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tripleyeeet · 8 months

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FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you.

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.”

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust.

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan.

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince.

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin.

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire.

“All by your lonesome?”

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again.

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back.

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you.

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air.

“Wanted what?”

“You know.”

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting.

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips.

“What? That I want to fuck you?”

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch.

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group.

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you.

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left.

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter.

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?”

“Smell w—“

Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.”

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?”

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half.

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile.

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.”

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo.

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows.

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse.

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same.

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.”

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best.

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions.

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out.

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch.

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help.

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?”

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new.

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him.

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons.

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down.

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose.

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero.

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins.

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information.

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.”

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

“Nope.”

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum.

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.”

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice.

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable.

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?”

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.”

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat.

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?”

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.”

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?”

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.”

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.”

Lover, huh?

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose.

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard.

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground.

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done.

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away.

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him.

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised.

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay.

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?”

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath.

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation.

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured.

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through.

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten.

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.”

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you.

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself.

“I couldn’t let him take you.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.”

“I’m sorry.”

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?”

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

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#fear of losing it #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #haunted hoedown #summer writes

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irb-pascalito-99 · 1 month

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Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #wip #pedrostories #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sunny44 · 6 months

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All these years (Part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend! Reader

Warnings: bad words, fights and maybe more things

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was a long journey to Monaco.

My mother wanted me to stay at home and I really didn't want to, so I just arrived at the hotel I was going to stay at.

"What do you mean there's a problem with my accommodation?"

"I'm sorry Miss Y/l/n but your reservation was canceled two days ago."

"I didn't fucking cancel it."

"I did." I turned and saw my mother standing there. "Come on, Y/n."

"I'm sorry." said the receptionist who agreed and I followed my mother outside. "What's wrong with you? I said I didn't want to stay at your house."

"And I said I don't care what you want or don't want."

"So you called the hotel impersonating me and canceled my reservation? How did you know I'd be staying at this hotel?"

"It was obvious that you'd be staying in the hotel closest to us." I rolled my eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady."

"Then stop acting like you're the boss of me."

"But I am."

"No, you're not, the moment I moved out of your house and started supporting myself you lost that right and in case you can't count it's been years."

"Get in the car."

"I'm not going home, I told you."

"And I've told you that none of the other hotels will accept you there, so you either stay at home or sleep on the street. Now get in the car."

"I came by car so I don't need your ride."

I got into the car and slammed the door, driving off as fast as I could.

This was another reason why I hated coming here.

My mother.

Ever since Charles and I split up, she turned into this completely cold person, said I'd ruined everything and that I should have said no to the promotion and stayed here.

But her vision of a woman with the perfect life was to be married to a guy who worked to support his wife and kids.

That's what her mother, my grandmother, taught her, and that's why she's always been like that, so she thought I'd fall for it too.

I got home and after parking I saw my father coming out of the house and he smiled when he saw me.

"Hi my love, I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Dad." I hugged him tightly and he kissed my forehead.

"Where's your mom?"

"She’s probably coming, I drove here."

"She said she'd pick you up."

"She did, but I drove from Milan so...”

"You had a fight, didn't you?" I agreed. "Love, you have to make things right with her."

"No, she's the one who has to apologize to me." I looked at him. "Since when is a mother disappointed by her daughter's success?"

"She wasn't disappointed in you."

"Yes, she was and you know it, her dream was for me to marry him, get pregnant and live the life of a madam who doesn't do anything the way she does."

"Darling, your mother was raised like that.”

"So was I, but I took different paths, so it's her fault. We decided our own future and she decided hers and I decided mine." he agrees quietly. "Can you believe she canceled my hotel reservation and even called others so they wouldn't accept me just so I'd stay here?"

"Did you do this Jessica?" He asks and I turn around to see my mother standing there.

"You're barely home and you're already causing friction between me and your father, aren't you?"

"There wouldn't be any friction if you didn't do shit like that."

"Look at the way you talk to me in my house," she says angrily.

"I didn't even want to be here, you brought me here so take the consequences."

I picked up my suitcases and took them to my old room. It was completely different, but since I'd taken most of the things that made up my room, it ended up becoming a guest room.

"Y/n." Knocks on the door and enters. "We are having dinner later at the Leclerc's, okay?"

"I don't think I'm going."

"Why not?"

"Kind of obvious, isn't it?" I say and he laughs.

That's what I liked most about my father, he understood my jokes and ironies and was always in a good mood.

"Well, it's up to you, but Arthur asked me to tell you that if you didn't show up he’d come and pick you up."

"Then he'll have to come." My father laughs and leaves.

tag list: @formulas-bitch @nuggetvirgo @lndonrris @cmleitora @janeholt3 @coffeewhore18 @blueflorals @agentadhd @eviethetheatrefreak @honethatty12 @lec-16 @ariamox @boherahpsody @ssararuffoni @leilani13gc @alldaysdreamers @minmira95 @dessxoxsworld @dessxoxsworld

The names with a line above were because I couldn't tag them

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priniya · 1 year

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GETAWAY CAR !

reader gets upset, when xavier pays no attention to her at the raven’s, but when things get complicated, and her best friend is in the center, she lets down her grudge.

notes: xavier thorpe x reader. reader is a witch. best friends to lovers. mentions of alcohol (wine), underage drinking, probably a few curse words, characters might be a little off tho. SPOILERS for wednesday finale! read on your own responsibility. NOT PROOFREAD

masterlist • taglist (click to be added!)

in the depth of your heart, you’ve always known that you’d end up with xavier thorpe, or have a high school love story with him, so there was no surprise for anyone that knew you, that when he finally asked you out to be his date on the upcoming ball, you were on cloud nine. almost as if he knew that you’ve rejected at least four boys that invited you.

suddenly becoming involved and interested in anything that revolved around the dance, looking out for a dress with enid, and wednesday was much more fun than you anticipated, asking yoko to help you out with make-up, and hair. you were ecstatic — happier than you’ve ever been.

it was finally your turn, after so much time of sulking, you got a chance.

at least you thought so. xavier thorpe has been your friends ever since your parents put you together in one crib, during a spontaneous meet-up with his. you were always there for him, hardly ever putting yourself before him. it wasn’t a shock, when you developed a crush, you could say it was expected.

and then, when he put down another of your offer to have at least one dance, you realized what was going on. your best friend wasn’t as happy as you, whenever the topic of the ball was brought up, changing it as soon as possible, he wasn’t keen on dancing, his mind definitely somewhere else. his eyes tracing around wednesday addams.

your heart clutched in your chest as you shifted in your chair, ready to stand up. “maybe you’d stop sulking if you asked her, instead of sitting here.” you rolled your eyes, the happiness far gone on your face. “do it. i’ll be outside if you were looking for me.” he just nodded his head in reply.

sneaking out noiselessly, you managed to climb upstairs to your dorm to quickly find a bottle of wine, you’d hit under your bed earlier. as soon as your dress touched the wooden floor, your eyes filled with tears — how couldn’t you think about it? even for a second? it was so painfully obvious that he was using you to get her jealous.

the bottle emptied pretty rapidly, but it wasn’t the only bottle you had hidden somewhere in your room. sobs, accompanied by the tunes of a song playing from a random, heartbreak playlist, filled the quiet room as you poured another glass of the liquid. you were just a pawn in his game, a small chapter that didn’t matter, not as much as he mattered to you.

you didn’t even think about washing off your makeup, as it only reminded you about the humiliation you faced after putting it on. you didn’t even put the dress back into the wardrobe, nor clean the empty bottles of your favorite wine.

yet, even though you were hurting so much, all you could do is wonder if he looked for you after your sudden disappearance, did he care enough to be at least a little worried, although you wouldn’t like to know the answer, it didn’t matter anyway.

when your roommate finally came back, her white dress soaked in red paint, she didn’t even care that your sheets would get stained, she didn’t even ask about the reason of your current state, she just pulled you into a hug, and didn’t let go for the next hours as you poured out your heart.

“why do i keep doing this? why do i keep running back to him, whenever he gets upset? why does it hurt so much, when i should’ve known it would end up like that.” you cried, head resting on her laps as you sipped the sweet liquid from the bottle. “will it ever be me?” you asked.

on the next day of classes, you weren’t really yourself. you were rarely bothered by anything, always trying to bring a good mood wherever you went, now — you were the complete opposite. earphones plugged in your ears with music blasting so loud that you barely heard your own thoughts, sunglasses resting at the bridge of your nose to hide the puffiness, and redness of your eyes, not even a single word coming out of your mouth.

“earth to y/n.” bianca tapped your shoulders lightly, grabbing your attention. you two weren’t exactly best friends — she was an ex-girlfriend of a boy you were so obviously interested in, yet you managed to hold everything in for the period of their relationship. “what happened between you, and xavier last night?” she asked, a worried expression painted all over her face.

bianca respected you more than anyone that could possibly be a threat to her relationship with thorpe, when they were still together. which was weird for anyone around you, knowing how inseparable the two of you could be, yet you never wanted to be the one to ruin their best friend’s relationship. so when bianca questioned your motives, not believing any of your words until you asked her to use the siren speak on you to learn the truth. that you backed out the second he told you, that you kept your feelings and affection for yourself.

“nothing.” you shrugged. “i was just a pawn to get wednesday’s attention, something i should’ve expected.” you cracked a sad smile, fixing the sunglasses on your nose. the girl seemed to be… shocked, a frown appearing on her face.

“he was unable to stop talking about you, when we were together yet now when he has a chance, he pulls out shit like that?” a sigh escaped from between her lips, arm threw over your shoulder. “i’ll swing by our room tonight, i’ll make sure you’ll be busy with something else.”

you smiled at the girl, accepting the offer, before she got back to her friend group. a notification popped up on the screen of your phone, a humorless laugh leaving your lips immediately.

xav: need 2 talk, my shack in 5?

as a rational human-being you were (with additional psychic abilities), you left him on read, and never stepped into his art studio. well, at first you were convinced to do it, but your legs decided upon going there — so again, you were running back to him whenever he wanted.

“hey.” you spoke out softly. “you said you needed to talk?” you added, the dim lighting of the room making him almost invisible. his head shot to you immediately, determination painted all over his face.

“where were you after you left?” his words sharply cut through the thick tension built around you. you were about to part your lips, and reveal yourself, when he added. “were you in the woods? that’s why you had to run away so fast? because you are the–”

so this is what it was all about — he didn’t want to see you to check if you were fine, he wanted to see you to investigate if you were the hyde that hurt eugene, and killed rowan. you let out a humorless chuckle, turning your back on him, ready to leave, though his hand gripped on your lower arm.

“so you are the hyde.” he stated, eyes burning with fury. “you left to run after eugene, because he found out about your little secret, so you had to cut ties?” his words incredibly pained you, cutting your heart like a knife, proceeded by stabbing.

you let out a long sigh, looking him dead in the eyes. “i was in my dorm, bawling my eyes out while drinking the wine my sister sent me, because my date didn’t even bother to look at me for a second, even though i spent my last savings to buy a dress, so maybe for once, he would look at me and think that i look pretty, that i did it for him.” you felt the tears filling up your eyes, yet you kept going. “i’ve spent the entire night, wondering when my role as a pawn in his game will end. and i’ve come to a conclusion that it won’t happen, there’s always gonna be someone above me in his hierarchy, even though we were friends for more than i can remember.” he let your arm out of the grip, a confused grimace on his lips. “why didn’t you just ask her? oh wait, i know, i’ve already been told why. you did ask her out, but she refused to go, because tyler invited her earlier, so i was just a getaway car as always.”

when he didn’t break the silence after you finished your monologue, you left, running away to the woods to gather your thoughts, and cry for the fifth time that day. you clearly weren’t in a mood to talk to anyone without a sip of wine. you felt invisible, when you found yourself a seat somewhere in the forest. you were sure that your roommate would ask the teachers to give you a sick day, firmly explaining what happened.

xav: yn,,, im sorry, can we talk it through?

you didn’t reply at all, starting to hold a silent grudge against him, for once, placing yourself before anyone else. until the classes were finished, you were walking around the woods, gathering herbs for your potions, trying to calm down.

throughout your whole life, you believed that your mom has linked your souls together at the very young age, so you could be some sort of anchor for each other, whenever something overwhelmed you, nonetheless it was a double-sided sword. he could mess you up to the point, where you had to take a calming potion (and vice versa), or he could be the one to calm you like no one other could.

so when the evening came, you found yourself dressed up in your favorite pjs, which some time ago belonged to your best friend (now it’s yours, of course), standing at the door leading to bianca’s dorm. two bottles of wine, hidden in the depth of your bag.

“i hope you bought more wine, she drank two and a half bottle last night.” your roommate laughed, arm wrapped around your shoulders as you walked into the room.

the time flew by as you emptied at least three bottles, and you were comfortably laying down on divina’s bed, covered in a blanket junpier brought with her. “he accused me of being the monster today.” you spoke out suddenly, changing the topic back to xavier, who endlessly occupied your mind. “and earlier, enid told me he actually asked wednesday to go with him, she just refused.”

“he really has no shame, has he?” bianca rolled her eyes, taking a seat next to you, and gave you the tightest hug it was only possible. “you know, the thing with wednesday will die down soon, and he’ll come back sooner than you think, he always does.” she planted a soft kiss on your forehead to make her words more believable.

“and if he doesn’t, which is doubtful, then you have us, we can find you someone.” divina joined you on the bed, a big smile spread over her face as she watched you let out a light chuckle. “maybe elliott, the werewolf? he’s pretty hot.”

you were cuddling for the rest of the night, sleeping in the most uncomfortable positions that ever existed, surrounded by blankets, and lots of pillows. after that night, full of drunk confessions, words of reassurance, cuddles and lots of wine, you felt confident enough to face xavier.

it happened sooner than you anticipated, you made your way downstairs to see him, waiting and knocking at the door, pale, and shaken up. “hey, looking for someone?” you asked, his large t-shirt hanging loosely on your body.

“yn, can we talk it through? please.” he asked, begged, watching as you walked into the room, and when you didn’t close the door, he took it as a sign to step. “we?” you scoffed. “let me explain myself.”

“i don’t know if i want to hear it.” you smiled at him, before mumbling something under your breath with a hand above a pack of cookies, changing it to a proper meal. “eat it, then we can talk.” you passed the dish to him, crossing your arms afterwards.

there was a thing about xavier that had always extremely infuriated you, ever since you were children. — he was terrible at taking proper care of himself, usually forgetting to have something to eat with him, whenever he went to his art studio. you’d always cast a spell on some of your snacks, you just bought in the city, to change it into something he liked, and then accidentally step by.

“i- i’m sorry that i made the dance miserable for you.” you leaned your back on your desk, eyebrows furrowed as you listened to him speak. “i really wanted to have fun with you, but i felt the presence of the monster there, near wednesday. it frustrated me to the point, where my mind went completely blank, ruining the dance not only for myself, but also for you.”

“and you’ve never been a pawn for me, you’ve always been present in the back of my mind, you are the factor that keep me sane, you’re the only person that brought so much happiness to my life.” he stood up from his seat, and walked towards you. his hands grabbing yours, softly, knuckles caressing it gently. “i’ve always been aware of my feelings for you, my heart has always belonged to you, and it always will, but i’m scared of losing you.”

“then why didn’t you call me, when i didn’t get back? why did you assume i was the monster? xavier, i beg you, stop trying to mess with my feelings, nothing adds up.” your tone was so quiet that the boy had to get even closer to hear it. “all i wanted was you to spend quality time with you, because you ditched me for wednesday a lot, since she got here, and i get that you can do whatever you want, so i was quiet about it, but even at the event you invited me to go with you?” seeing you so vulnerable made xavier’s heart clutch painfully in his chest. it was all, because of him, and he didn’t like a single bit of it.

“i wish everything was different, really. making you cry was the last thing i wanted to do, and you can hate me all you want, i deserve it for treating you like that.” he let out a long sigh. “but i just want you to know that it’s always been you, my head was always filled with your laughter, and memories of you.”

the closeness between you was overwhelming, taking your last senses from you, the same moment, when your best friend closed the gap, kissing you so delicately. feeling his lips on yours was infatuating, and enchanting, nonetheless, you pulled away, his forehead leaned on yours. “no, no, no. you can’t do that right now, not when i’m so angry with you. give me time, please.”

and with that, he stepped back with a simple nod, his eyes didn’t leave your face even for a second. “i’ll give you as much time as you need, i promise.” were the last words he has spoken before leaving your room.

for the next two weeks, three tops, you two barely exchanged a word, everyone around could sense the tension between, but you weren’t ready to talk to him as you still felt the pain from the dance. however, when wednesday announced that xavier was the hyde, you couldn’t believe it. none of these attacks were thorpe’s doing, and you were positive.

“i’ll curse the hell out of you, if you won’t let me see him.” you hissed at one of the cops, before he leaded you to the cell, where they kept your best friend, and seeing him in a state like that was destroying.

“yn?” shocked was painted on his face as you stepped into the room, a worried expression on yours. “it’s not me, i swear. please, someone set me up, please, you have to believe me.” his broken voice rang out in your ears as you nodded.

“hey, calm down and breathe for me, please.” you asked. “i’ll find a way to get you out of here, okay? everything’s gonna be fine, i’ll figure out whose doing it was, and you’ll be clear.” you sent him a reassuring, warm, and soo loving smile that all he could do was reciprocate it. “then, we can go out on a date, but you owe me so much wine, xavier thorpe that i don’t think you’ll be able to pay me back.”

when your time was up, you hang around the city for a while, thinking how could you get xavier out without breaking any laws that would put you there instead. grabbing a quick coffee from the weathervane, before coming back to the castle with xavier being your only thought.

you visited him thrice over the time, promising that if you don’t find the person who set him up, you’ll start breaking laws and free him within a blink.

you were surrounded by a crowd of people during the evacuation, caused by bringing joseph crackstone back to life. you were responsible for the spell that would keep everyone tranquil, and quiet in a place safe enough that the pilgrim’s actions wouldn’t reach.

and then, you noticed the boy you had feelings for, standing further away, making his way towards the crowd of people, and you couldn’t resist — you ran to him, throwing your hands around his neck, pulling him into a hug. when you backed off a few seconds later, your fingers running through his hair as you smiled so widely. “it’s you.” you chuckled lightly.

you remember everything that happened afterwards — mr. galpin handcuffing his son, the funeral the new principal threw for mrs. weens, brewing a potion for wednesday, so her scar from taking an arrow for bianca could heal faster, the end of the school year, and your date with xavier.

some would say you were reckless for not moving on from the blonde boy, some would bash you for giving him another chance, but you valued your friendship, and his presence in your life. so, it wasn’t a surprise for his housemates to see you at his door at one of the last nights of school year, dressed up in the comfiest clothes you had (which were, surprisingly, his).

you both decided that going out to a restaurant was unnecessary, and you could spend some quality time with each other in his room by eating a strawberry shortcake, drinking wine, and watching movies.

it was around first in the morning, when you finished ten things i hate about you, your head rested on his shoulder as you clung to his arm, being already a little tipsy. “i can’t believe you actually hadn’t watched my favorite movie before! julia stiles was so hot, and for what!” you giggled lightly, turning your head towards him.

“waited till i could watch it with you.” he tugged on a smile, and kissed you so sweetly that you felt like dying from the butterflies in your stomach. your fingers grabbed the collar of his shirt as he pulled you even closer, sitting you on his lips. “i love you.” xavier whispered in between the kisses, making your stomach burn on the inside.

it felt like a dream — to be kissed by a boy you pinned over so long, to have his hands on your waist, and hickies made by him on your neck, to be loved by him. even if it was a dream, the last thing you wanted was to wake up.

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe fluff #hurt/comfort #xavier thorpe oneshot #divina #xavier thorpe x witch!reader #xavier thorpe x you #bianca barclay #xavier thorpe x y/n #tyler galpin #enid sinclair #niki’s works 🫂

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hannie-dul-set · 4 months

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [2].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, multiple instances where personal space is invaded HAHAHHA, the boys are very dramatic please understand their yearning hearts. WORD COUNT. 4.5k.

NOTE. woohoo! next chapter to this shitshow! some parts may be a bit confusing and vague....sometimes ominous....but all will be known in due time HAHAHHA (may be tempted to give a spoiler or two if u ask). hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — these meet-cutes aren’t cute at all.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS. But you don’t need to know how to get the idea that Taehyun is shooting an insult at you right now. His face says it all. “I said you look like hell,” he repeats after you’ve removed your headphones, the music still leaking out even after you’ve settled it down the cemented table.

“Taehyun’s right,” Gaeul pipes in, and Woohyun seconds it. “You look like crap. What did you do last night?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you grunt, melting into the table. The sound of Yeong-Il’s Second Life is still just barely playing in the background thanks to your loud as fuck headphones volume. “We finished our exams. Of course I stayed up until six in the morning watching dramas.”

Three disappointed stares and one of full respect. “Dude, you’re crazy,” says Huening. “What did you watch? Night Has Come? My Demon? You should’ve invited me. I feel betrayed.”

“Both,” you reply, but you don’t seem all too happy after consuming over twenty episodes worth of dopamine. You’re frowning. You slam a fist down the table and let out a groan. “But they don’t fill the Choi Soobin shaped hole in my heart— fuck! Why isn’t he getting employed? Why hasn’t he been posting on his Insta? It’s been six months since his last drama. I miss him already.”

Huening’s attempts to console you consist of a few pats on your back. Gaeul’s attempt is a lot more effective. “Didn’t you win a slot to Choi Yeonjun’s fansign this weekend? Aren’t you coming?” You spring up with a gasp. “Girl, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did! I fucking forgot because I have a deadline on the same fucking day, fuck! I want to die. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you still going?” asks Woohyun.

“Of course she is! Deadlines come ten times a week, but the chance to meet Choi Yeonjin comes one in a million!” Gaeul exclaims, then grabs you by the shoulders with a very serious look on her face, as if she wasn’t just disappointed that you sacrificed sleep just to watch a bunch of dramas. “Tell him I’m in love with him. No, wait, I need to tell him that in person. Tell him to wait for me. I’ll get in next time for sure.”

You whine out something that sounds like an agreement. “I haven’t prepared an outfit yet. This is so depressing. Gaeul, help me.”

Taehyun, who doesn’t share any of your unhealthy fixations, still hasn’t crawled out from his state of disappointed concern. “Just make sure you don’t miss your Saturday deadline,” he says. You roll your eyes in response.

“This is me you’re talking to. I may not seem like it, but I have my shit together. You don’t have to worry.”

They hate to admit it, but it’s true.

Your friends have always wondered how you managed to balance your hellish course load, your evening shifts at The Grind, and your hobby of fangirling over pretty and good looking men. The only reason you were able to binge two dramas until daylight is because you’ve finished all your midterm requirements before taking your exams, and you’ll definitely be able to attend the fansign because you’ll somehow finish a thirty-page paper in one day, in between classes and your work shifts.

They’re quite convinced you’re insane. The lifeless look in your eyes as you flit through your flashcards to review for a recitation later is a testament to that insanity.

But sometimes, a little spark of life manages to slip through.

Like right now, as you check a notification in your phone in the middle of reviewing.

“Shit, fuck, shit— oh my god. Yeong-Il dropped an interview, fuck, hold on—”

“Whoa, really?’ Woohyun digs his nose next to you. You guys have a graded recitation in thirty minutes, and you’re walking to the classroom with a blank face zeroed in at your phone screen in landscape instead of the flashcards you have now tossed away into your bag, paying no mind to your surroundings to the point that Gael and Huening have to make sure you’re still walking in the right direction.

Taehyun isn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. They can’t even tell you off because they know you’ll somehow find the answers to Prof Yang’s questions anyway.

APPARENTLY, THERE’S A CAR ACCIDENT OUT FRONT. On top of having a tiring day of rehearsals and the interview with Beomgyu exposing his delusions on the internet being dropped earlier (they didn’t edit it out, those rats), Yeong-Il isn’t having a good day, so it’s to no one’s surprise the the tension inside their van on the way back to their dorms is rather palpable.

Beomgyu, however, doesn’t feel said tension. Or maybe he just doesn’t care because he’s closing his eyes, ready to nap while all the rest of the vehicles surrounding theirs are honking their horns, and while Jeongin and Jimin are monitoring the interview on a phone. The part where Beomgyu talks about his alleged first love comes up. “Beomgyu,” Heeseung groans, covering his ears with a neck pillow. “Did you really have to say all that?”

“Ahh, quit nagging. No one’s even taking it seriously,” he grumbles, arms crossed and turning over his body to face the window instead of his bandmates.

“Yeah, people are just raving about how romantic Beomgyu is,” says Jimin.

“And making edits of him and Heeseung,” adds Jeongin. “They’re mistaking your stressed-out glances at Beomgyu as signs of unrequited love—”

Heeseung shoves a hand against Jeongin’s face to shut him up. “Still. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

“Nyenye. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

They’re friendly as usual. Heeseung can’t put in the last word because Beomgyu has completely transformed into a sleeping position— yet he can’t seem to sleep and rest despite being absolutely fucked out and tired. He lets out a groan, squirming in the car seat. “Ugh.” The car still isn’t moving. The road is still a mess. All he wants is to rest as soon as possible, and he can’t even have that. All he wants is to see you again as soon as possible, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t have that as well.

Beomgyu gives up. He begrudgingly opens his eyes and looks at the state of the traffic out the window. It’s getting dark. Streetlights are being lit up one after the other, and he watches people moving faster than the frozen cars, like the road and the sidewalk are on two separate spaces of time.

A thought enters his head. What are the chances that you’ll be one of the people walking along the sidewalk right now?

“They’re making way for an ambulance.”

It’s a fruitlessly hopeful thought, he knows. It’s a silly possibility to entertain. But still. He can’t help but examine each of the faces passing by in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his wish from four-hundred years ago will finally fucking come true.

“Damn, when are we getting home?”

Right when Beomgyu gives up hoping and tries to fall back asleep again, he spots a familiar face walking down the sidewalk. Wait a minute—

“Man, this sucks.”

He jolts up, There’s no way. There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize that expression— stone-cold, looking as if the very thing in front of you is a worthless bug waiting to be stepped on, warding away any possible attempts of anyone bothering you. There are no knives in your hands, but a phone and a paper bag. You’re not adorned in the blue, red, white, and gold like he’s used to, but a large coat draped over your shoulders.

Still. Even if your face is covered by a mask, or if you’ve inhabited the body of a completely different person.

“Beomgyu, wanna play are round when we get—”

There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize you.

Looks like the chances are high after all.

“Beomgyu?!”

The van door slides open. Beomgyu feels the cold air hitting his face as he rushes in between the gaps of the traffic-saddled cars and the spaces in between. He hears Heeseung and Jeongin and Jimin calling after him but he doesn’t give a shit. Not now. Not when he’s sure he finally has you within reach, closing in the gap between you before you can disappear into a corner. Not when all he has to do is stretch out his hand, breath caught in his throat and heart racing, and pull you by the arm so you can turn around and look at him.

And you do.

Your phone crashes to the ground, and you’re looking at him like you want to punch him in the face. Beomgyu’s heart skips a beat.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s you.”

Beomgyu watches your brows knit together, your mouth falling into a sneer. It’s like looking into a time machine. Holy shit.

“It’s really you.”

