy like an oasis, leaving no drop of your juices out of his mouth as he dances his tongue around your sopping folds.

Nothing left could be heard in the spacious room aside from your lewd moans and the obscene noises of your wet pussy being eaten out by Jungkook.

You desperately grind on his face, searching for more friction, repeatedly nudging the tip of his nose with your clit which only has you throwing your head back in bliss.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels more than euphoric seeing your fucked out expression from below. He wiggles his tongue in every spot he deemed fit to have you toppling near the edge. Your taste alone is enough to get him off, bucking his hips in the air to seek for a release himself. Swallowing every drop you offered him only has him going crazier by the second, only urging him to fuck you with his tongue this instant, and that's what he exactly did.

The abrupt intrusion of his tongue between your folds elicited a loud whimper from you. He fucks you with his tongue like how he would with his cock — messy and fast.

Breathy chants of his name and a messy mantra of moans and whimpers come tumbling off your tongue. You bounce on his face like the desperate one you were, chasing that orgasm that's merely boiling from deep within your core.

He simply couldn't get enough of your essence, akin to getting intoxicated by the best form of addiction in the world. He continues to lap on your dripping cunt as if he's the next one in line on a death row, moaning every now and then which sends vibrations reverberating up your spine. Your mind blacks out, and now the only thing you can think of is Jungkook's skilled and wet tongue bringing you to an intense orgasm.

You don't hold back from leaving your mouth ajar to spill out the most sinful, yet heavenly noises Jungkook has ever heard, provoking him to add up to your pleasure by encouraging you to swivel your hips around his face.

Your pending orgasm is peeking around the corner, and the knot that's about to blow up inside you is about to make a mess on Jungkook's swollen lips. "Fuck, Jungkook, I'm cumming—" you whine, thighs shaking profusely until the knot snaps.

Gasping, Jungkook doesn't leave any of your juices unwelcome, for he's greedily drinking your juices up in pure gluttony. Your pussy keeps gushing out new waves of your orgasm for Jungkook to consume, and he can never get sick of it. If anything, it leaves him wanting more of that gushy sweetness you provide him, never ever being stunned from the way you do it.

Sweet, sticky, thick and pretty

You changed the game

At this point, Jungkook wants nothing more than to shove his cock in the prettiest pussy he's seen in his life, similar to a messy abstract painting that always succeeds in enticing the people's eyes — that's how beautiful Jungkook saw you.

Slowly lifting your hips off his panting face, you finally take a glimpse for the first time on how fucked out he already seemed. His lips are absolutely smeared with your essence, and perhaps a few of it even landed on his chin and his nose. However, your appreciation session on the man's features are cut short when he rips open the condom hiding in his pocket, swiftly stripping himself off his pants until his dick is finally sprang out in the open; tall and leaking with pre-cum.

He rolls the condom around his shaft, and before you know it, he's already forcing you down on his lap where your soft walls gain contact with the tip of his cock.

"Gonna fuck your pretty little pussy with my cock, baby. You want that?"

You mewl in response, eagerly nodding as you visibly bite your lower lip. Spreading your slick all over his tip, you steadily sink yourself around his girth, eliciting a guttural groan between the two of you. For a moment, you can feel the wind knock out of your lungs from how full you felt. Your walls kept themselves snug around Jungkook's veiny shaft, and he swears, he's losing his composure faster by the second.

"Fuck," he lowly whimpers when you finally bottom out, large hands settling on your hips to slowly drag you up again. Your pussy already leaves a trail of dribbling slick down the length of his cock, and it definitely earns a hiss to come out between Jungkook's teeth.

He helps you in riding him, a lewd yelp falling off your pretty lips when your hips crash down on his thick thighs, causing his tip to kiss the top of your cervix inside. Soon enough, your pace becomes increasingly desperate, as what seemed to be mildly moderate a few seconds back turns to a merciless wrath of Jungkook's cock roughly fucking into your dripping cunt.

"Jungkook!" You cry his name in utter bliss before the weight of your head gives in, leaning on his shoulder for support as you unknowingly drool on the taut muscle. He growls animalistically, fucking you with full force and great speed which leaves the air humid, and the sound of skin slapping and wet squelches of your pussy fill the quiet space of his penthouse.

A staccato of breathy moans spill out from your lips like a waterfall. His cock was covered in your slick, shimmering in your thick arousal which only heightened Jungkook's stimulation.

"God, look at you—your cunt is drooling all over my cock, baby. Wettest pussy in the fucking world, shit—"

Your walls clench from his words, another wave of your juices gushing out from your pussy. No one else can make you hornier than the man fucking you right at this very moment. His brows are furrowed in concentration, mind unable to think of anything else aside from his cock rearranging your guts. He's practically pierced everywhere, and the fact that he has a full-sleeve tattoo covering the whole of his right arm only aids on to your arousal.

He catches you momentarily staring at him, and he only simpers at you. "Fuck, like what you see, baby?" The clench you do confirms your thought. "Yeah, I know you do, baby. Your cunt is so fucking wet for me, isn't it? Such a good fucking cunt, taking dick so obediently, yeah?"

"S-So good," you mewled on his shoulder, breathing becoming labored when his tip repeatedly nudges your sweet spot. The obscene noises increase in volume, which encourages Jungkook to remain consistent with his thrusts.

Everything feels messy and sticky down below where your arousal has certainly reached Jungkook's balls, covering them in white as some of it land on your ass where they clap in motion of his rough thrusts.

Jungkook swears to God that he's losing it every minute, feeling his climax build up faster than usual, too lost in the incredible sensation of your tight walls clinging onto his length for dear life. Oh, and was he extremely whipped for the way you keep creaming around the base of his cock as if you're marking him as your own. He tries to hold back the fighting orgasm bubbling within his gut, but you just had to keep him snug against your warm folds for one last time until he's eventually reaching his breaking point.

"Shit, baby, your cunt's so fucking good I think I'm gonna cum soon—" He draws out one last whine before he's filling up the thin latex material. He breathes heavily, knowing that he's never been the one to cum first during sex. Feeling his dick immediately soften, he pushes you off his cock and pulls the condom off his shaft, hastily flipping you around so he's the one on top of you this time. He grips your knees to force your legs wide, kneeling down so his face is directly in front of your dribbling cunt.

"You haven't cum yet, haven't you, angel?"

"N-No," you stutter, sensing the proximity of his face between your folds.

"Sad you didn't get to cum on my cock, but my fingers will do the trick for now."

Before you could even fully react to his statement, he's already plunging three long digits in your warm cunt, plunging them inside and out at a swift rate that has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull in an instant.

"Holy shit, pussy still so fucking tight even after getting split open with my cock." He bites his lip, pleased with the wet noises your cunt makes whenever he digs them deep within your cavern. You throw your head back as if you're floating on clouds, eyes giving in as you surrender to Jungkook's fingers finishing you off.

"Such a good girl," he coos, "taking my fingers like your pussy's made for them."

You can feel your high lingering in your lower abdomen, that familiar knot beginning to form and Jungkook detects it right away. You almost lost it when he began to increase the speed of his fingers, but what has you screaming in such a pornographic manner is his mouth sucking your clit ferociously.

He laps on your clit like a madman, desperate to reach your climax. Your legs begin to profusely shake, and your screams morph into pleasurable sobs that have Jungkook smiling against your heat. You're flooding more and more juices on his hand, his tongue aiding to your fast-approaching orgasm.

"Don't stop, don't stop, pleeeaasseeee, don't fucking stop!" You pant wildly as your hands fly to his soft locks, gripping on them for dear life to lock his mouth in place of your clit. Jungkook was absolutely shameless for loudly slurping on your wetness, flicking your clit with his tongue simultaneously which brought the cherry on top for your orgasm.

"So good, I'm cumming, shit—"

He temporarily pulls away from your cunt. "Go on and make a mess all over my face, pretty girl. You did so, so fucking well for me."

With that, he sucks on your clit for one last time before your vision fades to black. A large wave of your wetness gushes out of your pussy, forcing his fingers to pull out which has him aiming for your clit right away. He rapidly rubs your clit, groaning in satisfaction with the mess he caused.

"Damn, angel, you just fucking squirted all over me."

You're panting heavily, unable to register anything that Jungkook's saying to you, for the recent orgasm you experienced has just hit you in the head like a truck. Your body is still twitching due to the overstimulation, but Jungkook didn't seem to care at all.

Jungkook appreciates how your pussy appears to be more glossy from how much you squirted, licking his lips in temptation before leaning in to swipe a fat stripe of his tongue from the bottom of your folds to your gorging clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, taking the pleasure nonetheless.

How can you ever make him stop when this man is an absolute fucking sex god?

"Fuck, your pussy's so sweet, baby," he whines on your folds before proceeding to flick his tongue left and right at a rapid pace. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves open, for the only sensation you yearn to keep is his mouth working wonders on you. Your moans increase in both volume and pitch, and you swear the man eating you out like a whole buffet is about to pull another mind-boggling orgasm out of you.

He only adds on to your rapture when he inserts three of his slender digits inside you again. You gasp loudly, legs profusely spasming to the point where you can't keep them open anymore. You attempt to squeeze your thighs between Jungkook's face, which causes him to forcefully pry them open when he growls on your pussy.

"This cunt will be the fucking death of me, angel," he chuckles, planting a soft peck on your clit contrary to the merciless motion of his fingers. "Make a mess one more time for me, sweetheart, hm?"

"I-I can't," you sob, nails clawing on the fabric of the couch as you feel your climax flying to its peak. "Too much..!"

"You can and you fucking will," he growls again, and the vibrations felt on your heat is what triggers another mind-shattering orgasm to crash down on you. Your legs wail around from the strong intensity, but Jungkook held you still. His mouth remains unbothered when you spill your juices all over his lips, happily lapping up on your remains.

The overstimulation makes you shudder, and your cunt at this point is overly sensitive from the continuous motions of his wet tongue. "T-Too much." You use all of your remaining strength to push his head away, and you're thankful he did, only to land a wad of spit onto your sensitive cunt, anyway. He rubs the small bundle of nerves in slow, circular motions, which makes you whine.

"Jungkook, I really c-can't anymore," you whine, and he finally separates himself away from your cunt despite the addiction coursing in his veins. He leans down on your face to pull you in one last tender kiss. Your taste has definitely made its mark on Jungkook's lips, evident when he tangles his tongue with yours.

He's the first to pull away before things become more heated again, abruptly carrying you in the air with his taut arms to bring you to his bedroom. "You should look at yourself, pretty," he snickers, "You look fucking adorable in my arms like this."

You blush at his comment, shying yourself away from his gaze which Jungkook merely chuckled to. He brings you to his bedroom where he provides you with the most tender care you've experienced in your life, gently cleaning you up here and there with a wet tissue as well as giving you a generous donation with one of his shirts to keep you warm.

Jungkook was never a big fan of aftercare, preferring to keep things casual by letting whoever he hooked up with leave right away. However, seeing you laying there, exhausted from everything, gave him this strong urge to cradle you in his arms in an instant, which makes him exactly do that.

In tangled sheets, you and Jungkook sleep through the night with your limbs intertwining one another. He couldn't exactly place the blossoming sensation in his chest, but he decides to brush it off, thinking it'll all wither away in the morning.

Boy, was he wrong.

After last night

After last night, I think I'm in love with you

The next day, Jungkook wakes up next to the large empty space of his bed. At first, he could hardly remember everything that occurred last night, until the memories all came crashing down at him at once when the image of your face appeared in his brain.

His heart hammers the moment he thought about the long, yet ephemeral night he spent with you. His first instinct is to get up from bed and call out your name, thinking you're still somewhere within his residence.

"___?" He's been chanting your name like a broken toy, searching for every part of his penthouse. To no avail, though, it seems you have left Jungkook alone without bidding him a proper farewell. The only trace of you he has is the small note you wrote placed on top of the counter. It merely stated about you leaving extra early for personal reasons, saying you enjoyed the night with him nonetheless.

However, Jungkook feels himself pouting when you didn't bother leaving a number for him nor any sort of connection that'll have him talk to you again. He reminisces about the valuable time he cherished with you last night, remembering even the smallest details of you. His favorite feature of yours is definitely your smile, following the sound of your giggles echoing through his ears. You possess the plumpest lips that are worth dying for, and definitely the belle of the party last night.

To top it all off, you also had the sweetest pussy he's ever laid his hands on.

He didn't realize that he's been staring into empty space for the past few minutes, immediately blinking away any thoughts of you before deciding to proceed with his daily routine.

A lingering sensation of longing for you still remains in his chest, though. And it's slowly driving him to madness.

After last night, he's probably in love with you for all he knows.

Woke up and I can't get you out of my head

After last night, I don't know what to do

Jungkook has never seen himself be this crazy for a woman, let alone it being after a supposed one night stand.

Did you perhaps cast a hex on him? Your face haunts him even during the middle of daylight. You're like an addiction he can't get rid of no matter how hard he tries. You come to him like you were meant for him, and he can't help but be simultaneously overwhelmed and amused from how much he's thinking about you.

He can't think straight from how much you've been conquering his mind throughout the day, spacing out every minute and so to cling onto the last traces of you by solely remembering you.

Jeon Jungkook is absolutely head over heels for you.

(Baby, you've got to tell me)

When I'm gon' see you again

On the couch is Jungkook endlessly scrolling through his phone, checking out every social media app possible to possibly find you and gain contact with you for the sake of his remaining sanity. It seems like fate has been on the wrong side with him when he's unable to find a hint of you no matter how thorough he searches.

He can only sigh when his hope begins to plummet. Perhaps you were only meant to be another mere one night stand that'll add on to Jungkook's promiscuous history and nothing more. After all, you were aware from the very beginning that a man like Jungkook can't be trusted, thus making you leave before you could possibly get attached to the man.

However, after last night, he doesn't bat a single eye to any other woman whenever he's out with his friends.

After last night, you're all that takes up most of Jungkook's mind.

After last night, he began doing the craziest shit all because of you.

After last night, Jungkook only clings onto one question for the following weeks of his life: When is he going to see you again?

after last night (two)

#bts #bts smut #bangtan #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #fanfic

3K notes · View notes

reiding-writing · 6 months

Text

erotomania [ s.r ]

01 - exhortations

Summary:

You’d found yourself with a stalker, one who seemingly had a romantic obsession with you, and you had no idea what to do, except maybe confide in one of your team members.

WARNINGS: Signs of stalking, mentions of break-ins, fears of violence, mentions of panic attacks

pairing: spencer reid x gn!bau!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, mild fluff

wc: 6.8k

main masterlist!!

a/n: so… i decided to start a series- considering chapter length it’ll probably only be three parts and i hope to have them out once a week but knowing my college schedule i’m not sure about that 😭

thank you guys for all the love on my other uploads <33

series masterlist!!

01-exhortations, 02-avoidance, 03-revelations, 04-confession

It started with a rose.

A single white rose left haphazardly on your doorstep.

You didn’t really think much of it, your neighbours had a white rose bush they regularly pruned, and you figured the wind must have blown one of the loose roses cut from it over to your porch.

You’d often find scattered petals and wilting rose heads on your lawn, blown over by the wind to no fault of the old couple living next door. Although you did have to admit that a full rose was something that had never blown over before.

But hey, sometimes these things happen right?

That was the same rhetorical question you asked yourself two weeks later when a blank envelope was posted through your letter box alongside your regular mail. It looked like a birthday card, the envelope a pale yellow and closed shut with a small white sticker in the shape of a rose. Curious.

You debated on whether to open it at first, not wanting to accidentally intrude on somebody else’s private business, but after a few days of deliberating you came to the conclusion that reading what’s inside might help you find the intended recipient.

You didn’t find anything of note in the envelope, just a folded piece of white paper with a typed out romantic poem imprinted on its inner side. It was odd for sure, but it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You ended up throwing the envelope away. As much as you would’ve liked to have delivered it to its rightful recipient there just wasn’t enough information for you to do so. You just guessed that it was a teenager trying to romance one of their classmates and had posted their efforts through the wrong door.

