#other sounds to cover it up and so it make me wide awake again every fucking time as i am feeling sleepy
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fuck sleep
#tiny talking#like is there sowmthing thay actually helps. i havent tried melatonin but i smoke weed so#and most things like nyquill dont even make me drowsy#but like man i thought i got my sleep schedule normal#hut its 2 30 rn and i went to sleep like actually at around 11 i think#and was woken up for bo god dman reason almsot a half hour later and couldnt fall asleep because its hot so i get itchy everywhere#so i have a fan on my but then the hair on my moves so i get itchy and fuck man#im feeling sleepy now and im glad its monday because i dont work till 1 but any other day i wanna be up by 8 if possible#and i would really rather not only have maybe 5 hours of sleep#fucking it doesnt help im sleeping in my grandmas living room and same witb my younger brother ( we have far too many people living here#and the number has actually went down significantly) so when my cousin or his wife or kid comes down fron upstairs to use the bathroom#or someone turns on the fucking kitchen light at midnight whta the fuck#or my little brother comes upstairs to laydown but has chips hes snacking on#or anything reallt it prevent me either from going to sleep and sometines even from staying asleep after i fell asleep#and i have some sort of auditory thing where most sounds fucking slice through my mind. like the crinkle of a chip bag when theres not many#other sounds to cover it up and so it make me wide awake again every fucking time as i am feeling sleepy#or even my brother chuckling at his video. or fucking lofi. lofi fucking is the worst. it makes me anxious and most of them have like the#wrong combination of instruments. like how are you gonna have a soothing gutair and light drums and then boom. snare. like that shit ruins#it and made my brain nore active again like the fucking chip bag. and logi just makes me anxious in general listening to it idk why#there was no point to this but if anyone axtually reads this and has hacks ill take suggestions.#usually around like 2 or 3 am (maybe even 5 or6) then ill feel sleepy and be able to sleep without too too much hassle#but fuck man why cant you do thay at 10 or 11 or even 12. I FIXED MY SLEPE SCHUDEL#I STAYED UP ALL DYA AND NIGHT AND WENT TO SLEEP AT 9#FUCKING STAY THAT WAY PLEASE. it worked for the first maybe 2 days where i would get tired around 10 and be able to fall asleep likeni was#when it was around 2 am. and then it gotnfucked the next day and i was unavle to sleep at 10 or 11 and was tired at 3 am#i dont knownif theres even a way to counteract this expecially since i dont even have an enclosed room to sleep in#so ita not like i can go lay down at 10 with all the lights off and they stay off and no one bothers me or makes any noise and i can just#drift away. (i do have to have a fan going if possible and if not then music but fan is best)#but yeah and just knowing other people are awake in the same room as me prevents me form sleeping too. man you could be so quiet i dont#even know youre there but if you are there and awake im gonna struggle sleeping worse than usual. i dont know why
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safely wrapped ! .°ʚɞ°.
> ✿ Your caring lover bandages you up after a harsh battle - Wanderer & Diluc
> ✿ various genshin characters x gn! reader (no pronouns used) + (established relationships)
> ✿ trigger warnings! - injury, bleeding, angst with comfort, bad grammar, slight mischaracterized Diluc, reader and diluc share a bed, sick reader,
> ✿ notes - finally posting after a decade !! Sorry everyone ^^
--------- Wanderer
After a long day of comissions; fate had decided to torture you. Your body ached and you just wished to be held by your lover and take a nap. But the universe had other plans and decided it was best for a group of treasure hoarders to attack you. Luckily , you managed to hang on by a thread and come back home in one piece.
It was needless to say how frustrated he was at you. How could you recklessly throw yourself at danger without a care in the world? Wanderer immediately dragged you to sit down with a tight grip on your wrist. Sighs and huffs only came from him as he handled your injuries with loving care.
" ...How irritating." he seethed. "can't you at least take someone with you next time? Like your boyfriend maybe?" Wanderer spat sarcastically. "If I was there, this would never of happened." finally, he had sealed the bandage with a tight tug before carefully bringing his lips to your forehead.
"you would've complained and whined at me the whole time." you protested; leaning onto him. "so what? I have every right to complain." he stuck his tongue out at you before redting his head on yours.
--------- Diluc (and his maids)
Rain did not help your situation whatsover as you stumbled your way back home with a injured leg. The cold water making you shiver as it splattered onto your bare skin would surely make you sick the next day. Your only request was a hug from your beloved; sadly, you knew he had left Dawn Winery for work and wouldn't be back by late night.
You're so thankful for the maids. They spotted you through the window and quickly rushed outside to help you get dry and cleaned up. A little while later you heard the familiar sound of footsteps and the door shutting quietly. You waited patiently in bed, tucked warmly under the covers.
Diluc, of course, expected you to already be fast asleep and snoring peacefully. He was suprised to find his significant others wide eyes staring at him, "Why are you still awake, love ? You should be sleeping." he had already gotten into bed with you, the matress dipping under his weight. "I couldn't sleep without you, sorry." you replied and he nodded at your response.
When he wrapped his arms around you, a pain shot through you when he bumped your leg. "Ow!" you winced. immediately Diluc scooted away, "what's the matter?" he muttered whilst placing a hand against your forehead, "you're burning up. Were you out in the rain?"
"...maybe." you lowered your voice, before rolling onto your back again. Diluc looked down at your injured thigh, and the tight bandage wrapped around it. He pressed his lips into a thin line, "why didn't you tell me?" his eyes shifted back to your face.
"I didn't want to be a bother..." you hid under the blanket in embarrassment, "Your never a bother, love. Please, don't go off on your own." Diluc, again, wrapped his arms around your shoulders, this time much more gentle.
#genshin impact#fanfiction#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x male reader#x reader#genshin impact x female reader#wanderer fluff#wanderer x reader#wanderer x female reader#wanderer x male reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin impact x gender neutral reader#wanderer x gender neutral reader#diluc x reader#diluc x fem!reader#diluc x male reader#diluc x gn reader#diluc x gender neutral reader#diluc fluff#diluc angst#wanderer angst
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male! yandere tentacle monster x fem! reader
warnings: nsfw content, non-consensual sex, obsessive behavior, yandere themes, stalking
The switch up between “it” “he” “they” might get confusing while reading but pls don’t be confused it doesn’t make much of a difference, it’s all the same. It switches a lot just to isolate what the tentacles do. The monster is referred to as “he”.
Further in the the shadows squelching sounds echo in the quiet room, the source unknown until they emerge, long and thick tentacles slowly slithering out of the shadows towards your bed unbeknownst to your peaceful sleeping form, they climb up the side of your bed moving closer and reaching for your figure, stilling as you stir in your sleep for a few more seconds before moving again.
The tentacle slowly leans towards your cheek, trembling slightly at the contact then moving down to your neck and dragging down your chest towards the blanket, gripping it and slowly dragging it down your body revealing the crop top and shorts you sleep in, it drags the blanket off leaving no part of you covered, dragging across the sheets up your leg and to your thighs caressing them, two other tentacles emerge from your left and right, trailing over your chest and gently brushing your hardening nipples through the fabric.
You groan squirming slightly in your sleep, another tentacles slides up your thigh caressing your inner thigh before moving to your center, rubbing your cunt through your shorts making a wet spot slowly form on them, it moves your shorts to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. A low satisfied growl echoing in your ear makes you frown in your sleep and stir even more, the tentacles slowly rubs your folds before sliding between them rubbing up and down your slit, the sound of your wetness overlapping with the ones of the tentacles sliding all over your body. You let out a quiet moan in your sleep “Wake up sweetheart..” You slowly start to stir awake at the deep voice echoing in your head. You look around to find the source of the voice even when sleep still clings on your eyelids. Your eyes are wide open and a gasp is caught in your throat when you take notice of the strange sensations all over your body, specifically the rubbing between your legs.
Long tentacles sliding all over your limbs, caressing, rubbing, squeezing, each one traveling further up your body almost getting caught up and tangled with each other. You felt like you were about to be consumed by them. Swallowed up and never let out. You let out a scream as you tug and pull your limbs away desperately trying to get out of their hold. you almost succeed in bolting out of your bed when you're yanked back by a new set of tentacles that seemed to emerge out of no where wrapping around your ankles, your hands being gripped tightly next and lifted above your head.
A cry escapes your throat and you continue flailing your limbs, shaking your head violently as tears stream down your face “Shh there’s no need to be scared.” The voice echoes in your head. Not beside you. Above you. No where. It feels like its coming from inside you. You turn your head in every direction searching for the source of the voice but the room is empty aside from all the tentacles that are menacingly crawling towards your bed “What the fuck are you- let me go!” Tears stream down your face and a tendril enters your line of sight to wipe your tears away, softly stroking your cheek “Don’t cry..why are you so frightened, little one? I'm not going to hurt you.” You turn you head again “Where are you?!” The voice doesn’t seem to be coming from a specific direction instead from the inside of your mind, it feels like you're going insane “I’m here with you of course. if it's my voice that's confusing you it is inside your mind. It will always be inside your mind. Always with you."
You let out a surprised gasp as the tentacles returned to rubbing your cunt. You instinctively try to close your legs but they're pried apart again and you feel the tentacles tighten even more around your thighs to keep you still “You’re putting up quite the fight but your sweet cunt is still dripping for me.” He applies more pressure on your clit drawing out a moan from you “What..are you?” You pant out, fear lacing your tone “I’m exactly what you need.” You feel tendrils sliding up your leg to the waistband of you shorts, sliding them down then moving down to spread your legs wider “What you want..” Your shirt is lifted over your head “What you dream of” Two tendrils travel up your stomach to your breasts wrapping around and squeezing your nipples. Your back arches as you feel your self get overwhelmed from being touched in so many places “And you..” He drawls out “Are mine.” He growls, the tentacle that was rubbing your clit now moves lower to tease your your hole “I’ve been watching you in the dark for a long time, pet. I’ve refrained from touching you all this time but no more.” It continues teasing, rubbing tantalizing circles “Stop-” Your protest is cut short when you feel the tip being pushed in “I can make you feel so good, little one. I will. Tell me you that you want me to make you feel good and I will. I’ll make you feel what you haven’t before, I’ll reach all those places no one can” He pushes the tip in then pulls out slowly over and over again until you almost push your hips to chase the pleasure. Almost.
Lust clouds your mind and you feel yourself slowly leaning into temptation, your previous repulsion now replaced with desire. You're already getting desperate, the pleasure all over your body overwhelming but not enough.
You need more.
You felt a wave of shame wash over you, you wanted to know what it would feel like to give in to him. Whatever he is exactly. You aren't completely sure. You swallow and close your eyes “I..I want you to make me feel good.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but your face flushes at the verbal confession. The tentacle starts to slowly moves deeper inside you. Your breathing stops as you focus on the new sensation. It stops suddenly and draws out. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. A frustrated whine escapes you “Do you want more? hm?” You nod quickly and hear a dark chuckle echo out “Of course I’ll give you more, anything for my little pet.” It pulls out one more time before plunging into your wet cunt drawing out a loud moan from you, it was thick and so fucking long, it was already going in so deep but it was still going like it wasn't planning on stopping “You clench around me so tightly. I knew your pretty little cunt would take me in so well.” You let out a string of moans, you feel your cunt being stretched out and with the tendrils groping your breasts, squeezing your hardened nipples and every single part of you body touched you already feel close, you jump and look down to see another tentacle moving down your stomach to your clit rubbing it before you feel suctioning on your clit “Ah! fuck- no..” It sucks harder “No?” You let out a sob “Too sensitive..” It rubs up and down your clit, each sucker pulling and letting it go with a pop each time the tentacle moves “But you want to cum don’t you?” You mumble incoherently as you nod “Then you can take it, pet. you can take me.” You nod again “That’s it..take it. Such a good pet. I'm never letting go of you.” The air gets knocked out of your lungs as you feel the tentacle reach the deepest part of you, you grind your hips helplessly as you feel yourself getting closer "You're getting close pet..I can feel it." The tentacles start moving in a speed that has you near sobbing and with your tits being groped an the sensation on your clit you're pushed over the edge cumming with your body writhing and your screams almost drowning out his own moans and growls of approval.