That look of annoyance. There’s no denying it. Night has fallen. The only thing illuminating your face is a single streetlight hanging above, but he’d be stupid to mistake you for anyone else. The arm that shakes his hold off is yours. The eyes that are glaring at him— sharp as knives— are yours, yours, and yours alone and he can get lost in them for hours on end. “The fuck? Do I know—”

Your name falls from his lips for the first time in centuries. It’s always been blurry, always at the tip of his tongue the moment his memories from four-hundred years ago came crashing back to him like a storm. But now, it comes off naturally the moment he sees you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to sing.

He says your name once more. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“Are you a stalker?”

“I love you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he repeats, breathless. “My biggest regret was failing to tell you how much I loved when I still had the chance.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

Beomgyu reaches out for your hands, tugging you closer. Your skin burns him. Warm. Alive. “Now that I’ve been given that chance, I’m not letting go of you anymore.” He pauses, practicing the words inside his head before saying, “Let’s get married.”

“What?!”

“I love you. I missed you. Let’s get married right now.”

You don’t say anything. You’re silent. Beomgyu feels his stomach wrench and drop and hurt all the way to his chest and lungs because why—

Why are you looking at him like that?

“I’m going to call the fucking cops.” Once again, you shove him off, pulling your hands back and pressing them close to your chest. “There’s a crazy fucking bastard on the— shit! My phone! The screen is cracked, gosh! I haven’t even finished paying for it, for fuck’s sake, you have to— ex—excuse me, are you crying? Are you actually crying? What the hell?”

Beomgu’s vision is cloudy and his cheeks are wet. He knows you’ve always been spunky. You’ve always had an attitude and you two didn’t start off on the right foot, either. But why are you acting like you don’t know him? Like he’s some sort of fucking stranger?

“Hey, I should be the one crying right now! You broke my phone! What is wrong with—”

“There you are!”

Suddenly, he doesn’t see you anymore. Heeseung’s voice comes crashing in and he gets shoved aside, eyes stinging and mind still in a daze. “I’m so, so sorry for my friend over here. We can’t pay for the damages right away, but please take this. Again, we’re so sorry! Hope you have a great night, still!”

No. He can’t let you slip away again. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms like all the countless times he hasn’t. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Heeseung yanks him back before he can run after you down the sidewalk. “Quit being weird. Why the hell are you crying?”

Beomgyu is having a hard time understanding. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he simply doesn’t want to believe this— but your eyes don’t lie. He can tell if you’re annoyed by him just by looking at you. He can tell if you’re angry, regretful, elated, or drunk from the onslaught of his affections, so this time— he can clearly tell as well.

He can tell just from the look in your eyes that you don’t remember him.

That all those years of waiting for you was all for naught.

SOOBIN KNOWS THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW. He knows that he’s supposed to be on a diet, and he knows that he has a photo shoot for a magazine this weekend. He even got rid of his stash of instant ramyeon because of that, deleted all those delivery apps because this’ll be his first schedule after a few months of taking a break.

But he is here, at one in the morning, in between the isles of the 7-Eleven nearest to his apartment building, because cravings sometimes trump rationality, and god he sure is craving for a cup of noodles. Or two. Two sounds good. And since he’s already here, might as well put a pack of milk bread in his basket. A can of Sprite too. Manager Lee is gonna kill him, but at least he’ll die full and satisfied.

“Hey, hold the door open for me.”

“Don’t you have hands?”

“Nice! They have empty seats outside. Waiting here. Buy me some donuts.”

Ah, shit. Soobin pulls his hood over his head and readjusts his mask. Sounds like a group coming in. He should pay later once the store’s emptier— meaning, he has no choice but to browse for more snacks to add to his basket. Totally not because he wants to, no.

“Why’d you bring your laptop all the way here? You can continue working in Woohyung’s apartment.”

“Yeah, girl. There’s still a lot of time before the deadline.”

Soobin doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but the voices are talking pretty loudly. He’s dropping a few packets of yakgwa cookies into his basket while listening to a group of college students mourning about their courses. Good thing he chose not to pursue tertiary education.

“I need to finish this as soon as possible if I want to attend the fucking fansign. Crap, I should’ve switched majors when I had the chance.”

He abruptly stops snack surfing. Wait. Pause. Hold on.

“Should’ve done that before junior year.”

“I know. Shut up. Get me a popsicle, please. Chocolate. Thank you.”

That voice—

“They ran out. Only strawberry or melon. Pick one”

“That’s fucking balls.”

“You’re so eloquent.”

“Suck my fucking dick.”

Okay. Nevermind. It’s kinda weird to hear a voice that sounds eerily similar to the love of his life’s saying so much obscenities. You only spoke pretty words to him before, so maybe he’s just tripping. There’s no way you’d swear so much, so he continues browsing the snack aisle. Maybe he just misses you so much that he’s starting to mistake a similarly sounding voice as yours and subconsciously letting his hopes up.

“Hyun, by the way. I forgot to mention. I met a Choi Beomgyu lookalike last night on the way home from work. It was fucking wild.”

Then again, he thinks, arm paused hovering above a bag of chips. People didn’t really say suck my fucking dick in Joseon era.

Soobin stops filling his basket and starts moving out of the aisle, following the sound of your voice.

“I almost fell in love on the spot, but the guy wasn’t right in the head, I think.” Closer. You’re starting to sound closer. “He knew my name. He kept acting like he knew me and asked me to fucking marry him? I even dropped my phone because he scared the shit out of me. I don’t know, it was wild.”

Where? Where are you?

“Dude, really? No way.”

“I’m serious! I’m telling you—”

Where the hell are you?

“I even got a card from his friend when he dragged the Beomgyu clone away. I have it here, take a loo— wait. Wait. Isn’t BH the agency that manages Yeong-Il? Am I wrong— oh, sorry!”

There you are.

There’s a stain on his hoodie. Bright pink. It matches the popsicle you’re holding, the varsity jacket you’re wearing, and the color painting his cheeks because you’re right in front of him. You’re actually right in front of him right now— face flushed with panic, eyes rapidly blinking. “Are—are you Choi Soobin?” someone says. Not you. You’re still profusely apologizing while trying to wipe away the stain with your jacket sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous, Huening. Go get me some tissues! I’m so, so sorry, oh gosh. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You’re here. It’s actually you. His heart is racing. He can’t fucking breathe. He’s not sure if he should cry, scream, or all of the above.

But there’s something different. There’s something wrong.

“I can tell Choi Soobin from a picture of his ear! I’m telling you it’s him!” Your attention is pulled away by your companion tugging on your arm. “You’re Choi Soobin, right?! Jipuragi? Figured Obscurity?”

“Dude, you’re making him uncomfortable! Why in the world would Choi Soobin be—”

Soobin pulls down his mask, tugging on its fabric. When you turn back to look at him, your popsicle drops to the ground and you let out a gasp.

Your eyes are shining. You’re beaming. You do recognize him. You do know him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

Just not in the way he was hoping for.

“Y—yeah. Would you like a picture?”

You let out a squeal. So does your friend. This isn’t how Soobin expected his reunion with you to go about. This is wrong. He had it all planned in his head like a screenplay, and all that was left was to execute it without fail.

The moment he sees you, he was supposed to spin you around and hear your laughter fluttering in the air. He was supposed to hold you in his arms and give you the first kiss he’d been saving in this life because he’s been waiting for you all this time, yearning for years and years to give you the life he wasn’t able to in the past. To make up for everything you missed because in this life— there’s no class system to keep you apart. There’s nothing stopping him from loving you out in the open.

He didn’t expect to give you his autograph and take a fan selca with you after years of waiting.

This is so wrong. This is so freaking wrong.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” who he assumes is your friend says, and you’re smiling so, so brightly while looking at the photo of you and him that everything he wishes to say and profess and confess just lodges in his throat, blocking everything in its path.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, we won’t post this anywhere,” you say. Soobin holds back the inhuman urge to tell you why settle for a photo, when you can have him instead?

“S—sure. Anytime.”

“Ah, we should probably give you some privacy now. Huening, stop gawking! Anyway, fighting! We’re looking forward to your upcoming dramas!”

Just like that, you leave. You walk out of the store and join the rest of your friends outside, and he sees you showing off the signature he left on your receipt from the window, when he could give you so much more than that, when you could show off that you already own his entire heart. This...this really isn’t how he wanted to reunite with you. And the underlying reason for it something he doesn’t want to entertain.

“YEONJUN, YOU’RE UP IN TEN,” says a staff member. It’s the last week of promotions, and Yeonjun is getting his hair and makeup retouched one last time before he’s set to go uponstage to open the fansign. His manager tells him not to do anything stupid, or scandalous, or all of the above onstage— an almost everyday reminder that Yeonjun, more often than not, isn’t interested in listening to.

“Noona, you should trust me more,” he reacts, a slight whine in his tone. Manager Kim’s expression is nothing but dubious.

“At the very least warn me before you do something insane so I can prepare.”

“Will do,” Yeonjun grins, and his manager waves him off. Screams erupt the moment he emerges from behind the stage curtains, and everything else just comes naturally for Choi Yeonjun— not needing to second guess when he blows a kiss mid-performance, stirs the crowd with a comment or two, and making sure that all eyes are on him, almost as if he was born on every stage he steps foot on.

And to think he started this career without any desire for stardom.

Now, there’s nothing he desires more than blinding lights and the visceral sounds of cheers.

“A—ah, hello!”

Well. There is one thing.

“Crap, I—I’m so nervous I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh no,” replies Yeonjun to the fan sitting before him, marker in hand as he flips open the tabbed page on the nth album splayed out on the table. “Should I give you CPR to help you start breathing again?”

The girl lets out something sort of a squeal. He grins out a laugh and asks for her name and if she’s eaten anything yet.

“Thank you! Oh— oh, wait, one more thing—”

“Next!”

It’s a fast paced rotation. It always is. But Yeonjun uses the split second before the next person carousels in front of him to make a quick scan across the people lining up, across the people waiting in the audience seats, clinging onto the sliver of probability that this may finally be the day where his years of yearning for the ghost of past can finally end— well overdue for god knows how long already.

He reuses and rehashes the same lines, same dialogue, and same greetings for the next person, and the next person, and the next and the next and the next. It’s just one face after another. Not that he’s bored, or unappreciative of the fans that spent their time (and truckloads of money) to see him. But it’s human to feel a sense of disappointment when the face he wants to see doesn't turn up after the fifth, tenth, seventh, hundredth, thousand, nth face, fansign after a fansign.

“Next.”

His wrist is getting sore, back is getting tired, but Yeonjun readies himself for another round of mindless chat, missing the opportunity to do his routine scans when he closes his eyes to roll back his shoulders.

“Oh.”

Yeonjun hears the voice in front of him say. It’s a singular syllable, not even a word, but it’s enough to snap him wide awake.

“Oh my gosh,” you say again. Yeonjun doesn’t feel his fingertips. “You’re even prettier up close, whoa, this is crazy.”

He’s frozen. The usual ments and words and lines that usually flow naturally off his tongue don’t come. His brain is empty. The ink from his marker seeps into the album page underneath his numb hands. He hears his manager say something, but his manager’s voice is so far away— so, so, so far away, but the face he;s been yearning for in his memories is now, all of a sudden and without warning, within an arm’s reach, right before his eyes.

The marker stumbles out of his grasp. If Yeonjun reaches an arm out right now—

“U—uh.”

—he’d be able to touch your face.

“O—oh, holy shit, okay so we’re doing this now.”

And he is. The very feeling of your soft skin, unchanged from the feeling stored in the capsules of his memories, burns stronger than the adrenaline he feels when he’s onstage under the spotlight.

It’s real. You’re real.

You’re right in front of him right now.

“Choi Yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hiss of his manager from behind is ignored when he suddenly springs up from behind the table, and you let out a yelp when he drags you up along with him. He’s holding both of your hands, thumbs brushing over the ridges of your knuckles before pulling them closer to his chest. There’s whispering in the background, along with the snaps and flashes of the numerous cameras littered everywhere in the venue.

“Yeonjun.”

He pays no mind to them. Instead he brings up your hands to his face and presses a kiss onto your knuckles.

There’s a scream and gasp and a yell coming from somewhere.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

But all he’s focused on is the swirls in your widened eyes, dizzy and taken aback, voiceless with your mouth hanging open. Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Why don’t you look happy to see me, my love?” You hack out a hard cough and Yeonjun drops your hands in surprise. “What’s— what’s wrong?” he stammers, leaning forward and closing into your face while you turn away from him, digging more unease into his bones because this...this doesn’t seem right.

“Sh—shit, I think I need to sit down, oh my god,” he hears you say, and it hits him. Yes. You were never good at expressing your affection. Yes, yes. Perhaps you’re just overtaken by a surge of emotions, that your appearance looks like that of constipated confusion of trepidation as a result of being overwhelmed by the fact that you’re so in love with him and that you’re happy to see him again.

Yes. That must be it. You’re both sat back down, and he scribbles something on your now ink-stained album. “Next.” And when you’re just about to bow and leave, he says your name— one that he thought he’s forgotten— and you freeze.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he laughs. “There’s no need to be shy. Should I kiss you again to ease your— ack!”

“Next! Next person!”

Suddenly, you’re being scurried away. “No, wait!” he yells out, but the moment he tries to get up again, he’s jerked right back.

His manager is holding the back of his collar, and you’re disappearing into the crowd. Was…was Manager Kim always this strong? He can’t even budge, can’t even run after you after he’d finally been reunited with you again.

“Choi Yeonjun, that’s enough!”

He blinks, remembering belatedly just where he is right now.

There’s still a line of people waiting for him. Yeonjun drops back to his seat, his manager losing her grip on his shirt, and he brings himself back after a round of inhales and exhales. It’s alright, he thinks to himself. It’s gonna work out. “Sorry about that,” he hums, smiling at a now different face sitting in front of him. “What did you tell me your name was?”

You’ve been separated from him yet again, but this time it’s fine. He’s not anxious. He’s certain that it won’t take centuries for you to return to each other, no— it won’t be long until then because this time, he’s not dead.

You’re both still alive at this point in time.

And that enough assures him that he’s going to find his way back to you.

“Next!”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt scenarios

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itskattkm · 4 months

Text

The air in my Lungs

Chapter 7

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A stroke of fate changes you and leads you into the arms of Cairo Sweet. Will she be your downfall or save you?

Warnings: 18+, loss of parent, Grief, Injuries, Smoking, Trauma, anxiety, sexual content, student x teacher mentioned, harm, blackmailing, bad grammar

A/N: Based and inspired by Millers Girl. Mr. Miller himself isn’t really present but will be mentioned. Hope you guys enjoy.

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You were sitting in your car in front of Cairos mansion. The engine was off since 10 minutes already. You were taking some deep breaths and tried to stay calm. You weren’t sure why you felt nervous. Well that wasn’t true, there were indeed a few reasons but you couldn’t define which one of them made you feel like that. Made you sit in your car in silence for 10 minutes instead of walking to that damn door that looked like a three meter high door that was part of a castle. Well Cairo lived in a mansion so yeah… it almost looked like a castle for you. You leaned back in your drivers seat and closed your eyes for a second before looking to the duffle bag on the passenger seat.

Why did you have to bring a bikini? I mean the answer to that was pretty obvious in someway. But you still were t so sure about that. The more you thought about the fact that you were in front of Cairo Sweets Manson, the best student in your grade, the daughter of the most successful lawyers in Texas… “Holy shit” you whispered quite to yourself when the moment you realize that you were dating that girl, were intimate with her, hit you hard. Now your mind started racing like crazy, why did you need a bikini?

Why did you need to get wet? Did she want to have sex again? Was this going to be something out of her fantasies? Story’s she wrote? No one had rode her writing before, except the director and one teacher that isn’t here anymore.

Everyone talked about this in school, it was the biggest scandal the school had ever faced. Your old teacher Mr. Miller used to see the talent Cairo had in her writings. Turned out he’s used that for his own pleasures. Blackmailing her and forcing her to write those things. Some of the students were sure they weren’t just fantasies. Some thought that Cairo and Miller had an inappropriate relationship. You didn’t cared about the rumors back then but you were sure that Miller was forcing this and taking advantage of it all. Anyways. At some point Cairo told the director everything. There was a huge process wich Miller for sure lost. After that no one had seen him ever again, and the school had way much more female teachers. You rolled your eyes at this solution, like a female teacher wouldn’t do the same, anyways. That was the gossip, that were the rumors. So everyone knew that Cairo could write pretty intense stuff. But now one had seen it before.

Suddenly there was a loud thunder growl. You looked up and stopped getting lost in your thought. “Okay…” you whispered and grabbed your duffle bag before getting out of the car. You ran over the gravel path, the little stones moving under your shoes, making a sound that seemed very satisfying to you. You walked towards the porch that seemed to go around the whole mansion. You were impressed by the big oak tress around the house, and the facade was a combination of the color withe with brownstone highlites along the windows or columns. It indeed was the perfect definition of a mansion. Something between modern architecture and renaissance. You loved it and could watch the mansion for a quite long time.

Soft splashes caught your attention. You turned around to see that it’s been raining now. Leaves were bouncing in the tress when they had been hit by the raindrops wich started to get heavier. Another thunder growled over the town and made the whole scene in front of your eyes look like you were in some mystery thriller. You turned around and hesitated to knock on the door. Cairo would never hear your knock, that mansion was too big. So your finger moved to the doorbell and you pressed the black round button slowly.

Within a few seconds, opened the door and your eyes met Cairos body. Covered by a black silk robe while she was wearing a dark green bikini. You automatically tilted your head and couldn’t help but chuckle nervous “are you walking around like this at home always?”

Cairo smiled and started to get nervous with your eyes lingering on her body. She closed her robe and let you in, saying “to be honest? On hot summer days yes”.

She closed the door behind you and you were standing in the big entry hall. Large stairs in the middle of it, with two different directions leading to the second floor. “Your home is really aesthetic. No wonder you’re such a good writer. I can feel the inspirations everywhere” you said while letting it sink in.

When Cairo moved to your side you asked

“Okay… so why the bikinis?”. Cairo smiled mischievous and had a glint in her eyes while walking past you saying “follow me”. Without hesitation you did so and were able to see a bit more of the mansion. Cairo guided you through the west corridor. Interesting art pieces were on the walls and on some furniture you could see a few family pictures. You smiled warm, seeing the portraits of every family member, you wondered if they were real or just ordered like that, so it would look like it was painted. But your instinct told you that they were painted.

Soon you reached the end of the hallway. Cairo opened a dark wooden door. With wide eyes you looked around seeing a big indoor pool. But what made it even more impressing were all the tropical plants, the glass box the whole room was put in. You could see the sky, the woods around the house. You were speechless “to your right is a room where you can get changed” said Cairo calm and walked into the opposite direction. I looked after her shy and then went into the room she told me to go to.

I entered it curious and felt immediately like I was in a spa or something. I didn’t hesitated for long and got changed.

You looked at yourself in one of the mirrors there. Did you feel nervous? Yes. Was the fact that you were only wearing a bikini making you feel a bit shy? Yes. But why? Wasn’t it the same like in swimming class? Wasn’t it the same like being naked together in bed? That question made your heart beat faster. You took a deep breath and then let the air escape your lungs slowly.

Cairo was watching some beetles walking on the leaves of the monstera she was standing in front. When she heard soft steps behind her she turned around with a flirtatious smirk. Her eyes immediately on your body. Watching you crossing your arms and looking at her with a mischievous smile “you seem to be a bit distracted” you said quite making Cairo chuckled before she looked up into your eyes. She indeed was starting. Mostly at your breasts.

“So did you…” she said teasing and made you almost blush. You nodded, beaten by your girl and turned towards the pool. The grey clouds outside and the warm lights in the glass pool house made you feel a bit relaxed.

“So what was exactly your plan? Or did you just wanted to see me half naked?” You said surprisingly calm. Cairo laughed slight and walked a few steps forward. Stopping in front of you to make you look at her again.

You were so nervous the whole time that you didn’t looked at her sensible, seeing that Cairo was wearing her hair in a bun. You’ve never seen her with her hair together… or up before. Your eyes softened as you got lost in her almost black eyes, only seeing the reflection of the lights in the pool house.

“So why isn’t my girlfriend kissing me yet?” She asked bold while pulling her arms around your shoulders. You smiled and felt impressed cause she used your own words against you. Cairo enjoyed your reaction and pulled you in before kissing you softly.

Your body relaxed and your mind became blank. Air left your lungs when her lips separated from yours. “So my dear… why the bikinis? What’s going on in this frightening creative mind of yours?” You whispered feeling less nervous.

Cairo was smiling seducing and moved her hands down your shoulders to grab your hands. Backwards she walked towards the pool. “After you told me about the conversation you had with the coach, and about the agreement you made…” she slowly walked down a few stairs that were guiding into the pool. The water already covering Cairos knees. “I thought I should help you… cause you can’t get over a fear in just one day. And forcing you to swim one track per week? Only to give you a panic attack? That’s doesn’t seem logical to me” Cairo said serious and held the eye contact with you.

You were taking slower steps when she tried to make you followed her. But the more she got into the water the more you hesitated. You looked down, the turquoise water was moving in tiny waves because of Cairos movements. So that was what Cairo meant when she texted you “I’ll make sure you won’t fail”. Her intentions were cute, but you didn’t felt ready for this confrontation.

“Look at me” she said reassuring and squeezed your hands. You looked up into her dark eyes. You weren’t sure if you liked this at all, looking at her with slight frustration. “Hey…” Cairo said so soft that it made your body react with goosebumps. She walked a step towards you. Almost on the same height as you now because of the stairs. “I’m sure you can stand in the water…” she said reassuring. You sighed “yes but that’s not the problem…” you said hesitant. Your body wasn’t that stiff anymore so Cairo kept going into the water backwards with you. One step after another. Going down the stairs. Feeling how surprisingly warm the water was.

The moment you reached the end of the stairs, the water was going up to your chest. You stood still and didn’t planned to go further. You stayed there, near the stairs and the edge of the pool. “What is it then?” Asked Cairo quiet and let go of your hands, watching your body language. You watched the water with so much sceptic… like the water was going to turn alive any moment and do something to you. “Being in contact with it is okay… I just don’t like to be under water” you said almost not audible.

Cairo understood. As Someone who was trapped in a car under the water? She wouldn’t be excited about that too.

“Little Stepps” she whispered and gentle pushed you back towards the stairs. “Sit down… so the water would only reach your throat”. You looked back and forth in the water, your heart racing. The feeling of Cairos hand moving back into yours made you focus on her. Without speaking she slowly went into her knees. You followed her movements by sitting down on the stairs, till the water was reaching your throat. So you and Cairo were on the same height again. She was caressing your hand to make your mind drift away less. “What are you feeling now?” She asked, looking you in the eyes with pure attention.

“I feel like I’m having some heavy weight on my chest… and I can’t make the memories stop… it’s like seeing it in flashbacks. It’s also making my ears go numb” you tried to explain in a calm way. But your heart was beating already pretty hard. Cairos hands rested now on your knees before she moved closer to you and kissed you gently and long on the lips.

Your eyes fell shut immediately. Feeling heavy like stones. Your body was learning forward. Melting right into her touch. Min completely blank. Only her lips were there. Waves of goosebumps didn’t stopped to appear from now on. As Cairos lips left yours in a tender way she whispered, still close to you while caressing your tights now “what do you feel now? Can you name me three things?”

You leaned slightly forward, your forehead resting on hers. Eyes still closed as you tried to focus on your surroundings. “I feel your fingertips moving soft above my tights” you swallowed your saliva “and the small hairs rising up on the back of my neck along the cold skin of yours on my forehead” a peaceful whisper.

Cairo smiled warmhearted “what do you hear?” Your ears twitched light when you tried to focus on that now. “The rain hitting the glass house… the water flows into the drain and… my heartbeat” another wave of goosebumps took control of your body. You felt Cairos hand moving around your waist. Her lips brushing slight over yours, making them tingle. You lean in, craving for them to touch and as you did so, you felt like floating while your lips met.

Cairo moved her arms fully around you, holding your body with hers the moment your lips met. She was feeling glad about this. Hopefully about the process and mostly proud of you. „Why are we doing this again?“ you said with a fake confused expression. "To help you y/n... Don't think of this as a test. Just think of this as... A good time to bond." Cairo said softly while gently pulling you away from the stairs and into the middle of the pool now. She felt like you were feeling a little nervous right now but she wanted this to go well for both her and you. Cairo just wanted to help you and she also wanted this to be a memorable experience for you too.

You followed her quite while she didn’t let go of your hand. She just wanted it to feel like a fun and memorable time for you now. She wasn't gonna be strict with you and she wasn't gonna force you to swim by yourself like Coach Rey probably would. Cairo just wanted you to feel comfortable and she didn't wanted you to be afraid anymore. Not as long she was by your side. The further the both of you went into the middle of the pool the more the water rose up your throat.

"It's okay y/n... We'll just take things slowly for now and we'll figure all this out." Cairo said with a gentle tone as she grabbed you tighter by the hand now and slowly started to move you away from the shallow end and towards the deeper part of the pool now. She didn't want you to feel afraid now, but rather she wanted you to feel safe and at ease. At some point you felt the water touching your chin, you clenched your teeth and stiffed your body so you wouldn’t move, you didn’t wanted to go further. Cairo noticed y/n trying to stay still right now. "Y/n..." Cairo said with a gentle tone now while looking at you right now. She felt like you were trying to avoid moving further and she didn't wanted you to feel like that but to rather feel completely comfortable in this situation right now.

"Y/n, it's okay. I'll be right here with you. I'll make sure you're safe the entire time." Cairo said as she squeezed your hand tightly now and looked at you right now. „Yeah I know but… just…“ you sighed and said „no“ trying to find a reason to just say ‚no‘ slightly nervous. Cairo saw that you were trying to avoid moving to the deep end now. She felt like there was some underlying fear in you about this whole situation. Cairo also had a feeling that you were embarrassed about it too.

"Y/n... You know I would never put you into any situation that makes you uncomfortable." Cairo said softly while looking at you again. She felt like y/n felt like she was gonna make her go farther in the deep end but she also felt like you were trying to avoid what Cairo wanted. You laughed nervous and tried to hide your trembling emotions behind a smile saying „yeah I believe you that… but still…“

"Y/n, come on. I know that you're worried and embarrassed but I know you can do this." Cairo said as she gently took both of your hands again and moved closer to the deep end of the pool now. She looked at you with a calm and gentle expression on her face.

"If you're worried that you'll drown or something, don't be. I'm a strong swimmer and I will make sure that nothing happens to you. You'll be alright y/n..." Cairo said while trying to soothe y/n fear.

You were chuckling about the situation you were in and looked away a bit shy. Cairo felt like y/n was still very hesitant right now and she didn't know how to get her to go to the deep end without making you feel like she was in danger. But Cairo wanted you to feel safe.

"I mean it y/n... I promise you that you're safe and that I will not let anything happen to you. I like you a lot y/n. And I honestly want you to feel safe right now." Cairo said with a light and gentle smile while looking at you now. A quite sight left you before you let go of Cairos hands and swam over the deeper part of the pool very fast, only to get to the edge so you could hold onto it. You may seemed a bit calm but there were signs that you felt complete panic inside if you. Cairo watched y/n swim over the deeper end of the pool and she felt happy to see her make some bit of progress. But she still wanted you to actually swim in the deep end, and not just het it over you so you could hold onto the edges of the pool.

"You can do this y/n... You gotta swim now, not just hold onto the edges of the pool." Cairo said softly while grabbing y/n left hand again. "You've come so far y/n. And I'm proud of you... But you still gotta go a tiny bit farther now."