It was harder to brush off the new succulent lining your kitchen windowsill.

You’d come home to your house after four days spend in Iowa on a case, absolutely exhausted. So much so it took you three separate trips in and out of your kitchen to realise that the three succulents usually lining your window had now been increased to four.

At first you just thought it was your exhaustion getting to you, but you knew for a fact that you’d only bought three. Garcia had made you pick them out specifically. And this new fourth one didn’t fit in.

You examined the new succulent closely, trying to figure out where it came from. It was a vibrant green colour, with small, round leaves that formed a rosette shape. Unlike your other succulents, this one had delicate white flowers blooming from its centre. It was a beautiful addition to your collection, but you couldn't help but wonder who had put it there and why.

You carefully examined the plant for any clues. There were no tags or labels indicating its origin, and it seemed to blend in seamlessly with the rest of your succulents, as if it had always been there. The thought of someone entering your home while you were away sent a shiver down your spine, but there were no signs of forced entry or any other evidence to suggest foul play.

You unfortunately didn’t have much time to mull over this new addition to your plant collection as the team were whisked away on another case, less than 24 hours after your last case finished.

Still, you couldn’t seem to get the small white flowers of the plant sat upon your windowsill out of your mind, and you were starting to question your sanity a little. Were you sure that you hadn’t bought four? Maybe you had. Maybe it’d been there the whole time.

“If it isn’t my favourite profiler, don’t tell Derek that,” Garcia almost immediately backtracked as she picked up the phone. “What can I do you for my sweet?”

“Hey Penny, just a random question, you remember when we went plant shopping a while back?” You held the phone up to your ear with your left hand, using your right to continue jotting down notes on the portable whiteboard the Montanna Police Department had provided your team with for the case you were working on.

“Oh of course I do my love. Why, Looking for a professional suggestion for your next addition?” You could practically hear Garcia’s smile through the phone as she spoke.

“No Pen, I just wanted to check something,” You let out a small chuckle at her exaggerated confidence in her knowledge of plants. ”Did I end up buying three succulents or four?”

“Three my love, two Chinese Jades and one Opalina I believe. Why’s that?”

“Oh no nothing, I was just checking which ones I’d bought with you and which ones I’d bought myself, thanks Pen,” You didn’t know why you felt the impulse to lie. Maybe it was your subconscious telling you that it was in fact you who had put the plant there. That you’d just been so busy that you’d forgotten about it. Either way you didn’t want to stir up the pot if you couldn’t prove anything was actually wrong.

But you also couldn’t rid of that feeling in the pit of your stomach that rose when Garcia confirmed you hadn’t bought the plant when out with her.

“Alrighty, anything else you need from her majesty of all knowledge?”

You give another small laugh at Garcia’s manner of speech. “No Pen, thank you.”

”Well then my dear, this lady’s got other fish you fry, I’ll catch you later,”

You hear the end dial through your phone before you can respond, a usual end to a phone call with Garcia, and whilst her little quips and jokes left you with a small smile on your face, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

A pale yellow envelope.

You feel a sense of deja vu when you pick it up from the floor on the inside of your front door, seemingly slotted through your letterbox just like the former had been, white rose sticker holding it closed and all.

The difference this time however, was that when you turned the envelope in your hand it had your name inked on the front, scrawled out in a messy cursive that stained parts of coloured paper black, the ink having bled as the name was written from the sheer amount of pressure used.

That’s the moment that you started to panic.

You could put the signs together by now. A perfectly de-thorned rose on your doorstep. Messages posted through your door. A new succulent left in your kitchen after you’d expressed interest in them. It wasn’t just a series of coincidences, they were signs. Signs of something you didn’t particularly want to think about.

The last one was the worst. It meant that whoever had taken it upon themselves to form a fascination with you had somehow managed to get inside of your house whilst you weren’t there.

You triple checked the locks on your doors that night, leaving the new envelope unopened on your kitchen counter.

You ended up taking it to work the next day, tucked away in your messenger bag and left under your desk as you tried to distract yourself through with your files.

You tried to convince yourself that you were just overthinking. Maybe the indented recipient of the letter just happened to have the same name as you. Maybe this was just the last two weeks of continuous stress was just taking it’s toll on you and making you paranoid. You tried to convince yourself. But you knew.

“Excuse me,”

Your internal monologue was cut off by a soft voice, and your mind was momentarily wiped of your dilemma as you looked up towards the source of the noise, the small receptionist from the front of your floor.

“This was dropped off last night, I believe it was for you.”

In her hand was a small rectangular package, wrapped in brown paper, and she held it out to you with a small smile.

“Oh, thank you,” You return her smile with one of your own, taking the package from her hand and watching her retreat back to her desk. You weren’t expecting anything delivered, were you?

Unwrapping the package only left you more confused. It was a leather bound copy of Romeo and Juliet, the cover a deep red and embossed with with gold roses and an intricate border, the book’s name embossed in a similar fashion in the cover’s centre, although flaking in some areas from the wear of the book.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned the book over in your hands, but as you opened the front cover that expression fell straight back into concern. A small rose, etched into the inside over in a black ink pen, fit with a single letter, ‘R.’

“Hey Spencer, uh- can I- borrow you for a sec?” You stand from your desk, walking around the cluster in the bullpen to stand behind Spencer’s, head buried in the files he was working on.

“Of course, what’s up?” Spencer took a second to look up, folding the folder closed and leaving his pen inside to mark the page. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah uh- I uh- Were you expecting a book delivery?”

You held the book out towards him, eyes silently pleading for him to say yes. A part of your brain still denied the inevitable, that it wasn’t some outside person who had been leaving things around for you to find. That there wasn’t someone who knew where you lived, and now where you worked, sending you eerily creepy ‘gifts’.

Spencer inspected the book in his hands, examining it closely with narrowed eyes.

“Not that I know of...” He looked up at you, eyebrow slightly raised as he handed the book back to you. “I already have this copy at home,”

Your stomach dropped a little when he confirmed it wasn’t his.

“Right, sorry,” You take the book back from him with a pursed smile, holding it in both of your hands and tapping your nails against the back cover.

You logically knew it wasn’t for him, Spencer was all for buying things second hand, but he would never pick up a book with this much wear and tear unless was a first edition owned by some prolific scholar, the spine damaged and the pages folded and scrawled with annotations that you weren’t sure you wanted to read, but hearing the confirmation just made it sink in a little further.

“Are you alright? You seem a little tense.” Spencer’s voice cut you out of another internal spiral, and you gave him a quick nod.

“Hm? Oh yeah i’m alright, thanks anyway Spence,” You give him a small smile and a half wave as you retreat back to your own desk with the book in hand.

Spencer stared at you for a moment longer, watching as you sat back down at your desk, discarding the book behind your stack of files as if you couldn’t bare to look at it any longer.

Something seemed very off with you.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

My fire, my flame,

My one and the same.

Swiftly swinging from life to end,

Through the times, we meet again.

My lover, my friend,

My mirror, my mend.

My fire, my flame,

No darkness can tame.

Ochre to blue, two as one.

Never unbroken, never undone.

Healing the hurt, flame dims down.

Fire prevails, doubt it drowns.

Forever and true, I am your blue,

The one you felt, the one you knew.

Drunken to sober, you are my ochre,

The one who inspires all my desires.

Over and over, we dance again,

Swiftly swinging from life to end.

It was nearly midnight, and yet you felt wide awake.

A part of you wanted to sleep, lay in bed and pretend that nothing was happening, but you knew that your mind wasn’t going to let you.

You’d sucked up the resolve to open the envelope you’d stored away in your bag, another poem left inside. Except this time instead of being typed out and printed, it was written in the same ink that had adorned its sleeve.

Some of it was barely legible, but you found the words ingrained in your mind almost as soon as you read them. They were sweet from a surface level, a message of true and eternal love, but under your circumstances the only emotions that it evoked from you was a mix of dread and fear.

Your mind soon flickered over to the book you’d left on your nightstand, and you soon found yourself curled up under your duvet with the book in hand, lamp left on both to aid your reading and provide you with a small sense of security in the warm light it cast over the walls of your bedroom.

The narrative of the story was what you’d expect, the traditional tale of Romeo and Juliet, but that wasn’t what you were interested in, it was the annotations, written in the same handwriting as the poem left discarded on your coffee table.

It seemed like a lot of references to love, mainly to the female protagonist in Romeo and Juliet, and you noticed that your initials and “R.” were written a lot.

It seemed that whoever had taken a liking to you really liked you... a little too much.

There were references to your personality, how much you loved things like animals, reading books and eating dark chocolate. They had even written that your favourite colour was burgundy.

You were starting to find this rather unnerving.

The part that really sent you over the edge into a panic was one line in particular, underlined so many times that there was a small rip in the page.

These violent delights have violent ends.

The book in your hand was soon replaced with your phone, held up to your ear as took in slow breaths through your nose.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You heard Spencer’s voice ring through your phone.

“Hey uh, I’m so sorry to call you so late but uh- Can I ask you for a favour?” The tone of your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, not at all aided by the small tremble of your hand.

“Yeah of course, anything for you, what is it?”

“Can I uh,” You hesitate for a second. “Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer responded quickly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I just, don’t want to be on my own right now,” It wasn’t exactly a revelation. There had been a few instances where tough cases left the team feeling more comfortable spending the time after in the company of someone else.

Most of them had family or lovers as their comfort, but in the case of Spencer, not having any contact with his father and his mother institutionalised, and your parents living across the country, you often found comfort in each other instead.

“Thank you,”

It seemed like you wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

“It’s no problem at all, I’ll see you soon?” Spencer’s voice was soft and understanding, and you found yourself increasingly grateful for his insomniatic nature.

“Yeah, see you soon…”

You let out a small breath of relief as you hang up the phone, piling some things into a backpack, tattered book included, before locking up the house and driving to Spencer’s apartment

The drive there seemed to be one of the longest drives of your life, constantly deliberating with yourself on whether to confide in Spencer about your theory. Part of you wanted to tell him, you knew with an outside objective view alongside his intelligence that he’d be able to find you a solution, but you also didn’t want to burden him.

When you reach his apartment, you knock on the door twice. “Spence?”

The door unlocked almost before you’re finished knocking, and Spencer stands on the other side, dressed in tardis pyjama pants and a black t-shirt, his brown hair a little flattened, presumably from tossing around in bed trying to get comfortable.

“Hey,” He stepped aside to let you in, adjusting the crooked glasses sat over his nose.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you so late, thank you for letting me come over-“ You blurt out a hasty apology for your intrusion as you take your shoes off at the door and slump down on Spencer’s couch, dropping your bag on the floor next to you.

Spencer followed you with his eyes as he closed and locked the door behind you. “It’s totally fine, it doesn’t matter if it’s 2pm or 2am, you’re always welcome, you know that,”

Spencer smiles at you before asking, “So, what’s going on?”

“I think I’m being stalked-"

The words almost melded together with how fast you spoke them, and it’s only after the whole sentence leaves your mouth you realise that you’d blurted out the thing you’d been mentally fighting over telling him or not.

Well, so much for dealing with it on your own.

Spencer’s smile immediately disappears, being replaced with a look of concern. “Stalked? What do you mean? What’s been happening?”

You sigh softly at Spencer’s expression. There was no backtracking from this now. So you start right from the beginning.

“Well, a few weeks ago I found this perfectly pruned rose on my doorstep,"

Spencer listens to your explanation with a small nod. “Right…”

“But I wasn’t like concerned or anything because my neighbours have a rose bush, and I figured it was just the wind or something. You know, sometimes that kind of stuff happens right? But then over the last few weeks things keep turning up and I know that it’s not normal you know?”

Spencer’s look of concern only grows as you begin explaining, and he took a seat next to you on the couch. “What kind of things have been showing up? Apart from the rose?”

“Like two-ish weeks after the rose thing, there was an envelope posted through my door alongside the rest of my mail, and I ended up opening it because it didn’t have a name on the front and I wanted to to figure out who it was for right?”

Spencer gives you a small nod as a gesture for you to continue.

“I thought it was a birthday card at first, but I’m pretty sure it was a poem, it was just typed out and stuck in the envelope, no names or addresses or anything. So I just threw it out and moved on. I figured it was some teenager who’d posted a love note through the wrong door.”

You use your hands to gesture your explanation, your right leg bouncing absentmindedly as the nervous tension builds up in your body.

“And then after the case we had in Iowa I came home and instead of three plants on my kitchen windowsill there was four. And that was when I was like ‘okay something’s not right here’, and I even rang Penny to check and she confirmed that I’d only bought three,”

Spencer raises a brow, his expression furrowing further if that was possible. “Wait, it turned up in your house?”

You give him a small nod. “I checked all the doors and windows and everything but there was no evidence that anyone had broken in, and by this point I’m like genuinely questioning my sanity over whether I’d actually just bought this stupid plant myself and was freaking myself out over it, but then yesterday evening after I got home from the Airport I found another envelope by my front door, same colour, shape and everything, they even both had the same sticker keeping them closed, but this one had my name written on the front of it,”

By this point, your explanation had turned into more of a ramble, and by the time you had reached a comfortable place to stop, you were feeling short on breath.

“And you opened it?”

You respond to Spencer’s question with a nod, brushing a piece of hair from your eye. “I opened it an hour ago maybe?”

“And it was another poem?”

You give Spencer another small nod in affirmation at his prediction.

“Okay, what else? Did anything else happen?” Spencer’s hand reaches out towards the curve of your knee, effectively halting the nervous tic you’re using to release your tension.

“Well, I showed you this earlier-”

You bend forward to pull your backpack up onto your lap, rifling through it to pull out the worn copy of Romeo and Juliet to present him with it once more.

“it was left at the office’s front desk which half makes me want to believe that it’s not related, but I was reading the annotations earlier and they’re really specific and I freaked myself out which is why I called you in the first place-“

Spencer’s brows crease under the rims of his glasses as his eyes pour over the book’s cover again. “Who left it for you?“

“I don’t know Spencer that’s my issue," You sigh softly as you turn the book over in my hands. “Can you just read through this for me please? I didn’t finish it because I freaked myself out and then immediately came over here so-“

You over-explain your reasoning for wanting him to read through the book for you, figuring that if you could give him a valid reason then you would feel less guilty about asking him to do it in the first place.

Spencer takes the book from you hands whilst you’re still explaining yourself, beginning to flick through the pages one by one, pulling his middle and ring fingers down the page as he scans over the writing.

It’s times like these you’re thankful that Spencer’s reading speed is 85 times faster than the average person’s, and you find your eyes following his fingers as he traces them over the pages, taking note of how he bends his middle finger ever so slightly so that his fingertips are level with each other and how he keeps his index finger raised away from the paper’s surface. It was oddly distracting to watch.

It takes him little more than five minutes to have read through the whole thing, with him stopping a few times along the way to make a couple of comments as he does.

“Well he makes reference to your favourite colour, and your birthday...”

“....your job...”

“...and of course your name.”

“Jesus, the guy’s really obsessed with you isn’t he.”

You furrow your face as Spencer confirms your concerns, rubbing your hands over your legs as a self-soothing technique.

Spencer thinks again for a moment as he shuts the book in his lap. “I think you should spend the night here.”

You can see his gears are turning, the same cogs turning when he’s deep in a profile. He’s gone from being concerned to calculated. “No way in hell am I leaving you alone tonight.”

“I don’t wanna burden you this is a me problem-“ You immediately shut down his suggestion despite you having stayed at his apartment on multiple occasions in the past.

You’d gotten an objective opinion on the situation. That was all you wanted. You didn’t need to drag him any further into your personal issues.

“Hey no,” Spencer shakes his head as he places the book down on the small oak coffee table in front of you. “You’re not burdening me, okay? You don’t have to be alone tonight, you can sleep here.”

“I’m not letting you leave now,” Spencer adds with finality. “You’re clearly anxious, and you look like you need to get some proper sleep.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at Spencer’s insistence, flickering your eyes over to the book on the table, its embossing glinting slightly under the warm overhead light.