The fog in your brain doesn't fully clear even when the tentacles slow down and eventually come to a stop, even in your exhausted state you register the gentle caressing on your cheek "I'm never letting you go little one. You're all mine now."
#fem reader#male yandere monster#yandere oc#obsessive yandere#yandere tentacle monster#tentacle monster x reader#yandere tentacle monster x reader#yandere monster#monster oc#monster x reader#yandere#yandere fanfiction#tentacle monster
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(It was supposed to be 4+1 extra for slow down but instead, it's a bit more chaotic 'Ice checking on Bradley during the night' standalone ficlet)
It starts like this — Carole passes away, Bradley already lives with them, so not much changes, but there's a period when CPS gets a bit too involved and he's taken away from them (from Mav only, technically, since Ice is a secret they're keeping hush-hush) and when he is given back to them, finally comes back to them, there's a month Bradley sleeps with them in their bedroom. Both because he's having nightmares every other night and this way they can make sure he wakes them up when they happen, and because Mav is paranoid and can't fall asleep if Bradley isn't in his range of sight. He understands the sentiment — it does feel like he's going to be taken away from them any time they aren't looking.
Bradley does eventually go back to his own room — he's almost a teenager, it's inevitable — and Mav does eventually start sleeping through the night.
But Ice is a light sleeper and an insomniac.
He wakes up one night, well past midnight and thinks he's heard something. He doesn't wake up Mav, just stands up as quietly as he can, and goes down the corridor, until he steps into their living room and under the dim light from the street lamp, curled up on their couch, Bradley is sitting with Tom's old Flight Manual on his lap.
He closes it, caught red-handed, as soon as he notices Tom.
"Buddy, you've got school," he says softly.
"I can't sleep."
"You still gotta try," he says because kids need sleep. "Come on, I'll tuck you in."
He doesn't even protest when Tom kisses his forehead, like he's been lately.
Ice goes back to their bedroom but he's still tossing and turning, something nagging him, pulling at the back of his head and at the heart inside his chest.
He gets up and Bradley isn't in the living room or the kitchen but he can hear the ruffling of the sheets through the door to his room.
When he peeks his head inside, Bradley turns towards him, the big doe eyes wide awake but crinkling as he tries to pop the covers more over himself, like he can hide away from him.
"Still can't sleep?"
Bradley shakes his head.
"Me neither," he confesses. Then, because Bradley looks—he just looks so sad and so tired and he doesn't want to leave him alone in the dark, just with his dino night lamp in the socket glowing green. "You mind if I lie down with you?"
*
He promises himself he'll stop once Bradley's nightmares disappear but he never does. Not when Bradley starts middle school, not when he graduates middle school, not when he's studying for his SAT, not when he's going to prom.
*
When Bradley leaves for college storms away, screaming he hates them and he never wants to see them again he can't kick the habit down either.
“He’ll come back, there’s still four weeks before he’s supposed to check into his dorms, he—” he tries to be logical about it, tries not to panic, tries to keep his head cool. He reasons, begs for it to be true. “He has nowhere else to go.”
“Yeah, he has nowhere else to go, Ice,” Mav says and he sounds terrified. “Nowhere.”
Bradley's always had Mav's stubbornness and Mav knows better than anyone that Bradley isn't going to relent no matter how hard it gets for him.
That night, he wakes up and Mav isn't in their bed.
When he gets up to check on him, he doesn't find him in the kitchen or in the living room, or even in their laundry room, trying to fill the sleepless night with forgotten chores.
Last place Tom checks is Bradley's bedroom, hope blooming in his chest as he reaches the doorknob.
Mav is asleep, his nose diving into Bradley's pillows, Bradley's pyjama top curled into a ball under his arm.
Tom steps into the room and crawls in next to him.
*
Bradley doesn't come back.
*
Ice never allows himself to venture into Bradley's room, not to do more than dust the place, and never actually sleeps in there without Mav. Not when Mav gets deployed, not when Mav is stationed in Nevada or Hawaii, not when it gets so lonely and the texts remain unanswered, calls are ignored, not when he spends sleepless nights on the couch downstairs, thinking about how he could turn back time and fix everything so they could still have their kid.
Not even when they moved into a bigger house, Bradley's room packed and unpacked at the new address, hoping he'd return there at some point — maybe after college, maybe after he gets his wings, maybe just, one day.
The only time he slips in there in the evening is the night he notices a blue Bronco in front of their house and sees it drive away as soon as he opens the door and then doesn't get a reply to his text.
He's at the end of his chemo plan and Mav's been trying to get Bradley to come down and talk to him, just in case, just for the support, and Bradley's seemingly ignoring it all.
But he was there. He could recognize the car anywhere.
He wakes up around midnight and his tired mind tells him Bradley might have come back and he walks down the hall and opens the door and—
And the room is untouched, a bit dusty, and there are no sheets, just the bare mattress and the sausage dog pillow Mav bought Bradley when he kept on insisting he wanted a dog when he was sixteen, and Tom lies down and hugs the pillow and tries to fall asleep, trembles through the cold air in the room, waking up from time to time.
*
The first time Bradley stays over after the mission, in his own room, untouched in almost fifteen years, Ice wakes up at two in the morning, feeling like the whole day — Bradley ringing the doorbell, Bradley helping Mav cook, Bradley eating dinner with them, Bradley grabbing clean bedsheets from Ice's hands, Bradley hugging them goodnight — was a figment of his imagination and he'll come downstairs to have breakfast and Bradley will still be on the other side of the States and not even answering their texts.
He shouldn't have — Bradley is an adult now, he needs privacy and Tom doesn't want to scare him away by not giving him what he needs once again — but he can't stop thinking the reality is going to betray him in the morning.
He walks down the hall, the automatic light turning on as he goes further, until he stands in front of Bradley's door.
He opens it just a smidge, so he can have a look, but the light is so bright in the corridor, and Bradley's sleepy face grimaces at him before he lifts his head up.
"You okay?" he asks Tom, as if he was the parent here.
Tom should leave, but he can't. He just stands there, looking at Bradley's sleepy face and squinted eyes and can't stop.
Bradley raises an eyebrow, falls down back on his pillow, and pats the space in front of him, covers ruffling.
Ice steps in and his hand reaches Bradley's face as soon as he's sat down, gets the curls off his forehead and then caresses his cheek, so much more coarse than he remembers, the unshaved skin tickling his fingers.
Bradley pushes his cheek closer into his palm and he's almost purring under Tom's affection.
"You can sleep here if you want to, Pops," he murmurs, eyes closed, hair out of place, curls falling on his forehead again. "'m sure Mav won't be too jealous."
Pops. He still can't believe he's getting called that again.
He crawls in, feeling his knees protest, and tucks Bradley — into his arms and under the covers.
*
Bradley moves in with them, a bit reluctantly, but he does — military housing is and always will be crappy, he's been moving from place to place so he has two suitcases and a keepsake box to his soul, and they're still trying to rebuild their family — and that's enough to give Tom a second life.
Tom still wakes up at night, still feels the panic that he'll go back to sleep and in the morning, Bradley won't be there, so instead of tossing and turning, he gets up and just goes to have a look anytime he needs.
Because he can do that now, again. He can walk down the hall and take a peek and maybe even have a chat with Bradley if he's awake and just look his fill until he calms down.
It's one of those nights — he wakes up and even Mav's soft breathes can't lull him back to sleep so he gently untangles himself from their bed and walks down the hall, opens the door to Bradley's bedroom.
Bradley is so used to it by now he doesn't even stir up at the light from the corridor. Instead, Tom hears a, "Huh?" in an unfamiliar voice and Jake 'Hangman' Seresin's head pops up from behind Bradley's shoulder.
He shuffles, blinking at Tom and the bright light, like he's confused about what he's seeing, and Tom notices his arm peeking out of the covers, wounding back around Bradley but this time on top of the duvet.
Tom backs out and closes the door behind himself.
"Jake Seresin is in Bradley's room," he says dumbly once he sits down back in bed.
Mav turns around to him, blinking at their night table light, and pulling the covers back over Tom's legs, scooping him to get back to the cuddling they had going on
Sleepily, he looks at Tom like he lost his mind and asks, "What time is it?"
"Mav," he repeats. "Jake Seresin is in Bradley's bed."
"They're thirty, dear." Mav doesn't even open his eyes. "You can't exactly be outraged about... you know."
"He sneaked in," he points out. "Into our son's room, under our roof."
"Pretty sure he just used the front door when you were asleep," he says, pulling on Tom's arm so he lies down. "Be glad you didn't walk into anything."
"Mav."
"Baby," Mav says, and his eyes are only half-open but he tries to hold his gaze as he leans back from where his chin rests on Tom's arm. "I know it feels like he's still seventeen but he's not. He's—He's all grown, okay?"
"He's still our kid."
"He is," Mav agrees softly, voice moussed with sleep. "Which means you can give Seresin your famous icy glare in the morning. Now, though, just go back to sleep. He'll still be there in the morning."
He'll be, Tom knows, but for how long? They've barely managed to talk him into moving in with them and even that was stretching the social norms a bit — most kids don't live their parents once they finish college, after all — but Tom didn't want him to go anywhere.
"Do you think they could move in here?"
Mav only gives him a confused, "Hmm?"
"When they get married, do you think they could live with us?"
There's enough space, the house is huge, and it's certainly better than any military housing they could get. Maybe they could stay at least for a bit, save up for a mortgage downpayment, or maybe just hold onto this place until they stop being regularly deployed.
Mav lifts his head, one eye open, giving him the look. "You already plannin' their wedding?"
"I don't mean Seresin specifically, just whoever Bradley marries," he explains. He's not sure he likes the idea of Seresin, the I'm-better-than-you-lone-wolf as Bradley's anything. "Do you think we could talk him into staying even when he gets married?"
"I dunno," Mav says, nuzzling into his shoulder again. "The housing market is shit so maybe? Probably would be easier for him, too, if he decides to have kids."
"Kids," Tom repeats numbly. "We could—We could watch them when we retired, right?"
Bradley's been seventeen in his mind for so long he didn't even let himself think about Bradley having kids of his own.
"Baby," Mav says. "He's not going to have kids overnight, not with Seresin anyway. Just go back to sleep, please."
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promises
pairing: reader x namjoon
summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…
genre: angst
content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex
soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé
a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure).
word count: 18k
Pray you catch me
♪ you can taste the dishonesty/ it's all over your breath, as you pass it off so cavalier. but even that's a test/constantly aware of it all/my lonely ear/pressed against the walls of your world. ♪
. . .
Something is wrong.
You don’t know how or when things changed, but something shifted between the two of you. There is a distance now, more tangible than the miles that separate you from him when he’s on business trips. Farther than the long-distance phone calls that became less and less frequent. Even now, as you lay in the same bed with him only a few feet away you can tell.
Something is wrong.
Because you can’t remember a time when you and Namjoon had ever been so far apart.
He would always come home late at night. Languid footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. Eyes tired and red from too many hours spent awake working on the newest album. Gravity pulled him down in a slump that could only be from the heaviness of leadership, from carrying the weight of the entire group.
And though he was exhausted, he would still find a way to come and take care of you. Even dead-tired, his warm brown eyes would light up and his lips would curl at the sight of you. He’d make his way over and pull you close, until your bodies became an entangled mess of arms and legs, chests pressed together as you curled into each other's warmth. His fingers would run soothingly through your hair and he’d ask you how your day went. The moments you spent within his arms seemed to make even the bad days good.
But it's been a long time since your husband held you close and melted away your bad days.
The clock on your nightstand reads 1:23 AM in angry red letters when his phone goes off in the middle of the night. You can hear the sheets rustle and feel whatever is left of his presence slip away as he sits up, answering on the second ring. “Hello?” Before you can even stop yourself the words are flying out of your mouth. “Who is it?”