„No I’m good thanks for helping“ You said in a joking manner to avoid this all and tried to climb out but Cairo pressed you against the edge to keep you there. Both her arms resting on the edge, beside your shoulders. Cairo knew that you were using humor to hide your emotions here. And even though Cairo wanted to respect y/n wishes to not continue from here, she also wanted to make sure you faced your fear now. Even if it was maybe to much for now.

"Y/n... There's really no point in trying to get out of the pool now. We're already in here, might as well take that step now. Plus, I know you can do this y/n. You're smart, you're sweet, and I know you're brave too." Cairo responded softly to you while holding onto the edge and not letting you climb out now.

„You think I’m sweet?“ You said with a cute wide smile in a slight teasing tone to change the subject and not even cared about the other things she just said. Cairo could see your cute and wide smile here. And as cheesy as it was... you were actually pretty sweet to her now. She could feel your playful and teasing tone in your voice, but Cairo liked it. Y/n was just being herself and she felt so happy for you right now.

"Oh you know I do y/n. And you know that I like you too. So come on be a good girlfriend... You've come this far, might as well follow it through." Cairo said gently with a slight tease, while looking at y/n smiling softly now. „Go easy on me“ you said quite with a shy smile. „We’re in the water right? Let me get used to that before making me go to the deep“ you said calm but there was slight anxiety in your voice. Cairo felt like y/n was a still embarrassed. She wanted to be gentle to you so that she made you feel safe right now.

"Oh don't worry y/n... I won't make you go too far. You can start by swimming at the middle of the pool first. Just to make yourself more comfortable with the water." Cairo said while smiling gently at y/n, trying to make her feel at ease right now. Another sighed escaped your mouth, you didn’t wanted to do this but you did it anyway. Cause you didn’t liked to argue long.

After swimming for a while in the middle of the pool you were back on a point were you could stand. The water only reaching your shoulders. You may were swimming, but you did it fast to get over it.

The moment you stoped and stayed at the same spot you felt like a child. That was scared of water and needed to learn swim.

Cairo was just happy that you at least started to swim, and slowly try to get comfortable with the water now. She thought it was funny how you were acting a bit like a child with their fear of water, but you were too cute to not want to show her that you could do this right now.

"See y/n... You're already swimming just fine right now. And you're doing everything right so far. You can do this y/n. Just slower maybe" Cairo said with a light and reassuring voice while looking at you now.

"Y/n... You don't look like a stupid child at all. And you don't even need to learn how to swim honestly. But I just want to help you face your fear. Don't you think it's a great thing that you're at least trying to overcome your fear? That means we're making progress here." Cairo said softly while looking at y/n now.

But Cairo felt like y/n was also a bit frustrated at her fear of water. So she felt like she was also doing this for herself. Your body was still slightly tense „You know. I used to love swimming. Water. It calmed me down in ways… it’s hard to explain. I used to visit pretty often water parks back then. I also have a vhs with my first experience in a water park. My mom played with me on the tiny chute and I fooled my dad by throwing a ball into the water again and again so he needed to bring it back.

While telling this your smile grew wider and you got lost in the memory. "Aw that sounds like such a nice memory y/n. I feel like that could have definitely had some role in why you used to love swimming so much, probably because of the calm it brought to you back then." Cairo said softly with a light smile while looking at you now. She could see in y/n words how much she used to love swimming before, which made Cairo happier for you. Yeah you said quite and felt slight goosebumps on your body while looking down. You watched the water move around your body.

The memories of your car accident, falling into the river trapped under water in the car where still there. Cairo noticed the goosebumps on your skin. And she saw how y/n was still staring down in the water.

"Y/n... Do you want to talk about what happened? I mean, it can be really scary and traumatic. But You gotta talk to someone about it y/n. You shouldn't push it deep down in your mind and not let that out. And those flashbacks you have? Those are memories and will never completely fade away. But talking to someone can help reduce those memories and make it something that is bearable for you y/n.“

You sighed quite and looked at Cairo

„What am I supposed to say? Yeah I was in an awful accident, I was scared and defiantly in pain. I was dead for a few minutes. Brought back to life and felt like something was missing. Someone was missing…“ The last part fell silent in a whisper when you thought of your mother. Cairo saw that y/n was now looking at her, she could see the sadness in y/n eyes when she was talking about her accident, including how she felt like she was missing someone. Obviously, your mother.

You chuckled slight „It’s somehow funny… my dad and I were so depended on her… she used to joke that when she wouldn’t be here someday that we wouldn’t make it without her… and we never thought it would really happen“ you whispered . Trying to keep your emotions behind a weak smile. You looked up to the ceiling. Watching the rain crashing down on the glass. It was heavy, and there was probably going to be another thunderstorm. Cairo knew that y/n was still hurting from the loss of her mother. And she knew that y/n felt like she had to face this grief all alone.

"I know Y/n... I know that you miss your mom so much right now. You're so strong y/n. And you and your dad are both gonna live on and continue in your life. And you know what? I know that your mom is still with you right now. And that she's still watching over you y/n. She's never truly gone y/n. You just gotta always remember that."

„I hope so…“ you said with slight fear.

„The good thing is, my mom was never scared of death. But I? Oh… I was pretty bad and now more then ever since I was dead for a few minutes…“ you said thinking about it and how it felt. Something you wanted forget. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with death already y/n. Trust me, I get it too. But you know that your mom is still gonna look over you right? She might not be here physically anymore. But she'll always be there watching over you. Trust me, I know that you might feel scared... But you don't have to deal with this alone. You can always lean on me if you ever need it."

I leaned my head back in the water watching the rain falling down into the glass house we’ve been in. My ears were filled by water. A sound that seemed like it was quite was audible. Even though there was silence, I could hear the water movements, the drain and some other typical pool sounds.

„I always loved to go swim when the weather was worse. I liked the Comparison of warm and cold. Storms outside while I was swimming like nothing of the world outside could get to me. Enjoying the warmth, the sounds of the water, even kids playing around and the background noises of people talking. The smell of French fries wich were sold. Me lying on one of the swimming pool lounger and falling asleep“

While you were counting all the things you used to love about waterparks, you felt the goosebumps going over your face.

Soon you felt Cairos arms moving around your shoulders, her body leaning into yours. You looked down to meet her eyes. Both your noses brushing. Being close. Then she placed her lips on yours gently. You felt that your heart was beating a lot faster from the sudden kiss, and you blushed a lot from it too. Feeling her bodyweight on yours you felt like you were complete. It was like you were holding the summer in your hands. She tasted so sweet… even though she smelled like nature. Something soothing and calming. But also Smokey. Like burned wood, or maybe it was just the cigarettes? But no this was different. This wasn’t intoxicated, it was relieving.

Cairo kept kissing you softly, and she also started moving her fingers through the back of your hair as she felt like you needed to be comforted now. And loved.

Her tongue was parting your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat. Surprising yourself, how satisfying this felt for you.

While kissing you Cairo slowly moved the both of you to the deeper part of the pool. Making you go there without realizing. Cairo noticed how deep the side of the pool they were at now, she was losing the ground under her feet. You were walking on your toes, since Cairo was smaller than you, you reached for her butt with your hands and held her tight. Her legs were wrapping around your back, her arms around your shoulders. You were holding her tight on your body, feeling a need of Closeness and desire.

Cairo broke the kiss, breathing heavy against your lips, her hands resting on your shoulders, her legs crossed tight around your body “do you trust me?” She whispered.

“Yes?” You panted slightly confused and in the next moment. Your air left your body. Water making you go blind for a second before your eyes fell shut and you were surrounded by darkness. Pressure making your head go into a survival mode. Your heartbeat the only thing you could hear. And then… it all disappeared. Faded away. You felt the air coming back into your lungs. That was what your mind made you think when Cairos lips were pressed into yours.

She was using the distraction to push you under water, hoping the kiss would keep you calm. Hoping you wouldn’t think about the accident at all.

You wanted to inhale her air. You wanted her closer so you pulled her into your body. Not thinking about separating at all. Your fingers moving into her hair, kissing her back passionately. And then... Cairo felt how y/n was immediately following her to kiss her under the water.

She felt that your anxiety was going away completely while kissing her under the water. You felt like your fear of water went away now too. Y/n felt like cairo was always her safe place regardless of where she was. It didn't matter if she was in the water, or if she was in normal air. Y/n felt safe with cairo everywhere.

The moment both came back to the surface. Y/n looked breathless at Cairo and said “Okay… that was mean but it worked” Cairo smiled cheeky "But.. it did work." She said softly while looking at y/n now. She felt breathless herself, and it was easy for Cairo to see how y/n was the same.

Cairo laughed slightly. She felt like the both of them were now even and felt more relaxed now too. She felt even more of a connection with you. That they shared a moment like this with each other now. “Let’s relax now” she said and nudged your face playfully before giving you a soft kiss on the cheek and guiding you out of the pool. You still felt overwhelmed by this and were glad to just enjoy some time with Cairo now, without stressing about the water at all.

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #Cairo sweet x yn #cairo sweet millers girl #millers girl #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #fanfiction #Jenna

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ja3yun · 5 months

Text

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.4

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: suggestive, heartache (lots of it), flirty heeseung bc i can't resist, angst, confrontations, pet names, ynjake are so obvious it hurts.

wc: 9.7k+

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

part 3 | part 5

a/n: so i was gonna stop this chapter earlier than it is here but I think having the last scene in this chapter makes sense! also I know nowt about physics so when they start talking about it just pretend it makes sense pls <3

In the guest room, Eunseo is deciding what to wear, it’s between her usual jeans and a crop top or playsuit she bought 2 years ago that she swears makes her look ‘snatched’. In your eyes, she always looks beautiful. “Why are you stressing? It’s just dinner.”

“Um,” She looks at you like you have 12 heads, “YOU should be stressing, Heeseung and you are sat next to each other.”

“Wait, what? We have designated seats?” You question.

Rolling her eyes she fixes her hair in the mirror, “Obviously, I mean, there are like 14 of us.” You knew that but no one came up with a breakfast seating plan so why now?

“I’m fine in this,” You look down at your midi dress and white cropped cardigan, “It’s simple and cute, and I am NOT trying to impress Hee.” You cross your arms to protest but Eunseo turns sharply and quips up, “You just called him Hee! That’s a nickname, see, destined to be.” If only she knew. In your defense, it was never that Heeseung was unattractive but Jaeyun was the only person you ever thought of, you didn’t have to think about anyone else.

You point to the playsuit for her to choose. As she goes to get changed there is a knock at the door, “Come on in.” you say just lower than a shout and Mrs Sim walks into the room. Urgently, you stand up and brush yourself down, ironing out the creases as best you can, “Hi Mrs. Sim. What can I do you for?”

“I’m just here to let you girls know that everyone is downstairs waiting for you.” She nods and eyes you up and down. “Tell Eunseo to hurry up please.” She smiles and goes to leave but you hold her arm to stop her.

“Why didn’t you use the money you saved up for this wedding?” You question, too impatient to wait and ask Heeseung later on. With a sigh she turns to you, cursing Heeseung’s name under her breath.

“She’s rich, I’m not, the family didn’t need my money.” Her face is screwed up, wanting to tell you more, wanting to tell you the truth, "Honestly, Y/N? We aren't thrilled with the wedding but at the end of the day it is happening. Nothing I can do."

“Mrs. Sim?” You call out to her as she is leaving, “I missed you.”

Her shoulders slump but a smile adorns her face, “I missed you too, Y/N. More than anything.” As she finishes her sentence you rush to hug her tightly, making up for the lost years. “Shh.” Her hand strokes your back as you hold in your sobs, “You had your reasons,” Mrs. Sim pulls away and looks you deep in the eyes, “If those reasons don’t matter anymore, you should do what you think is best.” As you look at Jaeyun’s mother leave you take in her words and how she looked at you, like she was telling you a secret you didn’t know, and you’re still clueless.

Eunseo emerges from the bathroom, dressed and ready for the night, “Ta-da!”

You give her a thumbs up and a weak smile, “You look amazing.” She jumps happily and clasps her hands. “Then if we are both ready,” She reaches her hands to yours, “Let's go.”

Making your entrance to the dining room was weirdly calm, knowing you had Heeseung by your side set your mind at ease. Eunseo addresses everyone with a hello and bow and you follow, the whole family smiles and greets you. A single place next to Heeseung and…

Jaeyun.

“Shit” you mumble under your breath as you walk towards your seat, smiling at everyone as you pass. Heeseung’s hand strokes your hip, guiding you to your seat, “I was wondering when you were going to come down.” His smile dazzles up at you as you tuck your dress under and sit on the white satin seats. The set up for this dinner is a little fancy but this must just be how rich people did things.

“Eunseo takes forever to get dressed.” Playfully rolling your eyes you get comfy, ignoring the tempting presence to your right, but it’s harder than expected. Jaeyun is wearing beige trousers with a mint green jumper accented by a white collar, and he looks beautiful, like the sun on a cold winter day, “Hi, Jake.”

His face frowns, not used to you calling him Jake, “Hello, Y/N.” His head tilts forward in your direction before facing forward pretending to listen to the conversation happening between his and Yeoreum’s parents. You want to reach out for his hand, tell him you missed him, tell him what a stupid mess you are, but as you stretch your hand out, Heeseung’s fingers interlock with yours. “Don’t” He whispers, pulling your body with his other hand to face him, “Focus on me, Y/N.” You nod and shift to Heeseung as he smiles, “You’re too close to the attentive members of the family, pretend I’m the one you want even for a few hours.”

It takes all your will power but heading his advice, you focus on him. “Thank you, Hee.”

Jaeyun hears it all, how Heeseung’s voice holds adoration, he sees how your fingers are intertwined. He is furious, his jaw clenched, and as much as he tries to remind himself he shouldn’t be possessive over you, it comes so naturally that he can’t help it. In every atom of his being, you are still his and he is still yours.

Heeseung’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand to settle your nerves. As Mr. and Mrs. Son bring out dinner, they place a vegetarian meal in front of you, and you glance at everyone else who has steak on their plate. You aren’t a vegetarian by any means but you are thankful since you hate red meat in general. But how did they know? You never told them about your distaste for red, especially bloody and rare, meat, and that's when a voice interjects your thoughts, “I told the cook you were veggie since you can’t eat any red meat that isn’t burnt to the heavens.” A chuckle follows the sentence and you turn to your side to face Jaeyun.

“Dig in!” Mrs. Son exclaims and gestures to the expansive amount of food in front of you all. You don’t know where to begin but Heeseung helps you as he picks up the bowl of marrowfat peas and scoops some onto your glistening white plate. You hold it up as he continues to pile the plate with food for you, not asking what you like because through what seemed like 20 million conversations about you with Jake, he learned enough about you. Heeseung sets the tongs and spoon down in their respective places and glances at you.

“Thank you.” your voice comes out no louder than a whisper. Just like the pepper incident earlier, Jaeyun knew you well enough to cater to your needs and it made your stomach flip. He nods courteously and faces his fiance once again, leaving you grateful but your heart is tired of pretending that his actions aren’t making you fall more in love with him. All the effort you made to try and bury your feelings deeply is unraveling with every passing moment.

“That okay?” It was more than okay, he picked all your favourites, but you simply nodded and smiled at him in gratitude and he smiled at you briefly before eating the food in front of him.

This was abnormal for you. Your parents were loving and affectionate of course, but you never really had dinner like this, a feast upon your eyes and having the option to choose. Usually, your mum or dad would come home from work, come in, find something in the freezer, and shove it into the oven. Nothing fancy, nothing extraordinary, but enough. You were always grateful.

“Baby, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun says lowly and without thinking you reach out and pass him it, which he accepts gladly. You don’t notice the air shift until Heeseung’s eyes fall on you, wide and uncomfortable, and unfortunately, he isn’t the only one with that look on his face. As you scan around, half of the table, including Mr. and Mrs. Sim are looking at you incredulously, and then it dawns on you what you did. You aren’t his baby anymore.

Jaeyun is none the wiser, pouring the problematic salt on his food before setting it down and digging into his food. Yeoreum side-eyes you both, and only you seem to notice, making you extra uncomfortable because at least if Jaeyun acknowledged it, you could both cover your asses together, but you guess this is up to you now.

“Oh um, the salt was just there, thought I would save Yeoreum the hassle.” You say not daring to look at anyone. Your voice sparks Jaeyun’s attention and all eyes shift to him, who simply looks at you with confusion, but when your eyes plead with him to say something he understands the gravitas of the situation, “Thanks, Y/N. I guess the salt was closer to you.”

It’s innocent, the scenario that just happened, but after the whispers, the apple juice, and now this, someone could easily suspect something. You nod and go to eating your food, however, you still feel eyes on you. Yeoreum. Her gaze is too intense for you not to feel but you don’t chance a look at her.

“Come here.” Heeseung’s raspy voice flutters through your ears and you look at him, his face inches from your own and then, his lips on your forehead. They felt different, foreign compared to your ex-lovers, but pleasant. Heeseung and you had observing your surroundings as a common trait so when he saw Yeoreum eyeing you, he had to throw her for a curve.

Yeoreum’s eyes widen and fall back to normal in record time causing Jaeyun to follow her stare.

Red. He sees red as he witnesses another man’s lips on you, regardless of who it is, it should only be his. He grips his cutlery tightly and rips his gaze away before he does something crazy like grab his best friend and beat him to the last inches of his life.

“Hee, it’s okay.” You smile and place a hand over his, “Let's eat, yeah?” Jaeyun scoffs and flicks his food across the plate, suddenly losing his appetite. Jaeyun has always been jealous, this isn’t new information to you, but it makes your brain wonder how he still gets riled up like this even though he isn’t yours anymore.

Your hand instinctively wants to reach to Jaeyun again to reassure him, but you stop yourself, aware of how that would make the situation a million times worse but also, he wasn’t yours to comfort.

The meal goes on and no one bats an eye at you anymore, well, the two boys beside you steal glances as you all eat, but the majority have disregarded salt-gate and you’re thankful.

“Jake, how is the new job?” This is the first time you’ve heard about his new life outside Yeoreum as Mrs. Son asks him the dull question and it makes you remember that the Jaeyun you knew wasn’t the Jaeyun sitting next to you right now.

“It’s good. I’m still learning the ropes but the team is super nice.” He smiles and bows his head lowly when addressing his seniors, something he always did with your parents. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much at all. The answer seems to be acceptable enough as Mrs Son smiles and doesn’t press further.

Jaeyun smiles at you and his demeanor changes to one of glee, “You remember the Jo twins that started that enterprise with aerodynamic cars?” He asks quietly and you nod, eyes getting bigger as you piece the puzzle together before he can even finish the sentence, “Well for my dissertation I did a study on aerodynamic cars and their resiliency in weather adverse conditions, focusing on autonomous vehicles, and they loved it,” His eyes sparkled just like they did all those years ago when he spoke about science stuff, “Offered me a starting position with them in assisting the theory I proposed.”

“What’s the job?” You whisper to him but don’t look up, playing with your food just as he did earlier in the evening.

It was in that moment of Jaeyun speaking that you realised as unorthodox as your leaving was, it was 100 percent the right decision. He had stars in his eyes that would never shine as bright if he hadn’t gone to Apollo and got this opportunity, and for the first time this week, you’re content. Seeing him achieve a dream, or at least on the way to achieving it, made you feel elated.

“I’m so proud of you, Jaeyun.” It was a sincere statement and Jaeyun smiled widely at your words, like they were the words he had been waiting to hear his whole life. His heart is beating rapidly and you think you can hear it thumping against his ribcage, but you don’t mention it. He thanks you and that’s when Yeoreum pulls you both back to reality.

“My Jakey is so smart, aren’t you.” She caught onto your conversation halfway through his excited outburst, “I have no clue what it means but-”

“So you would propose a framework that tested all the elements to understand just how reliable self-driving cars truly are when faced with weather stress and how to adapt them to overcome the stressors?” You don’t mean to butt in but you always loved to speak about these things with Jaeyun, even if it was basic-level knowledge you had.

His focus was on you, his puppy energy radiating through and if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now, “Exactly! Fuck, the main focus these developers had on the vehicles was sensors that focused on detecting other cars and members of the public but say there is a massive hurricane coming, the sensors would trip out, I proposed a study to test the sensors in adverse weather conditions; fog, rain, wind, heat, all of them.”

Jaeyun rambles on about his theories and you fall right back into how it used to be. You listen intently and learn about something you didn’t care about until he starts speaking about it, and he teaches you something new. It was just like old times. Almost.

“Babe, Y/N doesn’t want to hear all that.” Yeoreum laughs and strokes his arm, “Sorry, Y/N, he gets into all this complicated sciencey stuff that no one has a clue about and forgets to stop.” You notice his face turn red in embarrassment as if he’s just been caught doing something indecent. There is a silence that follows Yeoreum’s words until you speak up.

“I think it’s interesting, I would love to hear more about it.”

He’s so in love with you and he really feels it at its purest form in this moment. It’s a simple thing to listen to his interest and he’s grateful you want to engage more in it. You’ve always been like this, supportive of his ways, never judgmental or dismissive. He’s thankful for you.

“You might be the only one.” Yeoreum and her parents laugh, but as you scan the top half of the table, you see Mr and Mrs Sim smile at you, appreciative. You give Jaeyun a look as if to tell him to continue he shakes his head. “It’s okay, it’s boring anyway.”

Your heart breaks a little seeing the fire in his eyes extinguish as he goes back to eating his food. There isn’t any part of you that hates Yeoreum, but right now you are not her biggest fan, but you let it go. His mood changed but he tried to hide it from everyone, smiling and laughing with them. Recklessly, you place a hand on his thigh and squeeze it to reassure him just like you always used to. Usually, it was to comfort him during his friend's teasing, but now seemed as good a time as ever. His eyes drop to where your hand is situated and he smiles, his left hand weighs itself on yours and he’s calmer. “Tell me later. I want to know all about it.” You whisper to him.

“Thank you, Princess.” The nicknames he used to call you fall so easily out his mouth that he never has time to stop them, but you don’t mind. “And by the way,” He says, his voice lower than ever, “I was asking you for the salt earlier.”

______

The next day, Mrs. Son enters you and Eunseo’s temporary room as you straighten your hair. She is dressed up casually for the first time since you arrived, even her pyjamas seem classy and elegant, so as your eyes take in her loose mom jeans, a grey old university jumper that reads ‘Boston University’ across the chest, and her hair covered with a navy baseball cap.

You remember all the walks you and the Sim family went on, your hand glued to Jaeyun’s as you took in the sights of the city, sometimes even taking hikes of your own early in the morning to watch the sunrise. It wouldn’t be like that this time.

“Girls, we’re going for a walk, Jake’s father's idea,” she rolls her eyes at Eunseo who chuckles, continuing to apply her strawberry chapstick, “Wear something comfortable.” Her sigh indicates that she is in fact not thrilled with the choice, never mind the clothing situation. Not to stereotype but it doesn’t seem that the Son family is common enough for a simple walk.

“Um, I think I’ll stay here, this seems like a family thing.” Your voice is a whisper as you try to get out of seeing Yeoreum take your place beside Jaeyun. This was also a good time to get out of this house and go back home before the wedding. Eunseo shakes her head and stands up.

“Be ready in 5 minutes.” Mrs. Son says and leaves the room. It doesn’t take 5 minutes because with Eunseo it takes 23 minutes and 13 seconds according to her dad who timed her.

“Absolutely not! You’re coming with me. I need my girl to motivate me.” Her eyes are pleading and a pout forming on her lips and you find yourself saying yes, just like you did in that cafe earlier in the week. That was the poorest decision of your life so, this couldn’t be much worse.

We walk downstairs to see everyone waiting and Mr Son is impatient, either from Eunseo’s lack of urgency or because he wants this over and done with just like his wife. “You guys are so impatient, I had to find these cute leggings!” Eunseo scoffs and turns around and models the navy blue leggings that do wonders for her ass.

Jaeyun’s eyes roam over your body as you bend down to put on a pair of old trainers Eunseo dug out from her cupboard so you could match “It’s important to colour match, Y/N! I have a pair of shoes in here just give me a minute” she told you. His teeth find their way to his lip as he bites down, the habit he picked up throughout your relationship because he could never hold in his want for you. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to grab your hips and hold you against him because truthfully he missed your body on his.

“Eunseo, sweetie, you’re going for a walk, not to Seoul Fashion Week.” Mr. Son laughs and starts to tie his shoes. She looks disgusted at her father's insinuation that she would ever wear this outfit to a fashion week and grunts as she sits down, putting on her trainers. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t pack any appropriate attire for this so you’re clad in Eunseo’s tight leggings and crop top. It’s exposing and not something you usually wear but it was either that or a sundress and wedges.

Scared of getting caught ogling you, he turns to his fiance and looks down as she clings to his arm, engrossed by a conversation she is having with his mum. He grabs her face towards his and kisses the side of her mouth, aching for a distraction from you but all his mind is occupied with is you. Even as he kisses Yeoreum, he’s thinking about how your lips used to taste, how they felt, he’s starting to forget how they feel and it sinks his heart into his stomach. All these years without you causing his memory to lapse, only remembering how you used to wear cherry lip balm, or was it oil? He needed to kiss you one more time just so he never forgets.

He feels shitty using Yeoreum as a distraction, kissing her not because he inherently wants to but because at least it keeps his mind and eyes off you.

Yeoreum’s hands glide down his arm as she kisses him back, her lips soft but not yours. He knows it’s wrong, to be thinking about someone else while his fiance is draped over him, her hands in his and giggling as she smooches his face.

You finish tying your shoes and turn round to see Jaeyun’s hand on her waist and mouth all over hers and a wave of sickness comes over you, you can’t do this, not now and not ever. Every time you think you’re okay and can control your emotions he does something that sends you spiraling.

A broad chest blocks your vision of him and you feel two big hands land on your shoulders. Heeseung. You glance up and softly smile at him in gratitude for tearing your eyes away from the horror scene of your love’s tongue down someone else’s throat. Heeseung’s hands squeeze your shoulders and his lips on your temple. You don’t recall Heeseung being affectionate like this before but it has been 4 years since you’ve seen him, he’s probably changed a lot, just like Jaeyun.

“Just stick beside me, yeah?” His voice is gentle and sweet, and you agree to stay with him. He has become your unofficial saviour this week and nothing you do will ever be enough to thank him.

Mr. Sim clears his throat to disrupt the couple’s PDA and starts to speak, “We have two cars to get us to the trail since it’s only,” Mr Sim starts to count heads since some of the family are staying behind,“5,6…9 of us, we should be able to fit 5 and 4. I have a bigger car so I’ll take the 5, Jaeyun can take the 4. Who wants in what car?”

Everyone looks around like it's the first day of school and you’re being asked to partner up. Yeoreum is the first to speak, raising her hand excitedly, “I’m in the car with Jakey obviously.” Jaeyun’s bottom lip protrudes as he nods his head. Of course, it made sense, but knowing you would have to witness her in the passenger seat, his hand probably laid on her thigh, you wanted in the other car more than anything else right now.

“I’ll go with Mr. Sim,” Jaeyun’s eyes dart to yours confused but you shrug it off. Eunseo, who is the opposite of Heeseung, seems to be your worst enemy this trip pipes in, “How about all the adults go in one car and we go in the other? I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t mind sitting on Heeseung’s lap, yeah?” Oh, you are going to kill her. Mr. and Mrs. Sim look between each other and share a personal laugh. You’re glad someone is finding it funny.

“Great! It’s settled then. Let us go.” Mrs. Son barges past everyone to get to her seat, mumbling annoyance along the way.