He might not exercise it often, but Spencer definitely knew how to put his foot down when he needed to.

“Thank you…”

“Hey, look at me?” Spencer waits until you look at him, then he offers you a soft, reassuring smile. “...Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

You give him a short nod with a pursed smile, not entirely convinced of his assurance but wanting to go along with it anyway for the sake of being able to calm down enough to at least get some sleep. “Okay,“

“Let’s get you set up for the night. We’ll talk this through in the morning.”

Spencer stands up, pushing himself up from the sofa with his hands and leaving into the bedroom. “Get as comfy as you’d like okay? I’ll be back.”

He turns to leave then stops at the door and looks at you one more time. “Oh, and... do you want to borrow one of my T-shirts?”

The invitation was obvious. “Uh yeah if you don’t mind…”

He gives you a small nod as he retreats into his bedroom, re-emerging a few minutes later with a fleece blanket, one of the pillows from his bed, and a black T-Shirt identical to the one he was wearing. “Here, my couch probably isn’t the comfiest place to sleep but-”

He hands the T-shirt over to you with a small smile, stacking the blanket and the pillow on the end of the sofa.

“Don’t be silly Spencer, I’m grateful for you even letting me in let alone letting me stay over on such short notice,” You return his smile with one of your own as you take the shirt from him, retreating into the bathroom to change into it.

You feel the soft cotton against your bare skin as you pull the fabric over your head, noticing that it’s been washed recently, and it still has a slight smell of Spencer’s cologne. It falls quite low, Spencer having to have bought a bigger size than he realistically needed due to the length of his torso.

Your mind continues to run rampant as you exit the bathroom, a mix of the overwhelming stress of your situation and the conflicting feeling of serenity from the solicitude radiating from Spencer.

It was a lot to process for it to be just 1am.

You basically collapse onto Spencer’s couch, burying your head into his pillow with a groan and unfolding the blanket to throw it over yourself.

“If you need anything, anything at all just wake me up okay?” Spencer continued to express that kind compassion that made your chest tingle a little, definitely not helped by the faint scent of his cologne radiating from his pillow, joined by a trace of lavender, most likely an essential oil he’d been using in the hope it would help him sleep better.

“Yeah, thank you again Spencer, it really means a lot.” Your voice is half muffled by the angle of your head against the pillow as you crane your neck to look at him.

“It’s really no problem. You’re always welcome,” He switched off the small lamp keeping the living room, dimly lit, allowing it to fall into a comfortable darkness. “Get some sleep okay?”

“Yeah, thank you Spence…” Spencer gives you one last smile, joined by a half wave that you found more endearing than awkward, before leaving for his bedroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

For the next half hour or so you lie awake on his couch, trying in vain to sleep despite the rampaging thoughts running through your head. It was only when you heard Spencer open the door and quietly enter the room that you finally turned your head to look at him.

The surprise on his face told you that he hadn’t expected you to be still awake. “Why are you still up?”

“My mind’s running a million miles a minute, why are you up?” Your voice is partially hoarse from tiredness, and you shift around on the couch until you are lying facing in his direction.

“Just wanted to get a glass of water…” Spencer purses his lips slightly as his eyes trail over the position you’re lying in, clearly feeling a sad-sympathy at your mind’s insistence at you staying awake. “Hey, can I try something?”

Spencer slowly makes his way over to where you’re lying, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of you.

“Sure?” You raise an eyebrow slightly, rubbing one of your knuckles over your eyelid. Spencer smiles at your reaction, extending his hand palm-up.. “Alright... can I have your hand please?”

“Should I sit up?” You extend your right hand towards him, using your left to prop yourself up onto your elbow.

Spencer shakes his head. “No, no, keep being comfortable... I think I know how to fix your problem.”

Spencer then reaches out and takes your hand firmly in his, holding it between both of his hands with your palm facing the ceiling. “Ready?”

You give him a short nod in expectancy, eyes flickering between the way his hands hold yours and his eyes as you lie on your back.

His hands were frigidly cold compared to the warmth of his apartment, but you couldn’t say that it was uncomfortable, it was actually quite soothing, a nice contrast from the small cocoon of warmth under the blanket.

Spencer slowly rubs his fingers on the inside of your palm, adding a gentle pressure first to the bases of your fingers and working his way down slowly, pressing the pads of his fingertips into your skin in small circles. “Close your eyes and breathe deeply.”

You follow his guidance with no hesitation, relaxing back into the pillow beneath your head and closing your eyes as you focus on the feeling of Spencer’s fingers dancing over the palm of your hand.

“Just breathe in and out....” You can hear the confidence in his voice as he continues to move the pressure downwards, pressing his thumb against your wrist and gently massaging it.

“A lack of sleep is usually the cause of delayed melatonin production, and studies have shown that certain pressure points on our bodies can help speed up the process.” Spencer begins to explain the reasoning and process behind the gentle hand massage he’s giving you, his voice soft and quiet.

“It was traditionally used in China as a part of acupressure, with six identified pressure points on our bodies that encouraged the production of serotonin and melatonin to help with relaxation and reduce chronic pain, but in the present day it’s been adapted into a massaging technique to help people fall asleep.”

The softness of his voice paired with the gentle massaging of his fingers on your wrist quickly left you feeling more relaxed.

“There are two pressure points on different points of your ankles, one point on each foot, one between your eyebrows, one behind each of your ears, and one on each of your wrists.” You find yourself nodding along to his explanation absentmindedly as you enjoy the gentle pressure of his fingers.

“Although, the only pressure points that have been reliably linked to melatonin production are those on your wrists and behind your ears, here, lie on your side for me.” Spencer gives your wrist a gentle pull to encourage you to turn over, which you very gladly oblige to, humming a soft agreement as you turn to lie of your side facing him with your eyes still closed.

He gently slides his hand up the side of your neck, the coldness of his fingers sending a small shudder up your back, and he presses his thumb into the small gap between your jaw and the rest of your skull, rubbing it in slow circles.

You let out a small, almost inaudible sigh at the gentle pressure he’s applying, and Spencer can tell that you’re quickly falling into full relaxation. “The best results from acupressure occur after 3 - 5 minutes of continuous pressure and…”

His voice trails off slowly as he feels the tension in your jaw release, and he glances down towards your face, a small smile adorning his features at your relaxed expression. “…is best done in a comfortable environment…”

He continues to rub gentle circles into your skin for the next few minutes before gently removing his hand from you, standing up from where he was sat on the coffee table with a soft smile still gracing his features.

“Sleep well..” He whispers the words under his breath as he slowly retreats back to his bedroom, the glass of water he originally sought after completely forgotten about.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’d been a few days since you’d confided in Spencer about the stalking situation and stayed the night with him, and fit with a new set of locks on your doors, you’d gone back home to stay on your own.

You walk into the BAU office expecting to see Spencer at his desk like always, ready to talk through your next steps forward with him, except he wasn’t there. You check the watch on your wrist. 7:45. He should’ve arrived by now. Why wasn’t he here?

"Hey uh, do you know where Spencer is?" You approach Morgan over at the kitchenette, leaning against the counter top with your elbow.

“Good morning to you too lover.” Morgan gives a half-laugh at your lack of your usual greetings, making sure to throw in a tease about how the first thing you talk about is Spencer’s whereabouts, not something entirely unfounded considering how close you and Spencer had been getting over the last week or so.

“Ha ha very funny, do you know where he is?” You respond to his quip with a slight roll of your eyes.

Morgan shrugs his shoulder slightly, taking a sip of his freshly made coffee. “Maybe he slept in,”

“Spencer Reid? The man with four wake up alarms?” You furrow your expression slightly. Something about Spencer not already being in the office didn’t sit right with you.

“Okay okay, maybe that was a bad guess, but I don’t know, who knows what he might be doing,” Morgan remains nonchalant if not a little heedless. “Maybe he stumbled on an antique Russian novel collection on the way to work or something,”

“He’s never late for work-“ You mutter to yourself under your breath, half-ignoring Morgan’s attempts at explaining Spencer’s lateness, and you pull your phone out of your pocket, dialling Spencer’s number and holding up the phone to your ear, the consecutive rings echoing out of your phone’s speaker.

Pick up Spencer.

If anyone on the BAU team would know Spencer’s whereabouts, it should be the two of you. And yet neither of you had any clue where he was.

The phone continues to ring until it reaches his voicemail. there’s no answer.

Something was wrong.

You try to call him again. Nothing. This was not like Spencer at all.

Your anxiety spikes as your subconscious links his lack of answering back to your stalking situation, What if Spencer was in danger? What if this stalker had followed you to Spencer’s apartment that night you stayed with him and now knew where he lived?

The minute your brain made the connection you were turning on your heels to exit the office, grabbing your car keys from your desk as you did so.

“Hey-” Morgan follows you over to your desk, putting an arm out as you try to walk past him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Spencer’s apartment.” You try to push Morgan’s arm out of the way, only for him to block you with his entire body instead.

“Slow your roll there turbo, everyone is late every now and again, that doesn’t mean we have to turn up to their house out of nowhere.” Morgan’s explanation would be logical under normal circumstances, but he didn’t know that you were being stalked. Nor did he know that this stalker had possibly found Spencer’s address due to your own stupidity leaving him in potential danger.

“Listen Morgan I appreciate your apprehension but I do not have time for this right now.” You manage to swerve your way around Morgan and push your way out of the glass doors of the BAU office, bee-lining it down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator.

“Hey! Wait up!” Morgan’s voice echoes down the stairwell as he runs out of the office after you, only managing to catch up to you as you stop to unlock your car, and he blocks the door from opening with his hand. “What is going on?”

“Morgan, if you want to ask me questions, get in the car.” The tone of your voice leaves no room for argument, and Morgan can tell be this point taht you’re not alright, so he gives you a short nod and goes around the front of the car to get in the passenger’s side.

Please be okay, please be okay...

That’s what’s going through your mind as you leave the BAU building, running the speed limit as you drive towards Spencer’s apartment with an awful feeling in your stomach.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on or what?” Morgan begins his questioning as soon as you hit the main road.

“I think Spencer is in danger.” You keep your eyes trained on the road, both hands braced against the steering wheel as you turn a roundabout.

“Okay, listen.... I’m with you in the fact that this is very out of character for Spencer... but there’s no use in jumping to conclusions, okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, clearly concerned at how fast your mind linked Spencer being late with him being in danger. “Let’s just approach this calmly and rationally.”

“I am being rational.”

“No you’re not, you’re panicking,” Morgan gives your shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Just take a deep breath and a second to think.” Morgan’s voice was full of a calm, soothing reassurance even as you were clearly anxious. “You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack if you don’t.”

“I know I know I’m fine-“

You open your palms against the steering wheel as if to emphasise your point, exhaling heavily through your nose as you pull into the parking lot of Spencer’s Apartment building, leaving your car parked at an angle across two parking spaces.

You’re thankful in this moment that Spencer lives so close to the office building, and you shut off the car quickly, exiting it with the same haste.

Morgan follows closely behind you as you jog across the concrete towards the entrance of the building, locking your car remotely as you pushed the outside door open and started your ascent of the stairs.

“Come on, calm down you don’t need to run-” Morgan called after you as he followed you up the stairs, continuing to try in vein to get you to take a step back and just calm down a little.

You didn’t listen of course, and you only come to a halt once you’ve reached Spencer’s apartment door.

You reach out your right hand to knock as Morgan reaches your side, but as your knuckles come into contact with the wood of the door it creaks open, the hinge pin of the door not fully closed.

Oh no.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #erotomania

684 notes · View notes

andvys · 7 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 16

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of drugs and alcohol, a painful flashback, mean!Steve

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: As you get closer and closer to your birthday, you are taken back to a painful day.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @mysticmunson & @hellfire--cult thank you for listening to my rambles and helping me with ideas and inspiring me more and more to write this fic 🤍

series masterlist

In the months after Steve had left you, you had never felt as miserable as you do now, which is surprising, considering how happy you were in the past few weeks before you had gone on that stupid date with Ray. Not only did that night trigger every bad memory, every negative feeling that you have pushed away for months, you had also made it worse by calling him.

You shouldn’t have called him, you wouldn’t be dealing with all these messed up feelings now if you had just stayed at Rick’s place and waited for Eddie to come back out of the house instead of running off and calling your ex boyfriend.

You shouldn’t have gone to see him on Sunday when you finished your shift at the record store, you should have just gone home but your stupid heart led you there to make it hurt even more when you saw him with her, how gentle he was with her, how happy he looked with her.

You feel as though you are back to square one.

Seeing them together shouldn’t be this hurtful, you should be used to it by now but your feelings are just so hard to ignore. Seeing the way he treated her reminded you of the way he never treated you – only in the first few weeks of your relationship was he this gentle and sweet with you.

When his gentle touches turned into rough ones and the softness in his eyes disappeared, you knew that something had changed, but you were so in love with him, you didn’t care how badly he treated you when he stopped being the Steve you once knew.

You stare at the pages in your book with a blank expression on your face. You are not reading, you are not taking notes, you are not focusing the way you should be. No, your mind is too busy recalling every painful moment that you have had with him.

Heather puts her notebook down, throwing her pencil on the bed, she lets out a groan as she stretches her arms out. Chrissy glances at her as she tears her eyes away from her book. While you and Heather study for finals, she is catching up on her favorite novel, her finals aren’t until next year as she had to repeat second grade after she had gotten sick and missed too many school days.

Heather looks at you, a frown appears on her face when she notices the expression on your face.

“Y/n?”

You blink, furrowing your brows as you look up at your friend, “yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

No.

You shrug and close your book, “yeah, why?”

Heather isn’t convinced and neither is Chrissy who watches you with worried eyes. She had noticed that something is off with you, after spring break, something had changed and you are now more distant than before and it’s not just that, you are also very quiet. Just like you were after your breakup with Steve.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Heather says.

You feel bad for lying to them, for not telling them things that you would have told them a few months back, but you still aren’t the only one who keeps secrets.

Without thinking, you push your sleeves up, accidentally revealing the fading bruises around your wrists. Heather notices them right away, her eyes widen and a gasp falls from her lips. Chrissy furrows her brows at her friend before she notices what she is looking at, she places the book down and straightens up to see what had shocked her friend so much.

When you see the confused and shocked look on Chrissy’s face, you realize your mistake and quickly push your sleeves back down, as though it will reverse your mistake.

“What the fuck?”

“W-What is that, what happened?” Chrissy asks, worriedly.

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing, you shake your head.

“Nothing happened,” you mumble and get up from your bed after pushing the books off of your lap. You leave your room, desperately wanting to escape this situation but of course they follow you, calling out your name bewildered.

“That’s not nothing, y/n!” Heather says angrily as she follows you downstairs.

“I fell,” you mumble, coming up with the weakest lie ever.

Heather snorts in disbelief, “and I’m supposed to believe that?” She asks, almost yelling. You don’t take her anger to heart, you know that she is worried.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Heather,” she mumbles, trying to calm her down.

You turn on the lights in the kitchen, blinking rapidly as you feel tears of frustration building up. You try to distract yourself by reaching for the newspaper on the counter, a flyer from some pizza place at the new mall is laying on top of it.

“A-Are you guys hungry?” You ask, without looking up, “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving. We could order a pizza, there’s a new place, Surfer Boy–”

“Y/n,” Chrissy says, quietly as she walks towards you with a look of concern in her eyes.

“We could order different kinds,” you say, still hoping to be able to change the subject of the conversation despite knowing that it’s a lost cause.

Heather crosses her arms over her chest, her brows are knitted as she looks you up and down.

“What happened?” She asks again.

Chrissy turns around to send her a warning look, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Chrissy says as she places her hand on top of yours, trying to give you reassurance.

You narrow your eyes, trying to hide your tears as you give her a small smile.

“You always tell us everything, y/n,” Heather says and for the first time you hear sadness in her voice, sadness and concern. “Since when do you keep secrets?”

Her question irritates you and it sparks the anger inside of you. You snap your head up and look at her with raised brows, “I don’t know, you tell me.”