The woman who speaks sounds nothing like you. Her voice is broken and fragile, spiked with worry and fear. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes because, “It’s just Yoongi.” The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You are already hurting and the way he brushes you off tears right through you.
It’s not Yoongi. You know better. Your husband’s best friend loves his sleep and would never stir in the middle of the night. You want to confront him, put all your thoughts out in the open but before you can even gather the courage, he stands up, makes his way across the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone.
Again.
Somehow you can’t decide what’s more unsettling: the loneliness you feel when your husband leaves or the loneliness you feel when he’s around.
You are too unnerved to go back to sleep. Not that you are sleeping anyways. Now that you are truly awake to the situation before you, sleep does not come. You’ve been staying up for days, eyes wide open. But it was more than just insomnia. Your mind is awake with all the possibilities, visualizing every single scenario. You can’t close your eyes because in an instant you are there. Thinking about it all over again. You can't ignore it, nor pretend not to see it. You are not blind anymore. And so sleep does not come.
With every nerve on edge you throw back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You can’t just lay there trapped within your own mind. You need a distraction—any distraction from the truth. Even if the only release you can find is putting your body into motion. You find yourself pacing back and forth, frazzled energy bouncing from one point to another.
Until you hear him laugh. It’s a deep and throaty noise that breaks through the walls and interrupts your racing thoughts. You find yourself tiptoeing closer to the sound, trying to be as quiet as you possibly can so you can creep up and press your ear up against the door to listen. How desperate you are, eavesdropping like this. You feel ashamed for sinking this low, but that shame does not stop you from wondering if you should get the glass from your nightstand so you can hear him better. If you could only hear what he was saying! But the words are muffled, like he’s talking underwater.
He used to talk to you all the time, share his innermost thoughts, his nightmares, his dreams. Talk to you about everything and nothing. Work and play. Past and present. But now, nothing.
Now all you got were glimpses of his world.
You used to be his world.
The realization leaves you cold and you press yourself closer to the light trickling through the cracked door. You can see him now. His back is turned towards you and he’s hunched over, phone clutched to his ear like he’s trying to keep all his secrets from spilling out of it. In that moment, you pray he will turn around so you can read his lips and decode whatever it is he’s whispering huskily into the receiver. You pray he will turn around and catch you. You wonder what he will do. Will he jump? Will he be angry?
Ironically, out of all the times you’ve prayed for God to answer you during your marriage, this is the prayer God answers because it happens. He turns around.
You expect to see the face of a cruel man. You could not have prepared yourself for what you do see. Because when he finally turns around, it’s not the face of a monster, but the face of your first love. Namjoon is smiling. Smiling. This is the moment your heart breaks. When was the last time he smiled at you like that? Pink lips pulled back, pearly whites gleaming. Dimples flashing in his cheeks. The way his eyes squint into tiny crescent moons.
When was the last time he smiled at you like that? You can’t remember. Your mind flickers through the memories filed in your head, though each image never seems to be quite right. Maybe because they are now clouded with suspicion. Was that last smile real? Or merely a mask?
The fact that you can’t be sure made you anxious. You can’t tell the difference because you didn’t know him anymore. Where was the man you loved? This person you do not recognize. His eyes are dark, lit with the desire you once thought was only reserved for you. You watch as his lips curl from a smile into a wicked grin.
Something is wrong.
You tried to fix it. The problem. You. It had you be you, didn’t it? Maybe he wanted someone more gentle. You tried to be meek, mild, and kind. Soft spoken, as you were always previously so assertive. You didn’t want to chase him off with harsh words or accusations. You wanted to be what he wanted. You thought that maybe he wanted someone sexy, so you tried to be that too. You made your eyes smokey and put on red dresses, even though you hated the color red. You wanted to be enough. You tried everything to get his attention, but it made no difference. You still ended up in this exact moment.
A sigh slips past your lips, almost a whimper. It’s the sound of loss.
This is when he sees you.
His smile disappears. Then he walks forward and closes the door in your face, shutting out the light and leaving you in darkness.
. . .
When he comes back to bed—wearing a scent that is distinctly not yours—it’s 5AM. He kisses your forehead and climbs underneath the sheets, yet the distance between you remains. Maybe you already know the answer to the questions that keep swirling in your mind. You don't want to believe that he broke his vows. But that hope does not stop the doubt you feel every time you look at his face.
Are you cheating on me?
Don’t Hurt Yourself
♪ I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful man I’m the lion Beautiful man I know you’re lying…. ♪
. . .
It is quiet in your house. The sun and it’s warm amber glow have long since disappeared, fading into black. The stillness is unusual. Normally you hate such things, always needing some sort of noise playing in the background like the tv or the radio while you clean up and do work, but not today. You need the silence so you can collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for what you are about to do.
You are done being passive. Sick and tired of sitting and waiting around for a man who did not so much as blink an eye at you. You are done crying. You already cried so much. All your tears have dried up and gone away. You can’t bring yourself to be sad anymore. There isn’t any room for you to hold inside two emotions. Especially when all you can feel now is anger.
You are mad as hell.
So you came home from work and sat down on the couch, waiting on him for one last time. Head held high, poised and collected. Muscles coiled and ready to pounce.
Just like clockwork, keys slide into the door and Namjoon comes in at a quarter to three, completely unaware of the situation he just stepped into. Looking up he stops, surprised to find you sitting in the living room. He can feel something is off. Sense it in your body language, see the difference in your eyes. For a minute, he wonders if you know what he’s been doing all night long...but that’s impossible right? How could you possibly know?
But you did know.
You watched nonchalantly as he flashed a casual grin your way. “Hey babe...what are you doing up so late?“ You didn’t respond right away, taking the time to examine him closely before you decide to speak.
“Where were you tonight?”
The second the words leave your mouth there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Thick silence fills the space between you, but your eyes never leave him. You see him blink, catch the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows down a gulp, note a flicker of emotion pass in his face too brief to figure out the expression. Was that fear? Was he nervous?
But then he laughs. It’s almost a scoff as his eyebrows pull together he shakes his head in what masks as confusion. “What?”
“I know you heard me Namjoon, I’m not going to ask you again.”
“What are you talking about? I was with the guys tonight, we—”
“Don’t,” you stop him, holding up a hand. ”Don’t do that. Don’t lie to my face. I am so tired of you lying to me, please for once just be honest.”
He doesn’t say a word, only sighs and runs his fingers through silver locks and as unsatisfactory as it is, you realize this action is the closest you’ll ever get to a confession. But it’s not enough. Your hands come up to rest on your face almost like prayer before you ask your next question.
“Did you sleep with her?”
“God (Y/N), are we really doing this right now?”
Anger presses up against your chest and before you know it, you’re on your feet. “Yes, Namjoon, we are really doing this right now. Because I can’t stand one more minute of this fake marriage. I’m not stupid. I see you! And I’m not going to pretend like I don’t anymore.”
“Fine. Fine! What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want?”
“I want the truth!”
He fixes his gaze, eyes locked on you. “Oh, you want the truth? Ok here’s the truth. Yes, I was with her tonight, and yes I fucked her, and it was the best goddamn fuck I’ve had in months. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”
His words hit you like a bullet to the heart. No, you weren’t happy. You wanted his candor but not this. His tone...the way he was talking to you...You almost couldn’t believe it. How could he? The man you called your husband would never so much as raise his voice towards you. Yet here he was, spitting out cruelty. The brutality of his words mixed with his contempt was too much. Your nails dug into the couch as you tried to steady yourself, tried to push through the pain.
Your mind was swimming with information, trying to come to terms with the new knowledge but one question still lingered. You had to ask:
“Why?”
“Fuck, why? I’m on tour all the time, It’s not like you’re around?”
Are you kidding me?
Whatever pain you felt quickly turned to anger and you whipped around to face him.
“Who the fuck do you think I am Namjoon?! You didn’t marry one of your little groupies. I have a job and a life! I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world like some love-sick puppy!”
“Yeah well, maybe if you did I wouldn’t have needed to find someone else.”
The nerve of this man!
“So you want my entire world to revolve around you? You are so selfish! As if I don’t already do everything for you. I cook, when you come home at night there’s dinner on the table. I keep this house spotless, but it’s not like you’re even here to notice--”
“I’m not here cuz I’m too busy working the job that got you this house in the first place!”
“Wow. So it’s ok for you to be away from me on your job, but if I can’t be there for you then I’m the problem?” You stared him in the face, only to be met with a glare to rival your own.
“You’re a real piece of work Namjoon.”
How is it that he could look at your relationship and see only your flaws, but never his own? You should have known better than to put all your faith in a man with a god-complex. He only ever cared about himself and his own career. All he had were excuses. You started to walk away from him when his next words stopped you in your tracks.
“Oh please, don’t act like you’re so perfect. It’s not like you haven’t done it.”
You cast an incredulous look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”
Just what is he trying to imply?
Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Now who’s playing dumb. I’m not stupid either, I know you’re seeing him behind my back.”
This again? “How many times do I have to tell you, Jackson is just a friend.”
“You’re a fucking liar. He doesn’t look at you like ‘just a friend’, I know you slept with him.”
Now you were furious. You took several steps towards him till you were so close you could feel his heated breath on your face. “Let’s not get it twisted, I’m not the cheater—You are!” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to put this on me! You and I both know I’m not the one who’s unfaithful!”
By the end of your sentence you found yourself out of breath, panting. You were shouting the entire time. Unable to keep the fire inside; your fury, abated. You looked at your husband, finally eye to eye and sighed.
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You spoke, your voice coming out much softer than either of you had expected. “I wouldn't do anything to disrespect you like the way you disrespect me.”
Once again silence swelled within the room and all you could do was look at him and wonder how you had ended up here. The two of you never used to fight, not like this. It was never this bad. But things were different now.
“W-why did you do this to me? To us?” On your wedding day you both took vows to be united as one in this relationship. He was hurting himself just as much as he was hurting you but he was so wrapped up in his own pride that he couldn't see it.
“Are you even sorry?”
Namjoon didn't say a word.
You closed your eyes and counted to ten, trying to find some kind of peace. But by the time you finished counting your anger still hadn't subsided. You couldn't find peace because there was no peace here.
Everything in this relationship was so, so hard. You couldn't pick up the broken shards of your relationship all by yourself and he wasn't even trying to fix it.
“I can't—I can't do this anymore”
Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “Can't do what anymore?”
“This!” You yelled, throwing your arms out.
“You. Me. Us. I can’t do it anymore and I don't want to.”
And with that you spun on your heel making a direct line for the bedroom. You could hear him follow behind you, but you didn't care. Your mind was focusing on something else now.
All you cared about was getting the hell out of there. You went into the closet and pulled out an overnight bag, snatching clothes off hangers and stuffing them inside.
“What are you doing?”
You had to laugh at his question. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving you.”
You didn’t stop packing. After taking out enough clothes you grabbed your bag and walked out of the closet. On your way you caught a glimpse of Namjoon with a blank expression on his face.
“Don’t tell me you're actually surprised?”
Brushing past him, you made your way to the bathroom. “I was so blindly in love with you that even when I knew—I knew what you were doing, I tried to stay. But I deserve better. I deserve so much more than you.”
After gathering the rest of your stuff you turn around to walk out the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the frame. Taking in his image made your steps falter.
He looked strong and athletic in a white muscle tee. His arms were crossed over his chest, a gesture built out of displeasure, but only served to highlight the curve of his biceps. When you finally tore your eyes away from his body and up to look at his face, you sighed. He was clenching his jaw, showing off all his angles while his lips pushed out into the perfect pout. His eyes as always were dark, intense, and fixed on you.
Well, not always fixed on you.
He was so beautiful and you hated him for it. Or rather how he made you feel. He could still make your heart skip a beat even as it was breaking.
Yes, you still loved him. But clearly his love for you didn’t run quite as deep.
“So what now? You want a divorce? You signed the prenup. You're not going to get any money out of me.” He growled, voice deep and raspy.