“It’s fine, I hope you got some meat on those thighs.” You say trying to lighten the mood, and it works for a second. Heeseung laughs and wraps his arm around you and guides you to the car before whispering, “My thighs can hold you just fine, Y/N.”

“You okay with that?” Heeseung’s voice is low but filled with concern, he knew what Eunseo was doing and he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea, but considering you would rather ride with 4 parents, 2 of whom you don’t know and the other 2 aren’t exactly pitching for your team, he guessed you didn’t want to be in Jaeyun’s car.

Heeseung’s laugh runs through your ears and you feel instantly calm.

Jaeyun and Yeoreum get in the front and the three of you sleek into the back. It’s in this moment that confusion clouds your face. “There are enough seats in here? Why would I have to sit on Heeseung’s lap?” Your question is pointed to Eunseo but Jaeyun answers,

“Oh, we have to pick someone up on the way.” His smile was bright and wide, “She’s a diva and likes her own seat.” Tilting your head at him, Jaeyun looks down and laughs lowly as if you should know.

“You can avoid Heeseung’s lap for now until we pick her up.” Eunseo states as she slides into her side. “But after that…” She winks at you as you scoot into the middle seat. Your best friend really was something else.

You decide to focus on the interior of Jaeyun’s old but new to you car. It’s a lot less shabby than the one you knew, with black leather seats that don’t have cracks in them from years of wear and tear, and his old cassette player has been upgraded to a built-in CD system.

“Let’s put on some music!” Yeoreum says as she trifles through a CD case but Jaeyun quickly takes it from her and laughs nervously.

“Why don’t you take the aux like always? I've said before these CD's aren't your thing.” Jaeyun puts the CDs in his glove box and continues to drive forward. It piqued your curiosity about what was in the case. Probably a surprise wedding mixtape he spent forever on with all Yeoreum’s favourite songs, just like he used to do with you. That sickness from earlier starts to bubble, but you swallow it down.

“Fine. Y/N, what do you like to listen to? I know everyone else’s taste but yours!” Yeoreum is so sweet, and it’s killing you a little. If only she was a bitch.

“Um, I think everything,” You say as you watch her add songs into a queue, clearly picking an eclectic mix to keep everyone happy.

The car jerks forward as Jaeyun almost emergency brakes when Heeseung calls you angel. You’re body lunges forward a little at the jerk but Heeseung shields your body, acting as another seatbelt. “Mate, watch what you’re doing.” Heeseung scorns his best friend as he rubs your arms, “You good?” Nodding in response you get comfy again.

“Put some Monsta X on,” Heeseung’s face turns to you as he speaks. “She loves them, don’t you, angel?”

The rest of the car is filled with Yeoreum’s hand-selected playlist and tension between the driver seat and the one behind.

Jaeyun turns into a quaint little area with a few shops and buildings about 20 minutes into the drive. “Are we here already?” you ask Heeseung but he shakes his head. “Did you forget we have a passenger princess to pick up?” You let out a silent ‘oh’ and nod.

As the car stops in the parking lot you shift a little uncomfortable. “I’m going to stretch my legs.” Heeseung steps out of the car to let you out but you stumble out of the car, luckily, Jaeyun is there to catch you, his hands placed on your shoulders to stop you from face-planting. He doesn’t say a word but his expression is laced with concern to which you shake your head and whisper a thank you.

You brush yourself down and straighten up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He says to you and lets his hand linger down your arm. All you can do is nod and watch him leave.

“You know her well.” Oh no. Not another ghost from 4 years past. You can’t face another stern face cursing you to oblivion for your previous actions.

“Who are we picking up?” You stretch your right leg and look at Heeseung who laughs.

Yeoreum squeals and gets out of the car, “There she is!” Your sights set on Yeoreum and follow to where she is staring and your heart leaps out of your mouth. As you cross round the car you see the familiar blonde charging her way to you.

“Layla!” You shout, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face as the dog bounds towards you, happiness evident on her face.

In a blur, you kneel down and she jumps up to give your face sloppy licks. Layla was Jaeyun’s family dog, a precious piece of their family, and admittedly your favourite, even before Jaeyun. “Whose my good girl?” You hug her tight as she barks, her tail wagging excitedly, the feeling of missing each other is mutual. Ruffling her coat she jumps around you and barks loudly. Jaeyun smiles down at you both, and you smile back at him, however, you’re the only two smiling as Yeoreum and Eunseo have a look of bewilderment.

“I thought you said she was reserved around new people?” Eunseo asks Yeoreum who hums to confirm.

You miss out on this as you give Layla long-awaited kisses and cuddles, whispering ‘I missed you’ and ‘good girl’ into her fur.

“Um, Jakey? Isn’t Layla shy around people she doesn’t know? She was like that with me when I first met her.” The question from his fiance brings him back to earth and his smile wipes from his face, clearing his throat to buy him some time to think of an excuse.

“Eh, maybe she just trusts Y/N because she’s with all of us.” A pathetic reasoning but you weren’t exactly any help, too busy playing with the excited animal.

Shit.

Heeseung crouches beside you and gives Layla a pet, nudging you in the process, “Remember where you are, Y/N.”

You look around and everyone’s eyes are on you. “She must just sense I’m a dog person. Are you a dog or cat person, Yeoreum?” If there was one thing you perfected over the years it’s how to deflect situations onto another person and that's through the art of asking them questions about themself.

“I like dogs!” She smiles, “But I do like cats.” Her pondering face is matched with her hand on her cheek, “Jakey, do you think she didn’t take to me because I like cats?”

“Yes!” Jaeyun claps and points to her excitedly, happy to have a reason for this scenario in front of him. “Must be that, Reumie.” His shoulders relax and his eyes fix on Layla. She’s clueless, just happy that you’re back.

Getting back into the car you sit on Heeseung’s lap and Layla looks at you, like if she focuses on anyone else you’ll disappear again. You pet her to reassure her and it doesn’t take long for her to lay her head on your thigh, just happy for your presence. Jaeyun’s heart flips at the scene as he watches it through the rearview mirror.

As you’re getting comfy on Heeseung’s thighs, you hover a little to not put all the pressure of you on him, but Heeseung is Heeseung and he notices. His hands grip your waist and plonk you down until your whole weight is on him. “You won’t break me.” He chuckles and rubs circles into your hips. A slight nod of your head is all you offer him and you get comfy.

Jaeyun starts the car, reversing out the car park, one arm resting on the seat as he looks behind him, for a split second he looks your way but quickly goes back to focusing on not crashing the car, his tongue pointed out the side of his mouth in concentration. You shift in Heeseung’s lap as heat bubbles in your stomach. There is something about Jaeyun driving that always made you think out of church hour thoughts, the way the veins run up his arm, how his tongue pokes out and wets his lips, his one hand on the wheel reversing, it was all so hot. There were times on occasion you couldn’t handle it and got him to take you in the backseat, those were not the thoughts you need right now while you’re on his best friend’s lap.

“Hey,” Heeseung rips your gaze from Jaeyun’s hand with his voice as you turn your head to him, his voice low enough only you can hear, “If you leave a wet patch on my sweatpants I will have you pay for my dry cleaning.” He huffs out a laugh as your face falls and goes bright red.

“I-I, shut up, Hee!” You whisper and slap his chest.

One hour later you arrive and see the couple’s parents waving Jaeyun over. As he parks the car you all clamber out and greet the others, Layla ping-ponging herself between you and Jaeyun.

A tap on your shoulder has you turning to face a serious Eunseo, “How did you know her name was Layla?” The question catches you for a new one but you just spout the same excuse you have this whole trip.

“Jake told me.”

“You know.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot a few times before continuing, “You seem to have spoken to Jake a lot and yet, I haven’t seen you talk to him once.” The tone of her sentence is accusatory but you keep calm.

She hums, “He knew about your distaste for black pepper, you knew he was captain of his high school football team, and I heard him request a vegetarian dish for you to our cook so I presume he knows you hate red meat. All that was way before dinner.” Her stance is strong as she leans back and waits for you to explain, but you can’t.

“W-what do you mean? We spoke last night, about his job and stuff,” your hand points to her, palm faced forward, “you saw.”

“Oh Eunseo, Jaeyun is actually the love of my life, we dated for about 4 years and then I left without a word. Now he’s going to marry your sister and I want to die at the thought.”

That is what you probably shouldn’t say, so you settle with, “Just small talk I guess.” A nervous laugh leaves you but she doesn’t let up. “Y/N-”

At the same time Eunseo is saying your name, Heeseung comes over and hugs you from behind, “You coming, ladies? Or do you want to stay here with all the screaming children?” Heeseung points over Eunseo’s shoulder to the crying toddler and their sleep-deprived parents.

“You two need to be more careful. If Eunseo finds out, she tells Yeoreum, and I don’t think you want to be the topic of that conversation right before the wedding, yeah?”

“Coming!” You say and rush off, grabbing Heeseung’s hand and getting you both out of Eunseo’s earshot. “Thank you.”

He’s right. He always is and it exudes a heavy sigh from your lips. “I know, it’s just so easy to forget.” You admit and his silent nod is all you need before the group of you head for your walk.

It’s peaceful, every so often you throw a stick for Layla, and chatter amongst the parents is all you hear as you make it your mission to not look Jaeyun’s way. Eunseo walks alongside the happy couple and you do as Heeseung suggested and stay by his side. The scenery takes your breath away, the golden sun burning your skin, not a cloud in sight. You take some time to reflect on the past 4 years and realise the sun doesn’t come out so much in Pyeongchang.

“Y/N?” You turn to see Yeoreum looking at you, “Can I ask you something?” Oh no. Eunseo told her, fuck, maybe Mrs. Sim did. Is she going to throw you over the cliff, is all this one big ploy to get rid of you?

“Oh, sure.” You look away and prepare for the worst-case scenario.

“Tell us more about your ex. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Your eyes widen and look straight at Jaeyun who, despite his golden skin, is suddenly pale white. “I don’t know why you broke up with him if you were so perfect for each other.”

Jaeyun and Heeseung look at each other in confusion. They weren’t there for the conversation when the football game was going on, so they had no idea what Yeoreum was talking about.

“Yeah!” It’s Eunseo’s turn to chime in, “Y/N is such a closed book, I still know hardly anything about her. Tell us. You said you had challenges.”

“I-”

“It’s not really our business though, it is? We don’t have to know.” Heeseung speaks up in your defense but Yeoreum just scoffs. “I know about everyone’s exes, I love hearing about them. I know all about yours,” She points to Heeseung, “I of course know all about Jake’s.” She rolls her eyes as she spits the last sentence out, clearly, Jaeyun had said some bitter things about you, but you don’t mind. You deserved it. “So tell us about yours, Y/N. Jake, you should have seen the way she spoke about him! It was true love, I know it, maybe we can give you advice and get back together?”

Jaeyun coughs and looks up to the sky, wishing a bright light would come from between the clouds and either obliterate him like in that War of the Worlds movie.

“It was just,” You stop, uncomfortable at the idea that the subject of conversation is only a meter from you. Maybe this was your chance to really explain yourself in a controlled environment where emotions had to be under control, not like that night in the kitchen.

“I just was scared I think. I didn’t really handle the situation well. I was scared of long distance so I didn’t tell him I was going to college in Pyeongchang and just up and left.”

“I thought it was the right call. He had dreams, and honestly? He would have given all of it up for me. His dream school, his future, just to follow me and I didn’t want to live with the guilt of it.” Your head hangs low, and Heeseung’s hand grazes yours in an attempt to comfort you. “In the moment, I thought it was the right choice.”

“Damn,” Eunseo slows down her pace and looks at you, “You mean you just, left him behind?”

Eunseo stops completely, “Your parents…”

“Left them behind too. I didn’t want to risk him finding out where I was going. I didn’t tell anyone. Literally.” It was all clicking in Eunseo’s head and her jaw hung open.

“That’s cold, Y/N. I can’t imagine how he feels. Does he know where you are now?” Yeoreum asks the wrong questions every single time and you almost laugh at the irony.

You shrug, “I-”

“What do you think about it now?” The Australian accent jolts you to attention and interrupts what would have been a lie. Turning your head to him you wish he wasn’t looking at you with his eyes wide, like they’re desperate for something only you can give him.

Swallowing you nod slowly, “I think- I think I made the wrong choice.” You should have stopped the sentence there but you continue, “He’s everything to me still, I would do anything to go back and change it.”

In another world, Jaeyun is tearing himself away from Yeoreum, picking you up, and kissing you because you are the only one that matters. But this isn’t a romance movie, and you’re both deep in this tangled mess.

“I think you should reach out. Then you can have what me and Jake have.” A scoff is heard behind you. Turning, you view Heeseung with disgust on his face, his jaw is clenched and his eyes don’t even give Yeoreum the time of day. “What? You don’t think she could have that?”

“I think Y/N can have anything she wants,” He’s biting his tongue. Jaeyun’s gaze is looking pleadingly at his best man to shut the fuck up. He doesn’t, “It’s just Y/N is describing a love that sounds like once in a lifetime.”

It’s Yeoreum’s time to stop in her tracks. “And you think Jake and I don’t have that?”

“Yes.” If gagged had a visual representation next to its definition in the dictionary, it would be a still-frame picture of your face right now. “It’s not that you don’t love each other obviously,” damage control Heeseung was coming to fruition as he saw the shocked faces staring at him, “It’s just love like that isn’t easy to find.” He mumbles, cursing under his breath that he even opened his mouth.

“Well, for your information, Heeseung I brought Jake back to life after his high school relationship. He was nothing but a hollow body until he met me. If it wasn’t a ‘once in a lifetime love’” She air quotes the phrase, “then he would still be moping around over a shitty, second string ex that never deserved him.”

“Enough.” Jaeyun’s voice is stern, not like you’ve ever heard before, “Both of you just shut up. I love Yeoreum,” He faces Heeseung almost trying to convince him, “I wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise, “and you don’t get to shit on my ex.” His attention now on his fiance, “You don’t know her, she had her reasons, and yeah she hurt me, but she deserved all the love I gave her. So keep her out of your mouth. Got it?”

Maybe Yeoreum’s face right now should be next to gagged in the dictionary. Scratch that, just have this whole scenario play out on a projector. Jaeyun strides ahead, annoyed that anyone in their right mind would ever say anything like that about you. The silence is loud as you all continue your walk, Layla still none the wiser.

As you reach the top of the trail, Jaeyun’s emotions have settled but he doesn’t look at you or Yeoreum once, focused on the sun. Even though it’s shining bright, it’s a lot colder with the breeze from the height where he stood.

Layla is pulling at you to follow her and with her leash in hand you do. She paws at Jaeyun who looks down with a smile and pets her head. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you take a moment to register he’s talking to you. “She shouldn’t have said that.”

Your heart beats loudly because even after all this time he’s still looking out for you, still caring about your feelings even though he would have every right to hate you and curse you just like Yeoreum had.

“Jaeyun, It’s okay. She’s not wrong. It was shitty.” You suck your teeth and then you laugh, “You’re gonna be a terrifying dad,” He doesn’t say anything but his eyebrows scrunch together, “The way you put them both in their place, I’ve never seen you get angry.”

“Ah, that’s not true.” Now it was your turn to adorn a face of confusion, “Your birthday party, with Sunghoon?” Oh. Yeah. That. You shift from one foot to another, wrapping Layla’s lead around one of your hands. “I think that was the only time though.”

“I’m sorry about that.” He laughs loudly and shakes his head. “Baby, that was like 7 years ago. I forgive you. I forgave you that night.”

“Then go forgive Yeoreum.” The statement causes Jaeyun to lean back. “You should forgive her. It wasn’t nice but she didn’t mean it like that, she was protecting you because she loves you. If you can forgive me that easy then you can do the same for her.”

He sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “It’s easy to forgive you.”

“Do you?” Your voice is a whisper, your heart rapidly hitting against your chest, “Forgive me.”

Jaeyun nods his head slowly and turns to face you properly, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Taking his hand out of his pocket he grabs yours and squeezes it. He loves you and that is never going to change. It’s just that he loves Yeoreum now. You can try to find contentment in that.

_______

For the car ride back, Yeoreum storms into the backseat without giving any warning, clearly mad at her future husband. Heeseung guides Layla into the middle seat before situating himself on the seat beside her and waiting for you to crawl onto his lap. That however does not happen. Eunseo decides to sit on Heeseung’s lap instead and he is less than impressed. “Um, Eunseo?” She turns to Heeseung as if sitting on his lap is the most obvious decision in the world. “What? I’m not sitting next to him after he shouted at my sister.” Jaeyun opens the driver seat and throws himself down onto the leather, muttering a barely heard ‘I didn’t shout’. You look at Heeseung to help you out but he shrugs and mouths a sorrowful ‘Sorry.’ which is no comfort at all. “Y/N can sit in the front.” Yeoreum huffs and you follow her instruction mindlessly. You get into the passenger side and buckle your seatbelt for the awkward 2 hours that await.

“Let me put on some music, yeah?” Your voice is calm and quiet like you’re trying not to disrupt the tension. Heeseung is the only one to agree but you still grab the aux and plug your phone in. Unlike Yeoreum, you don’t ask what songs people want and settle for one of your playlists but just as you go to hit play, your phone says it’s at 5% and you mentally curse yourself for taking so many pictures. You have a choice; you can either play the songs right now and have your phone die in 2 minutes, or sit in silence. You sit for a while and the silence causes Jaeyun to turn to you.

“You okay?” he asks and you hum explaining about your phone, “Here.” Opening the glove box he hands you the CDs he hid from Yeoreum and she notices, crossing her arms and holding back from making a sarky comment.

Flicking through the CDs you see the mixtapes he made over the years until one stops you dead. ‘Y/N #1’. Your fingers flip through and all of them are named something similar all the way to ‘Y/N #38’. The last one has drawings of rings and keys all around it and you lightly trace your fingers over it, scared that if you touch it you’ll break it.

To confirm your theories, you pick it out and enter it into the CD player and your heart skips at least 5 beats as the first notes play from Love is All Around by Wetter. You choke on nothing as the memories of that night come flooding back to that night. He had taken all those cassette tapes and made them into CDs. Even after you abandoned him he still took the time to transfer every single mixtape. Your chest feels heavy and you feel like you’re going to pass out until Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh to calm you down. His touch is so familiar and comforting that instantly you feel relief wash over you, your hand intertwining with his. Just like how you used to be, you’re seeking his comfort.

Yeoreum is in too much of a sour mood to notice how his thumb rubs your skin, and how his whole body suddenly feels like it’s found the missing limb that’s been detached from him. But Heeseung doesn’t. He sees it all and he wants to cuss you both out for being so obvious. Still, instead, he’s engaging Eunseo in meaningless conversation, distracting her of any chance to see how Jaeyun has his fingers tracing hearts into your thigh.

As the song’s final chorus blares through the speakers he brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently. It’s a foolish move and Heeseung panics, looking between the sisters to see if any of them notice and somehow they don’t. He is going to have some words for you both when they all get back.

Alan Watt’s monologue at the end of the song doesn’t help the way you’re feeling, like for the first time in years you are exactly where you should be, with the love of your life. But his hand leaves yours as the journey goes on due to worrying that Yeoreum could turn her head and see it, and you’re pulled back to reality. He isn’t yours, and he’s getting married in two days.

____

Stepping out of the car you watch as everyone walks into the house, some sullen, and some oblivious about what happened. You wish you were the latter. Jaeyun walks with his hands in his pockets, head down as he follows a pouty Yeoreum up the stairs and into their bedroom. The house’s once light atmosphere is now heavy and by this point, everyone can feel it. Mr. Sim pulls Heeseung to the side and they share a whisper. Mrs & Mr. Son kidnap Mrs. Sim and Eunseo to the kitchen to help them prepare dinner.

You don’t follow your best friend, instead, you tread up the grand staircase, ready to shower and wash off the antics of today, craving the battering of hot water against your skin. Your foot is not but a second on the first floor when you hear shouting. It’s muffled and honestly, you shouldn’t be listening but you’re nosey and you one hundred percent know who it is.

“I just don’t understand why you shouted at me like that. And in front of our friends!” Yeoreum cries out. Don’t eavesdrop your mind is telling you, but your feet are gingerly walking to their door, it lays slightly ajar.

You don’t see lots but you can see Yeoreum’s back and sometimes when she moves, you can see Jaeyun. He looks lost, guilty, and bored all at once.

“Reumie, I did not shout at you. I told you to not speak about my ex. What is your fascination with her? You bring her up whenever you get the chance.”

Yeoreum scoffs and folds her arms, one foot pointed out to the right and her hip jutted out. “Me?! Fascination?! You have some nerve to ask me that.” Jaeyun looks at her confused, “Jake, you are so sensitive whenever I bring her up.”

“Because she’s my fucking ex, Yeoreum. It’s a sensitive fucking topic for a lot of people believe it or not. I told you talking about her makes me uncomfortable” He’s mad and he’s scared she’ll say something that will have him saying something regretful. Jaeyun’s hands are in front of him and his fingers are joined as he tries to calm down. “Look, let’s just forget it-”

“Get over it, Jake. She probably has. I am the one who got you out of your rut, I am the one who held you on those nights you’d cry over her wishing she would come back even though I, your girlfriend, was right there, and I sure as hell am the one you asked to marry you.”

Jaeyun stills at the memories of him laying on his dorm bed, willing you to come home to him, Yeoreum hugging him from behind, lulling him to calm down. He couldn’t even pretend to care about her presence when thoughts of you struck into his mind. She didn’t deserve the way he was back then and he’s surprised she stayed around.

Jaeyun opens his mouth but she cuts him off before he can even respond, her eyes are on him with a deadly stare, “Do you still love her?” It’s his turn to scoff but she doesn’t let up, “Tell me you don’t love her, and I’ll put it all behind me. I will forget this ever happened and drop it.” She knows the answer, but she wants him to lie to her.

“I- Yeoreum everyone still has feelings for their first love.”

“If she walked through that door right now, would you leave me for her?”

A gentle hand enveloped the top of your arm, causing you to gasp and turn around panicked. Mr. Sim’s gaze meets yours. He gently leads you from the door and into your room, “I think you’ve heard enough.” Although the statement can come across as rude from anyone else, his tone is comforting. He was taking you away from the possibility of the answer you knew he was going to say. Of course not. He wouldn’t leave her if his ex walked into his life again because you did walk back in and he is still very much engaged.

Jaeyun’s dad shuts the door behind him and sighs, “Y/N, Heeseung told me what happened.” You nod.

“It wasn’t a big argument, they’ll get over it in a minute.” Looking up you see him shaking his head and waltzing towards you, guiding you both to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He told me everything.” Oh. You nod again, this time heavy and with dread, as you think about the prospect of how this conversation will go.

The next words to leave his mouth are not in a million years what you would have guessed, “Thank you.” Shifting your body to face him completely you stretch your neck forward to make sure you heard him correctly, eyelids invisible as your eyebrows dart up.

Mr. Sim laughs and gently shakes your leg affectionately. “I know I didn’t give you the best welcome back reaction but you have to understand.” You daren’t say a word, trying to listen carefully, “When you left, you left behind my son but you took him with you. His livelihood, his character, his heart, he lost himself and I think it’s because you accidentally packed him up with your bags.”

“I’ll be candid, we lost all respect for you,” His face is sour and all you can do is nod because he had every right to feel this way, “But after these past few days, and Heeseung telling me why you left, I realise I have to thank you.”

The guilt your heart feels is astronomical, you knew it would hurt him, but something about the way his dad is putting it is like having someone poke multiple pins in your heart and dragging them down slowly, and painfully, torturing you as you awaited death.

“Why? You should hate me, you said yourself, I destroyed him.”

“Emotionally at the time, yes. But every step you took was always with his interest at the forefront. You knew he would reject Apollo if you told him you weren’t going with him.” A chuckle leaves his lips and his hand pats your leg again, “One thing about my boy? He is stupid when it comes to mind over heart. And you are so smart, baby girl.” Mr. Sim’s eyes are just as they used to be, full of adoration for you.

“If Jaeyun had left with you, he might have started to resent you and the relationship, wondering if he made the right choice, it would cause arguments, you’d drift and it would all have been for nothing. You saw that didn’t you?”

Yes. That is exactly how you saw it. When you made the decision to not tell him, long distance was your main reason, but as you stewed with it for years you truly know the guilt of keeping him from his dream school and ultimately sabotaging his future was the main reason. You wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. “Something like that.” Is all you mutter to him, “I knew how hard he worked for all of it, Busan, Apollo, his career, I didn’t want him to jeopardise it for some girl. And he always said long-distance scared him.” Tears are ricocheting down your face and you taste the salt as the liquid slips past your lips. For the first time, your feelings and actions are being validated.

“He also got Yeoreum.” You say smiling sadly. He grabs your chin and turns your face to his delicately.

“My son was always your number one priority, even when you didn’t realise it. Now do I wish there was a better way you could have gone about this? Categorically so.” He laughs and for the first time in the whole conversation so do you, nodding your head and your eyes looking up. “But you deserve a thank you because look what he has; honours in one of the most prestigious colleges in the country, a job he loves and is so dearly passionate about, I mean really, I cannot get him to shut up about it,”

“Do you love him?” You agree without hesitation and try to focus on anything but his eyes, too painful and far too similar to his son’s. “Then let me give you some advice,” Shouting can be heard, Jaeyun and Yeoreum’s voices getting louder but you’re too busy hanging on to every word Mr. Sim is speaking to tune in, “Do what you think is best, for you and him, either together or separate. You’ll make the right choice, Y/N. I know that now.”

#aj writes #jake x reader #jake sim #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jake smut #enha smut #lots of hidden things in this part that sets up nicely for the last 2 parts :)

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quoththemaiden · 1 month

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The final chapter of @mrghostrat's Big Name Feelings Good Omens AU is dropping tomorrow, so obviously there was no way I could resist writing another fanscene. (Previous scene 1, 2, 3) Inspired by the sheer domesticity of chapters 15 and 16, enjoy this end-of-series scene.

—

Crowley's key fumbled against the lock — still Aziraphale's lock, technically, but very firmly Crowley's key. "Dinner was good, though?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes a little at how much more attention his face was getting than the keyhole. Sherlock Holmes might have blamed the wine they shared at dinner for the scratches around the lock, but Aziraphale knew better. "It was delicious, of course. You should know; you were there."

"Nnyeah, well, it's your opinion I care about." As if that weren't obvious from Crowley having gotten them a table at one of the city's best restaurants on Valentine's Day and insisting on not even letting him see the bill.

As if Aziraphale was ever any good at hiding his appreciation of good food.

"Quite sure," Aziraphale replied with a gentle touch on Crowley's arm that swiftly turned into snagging the key from him to open the door himself. Crowley let out a huffy laugh as he followed him inside. "Tea?"

"Sure, if that goes with whatever we're doing next." Crowley had been trying to wheedle Aziraphale's planned gift out of him for the past two weeks, and Aziraphale had remained utterly firm in not sharing it with him. Crowley insisted that whatever Aziraphale planned would be alright with him so there was no reason for Aziraphale to be shy about it, and Aziraphale had said "I know, dearest," and somehow that's as far as Crowley's attempts at learning Aziraphale's plans ever got.