She looks a little taken aback at your words, surprised even. Though, her eyes flash with guilt. She doesn’t say anything this time, neither does Chrissy and when you look back at her to see her avoiding your eyes, you can’t even help but scoff.

“What are you guys not telling me?” You finally ask the question that’s been on your mind for months now, “what are you hiding?”

Chrissy mumbles your name with a pleading voice, her cheeks glow red, she looks embarrassed.

“You do know that you’re doing the same shit that Steve did to me, right?”

Heather can’t even look into your eyes anymore, she looks down.

“He did that too, he kept secrets, he didn’t talk to me, he didn’t tell me anything, he kept lying to me a-and then it all got too much and he spilled everything to me the moment he had one too many drinks – is that what it takes for you to be honest with me? D-Drinks? Do you need to get drunk too to tell me that you don’t want to be my friend anymore?”

Both of them raise their heads to look at you, shocked and confused as though they can’t believe that you would think that of them.

“What!?” Heather asks, raising her voice, “you think we don’t want to be your friends anymore? What the hell, y/n? You are the one who pushed us away!”

“Because you are both keeping secrets! You whisper behind my back! You don’t tell me shit anymore! What do you expect me to do? To sit there and wait for you to leave the way everyone else does?” Your voice breaks and once again, your tears spill. You can only huff in annoyance when you feel your wet cheeks, “for fucks sake,” you whisper as you wipe away the tears in anger.

Chrissy looks down, she had never felt this guilty before. She knows it’s because of her. The secrets and the whispers. It’s her fault that you feel like they don’t want you but she is scared, so scared to lose you if you find out the truth but right here is where she realizes that she will lose you either way.

Heather’s eyes soften and she looks at you with a frown.

You step away from Chrissy and turn away from them, you place your hands on the counter and look out the window.

“We are not leaving you, y/n,” Heather says, walking towards you, “we would never leave you, you’re our best friend.”

You try not to show how bitter you are, how angry and hurt you still are.

“Doesn’t feel like it, Heather.”

“But she’s right,” Chrissy says with a shaky voice, “we would never leave you.”

You are so sick of the tears, of the pain, of all of this.

Heather and Chrissy share a look and you watch them with narrowed eyes.

You wipe the fresh tears with your sleeves and turn around, leaning against the counter as you look at the blonde, who stares at you with nothing but fear in her eyes and suddenly, you feel guilty for the outburst you just had.

“I’m sorry,” Heather whispers as she reaches for your hand, “I’m sorry we made you feel that way but you are still our best friend, even when we’re not yours anymore.”

“Yeah, Eddie stole that title,” Chrissy mumbles, rolling her eyes when she says his name. She leans against the counter beside you and looks at you with an apologetic look in her eyes and the guilt. The guilt is not very hard to miss.

You know that she is hiding something, something that Heather knows about, something that she doesn’t want you to know. It hurts, she used to tell you everything, now Heather is the only one she confides in and as hurtful as it is, you have to respect that.

“You are still my best friends too,” you murmur and lower your head to hide the pain, “I’m sorry for getting so mad.”

Heather sighs, she rolls her eyes at her own outburst, “I’m sorry too, you don’t have to tell us what happened but just know that we are here for you.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy whispers as she once again reaches for your hand, this time, you squeeze her hand back.

You know that they want to know what happened or better yet, who happened. You don’t want to talk about Ray or the date and the awful things that happened, least of all what happened afterwards when you decided to call him.

“I went on a date with Ray.” You say after a beat of silence.

Their eyes widen with both shock and confusion.

Chrissy opens and closes her mouth, no words come out.

“Ray Parker?” Heather asks, still confused. She saw you with him, at the bonfire party but she didn’t think anything of it.

You nod, clenching your jaw.

“Yeah.”

You feel a shiver running down your spine when you think about that night.

“Turned out that he never wanted to go on a date with me, he just wanted to fuck. I-I didn’t want to, I didn’t even want to go on a date with him, I don’t know what I was thinking,” you ramble as you quickly want to close the subject again, “H-He was very persistent and he kept trying but I pushed him away, nothing happened, luckily.”

Chrissy holds her hand in front of her mouth and Heather looks at you in disbelief.

They see the fear in your eyes and how shaken up you still are.

“What the fuck,” she mumbles, angrily. “He did that to you?” She asks, pointing to your wrists.

“Yeah but it’s okay, it’s–”

“It’s not okay! I’m gonna cut his dick off!” She says, throwing her hands up, “and his balls too!”

“Count me in,” Chrissy says with an angry frown in her soft features. “I hate men!”

You can’t help but snort as you bury your face in your hands.

“This is not funny, y/n!” Heather says, nudging your shoulder, “why do you always go for the worst guys?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

Heather is seething and so is Chrissy, that’s why you didn’t want them to know. It’s bad enough that the others know that Eddie and Steve went after him, that they risked getting in trouble with the cops.

Heather keeps mumbling curse words under her breath, while Chrissy tries to make sure that you are feeling okay.

“Do you know where he lives?” Heather asks, “did you go to the cops?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to know where he lives, you don’t want to go to the cops. His wealthy parents won’t let anything happen to their precious son besides, you hope that he learned his lesson after what Eddie and Steve did to him.

Heather and Chrissy might think that it’s Ray who causes you to feel this way, it’s not. It’s Steve, it’s always Steve who is on your mind. It's him who is making you feel like you are not okay because he is once again, haunting you in your memories, in your dreams, in everything.

He is haunting you.

Heather keeps asking questions and it’s starting to make you feel sick.

You close your eyes when you suddenly feel lightheaded, you pinch the bridge of your nose and take deep breaths.

“Can we please just not talk about this?” You ask, interrupting Heather’s ramble, “I-I don’t want to think about it anymore. Besides, it’s been taken care of,” you mumble the last part.

“Wait what?”

“What do you mean?” Chrissy asks, “what’s been taken care of?”

“Eddie and Steve, t-they went after him.”

Chrissy stares with wide eyes and Heather looks at you, confused.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Eddie and Steve?”

You nod.

“I’ll tell you everything but can we first order some food?”

Chrissy notices the pale look on your face, the shakiness in your hands, the tired look in your eyes. She knows. Her eyes meet Heather’s, she nudges her head, raising her brows.

“Yes, of course,” Heather says, reaching for the flyer you looked at earlier, “let me guess, you want pineapple pizza.”

“No way,” you snort, “I only eat it when I’m high.”

“Which happens like three times a week nowadays,” Chrissy jokes.

“What can I say, my weed man is really good.”

Heather laughs, “a very bad influence,” she points out with a smile on her face, “I’ll go order the pizza,” she says before she walks out of the kitchen.

You clear your throat and turn to Chrissy, who is already watching you. There is still concern in her eyes and you desperately want her to stop worrying.

“Chris,” you mumble as you grip her hand tighter, “don’t worry about me.”

She frowns at your words, how can she not worry about you?

“You thought that we don’t want to be your friends anymore.”

“It’s okay, it was a misunderstanding–”

“I will– we will always want you to be our friend,” she says, “it’s always been the three of us, y/n.”

You smile, sadly.

“A-And, I just want you to know that it’s not about our friendship with you or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

She swallows nervously and she runs her fingers through her blonde hair, looking at anything but you, she blushes and it makes you wonder.

“I-I just, Heather isn’t hiding anything from you. T-There’s something that I can’t tell you yet but I will,” she says, looking at the floor, “when I’m ready, okay?”

She is scared of losing you, scared of pushing you away with whatever she is dealing with.

You nod, “of course.”

You are worried about her, about what she’s keeping from you, about what she is so nervous about. You take both of her hands in yours and step closer to her.

“Hey,” you whisper, “can you look at me?”

She raises her head a little, looking at you through her bangs.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, you don’t have to be scared,” you say, rubbing your circles on her skin, “I’m here and I’ll always be here, no matter what, okay?”

She nods, a smile tugs at her lips.

“I didn’t mean to get so angry, I’m sorry.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I understand it.”

“But we’re okay, right?” You ask.

She nods, eyeing your face with a sad look in her eyes, “of course, we’re okay.”

“Good.”

“Good,” she repeats your words with a smile.

“Hey guys, some guy named Argyle was on the phone! Never heard that name before,” Heather says, laughing from the living room, “he sounded cute.”

You and Chrissy look at each other with furrowed brows before you burst into giggles.

The bruises have faded away, your skin looks healed again, you can finally wear skirts and t-shirts after weeks of hiding in sweaters and jeans. The weather is warm, the sun is shining and the flowers adorn the pretty fields of Hawkins, finally. It’s nearing the end of April and you’re getting closer and closer to exams and the final day of school. You can’t wait to get out of here.

You are staring out the window, watching the white clouds move in the blue sky, you drown out the voices in the classroom, the laughter of Tommy and Carol as they gossip, as always.

The past few weeks haven’t been easy on you, you have been trying to avoid him but everywhere you go, you see him, it reminds you of the way things were after he dumped you. Only this time, he tries, he really tries to sneak his way back into your life, you don’t let him – you want to but you don’t let him. Yet, you can’t help but love every little moment you have with him – passing by him in the hallway, seeing the way his eyes light up when you flash him a small smile, you don’t let it confuse you but, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach either.

You will forever regret the date and the call. That night changed everything. You were okay, you were okay without him. You were sure that you had moved on. You were sure that you did not want him anymore. You were so damn sure. Yet, here you are, unable to stop thinking about Steve Harrington.

Someone places their books on the table, picking the seat next to you. You don’t turn around to face whoever it is, not caring. But, when you smell his cologne, you tense up and your heart skips, you don’t need to look at him to have all these feelings rushing through you.

You look away from the window, you lean back and finally turn to look at him. He looks good, the way he always does. He is wearing a black sweater, his sleeves are pulled up, you notice a silver bracelet around his wrist, you haven’t seen before. His knuckles are healed, no bruises litter his skin any longer but there’s a scar that hasn’t been there before. You wonder what he told her when he sported the bruises on his knuckles and on his temple.

He doesn’t say anything, he just flashes you a small smile and looks away when the teacher walks in.

Why does he sit here? Why next to you?

You force yourself to look away too. You hate the beating of your heart. You hate the way you feel when you smell his cologne, the stupid smell of Farrah Fawcett spray, you hate the way it feels to be so close to him.

You try to focus on class, you try to write down notes, you try to think about anything but him beside you.

Steve has other plans though when he slides his notebook over to you after scribbling something on the blank page.

You turn to look at him with a questioning gaze but he is not looking at you, he is looking at the blackboard, pretending to listen to Mrs Jones.

You look down at the notebook.

‘Hi’. He wrote with a smile next to it.

You can’t help but snort quietly.

He smiles to himself, narrowing his eyes to look at you.

You take your pen, shaking your head as you write a ‘hey’ before you slide it back to him.

He glances at the teacher before he begins writing. Mrs Jones isn’t paying attention to you, the elderly woman is too busy writing on the blackboard as she taps her heel against the ground.

You bounce your knee, pressing your lips together as you look at anything but him. You dig your nails into your palms as you wait in anticipation. When he slides the notebook back to you, you glance at him for a moment before you look down.

‘How are you?’

You wonder if it is a conversation starter or a genuine question but, when you find him looking at you with a soft eyes, you have your answer.

‘I’m good, you?’

Steve knows it is a lie.

‘I’m okay. Can you believe that we’re graduating soon?’

You smile at him and shake your head.

‘No. Are you still becoming a basketball star?’ You write down.

You watch the way he shakes his head with a blush on his cheeks. He leans down, putting his hand on the table as he writes.

'Not good enough to be a basketball star.’

You raise your brows in question, pressing your lips together.

What happened to his confidence? You wonder.

‘You were always good enough, Steve.’

Steve stares at your words for a long moment, his brows knit together and for a second, he lets the sadness take over. He never felt good enough.

‘Not for this. Are you still becoming a stripper?’

When you read the question, a giggle bursts from your lips before you can stop it. You always used to joke about it, telling him that you would become the best stripper in town.

There is not a single strip club in Hawkins.

You clasp your hand over your mouth and your eyes widen when you realize how loud your giggle was. Everyone is now looking at you.

Steve presses his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Is there anything you want to share with the class?” Mrs Jones asks, raising her brows at you as she stands there with her hand on her hip.

You shake your head.

Steve snorts a little when he glances at you, you are staring wide eyed at the teacher with a blush on your cheeks. Cute.

You kick his foot under the table and he has to hide his face behind his head when he laughs quietly.

“Pay attention!” Mrs Jones says, pointing at you with her finger.

You nod, “yes ma’am.”

She glares at you before she turns away.

“Asshole,” you whisper to Steve before you reach for your pen again, ignoring the prying eyes of some of the cheerleaders and of course, Tommy and Carol, you don’t have to turn around to know that they are staring.

‘No, I want to be a groupie now.’

Steve shakes his head, of course, you would say that.

He changes the topic, though it’s a mistake, a very big mistake.

Steve doesn’t know that you are haunted by memories of him.

Your birthday is soon, any plans?’

You are already struggling. Why did he have to bring this up? Why did he have to remind you of your last birthday? Why?

You stare at the words on the paper for what feels like forever. You hate your birthday, especially the last birthday.

You remember the way you felt that day, you remember the way you waited for him, thinking that he would surprise you. You didn’t want a party, you didn’t even want a cake but Heather and Chrissy had still made one for you, they spent the afternoon with you, they gave you presents, ate cake with you and offered to take you out to dinner but you said no, because you knew that he would take you out for dinner and surprise you with the locket you have told him so many times about. The locket you had seen when you passed by the little jewelry store, he was with you, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you laid eyes on it for the first time, he knew you wanted it and you thought, you really thought that he would get you the necklace. You could have bought it yourself with the credit card your dad gave you before he left but you wanted it to be something special.

Steve did not take you out for dinner that night, in fact, he didn’t spend the night with you, at all.

You want to cry just thinking about it.

You waited and waited, you sat by your window and looked out, waiting for him to finally arrive. You put on the pretty sundress that you had bought when you went shopping with Chrissy. You did your makeup and your hair the way he always liked it.

With your hands in your lap and excitement still lingering on your face, you waited.

Your eyes lit up when you saw his car pulling up to your driveway, you jumped up and rushed over to the mirror, taking one last look at yourself before you rushed down the stairs with a smile on your face.

You opened the door just as he was about to unlock it with the keys you gave him.

“Hi!” You said, unable to fight the smile off your face.

Steve was holding a small box in his hands, you thought you knew what was in there.

“Hey babe,” he said but his voice did not match your excitement.

He walked in and closed the door, handing you the box. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “happy birthday,” he said with a smile that could only be described as forced.

Your own smile began to fade a little when you noticed the disinterested look on his face, you looked down at the little box. Did he give you what you wished for? You had wondered.

“What took you so long?” You asked as you looked at the clock, it was 7pm. “I’ve been waiting for you, Stevie.”

“I was getting ready for the party.”

You furrowed your brows and looked at him in confusion as you could already feel your heart dropping.

“What party?” You mumbled, “I-I told you that I don’t want–”

“No, I know.” He said, “I know you didn’t want to throw a party, I mean Tina’s party.”

You couldn’t believe him. He knew, he knew you did not want that. He knew you wanted to spend the night alone, with him.

“I-I thought we could do something else, it’s my birthday, Steve.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, happy birthday,” he said with fake enthusiasm in his voice, “now let’s go celebrate it.”

Your shoulders slumped, you opened your mouth to speak but quickly closed it again. You stared at him in disbelief as your eyes began to well up with tears.

“But, I thought we could go out for dinner.”

He scrunched his face up, snorting, “what are we forty?” He said, “come on, get your stuff, we’re leaving.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head as you looked at him with sad eyes and a pout that always pulled at your lips, naturally.

He huffed.

“Man, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You said with a small voice, frowning.

“Like that,” he mumbled, pointing at your frown, “that’s fucked up.”

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run upstairs and crawl under the sheets, you wanted to escape this.