There he goes again, always so damn arrogant…..His words served as a reminder. This is why you had to go. You broke eye contact, concentrating on zipping up your bag. “You can keep your money. I’ve got my own, and I can take care of myself.”
You crossed in front of him, swiftly taking a pair shoes then sitting on the bed to put them on. It dawned on you that he didn’t even ask you to stay. But then again, although it hurt to make this decision, you didn’t have to blink away any tears.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
You laced up your shoes, pulling the strings tight. “I don’t know.” You snapped. “Since you seem to think all I do is sneak around behind your back, maybe I’ll go see Jackson. Or maybe I’ll go out and find me another man. All I know is, I’m never coming back to you. I can promise you that.”
You weren’t playing nice but you were honestly so done with his attitude, mistreatment, and all the pain he caused you. Confident in your decision, you got your bag and stood up, striding towards the exit.
“Hey!”
You ignored him.
“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”
“Kiss my ass, Namjoon!” You sassed, walking out the door and out of his life.
Resentment
♪ I may never understand why. I’m doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I’m much too full of resentment…
. . .
Kim Namjoon knew you would probably leave him if you found out about his affair.
You weren’t the type of woman to let yourself be walked all over, and honestly he was surprised you’d let him get away with it for so long. For months you put up with the late night calls, the sneaking around, the constant lies...And he watched the light dim in your eyes as he broke his vows. It wasn’t like he wanted to cheat on you—not at first.
But anytime he was away from you on tour he just got so lonely.
Sure he had his bandmates and his fans but when the stage lights turned off and the cheers died down none of that was enough to keep him going. Whenever he got by himself it’s like the floodgates opened up. And all the pressure, the high expectations, the push for success, the hate, all of it came washing over him.
And Namjoon felt like he was drowning in it.
As much as he wanted to tell you what ailed him, he didn’t wanna put you under any more stress. You were already constantly worrying about his welfare, filled to the brim with your own concerns. He didn’t think it fair to make you shoulder his burdens as well. But holding all his feelings inside only made things worse.
The helplessness, the anxiety...he just wanted to make it go away. Even if only for a moment. And that’s all it was. A moment of weakness.
The first time it happened he regretted it immediately. He stayed up the whole night, staring at the ceiling, consumed by his guilt. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made. He planned to go home and just come clean, tell you everything that happened. Then beg and beg for your forgiveness.
All he could do on the plane ride back home was pray to God you would somehow take him back.
But then he saw your face. The bright smile you gave him when he walked in the door and heard the joy in your voice as you greeted him. Felt your love as you curled into his embrace, nudged your head in the crook of his neck and whispered “I missed you so much”.
How could he tell you the truth then? How could he tell you what he had done, that he’d broken his promise and given himself to another? He wasn’t even on stage, yet here you were, looking at him with stars in your eyes. You were the only person who truly knew him, flaws included, and despite it all you still loved him.
He couldn’t watch the love and devotion in your eyes turn to hatred and disgust. He couldn’t cope with the reality of the situation. The fact that your heart might close to him forever, that you might leave him.
And then he’d really be alone.
No, that couldn’t happen. If you left..? At the time, he hadn’t wanted to even think about it. So instead of doing the right thing and being honest he closed himself off. If only to keep himself from breaking down. Everytime he looked at you he felt ashamed of his actions. It didn’t feel right, lying to you. Maintaining a distance was the only way he could keep his secret a secret.
The second time it happened, it wasn’t a mistake. A mistake repeated more than once is a decision. And when temptation swept by, manifesting itself in long legs and a warm body to hold at night, Namjoon couldn’t resist.
The guilt hit him just as hard, if not harder than the last time. If he had to face you in that moment without a doubt he would have spilled out all the ugly truth. But it didn’t happen that way. He was on tour for an even longer time than usual, and the separation gave him more than enough time to compose himself, to bury the guilt far enough where it would not resurface. But in doing so he had to become a different person to you. Hard. Cold to the touch.
It affected him as much as it affected you. With every shrug and look of indifference, every evasion he could feel himself slipping further and further away from the man he wanted to be, from the man that you deserved.
And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.
The third time it happened, you knew. Even now he couldn’t figure out what tipped you off. He knew there wasn’t any lipstick on his cheek or lingering perfume (Namjoon was stupid for cheating, but he wasn’t that stupid). Nothing tangible to hold your suspicion but you felt it. You questioned him, asking things like ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did something happen tonight?’, each inquiry only put him on edge and he snapped at you, starting a fight to distract you from the truth.
That night he left home, seeking comfort in the arms of the first girl he cheated with. He crossed a line that night. He knew he shouldn’t have met with her. But she already put her number in his phone and he was too much of a coward to be left alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. But in doing so he opened up pandora's box. He lay in her bed as she stroked his ego, telling him how important he was, how much better he deserved.
And soon enough he started to believe it. That he was better than you and that you were somehow, not enough for him. His superiority somehow justified him stepping outside his marriage. He found himself faultless, thinking it was your job to keep his interest and if he wasn’t happy, it was only his right to seek out happiness elsewhere.
But now, sitting alone in this dark house, all Namjoon could see was how wrong he was. So very, very wrong.
Months. You’ve been gone for months now. At first, he barely missed you. He didn’t have to. The very next day he had to fly out to Tokyo for a concert and he went back to his regular routine. Practice. Performing. Parties. The occasional girl to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need you then. And why would he? When he had all the people surrounding him, screaming his name. Singing his praises. He had no need to miss you until he went home. And that's when reality sunk in.
He came home to more than just an empty house. As the days rolled by he came to realize just how much you took care of him. Not just as a homemaker but as a mate. You were his heart, the sun and moon, his entire world. Namjoon could have killed the man who said you don’t know what you have until it’s gone because as cliché as it was, the expression couldn’t have been more accurate and the truth stabbed him like a knife.
The loneliness he felt when without you was ten times worse than when he was with you.
Your presence had a bigger impact on him than he could have imagined. Something about your ambience was instantly calming. Even if you weren’t doing anything together, whether it be just sitting on the couch or laying in bed beside him your being there gave him peace.
He tried to fill the void, find your image in the millions of girls that threw themselves at him, the women he led to his bed deep within the night. But there was no recreating you.
Namjoon hadn’t known peace since the day you left.
If it was possible he was even more restless than before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a full night's sleep. It had to be retribution for all the nights he kept you awake with the creeping thoughts of his betrayal. You, the love of his life, who he took for granted.
He ruined the best thing that ever happened to him, for his own selfish desires.
All because he lied.
And now all he wanted was a chance to get you back.
He pulled out his cell phone, trying to reach you again. He couldn’t keep track of all the times he called your phone, only to be met with your voicemail.
When he watched you walk out that door…a part of him hadn’t really recognized it as real. He was too full of himself to see it happening. His ego told him you’d be back, that you wouldn’t—couldn’t—really leave him. You’d cool off for a couple of days, then come back and try to make things work because that’s the type of person that you were.
He knew you were strong. Strong enough to move past his mistakes. He just didn’t know you were strong enough to move past him entirely.
Namjoon runs a hand across his face, dials your number, and prays. He’s not necessarily sure who or what he’s praying to, but he could really use a miracle right now. Because that’s what it would take for you to actually pick up the phone.
“(Y/n) please, please pick up.”
The phone rings once, twice, three times and then—
"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”
He hangs up, angry.
He doesn’t have the right to be angry, that much he knows. Mercy and grace from the woman he scorned is far too much to ask for, but he needs you, and he’s desperate, so he’s asking anyway.
Namjoon foolishly made the mistake of thinking that you couldn't live without him. But it was he who was the one who couldn’t live without you.
So he’ll keep calling. Even if it only goes to voicemail. He’ll keep leaving message after message after message.
Whatever it takes.
…
♪ I may never understand why. I'm doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I'm much too full of resentment...♪
…
You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was on the other side of that line. Annoyed, you sighed and rolled over onto your side. Curling up into the couch, you choose the warmth and sweet bliss of sleep over another argument.
“Aren’t you gonna get that?”
“No.” You answered without so much as opening your eyes.
Behind you, you could hear Jackson moving around, presumably to shut off your phone (you didn’t care enough to look).
The ringing grew louder and louder and soon enough you could feel your phone vibrating against your back. “(Y/n), answer the phone.”
“No.” You repeated, throwing the cover over your head. It’s entirely too early for this. Didn’t he have something to do? Wasn’t he busy? You didn’t understand it. Now that you were separated, he suddenly had all the time in the world to call you?
You could hear Jackson sigh behind you. “I swear if I have to hear your ringtone one more time—I’m going to lose my mind. Just answer the phone!”
“If it bothers you so much, why don’t YOU answer it!”
“M-me! Me?” Jackson sputtered. “Do you want me to die? Do you know what that man would do to me if he found out you were staying with me? He would kill me.”
That much was true. Namjoon would be furious to find out you’d been staying with your male best friend, which is exactly why you went to Jackson’s place when you left him.
Was it petty? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes.
If his feelings and pride were hurt than good, that made two of you.
“I mean, I could probably take him. But Namjoon when he’s angry is a totally different person. Actually no, he wouldn’t just kill me. It would be murder in the First degree. I’m not answering.”
“Then put it on silent. I don’t care, I’m not talking to him.”
Suddenly, the warmth of your blanket was ripped away from you, forcing you out of your bubble of comfort. “Did you—did you just snatch my cover off? Jackson!”
“(Y/n),” He said, coming closer and taking your hands in his. “You are my best friend and you know I’m only saying this out of a place of love, but this has to stop. You have to go.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“Look, it’s not like I don’t want you here, I love having you around you know that. It’s just—you’ve been hiding out on my couch for a couple of months now—”
“—Hiding! I’m not hiding!!!”
“And I refuse to harbour a fugitive anymore.”
“I’m not a fugitive…” you grumbled.
Jackson shot you a cross look.“Namjoon is searching high and low for you and you’re avoiding him here, in my apartment.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ok, AND?”
“And! I really don’t think staying here is doing you any good. You are not dealing with what happened. It’s not healthy. He’s calling for a reason, you need to talk to him. You can’t run away from this…”
You bit down on your lip, contemplating everything he said. He wasn’t really wrong. But you were far too exhausted to deal with Namjoon again.
You couldn’t go through another fight.
You weren’t angry. At least, not in the way you were before. The last of your anger had been exerted in a fit of rage when you returned to your home to pick up some things you left behind. This is what you told yourself. A lot of damage had been done. Broken dishes, shattered glass, photos ripped out from picture frames. Tiny vengeful acts that piled up to one huge mess. After all of it you were only partially satisfied. But that time had come and gone, you didn’t think you had any more fight in you.
You were filled with too much bitterness, too much resentment for any of that.
No matter what, you still couldn’t wrap your brain around it. How could he do this to you? You thought that having him speak the truth and actually admit to what he did would give you peace of mind but all it did was give you more questions than answers. Now just the thought of talking to him made bile rise up in your throat.
“I...I don’t even know what I would say to him.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. He’s the one who fucked up, he should be doing all the talking.” His expression softened. “But...I think you should listen. If this is really over, you need closure.”
“And on that note, you’re gonna pick up the next time that phone rings or I will revoke your couch privileges!” He said, standing up with a smile on his face.
“I hate you for this.” You growled at him.
He smiled back at you, “I love you too.” He kissed your cheek, placing your cellphone in your hand, then left for his bedroom.
You looked down at the piece of metal in you hand and sighed. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t talk to him. And yet...there was still this small part of you that wanted to hear his voice. Determined to ignore that emotion you stood up from the couch, headed straight for the kitchen. Stress eating had become a terribly bad habit of yours, but you couldn’t help it. You were the type of person who ate her feelings (and honestly, food does make everything better).
You were shuffling through last night's leftovers, trying to decide if you should heat up a plate of dukbokki or humor yourself with dessert for breakfast when Jackson’s home phone went off.