Aziraphale fussed around with the tea and put on some music — old-fashioned stuff on actual CDs, the sap — and Crowley was left to lean against the doorjamb watching him and coming to terms with being so terribly, completely besotted that their evening plans could be "absolutely nothing" and Crowley wouldn't love it a single speck less. Aziraphale had said that he'd always thought of Valentine's Day as just another day, and that he'd certainly never considered that he might be able to celebrate it publicly, so Crowley was already delighted at having coaxed him out to dinner. Crowley found himself very suddenly aware that if Aziraphale's supposed plans amounted to nothing at all, he honestly wouldn't mind. His fifteen-year-old self would eat him alive if he knew, and Crowley felt warm inside to know that that was his younger self's loss.

Crowley blinked out of his reverie in time to help Aziraphale carry the teacups into the living room, and was almost surprised when Aziraphale brought a bag in with him as he followed. "Whazzat?"

"Painting supplies, dear." Aziraphale set the bag down on the coffee table.

Another point in favor of another evening spent doing nothing unusual. Crowley relaxed back into the couch, wondering if his melting heart could leave stains on the fabric. "What're you gonna paint?"

"You!" Par for the course again, then. Aziraphale gave a happy wriggle. "I hope you aren't ticklish!"

Wait, what?

"Uh?" Crowley picked up one of the paints Aziraphale was setting out and found that the label said, quite clearly, "body safe." "Angel?"

Aziraphale looked at him with a smile that said he was still 100% confident in his plan despite Crowley's confusion. "I thought it might be a nice reminder of the con. Getting an airbrush and making stencils didn't seem sensible, really, but I know how to use a brush well enough."

Crowley let out a breathy laugh. "'Well enough' 's an understatement. Geez, now MY gift feels—"

"—completely, perfectly tailored to me," Aziraphale cut in. "I would have been actually cross if you'd insisted on getting me another sword." Crowley laughed again, and it warmed Aziraphale's heart that he'd seemed to do nothing but laugh all night. Aziraphale patted Crowley's hand before picking up his tea, taking an appreciative sip and willing it to calm the excited fluttering in his chest. "What do you think? Another serpent on your cheek? I was thinking a tree would look rather lovely spread across your spine and shoulder blades..."

Crowley shivered a little at that, easily able to picture Aziraphale straddling his hips as he lay on the bed, Aziraphale's left palm spread flat on his back to keep himself steady with the rise and falls of Crowley's breath, his paintbrush tenderly tracing a line along his spine...

"Snake first," he agreed quickly. "And then..." He looked down on Aziraphale's arms and swallowed. "Think you could paint on your own arm? I could help hold things steady for you."

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed, and Crowley's heart clenched in the best of ways. He had no idea how Aziraphale always managed to say that like he was falling in love all over again, time and time again, but he did.

No, that wasn't quite right. Crowley probably did know. He suspected it came from the same place as the way he'd looked at Aziraphale as he helped him out of the car today. Aziraphale had taken his arm without hesitation and looked up at him with a warmer smile than any mortal had ever earned, and Crowley had been certain he was wearing his own heart on his sleeve, his vest, and every other garment he owned.

He adored him, and somehow, ineffably, it was the smallest moments that made it stand out the most.

"...right," Aziraphale managed to say around the happy tightness in his throat. "Some art for the both of us, then."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #bnf au #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #absolutely amazing fic bilvy #you should be proud!!

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itsgodepi · 29 days

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 9

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

You recognize his laugh now. Not the one recorded by the nosy photographers or the overstepping interviewers, but the real one. The way he leans his head to the side and his eyes turn into beautiful crescent moons. Those low chuckles as well, so carefree and sweet, resounding in your head and bringing you back to the hundreds of videos saved in your camera roll, the ones you have been watching for nights on end since you found that phone.

It is difficult to decipher if the goosebumps raising in your skin come from the happiness the mere sound induces inside you, or the fear of realizing how deep you have been dragged into this nightmare.

After landing in Belgium, Daniel’s first instinct had been to send you a message, an invite out for dinner which he admitted was long overdue. Two months had already gone by since you fainted in Austria —or better said, the day you woke up surrounded by a whole Formula 1 team in an unknow place—, two months since he fought with Nick in the middle of the track and promised to ‘talk later’. Two months.

Safe to say you were surprised enough to ignore the hundreds of messages higher on the chat. It’s better to take in this kind of news one by one.

“My friend said the steak tartare was amazing, you should have a look at it” Daniel offers when you lower your eyes to the menu, skimming over the dishes as if that could help you ignore the tingling on your stomach

Pursing your lips, you finally focus your gaze on the words written before you. “I don’t know if…” you begin to show your doubts about the raw dish, trying to locate it on the menu among the rest of unrecognizable food names.

Daniel can see the exact second you find it.

“Don’t you dare look at the price,” the driver threatens when your eyes widen at the quantity, eyebrows furrowed as you wonder if the meat is wrapped in gold or something “You’re not paying again, I’m telling you!”

“What do you mean again?” you ask through a chuckle, scanning the rest of the menu for a more reasonable option. After all, it is always Daniel who passes you gummies and other unhealthy treats under Nick’s nose when you are on the track, and not the other way around. It would have been impossible anyway, it’s only recently that you have acquired some form of payment.

Daniel calls for the waiter after a shake of his head, a smirk falling of his lips “Yeah, sure, I’ll let you play dumb now... gave them my card already, so no use in sneaking to the bathroom and paying behind my back”

To be fair, although you doubt you could have invited Daniel to more than a sip of coffee in the short time you’ve know him —you absolutely do not have the kind of money needed to invite a Formula One driver out, that’s become obvious, those kinds of antics do ring a bell or two.

After all, you may have picked them up from the best at that type of tricks: your father.

On your time away from home, you have found yourself holding onto the little pieces of your family which have so easily become a part of your personality over the years. Your father’s silent gestures of love, your mother’s caring nature, and honestly, being unable to talk to them had taken a toll on you. Probably, that is why you had melt into a poodle of tears when you heard your dad’s voice on the phone.

“¿A ti te parece normal estar dos meses sin llamar a tus padres? (Does it seem normal to you to go two months without calling your parents?) "

Even hearing his scoldings felt like the most precious moment of your life.

Charles had come crashing into the room as soon as he heard your cries, kneeling beside you on the floor thinking you might have hurt yourself with how fast you had run away to your room. His concerned look rapidly turning into one of confusion when you firmly held his hand and whispered between sobs “It’s my dad!”

The discovery of this new device had not only opened a channel of communication with your family, which had both been a blessing and a curse, but also brough an infinity of unanswered questions. Although the first few minutes of your conversation had been centered around your mother’s question about your wellbeing and if you had been eating well, it had not taken long until that precious moment was broken. After checking that you had been doing alright and apologizing for not talking to them, your father could not hold it any longer and started gushing about the amazing few races you had had before the break.

A reality check so sudden that it takes your breath away.

Their happiness and eagerness to congratulate you on the highest place of your career, managed to sober you up completely. You heart sinking with every compliment they threw at you, their desire to see you climb up in the sport, to see you win one day. “It will come” your mother says, as if any of this was real. As if they were real.

When you finally found your voice again, you had cut the conversation short with promises to call them soon —even if the mere thought of it made you nauseous.

This encounter only renewed your desire to break free from what had become you own personal prison, and that device was a new key for your escape. While the phone you had been carrying since the start of this journey only had a couple numbers from the team members saved on it, this one was filled to the brim with messages, photos,... a whole life encased in such a small object. Your life?

And somehow a main character in a large part of them was the man in front of you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” Daniel queries with a half-smile, having clearly caught the way your eyes followed the delicious looking cake as the waiter placed it on the table

The colors rise to your cheeks in shyness, looking to the side while you jokingly sigh “Daniel, I won’t fit in the car if I keep eating...”

“You’ll drive mine then” he quickly resolves, taking a huge piece of the treat and offering the spoon to you. Honestly, you had swapped the list of amazingly sounding desserts for a simple tea because you felt too full to even think of eating anything else, but a spoonful of cake can’t hurt, right? “Have to wear the McLaren suit though”

Although you do it unconsciously, the look you give Daniel over the mouthful of cake, tells him everything he needs to know regarding your opinion on the bright orange race suit. The driver lets out a loud laugh, putting on his disbelieving facade as if that hadn’t been his intention in the first place.

“So nice hearing you criticize my team’s color, really, I don’t know why we stopped having lunch together. Yeah, not a clue...” Daniel scoffs, digging into his plate to drown his fabricated sorrows. So dramatic.

“I didn’t even talk!” you quip back to his amusement, just now having managed to get through the enormous bite of cake. Daniel only response is a disapproving shake of his head, and you let him have this one as you stir your tea. You are more interested in the second part of his grumbles “Why did we stop though?”

“Don’t know... I guess with the whole start of the season, new team and everything” Daniel relays with a frown, gesturing to the air as if to explain that life had gotten in between what seemed to be a tradition the two of you had. “And also, that fucking diet...” the driver snickers with a roll of his eyes, having thrown that last jab as joke to lighten up the mood after such serious turn of the conversation.

However, a soon as your eyes meet, he knows it’s been a misstep —even if it is just a coincidence that what he thinks is your how dare you say that? look is more of a what diet are you talking about? Look.

“Sorry, ‘shouldn't have said that” Daniel apologizes straight away, leaning back into his seat with a sigh and the last piece of the cake. The time it takes him to munch on the treat is enough for him to debate whether or not he should make his opinion on such an important cmatter. Finally, he opts for a more conservative approach “It’s just... you already know what I think about it. Nick too”

The mention of your Formula One trainer’s name makes all the alarms go off in your head, more so when the last time you saw them together, they were having a pretty heated conversation in the middle of a Grand Prix “Is that why you fought with Nick?”

You try to appear outwardly calm about the situation, swirling what’s left of your tea as if your hands weren’t trembling in anticipation. This is it, at last, some real information. Not some meaningless clues which do nothing but mess with your poorly constructed theories.

Your grandmother’s necklace burns against your chest, the feeling grounding you against all the thoughts brimming on your head. After all, the piece of jewelry is still the only fragment of an ever-distant reality, one you have kept safe and close to your heart ever since you found. You rest your hand over the pendant, sensing the heat even through the fabric of your blouse, as you wait for the response.

He brushes a hand over his curls, looking everywhere but at you. “Yeah, kind of... I mean,” he accepts, clicking his tongue and taking in a big breath, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it plain and clear. Daniel takes a second to reorganize his thoughts, straightening up in his chair and leaning his arms over the table in deep thought. However, when you think he’s managed to make up his mind and talk, the only words that come out his lips are “Look, we shouldn't talk about this now”

A frown instantly forms on your expression at the premise, jaw set as you prepare yourself to most likely yell at Daniel everything that’s been on your mind thorough your time trapped here —whatever here means. You were finally going to clear one of the millions of unknowns surrounding this dream or whatever this is, and the man has the audacity to want to leave this incredibly important conversation for later. Oh, hell no.

“No, listen” Daniel tries to settle your worries, having perfectly recognized the signs of what was about to come for him, from the slight closing of you hand over the table to the uncredulous grin lightly lifting the side of your lips “We’ll talk in the ride back to the track. C’mon, I’ll drive you”

The soft sound of the radio fills the silence on the way out of the parking, a ballad which does absolutely not fit the speed at what your mind is running. Daniel can probably feel the weight of your stare, trying to let him have some space since it seems to be a sensitive topic for him, but so eager to learn what transpired between the two of them.

The driver decides to preface his explanation with a “Don't get mad at me, okay?”, a strained smile pulling at his lips. For starters, that sentence does sound familiar. “I know I should stay out of it, and I think... well, no, I know! I know you’ve been really stressed out lately, that everything’s different now and all of that. I mean, they won't shut up about the fucking ‘second year in F1’ or whatever”

Daniel tries to check your reaction out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts, although disorganized, always careful of your feelings. Yet, you can only regard him with a confused look.

“What I’m trying to say is... I think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard” the driver lets out, the words flowing out of him like they have been weighting him for too long. His urge to explain his intentions straight away, showing how much of a push back he was expecting from your part "Again, I’m not trying to start an argument, I’m just worried about you! I’ve seen you training, seen that diet... this is not good for you”

You’ve kept your eyes in the road in front thorough the conversation, taking in how concerned he has been about you. You had never seen this side of Daniel, he has always seen friendly and eager to help whenever you needed, but nothing had ever seen this deep. Still, you don’t understand what any of this has to do with his fight with Nick.

“I understand that...” you acknowledge his worries, making a mental note to check everything he said later. In the time you had spent following this professional motorsport driver schedule, none of it had seemed as harsh to you as he had mentioned. Maybe something changed? Why though? “So, Nick and you talked about that? Is that it?”

“Well, yes, Nick and I kind of had a... disagreement, yeah, we can call it that. About this new training plan you had going on. We had already talked about it like, back in Canada, and obviously nothing came out of it. But after Austria...” Daniel lets a second go while he enters the road, a harder grip on the steering wheel than needed. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked about it at all, I don’t know if you and Nick did?”

You almost want to laugh at the supposition, your trainer had shut down any attempts of talking about it the day after the incident, so you had eventually given up “No, nothing”

“I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about it but... We got really scared that day. I went to celebrate your qualy and, suddenly, you started panicking and freaking out! I didn’t know what to do, and then you fell unconscious. Do you remember any of it?” the driver wonders, his voice showcasing the whirlwind of emotions he went through despite the fact that he might be giving you a diluted version of what went down. You can only nod at him, the memories fresh on your mind “When they took you to the hospital, I thought, they for sure won’t let her race tomorrow, right? And then I see you on the track, all dressed up again, I couldn’t believe it...”

“Didn’t Nick say he sent you a text?” you try to fill in, fingers fiddling with your own phone. Two months might have passed, but the images of that day keep replaying in your mind every single night.

Daniel clicks his tongue in disbelief, eyes still focused on the road “Yes, he sent me two fucking lines saying the doctor discharged you, that you were fine and that’s literally it. You can take my phone and see it for yourself! I kept blowing up his phone but that’s the only thing he would say: exhaustion, she’s alright”

That would explain the way Daniel approached you in Austria, how furious he had been with Nick after the secrecy with which the incident had been treated. The first thing he asked you that day was if you were alright, after the pre-race activities had finished and as away from the public as he could knowing you were in the middle of a Grand Prix. That is why he pounced at Nick when he mentioned the exhaustion diagnosis, fed up with the discourse. The distrust he had in your trainer’s statement clear in his words.

Yet another thread to be pulled.

Author's note: Hey, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's been a while! My masters is clearly kicking my ass and I didn't have a single second to write, but here it is. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

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☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You're getting this a day early this week. For reasons. Mentions and descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of self-harm/attempted suicide. Heavy angst - I promise, it will pep up soon! 😅

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Previous Chapter

The sun is on the other side of the sky when you eventually arrive at outpost three.

The pink edges of an early dusk will soon make their way in, dip-dyeing the clouds rolling in puffy plumes above.

Summer evenings have always been beautiful, even before the world turned to shit.

You enjoy the colours; the golds fading into pinks, and then purples as the night would settle in. A pastel kaleidiscope, and you're thankful the sky has remained free of the horrors that taint the ground below it.

It's the only reprieve you have left these days, when you take a moment to gaze up at the stars, enthralled by the infinite beauty of space.

A renegade memory cuts in; Joel's body warming you on the air mattress he'd dragged out into the garden so you could both watch the meteor shower you'd been haranguing him about for weeks.

I don't want to miss it! You'd said, endlessly. There were only a few glimpses of the white, glittery streaks across the sky that night. Mostly because you and Joel were too busy looking at one another instead and talking excitely about the future. Your future, together.

Even though you never actually had one.

You smile with a deep sigh, throwing your head up to the sky as you trot on and Joel catches your wistful eyes.

"What's that look for? " He queries, curiously.

You shake your head smiling. "Nothing."

The day feels like it's dragged on deliberately to torment you, and tiredness weighs heavy on your back and under your eyes.

You follow Joel on his stud up the grassy knolls towards a small looking shack, tucked and nestled out the way that's not so obvious it's there, but gives a good view down into the valley which you’ve spent the last couple of hours riding up languidly.

Once off your horse, you guide the mare into a side stable hidden by the trees and are surprised to find ample hay bales stacked in there.

Joel shuts the paddock fence, “grab that bucket there,” he instructs and you do, following him as he takes the heavy knapsacks from off your horse. You offer to take them, but he shakes his head as he loads himself up and it makes you smile that he's never lost his gentlemanly chilvary.

Even if he's lost everything else.

Joel reaches behind a piece of wood and pulls out a key, unlocking the door and you instantly marvel at the inside.

“This is not what I expected from an outpost,” you say as you look about the place in bewilderment.

There’s a small, ashy stove in the corner with a basket of chopped logs next to it. A singular camper’s cot is along the far wall, with sheets folded on top of it and a threadbare pillow.

A couple of beaten wicker chairs face a large window; most of it is boarded up, save for a small square cut out where the light pools in softly and illuminates the floor by your feet. Dust motes dance in the white beams and you wander over to the view of the valley that’s squashed inside the tiny frame like a grainy Polaroid.

You traipse over to the side room, which is an alcove cut into the wood, to find a hose pipe attached to a slow rusting tap. A crude shower with a curtain hanging up. There's a couple of rough feeling towels on a hook, and a large bowl on the floor, presumably the toilet.

"S'no hot water." He says with a thin line for a mouth.

You turn to Joel shrugging, surprised. “Are all your outposts this fancy?” You quip with a wry grin.

You were expecting a hole in the dirt to squat in for the next five days and not much else. This is a palace in comparison.

A rickety shelving unit houses a few dogeared books, a few battered boxes that you see are old board games on closer inspection. There’s also an array of metal tins, some in various states of peeling and rusting.

“We work in rotations when on the lookout. The guys who were here last would’ve left yesterday, maybe the day before. Gotta leave the place smart n’ tidy for the next shift. Those are the rules.”

“Noted,” you say as Joel takes the metal bucket from you. He's careful not to touch you, you notice. “You’ve been on the lookout before?” Your fingers run over the sniper stand set up by the window.

The floorboards beneath you creak and jostle as you move, and you look down to see one board is loose as you step on it with your boot. You can hear running water from the tap in the alcove as the bucket starts to fill.

“A few times. I mostly get picked for scoutin’ runs.” Joel explains, his head peering out from the alcove at you. “S’what I used to do in the QZ, so guess m’good for it.”

"Are you good at finding things?"

He doesn't answer that.

You bend down and pull the floorboard up and find boxes of bullets and shotgun cartridges in there and baulk. There’s a small radio walkie-talkie too.

“Get ‘em all out,” Joel instructs you, resting the full bucket by the door. “We might be needin’ ‘em. Best have ‘em ready.”

You do and Joel attaches his rifle on the stand, peering through the periscope and places the boxes, you hand up to him, on the small table in between the wicker chairs.

“We switch the radio on once, just before midday, each day. If nothin’ comes through by quarter-past, then all is well.” Joel explains.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder to three small clocks on a wonky wooden shelf that tick quietly out of sync. They all read at the same time, differing by a minute or two. A stack of batteries are beside them. “In case one stops,” Joel remarks as he sees you inspecting.

“Industrious.” You nod understanding, and place the radio on the table next to the bullets. “Are all the outposts equipped like this?”

“Pretty much. Each time ya have a shift, ya bring supplies with ya from the commune to top up.”

You nod again as he points at the knapsacks realising that you’ll have less to go back with.

“You want me to take the first watch?” You offer.

Joel shakes his head. “No. I will. But we’ll eat first. Once it’s dark, we can’t use any light. Don’t want no-one or no infected knowin’ we’re here, okay? We keep quiet, keep our heads down. We just wait n’ watch.”

“Yes, sir.” You remark with a salute and Joel grits his teeth.

“You wanna get the stove goin’?” He frowns.

“You’re not gonna cook for me?” You remark with your tongue in your teeth, and he rolls his eyes. “I remember you being a great cook.”

“I ‘member you bein' full of shit.” Joel remarks as he steps over and rifles through the knapsacks, pulling out several cans and handing them to you.

You chuckle, recalling the time when Joel burnt the only dinner he’d ever attempted to cook for you on Valentine’s Day once. Instead, he’d ordered in pizza and then fucked you on his parent’s sofa whilst they were out on a romantic date night of their own.

It was a close call, barely getting your damp panties back on before they came home to two red faces with messy hair trying to look innocent. It was the same night he told you he loved you.

The thought warms your belly momentarily before the snakes strike with their venom again.

You look down at the cans, some dented, some without labels, one is blown and you tell Joel you can't eat it and he nods. You get to preparing some food. It’s a lucky dip as to what it’ll be, but you remain optimistic.

Joel pulls out a tupperware box with some baked bread in it and you groan in surprise.

“Courtesy of Jake.” He says with a little pride blooming in his cheeks.

“Jake?”

“He runs The Tispy Bison. He sees me right.” He tries not to smirk smugly.

“Is that because you’re his dealer or something?” You titter.

Joel baulks. “I might do him some favours when I’m on a run.”

“Mmhm. Is this focaccia?” You gasp, taking the tupperware box, opening it and inhaling the freshly baked scent of flour, rosemary and oils.

“Dunno, s’different each time.”

“Well. Jake might just be my new favourite person.” You say, grinning as the scent of the bread makes your mouth salivate.

“Hm. Next time you can spend five days gettin’ cosy with Jake then.” Joel gruffs, the frown returning, but his mirth still remains.

You watch Joel take the bucket and open the shack door. “Gonna give the horses a drink.”

He closes the door, but not before you catch his dark, chocolate eyes glancing back at you.

Out in the stable, Joel strokes down the mare gently whilst she drinks from the bucket hanging on a tough metal peg.

He loses himself in the feel of her coat for a while, focusing in on that silky smoothness over his rough fingertips and he runs them up and down.

The stallion eats from the corner, chewing as he tugs hay from the bale with big, glassy black eyes.

Joel’s mind wanders from the stable to inside the shack where you are. If he listens real carefully, and presses himself up against the far wall closest to the shack, he could probably hear you clanking about with the pans.

He could probably hear you mutter obscenities at the stove as you struggle to get the wood to catch light. He’d probably rest his large palm against the coarse wood, reaching out as though he was touching you.

God, he wants to touch you so badly. Convince himself that you're real.

He wonders if you would feel it; sense him here, listening to the music of you as it pollutes his head and stuffs up his senses, only but a mere few steps away.

So close, yet so fucking far from his reach.

Joel takes his hand off the wood and steps back; shaking his head and muttering curses of his own to himself for being so damn foolish.

He steps back to the mare who snuffles at him and he gets back to stroking her down. Her large head knocks against his arm and Joel wonders for a moment if it’s her way of telling him to grow a pair and get back in there.

Get back to you.

He calms her with a soothing shush and strokes over her ears, winding the velvet of them gently through his thick fingers as she snuffles again.

“You’re just as sweet as May, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He coos to her and the horse puts her mouth back in the bucket leaving Joel to contemplate and to just think some more.

Thinking has always been his worst enemy, deducing that he probably does it far too much for his own good. Often, the thinking is what talks him out of things, calms the recklessness that used to run in his blood during his wily youth.

Thinking is what stops him from unleashing the ire on a daily basis now. And he’s not sure anymore if that’s a good or bad thing.

He scratches at his temple and his fingers run the familiar pattern of the scar there. It stops all thinking for a moment as his tips notch over the puckered skin.

Just leaves him that stabbing feeling that starts at the bottom of his heart until it eventually takes over his beating muscle and renders him frozen, incapacitated for a few short moments as he remembers raising the gun to his temple in his darkest moment.

Joel wonders why it is that he never died; why it is that he flinched when he pulled the trigger. He should have died a long time ago, should be with Sarah now holding her close and smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair that he misses more than anything in this fucking cruel world.

Joel deduces that thinking probably talked him out of that too. That, somewhere, in the back of his foggy brain that could often chatter insidiously at him for hours - so much so that he had to resort to numbing out the noise with booze and pills just to get some simple shut eye sometimes - a small voice talked him down off that ledge.

But he wonders why it has, every day since. What was the point if not to taunt him with his losses?

He’d said to Ellie that he was glad he hadn’t. And he’d meant it. But Ellie was gone, her time between visits getting longer and he knows it’s because he tried to do right by her, even if it backfired in his face later when she discovered his dishonesty.

That voice that told him to fight for her as he gunned everyone down in that hospital selfishly. Point, shoot. Point, shoot.

The thinking had quelled then, a calm just leaving him to go stoically postal as he pointed and shot at targets; a quiet white noise filling his ears until Ellie was back in his arms and he could hear again.

And now she’s not.

Joel Miller is a loser; he's continually losing the people that matter the most to him. That has to be it, he thinks.

He looks down at his hands; two large paws that are weathered and worn, calloused and rough. Index fingers with split skin and a liver spot here or there that never used to be. Prominent veins that ridge and thumbs that always annoy him with their stubbiness, getting in the way of practicality at times.

Working hands that were once strong and built things, but now tremble and shake uncontrollably at times. Strong hands that fail to be able to hold onto anyone that he cares for anymore. He’d let go of Sarah, he’d let go of Tess. He’d let go of Ellie.

And he had let go of you.

Joel squeezes his fists shut, breathing in through a choke that rasps out at the back of his throat. That shit makes his chest burn and he can’t breathe anymore. It takes his breath from him as he tries to suck in oxygen that he can’t quite catch in the air.

He can feel his blood beginning to boil rapidly with the heat rising within him. Clarity is being lost to him and emotion - savage, raw emotion - is beginning to take hold as it creeps up his spine.

Please, stop.

He puffs in deeply a few times, sinking to his knees and breathing his way through it. Refusing to relent, refusing to let it take him.

But it always does. It’s stronger than him.

He feels it then, as it mutates from anger into sheer blinding panic crippling him in seconds; that all too familiar freezing grip tightening around his ventricles and muscles as he tries to regain his composure that’s stripped from him. He’s reduced to naked, quivering flesh in a matter of seconds.

He tries to remember to breathe as it ices his teeth shut. But all rational thought is swallowed up like it always is. All he can hear is his blood pumping -thump-thump-thump-thump- and then that tiny little voice -thump-thump-thump-thump- that slithers out from the dark again.

You’re dying, the voice says. This is what death feels like, and you’re going to die alone, Joel.

-Thump-thump-thump-thump-

He grabs at his chest, closing his eyes; hearing nothing but steam rolling through his ears. And for a few moments, he relives his personal Hell over and over.

He’s dizzy, falling forward on all fours as he rides it out; the horses are the only witnesses to his sinking, to his drowning right before them. They can’t save him, no-one can.

The mare brays, calling out to him to come back, but it's swallowed up in the panic as he sinks and flows away.

Once he does come back, when the ice eventually melts and his heart relaxes, he realises he’s still in it. Trapped in a living Hell that relents on and on.

He didn’t die, no - he’s still fucking here.

Joel breathes tightly, feeling the raw scrape in the back of his throat as he sits back on his ankles.

His hands run through his hair that feels matted with sweat, dripping damp around the back of his collar, and he's past the stage where he wants to yank it all out in agony.

It takes him two attempts to stand, cursing at his fucking knee that still pulls tight just to spite him, and once he's upright, he pats the mare on the side assuringly. Her silk anchors him back to reality as he convinces himself that he’s here.

As he turns, Joel sees your shadow moving forward in the doorway; your voice echoing in, and he stops dead, wide eyed.

“...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food anyway these days…” you say, and you eye him carefully noting how paler he looks. “You alright?”

Joel stares at you, wondering if you just witnessed him falling apart, wonders what you’d make of it and searching your eyes frantically for any pity.

He can take you hating him - he wonders if you do, and wouldn't hold it against you, because he hates himself - but he can’t take your pity. That would be the final death of him.