“W-Well, you can go to that stupid party. I’m not going.” You pushed the box back in his hands and brushed past him, walking up the stairs as you began to remove the clips in your hair.

“Babe!” He groaned.

“You can go, Steve. I’m not feeling well anyways,” you lied and continued your way up the stairs, still hoping that he would follow you, that he would change his mind and apologize, that he would take you in his arms and kiss you, that he would take you out to dinner, that he would kiss you under the stars and put the necklace around your neck but he never did.

Just as you walked into your room, you heard the front door shutting and his car starting just moments later.

Despite how he had acted before, you didn’t expect him to leave, but he did. He left and you spent the evening alone with a bottle of Whiskey your dad left behind, you drank and you cried, missing the boy who used to protect you, who used to love you. You stayed in your dress and listened to David Bowie and then, four hours later, he came back but you wish he never did.

The memory of that night still hurts, it all hurts.

‘No, you know I don’t celebrate my birthday.’ You write down in bitterness.

Steve looks guilty, he feels awful for what he did on your last birthday. If he could turn back time and change it, he would.

You can’t help but look at him, and you see it, you see the guilt and the sadness and the anger he feels for himself but it does nothing to ease your pain. It still hurts so much.

‘Can I come over, the night before?’

It’s a tradition you have had since you were children. He would always sneak into your room and give you his presents at midnight. He didn’t do it last year. Why now? You are no longer friends, you are no longer a couple, you are not even acquaintances at this point.

Are you a fool for saying ‘yes’? Maybe. Do you care? No. Apparently, he still has you wrapped around his finger.

He smiles at you and closes the notebook when the bell rings. You wonder if he will throw the page away or if he will keep it. You would. You hate how giddy he still makes you feel, you hate the butterflies that still flutter in your stomach, why won’t they die?

You leave the classroom together but neither of you say anything, you just glance at each other before you go separate ways, he flashes you one last smile – his is certainly much brighter than yours, yours is still etched with pain.

You make your way towards your locker to retrieve your backpack and your jacket. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone moving towards you and when you turn your head, you see that it’s Chrissy.

A smile tugs at your lips.

She looks determined, her eyes are set on you, she isn’t smiling and as she gets closer, you notice how nervous she looks.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you smile, “what’s up?” You ask, curiously when she still refuses to smile.

Her hands are pressed together and she looks at you with uncertainty in her eyes. She fidgets with her shaky hands.

“I-I’m ready to talk.”

You did not expect to hear that from her. It’s been weeks since she admitted to keeping something from you and not once did you pressure her to talk, you did try to reassure her that nothing could drive you away from her but she still needed time.

“You are?” You ask, looking around the crowded hallways.

She nods, licking her lips as she stares at you.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” You reach for your backpack and pull the strap over your shoulder before you reach for her hand, “come on.”

You can feel how nervous she is, how clammy her hand is, how shaky it is as she grips yours tightly. It makes you a little anxious. What could possibly make her this nervous?

You leave the school and walk towards your car.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” You ask.

She shakes her head, looking down as she lets go of your hand to walk to the passenger side.

“Okay, uh, the lookout?” You ask.

“Y-Yeah.”

You nod and unlock your car, you throw your backpack in the backseat and reach for the sunglasses in your glove compartment. You glance at her, noticing how nervous she still is as she bounces her knee.

“Chris, don’t be so nervous,” you say, trying to reassure her, “if you wanna talk about your position on the cheer squad, you can absolutely have my spot as the captain,” you joke but she doesn’t laugh, she only cracks a small smile.

You figure that nothing you will say will make her any less nervous, the only thing that will help is talk about whatever is laying heavy on her heart. So, you start the car and you turn on some music, hoping that it will calm her down. You drive to the lookout, you always used to go together. Back when you had only gotten your driver license, you, Chrissy and Heather would always come up here and have a little picnic, you would take pictures of each other with your dad’s polaroid camera.

You miss those days. The simpler days.

You both get out and sit on the hood of your car, looking down at the small town you live in. From up here, it looks so much smaller than it actually is.

“I– I don’t know how to tell you,” she starts after a long few minutes of silence.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask as your take your hand in yours.

She blinks. The wind blows through her hair and she looks down to avoid your eyes.

“That you won’t be my friend anymore.”

“Chrissy,” you whisper, holding her hand tighter, “we’ve been friends since we were little kids, what makes you think that I’d stop being your friend?”

She shrugs.

“You and I, we're best friends for the rest of our lives.”

She rolls her eyes, “except you got Eddie now.”

“Eddie isn’t a girl though, I still need my girl best friends – hey, are you jealous of Eddie, is that it?” You chuckle.

Her eyes widen and she tenses up, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her cheeks take the color of your red skirt and your smile falls as you stare at her reaction in surprise.

“I-I, no! I’m not–” She stutters and her voice gets high pitched.

“Wait, y-you don’t like Eddie do you?” You frown.

She almost looks taken aback by your question and she draws back, scrunching her face up as she shakes her head, “what!? No!”

Your shoulders slump in relief.

Her reaction is almost comical, if the circumstances were different, you would probably laugh at the twisted mouth and the disapproving look in her eyes.

“I don’t like him,” she says, shaking her head, “I don’t like people like him.”

“Oh,” you frown. Is that it? Is that what she is keeping from you? She doesn’t like Eddie? She doesn’t like your best friend? She doesn’t like his reputation and your reputation?

“N-No!” She huffs, rolling her eyes at her choice of words, “I don’t mean it like that, I don’t mean him in general, I-I mean – fuck.” Her shoulders slump and she closes her eyes when she feels the tears welling up. “I don’t like men – I don’t, I’m not into them! I like girls,” she says, quietly.

Oh.

Your lips part in surprise and your eyes widen but you finally relax and the tension in your body leaves. You were so worried about all the possibilities of what she could be hiding from you, out of all of them, you did not expect this.

She is shaking even more now and you hold her hand tighter in response.

“Chrissy,” you whisper and scoot closer to her.

When she hears your soft voice and feels your even softer touch, she manages to open her eyes again and looks at you through her tears.

“You scared me to death!” You mumble before you pull her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. “I thought you were hiding something bad!”

You hear her sniffle first and then her sigh of relief as she melts into your touch and hugs you back.

“I-I, you’re not, you don’t think it’s weird?”

You scrunch your face up and frown, “why would I think that it’s weird?” You mumble, still hugging her.

“‘Cause some people think it’s weird.”

“Fuck them,” you whisper, rubbing her back and squeezing her tightly before you pull away from her. You look at her soft features and smile, “I’m sorry you were so scared to tell me but I hope you know that I would never judge you, you’re my best friend and I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes light up and she smiles, “you are?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling.

She presses her hand to her chest as she sighs in relief again, closing her eyes.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?”

And just like that, her smile fades away again and she looks at you with the same sad eyes you saw one too many times already. This time, it doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, the signs were always there but as always, you were too blind to see them, just like you had been blind to so many other things in your life.

She was always protective of you, more so than Heather was. She was always a little giddy around you, nervous and shy. She was always more affectionate with you than anyone else.

And then you remember Carol’s words, what she said – or tried to say about Chrissy before Heather intervened.

God, you feel like a fool.

Life passes by you and you don’t even notice. Where is your mind at all the time?

Chrissy’s eyes are filled with sadness and the same fear as before, she doesn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. The look on her face confirms it all.

“Oh Chrissy.”

“I-It’s okay, y/n,” she whispers, “please don’t pity me, it’s just, it will pass.”

You tilt your head, you can’t help but look at her with the same look that lingers in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and look down at her hand.

“No, I’ll be fine, really,” she says, “just promise me that nothing will change?”

Your chest aches and it hurts to know that she is hurting because of you.

“Because that’s all that matters to me, that you are still my friend.”

“I am,” you reassure her again, “I promise.”

She nods at you, not letting her tears spill. She smiles at you again before she scoots closer to you.

“Thank you.”

You shake your head and wrap your arm around her shoulder as she leans her head on your shoulder.

“No, thank you for trusting me,” you whisper, “and for everything.”

She smiles up at you when you fix the green bow in her hair and run your fingers through her ponytail.

As the silence takes over and you both listen to birds chirping and the wind that rustles the leaves on the trees, you hold onto each other a little more tightly when she finally relaxes, knowing that she will always have you, no matter what.

And you feel the tension leaving when you realize that you had nothing to fear when it came to her and Heather.

“Hey, you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I saw Heather making out with Billy in his car.”

“No way!” You gasp, laughing.

“Yeah! And then she acted like nothing happened!”

You giggle, cupping your hand over your mouth.

“Apparently they were high. She bought weed from that pizza guy.”

“What was his name again?” You ask, laughing.

“Uh, something weird–” she mumbles with a concentrated look on her face.

“Ar– Argyle!” You exclaim.

“Yes, Argyle!”

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @taintedcigs @hellfire--cult @screammunson @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader

852 notes · View notes

chimcess · 3 months

Text

Waterlog || pjm (1)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, Age Gap!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 17.4k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), talks of a bad car accident, talks of drunk driving (please drinking responsibly), more than likely wrong swimming terms and poor understanding of how the Olympics actually works (I did so much research, pls be nice to me lol), strong language, lots of mental health discussions, reader has mommy and daddy issues, Older reader, Jimin is a complete sweetie, the tamest chapter of them all A/N: Well, well, well, look who came back. I first wrote Waterlog back in 2021, and while I enjoy the premise, I hate the finished product. I wanted to go back and edit/fix what I originally had, but when I tried it became so different, I was better off rewriting the entire thing. I hope you guys like this mini-series. If you would like to read the original go to my blog archive. Thank you for reading!

masterlist || next || playlist

Staring at the pool, I managed to calm myself with relative ease. Jin had been right, physical therapy had made things easier. The water glistened prettily in the lights, and I waited with bated breath for my trainer to come in.

Emery was a sweet guy, pretty with a lip ring and tattoos, but with a surprising amount of shyness it was laughable. His softness was offset by his powerful muscles, and I enjoyed his never-ending sense of humor. Unlike Dr.Maddox, Emery treated me like I was a normal person. Not an Olympian who almost lost her leg in an accident, or the woman whose fiancé died. I was just Y/N, and it was a relief to be around him.

Running my fingers along the scars on my leg, I mindlessly drew patterns around them in the silence. It was not normal for Emery to take this long, but his assistant had said he was running behind due to another patient, so I was unbothered. I had planned my entire day around this, so I was in no rush.

Finally, the door swung open revealing a disheveled Emery. Breathing heavier than usual, he rolled his eyes at me in frustration before saying his pleasantries. Whoever it had been had gotten him worked up.

“Rough morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I hope that woman never comes back here.”

I laughed, “We all have that someone. Don’t feel too bad.”

Shaking his head, I could tell it took restraint on his part not to rant and rave about the woman who had left. Emery and I were more friendly than most. I had been seeing him for over two years now, but we still kept a semblance of a professional relationship. Especially Emery.

“How’s the kids?” He asked, making small talk as we started getting ready for a swim.

I was the coach of a high school swim team in town, something I talked about quite a bit, and Emery always liked hearing about. He was a great water polo player but chose to go into physical therapy while he was in college. After seeing one of his friends get injured and how much physical therapy had helped him, Emery decided to change his major. Four years later, he says he could never see himself doing anything else.

“They’re doing well,” I said honestly. “We got a couple of freshmen on the team, but they’re doing a lot better than I thought they would.”

Emery hummed, offering me assistance getting into the pool. While walking had been mostly figured out, the obvious limp aside, I still had some trouble with getting in-and-out of things. Even my bathtub had to be switched out since I was unable to step over it. I still used the medical chair while in there, too.

The water was cool against my skin, and I felt instantly relieved. The dull aches and pains left as soon as I got into the water. Swimming to my usual spot, I waited patiently for Emery to join me.

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

Going to the edge of the pool, Emery grabbed a set of barbells and handed them to me. Taking them, the two of us went over the workout plan for the day. Pulling himself up on the pool’s edge, Emery picked up his stopwatch and told me to begin.

Getting on the interstate, I sang along to the radio as I made my way to Hoseok’s. The two of us had been friends since high school, our mutual love for swimming making it impossible to keep apart, and only growing with time. He was one of my biggest support systems after the accident. Both of us had retired years ago now, but I remembered our days as Olympians fondly. Those were the best years of my life.

A small group of our friends were getting together at his house to watch the summer Olympics this afternoon. The women’s swimming finals were happening today, and I knew two of the girls competing. Turning on my blinker, I quickly got off the interstate.

Pressing around my car’s radio screen, I went to my contacts and pressed Andy’s number. She was off today and in charge of getting everything together. Hoseok had tried to do it himself, but always seemed to forget who should do what and ended up buying everything himself. She picked up after the fourth ring.

“What’s up, sugar?” Andy greeted, her voice soft and light. Her Memphis accent was thick and brought a smile to my face. Everyone had made jokes about her being southern when we first met. “Don’t tell me you’re missing Nationals.”

I shook my head even though she could not see me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied. “What should I pick up? I completely forgot.”

Andy sighed, “You’re just as bad as Jin.”

Seokjin was Andy’s husband. The two of them had been together whenever they moved to Colorado, married before I ever met them, and became quick friends with Hoseok when they moved to the Springs. That was how I had met them. Whenever their daughter Dani was born, Andy had asked me to be her Godmother and I sobbed in her lap. They were my closest friends next to Hoseok. Jin was indeed very forgetful, though, and the jibe made me chuckle.

“Cut me some slack,” I argued. “I’ve been working out for two hours straight.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just get some pizza or something. We’re picking up some wings and Hobi’s in charge of the drinks. Minho and Tilly are bringing… something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Fully laughing now, I saw a Little Ceasars up ahead and got into the correct lane. Minho and Matilda were loose cannons when it came to our parties. While sweet, and fiercely loyal, I found myself wondering why I hung out with them at times. We were night and day personality wise, but I loved them dearly. Minho would probably bring some Korean side dishes from home, and Matilda would pick up a few packs of ramen from the store. Andy was stressing over nothing again. I hoped she was getting proper rest on her days off.

“I’m at Little Caesars,” I told her, parking my car. “I’m going to get the basics. How many things of Crazy Bread should I get?”

She thought for a second before replying.

“Five?” She was definitely unsure about her answer.

It was hard to gauge just how hungry everyone would be, and Jin was a bottomless pit.

“Sounds good,” I said instead, already thinking about getting more.

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Andy,” I unplugged my phone from the charger.

Pressing it to my ear, I pressed my start button and turned it off. I climbed out of my car and started walking to the store.

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

“Love you, too,” I replied. Opening the door, a worker greeted me with a smile. “I’m about to order.”

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I gave the worker an awkward smile before telling him my order. I ended up getting seven bags instead of five. Just in case. Dani really liked the stuff and Jin could smash an entire bag by himself. While I waited for the cheese pizza to come out of the oven, my phone started ringing.

“Hello?” I answered, unable to check the caller ID while the cashier shoved the crazy bread into my arms.

“I heard from a little bird that you’re thinking about competing again.”

I grinned and thanked the cashier as she handed me my other pizza.

“Hello to you, too, Frank,” I replied. “And your little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Hoseok, would it?”

Frank and Sarah Boone had become a part of my life after the accident. They ran a local support group to help those affected by drunk drivers to get connected with resources and therapy. The two had lost their son when he decided to drive home drunk from a party and used the group as their own coping mechanism. They were wonderful people and owned their own joint coffee shop and bookstore in Denver.

“Won’t say names,” He chuckled, “But it might have come from a certain part-timer. So, is it true?”

I placed the boxes in the passenger seat and rounded my car. This was not a conversation I was expecting to happen today. I had brought up the idea to Hoseok since the Olympics were coming up next year, but I was not committed to it. I was enjoying my new job coaching and did not think I was in any condition for competition. When he brought up the Paralympics I laughed. Those competitors were in better shape than I was, and I doubted I would qualify. I was disabled but my disability did not (as far as I knew) carry over into the pool.