You waited a bit, figuring he would pick up eventually, but he didn’t. “Jacksonnnn~”, you whined. Nothing. Whatever, you thought. I’ll just let it go to voicemail.
You turned back to the fridge, taking out a pint of ice cream when the beep of the machine sounded and a voice broke through the apartment's silence.
“Hey (Y/n),” At the sound of your name you immediately stopped everything and froze.
“It’s me, Hobi. I know you’re crashing at Jackson’s right now,” Your jaw dropped. How could he know that? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.
You could hear him giggling on the phone. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna tell. I know you don’t wanna hear anything that I have to say but I’m still gonna say it anyway.”
“Namjoon’s a mess...We've been through a lot together—I’ve never seen him like this before. He made a mistake. A big mistake, and he knows it. But he loves you more than anything. Just hear him out okay? And not for him, but for you...I know you still love him too. Call me back, yeah? If you want, you can ditch him but don’t ditch us! We all miss you over here…..Take care of yourself.”
By the time the message ended you had teary eyes, only half a pint of ice cream left, and a decision to make. Suddenly, you didn’t have much of an appetite.
And then the phone rings. Your phone.
You let it buzz for a bit. Fully determined to ignore his call once again. But you couldn’t stop looking at the phone. Everyone’s words were circling in your head. What if your friends were right? Were you making a mistake? Would you regret this in the future?
The phone just keeps ringing. You wished it would stop so you didn’t have to think about any of this. You closed your eyes and decided to let fate make the choice for you. If he called back, you would use the last bit of fight in you to answer the phone. But if the phone call ended and he didn’t call back...then you’d really be done and let everything be.
Your ringtone died and you held your breath, waiting.
There was a long pause. Nothing.
Maybe he'll give up. Maybe he’s sick of all this too.
Expect—the phone rings again. Namjoon was still fighting for you.
So you pick up your phone, press the answer button, and put the phone to your ear.
“Hello?”
…
♪ Loving you was easy once upon a time. But now my suspicions of you have multiplied. And it's all because you lied. ♪
…
“(Y/n)?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“I......I didn’t think you would actually pick up the phone.”
“Neither did I…”
Silence is a funny thing. It’s nothing, and everything at the same time. Somehow the emptiness is still able to fill a void. Nothing is said aloud, but a thousand words are said in the silent space between you and Namjoon. It’s probably only been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes have gone by, or maybe even hours. In those moments of suspended time you decide you don’t want to listen to anything coming from him. Not even this silence.
It’s almost as if he can hear your thoughts. “Don’t hang up!”
His voice is rushed, desperate…..and soothing. Though you’ll never admit that you miss the sound of his voice. Your intellect tells you not to listen. To block him out. Hang up the phone, and move on with your life, you don’t need anything from him...Maybe that was true. But underneath all the hurt, and the deeply buried anger, there was a part of you that wanted something from him.
What that something was you couldn’t tell, but it was enough to make you linger.
When you didn’t hang up, Namjoon spoke. “I called you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months now.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you answer?” His voice was strangled, raw. If you didn’t know any better you would think him to be holding back tears. But you couldn't even remember the last time you saw Namjoon cry.
“Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk. Everything isn’t always about you.”
You can hear Namjoon take in a breath on the other side of the line and you imagine him clenching the phone in a fist, the way he always does when he makes an important phone call. The silence stretches on for a beat too long and you’re two seconds away from hanging up again when he speaks. “I don’t wanna fight. I didn’t call to argue with you.”
His words are soft, yet you still find yourself on edge. “Then what do you want, Namjoon?”
“I want to see you.”
“No.” You said, shaking your head. Not gonna happen. You find yourself pacing against the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to see you.”
“Why not?”
His words are a match, igniting your fury and immediately all of the anger you worked so hard to keep suppressed comes bubbling up to the surface. “Why not? Are you serious?!”
“After everything you’ve done you really think I wanna see your sorry face again?” Tears filled your eyes—but you were frustrated—not sad. You were letting him get to you. Namjoon always made you feel too much. You knew you’d get worked up if you talked to him, it’s why you put it off for so long. You worked too hard to try and keep yourself together for him to tear you apart again.
You want this to end. “I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye, Namjoon--”
You take the phone from your ear, ready to press end call, and you would have, if you didn’t hear his faint voice through the speaker say: “If you feel anything for me at all, don't hang up!”
You can’t do it. Hang up. You won't lie to yourself. But you can’t force out a response either. Instead, you lean against the counter, letting the silence take over as you wait for Namjoon to form his next sentence. “I don’t blame you for wanting nothing to do with me. I didn’t call you to make you upset. I just want to talk about us.”
Us. What a foreign concept. You try picturing it in your mind but no matter what, you still can’t form a full image with the two of you together. You’d been apart for so long, and if you really thought about it, the separation began long before you ever left home.
“There hasn’t been an us for a long time. I tried to talk to you before—look what happened. I’m tired Namjoon. I just—I can’t keep doing the same thing over, and over again.”
“It’s not going to be the same.”
You frown. “How can you say that?”
“Because...I’m not the same. I’ve had a lot of time to think things over. I know I fucked up (Y/n), I’m so sorry.” You scoff at his poor attempt at an apology. “I’m supposed to accept that? You think you can just call me up, apologize over the phone, and everything will be okay?”
“No, of course not.” You hear him exhale sharply. “I know it’s going to take more than that. But it’s not gonna get better if we don’t talk about it. We can’t move forward if we don’t talk.”
“What makes you think I want to move forward?”
“You didn’t hang up…”
You hate that he’s right. You want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything but it did. It would be so much easier to just let it go—to let him go. Beyond all reason, you’re still hanging on to this relationship.
“Can we just talk, please. Just...just come home.”
“That’s not my home. It’s not. So much shit has happened in that place…” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t even finish your sentence.
How could you call that place home? Nothing felt right there. All it held were bad memories. Thinking of it only brought back the nights you spent alone, those times you cried yourself to sleep, and the worst fight you ever had with Namjoon. There was no peace there. You couldn't go back to that broken place. You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. This time you knew the tears you cry come from pain, not frustration.
Dammit, I said I wouldn’t cry for him anymore!
“It is your home. It’s our home. You can come back anytime.”
“I don’t want to!”
“Okay, okay.” he said, his voice gentle. It was the same voice he used to use when he used to talk you down from your bad days. You could tell he was trying to calm you down, and it made you angry that it was kind of working. He suggested an alternative: “You don’t have to come home. Let’s just meet up somewhere.”
You don’t want that either. “Namjoon...Do you have any idea what you put me through?...W-why would I want to see you? Why would I want to hear anything you have to say?”
“I..I don’t have an answer to that. But I know you deserve an explanation.”
That made you quiet. These past months all you did was ask yourself why. Why did he do it? What reason did he have for breaking your heart? And there were so many more questions. You knew you wouldn’t get any peace of mind until they’re answered. It was what you wanted. No, needed.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll do it,” You conceded. “Where should we meet up?” You were not going ‘home’. You don’t feel comfortable there. There was a lull on the other line as Namjoon thought of a location.
“Can we meet at our place?”
. . .
You knew exactly what Namjoon meant when he said “our place”. When the two of you first started dating, it was really hard for you to be together. You work as a stylist at a fashion magazine and you met him and the other boys while working at a photoshoot. Namjoon caught your eye with his intuitive gaze and cool persona. He spoke to everyone on set with a natural esteem you found attractive. You were so surprised when you actually got the chance to speak to him and he turned out to be nothing like he appeared.
Gone was the calm, collected image you saw in front of the camera. Namjoon stuttered when he asked for your name, his cheeks bloomed into a rosy red. His nervousness charmed you, and in that moment, somehow you knew you would end up falling for him hard.
It didn’t take very much for you to give him your number. But finding a spot to go on a date with the famous rapper proved a bit more difficult. You never liked the idea of sneaking around, but you understood why. Namjoon wanted to keep things private to protect you, just in case the news of him dating didn’t go well with the public. For a long time it seemed like there was never going to be a place where Namjoon wasn’t recognized.
All the face masks and hats in the world couldn’t hide his fame. You grew tired of being swarmed in coffee shops and restaurants. You just wanted a place where you could talk, maybe hold his hand, and be at peace. Ironically, you found it when you stopped looking. It ended up not even being in a building, but instead an empty park.
Its lush greenery held quiet beauty. Not very many people knew about it, which made it perfect.
Some of the biggest conversations you ever had as a couple were spoken out here, and today was no different.
You walk up to a table nearby, tugging on the hem of your white summer dress. Fidgeting like this makes you feel stupid. You shouldn’t be nervous. If anyone should be nervous for today’s meeting it would be Namjoon. But ever since you agreed to see him, a bad feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to be nervous. You didn’t feel like you’d make it out of this alive if you were. You had to be steel. Strong, unbreakable. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt again.
It did not surprise you to see him there early. He was the type of person who liked to be punctual. Or at least he used to be. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t the same person you married. You didn’t know anything about him. Hell, after the last few months you were still trying to figure out some things about yourself.
Under the shade of the table's umbrella, Namjoon sits, bouncing his leg up and down. The only other time you’d seen him this nervous was during BTS’s first dome concert. His head faces down, staring at the ground with a look so intense he doesn’t even notice you approach him. The daze is broken once you sit down on the bench.
Namjoon jumps up, eyes wide as he looks at your face. “Y-you came?!”
It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Obviously...you thought.
He clears his throat, quickly sitting back down. “Thank you.”
For a while you just look at each other. You have to calm your heart as you take in his appearance. He’s just as handsome as you remembered. But something was different. He changed his hair. His silver locks were now a honeyed blonde. The warm glow of his skin had disappeared. And his once bright eyes now hold dark circles underneath them. He looked like shit, but you were still attracted to him, what logic was that?
The air tenses with silence, the way it always seems to do when you’re around him now. This is a mistake. Neither of you know where to begin. You hate it, but you know this conversation will never get anywhere if you don’t initiate it. “You said you wanted to explain. So explain.”
Namjoon looks tense. “I-i don’t even know where to start.”
That irritates you. You came all this way, and he didn’t even plan what he was going to say?
“What about the beginning?”
Namjoon sighed. He licked his lips, folded his hands, and then he did it. He told you everything. He told you about his anxiety, and the loneliness he felt. The desire to make it all fade away even for just a few moments. How he almost came clean the first time around. And the guilt that festered inside him for keeping the secret for so long.
“I wanted to tell you. But I knew I couldn’t tell you I cheated and keep you I—” Namjoon stopped. He looked away from you, biting down hard on his bottom lip before returning his gaze to yours.
“I was selfish. And I was wrong. There is no excuse for what I did. I’m so sorry, (Y/n).”
Your lips parted in shock. Going into this situation, you expected things to go a whole lot different. You expected him to try and defend himself, or at least blame you for the reason he cheated…but that wasn’t happening. Namjoon wasn’t trying to justify what he did, but instead taking full responsibility for his actions. Those words weren’t coming from the same man you walked away from. That man was filled with too much pride to even acknowledge his own actions—let alone apologize for them.
His actions surprised you. It was almost enough to make you drop your guard. Almost.
“I know you have questions. I’ll answer anything you ask me honestly, I swear.”
You paused. This is the moment you've been waiting for, and now that it was finally here you didn't know what to say. There were so many questions you wanted to ask. But you want to be sure you'll ask the right questions. And that you're prepared to hear the answers. Once you got the information you were dying to hear, you couldn't give it back. You’d have to live with it.
Finally, you spoke. “How’d you do it? How’d you keep this a secret for so long?”
“I kept a second phone hidden.”
The answer came with some relief. You knew you weren’t crazy, that there was some secret method to his deceit. The idea had come once or twice to go through his phone, but you knew Namjoon would never be that messy. “Did anyone else know?”
He nodded once, and a wave of aggravation rippled through you. “Some of the members knew.”
“Are you serious?” You laugh, but the sound felt hollow coming from your lips. “They must think I’m so stupid….”
“You know they don’t think that, they love you.”
You grimaced. Yeah, right. “Not enough to let me know the truth.”