“M’fine.” Joel replies through a swallowed wheeze, and passes you, heading back into the shack.

Nine Years Ago...

It feels soft and it’s a sensation that pulls your attention for a moment. Diverts you out and away from the suffocating void.

It shouldn’t feel like that, surely? Not after all this time. Coarse, hardened, maybe. But not soft.

You watch as he winds the long, soft layers of the clean bandage around your wrist. It hurts less now, the sting. But you’ve been numb for a while.

He tucks it in place, his hands applying light pressure around it as he fires off gentle commands around you. Your mouth is lead, your head is empty. A couple of pairs of eyes hover behind him, their silence deafening.

He instructs them to fetch some more water and he instructs you to drink it, but you don’t. Or at least you can't remember if you do. You look down at your wrist. It feels so soft.

He doesn’t question you. He doesn't look at you to make you feel even more shitty than you already do. He doesn’t feel sorry for you.

He’s just... patient.

He stays with you, night and day. Doesn’t leave your side, which is equal parts infuriating as well as terrifyingly comforting. You loathe him, with every fibre of your being for what he did. For what he does.

For how he keeps you alive and fighting.

He assists you, when you need it most. When you need it intimately, without disgust, without hesitation. Taking a shit is difficult with only one working hand.

You fucked up, cut too deep.

Your wrist aches from the damage to the tendons. Years later you’ll still feel that ache, when it gets cold. When you overexert yourself. A constant reminder of your epic failure. A single finger blessed permanently numb and tingly forever. You envy it.

It'll get better. Give it time, he says. Give it patience. But you have none of those things anymore. Not even pain.

It's all numbed out, washed away.

He holds you whilst you cry, when you try to push him away, when you let out all of that anger, all of that fury onto him in short bursts.

He takes it. He absorbs it. He’ll bruise under his eye, but he takes it from you.

Until you have nothing more to give.

And then you sleep. For days. You wake up in his arms, it’s hot. Stifling. You haven’t showered, maybe in weeks. But he still holds you close, unperturbed by your foul smells.

You’re not even sure when the last time it was that you ate. You’re not even sure where you are anymore. Who you are anymore.

There's more of you, new faces you haven't met yet. Names you can't remember. He tells you them, introduces you as something you're not. You think you smile, agree with him. Reassure them like he does that they're safe now. That you'll protect them.

Days turn into weeks at an incomprehensible blur. Weeks into months, and it’s not until you’re both out with a small group hunting, laying snares for wild rabbits, that you finally talk about it.

“I didn't want to be here, just for this.” You murmur. Anything but this.

Kelper stops and looks at you. “Too late. This is all we have now.”

You walk on, your gun lowered as you trample over dead branches, leaves. Everything is dead now. It's been a harsh winter. Freezing. And you're just so fucking tired of not feeling any of it.

“I can't sanction your inherent stupidity. I can empathise with it.” He says, following behind. “But you don’t get to do that. Not on my watch.”

“You had no right.” You scoff. "It was my choice, not yours."

“Fuck you.”

You stop and turn to him. His eyes are focused, a frown crushes them. Kelper's face is unrecognisable. You've not met this Kelper before.

“Fuck you.” he says again, a growl to his voice. “Don’t be so selfish.”

You shake your head.

“You don’t get to check out. Not when…” He wipes at his face with his palm quickly. “You owe it to yourself to fight. To keep fucking going.”

“There’s nothing left to keep going for. Your delusion is misplaced, Kelper. It always has been.” You murmur.

He steps closer to you. His voice is a soft, muted sigh, expressing a gentle annoyance now for this new found situation. He never gets fully angry and you wonder what it would take to see him implode like a sun. His devastation would be glorious.

“You know that’s not true. That’s the fear talking.” Kelper says and shakes his head. “We endure and we fucking survive. For each other. This world isn’t done with us. It’s chaotic. It fucking hurts, I know it does. It's rotten, right down to the core. But it has more to offer. It's has to..." He sighs.

His eyes water, but he blinks it away quickly. "They need you."

"No they don't." You say.

"I need you, Goose. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you.” Kelper says.

You gulp. Then your lips crash into his. He kisses you back, if but for a weak, selfish moment as a sob escapes you and into his mouth.

It's been so long since you've felt anything warm. And his lips are warm, his tongue. And like a moth to a flame, you want him to burn you alive. Immolate your entire being to ash and dust.

Kelper pushes you back gently as you gasp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, clutching back onto him. Feeling foolish, feeling relieved that you finally feel something again, even if it is embarrassment.

He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that.”

Kelper sighs, pulling you into his chest. He wears a ring around his neck. The most delicate, fragile thing about him, with a tiny, blue sapphire embedded into the metal. A symbol of his own fragility and losses.

It pushes against your clavicle and leaves an indent in your skin, long after he pulls away.

You smile, and then a snuffle of laughter escapes your mouth. He laughs too.

“I’m never leaving you. And you’re not ever leaving me, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, hollowing you out from the inside. "I fucking love you, you got that?" He jabs his finger gently onto the side of your skull.

You know its futile to fight it anymore. To resist. His belief is a parasite worming its way in to your gullet and feeding, getting fatter. He's right, this world isn't done. It can't be. Every day that you're alive is a day to make it better. A day to find a purpose, to find hope.

You know these words, the mantras, as you try to pick through and unjumble them again. To see the clarity in them that you know is there. You felt it once before, you can again, right?

To endure and survive, long after this world has changed.

He saved you. Three years later you'd return the favour. And you'd have this conversation again. Only then, you'll believe the conviction behind these words, these ideals, as you tell him, yell at him, what he's just told you, as you keep his lifeforce inside of his skin to fight another day with you.

They need you! I need you, Maverick!

This is how you'll save him. This is how he saves you. This is why you endure and survive.

You nod at Kelper and you both clutch on to one another. “Okay." You breathe.

You run your finger up and down the raised, smooth track of the scar; your sleeve rolled up as you stop stirring the pot of the savoury, and somewhat overbearingly salty, smelling canned meat that’s simmering slowly on the stove.

The skin feels different, it’s healed over, physically. Thicker. Thicker skin. Impenetrable.

It pulls you out of your reverie back to the present day. He’ll be alright. You chant internally. He’ll be fine. It’s five days, get a grip.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of one of the horses braying gently outside, and you stir the contents again, pulling down your sleeve.

You serve up the bread on some chipped plates, breaking some off the loaf between you. You inhale the scents and it takes you back to another life; a life that was simplistic in its mundane joy.

A time when a broken heart was the only thing to fear in the dark.

You realise Joel has been gone for a little while as the stew bubbles sticky in the pan.

“Joel?” You call out gently.

You wander out towards the stable when you get no response, and he hasn’t returned.

You call out to him again en route. “...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food these days…” you say, with a slight mirth clacking around your teeth.

The scents of the stew can be smelt in your hair, your clothes. That and the firewood. Your stomach rumbles, but you’re not sure if it’s from hunger or the fact that it’s been tossed around on an emotional rollercoaster all day.

You stop as you round into the stable and see Joel staring at you, a little wide-eyed and sweaty in his hairline.

“You alright?” You query, eyeing him carefully.

He stares back at you with a peculiar look; some furtive panic swelling around his eyeballs. He seems heavier somehow, like he’s being crushed.

He snaps out of it; the frown returning in its rightful place and then his eyes drop away from yours. He wipes his hands down on the back of his jeans listlessly and steps forward, past you, leaving a cold prickle blooming on your skin.

“M’fine.” Joel replies.

To be continued...

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gyuvxx · 2 months

Text

Bro Code. Kim Gyuvin.

Chapter 30) Busted!!!

Written chapter. wc~2279

warnings: drinking, references to weed (no one smoked it it’s just in the background), suggestive, heavy make out session, NO SMUT I REPEAT NO SMUT mostly sfw. TLDR at the end.

Yn showed up to the party with her friends, wearing the dress she was hesitant to put on and some heels that by all means should be hurting her feet. Her hair was curled around her shoulders, draping softly against her skin.

She walked in, linking arms with hanni, chatting with Anton before taking in the scene of the party. There were people all around passing bottles of beer, the smell of weed drifting through the crowd. They walked in further, finding rei and sohee and bringing them into their group.

They expanded group found a spot to talk, catching up on whatever the most recent gossip was. Jaeyun had his first drink, celebrating as he drank. yn felt an arm drape over her shoulders. She looked up to see gunwook grinning at her.

“Gunwook!” She smiled brightly. “What are you doing over here?”

“We saw you so I thought I should come grab you,” he smiled. “Do you guys mind if we steal miss yn for a little?”

“Go ahead,” Anton winks at yn who rolls her eyes, a playful smile across her lips.

Gunwook walks yn over to the crowd of his friends, who are gathered around each other. Some of them smelled like beer, but it was expected of them all. When her eyes met gyuvin’s, she smiled a bit, walking over to him.

He was wearing some loose fitted pants that rested low on his hips, a white tank top and black zip up. His hair was messy, holding a can of beer. He smiled at her, taking in the dress she wore and how pretty her makeup was done.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder with a smile.

“Hey,” she looked up at him. “I thought we agreed to not be so touchy in public?” She poked his chest, trying to shake off his arm, though she didn’t really want to.

“Hanbin’s not here yet, let me enjoy you,” he sighed, kissing the top of her head.

“How many of those have you had?” Yn asked cautiously.

“This is my first one,” Gyuvin assured her. “I don’t get drunk that much, especially not at parties,”

“Good,” she took the can of beer and had a sip of his drink, scowling at the taste. “That tastes like shit,”

“Good thing it’s my drink,” Gyuvin grinned at her, taking it back from her hands, moving his arm to rest across her back, hand on her waist.

Ricky and gunwook joined them, yn assumed they knew about her and Gyuvin, like her friends did. They started some small talk, Ricky was on his second drink while gunwook just had water. Gunwook was busy on lookout, like yn’s other friends were, in case hanbin was to walk in and see Gyuvin and yn.

They talked about classes, and Ricky asked yn for homework answers, which she declined to give. Gunwook told them about the girl in his class who he’d been talking to. They had a date earlier that week, and gunwook really liked her.

In the midst of their conversation, yn’s friends came to join them, hanni dragging yn away from gyuvin slightly, which both of them frowned at. Hanni linked arms with yn, leaning in and whispering hanbin’s name. Yn nodded and mouthed it to gyuvin.

Hanbin soon approached with zhanghao and Matthew, joining in the group. The mood was more tense, a few of yn’s friends separating Yn and gyuvin so they wouldn’t be so obvious. The group did their best to continue as normal.

Within a few minutes they started breaking off, some going to get more drinks, some meeting with other friends. Gyuvin and yn went to get yn a drink. Gyuvin stood next to yn as she fished out a bottle of the cherry cider she always liked. Gyuvin was standing too close for anyone to reasonably think they were just friends. She turned around and he opened the bottle for her, flicking off the cap before handing it back to her.

The two of them shared their drinks as they mixed and mingled. Hanbin was always a good distance away, though his gaze found them more than once. The music in the house was trashy, and it smelled like sweat, beer and weed, but it didn’t bother them. They just took it all in, enjoying the moment.

Ricky and gunwook were playing games upstairs with some other friends, and they could hear the commotion over the speakers. Hanni was with some of her friends, Jaeyun played drinking games while Anton sat on the couch with sohee and a couple other friends.

Gyuvin and yn stayed close together, too crowded for either of them to want to be alone. At one point, when the drinks had kicked in, and hanbin was out of sight for quite a while, gyuvin’s hand fell back on her waist. Yn would have scolded him, but couldn’t bring herself to care about it. Neither of them were drunk, only on their second drinks. Neither of them could really care at the moment.

When the bad pop and nauseating scent became too much for them, gyuvin leaned down a bit to speak into her ear.

“Wanna go upstairs?” He asked softly, and yn looked at him with her eyebrows raised. He awaited her answer, which was a simple nod.

As the two walked upstairs, hanbin spotted them, talking quietly amongst themselves. He decided to not jump to conclusions. He’d stay out of their business for the moment.

“Are we allowed up here?” Yn asked, the sounds of the party muffled as they got to the second floor.

“I mean I am,” Gyuvin grinned. “You’re just my plus one today,”

“What an honor,” she smiled, holding his hand as Gyuvin opened the door to Ricky’s room, leading her inside. Gyuvin walked in and took his hoodie off, laying it on Ricky’s desk, turning to see yn standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her body.

“You cold?” He asked, tilting his head a bit.

She shook her head. “No, just looking around,” she said, realizing her stance made her look uncomfortable. She brushed her hair out of her face.

There was silence for a bit, neither of them knowing what to say to the other. Gyuvin took the chance to move closer to her, moving to stand in front of her, placing a hand on her waist, while the other brought her chin to look at him.

“Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?” He asked, genuinely wondering.

“No, I’m surprised it’s taken you so long,” yn smiled up at him. “But I do remember a conversation involving having sex on Ricky’s bed,” she raised an eyebrow.

Gyuvin laughed a bit. “All jokes,” he told her, and she felt comfortable with his soft laugh. “Unless you wanted to,”

She whacked his chest. “Perv,” she jokingly moved away, and he only brought her closer, laughing.

“No! I’m just saying that if we as two consenting-“

“You’re such a nerd,” yn giggled and gyuvin fake gasped.

“How dare you!” He brought her in closer, kissing her cheek. “I’m not a nerd, you take that back,” he said as he kissed her other cheek.

Yn grinned, “it’s okay, I like nerds,” she told him and gyuvin pulled back a bit with the same smile.

He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he smiled. His fingers rested lightly against her cheek.

“You have no idea how hard it is to not call you my girlfriend every ten seconds,” he tells her.

“Well maybe that’s because I’m not your girlfriend,” she pokes his nose. “You still haven’t asked.”

“I’ll ask soon,” he smiles, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers.

“You know that means we have to tell hanbin, right?” She reminds him.

“He can go cry about it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Yn pulled back with a laugh. “Gyuvin!”

“I’m just saying, it’s not like his approval matters that much,” he shrugged.

Yn just sighed, sitting down on Ricky’s bed with a little smile. “You’re so-“

“Handsome?”

“Annoying,” she says as Gyuvin sits down next to her.

“Lets think like this,” he says. “If hanbin didn’t approve, would you let that stop us?”

Yn just looked at him. She knew the answer, she knew that he was right, and she didn’t want to be held back by the fear of her brothers reaction.

“No,” she answers with a smile.

“Then I think that settles it,” he said, before leaning in and kissing her again.

Their kiss was more than a peck that time, both of them fighting to deepen the kiss more and more. Yn’s hands rested on gyuvin’s chest while one of his hands held her waist, and the other cupped her cheek. The more they deepened the kiss, the more they realized what they wanted in the moment.

There was little space between them, pressed against each other before gyuvin ended up over yn, her hair splayed across the pillow as Gyuvin kissed her neck. They both knew where it would end up. They’d owe Ricky an apology.

But what they didn’t know was that about ten minutes after no sign of them, hanbin went upstairs to see if they were with everyone else. He walked into where the others were playing games, even asked a few other friends if they knew where they were.

Hanbin had walked around the house one more time, asking hanni, sohee, Matthew, anyone who may have seen them before going back upstairs. This time he heard something from Ricky’s room, and opened the door.

He saw gyuvin hovering over his sister, clothes still in tact as they kissed, neither of them noticed him. There probably was a right way to go about this- but hanbin wasn’t in the mood.

“Kim Gyuvin, get off of her,” he said loudly and saw both of them jolt a bit in surprise. It took a moment, but slowly Gyuvin got off the bed, looking down at the floor, not brave enough to look at hanbin.

“Get up yn,” hanbin said and yn quickly got up, pulling her dress down from where it had bunched up a bit.

There was a long, awkward silence. One so thick it could be cut by a knife.

“Do you want to explain?” Hanbin asked, arms folded.

Gyuvin muttered something. Hanbin asked him to repeat it. “We don’t owe you one,” he said, trying to hold his voice steady.

Hanbin scoffed. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few weeks,” yn said quietly, looking at her brother.

“A few weeks? You’ve been sneaking around for a few weeks? What the hell?” Hanbin was clearly upset.

“What did you expect us to do hanbin? You’ve made it glaringly obvious that you don’t like us being together. You’re just mad we didn’t give you the opportunity to stop us,” Gyuvin said and hanbin felt his anger surge.

“You were about to fuck my sister you dick!” He approached gyuvin faster then normal, fists clenched at his side.

Both gyuvin and yn could tell hanbin was about to throw the first punch. Both were ready, gyuvin ready to dodge as yn sprinted over and grabbed hanbin’s arms and yanked him back. She was shocked at how easily she drew him back.

Her brother turned to look at her, anger fading into a mix of emotions as he looked at her.

“You’re out of line hanbin,” she told him sternly. “Until you can handle the fact that I’ve grown up, you can fuck off,” her brows furrowed at her brother. “Go home, hanbin.”

She was surprised how easy it was for him to leave. A huff of annoyance, and he stomped his way down the hall.

The two of them turned back to each other. The mood was ruined by her brothers appearance. Ricky’s bed was spared.

“Do you wanna leave?” Gyuvin asked, brushing his hair back. “The alcohol wore off so I can drive,”

Yn nodded, taking his hand and leading the way out. They said goodbye to their friends, and ended up in gyuvin’s car. Once the engine started, Gyuvin looked over at yn. She looked upset.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why he’s like that, I really don’t,” she apologized.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he told her, his hand resting on her knee. “I think you handled it well. And you stopped me from getting my ass beat,”

Yn smiled. “It would’ve been a funny fight,” she told him.

“It would’ve,” he smiled, leaning back in his seat as he drove them out the parking lot. “This might be forward, but do you want to stay the night?” He asked. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I just want to… enjoy your presence without your brothers complaints,”

Yn laughed a bit. “Sure, I will,”