“I was just talking shit, Frank,” Backing out of the parking space, I put in Hoseok’s address and started to drive. Switching over to my car’s phone, I put my phone down and looked at the road. “You know I’m happy with my life right now.”

He made a grunting noise that told me he did not really believe me. No one did. All of them were sure I was miserable about my career ending far before its time, and while that may be true, I felt more loss about the life I was supposed to have than winning medals. I missed Namjoon more than any medal. Frank and Sarah understood that.

“I know that,” He cleared his throat, and I could hear the congestion. Frank had come down with a nasty case of walking pneumonia two weeks ago and was still recovering. “Just got a little excited is all. It would be nice to see you putting yourself back out there.”

It would be nice to see myself back in the pool, I could admit that. I had dreams of it at times. Being a competitor was a part of who I was. From the first time my dad took me to my swim classes when I was six all the way until I claimed my eighth Olympic medal, everyone had said there was nothing I hated more than losing. I was fiery, free-spirited, and kept my eyes on the prize. It was the thing Namjoon loved about me the most. That made me frown.

“I left a champ,” I forced a laugh. “Need to save some gold for the rest of them.”

Hiding behind humor was a pastime.

Frank laughed, oblivious to the hollowness in my tone. “Heard they have a new guy taking your place.”

That made me snort, “He’s not taking my spot. Totally different competitions, my friend.”

“Winning gold like you, that’s for damn sure.”

It must be Jimin Park. The kid turned up on the scene a year after my accident. He was a very, very talented swimmer. Fast as a bullet with the best butterflies I had ever seen, Park was a force to be reckoned with in the men’s league. It was a joy to watch him swim and this year would be his first Olympics. Hoseok and I were very excited to watch him.

“If you’re talking about Park,” I chuckled. “He’s far from new. He’s been competing for a few years now. First Olympics, though.”

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

Truthfully, I did not know how old he was. I remember the buzz around how young he was when he first broke out on the scene. He was eighteen when he took home gold all season before a family emergency took him out of the Olympics last minute. No one knew what really happened, but his team had said his brother was in an accident, tragically losing his life, and Jimin was prioritizing his family. He’s competed every year since and with the Olympics next year, I was certain Park would be there. He deserved it.

I was parked in front of the house now and from the cars outside, I was the last person to arrive. Frank and I talked for a few moments. It was cute how much he had learned about swimming so we could be buddies. Sarah was the only person who recognized my face when I first started going to the meetings and her husband was determined to get me to open after weeks of sitting in bitter silence in the back.

We hung up after I promised I would make it to the meeting next Thursday. Frank was not happy about me skipping the past two weeks, but understood I was taking some time to myself. My boys were going to compete this year, I had fought tooth and nail for that funding, and the extra hours at school were exhausting. Jeremy and Evan showed promise, but they knew how to drive me up the wall with all of their simple mistakes.

As I suspected, the party was in full swing. Matilda and Minho were laughing loudly on the sofa, Hoseok sporting a beer in the recliner next to them, and Dani practicing her gymnastics in the middle of it all. I could hear the commentators talking animatedly about the girls, who they believed would come out on top and highlights from the night before, but I never really paid them any mind.

“Pizza’s here!” Minho boomed, practically running to greet me.

I laughed, handing over the boxes, “Need help carrying the rest in.”

Matilda offered, happily taking my car keys and leaving the house. Minho had disappeared into the kitchen. Dani spared me enough attention for a smile and wave before launching into excited pleas for me to watch her new moves.

“Super cool, babe,” I smiled sweetly after her handstand. Dani was not particularly good at gymnastics. She started later than the other girls, rarely did anything she was actively afraid of, and hated her coach. Andy was already looking for a better gym, but I just thought she should start pointing her in another direction. Dani loved dancing and she would be a wonderful ballerina or figure skater if given the proper training. The Kim’s, however, seemed fine watching her deal with gymnastics and cheerleading. “You’re getting better.”

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

Flipping the right way around, her hair coming out of its messily tied bun and falling down past her shoulders. Brown, loose waves made her look so much younger than her eight years, her small stature only selling the illusion even more. Her skin was smooth, and she always looked as though she had been playing outside in the sun, a constant tinge of pink beneath her sandy skin. Her features favored her father, large eyes, long face, and plush, pillow-like lips, but after meeting Andy’s parents, I could see her grandmother hidden within the mischievous glint in her eyes and too small ears.

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked.

She continued to babble away as I made myself more comfortable, kicking off my shoes and tossing my hat onto the small buffet table that sat above the shoe rack. Matilda came back inside, her arms filled with bags of bread, and I took two from the pile. With a thankful, thin-lipped grin, she also complimented Dani’s moves before disappearing around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.

“Dani,” Hoseok seemed to have finally grown tired of hearing the girl talk. I would imagine this was all he had been hearing since he arrived. “Do you want to color with me?”

The little girl clapped happily, her eyes bright and shining, before abandoning her mat to gather a few coloring books and her massive hoard of crayons. Hoseok looked at me then, a sly smile on his face before winking. I chuckled and shook my head. He always did that to make her shut up.

I left the living room before Dani came back. I loved her dearly, but I could admit she talked too much. It was a good thing for a kid her age to be so social but that did not mean I wanted to hear her every waking thought. Andrea and Seokjin were the only parents in our little group, and I imagined it would stay that way for a while. Even if my dreams of children were still alive, I did not have anybody I wanted to take on that responsibility with.

Minho was eating the pizza, as expected, while Matilda had already claimed her own bag of Crazy Bread. Andy and Jin were snuggled up at their dining table, his arms securing her to his chest, and she curled into him. I loved watching them together. I had grown up in a house with two people who hated one another, barely kept up a facade of civility before my mother skipped down to be with her new boyfriend in Florida leaving my dad and I behind in Pennsylvania. We made it work but things were never the same after that. It made me happy to know little Dani would feel the love radiating in her home as she grew up. I had never seen two people so enamored with one another in my life- not even Namjoon and I.

“How was therapy?” Minho asked after we exchanged pleasantries. “Hoseok said you were talking about competing next season.”

I laughed in disbelief. That man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. I said the same thing I told Frank over the phone, and he scoffed. Minho never truly laughed, if I was honest. It was always a snicker, scoff, or chuckle. He was a man of little words and even fewer outbursts of joy, and I found his versions of those things just as reserved as the rest of him. He was the most expressive when he smiled, but those were just as rare as a genuine laugh. Dani managed to squeeze more out of him than anybody else.

“Stop meddling!” Andy scolded the other man from her spot in Seokjin’s lap.

“Never,” My friend replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Never!” Dani echoed, voice louder than Hoseok’s. She was giggling happily alongside him, and I rolled my eyes. He was her favorite. “Never!” She repeated again, pleased when Hoseok laughed. “Never!”

“That’s enough,” Jin’s voice was even and smooth.

Dani did not shout again but we could all hear her and Hoseok attempting to cover up their laughter. Andy smiled fondly. Their little friendship had warmed her heart. After Dani, Andrea had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It had come back six times before her doctor said she needed to get a hysterectomy. She grieved the children they would never have, the large family she dreamed of stolen from her, but once Dani was old enough to walk, she had been glued to Hoseok’s hip.

Hoseok for all he spoke about never wanting children, he adored Dani. His family was small, he and his sister the only children, but they were extremely close. She lived in New York City as a fashion designer and got married last year, and I always had the feeling Hoseok felt lonely without her. Dani was a welcome break from routine and made him feel special. It was sweet but I hoped my friend would find someone to share his life with someday.

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

It was a great day for the U.S. Opal Simmons was one to look out for. She was the oldest woman on the team, a shocking 24, but she could out swim a vast majority of them. Her freestyles were amazing, earning her a gold with Japan just a few points behind. I was hopeful she would be able to come out on top in her distance swim. While not the fastest in the pool, the girl knew how to pace herself. The cameras cut to the shot of one of her coaches smiling triumphantly at the performance.

He was a good friend of mine, Oswald Bunch. He had been heavily involved with the Olympics for years now, promoted to one of the lead coaches back in 2020, but I remembered when he was still competing. A few years older than me, Ozzie was known for his backstrokes and long-distance swimming, and we bonded whenever we got the chance to meet in London back in 2012.

That was my first Olympics. I was a fresh-faced 20-year-old on a mission. My team at the time was stoked to have me around and I was excited to be there. I had built up a solid reputation over the course of two years, winning seven medals my first adult-competitive season, and the high was incredible. Back then, I was always the one to beat at the breaststroke and therefore, the medleys were in my favor as well. I walked away with 4 golds that year, and again in 2016. The accident happened a year later, but I left the competitive world with 8 gold Olympic medals and 19 world champion gold medals. Katie Ledecky held the record now, but for a time, I was the most decorated female swimmer in history. I was excited when I was finally passed up, happy for the younger woman.

Ozzie was the man, but sadly never got out of Michael Phelp’s shadow. It was not his fault. That man was insane in the water and would become the most decorated Olympian ever. Bunch was a great swimmer, but I did not know a single person who could compare to Phelps. Hoseok, maybe, but he only had 12 gold medals. Phelps had 23.

“Simmons looks great out there,” Hoseok praised, a large smile on his face.

“Her butterflies could use a little work,” I murmured back, already seeing how I could fix it with some extra exercises. “It’s slowing down her freestyle. What else is she scheduled for?”

“I think she’s doing the 200-meter freestyles and the medley relay,” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Bunch is banking on her pacing.”

“She won’t win those,” I was positive. “She’s just going to get tired. Breaststrokes are obviously not her thing.”

He laughed, “You’re the breaststroke queen, Y/N. No one's as good as yours.”

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

“Never said she wasn’t,” He sipped. “Her freestyles are killer. Girls could never beat you in breaststroke or a medley. You’re untouchable there.”

It made me smile despite myself. Hoseok was right, those were my competitions. Even if Katie had surpassed my record for most gold medals ever, I still had more Olympic medals than she did, and they were in completely different events. I could have kept my title had the accident never happened. I would have. Even if we were friendly, Ledecky would have been my competition, and I would have fought hard to keep the record.

“What’s Jimin doing this year?” Matilda asked as the women’s scores were posted. Opal would be a strong contender. “Anyone know?”

I nodded, “I haven’t watched every competition, but he’s sticking to what he does best. Didn’t he swim the 200 yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “He’s skipping out today and doing his individual tomorrow. Swimming back-to-back after that. Kid’s a fucking animal in the water.”

I couldn't agree more. As I stared at Opal’s smiling face, her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I wished I had been able to watch Jimin instead. She was cold and impassive even with a large, perfectly white grin that took up most of her face. In fact, I found her quite boring outside of the water. No flair or features that set her apart. Just a tall, well-built blonde with a nice smile. Ozzie would have to work hard to make her memorable.

“Simmons did well,” I yawned. “It’s getting late, though, and I have work in the morning.”

The goodbyes were quick, and Dani made me promise to take her roller skating soon. There was a girl at school making fun of her and she wanted her “super cool” and “famous” aunt to tell them off. We all laughed, and I told her we could go this weekend after gymnastics practice.

My drive home was uneventful. It was already dark out, something that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud, and I never turned on the radio. I preferred to drive in absolute silence, eyes and ears glued to the road. I had only started talking on the phone recently.

I was much worse after the accident. I refused to get inside of a car for weeks and if I did, I was a mess. No one was allowed to be a distracted driver either. No radio, no phone, no conversations. Nothing. Jin had been the default chauffeur during that time and put up with my anxiety better than the others.

It was close to a year before I tried to sit in the front seat again. Another five before I got behind the wheel. For hours I would sit in the garage with my hands on the steering wheel staring off into the distance. I was still in a wheelchair for most of my daily activities and a very obvious limp made me too self-conscious to be seen. Isolating was easy. Keeping the others away was more difficult.

My drives started with me just backing out of the driveway. I went around the block a few weeks later, hands shaking and Andy trying her best to soothe me in the passenger seat. I did not drive past the Whole Foods two minutes away from my house until after the second year. Things were easier after I ditched the wheelchair and got more open to the idea of therapy.

Moving out of Denver was the best decision I ever made, the Springs were easier to drive in and the traffic was not as awful. Andrea and Jin bought in Black Forest once I was settled in Briargate, so loneliness was never an option.

Matilda almost moved in after the housewarming party Andy threw for me. She said it was far too big for one person and the neighborhood was to die for. I laughed her off at the time not really wanting to admit how nice it sounded.

Nestled in Fairfax, my house was a beautiful piece of architecture. The striking brick and wood front exterior provided a warm welcome, with teal trimmings bringing a fresh feeling to the otherwise plain color scheme. With five bedrooms and four bathrooms, I dreamed of the day I was able to fill them all. A dream that I hoped would come before I hit 35.

Pulling up to the house, I waved to Chika next door. The old woman raised her hand, still nursing a large mug of what I assumed to be tea and smiled. They were lovely people and we often helped one another out whenever we could. Chika liked to bring over food if she cooked and I paid my landscapers to keep with their lawn.

“Late night?” Chika called out from her front porch.

“Went to a friend’s house,” I replied.

“Good,” She meant it. “Glad to see you getting out of the house.”

I smiled but was not sure how well she could see my face in the dark.

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

I showered quickly and sipped on a cup of chamomile tea before heading off to bed. After taking my night medications, one to force myself to sleep while the other blocked the never-ending nightmares, I climbed into bed. I was able to play a single game of solitaire before they both kicked in. I fell asleep with the sound of gentle rain humming in the background.

“Let’s go, guys!” I yelled, blowing my whistle.

The twelve boys waited, their small talk coming to an abrupt end. We had just finished warming up and I allowed all of them a short water break. I was a huge advocate for rest periods. No one needed to pull a muscle or fatigue early due to over working. I had a 2800-yard routine prepared, 800 of those done during our warm-ups, and the rest divided between our main set and cooldowns.

Jordan, our captain, was smiling happily. He was such an excited kid, and his positivity was contagious. While some of the boys were disappointed when I first chose him to replace our old captain after his graduation, I was sure his spirit would do everyone some good. It did not take long for the others to come around and he was beloved.

“Alright, so we have a 1600 main set. In between each of our reps, we will be doing a switch out of easy breast and backstrokes. Clear?”

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

“Alright. That's what I like to hear,” Flipping through my clipboard was more for show than anything. I used to rely on it heavily when I first started teaching since brain damage messed with my short-term memory, but I had been doing this long enough to know what was happening. Now it was just a way for me to write notes about their performances. “We’re starting with a 4x100 with 15-second rest; the first 25 butterfly. 3x100 with 10-second rest; again, first 25 butterfly. Following?”

No questions were asked, and a few guys voiced they were good for me to keep going.

“Good. Then we have a 2x100 with 5-second rest. First 25?”

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

“Thank you, Abbot. Okay, and we’re finishing up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy.”

All twelve of them began to prepare to take their mark. One by one they stood on their blocks and waited for me to make the call. I admired them all for a moment. You could see the difference in each one of them. Those who were confident stood tall, their shoulders squared, and head held high. Newcomers were still figuring out their place on the team but were eager to prove themselves. Two of them would be leaving us this year, Gabriel and Marcus, and neither one of them were continuing to swim after graduation. It was a sad thought, but I was happy with how they carried themselves. They had both come a long way.

“Take your mark,” My voice echoed. Each boy got into their starting position as I watched them like a hawk. One of the freshmen, Phineas, needed major work on his form. I would talk to Jordan about it. Grabbing hold of my stopwatch, I took a deep breath. “Go!”

Marcus was the first in, like always, and I ignored him. I knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Phineas was the weakest link in my chain right now. He was struggling, his arms growing tired and his speed nonexistent. The other freshmen, Tobias, or as the guys called him, Twig, was not much better. He had more strength, but I chopped that up to his size. I would need to really start working some more beginner drills to get them in shape. Jordan and Gabriel would be more than happy to give up a Saturday or two to help out.