Briefly you wondered which members knew and what kept them from coming to you, but you tried to push those thoughts away. You came here with questions for Namjoon. Nothing else mattered.
“Was it emotional?” You asked. “Did you love her?”
He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, it was just physical. They didn't mean anything to me.”
All the blood in your body went cold. “They?”
Namjoon opens his mouth. Then closed it again. “Shit.” He hoped to leave that part out of this meeting. A part of him knew it wouldn't be fair to you but would the truth really be any better?
“.....There was more than one girl?”
He ran a hand down his face then nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”
Through gritted teeth you ask, “How many?”
You wait for an answer but this time Namjoon keeps quiet. “You said you'd answer anything.”
“I know—”
“So that was a lie?”
“No.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Then why won't you tell me?”
Namjoon tensed, jaw clenching. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
You narrowed your gaze on him. “Well it’s too fucking late for that don’t you think? ‘Honestly’, huh? You’re so full of shit Namjoon. Being honest means telling the whole truth. All of it!”
“How many?” You press. Part of you is afraid of the answer but you still need to know.
You wait, staring him down but Namjoon looked away. He can’t say it looking you in the eye, instead he buries his face in his hands then mutters out the word three.
“Three?” You repeat.
You lean back from him, gripping the edge of the table. It felt like the world was spinning around you. Wow. Three girls. Three different girls.
Sensing your distress Namjoon quickly added. “They're just girls. They don’t matter.”
You shook your head, refusing to accept that for an answer. “Of course they matter. You made a choice to go to them, instead of me. I have to know why. What did they have that I didn’t?”
“Everything.”
Ouch, okay. You close your eyes as the pain from that statement washes all over you. The pain you feel isn’t new, but familiar. Like reopening an old wound. But Namjoon isn’t finished. Before you can even process his words he speaks again. “They were selfish, demanding, and manipulative...the complete opposite of you.”
You feel your brows pull together. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? The fact that all the women you slept with are somehow lesser than me?”
Namjoon looks confused and hurt. “(Y/n), I don't know what you want from me. I can’t change the past, all I can say is I’m sorry.”
For so long all you wanted was for him to apologize. Really apologize. No excuses, no bullshit. But now that you finally heard it, sorry just didn’t feel like enough. Instead his words make you feel empty inside. Sorry, isn’t enough to stay. You want to leave now.
Clearing your throat, you got ready to go. “I don’t know what to say to that and I don’t have anymore question so—”
“Can I ask you a question?”
You huffed out a sigh. “Fine.”
“Why did you leave? You said you'd never leave me.”
You feel yourself flush with frustration. “And you said you'd never cheat on me. Promises mean nothing. Words, mean nothing. The only thing that matters is how you act.”
“Besides,” You said, looking away from him to the beautiful summer landscape. “You didn't try to stop me. It's like you didn't even care.”
“Of course I cared. I made a mistake—”
Standing up, you slam your hands down on the table. “It was not. A mistake! Oh my god! How can you still not get it? Cheating is a choice! You made a choice! You think I didn’t get lonely all those nights I spent by myself? You think you’re the only man who’s ever approached me???”
“Of course not—”
“No. Of course not! Because I’m a catch, Namjoon.” Not caring how loud you get, you raise your voice. “I am kind, I am smart, I am ambitious, I am beautiful. You had to be out of your fucking mind to cheat on me!” You said, pressing your index finger against your temple.
You’re crying now, hot tears streaming down your face.“Why can’t you see that? Everyone else can.”
It’s the only question that goes unanswered. Namjoon stares at you, eyes glistening, but he doesn’t say a word.
“I can’t do this,” You wiped at your wet face frantically, standing up to leave.
(Y/n), please.” Namjoon moved to stop you but you ripped out of his grasp.
“I have to go.” You say reaching for your bag, ready to walk away from him, from your marriage, and all the hurt he just laid at your feet.
Love Drought
♪ Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings. But ten times out of nine, I'm only human. Tell me, what did I do wrong? Feel like that question has been posed. I'm movin' on.
. . .
You haven't seen Namjoon but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him.
You think about him almost every single day. What was he doing? How was he moving on without you? Was he moving on at all, or was he just sitting around somewhere...waiting for you to come back?
All these questions only fueled your anxiety and your determination to stay as far away as possible from Namjoon. If you didn’t see him, if you went away...Then those questions would go away too, right? You were going for the whole ‘out of sight out of mind thing’. But it wasn’t working. Because even though you said you were done—Namjoon still had pieces of you. Literally. Your things still remained untouched at the house.
You meant it when you said you didn’t want to go back home. But you needed to come get your belongings. It takes all of your strength to make the drive over without stopping to throw up, or cry. Stepping inside the place where your marriage died was the last thing you wanted to do on your day off. You put off the inevitable for months but it’s time now, you’re moving on, and you’re moving out.
So why was it so hard for you to move past the front door?
You stood there, frozen at the threshold. Heart aching at the thought of what you’re about to do. Fuck (Y/n), you cursed at yourself.You’re a grown ass woman, you can do this. Get in there. It was dead quiet in the house, as you hoped. You’re too much of a coward to call Namjoon and let him know you’re coming to take the last of your things. Couldn’t even text him. No message you typed out felt right. Anything you had to say you already told him. At this point, you both know your marriage is at its end. All you can do is pray that he won’t be there the same time you are. It’s why you chose to come in the evening. Namjoon wouldn’t be home until very late at night because of his schedule. It would give you enough time to get most of your things packed up.
Bawling your hands into fists you gripped your door key tightly, slid it in the keyhole, and unlocked the door. You take two steps inside, close the door behind you, and it feels as though you’ve stepped through time. It’s like nothing’s changed. You don’t quite know what you were expecting. You didn’t have any expectations coming over, but now looking at the space before you, you decided this isn’t it.
The house isn’t spotless, but it’s tidy, neat. In stark contrast from the last time you were here, and the fit you threw. Somehow you expected the house to look exactly in that state: broken. But nothing’s really changed. Soon your feet take on movement of their own, walking you towards the bedroom. Being back in that room is strange. It's almost as if you never left him at all. The sunset pools through the window, drowning the bed in light that looks like honey. The space has the essence of your home. The only difference you feel now is the emptiness. You spent many nights home without Namjoon but it never felt like this.
This time you’re really all by yourself. You don’t live in the same house anymore, but you're not completely alone living off your bestfriends couch. It’s been years since you’ve remembered what it feels like to be without a partner. You wondered...This emptiness...Is this what it would feel like to live without Namjoon?
You swallow down a sob, trying not to drown in your loneliness and turn and walk into the closet. Remember why you're here. Get your things, you just have to make it through these next few minutes. You reminded yourself that the hard part, the confrontation (and the leaving) was already over. All you have to do now is pack.
Strange enough your heart still aches, though not in the way it did before. This is not the ache of betrayal. You truly believed that pain would never subside but it did. Not by time but by choice. You had to choose to let go of the anger and the hurt, choose to free yourself from resentment. No. This ache was something else entirely. But you couldn’t put a name to it.
You step inside your closet, eyes studying your hung up clothes and the suitcases hidden underneath them. Not wanting to spend any more time than needed here, you got on your knees and started pulling out suitcases, folding up clothes, and putting them away. It all went much quicker than you’d expected (you got most of your clothes out during the beginning of your separation). You were picking off hangers at the end of the closet when you came across a garment bag. The garment bag.
Right away you knew you shouldn’t. Only a masochist would unzip the garment bag to their wedding dress when they’re currently living apart from their husband. And yet, you still did it. Tentatively your fingers reached out to grab hold of the bag. You pulled it into your lap and slowly undid the zipper. Then you saw your wedding dress, and you melted. As your eyes traced over the lace detail the memories of that day flickered through your mind.
It wasn’t at all what you expected. When you were younger, you always dreamed of a big wedding, everything you've ever heard about in fairytales. You wanted it to happen early in the morning, in a beautiful church with stained glass windows, surrounded by all your friends and family. You expected there would be flowers everywhere, and something else, something special. The romantic in you hoped for doves or maybe butterflies. And your dress? Only the most regal ball gown would do as you walked down the aisle to the man of your dreams.
Of course, fantasies rarely become reality. The issue of privacy is important when marrying a celebrity. At the time, just getting married seemed impossible, let alone doing it big. With the group's growing fame and Namjoon’s busy schedule, how could you find the time to get married? Or find a venue where fans or media couldn’t find you? You’d have to plan every second, every detail. Nothing could be left up to chance. Both of you were so in love but also, so very stressed with the situation before you until Namjoon made a second proposal.
“Why don’t we just elope?” he asked.
It was late at night. You lay in the comfort of his arms, head resting on his chest and mere seconds away from blissful sleep, so it took you a full minute to process that sentence. You lifted your head to look into his eyes. “What?”
Namjoon smiled down at you, thumb rubbing slow circles against your back. “Let’s just do it. Get married, I mean. Who says we have to wait or plan? I love you. I wanna marry you now.”
You sat up in bed, propped yourself up on your arm, and searched his face. “Are you serious?”
You watched amused as he narrowed his sharp eyes at you in a mock glare. “Why would I joke about this? Of course I’m serious! Let’s do it.”
You looked at him hard for a minute, but when Namjoon didn’t flinch you knew he was for real. Then of course the panic kicked in. “Baby, what? Let’s do it? It’s not like we can just walk into a church and say ‘I do’ !”
“Technically, we can.”
You shook your head, “No. What about all the plans we’ve made? I already booked the venue, and our caterer—”
Namjoon rolled over onto his side, facing you. “So we’ll cancel. The date’s still months away, that's more than enough time to give notice that we’ve changed our minds.”
You laughed,, but your shaky breath came out like a scoff. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get those reservations?! That cathedral is wedding heaven! It is stained glass perfection. The wait time is usually up to a year. A YEAR. And our cake, it’s being made by Giovanni Bianchi—world renowned pastry chef—Giovanni Bianchi. It’s a seven-tiered baked dream. And you want me to cancel?”
To your disbelief Namjoon simply shrugged. “Do we really need all that?”
He reached out, taking your hands in his. He looked down, stroking them with his thumbs in an effort to soothe you. “Grand cathedral or not, as long as we’re together, I’m already in heaven. Our wedding will be perfect no matter where we are because we have each other. And the cake? Well, why would I need a dream cake, when I can have my dream girl?” He said, winking at you.
Your heart swelled at sweet words. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you couldn’t help but smile. God, he was so cheesy. But isn’t that why you loved him? Still...you felt anxious. He might have melted your heart, but you weren’t fully convinced.
“Yeah okay, very smooth. What about our families? They’ve been looking forward to this so much. Our mothers will murder us!” You made a face, suddenly remembering your wedding party. “Oh the boys…..Jin will be so disappointed if he doesn’t get to be your best man” (you distinctly recalled him rejoicing at the news knowing he’d be “the most handsome” best man ever).
Namjoon brought your fingers to his lips and kissed the tips in between explanations. “It’s not about them”. Kiss. “Jin will get over it”. Kiss. “Our families will forgive us”. Kiss. “We’re not getting married for anyone else but us, we can do it however we want.”
You nodded your head in agreement, though you were still unsure. You knew all these things. Of course your marriage would be just for the two of you. You had no interest in simply performing the act for others approval. You loved Namjoon, you loved your relationship together, and you wanted to do what felt right for the both of you. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about the public’s opinion.
“What about your fans?” you asked. “What if pictures get out?” The whole point of all this planning was for privacy. The world knew BTS was dating, many fans suspected they had secret girlfriends, but a wife? How would they react to that? You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Namjoon and his image. You know how hard he and the rest of Bangtan worked to be respected in the music industry. What would happen if the world found out their leader was dating a nobody like you?
Namjoon looked you straight in the eyes, and spoke in a calm voice. “I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of loving you. Let the whole world see that I’m marrying the kindest, loveliest, soul I’ve ever known. I don’t care what they think, or what they say. I just want you. All I want is to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Nothing else matters.”