“Cool,”

~~~~~

The drive to gyuvin’s apartment was quiet, walking up to his flat was quiet, but everything was peaceful. The two of them dropped their things in the kitchen, and gyuvin brought yn to his room.

Gyuvin gave her a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt to wear, and they both changed into pajamas. With a movie playing in the background, they fell asleep in each others arms.

Neither of them had the energy to care about how things would continue with hanbin. They just took each other in, letting the peace of their time together distract them.

Regardless, they were busted.

Masterlist. Previous. Next.

TLDR- they almost fuck and hanbin catches them. Ricky’s bed is saved.

IM SORRY THIS WAS LATE I HAD A BUSY WEEKEND. MIGHT HAVE ANOTHER CHAPTER OUT TMRW

Taglist (open): @annoyingbitch83 , @shanb1n , @hyehae , @aerivrs , @skzhoe4life , @songkangspizza, @gyvnexe , @wheatrice , @zerose62 , @444itgurl , @wonnyy1 , @chewryy , @hittoki , @run2min , @beomgyusonlywife , @straykidswhoo789 , @klo1740 , @xiaoquanquans , @istphanie , @jiaant11 , @pwarkj , @f4iryho0n , @sionshiii , @minfolio @llearlert , @ddeuno-peach , @browniestraykidshiteu , @sleepingisweak , @jjungwonss

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 8 months

Text

Actions and Consequences

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: implied sex (between reader and ex-boyfriend) past boyfriend being rough and mean to reader, eating, official set up of dynamic and rules, a little bit of spicy for you guys 💋(hint)

7 Years Ago

“Two more weeks… I can’t believe it.” Y/n sighs, leaning her head against the shoulder of the boy laying beside her. He smiles, passing a hand over the top of her head, smoothing down her static hair.

“We’re going to be graduates… fuck it’s crazy.” She cranes her neck, smiling as she meets green eyes. He leans forward, pecking her lips quickly. “Alright, let me up. My moms gonna be home soon.” Y/n rolls over, taking the black sheet with her as he climbs out of bed, searching for his shorts.

“Good, I need to help her finish the desserts for your party tomorrow.” After months of hopping from one house to the next, Y/n has finally been able to settle into the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s family home with what little belongings she owns. She sits up, letting the sheet fall around her hips as she snags her t-shirt and leggings off the floor.

“Oh yeah? What y’all making?” He tugs on his tank top, running his hand through his spiky blond hair as he eyes the naked expanse of her back.

Y/n shrugs, pulling on her shirt before slipping into her leggings. “Um I think a lemon cake.” The young man flops onto the bed and she laughs, laying back down beside him, her fingers twining together to rest over her stomach.

“I do like lemon.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile, “Trust me, everyone knows Trever.” He nudges her with his elbow and she laughs, a joy filled sound she’s finally getting use to.

“God, I can’t wait, finally get out of high school and we can just… do whatever. Well I mean I’ve got collage next fall but still.” Trever sighs blissfully before turning to look at his girlfriend. “Gonna come be my secret roommate? Get me in all kinds of trouble.”

“You wish,” Y/n scoffs, nudging him back. “You know my classes start a semester before yours.” Trever stays silent for a moment, Y/n staring up at the ceiling unaware of the change in his once easy expression.

“You’re still serious about that?” The question catches her off guard, her head turning to look at him. His face is pinched, like he can’t believe her. Y/n sits up, turning to face him fully.

“Y-yeah… Trever I’ve been serious about this. It’s the whole reason I work three jobs and bust my ass in school every week.”

He pushes himself up, leaning against his head board. “Look, babe, I’m not trying to be mean here but… do you really think you can do it? You’re talking about the FBI here… they don’t just take anyone. Especially…” He hesitates and her temper flares, her eyes narrowing.

“Especially, what?”

Sighing he gestures to her with a splayed hand, “Ya know… little country girls who don’t really know what they are doing. If you really want to work somewhere that makes you feel like you’re making a difference, why not go for something you’re almost guaranteed a job?” His expression shifts like he’s had the most brilliant idea, ignoring the obvious hurt growing across Y/n’s features. “911 dispatcher! You won’t even have to waste your money on-.”

“Fuck you.” She spits, standing and marching from the room, anger filling her chest to the point it almost hurts.

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that!” Trever follows her out into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder as they reach the top of the stairs. She spins and shoves him, but he plants his feet, gripping her painfully by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again. Not in my goddamn house. You’re lucky my parents are even letting you stay here and you’re gonna act like that?” He shakes her harshly, her teeth slamming together making pain shoot up her jaw.

“At least your parents fucking believe in me! Your moms the one that paid off the rest of my entrance fee last week!” She struggles against him, her hands pushing at his chest but his fingers dig into her muscles. His face reddens but before he can say anything the front door swings open. A short, black haired woman stares up at them in confusion, her mouth open slightly.

Trever steps back quickly and Y/n moves down the stairs, keeping her eyes on her so-called boyfriend. “What is going on? I could hear you screaming from the front porch.” She closes the door behind her, her many bracelets tinkling with the movement as she sets her purse down on the landing.

“Nothing, Mrs. Dwayne.” Y/n says quietly, moving down the stairs until she is beside the woman. “I need to go to work…”

“I thought you were going to bake with me dear?” The sad look that passes across the older woman’s brown eyes makes Y/n’s throat constrict, that hated feeling of pinpricks forming in her nose. In the past five months of her relationship with Trever, Mrs. Dwayne has been nothing short of a mother figure to Y/n. Teaching her to cook, to clean, showing her the basic skills of life without so much as a disgruntled look. She didn’t want to hurt her now.

“I-I will.. I mean I am… I just. I need to go get something for work, I mean. I’ll be back.” Before Mrs. Dwayne or Trever can say a word Y/n is bolting out the front door, towards her run down car, rage and devastation simmering in her chest so heavily she can’t think anymore. The need to be anywhere but here propelling the car into motion.

She wouldn’t break down here, not where anyone could find her, when she’s alone she’ll let the tears run freely and her sobs fill the empty space around her.

Present Day

The rest of Tuesday had crept by silently, nothing like the first half of the day. You had joined Aaron for dinner in the dining room, where he informed you he had a few conference calls to make in the morning and he would check on you when he was done. That was many hours ago.

You had been awake long before the sun rose behind charcoal clouds, listening to the rain pelt your window relentlessly. You sit propped against your pillows, lost in deep thought… shameful deep thoughts. Most of your night was spent tossing and turning, what little sleep you did get wasn’t filled with the usual empty darkness, or the occasional bad dream; instead Aaron had taken up every unconscious thought.

You had dreamt of his hands on your body, much like the day before, only this time there was even less in between his burning palms and your skin. You could feel the reverberation of unheard words from his chest into your back, his hands slipping up, up, up cupping your breasts through your bra. His hips ground against your back, the buckle of his belt biting into your skin as his erection pressed against the swell of your ass. Then his palm began to travel lower, straight to your-

You shake your head fiercely, before smothering yourself with a pillow, groaning loudly. You stay like that for a few long minutes, desperately trying to ignore the ache between your thighs until it becomes to much. Throwing the pillow across the room you climb out of bed and head straight for the bathroom, determined a scalding shower would set your mind right.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Steam billows out of the room after you, a scratchy towel wrapped tight around your body, another holding your hair in place atop your head. The skin along the tops of your shoulders and breasts glow pink, having used the hot water liberally. You make your way over to the bags you had placed on the floor last night, grabbing the closest one and rummaging through it.

Something smooth and soft slips against your hand and you grab it, pulling it free of the wadded up clothing. Realizing you should really organize everything before it all becomes a wrinkled mess. Dropping the bag you unfold a Champaign colored silk night gown. It’s simple, a trim of lace adorns the bodice and it reaches about the middle of your thighs, a small slit up both sides. You can’t remember Aaron ever placing it in the cart otherwise you’d of protested.

A large part of you doesn’t want to wear it, or any of the clothing for that matter. That part was called shame. Shame that he had so easily talked you into letting him buy you all of these clothes, better yet talked you into this whole mess in the first place.

But another part of you, the one that really did not want to wear the same sweats again for the 8th day in a row, won the battle. With a defeated sigh you change into the gown. It’s hugs your body, accentuate your curves and clinging to your damp skin. It’s soft, comfortable, and smells clean, that’s all that matters to you.

You grab your over night bag, pulling out your iPod and headphones before crawling back into bed. You set up your computer to finish working, before pressing play on the little pink device and popping in an ear bud. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand only once, but you ignore it, instead typing away on your computer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning slowly rolls into lunch, a half eaten croissant sandwich lays on your nightstand as you dutifully work, bobbing your head in time to the music.

‘What’s in your head, in your head? Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie-ie, oh’

Something connects with your door, the sound reverberating through the room making you scream. You rip out your ear bud, holding your breath as a series of knocks rattle your door, making your stomach swoop and drop all at once. Slowly you move from your bed to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open a crack. Aaron’s usual hard stare greets you, but his cheeks are tinged red, his lips pressed into a thin line. A shudder wracks through your body at the intensity of his stare, your palms feeling clammy against the door handle.

“Um… hi?” He doesn’t say a word as he wraps a hand around the door, forcing it open and you out of his way as he barges inside. “Hey!”he stops in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other rubs at his forehead. He’s dressed in a darker pair of blue jeans this time, paired with a black collard shirt, probably more appropriate for his conference calls.

“Does your phone not work, or have you just been-.” Aaron turns then and whatever annoyed tyrant he was about to go on dies on his tongue at the sight of you. You’re standing at the door, eyebrows raised and eyes a little wide in panic, but it’s not your expression that stops him. His eye dip to your body, noticing what you’re wearing and something in his stomach stirs at the sight. The dress is stretched around your body, specifically across your stomach, an indent where your belly button is. Your hips are accentuated and he realizes with a small thrill that the fabric is just barely see through as he gaze travels from your breasts to your face.

“Fuck.” He breaths out, and a shiver skirts down your spine at the rumble of his voice, blooming into something warm and fuzzy between your hips. Aaron slowly makes his way to you, and this time you stay rooted to the carpet, your chin lifting and the back of your head bumping against the door as he stops a few mere inches in front of you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Aaron reached up, dragging his knuckle across your spaghetti strap, brushing across your collarbone where it stops on the curve of your neck. He cups the side of your neck, half of his palm resting against your jaw as his thumb sweeps back and forth. That warm and fuzzy feeling has caught fire, burning with a demanding intensity that leaves you reeling.

“My… My phone?” You ask absently, anything to change the direction of what might happen, his dark eyes snap to yours and you wish you had never spoken, anger and lust swirl together in his irises, his pupils dilated.

“Your phone,” He repeats, head tilting slightly as if he couldn’t quite remember what he came here for. “Were you ignoring me?”

You shake your head, then rethink his question. “Well… no not outright. I was working and in my head space, I remember my phone going off a few times but I honestly didn’t think about it.”

Aaron can only find honesty in the doe eyed look you’re giving him. “That’s two, sweetheart. You need to be more attentive.” Your eyebrows furrow, your soft gaze shifting to something hard as you glare up at the older man.

“Be more attentive? If you really needed me you could of just called. I was busy doing work, I still am.” You snap, gesturing towards your bed. He keeps his hand firm on your neck as he turns, glancing at your open laptop and he can faintly hear your music playing. “And what do you mean by two? Why do you keep counting?”

His thumb presses against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head further back and the pressure makes you squirm. He turns back with a small smile, something impish laying behind it. Aaron ducks down closer and you go still, his breath fanning over your lips and you can smell the tingling scent of mint.

“I did. Twice in fact. I’m counting the amount of times you break your rules, how ever many that is will help us decide what your punishment will be.” Aaron watches the blush slowly form across your cheeks before it seeps down your neck underneath his hand. He would be a lier if he said the effect he was having on you didn’t go both ways.

“We didn’t agree on any punishments, and how can I break a rule I didn’t know about?” You utter, quietly, your eyes betraying you and dropping away from his stare. Aaron smirks, nodding as he smooths his hand down to your collarbone, feeling the wild thump of your heart through your skin.

“That’s why I’m here. We’re going to discuss everything. Over lunch.” He steps back leaving you glued to the door staring at him baffled. “What are you in the mood for? We’ll order something in instead of risking the weather.” And as if the sky could hear his wise judgment a roll of thunder shakes the building. You squeeze your eyes shut until the noise dies off and the only thing that can be heard is the rain splattering against the window once more.

Aaron watches you, gaining a new piece of information, before walking towards the nightstand where the muted green hotel phone lays. He notices your half eaten breakfast sandwich and mutters something you can’t quiet hear.

“Um.. pizza?”

“Pizza it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Not long after a steaming pepperoni and sausage is sitting on your dresser. Aarons posted in the chair again and you’re perched on the foot of the bed, picking at the melted cheese glancing your boss’s way every now and again.

“You look like you have something you want to say.” Aaron says, taking a large bite of his slice. Your shoulder rises and falls, watching him openly now. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… human. This is the same man you’ve witnessed stand his ground against men ready to kill, talk down others who are ready to end it all; protect his team with a fierceness that goes unmatched by any other. It’s hard to think of him as anything else besides SSA Hotchner, but right here… is just Aaron.

“I don’t know… I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.” You admit, biting into your lower lip. “Everything is just… it’s such a sudden change and hasn’t been easy to get use to.”

Aaron smile is pitying at best and you want to convince yourself you hate it. “I know baby. You’ll get there, though. We have the entire month to smooth everything out and come to understand each other better.” The loose use of different pet names makes your insides bubble with craved affection, shame tinting your skin. “Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“You do, at any point you can call it off, but you know exactly where that leads.” His tone is all to knowing of your decision and you huff, scrubbing your hands across your face. He takes your silence as reluctant agreeance, pulling out his phone. “Last night I came up with some rules, punishments and rewards that I think will suit you and I the best.” He taps away at his phone for a few seconds before continuing. “The first, simple, call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us. Second, don’t doubt me when I say I am buying you something or taking you somewhere. Money is not an issue. Third-.”

“Answer my phone at your beck and call?” The sarcastic question sort of fell from your lips, causing Aaron’s eyes to narrow as he sets his paper plate down on the pizza box.

“Third.” He emphasizes, drawing out the word. “Check in with me. I need to know you are okay, if you’ve made it where you are going, if there is anything you need. It’s important that you do so.”

“That’s going to be hard to do when we will be on cases and working.” You point out, picking apart your pizza and taking small bites of the greasy dough.

“That’s why all of these rules are moldable to how we live. Work is for work, but some things will still apply. Like making sure you are eating, drinking plenty of water, getting rest when you can. After hours, when it’s just us, I expect you to follow your rules completely.” He watches the way you pluck off the pepperonis, setting them off to the side. “Punishments won’t be a daily thing like it is with others. We can pick a day where we sit and go over everything you’ve done wrong for the week, then decide your punishment from there. I have a few ideas such as choosing your clothing for the week, have your write lines, have you kneel for an extended period of time.”

Your nose scrunches, the next thing your peeling from your pizza is the little balls of sausage. “That all sounds a bit childish.”

“You aren’t wrong. But you’d be surprised how childish a person can act when given rules.” You roll your eyes making him chuckle. “Just like that.” You shoot him a halfhearted glare that he returns with a smile. “But if you’ve been a brat all day, disobeying me and forgetting your rules multiple times, then I may need to resort to something a bit harsher. Putting you over my knee, bondage, collar.” He watches your face flush, eyes going wide like a full moon. “Even then. It’s more so about the embarrassment than it is ever about the pain. Some people find these things enjoyable.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Aaron’s smile takes on a more devious twist, letting his head rest against his fist as he props his arm on the chair. “Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”

You stare at him in shock, your half deconstructed pizza laying forgotten in your lap as your insides burn. Your mind betrays you, questions popping up like wildfires; what would it feel like? Would he leave marks on your skin? Would you enjoy it like he says?

Stammering you drop your gaze from his, his smile never fading as he searches the soft planes of your face, forcing himself not to look any lower than your exposed collarbones and the gentle slope of your shoulders. You set your plate to the side, crossing then uncrossing your legs, the bed creaking as you try to sort through your thoughts. “Can um… can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Does David know? And if so is there anyone else?”

Aaron nods, then quickly raises his hands at the look of panic crossing your features. “David is the only one who knows, and that’s not because I told him out right.” Your panic quickly melts into confusion. “David is the one who suggested I bring up a contract with you.”

Your jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted. “Wait.. David’s… he’s into this?” Aaron nods again, letting you piece together what you will with that crumb of information. “Oh… so… that means the two do you were talking about me.”

Aaron laughs, a deep pleasant sound. “I promise, it wasn’t anything like you might think. We are just worried, and he thought it would be more appropriate coming from me than him.” Despite his humor you can feel panic rising steadily in your chest.

“Ho- Aaron what if someone finds out?”

“There isn’t any reason for anyone to know.”

The iron grip of your blooming panic wraps itself around your throat, your body humming with a desperate need to move and open your lungs. You stand from the bed and begin to pace the small area, passing Aaron with each turn on your heel.

“What if one of us slips up? The amount of trouble we could get into is-it’s astronomical. I’d be forced out of my job because I’m suddenly a woman who sleeps with their boss. You would be forced to resign but of course they’ll go easy on you-.”

“Honey-.”

“-Even if it doesn’t get to that point, the entire team will see me differently. They will question the authenticity of my role and my job. Oh God, and Morgan would be relentless with the teasing.”

“Y/n.”

“He still calls me señorita after I messed up my order at that Mexican restaurant a month ago! He’d never let us-.” Aaron leans forward, capturing your wrist as you walk by with a sharp tug. Pain laces up your already tense muscles and on instinct you turn, your hand lashing out and connecting with the side of Aaron’s face.

Everything goes silent, both of you stuck staring at the other in shock. “I-I’m… I didn’t mean-.” Aaron pulls you down and you clumsily fall into him, knee banging against the chair; your free hand landing on his shoulder. Aaron wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing and before you can utter a word his lips crash into yours.

A muffled squeal escapes the back of your throat, squirming in his tight hold but it proves useless as his other hand drops your wrist, circling the back of your thigh and pulling you fully into his lap. Thighs caging his hips, chest pressed tight against his you squeeze your eyes shut. Aaron depends the kiss, moving his lips against yours allowing a few whimpering syllables to reach the air.

Your heart hammers painfully, your hands gripping at his shoulders but to your surprise you find your body relaxing. Every panicked thought is eclipsed by Aaron as his tongue slowly traces the seem of your lips, asking for entrance that you hesitantly give. But once you get your first taste of him you know you’re gone for, a soft moan rattles through your chest and Aaron devours it, licking into your mouth like a man starved.

His rough hand slips up your thigh, mindful to stay over your dress as it rides up, to cup your ass, squeezing the fat making your hips jump. The involuntary movement makes you grind down against him, pulling out another moan that is quickly followed by one of his own. He is all you can focus on, the fingers in your hair at the base of your skull, the growing bulge pressing into your heated core, the way the side of his nose bumps into yours. His thighs shift, sliding you further into his lap with a ragged groan.

Slowly, almost unwillingly you pull back, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. He gives you the silent moment you need, his fingers scratching your scalp slightly as you try to compose yourself atop him. He can’t stop the way his eyes roam to your lips though, the short taste of you forever imbedded in his brain.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open you meet his half lidded gaze, you lick your lips. “I-I need some time alone…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours later your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you glance at it from where you lay, curled up on your side in bed. Your fingers keep tracing your kiss swollen lips, unable to stop thinking about anything else. Grabbing your phone you roll onto your other side, opening your texts.

A new message from Aaron pops up, and your thumb hovers over the screen, your stomach churning with anticipation. Clicking the screen a long message pulls up.

‘Let me know what you want to change, my sweet girl.’

A smile tugs at your lips without your permission, cheeks reddening as you read over the list of rules, rewards, and punishments that follow. At the very end, boldened followed by a question mark is the word:

‘Spanking?’

You take a deep breath, sealing your fate with a few clicks of your keyboard.

Thank you all for the amount of love this has received 😭 I can’t wait to continue writing the rest of this story. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch smut #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds

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reidingandwriting · 13 days

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Speak Now (Hotch’s Version)

Chapter Two: i can see you

“I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission”

Word Count: 2,200 words

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: Criminal Minds level of violence described, definitely Not how solving cases goes but!!, some cursing and some suggestive themes

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: SOOO sorry for the delay in posting! I was at a convention this weekend and my queued post didn’t post for whatever reason :’) Chapter 3 is still scheduled for tomorrow so I hope you enjoy the back to back update!

“We’ve got a case,” JJ said and you stood up from your desk to walk to the conference room. You had only been a part of the BAU for two months or so now, but the novelty had yet to wear off yet. Every time JJ announced a new case, you got a rush. A wave of a familiar cologne enveloped you, and you felt an arm brush against your own.

“Sorry,” Hotch’s voice filled your ears, the single word causing a chill to go down your spine.

“No problem,” Your voice came out quieter than you expected and you internally cursed. Where did you begin with Aaron Hotchner? Ever since you met at the FBI Banquet, he had occupied your mind. Your first day, you were pleased that he remembered you and since then, he’s seemed… not quite distant but not quite friendly with you either. Not like he was at the banquet. He was professional as his reputation said he would be, but you were wishing there was more to your relationship. You wanted to lean into the brushed shoulders, you wanted to initiate contact with him, but you didn’t want to jeopardize anything with him, especially being so new to the team. But you let yourself wonder, what would happen if you acted on your impulses? If you let yourself think about it long enough, you could see him waiting down the hall for you. Ideally pressed against the wall, but you digress. You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts as you walked into the conference room, and you took your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Alright, my pretties,” Penelope greeted once everyone was seated and you looked up at the screen behind her. “Houston has reached out for our help and this one is a bit of a doozy.” Pictures flashed behind Penelope and you felt your stomach turn a little at the pictures.

“Hello, overkill,” Emily muttered and you hummed in agreement.

“We’ve clearly got a very angry person on our hands. There’s been five victims over the last two weeks, and their kill rate is starting to pick up.” Penelope said.

“They’ve killed men and women, no obvious preference for gender,” JJ said and you nodded.

“Can’t say for certain if they’re victims of opportunity, though,” you said. “I don’t know the exact area they’re acting in, but the victims all seem eerily similar. Hair color, skin color, similar builds… Someone is the object of their aggression but our unsub hasn’t gotten to their target yet.”

“And the kills are getting rushed, more violent,” Derek said.

“Wheels up in twenty,” Hotch said as he started to stand.

“You know,” Spencer started and you glanced over at him, “they look similar to you, Y/N.” The room froze and you felt everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“Don’t even say that about my lovely,” Penelope gasped dramatically and you rolled your eyes playfully at her antics.

“There are some similarities,” Rossi said and you looked up at the pictures.

“Similar features, sure, but I don’t think I’ve done anything to piss off anyone to the point of murder in Houston,” you drawled and the room started to disperse. Hotch stayed in the room, his gaze locked onto you.

“If you feel uncomfortable on this case at any time,” Hotch trailed off and you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine, Hotch. I’m not worried. But I promise, I’ll let you know if I get uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nodded in dismissal and you slipped out of the conference room.

A week later, you held an ice pack to your head where you sat in the back of an ambulance as you waited to be cleared. Turns out, they don’t call Spencer a genius for nothing. You were a perfect victim for your unsub- Officer Josh Hann- and you found yourself ambushed by him a few hours ago. You were lucky to only get away with a concussion and a few bumps and bruises. Derek stood beside you, his phone held to your ear.

“Yes, Pen, I promise I’m fine.”

“And how is our Boss Man doing?” Penelope asked and you barely repressed a cough.

“Fine, Pen.” Said Boss Man was currently a few yards away, his gaze glued to you as Rossi talked to him.

“Sounds like the perfect excuse for him to watch over you,” Penelope teased and you felt your cheeks start to burn.

“Bye, Penelope.” Penelope cackled as she hung up and you rolled your eyes then winced. “Ow.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear any of that conversation,” Derek teased and you kicked out at him, and Derek laughed as he narrowly missed your leg.

“You're lucky my vision is still a little off or I would’ve got you,” you huffed. The paramedic chose that moment to clear you and you slowly stood, grabbing onto Derek to steady yourself.

“Easy, pretty thing. Hotch is already glaring at me,” Derek lowered his voice and this time, you made contact when you stomped your foot. “You know Penelope can’t keep her mouth closed after a little wine. You’re lucky it was just me she spilled to.”

“I would resign immediately if he knew. Just throw my badge and gun as far as I could and run,” you said and Derek laughed.

“You know there’s a wager going on when he’ll find out.” Another stomp to Derek’s foot silenced him as Hotch walked over. Derek dismissed himself when Hotch was a few feet away

“Are you ready to go?” Hotch asked and you nodded, only wincing slightly after.

“So ready. I want to sleep so bad,” you admitted and Hotch hummed in response. You both started to walk to the cars, where the rest of the team had started to load up. “Not ready to be woken up every few hours to make sure I’m still coherent. I think a little risk of brain damage is worth the uninterrupted sleep.” You huffed and the corner of Hotch’s lip turned up into a small smile.

“I’m sure you’re not much worse than Jack is waking up,” Hotch said and you turned to look at him. Sensing your questioning look, Hotch spoke again a second later. “If you’re fine with me checking on you. I just… I’d feel better if I was the one to check on you. You already got hurt on my watch.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Hotch. But thank you.”

The rest of the night was relatively calm, what bits you remember clearly. You would sleep for a little, be woken up and asked a few questions by Hotch, and he would return to his bed a few feet from your own to repeat the process throughout the night. God, his morning voice would live in your memories forever. You weren’t sure what happened that night, but something changed between the two of you. And you had to admit, you liked the changes.

You found yourself paired with Hotch more often when the team split up. Hotch’s shoulders would brush against yours more often, and when Hotch laid his hand on your shoulder one day, you swear your brain short circuited. Not that you would know because you genuinely think you blacked out briefly from the contact, but Emily and Derek would never let you forget it. As time passed, you noticed you were watched by the team more often, especially when you were near Hotch. The day Hotch sat beside you on the plane, you swore you heard a squeal come from Emily before she was shushed by JJ. And this extra time spent with Hotch was great for you, but so bad for your imagination. You found yourself lost in thought more often, like a lovesick teenager. Imagining things with Hotch you know you’d never get to do, knowing he would never reciprocate your feelings. You’d stick with daydreaming for now; pretending he was waiting at the end of the hall for you when you left work. Pretending it was his suit jacket thrown on the floor instead of your own, his want for you high enough to discard his jacket like it was nothing. You could only dream… or so you thought.

You had been working on paperwork from your last case, when Hotch dropped a folder onto your desk as he walked by. You furrowed your brows as you opened the folder, and you could barely keep your expression under control as you read the sticky note inside- Meet me in my office tonight.You had to read over the note a few times for it to really set in and you glanced up, watching as Hotch went upstairs to his office as if nothing happened.

The rest of work passed by agonizingly slow, and you busied yourself with paperwork you had put off from the week. Slowly, the rest of the BAU agents had trickled out; even if it took all your self control to not push Spencer out of the building when he finally left ten minutes ago. You took a deep breath as you stood, and you made your way upstairs towards Hotch’s office. His blinds were already closed and you knocked on his door.

“Come in.” Hotch’s voice was muffled by the shut door and you slowly opened the door. Sweet Jesus, he wanted you dead. Hotch’s jacket was off, tie slightly loosened, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and you swear your brain once again malfunctioned at the sight.

“I, uh, got your note,” You said dumbly and you fought the urge to run out of the building. “Obviously,” you added and Hotch graced you with a smile, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. The sound helped you relax a little and you smiled softly at Hotch.

“You’re nervous. You’re usually not nervous around me.” The observation was surface level, but it felt like you were being studied. “If you’d rather go-”

“No!” You blurted before you cleared your throat, and you took a seat across from Hotch’s desk. “No. I guess I’m just, I’m wondering why I’m here.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Hotch asked and you leaned forward.

“I have an idea. You could even say I have a desire for why you called me here, but,” you propped your elbows on his desk, “why don’t you clear the air, Agent Hotchner?” A few moments passed in a deafening silence, your eyes locked with Hotch’s.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” Hotch started. “I felt something different when I met you at the banquet, and I didn’t know what that feeling was. Intrigue, for sure. Then you showed up one day, and Strauss introduced you as my new agent.”

“What can I say? I like being a mysterious entity,” you said.

“And you continued to be one, and it’s gotten stronger since that case you were injured. You’re constantly preoccupying my mind,” Hotch said and you slowly stood up. You rounded his desk and sat on top of it, and you slowly reached out. Your hand found its way to his tie, and you gave it a firm tug, pulling him closer to you.

“Wanna know a secret?” You asked, leaning down closer to him. You were so close, you noticed some gold flecks in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before. “You’ve been on my mind since we first met.” You weren’t sure who closed the gap, but suddenly lips were on yours, and Hotch’s hands were on your hips and you gasped as you were yanked into his lap. You grabbed at his shirt with one hand, your other finding its home in his hair, and you felt a surge of pride when a groan slipped from Hotch’s lips. “Fuck, Aaron.”

Hotch backed away slightly and you almost whined at the loss. “What was that?”

“Aaron..?” You hesitantly repeated and Hotch pulled you closer.

“Fucking hell.” Hotch’s lips were back on yours and you lost yourself, preoccupied with him. You didn’t know how long had passed before you pulled apart, breathing heavy, and Hotch’s forehead rested against your own.

“Penelope will have a field day if she finds out about this.” You breathed out a laugh and Hotch shifted so you were looking at him.

“And what exactly do you want this to be?” Hotch seemed… nervous? Vulnerable? Something different from the confident man you had become infatuated with.

“As much as I loved making out with you, ideally?” You ran your fingers gently through Hotch’s hair. “I’d like to try getting dinner with you. Maybe spend some time together, not hidden in your office.” You smiled at Hotch. “I believe that’s what they call dating these days.”

“I haven’t dated in a while,” Hotch said and you shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” You asked and Hotch nodded. You pressed a gentle kiss to Hotch’s cheek and you let your head rest against his shoulder.

“I think I can work with that.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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hwaseonghwasworld · 3 months

Text

Arranged marriage chapter 3: Wedding Ceremony

Summary: being a popular model isn't enough for Y/n’s parents so they decided to get her married with a 6’1”, protective male who is also a mafia, all the secrets and lies everyone kept from her will soon come into the light, what happens once the truth comes out?

Yunho x Reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: series Mafia au!, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Media au!

Warnings: murder, graphic violence, kidnapping, cursing

Updates: Probably Thursday at 7pm BST

I hate this…

Getting married to a guy I only met once, and watching as people took pictured with me then going to go sit down at the main area, I rolled my eyes as people actually thought I was I love with this stranger, my grandma walked up to me and I tried smiling just for her, “you two look like such a beautiful couple, how did you two meet? Why didn’t you tell me about him?” I looked at my mom who decided to take a picture with both of us and she just smiled and laughed a little.

“You know kids these days, mother, they’re always keeping secrets” I sighed and they stood up and hugged me then walked into the main room. My friends hugged me and we sat down and took pictures, I nodded at them about the plan and we started, “Y/n your bun is loose” “really? Let’s go to my changing room to fix it” we walked away apologising to everyone and we walked to the changing room, I look at Setsuna since she’s the one that decided to switch with me. “Tsuna are you ready to get married again?” She nodded and we quickly switched clothes.