Marcus was the first one finished and I marked his time. Still a tenth of a second faster than Jordan. After Jordan came Gabriel and then Joseph and Anthony. I was disappointed in Jett’s time, but I would invite him to the weekend practices with the others. He needed some foot and hip exercises. Twig came in before Phineas, but every other boy was already out of the water by the time they made it back. Phineas was visibly upset, and I made a note to pull him to the side after practice to cheer him up.

Practices typically lasted two hours and the boys swam hard. Phineas did, in fact, perk up after I told him I was noticing tons of improvements in his performance. Twig just seemed happy he was not the worst guy in the water. After talking it out with Jordan, we decided on a good weekend time for extra practices, and I stayed behind to print off a poster and signup sheets for the rest of the boys. I had a feeling almost everyone except Marcus would show. He had a part-time job now and his weekends were full.

Sitting in my office, I poured over my observations and timecards. With a team this large I should have an extra set of hands to help with timing. I sent an email to the principal asking about helpers and got back to the nitty gritty.

All of them could work on something. Phineas might have needed the most work, Twig not far behind him, but my most seasoned swimmers had room for improvement. Jett was still struggling with maximizing propulsion, Anthony and Milo needed to get better water balance, and Gabriel’s pull could be better. Even my best swimmers, Jordan and Marcus, could use a bit of refinement in technique. It was nitpicking but they were too talented to give up on their potential.

It was close to nine when my phone began to ring. I knew it could not be any of my usual calls. Andy was working nights this week and Jin was fast asleep at home with Dani. Minho was in bed by eight, Matilda would never bother me this late, and Hoseok hated phone calls. Checking the caller ID, I was shocked to see Ozzie’s name.

“Hello?” I answered tentatively, afraid he might have called me by accident.

“Otter,” Ozzie greeted me happily. He seemed so delighted that I answered, I smiled even though I hated the nickname. “How’s life going?”

I chuckled, “Rockin’ and rollin’. Saw your girl last night. Looks great, Oz.”

“Appreciate it,” He was so dismissive of it I became interested. This was not a catch-up phone call or else he might have hooked onto the bait. My stomach twisted in anticipation. If it was not for pleasantries, then it was for work and that was something to be excited about. “Still teaching high school?”

“Mhm,” I fiddled with my pencil, papers forgotten. “My boys team is strong. I only have three girls that signed up so we’re just training during P.E. and hoping some more join.”

We chatted a bit more about the team. The longer it went on the more knots I had. Oswald was fishing for something, and I wanted to figure out what. After telling him about Phineas, I asked what the random call was about.

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

“Alright, you caught me,” Ozzie sighed. “Look, the Olympic team is looking for another assistant coach and your name came up a few times.”

My mouth went dry. I had heard about Tiara Marsh leaving to focus on her family. She had a baby and stepped down a few months after coming back from maternity leave. I respected the decision and messaged her my congratulations. Ozzie had taken the lead coach position three years ago with Todd Packer as his partner. The other assistant, Drew Jones, was a sweet girl from what I heard and working with her would be a dream.

Still, it was an impossible task. Trying to imagine myself on the sidelines, coaching the next big names in sporting history with a massive squad behind me made my stomach queasy. I doubt any of them respected me. My leg was ruined, my career burned out just as quickly as it started, and I never had the chance to reach my peak. Now I am a 30-year-old washed up recluse. Just thinking about the media frenzy made my breathing get a little heavier.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oz,” I murmured.

“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” He replied, unsurprised. “They’re going to approach Storm Kline instead.”

“Oh,” Now I was confused. “Why’d you bring it up then?”

“Because I got to thinking,” I braced myself. Ozzie was known for his big, bright, dumb, impulsive ideas. “I knew the Olympics would be asking too much of you. Cameras and interviews are the last thing you want after the fucking circus you went through last time.”

That was an understatement. Circus did not even begin to describe the absolute hell the media put me through after the accident. So many speculations and insensitive remarks managed to ruin any peace I could have gotten during that time.

While I was in a coma, no one knowing if I would ever wake up again, the news thought it wise to harass my friends and family. My old coach, Victor Stanley, was assaulted whenever he left the hospital. When news got out that Namjoon was pulled off life support, his mother and father were so sick and tired of people parked outside their house they packed up and moved away before I even woke up. I wanted nothing to do with the media after that.

“It’s a little different but I think you’d be a great fit for the job,” Ozzie continued. “One of my boys, Jimin Park, is in need of a personal coach. His mom is sick and he’s wanting to stay in Michigan for as long as he can before coming out to the Springs to start training for Paris.

“I almost called Jung, but I don’t think the two of them would get along well enough for this to work. You’re the only person I know I can trust with him, and from what I’m hearing, you’re one hell of a coach already.”

This was somehow even more nerve wracking than the assistant position. I had never trained one-on-one before, at least, not long term. I was sure I could do it, but a high schooler was very different from an Olympic athlete relying on me to keep him in shape for the season.

“What happened to Hamilton?” I asked, still unable to wrap my head around the situation. “I thought he was Park’s personal trainer.”

“He was but the two fell out when Jimin decided to stay in Michigan. You know how Matt is.”

That I did. Matthew Hamilton was a massive asshole, and that was putting it lightly. He was one of the best trainers around and got results which was why he still had a job despite his rotten attitude. I had the misfortune of running into him quite a few times over the years and my distaste only grew with each passing. I could imagine that conversation not going over particularly well.

“But what about my team?” I asked, staring at my desk. All of my plans and strategies were mapped out and I was ready to put them to use. My boys were counting on me and leaving them felt wrong. “I don’t want to leave them high and dry, Oz.”

“Ask Hoseok to cover for you,” I rolled my eyes at his blase attitude.

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

I hated that I understood where he was coming from. Most of my boys would never go off to swim professionally and their skill set was not on par with anyone out right now. They were not committed to the strict regime that would take and I did not get paid well enough to justify the extra hours. Jimin, however, would pay me extremely well and I would get that experience under my belt. I might even learn a few new things to add to my own drills.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” I finally conceded. “And set up a phone call, or meeting, or something with the kid. Need to make sure we’re on the same page before we waste one another’s time.”

Ozzie laughed, “I think you’ll get along just fine, but sure. I think he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Nothing of much importance was said after that. We hung up with promises of talking soon and then I was alone once more. My office was still just as messy and swamped with paperwork as it had been before, but it all looked different. It felt like I was already gone, and a deep homesickness settled in my chest. I stared at the papers in front of me and sighed before shooting a text to Hoseok.

As I expected, everyone had told me to jump at the opportunity. Hoseok even said if I didn’t, I would be the biggest idiot he had ever met. Matilda asked if she could come (I told her no), and Dani just seemed bummed that we could not hang out anymore. Andy and Jin were the most supportive of the situation while Minho the most cautious. He was worried about the media catching wind of something and causing a frenzy. After Matila pointed out how old news I was, I felt a little less afraid of that possibility even if it was a hit to my ego.

Ozzie seemed pumped when I told him I was open to the idea if Jimin and I seemed to mesh well. I was firm in my decision to talk to him before making any concrete plans, and from what Ozzie told me, my future student was extremely receptive to the idea. I also learned that Opal was jealous of her fellow Olympian, but I tried not to let that puff up my chest.

That was why I was sitting in my home office, hair nicely styled and a light layer of makeup on waiting for Jimin to join our Zoom call. I wore blue since Ozzie said it was his favorite color, but the material was slowly driving me insane. While the color was nice, deep blue and sparkled whenever the light hit it, it was scratchy and irritated the skin around my chest and shoulders. I almost got up to change but a small icon with the letters ‘JP’ in the center popped up before I could.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

“Hey,” I replied with an awkward wave. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

Cursing under his breath, Jimin apologized for the tech issues. I adored how nice he was to listen to. It was unique, gentle and raspy, but also feminine in its softness. There was no bass or hardness, every sound and syllable light and airy with self-depreciating laughter after every insult he threw at himself. Apparently, Jimin was not great with technology and always had a difficult time with cyber meetings.

“This is fine with me,” I tried to reassure him. “I don’t need to see your face to talk.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s a little awkward for you to have your camera on and mine’s off.”

I could hear him clicking around. “I’ll turn mine off, too, if that helps.”

He shut that down immediately and continued clicking and typing. After a few more minutes, he found his problem. Then the icon was gone and there he was.

His face was round, his cheeks plump, and chin soft. The first thing I noticed about him was his lips. They were rounded and plump like a baby duck with a soft, heart shaped cupid’s bow that led up a small, button nose. Everything about his face was soft except his eyes which were almond shaped and flicked outwards like a cat’s. His hair was pitch black and parted down the middle, framing his face and making his pale skin look like snow. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the camera a large smile took over his face and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

“Can you see me?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.”

Neither one of us knew what to say for a moment. He swirled around in his chair in search of his water bottle. He stood up, excusing himself for a moment. He was also wearing a blue shirt, a pair of black pants, and seemed just as nervous as I did. He left the room while I sat and thought about him.

There was one word to describe Jimin: pretty. His soft lines and tiny waist made him look so much smaller than I had imagined him. All of the years seeing him on the tv did nothing to compare to watching him walk around a little room in his home. Without a cap and goggles, Jimin was angelic, and I felt uneasy. How was I supposed to work with someone I found this attractive?

“Sorry,” He was back now, a large Yeti cup in hand. “I should’ve made sure I had this already.”

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

He sat back down, and I finally noticed the large oval necklace he was wearing. I did not know what it could mean to him, but I had seen him with it a few times at events. It was simple and silver, no gem in the center of the pendant, and sat directly over his heart. He took a sip from his cup, snapping me back to action.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked. “Ozzie told me she wasn’t well.”

His expression saddened me, and I hated that I brought it up. I knew how much I did not enjoy talking about Namjoon’s death, and while his mother was still alive, she was not well. Unfortunately, I could not take the question back.

“I’m not sure how much you know,” He started, leaning back in the leather computer chair. “She has melanoma and isn’t doing chemotherapy anymore. I’m staying in Michigan so I can spend as much time with her as possible.”

My heart ached for him and his family. Cancer had a reputation for ripping families apart and I could only imagine how this was affecting the young swimmer. My own grief was long and drawn out, guilt and shame hanging over my head for years before I was finally able to let it go, but the death itself was swift. Joon was dead and buried before I woke up from the coma, but I could recall every detail of that hospital room when Victor told me what happened. I hated to think about watching the life slip from him, knowing he would die, and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“I understand. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I knew it was inadequate, but I did not know this man well enough to say my thoughts out loud. Maybe later, after a few weeks of training together, I could get the courage to let him know I would be there if he needed someone to talk to. I knew all about navigating grief and I would happily help him stay motivated through this horrible, tragic time. Jimin stayed quiet so I took it upon myself to get the ball rolling again.

“I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I just want you to know that I get it and I see you. If we work together, I will make sure your mental health comes first. Whatever you need, whatever your family needs, will always come before getting in the pool.

“You were working with Hamilton before this, and whatever happened between you two- I don’t know, that’s none of my business, but I can promise you I will try my best to make sure our professional relationship doesn’t reach that point. Just tell me what’s up and I’ll make it work.”

Jimin smiled a small, sad smile that paled in comparison to that blinding show of teeth earlier. My eyes could not help their roaming and I felt guilty. There was a chance we would be working together, and I could not feel this way about him if that time came. I could only hope that if we did decide to move forward with this arrangement, any affections I could have for him would get buried. I would have to talk to Hoseok about this.

“I have to take her to appointments once a week,” He replied, voice small and eyes staring at something off camera. “She’s not getting her chemo anymore but still goes to see her doctor often to manage symptoms as best she can. She also has a dance class every Sunday morning and I will be going with her.”

I nodded, “I can live with that. As long as you’re still putting in work you can take your mom anywhere.”

He took a deep breath and finally looked at the camera again. The vulnerability I found there took me off guard. Jimin must be someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve, and I would have to learn to nurture that. Namjoon always told me I needed to work on being more sensitive to others, a skill I had yet to master.

“Matt didn’t like how much time I spent out of the pool. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m hoping we can come up with a training schedule that works well for the both of us. I feel bad enough pulling you away from your life, and I don’t want my personal shit to bleed into what you’re going through.”

It was a kind gesture, one I appreciated, but he needed to get over it. I told him in so many words that I was happy to help him.

“Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t want to do this then we wouldn’t be talking.”

Jimin seemed to like my bluntness and I was fond of his over-analytical anxiety. The way he fidgeted reminded me of Namjoon, his forward and direct confrontation of his emotions and needs so strikingly similar it made it nearly impossible for me to dislike him. I don’t think a person alive could dislike this man.

“I can be in Ann Arbor next week,” Jimin had gone on another rant about inconveniencing me and I shut it down. “Everything here is already squared away. We can discuss it more later, how does that sound?”

He smiled wearily, his nerves causing him to squirm in his seat.

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

I hoped my expression looked as sincere as I felt, “I’ll take care of you, kiddo.”

Pulling a face, Jimin laughed heartily. Triumphant, I smiled brazenly, his laughter contagious. I made a note to pull out a few age jokes now and then if it meant making him smile like that.

“I’m an adult man, I’ll have you know,” He was still laughing.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

“We’re going to get along just fine,” He seemed more confident than ever, and it warmed my heart. “Let me know when you’re expected to get here. Do you have my number?”

We exchanged our contact details. After days of talking over email, I finally found a smiley face emoji in my notifications, a Michigan area code attached. Saving his number, I replied with the old woman emoji earning myself another laugh.

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

I left the meeting, my chest much lighter after talking to him. He was a sweet man and not half bad to look at. I was a few years older but not disgustingly so, and he was more than available from the sound of things. Realizing the direction my thoughts were going in, I stood up from the chair to start writing out some drills and scheduling prototypes. Before I could get out of the door, however, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

Me: I’m flying in on Tuesday. Know a good place to stay?

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

Jimin: One of my neighbors has their mother-in-law suite for rent. I could probably cut you a good deal with them.

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart.

Me: Thank you. And no deals. I can pay for myself.

Jimin: My mother would be very upset if I didn’t at least try.

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

I laughed out loud, thoroughly amused. I had a feeling he was testing the waters after I poked fun at him earlier. Jimin was probably used to the stick stuck up Hamilton’s ass. He was in for a treat. At the pool I was cool and collected but I could cut up with the best of them.

Me: Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of my hip breaking

I was practically giddy with excitement waiting for his response. It had been such a long time since someone joked around with me like this. Hoseok tried but he was awful at taking a joke, so I stopped poking the bear. It was refreshing and all too familiar.

Jimin: I’ll get you one of those life alerts just in case.

Was he flirting with me? Did I care? Shrugging, I went along with it. I would remain strictly professional while we worked together, but if things developed after that I would let them. Happily. I barely knew this guy, but I remember this feeling. It was the first time since Joon’s death that it showed itself to me and I wanted to hold onto it.

First work then play, I told myself.

Who knows? This little bit of infatuation could fade just as quickly as it came, and I would leave Ann Arbor with a new friend instead. Might even be able to score a steady job with the kid if things worked out. My life in Colorado would remain untouched, my friends happily accepting a new kid in the group when he came to visit, and my house just as bare and empty as it always had been. The years continuing to pass me by.

I tried not to think about why that thought made me want to cry.

“I told you I’m fine,” I sighed into the phone, waiting at the baggage claim for my things. “You’re in rare form today.”

Andrea laughed, the sound slightly hysterical and I winced. That was the wrong thing to say, but she was driving me insane. I had traveled around the world multiple times, and she was acting like Michigan was going to kill me.

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Andy bit back, her tone clipped and harsh.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved one of my bags off the conveyor belt. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I promise you I’m fine Andrea. You’ll be my first phone call if that changes.”

The other bag finally popped up and I quickly snatched it. Slinging the large duffle bag over my shoulder, I adjusted it until it rested comfortably on my shoulders. Lifting the handlebar off my large suitcase, I drug it behind me while I followed the signs for the exit. Jimin said he arranged for someone to pick me up but did not specify who. He was busy with a few interviews this morning and could not get me himself. He had been very disappointed about it.

“I know I’m nagging,” Andy groaned. “Scratch that. I’m acting like a total helicopter parent.”