You felt another wave of love pass over your heart. His sincerity stunned you. You glanced at him with glistening eyes. “Namjoon…Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He grinned at you, letting go of your hand to reach up and cup your cheek. “Are you done yet?” He teased. “Despite all your protests, I haven’t heard you say no…?”
You took a second to think through your conversation. Namjoon was right. You never said no, because as crazy as it was, you agreed with your fiancé wholeheartedly. You wanted this, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and you wanted to get married as quickly as possible. With a new resolve you shifted in the bed straddling him, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said.
Namjoon raised both eyebrows up. “Okay!? Just like that? Anything else I need to assure you of? We have our marriage license. I have a tux. You already have your dress. I know you’re concerned but we have everything we need.”
You nodded. This time you were sure. “Let’s do it.”
Namjoon hesitated, then his face broke into a smile that was so bright it gave life to one of your own. In that moment you realized what you thought to be nerves earlier was really just excitement. You brought your hand to his shoulders, squeezing tight. “We’re getting married,” you whispered, voice full of awe.
“We’re getting married!” Namjoon echoed.
Before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle. You let him plan it all. You got married at night, in a small church, without stained glass windows. There was no big guest list, but neither of you could stand the thought of going through the ceremony completely by yourselves, so you allowed for your immediate family to be there (that included Yoongi, Hoseok, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk). Flowers did not adorn every pew, but the space was illuminated by soft and warm candlelight. No butterflies or doves. It wasn’t like what you imagined in your head. Life rarely coincides with those kinds of plans. But Namjoon was right. Because you had each other, it was perfect.
In the end, the only part of your wedding that lived up to the fairytale was your dress. It was everything you wanted in a gown. All white with a sweetheart neckline, crystal embroidery and layers upon layers of tulle. The dress felt a bit heavy, but you can still remember the look on his face when he lifted your veil. In one glance, he made all that weight disappear. You felt lighter than air. “You look like an angel.” He whispered, voice sweet and low, so only you could hear. In that moment all you could feel was love.
So how did you end up here? Clutching your wedding dress on the closet floor, desperately wiping away tears. God, what a mess you are. You pushed out a breath and started shoving the white, fluffy fabric back into the garment dress. It was a mistake taking this out. You couldn’t get it back in again. Your fingers slip as you try to grip the zipper, and you can’t tell if it’s because of your sweaty palms or your wet tears, but it won’t budge. Why won’t it zip? You pull up hard, snagging the dress in its teeth.
Shit. Frustration flushes through you as you snatch the zipper back down only to hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing in the process.
You shut your eyes tight, shoulders slumping with defeat. When you opened your eyes again all you could see was the rip in the dress, threads straining and unraveling all at once. It looked as torn up as you feel inside. Part of you is falling apart at the idea of leaving Namjoon, pressured to leave all of this pain behind and let go of the relationship. Call it mind over matter. It didn’t make sense to stay with a man you had broken your heart and your trust. All logic told you to divorce him and never look back. You know this. And yet? There is a part of you aching to repair what’s been broken, pull out the sorrow from this home, and heal all the hurt.
You were so busy wrapped in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard the door unlock, or footsteps tread into the bedroom. From the corner of your eye you saw a glimpse of blond hair, wide brown shoulders. It was Namjoon. You couldn’t help the startled gasp that fell from your lips.
“(Y/n)”, he breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Namjoon kept his distance. He didn’t look at you and didn’t cross the threshold of the closet door, generously leaving space between you. Instead, his eyes were glued to the floor. “I saw your car out front, but I didn’t think it’d actually be you here.” He reached up a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just...confused.” Namjoon glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes then slowly, his smokey eyes rose to meet yours. “Why are you here?”
“. . .” You faltered. Once Namjoon laid his eyes on you, you softened, even after all this time he had that effect on you. You were still consumed in thoughts about your marriage...feeling that again, you didn’t know what to think. You almost preferred it when you felt anger or pain at the sight of him. Instead you felt something else. You looked down at your lap, fingering the dress. Was it longing? You started again, making eye contact. “I came back to get the rest of my things.”
A look passed across Namjoon’s face but before you could identify it, it was gone. Namjoon nodded, looking away from your face. His gaze shifted to your hands. “Is...is that—”
“—My wedding dress? Yes.” You tried to think of an excuse, some reason for you having it out but nothing came to mind. You shrugged, settling for the truth. “I just wanted to look at it I guess.” Both of you ignored your tear stained face.
Namjoon bit his lip, the silence stretching between you until he said, “I’ll leave you to it,” and abruptly walked away. Finally alone you breathed out a sigh.
You felt a tinge of disappointment. And you were angry with yourself for it. You don’t know what you were hoping for, or what you wanted to get out of that conversation. What’d you expect? Did you really think after everything that he’d lower himself one last time and beg for you to come back? Again? The man you married you would have, but the man who cheated on you? No, he had too much pride. This wasn’t a romance movie where the couple fights and breaks up but somehow everything magically fixes itself and they get back together. It was really over.
The finality of it all stunned you. You sat there, numbing yourself to the pain for a minute. Then you striantened out your wedding dress, and zipped up the garment bag. This time it went up without a hitch. You were just getting up off your knees when Namjoon whipped back into the room, surprising you.
“I know you could care less about anything I have to say right now,” he began, raising a cautious hand. “You probably hate me, and I understand that. I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.” He looked up in thought then pressed his hands into his eyes. When his hands fell away you braced yourself for what came next. “I’m asking you for a second chance. I’m asking you for a second chance because I love you more than anything. You are the love of my life, and I’m sorry I forgot that. I know you don’t owe me anything, least of all your forgiveness.”
He stopped, voice thickening as he gulped down tears. “But I’m asking for it.”
“I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t do everything to get you back.”
Tears filled your eyes. “Are you saying that, because you love me? Or are you saying that because you want me back?”
His gaze never wavered. “Both. I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, just to have you in my life. Even if it meant losing you. ”
All at once it hit you. That feeling, the one you struggled to identify when you held your wedding dress in your arms. It wasn’t longing. It was love. You were still in love with Namjoon.
And so you did the unthinkable. You kissed him.
Sandcastles
♪ We built sandcastles that washed away. I made you cry when I walked away, oh. And although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby. Every promise doesn't work out that way.
. . .
It only takes seconds for you to cross the space between and press your lips to his. For a moment, Namjoon doesn’t move—doesn’t even breathe. Then his arms wrapped around you, brought you flush against him and you melted in his embrace as he kissed you, his lips softer than ever. Deep down, you know you shouldn’t. It would be too painful to become wrapped up in Namjon again only to tear yourself away from him. But your body has a will of its own. When his tongue swept across your bottom lip, you parted for him like the red sea and every emotion you’d ever felt for him came flooding back.
Every kiss you’ve ever had, every whisper of “I love you,” all of it ignited in your mind the second Namjoon kissed you back in a moment so intense you felt your body tremble at his touch. His lips moved gently over yours while his hands came up to cup your cheeks, and before you know it, you find yourself in the middle of the most sensual kiss you’ve had in your life. Namjoon kissed you like he was hungry, tongue rolling into your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan, arching into his embrace.
It was shameful how your body responded back to him. You could feel your heart rate increase, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted him like this. Your thoughts traveled back to the words that sparked your desire: “I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, even if it meant losing you.”
All this time you’d been fighting against your love for Namjoon, convinced any feelings he had for you were long gone. But everything he said proved otherwise.
It was confusing to you. You spent so much time thinking that Namjoon didn’t want you anymore, you’d even come to accept it but now? You didn’t know what to think. Your mind was screaming for you to pull away, stop before it went any further. That everything you were doing right now was wrong. Except, it didn’t feel wrong. It almost felt...good. Right.
The truth is you feel exactly the same. Despite everything you’d been through, you still loved Namjoon. He was the love of your life and you wished with everything in you that you could turn back the clock and start over. If what he said was true—if there was even a possibility of Namjoon still loving you, you needed to feel that.
Namjoon’s touch made you desperate. You found your hands tracing the planes of his body, running down his muscular arms before coming back up as you linked your arms around his neck. He kissed you deeper, groaning low in his throat, and the sound was enough to drive you wild. Even this close, you couldn’t get enough of him. All you could feel was the compulsive need for more. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More, more, more.
You could feel Namjoon’s body backing you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress and you allowed yourself to fall back against the soft sheets. But Namjoon didn’t fall with you. You opened your eyes, instantly giving way to panic. His pause alarmed you. Your anxiety reared its ugly head, speaking cruelty into your mind. How could you be so foolish? What were you thinking, kissing Namjoon? He didn’t actually want you. He was leading you on, playing with your feelings. That’s why he stopped.
You pulled yourself up, leaning your weight back on your elbows to look into his eyes. You expected to see cold rejection on his handsome face, but what you saw in his gaze wasn’t at all what you imagined. Instead, when you looked into his eyes, all you could see was raw, unfiltered desire. And strangely enough, uncertainty.
Namjoon had a million thoughts racing through his mind, all of them questions.
How did he end up here, with you spread across his bed when only minutes before you seemed worlds apart? The situation didn’t feel real, more like a fantasy, like he dreamed you up. But if this dream was real—if this dream was really coming true—should he let it?
Of course he wanted you. If you kissed him like this a couple of months ago, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate to take you; he’d have his way with you until you screamed his name. But tonight, the last thing Namjoon wanted. He’d spent months craving your touch; the feel of your lips against his, how the heat of your body felt flush against his. He caused you enough pain acting on his lust. He didn’t want to hurt you further by taking advantage of the situation.
Both of you got caught in an emotional whirlwind but this kiss was a mistake, wasn’t it? He looked down at you, waiting for you to push him away but you didn’t make a move. Instead, you stared at him, desire burning in your eyes. God, that look alone was enough to arouse him. Still, he didn’t make any move to kiss you.
You took a moment to look at Namjoon, really look at him. Trying to uncover the emotion swirling behind his dark eyes. The longer you stared, the more you felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest. You could see his uncertainty but the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Was it insane to sleep with your soon to be ex-husband? Yes. Did it make you want it any less?
Not even in the slightest.
I must be losing my mind. You couldn’t explain it yourself, but kissing Namjoon opened up something in you. Feelings you didn’t know you still had swept all over you. Heat washed over your body. You could feel your skin flush, passion stirring in your blood.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice taut with apprehension.
Your body was practically screaming yes. But Namjoon’s hesitation made you pause.
Reading the confusion in your eyes, he quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying I don’t want to—believe me I do—I just don’t want you to do something tonight that you’ll regret in the morning.”
Your mind wasn’t there. That moment seemed so far off from the ever-present now and the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth of Namjoon’s body. You knew you had to make a choice. Yes or no. There was a small voice in the back of your head cautioning you against this. But tonight you were following your heart. Consequences be damned.
You looked up at him and nodded. “I want this.”
Namjoon leaned forward to kiss you, and you shivered at the feel of his lips against yours. This time, there was no hesitation. You couldn’t remember the last time Namjoon kissed you like this. Slowly, tenderly, like this kiss mattered. Like you mattered. Any inhibition you had melted away as you leaned into his touch. You felt yourself lower back down onto the bed. Namjoon’s hands passed over your body, slimming down your waist, before coming to rest on your thighs. You let them linger there, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. You were so into the kiss, the feel of him you didn’t notice his hands pry off your clothes until you were left in only your underwear.
He stopped then, pulled away from your lips to look at you. Then the only thing you could feel on your body were his eyes drinking you in. The eye contact alone had you squeezing your thighs together. You watched the heat build in his dark gaze until his eyes lingered just a little too long, until your skin tingled all over from the intensity.
Then he was all over you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Hands cupping your breasts. The feel of him against your thigh. It was an assault to your senses, but instead of overwhelming you, it only made you crave him even more. You arched your back as Namjoon kissed your collarbone, slowly making his way down the valley of your breasts. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue moving down your body, closer and closer to where you needed him most.