After putting the veil over her head and a cap on mine, before we stepped out Nina said something “why don’t we just run out of the venue instead” I look at her like she’s dumb “you know how obvious it is if I just run out, did you not see the amount of bodyguards here, it’s even risky doing this” she nodded and the girls and I went to go sit down at the main area, while Tsuna was getting ready to walk down the isle, my father got her to hold his arm while she made sure not to look at my father.

“Y/n I understand that you’re mad at me, but… this is for your safety” as soon as Tsuna was standing next to Yunho, Yunho could feel that something was wrong when she was avoiding eye contact

~ Yunho pov ~

Y/n was acting weird… when we first spoke she always kept eye contact even when she didn’t want to, now she was playing with her dress and avoiding eye contact. As soon as I finally got a good look at her… it wasn’t Y/n I look over at the seats and see a girl in a cap who hid her face with the cap but by looking at her lips it was definitely Y/n.

“This isn’t Y/n!”

~ Y/n pov ~

“Shit” I got up and was about to run out buy got stopped by two large body guards who grabbed my arms and dragged me towards Yunho “GET OFF ME” they finally let go of me as soon as I was face to face with Yunho, I looked into his eyes in anger. “I don’t know you enough to marry you” he took my hat off and ran his hands through my hair he grinned touching my cheek and bent down to my height and whispered something in my ear “Y/n trust me, please” i was confused but nodded, why should i trust him is my dad up to something?

As soon as the vows finished we were meant to kiss, he grabbed my cheek and kissed me, I looked shocked but closed my eyes to make it look like I’m kissing him back, once he broke the kiss and smiled while everyone that didn’t know the truth plus my parents clapped. I broke the kiss and looked at how Yunho was just smiling at me.

After a while my older brother Hyunjin pulled me outside while I was talking to my friends, “You can’t be with that guy” I looked at him confused not knowing what he meant, I didn’t want to bring up the fact that it was forced upon me so I just asked him why “is there something wrong?” “I-It’s not being don’t worry” I looked at him pissed since he just bring me out here for no reason then “you can’t just do that asshole” he walked away and I ran up to him and slapped his head in anger “Hyunjin what is it?!” “I said don’t worry!” Yunho pulled me behind him and I could feel the tension between Hyunjin and Yunho.

I decided to just leave cause I didn’t want anything to do with this.

~ Yunho ~

“Stay the fuck away from my sister” “we’re married dumbass” Hyunjin rolled his eyes “look just don’t hurt her cause I know your group is pretty fucking sadistic” “I would never hurt her I love her…” “oh yeah right you had a crush on her in high school” him being that up reminded me about how she acted when we first met again at her house “why can’t she remember me” Hyunjin sighed passing me a cigarette.

“On her 18th birthday something happened and the trauma made her forget stuff” “what happened?” Hyunjin looked at me like he remembered that we hate each other “it’s not my part to say… just don’t ask Y/n about it she already hates her birthday cause of it, just don’t remind her” Hyunjin walked away and I said something before he went into his car. “Where’s your group at?” “I’m not bringing them here, I’m not trying to ruin my sisters wedding with rivals.”

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 4 months

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Living in My Head

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: Male masturbation, inability to come, Allusions to childhood abuse, Mommy issues, Parental abuse, Coersion, drinking, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, angst, heartbreak, stepcest(in bold, this is *again* heavy on the issues around this),Manipulation/gaslighting, traumatic childhood, parental neglect, angst, grief, regret, depression, Allusion to violence/past SA, abusive relationships, Strained parent-adult child relationship. Let us know if we missed anything! Thank you again, as always to my co-author, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine - This would not be the series it is without you.

6.7k words.

AO3 link <- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

Nancy returned from helping Danielle to an empty home. Dave’s car is gone and you’re not picking up your phone, but she’s already over it by her second glass of wine. She sits at the kitchen island, brightly manicured fingers drumming on the polished countertops as she looks over the glossy photographs the PI sent across.

She’s pouring her third glass of wine as the frustration prickles under her skin. She knows it can’t be later than six, but she doesn’t care. She needs this drink, and the two that came before.

“So,” she asks, annoyance clear in her tone as she looks them over, “What am I looking at?”

“My guess? A lover’s spat, maybe he forced himself on her and she bolted? But there’s some high emotions there. Poor girl’s crying her eyes out.”

“Well, it’s a start,” Nancy sighs, she was expecting something a bit more titillating than this, “Keep up the good work, Philip. Let me know if you get anything good.”

“Yes, Ma’am, happy to help.”

The line goes dead and Nancy lifts one of the photographs to study it closer. Your eyes are red and puffy as you scream something from the passenger side of a car Nancy doesn’t recognize. Your cheeks are wet and you’re angry.

There’s a small, quiet part of her brain that pities you, makes her feel bad for whatever it was Dave did to upset you. But it’s quickly glossed over, forgotten, as she hears the front door open and close. Her lips curl up as she hears Dave’s voice from the hall.

“Hey, honey, I’m home.”

“Hey, babe, I’m in the kitchen.”

Dave saunters in, perfectly practiced smile on his face as he approaches her. Immediately he senses something is off, from the photographs on the table to the smirk on Nancy’s face. It’s obvious something big is going to go down.

“Care to explain these?”

~*~

You pace the small length of Ash’s spare room frantically as you wait for her to come home from work. It’s been a month since she took you in, and you realize you really need to come clean to her. About everything. You’d told her about the cam work the morning after she’d picked you up. Like the super star she is, she’d taken it incredibly well. So, you’d kept working, making more content than ever.

Yet there’s another reason you need to have a chat. You’ve finalized the rental of an apartment in the city, so you’re moving out. But you feel like you owe Ash an explanation, she hasn’t so much as pushed the issue since you arrived. Besides the initial ‘Did someone touch you?’ ‘Are you hurt?’ ‘Do I need to call the police?’ Ash had let you grieve, wallow, and recover at your own pace.

She only had to make you shower once, and that was in the first week, when everything was just too much.

You hear Ash before she’s even through the door, singing Wham!’s ‘Last Christmas’ at the top of her lungs as she struts through the apartment building. You roll your eyes, it’s not December for another week, but there’s no arguing with Ash over it being too early.

Your phone vibrates and you snatch it up, a small part of you hoping to hear from Dave, but you’re glad it’s not. As much as you can’t admit it out loud, you miss him, and you’re regretting the call for radio silence now. The fact that he’s still respecting your boundaries only makes you ache even more for him.

Mom: Hey, sweetheart, I’m just checking in again. I’m worried about you, please just let me know you’re alive.

You shake your head as you pocket the phone, you’ve been posting on your socials, and she follows you on every platform she knows about. She knows you’re alive, she just wants you to cave, to give in to her pestering. You focus back on the issue at hand as you hear Ashleigh announce herself from the front door.

“Hey, bitch, I’m home!”

“Hey, good day?”

You ask as you take a steadying breath, trying to quell your nerves as you step out into the modest open plan space of the kitchen-diner-living room. Ash is mid-flop onto the sofa as she looks up at you, whatever she was going to say lost to the way she’s now frowning at you.

“It was fine, what’s wrong?”

You wince as you take your place next to her on the threadbare sofa, you’ve never been able to hide your feelings from Ash.

“I’ve got something I need to tell you,” you start, knee bobbing up and down as you try – and fail – to get comfortable, “about Dave, my stepdad.”

“I know who Dave is,” Ash’s tone is guarded, you can almost hear the gears grinding away in her mind as she stares you down, “What did he do?”

“He didn’t- I mean, that’s not how it went down-,” you fumble, caught off guard by the judgement in Ash’s tone.

“So, what did happen?”

“We fucked.”

You blurt it out, covering your eyes as you wait for the verbal abuse to start flowing. You feel your gut twist in knots as you brace yourself for the shame, the disappointment you know is coming.

“Well, shit, that explains a lot.”

Ash says finally and you look up to see an incredulous look on her face. No anger, not even a hint of disgust. She just looks like Ash always does when she’s figured something out. A satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“What do you mean?” you ask, lips pinched together as you track every move Ash makes, watching for sudden movements, changes in body language.

“That night, the one where you went home with that douchebag, was it then?”

“God, no! He’s NOT like that, Ash, he was just doing what any good guy would do,” you shrug, knowing how unconvincing a statement that is.

“Hey, chill, it was just a question,” Ash raises an eyebrow at you, “So he picked you up, and he just took you home?”

You nod slowly, chewing your lip as you take a beat to compose yourself.

“Did he at least kick that guy's ass?”

Ash’s tone is a little defensive and you look up to see her jaw clenched.

“I think he beat the ever-living shit out of him,” you smile despite yourself, “but I was pretty out of it, the guy did a number on me and I’m pretty sure his friends would have helped themselves if I’d stayed.”

“He beat on them too?”

You shake your head, you hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Dave must have really fucked Tristan up for the other two to have stayed put.

“No, they backed off when Dave carried me out of there.”

It’s still so fuzzy but you remember flashes of Tristan’s crumpled form on the floor. The way his friends looked like they’d seen something horrific.

Maybe they had.

“Jesus! Is he some kind of James Bourne?” Ash says with a scoff and you both laugh at the ridiculous nature of it. Dave, a super soldier government assassin.

“So, he’s been looking out for you, when did you guys fuck? Was it just one time?”

“Three times,” you say as heat prickles under your skin, from embarrassment but also from the memory, “and it’s been almost two months since the last time.”

“Is it more than sex?”

You hesitate, too long really to deny it, but you still can’t say it aloud.

“It can’t be,” you mutter as you look down at your shoes.

“So, that’s a yes,” Ash says with a sigh as she grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in for a tight hug. You flinch at the contact initially, but you lean into her strong embrace.

“It’s so fucked up, Ash,” you shudder as you weep into her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she hums as she continues to hold you, her tone musing, “but we don’t always get dealt the best hand, right? I mean, this is probably one of your healthiest relationships to date.”

“Ash!”

You pull back, trying to sound angry as you know she’s not wrong. You can’t even recall a single stable, remotely healthy relationship.

“If you could remove your mom – figuratively – from the situation,” Ash asks as she rubs the edge of her jaw, her thinking face on, “Would you pursue him?”

“Yes.”

The word is out of your mouth before you can stop it and the realization sinks in. You finally allow yourself to admit to the feelings you’ve been shunning for weeks.

I have feelings for him.

“I like him, Ash, more than just for the sex. I asked him to halt contact, and he has, and he even stopped watching my streams.”

“He watched your streams?” Ash is back on offence now, concern twisting her face into a scowl.

“He didn’t know it was me,” you say, and you cringe as you hear it aloud, “He’d been watching for months before he found out.”

“He let you keep streaming after you fucked?”

“Let me? Come on Ash, I thought you’d be more open minded than that,” You can’t help but scoff at the notion of Dave letting you do anything, “Dave has been nothing but supportive, he made sure I knew it too.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to get a read on this man. This is a man who jumped at the chance to fuck his stepdaughter,” you cringe at how blunt she’s being, but Ash keeps going, “You can’t expect me not to think there’s some coercion here, some manipulation or shitty attitudes towards this kind of work.”

“I love that you care about me to worry so much, I really do,” you shake your head, “But Dave isn’t like that, he respects me, my boundaries. I hate to say it, it’s so fucking cliché, but he’s not like anyone that came before, Ash. He actually gives a damn about me beyond sex. He’s not once tried to control or dictate my actions. In fact, he goes out of his way to make sure this is on my terms, always.” You take a long-overdue breath and Ash looks at you, eyebrow raised as she waits for you to continue.

“The stepdad thing is just,” you pause, trying to find the right word, “unfortunate.”

“It’s more than unfortunate, you idiot, it’s a fucking Greek Tragedy. God, you really are into him, aren’t you?” Ash smiles, her face softening as she shakes her head.

“Yeah,” you feel your shoulders slump, a tension you hadn’t realized was there finally easing.

“What a shitshow.”

“Yeah, and you’re right, it still ranks up there as one of the healthiest relationships I’ve ever had.”

You meant it as a joke, but it hangs in the air between you. Ash knows everything, she’s been there through everything. There’s a pregnant pause as you both mull over the conversation, neither of you quite knowing what to say.

“So, what are you going to do?”

You go to answer when your phone buzzes continually and you know who the caller is going to be before you even look.

“Let me guess,” Ash sighs, “The Wicked Witch of Central Texas?”

“Of course it is,” you sigh, declining the call, “I need to at least text her back, she’s becoming more persistent.”

“Just don’t say anything you’ll regret,” Ash shrugs.

“I’ll answer it later, there’s something else I needed to tell you.”

You throw your phone back down and take a deep breath.

“Fuck, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“No!” You say panicking, the mere thought of it making your insides twist.

“Nothing like that, I’m moving out.”

“Ah shit,” Ash sounds genuinely disappointed, “I kind of liked having you around.”

“I love living with you, your shitty singing aside, but I need to do this, for me.”

Ash sneers at the singing comment but you can see the genuine sadness in her eyes at the news.

“When do you get the keys?”

“Monday, going to need some help getting my shit from Nancy’s,” you say, hoping that Ash gets the hint.

“That’s the first time you’ve called her by her first name,” Ash says, nothing but observation in her statement but you realize it’s a big deal.

“I guess it is.”

You sit on that for a moment, not sure how to feel about it when your phone buzzes again. This time another text. You look down to see one from your dad too and a twist of guilt in your gut makes you bite your lip.

“I gotta look at this or she’s going to be calling me all night.”

“Alright, well I’m hitting the shower, don’t let her sink her claws back into you or get you involved in whatever current MLM she’s pedaling.”

Ash kisses you on the top of the head before getting up from the sofa and stretching out dramatically.

“Is there a difference?”

Ashleigh doesn’t respond as she heads into the bathroom at the other end of the room, the door clicking shut behind her as you hear her start to sing once more. This time it’s Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is You.’

You open the text from your dad, and you roll your eyes. Your guilt is assuaged as you see the clear evidence of your mom making him text you.

Dad: hey, your mom told me you’re not returning her calls. She said you left the house, no note, nothing. What’s going on? Are you ok?

You’re just surprised it’s taken this long for her to enlist him to her cause. Usually, she’s under his skin much sooner than this. You open your mom’s conversation thread and sigh. There are over thirty messages there. Ranging from guilt tripping sob stories, to angry ‘Where Are You?’s’ and incoherent gibberish from where she was clearly drunk at 8pm and desperate.

Mom: Hey darling, I’m really sorry you felt you needed to leave the house. Dave won’t tell me what he did, he says you just needed space. Space from what, honey? What did he do? Do you need me to come and get you? I’m just so worried about you, please just let me know where you are and that you’re safe. Just a text would be enough, please?

I love you, honey, and I would do anything for you, you know that right? Xxx

You sit for a while, trying to convince yourself to ignore her but you’re tired of the incessant messaging, the constant pressure to respond. Then you think of Dave, of how he’s not contacted you once, not logged into Cam Dolls for the whole time. You bite your lip as you make the decision to call her.

You pad back into Ash’s spare room and shut the door. She answers on the second ring. You sit down at the foot of the bed as you brace yourself for the spiel you know too well by now.

“Oh, baby is that you? Are you ok? Where are you?”

“Hey, mom,” you sigh, already pinching the bridge of your nose as you try not to sigh outwardly at the fake concern lacing her tone, “I’m fine, I’m with Ash, I’m safe.”

“Baby what happened? What did he do to you?”

You clench your jaw at the insinuation, but you try not to let it bleed into your voice as you respond.

“Nothing, mom, I just needed space, things with you and Dave are too weird for me right now.”

“What do you mean weird?”

The fact that you keep pushing the angle that he forced himself on me for one. Doesn’t exactly scream marital bliss.

You think to yourself as you flop back down onto the modest single bed. You’re already exhausted by her shit, less than two minutes into the call.

“I know there’s something going on between you, it’s been clear since I moved in.”

You confer if you’ve been too forward as your mom goes uncharacteristically silent on the other end.

“We’re having issues yes, but we’re working on them.”

You fight the urge to scoff as you nod along.

“I think me being there makes it awkward,” you say as you nod to yourself, “You and Dave need your home to be yours, especially if you’re working on stuff.”

“You’re always too selfless. You know that, kiddo?”

“I’ve been told.”

There’s a silence as you have genuinely run out of things to say, you’re bored by the predictability of your mom’s behavior.

“I was thinking,” your mom breaks the silence, uncertainty clear in her voice, “Would you come to dinner tomorrow night, just so we can talk about all of this, so I can make things right?”

Your first thought is whether Dave will be there, but you don’t press the issue, there’s no point raising suspicion now.

“Sure.”

You agree too quickly, but you know it’ll buy you her goodwill. She’ll back off if you can survive one evening in her home. Eating her food, being provided for.

“Really?” Your mom cries out, clearly expecting you to decline.

“I said yes, didn’t I?”

“Don’t be like that,” your mother’s tone changes to scolding, “You don’t have to be a bitch about it, don’t come if you don’t want to-,”

“Mom,” you snap, not willing to put up with her speaking to you like this, “I said yes, I’ll be there. What time?”

It’s almost comical how quickly she changes her tone, brightening up like she hadn’t just flipped her lid on you.

“Come round for six, I’m cooking a roast.”

“Wonderful, see you then.”

You remove the phone from your ear and as you’re hovering over the End Call icon you hear it:

“I love you, darling.”

You hang up quickly, not wanting to say it back, but you hope you can play it off as having hung up just as you heard her. You drop your phone onto the bed, not bothering to look at the message that comes through, nor the next. You’re already emotionally spent as it is. Your thoughts drift to Dave and you realize you need to let him know you’re coming. You know for sure Nancy won’t tell him.

~*~

Dave bolts wide awake, the sounds of Panama City’s nightlife weaving through the humid air. He looks down at his cock as it tents his sweatpants, and he groans. He frees his throbbing length and slowly jerks himself off. Trying so hard to just reach climax but like every other time, something holds him back.

He’s covered in sweat and panting profusely by the time he finally gives up. His dick leaking and sore as he lets it flop against his bare abs. He can’t stop thinking about you, and it is making him distracted. In his line of work, it could get him killed. But he’s worried about you, worried that he’s hurt you and jeopardized any chances of something ever happening between you two. He just needs to know you’re ok, safe, happy.

He pulls out his phone and opens your contact, no photo, just your number and the contact's name: Princess🌙.

He sighs, locking his phone before tossing it on the nightstand. You told him not to contact you, so that’s what he’s doing.

He rolls out of bed and pads into the shitty hotel bathroom to turn on the faucet. He can’t even count on a cold shower here, so a lukewarm one will have to do. Eventually he manages to calm down enough to try and sleep. He flops back on the bed, and he crosses his arms over his head as he stares without looking at the impotent ceiling fan as it idly rotates above him. His head throbs and his chest aches as he tries and fails to get some sleep. It’s not the first time this has happened.

Every time he dreams about you, which is painfully often, he wakes up with a raging hard-on and a guilty conscience.

It’s been almost four weeks since he last saw you fleeing from his home. Fleeing from him. He can’t get you out of his head. He’s plagued by the grilling Nancy gave him after she got the photos back from Resnik, or Philip, as she knows him.

“What did you do to her, Dave?”

Nancy had cornered him on the Wednesday following your departure. He was still dazed from the concussion and fumbled through excuses.

“I didn’t do anything, Nancy. She was upset, I tried to make her stay. Have you talked to her?”

Nancy paused, shock on her face at the question. Clearly the answer was no.

“Did you touch her? Force yourself on her? Is that why she left?”

“Jesus Christ, Nancy, no! Of course not!”

“Then what was she yelling at you about huh?”

“She told me not to call her, to leave her alone, that she needed space!”

Dave hadn’t even tried to keep his temper in check. His head still burned from the concussion, his mood sour from the mission he had just been assigned. He just wanted to come home, have a beer and go to bed. Not this shit.

“And why does she need that, huh?” Nancy was up in his space again, just like that night when she struck him. Dave could feel the rage simmering under the surface as the smell of rosé invaded his senses.

“I don’t know, Nancy, maybe because she heard you hanging our prenup over my head? She is a lawyer; she knows how serious of a threat that is. But maybe, just maybe, it’s because you forgot her birthday, because you rushed off to spend time with Danielle on her birthday weekend. Maybe because every time you’ve addressed her since she’s been home it’s like you’ve been speaking to a child. She’s thirty years old, Nancy, she deserves some goddamned respect. Or could it be that she had to drag me, bleeding and unconscious, to the hospital after you hit me? Maybe she just needed to be away from this broken fucking home.”

It all came out in a surge of bitter hatred, so unlike him, so unlike the man he wants to be. But everyone has their breaking point.

“How dare you?” Nancy spits and Dave stands his ground as she tries to square up with him.

“She covered for you that day, she took me to the hospital and lied for you.”

That shuts Nancy up, her eyes wide as she takes a step back.

“Yeah, she made up a fake cat, said I fell down the stairs tripping over it.”

“She’s a good daughter, of course she’d defend me,” Nancy mumbles but Dave’s heard enough. He’s already walking away, heading down into the one room in his house that still feels like his own. Not another beige, soulless room. Nancy calls something after him as he goes but he’s just not paying any attention to her anymore.

He locks the bedroom door behind him, the cramped space is practically the only place he sleeps now, sleeping beside Nancy was out of the question. Hell, she might even try to smother him in his sleep if he did.

He opens his safe, checking the temperature controls are correct as he makes sure the candlestick is still there. Wrapped up in a sandwich bag and kept at the right temperature. The first thing he had done before stumbling into your arms was secure the evidence. Later he made a copy of the security camera footage, which sits in another safe in the garage. He wasn’t going to take any chances with this.

The moment Nancy comes for him – legally speaking – as he knows she will, he’ll be ready.

The buzz of his phone on the nightstand brings him back to the present as he rolls over and picks up his phone. He’s waiting on a lead for the hit he’s pulling down here, but what he’s greeted with makes his mouth curve up into a fond smile.

Princess🌙: Hey, sorry it’s late, or early? Not sure if you’re home? Mom’s having me over for dinner tomorrow, just wanted to let you know.

Dave groans, he needs to talk to you properly before you see your mom again. To his luck another text comes through, details of an address two streets over followed by a message from Ari.

A: Target is enroute to airport, will be at location in twenty minutes. We Green?

Dave texts back “Green” as he springs out of bed, throwing on his clothes as he snatches up his go bag. Before he leaves the room, he texts you back.

Duke🎷: I’ll be touching down in Houston in a few hours, can we talk then?

To his surprise you start to text back straight away, but he doesn’t look, stowing his phone as he storms out of his dingy hotel. He fastens the silencer to the end of his pistol and pulls on his lucky black beanie. He has a job to do.

~*~

You’re getting dressed for dinner when Dave’s call comes through. You’d agreed to talk beforehand and as much as you had been anticipating it, you feel nerves jostling around in your chest.

“Hey,” you say, your voice breathy and full of unwelcome unease as you try – and fail – to keep your cool.

“Thanks for reaching out, I appreciate it,” Dave says with a softness to his voice you’ve only ever heard a handful of times before. It’s calming and scintillating all at the same time. You want to feel his breath on your skin as he talks to you like this. You shake yourself mentally as you focus on the reason you agreed to talk.

“Thought we should be on the same page for tonight,” you say with a shrug, even if you know he can’t see you.

“So,” Dave takes a deep exhale on the other end of the line, and you hold your breath waiting for what comes next, “I told your mom that you left because you needed space.”

“I mean, that’s pretty much it.”

“Yeah,” Dave chuckles low over the line and you find yourself smiling despite yourself, “She asked if I touched you.”

“Fuck,” you wheeze down the phone as you look at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your makeup for the millionth time tonight, “You denied it, right?”

You almost laugh, finally seeing the angle your mom has been trying to play the whole time. She knows that if you so much as confess that Dave harmed you, prenup or not, he’ll be screwed if she files for divorce. You never thought she was looking out for you; you just assumed it was some weird jealousy thing. But now you see it clear as day.

“Of course, and the way she framed it, it didn’t come across like she was asking me to admit anything shy of me outright assaulting you.”

You actually laugh now. Humorless and bitter as you try not to think about your mother’s previous partners. About how they could flirt and eye-fuck you, how they would linger a little too long in their hugs and kisses. As long as Nancy never caught them doing it outright. As long as it was never obvious enough to bring out her jealous streak.

Where was this probing inquisition then?

“I’m not surprised, but I have your back Dave, always.”

“Hey?”

“What?”

“I didn’t do that, right? I didn’t force myself on you?”

You take a moment to reflect, searching your feelings before you speak.

“Never,” you say in a hushed whisper as you feel a tension easing in your chest, “I never felt that way with you Dave, not for a second.”

“Not even when I fucked you on stream? Threatened you with outing you to your mom?”

You pause at that, really considering the scenario in your head before answering.

“It wasn’t an ideal way to start things, but you were playing to the scene,” you sigh, “But no, you didn’t take advantage of me Dave. I knew what I was doing, and I keep private recordings of all my streams, for posterity and for when I need to plug content. If I wanted to fuck you over, I could have.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

“If you had made me do anything I didn’t want, you’d be fucked Dave. Fucked so hard.”

There’s a pause before Dave laughs aloud on the other end of the line and you can’t help but smile at his reaction. You’ve missed that sound. Missed him.

“You’re a fucking clever woman and I’m glad you’re looking after yourself.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. You want to take the praise, take the win, but there’s an unease to it all. You’ve only learned to protect yourself because you’d done it all on instinct. You know that no-one else will look out for you if things go wrong.

“It’s all I know,” you say as you take a deep breath, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes, “But I need to finish getting ready.”

“Of course, I won’t keep you.”

You almost hang up then and there, sever the connection before it has chance to take root once more. But there’s something you can’t continue to ignore.

“Thanks for giving me space, Dave. It meant the world to me.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Yeah, ok. See you soon?” you say, hesitation making you linger on the line, you don’t want to stop talking to him, not after so long with no contact.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

The call drops and you feel a hollowness to your bones. Like hearing Dave’s voice after so long had ripped open a half-healed wound. Your fingertips burn and your chest heaves as you set your phone down on the bed. You look at yourself in the mirror and try to hype yourself up a little.

You’re in a loose sweater and jeans, low heeled boots, nothing fancy. You just want to get through the night with as little drama as possible. Turning up in anything but something comfy would only set your mother off, you just know it.

“You ready to go?”

Ash asks as she leans against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest as she looks at you. You know she wants to say something, disapproval written all over her face.

“Yeah, let me just get my purse,” you respond, stowing your phone and slinging your bag over your shoulder. You check that you’ve got your key to the apartment and your wallet before nodding feebly to Ash.

~*~

Dave jumps up from the sofa as he hears the doorbell, his heart thundering in his chest as he hears Nancy open the door. He stops himself at the bottom of the basement stairs when he hears a masculine voice in place of your own.

“Hey there, Nance,” Dave bristles at the nickname, Nancy never lets him call her anything but her given name. Something about the stranger at his door immediately has him on edge. He heads back into his office to check the porch camera.

A mousey looking man, maybe ten years his senior stands at the front door, wringing his hands before stepping in to hug Nancy just out of frame. He immediately checks the rest of the security cameras are working as expected, tracking Nancy and the mystery man into the kitchen before making sure the feed is being recorded and backed up to the cloud.

“Oh Andy, you know I hate that nickname,” Nancy giggles and Dave almost scoffs at the playful flirtatious tone.

“And you know I hate Andy just as much. Kiddo here yet?”

“No, she’s due any minute. Dave, stop sulking and help us lay the table,” Nancy hollers down the hall.

Dave rolls his eyes and does as he’s told, even if he already feels like something is amiss. He doesn’t like surprises and he pulls out his phone. He tries to call you, but it goes straight to voicemail. He types out a quick text.

Duke 🎷: Some guy called Andy’s here. Just wanted you to know.

The doorbell rings a second time just as he hits send. His stomach drops when he hears Nancy ask Andy to answer the door. He’s taking the stairs two at a time in an attempt to cut him off, but he knows he’s too late as he hears the door open.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Andy’s voice is softer when speaking to you, more familiar.

Then Dave hears it, a word that takes his breath away like he’s been winded.

“Dad?”

~*~

The whole ride to Dave’s house had been filled with tense silence, your stomach doing flips as you tried to mentally prepare yourself. But what you hadn’t anticipated was your father being the first person you see. He looks good, short hair a shade lighter, fewer greys and more white hairs streaking through.

“What are you doing here?”

Ash is still parked at the end of the drive, waiting for the signal for her to leave. You turn over your shoulder and you see her peering out of the window to assess the situation.

“Good to see you too, sweetheart,” he chuckles as he tries to pull you into a hug. You step back, throwing your hands up defensively as you shake your head.

“I think I made a mistake, I’m sorry.”

You’re already backing up, mouth dry and heart threatening to burst from your chest when you hear Dave say your name. Your eyes dart up to see him, standing at the top of the stairs to the basement, he’s deathly pale as he lingers there. His dark eyes are wide, filled with horror laced with compassion. A ghost in his own home.

“Shut the damned door, you’re letting the heat out,” your mom huffs as she comes to see what the fuss is all about.

“Oh honey, come on in, you’ll catch your death standing out there like that.”

She pushes your father out of the way, and you feel like your body isn’t your own as she ushers you inside. The hollowness inside you grows, a dark, dank maw threatening to tear you apart as you hear the door shut with a thud behind you.

“What can I get you to drink? Some wine?”

Your mother guides you to the kitchen, practically pushing you into the stool as she heads to the fridge. She pours you a glass of rosé and you take it without thinking. Your ears are filled with a droning buzz, saliva pools in your mouth as you feel panic rising in your throat. You want to scream, to get the fuck out of there. But all you can do is comply.

“Sorry, I need to hit the bathroom,” you mumble as you get up on shaky legs, your wine untouched as you practically run upstairs.

“Dave,” your mother’s voice grates on you as you hear him screech at him, “Where is that man?”

You know where he is, you’re looking at him, leaning back on the wall. Eyes locked with you as he shakes his phone at you. You nod slowly as you ascend the stairs, fishing out your phone as you hurry towards the room you once called your own.

You unlock your phone as you close the door behind you. Three unread messages from Dave.

Duke 🎷: Some guy called Andy’s here. Just wanted you to know.

Duke 🎷: I didn’t know, I’m sorry.

Duke 🎷: Are you ok?

You bring up his contact and hit call. You don’t care about anything else right now, you just need to vent, and texting just won’t cut it. You lock the door and sit down at your desk, logging in by sheer habit as you wait for Dave to pick up. You hear him shout something about a work call to your mom and you allow yourself to smirk. You know she’ll hate that he’s taken a work call in the middle of her all-important dinner.

“This is risky,” you hear Dave growl down the line, but you don’t care about the risk, not right now.

“What the fuck is going on, Dave?”

You hiss down the line as you pull up your browser out of instinct and the homepage is all wrong. You should have saved folders on the bookmarks bar, links to your online banking, your social media links. But it’s all gone.

“I told you I didn’t know,” Dave grunts as you hear him flop down with a sigh, presumably at his desk.

You’re only half-listening to him now, your fingers typing furiously as you bring up an app on your computer. You’d installed it back when you started cam work, a tamper-proof software that tracked logins, provided antivirus protection amongst other things.

“I can drive you home if this is too-,”

“That fucking bitch,” you snap, not listening to Dave anymore as you read through the logs. Over the last four weeks your computer has had over twelve incidents of failed login attempts. Next to every failed attempt there’s an attached image. Every time it’s a picture of your mom, brow pinched, thin lips set in a hard line.

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s been trying to access my computer, Dave.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, too long for it to mean nothing but you’re already taking screenshots and attaching them to emails. You’re documenting everything you can, yet another learned behavior kicking in, protecting yourself from her.

“She’s been snooping in your room a lot lately,” he says, guilt evident in his tone.

“You knew? How?”

“I have motion sensors and security cameras all over the house, my job makes it necessary.”

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“What? No,” it’s Dave’s turn to get defensive, “I only have them on main access points, the kitchen, hallways, the kind of stuff to make sure no-one is intruding without being… Intrusive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was doing this?” You snap, shutting down your computer before turning to look around your room. If she’s been on your computer she must have been snooping around the rest of your space.

“You asked me to not contact you,” Dave reminds you with a sigh, but you’ve already moved on, you’re not really mad at him.

“She’s been through my prop box,” you groan as you pull out the plastic container from under the bed, two of your masks are missing, along with your favorite vibrator.

“How’d you know?”

“My vibe is missing, two masks too.”

Dave hisses down the phone in anger as you hear your mom hollering downstairs and you know you’re on borrowed time already.

“Your mom is calling me.”

“Go, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Hey,” Dave’s tone softens and makes your heart ache, “I’ve got your back tonight, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” you want to say more, but you stop yourself. You don’t need to make tonight any more awkward than it already is. But it’s there, the treacherous thought, the ghost of a word you can’t dare think, let alone say aloud.

The call ends and you gain your composure with a cough and a roll of your shoulders. Your emotions are threatening to spill over, hemorrhaging from the gaping hole in your chest. Anger, betrayal, sorrow, love, loss, despair. They strain like water assaulting a sluicegate after a flood.

But it’s time to face the music, so you stand up, smooth down your sweater, and prepare yourself for whatever hell awaits you downstairs.

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