I laughed, “Your husband had been even worse. The man tried to book me a charter flight because he was worried about my leg in an airport. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November.

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother.

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade.

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently.

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself.

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips.

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others.

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway.

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment.

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices.

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me.

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible.

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled.

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job.

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched.

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again.

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company.

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease.

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more.

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up.

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out.

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice.

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family.

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that.

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags.

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage.

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long.

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely.

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him.

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same.

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it.

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio

371 notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 7 months

Text

In The Way I Need You | Part 1

Series Masterlist

➪in which joey starts school and clay realizes he might have to listen to his mothers advice of hiring a sitter, but quickly warms up to that after idea meeting a seemingly sweet girl while on his way to work.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Clayton Beresford, get up,” the sound of his mother’s voice made Clay cringe as he grabbed his pillow and placed it over his head. “Clay, get up. Joey has been asking for his dad for the last half hour, you need to get up.”

Clay groaned as she ripped the pillow away from him and threw it on the opposite side of the bed before walking over to the curtains and pulling them open. “Mother,”

“Don’t mother me, Clay,” Lilith scolds as she moves back around the bed and stands over him. “You need to get ready for work, and get Joey ready for school, it’s his first day.”

With a huff, Clay sits up and throws the sheets off him. “You couldn’t have gotten him dressed for me?”

Lilith scoffs, walking towards the door. “I made him breakfast, you can pick out his clothing,” and then she was gone and Clay was left alone in the bed that felt all too big for just one person.

Looking around his room, he sighs at how messy it had gotten since his last attempt at cleaning it. He grew up damn near spoiled and never had to worry about cleaning his room or making his bed, so now at the age of twenty seven, he was terrible at both those tasks.

He looks over at the right side of the bed, and more specifically at how empty it was. That spot should be filled. She should be here, with him and with their son, but life really enjoys playing with him sometimes.

Sighing again, he gets up and throws on his work clothing, which really felt more like a formal event outfit than anything else. He finishes buttoning up his white shirt as he enters the kitchen, his eyes instantly landing on his son. “Hey, buddy,” he greets as he leans down and kisses the top of his head. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Joey nods and sets the crust of his toast down on the plate. “I’m still tired,”

Clay laughs and picks up the half eaten toast. “You are?” He asks and finishes his kids breakfast, his mind going back to when he was Joey’s age and also didn’t like crust. “You went to bed pretty early last night. Unless you were just pretending to be asleep when I came and checked in on you.”

Joey shakes his head quickly as Lilith laughs from her place at the sink, her arms crossed as she blows on the coffee mug in her hand. “No, dad,” he answers as he stares up into Clay’s matching blue eyes.

“No?” Clay hums, picking up the now empty plate and walking over to his mom.

She stays still as he reaches around her to set the plate down in the sink, a teasing smile on her lips. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger,” she stated. “You’re aware of that, right?”

Clay laughs and nods, looking back at his son as he scribbled on a blank piece of paper with a yellow crayon. “I know,” he agrees, looking down at his mom’s attire. “Are you staying home today?”

Lilith glances down at her housecoat clad body with a shrug. “I’m wrapped around that kid’s finger, too,” she grinned, finishing off her coffee and putting the mug in the sink as well. “I’ll get my work done early so I can be here when he gets home, but I really think it’s time we start looking for a more stable sitter. I know you don’t like talking about it, but I think you should consider hiring a nanny.”

Clay sighs and moves away, standing behind Joey and placing his hands on the back of his chair. “I said I’d think about it,” he muttered. “I haven’t come to a conclusion yet.”

“It’s not a bad idea to have someone here to look after him while we’re at work. Someone to get him to and from school, helps get him ready in the mornings,” she pointed out. “Like a nanny.”

“He doesn’t need a nanny,” Clay mumbled, reaching a hand up to flatten out Joey’s messy hair. “I don’t want my son growing up in that kind of environment.”

“You had a nanny when you were little, Clay,” she reminded as she moved away from the sink. “You turned out pretty well.”

“I’m a single dad at the age of twenty seven, mother,” he rasped. “And I still live with my mother.”

“I told you I never liked that girl, Clayton,” she scolded as she wrapped her robe tighter around her body. “And I also told you that this is your home for as long as you want it to be. You want to move out, fine, but then who will be there to help look after Joey? No one. Unless you listen to me and hire someone to do it.”

And then she was disappearing down the hall to get ready for the day. Grunting under his breath, Clay leaned down and pulled Joey’s chair out. “Come on, let’s get you dressed,” he held his hand out, grinning when the much smaller one grabbed it.

The phone rang five times before Clay was sent to voicemail.

He wasn’t surprised, but the silence still irked him. Glancing at his driver, Clay turned a bit and tried to make it a little more private, but he was literally in the backseat of a car on his way to work. How private could it really be? “Hey, it’s me again,” he started, not missing the way Rick, his driver, glanced back at him. “Joey started school today. Can you believe it? Our son started school.”

Rick straightened up at the harsh tone of Clay’s voice and quickly put his attention back on the busy street of New York, surely sensing that this would not be a nice voicemail.

Clay paid him no mind as he continued, “He’s four now. Did you know that? You should, he’s your kid, too. You should know how old he is and you should’ve been there for his first day of school,”

He wasn’t entirely sure if his ex even still used this number, or if he was just making these calls for nothing. She must, seeing as her voicemail hasn’t gotten full yet, and he’s been giving her these updates for the past three years now as a way to cope with not having her in his life anymore.

Clay knew she didn’t deserve to know about what’s been going on in Joey’s life, and he knew he shouldn’t be wasting time leaving her messages, but he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t know if he wanted to rub it in her face about how good of a parent he turned out to be, or how amazing their son is. He just wanted her to know that she royally fucked up when she decided to leave before Joey even turned one.

“You should’ve been there, Sam,” he said again, his voice wavering as he let his anger that had been building up since she left get to his head. “How the fuck could you do that to him? To us?”

Clay looks out the window and sees that he’s almost to the building in which he would be spending the next eight hours in.

Sighing, he wraps up the call. “Whatever, Sam. I hope you realize one day how much you’ve missed out on and how much our son has missed out on,” he muttered. “Not that you even care. Delete this, listen to it, do whatever you want. That’s what you’re best at.”

And then he hung up and was left feeling even worse.

It always ended that way, with him heated up with anger and with Sam probably feeling great at the fact that she is still able to rile him up without even being there.

Rick pulls off to the side of the street and looks back at Clay. “We’ve arrived, Mr. Beresford,”

Clay scoffs quietly, shrugging off his jacket since his skin had begun to sport a thin layer of sweat from how annoyed he got during the one-sided call. “Mr. Beresford was my dad,” he says, leaning back against the seat. He wasn’t ready to go in there yet. He was so frustrated and didn’t want to accidentally go off on anyone in that building because he still isn’t over his ex. “It’s just Clay. You know that.”

“I do,” Rick nods, sending him an apologetic smile in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, Clay?”

Nodding, Clay looks out the window. “Everything is fine,” he lies as he watches a girl pace back and forth on the sidewalk. New York was a massive place and not easy to navigate through, but it was clear that she was new here. She wore a pale pink skirt and a white top that ended just above the hem of the skirt, which is not something people here usually wear.

Clay has lived here a long time and the people of New York were stereotypical in the way they wore their favorite sports teams logos on their clothes or baggy jeans and a t-shirt.

Most of them didn’t care and didn’t put a lot of effort into their appearance, simply because no one would notice. It was why he got a lot of stares whenever he walked around in dress pants and a tie.

The girl looked confused and lost and Clay felt a bit bad for her. Even he got a bit turned around at times, and he’s lived here his whole life. He owns half of it, too.

He also couldn’t ignore how pretty this girl is.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen his ex in years and he hadn’t let himself look at any of the women in the city as a potential partner as he was overly protective of both his son and his heart.

Or maybe it was because he simply felt bad for the girl and her clear lack of directions.

Whatever it was, it had him opening the car door without much of a second thought.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you looked up at the street sign then back at the paper in your hand.

After living in New York for the last couple weeks, you were beginning to think you would never get to know your way around it. The place was massive and so confusing to navigate through if you didn’t know where you were going, and you clearly didn’t.

You had been waiting to hear back from this job for days now and when you were finally given a chance for an interview, you couldn’t figure out how to get there. Your coffee did nothing to wake your brain up enough for you to be able to think clearly, and you debated on just throwing the rest of it away, but you were raised not to waste food or drinks when there are others who are less fortunate than you.

With an annoyed sigh, you stopped walking and stared down at the page again, not paying any attention to the car you were now standing beside as the door opened and someone stepped out.

You don’t look up from the paper as you move forward and walk straight into another person, your coffee slipping from your hand and spilling onto the pristine white shirt of a man. “Oh, my God,” you gasp, not noticing that the page that held the address had also gotten soaked from the spill. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

It was the least of your worries as your eyes trailed up and met a pair of blue ones. Your breath hitched as the stranger smiled and shook his head as if he didn’t care at all that his white shirt was now stained with warm coffee. “It’s okay,” he said and his voice lived up to his appearance. Dreamy. Hot. Intimidating, even.

“That looks expensive,” you think out loud when you look back down at his ruined button up, then quickly wipe the worry off your face and replace it with fake confidence. “Which is totally fine, I can pay to have it fixed or cleaned or…whatever.” Really, you most likely couldn’t afford to do that, but he didn’t need to know that.

The stranger laughed and it was probably the sexiest thing you had ever heard. “Don’t worry about it,” he waved you off and took the napkin from you when you held it out to him.

You chew on your bottom lip as he begins to wipe up some of the coffee, though you both knew it wouldn’t do a thing to save the shirt. “Were you just going to work or something? I’d hate for you to have to wear that for the rest of the day,” you gestured to the mess on his shirt but he just shrugged and threw the napkin into the trash can that was nearby.

“I was actually debating on whether or not I should go home and skip work, then I saw you and thought you looked a little lost,” he grinned at the way your face flushed and how your cheeks were tinted pink. “Thought I could help you out a bit but ended up wearing your drink, instead.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s fine,” he brushed you off again then looked a bit hesitant as he added, “I’m Clay.”

He holds his hand out to you, making you look down at it before back up at his eyes. “Y/n,”

You shake hands and hate how you found yourself wanting to hold his for much longer than a few seconds. “So, in hopes I don’t sound like a total creep when I ask,” he begins, giving you a somewhat nervous smile. “Where were you trying to get to?”

Laughing, you shake your head and look down at the ruined paper. “No, not at all,” you say, throwing the paper into the trash as well. “It’s that obvious that I’m lost, huh?”

Clay shrugged again, stepping back towards the car and opening the backseat door. “Only a little,” he teased and pulled out his jacket, efficiently covering up most of his shirt. “I’ve lived here my whole life. Maybe I can point you in the right direction, if you want.”

You knew you were late for the interview, but you wanted to stay and talk with him for a bit longer. What was wrong with you? Why do you always do this around cute guys? Though, calling Clay cute felt a bit like an understatement. He was by far the hottest man you had ever seen in your life. “Please,” you say quietly, stepping towards him. “I was trying to get to this interview at the Milton Hotel, but the directions were hard to understand even before I got coffee all over them.”

Clay laughs and closes the door, turning around and nodding towards the intersection down the street. “You were pretty close, believe it or not,” of course, you wanted to say but held back. “You just take a left at the lights and go straight for about three blocks until you reach a bookstore that’s across from the old jail.”

He turned back to face you and you realized you were barely paying attention to his directions as you were far too focused on how good his backside looks.

“The hotel is above the bookstore,” he finished and you gave him a grateful smile. “So, not too far now.”

“Thank you,” you say and look down the street, not quite ready to leave the presence of him.

Maybe he didn’t want you to leave, either. “What’s the interview for? If you don’t mind me asking,”

You wave your hand. “Not at all,” you say again. “Just some babysitting gig. I finally got my CPR certificate and know how busy New York is. Thought it would be a good place to start.”

What are the odds..

Clay nods and tries to come off as casual as he leaned against the backdoor of the car. “Babysitting? Do you have much experience?”

“Yeah, about three years worth,” you answer, fidgeting with your fingers and Clay found himself hoping he wasn’t making you uncomfortable with all his questions. It had been too long since he actually let himself talk to a girl for more than a minute since Sam, so he was glad to see he was still able to decently hold a conversation. “I did it a lot through high school.”

“Yeah? When’d you graduate?” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know so much about you, but it was clear the two of you got along pretty well for two strangers. He was sure he could hook you up with a job if you didn’t get this one, and now he was once again wondering why he cared so much.

“Two years ago,” you replied and it didn’t seem like you were uncomfortable with him at all, so he decided to try his luck.

“Well, I hope the interview goes well,” he says and thinks about how he wouldn’t mind having someone like you around his son for the hours he was at work. Though Clay has some massive trust issues, he knew he would need to find someone to look after Joey soon. “And if it doesn’t, there’s many other opportunities that are waiting for you in this city.”

“Yeah?” You gave him a teasing smile and Clay had to physically hold back a smirk in response. “Like what?”

Clay stiffened a bit as he chose his words carefully. “You said you’re a babysitter, right?” And when you nodded, he continued, “My son started school today, but he still needs someone to watch him until I get back from work. If that is something you’re interested in, there’s an opportunity for you right there. But I’m sure the interview will go great.”

You study his face for a bit, making Clay think he said something wrong, before you grin up at him. “Thanks for the boost of confidence,” you soften your smile. “I might take you up on that offer, if your kid is cool, that is.”

Clay laughed as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. “He’s the coolest kid in New York, that’s for sure,” he says and hands his phone to you. “Let me know how it goes? And if you’re interested in looking after the coolest kid you’ll probably ever meet for a few hours of your day.”

Your laugh reaches his ears just as you take his phone and quickly type in a number, one he hoped was actually yours and not a fake one. He couldn’t lie, it wasn’t often he asked for girls’ numbers, but you seemed sweet and like you knew what you were doing. Except for when it came to reading directions, but even that was understandable. He was also doing this to give his poor mom a break, and to make sure his son was in good hands when he was gone. “I’ll text you,” you promised as you handed him back his phone. “Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

He took his phone and pocketed it. “It was nice to meet you, Y/n,”

You begin backing away as you smile at him. “You too,” you wave. “Sorry again about your shirt. You wear that coffee well, if it helps.”

Clay laughs again as you turn around and begin heading down the street in the direction of the lights.

The window of the car rolls down and he briefly hears Rick clear his throat. “I’ll pick you up at four, Mr. Beresford?”

And Clay was far too distracted to be able to correct him again, so he just nodded before tearing his eyes away from your retreating form and heading into the building.

Clay had gotten held up today and he had to text his mom and ask if she could pick Joey up from school. He knew it would be so much easier if he had a stable sitter to ask, and he was quickly beginning to agree with his mothers requests of hiring one.

While Clay wanted to be the one to pick Joey up from his first day, he was glad he would have his grandma there. He knew his mom was probably his son’s favorite person, and he couldn’t even get mad at that fact because Clay had to admit; Lilith Beresford was an amazing woman and an even better mom.

As he began packing up his things, his mind drifted back to you for what felt like the tenth time since meeting you all those hours ago. He didn’t know what it was, but Clay felt captivated by you.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t let himself get close to another girl since Sam, let alone have a full on conversation with one.

Maybe it was because he found you cute and sweet and a bit funny.

Either way, he was thinking about you as he shrugged his jacket back on and over his stained shirt at the same time his phone went off.

He checked it as he turned off the lights to his office, a genuine smile finding its way onto his lips as he read the text,

The interview was a fail. I think it was over before it even began. Any chance I could set up one with you? Very curious about this supposed coolest kid in New York.

And when you added a,

This is Y/n, by the way. The one who ruined your shirt because I have no sense of direction.

He knew he was probably screwed.

#clay beresford #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford #Clayton beresford x reader #clayton beresford imagines #hayden christensen blurb #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen #awake 2007 #awake #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you

447 notes · View notes