“Namjoon,” You breathed, body humming with pleasure. He looked up from between your thighs, dark eyes connecting with yours for a split second. You watched as he hooked his fingers into your underwear and dragged them down your legs. Then he gave his complete attention to your body, licking a long strip straight down your center that had you moaning his name again.
Namjoon gripped your thighs firmly in his hands, pulling you closer towards him. He wanted you to know that this meant more to him than just sex, that he loved you, and that he was more than willing to show you just how much. He takes his time tasting you. Each lick languid and loving. He didn’t want to tease you, all he wanted to do was to please you. To touch you and erase the pain he caused--even if only for a second. Namjoon swirled his tongue across your clit. Once, twice, a third time, drawing sweet moans and gasps from your lips.
You couldn’t keep yourself quiet. It’d been so long since anyone touched you. Throughout everything, you still remained faithful to Namjoon. And even if you’d been with another, no one could ever make you feel like this. Have your toes curling, back arching. It was almost embarrassing how easily you melted under his touch. Some part of you still wondered how you could give in so easy. Shouldn’t you be feeling some resistance? All you felt was longing.
You found yourself rocking your hips against him, and crying out as his tongue delved deeper.
You wanted to bring your hands up to your face to muffle the sounds but before you could, Namjoon stopped you.
“Don’t,” he said. He took hold of your hands and threading his fingers through yours. All the while his tongue was still swirling against you, making lewd sounds that had you feeling hot.
You could feel your body heating up, the rise and fall of your chest coming faster and faster. When you felt him slide tongue inside you, pressing up against your sweet spot—it was enough to push you over the edge. You came, squeezing Namjoon’s hands tight.
Namjoon lapped up your juices, enjoying the taste of your slick on his tongue. Even then he didn’t stop, coaxing a second orgasm out of you with soft licks against your center.
“Joon,” you whimpered, body humming with oversensitivity. “Too much.”
Only then did he pull away, moving to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. He sat up, and you rose on your elbows ready and willing to return the favor, but Namjoon gently pushed you back down on the bed, shaking his head.
“I just wanna be inside you right now,” he rasped.
God, you wanted that too. They way Namjoon ate you out had your body begging for more. You weren't going to argue with him.
Namjoon sat up and placed a hand around your neck, guiding you back to his lips. It started out slow. Soft, sweet kisses against your lips. It wasn’t until he slipped his tongue inside your mouth that he found himself suddenly desperate for you. Even more surprising was your reaction to him. You kissed him back with just as much fever, completely captivated.
The kiss seemed to go on forever. When you finally pulled away, you looked at each other, panting, the air thickening between you two. Namjoon’s dark eyes stared down at you with an intensity that pierced your soul. You knew he felt it too. This energy...There was still love between you. But you’d already made your decision. You wanted this moment, this passion but you couldn’t trust him with your heart and be sure he wouldn’t break it. I can’t fall for him again. I can’t. You wanted him badly but wanting him, and trusting him were two different things.
“Namjoon,” you started. Then stopped, trying to find the right words to explain. “This isn’t—I can’t—”
“—Stay? I know.” Namjoon knew what he was getting into the second you kissed him. He knew this was goodbye, and that it would hurt like hell come morning. He didn’t care. If only he could change the past, he’d take it all back.
But he couldn’t. The damage was already done. This was the last time he’d ever hold you in his arms again. If he could have you, even for this short time, he’d take what he could get. He wasn’t going to fuck it up trying to make this into something it wasn’t. He loved you too much to be selfish at this moment. If this were the last time, he would make it well worth your while.
“I just need tonight.”
Namjoon pulled you tighter against him, molding you against his body. Before making any sudden movement, he pulled back a little to look in your eyes, to make sure this was still what you wanted.
You cupped his cheek and kissed his lips, reassuring him. Then he aligned his cock against your entrance and pushed inside you with one smooth move. You tensed, freezing in his arms. The feeling of your walls clenched around him made staying still absolute torture. But Namjoon wouldn’t dare move.
You close your eyes and breathe out a shaky breath, familiarizing yourself with the burn of the stretch. He’s so thick it takes a minute for your body to adjust to the size. Though the sensation of Namjoon nuzzling into your neck helps turn the pain into pleasure. You hooked your leg around his waist nudging him forward.
The small act made both of you moan in unison. “Namjoon...please,” you breathed.
He moved, starting out with a pace that had your insides feeling molten. His hands gripped at your hips as he pulled out almost all the way, then slowly slid himself deep inside you. You were so wet, so tight he couldn’t help but groan. The feel of you taking all of him, giving him this pleasure and the look in your eyes...Namjoon was sure he’d never love another the same way.
This wasn’t just sex. Namjoon knew the difference now. What it really meant to be intimate with a partner. To share his body with someone not for a distraction or stroke his ego but for love. To draw closer with one another. This was it for him. You, it was always you. There would never be another. He started to rock into you, deep and slow, desperate to make you feel that.
You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation. Needing more, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts and Namjoon took the hint, snapping his hips to meet yours faster. You cried out as he filled you again and again and again. Right now, you don't have to worry about future decisions. You didn’t have to think about all the conflicting feelings you had for this man.
Not that you could think about that anyways. Your senses were all wrapped up in how good Namjoon was making you feel. His pace was brutal just how you liked it, but his touch was nothing but kind. His hands trailed up to the small of your back keeping you close. Namjoon cupped your face as he kissed you; he only pulled away to rest his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. You’d slept with Namjoon before, but something about this time was different. If you didn’t know any better—you’d think he was making love to you. He was so strong, yet so loving. You wished he could be this way with you always.
You wanted to stay here, savor this moment. But Namjoon was grinding his hips against yours in a way that had you breathless. You were so close. “Namjoon, I—”
“Come for me,” he said.
Growling, he thrust harder against you and reached down between your bodies to rub your clit, driving you towards your orgasm. Your pleasure built inside you, sweeping over your body like a wave until it crashed and washed over you, sending tremors down your body.
Feeling you come apart in his arms, Namjoon slowed his thrusts. You clenched around him till pleasure flooded his senses and he came too, burying his face in your neck and moaning out your name.
The only sound heard throughout the room was panting as the two of you came down from your highs. Namjoon brushed your hair away from your face and ran his thumb across your cheek.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice full of concern. He rolled off you and onto his side so as not to crush you but remained close, his skin flush against yours.
“Mhmm…” you hummed. You stared at the ceiling as your heart rate slowed back down. You were expecting to feel something. Regret...maybe relief?
You don’t know what you were hoping for. Maybe subconsciously you thought sleeping with Namjoon would help you come to some kind of resolution. A grand epiphany that would tell you what to do with your situation. But really you didn’t feel any different than you did before.
“What are you thinking about?”
You shake your head as if to shake all those thoughts out of your head. “Nothing.”
Namjoon didn’t press you, but the silent tension in the air gave you the impression that he wanted to ask for more.
You’ve never felt so divided. The ego in you wanted to walk away from it all. Say goodbye and cut your losses, no matter the cost. You made peace with leaving because you were so sure that Namjoon didn’t want you. You knew you couldn’t be with a man who had no love for you. But now, knowing that there was still love here. That he still cared, that you still cared. It changed things. You wanted it to work. But you weren’t sure if you could love him the same; there was always the issue of trust. How could you ever trust him again?
“I’m sorry,” said Namjoon. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
You turned to face him then, lying on your side. “It was what it wanted and now…” You trailed off, lost to your thoughts again. You had to think about it. Dig deep and really question what it was you were searching for.
“Now what? What do you need?” His expression was torn but honest.
So you asked for what you really wanted out of him. You asked for the truth.
“I need you to tell me everything.”
. . .
And he does. That night, as you bathe together, he finally tells you the truth. The whole truth.
When the sweat on your skin dried and became sticky, Namjoon ran a bath. You both got inside the clawfoot tub and sat on opposite sides, bodies intermingling as you faced each other. It was thick with quiet as the bath filled up with heated water.
At first, Namjoon hesitated. You could tell he wanted to spare your feelings. So he gave you the truths in little bits. Pieces of information you could swallow, like the names of his past lovers, and when each act happened. Then slowly, bigger chunks that had you holding your breath as you processed the facts of his betrayal. He told you about it all. About the weakness, the desperation, and the loneliness he felt on tour. The need to be touched and seen–really seen–by someone. Even if that someone wasn’t you. How one bad decision turned into two, turned into three. And the guilt. The guilt that accompanied the deception that rose and rose like high flames, eating him up inside.
By the time Namjoon’s done speaking, the water’s gone lukewarm, and your fingers were pruned, yet neither of you gets out of the bath. You let Namjoon bring you to close, till your back's up against his chest. He lathers his hands, and you let his calloused palms wash the pain away. Till the only thing you feel is his light touch. You repeat this action to him, stroking his skin with absolute ease. Then, and only then do you step out of the water. Namjoon drapes a fluffy white towel over your shoulder and wraps it around you.
He looks you in the eyes, and tells you that you're the only woman he’s ever loved. The only woman he would ever love. And you believe him.
. . .
That night, you lay down beside him exhausted. Not the kind of exhaustion that comes from lack of sleep or a long day at work. Not the weariness that leads to nights of deep slumber–no–this is the weariness that puts stress on your heart. The kind that leaves you feeling drained. Empty. Beside you, Namjoon sleeps, but you’re wide awake.
Every nerve in your body is begging for rest. But it’s your heart keeping you up tonight.
Heart over mind, mind over matter. You're split in both directions. Wanting to stay, and wanting to go. You told yourself that you were leaving. Walking away from it all.
But something felt wrong.
Everything was already moving in one way, but your heart was starting to face another. You still hadn’t made up your mind.
You lay in bed with your eyes closed and remembered the first time you left. Before you knew the truth, before you knew anything really, except for the fact that you didn’t want to live in a lie. You packed your bag and drove to Jackson’s, but you couldn’t make it through the night without breaking down and calling your mom. You spilled your heart to her, and she heard you, even through all the tears. You called to get everything off your chest, but you were also searching for answers. You were desperate for her to give you some kind of sign of what you were supposed to do or an out, but she didn’t.
“Do you remember when you were little, and you used to make sandcastles at the beach?” she asked. “You used to love playing in the sand. Barely even went in the water. You spent all day just creating something, building your own world.”
It caught you off guard. You were so shocked that for the first time in hours you stopped crying.
The memory was hazy in your mind, but you could still picture those summer days filled with warm golden sun, and the salty sea air.
“Some days as the sun set, the tide would come in and wash away everything you worked on. And you’d cry. Cry your little heart out. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to pick you up, and hold you in my arms, comfort you. But you were at that age where you needed to start learning how to comfort yourself. So I let you cry. And after you’d got out all your tears, sometimes you’d start over. Dig your hands into the sand and start building all over again. Make something new. And sometimes you’d give up, walk away and come sit by me.”
“Yeah mom I remember...but, what does that have to do with anything?”
“You built your marriage with Namjoon on a foundation of love, faith, and trust. That’s your sandcastle. And now that trust has been washed away you don’t know what to do, and you're crying out for me. Baby, I love you, but you’re gonna have to make this decision for yourself. I can’t make it for you. Whatever you decide, I will be right behind you, supporting you. If you want to stay and find a way to be together I will be here. If you want to divorce him I’ll be here for that, too. But you have to decide.”
You let her words sink in. You knew she was right. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed you burst into tears again. “How am I supposed to decide? It’s so hard to know what choice is right.”
“I don’t–I don’t want to make a mistake…” You said through sobs.
“(Y/n), the only thing worse than staying or going, is you holding your breath and being indecisive. You have to make a choice. Decide.”
You couldn't think of how to act on your mother’s advice back then, but in the present, you understood. You squinted in the dark and looked at the time. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:22 AM in bold red letters. You hadn’t even realized you’d been up all night with your thoughts.
You looked over at the man causing you this great affliction. Pale moonlight streamed through the window illuminated his heart-shaped face. You once thought of him to be a monster, but he wasn’t. He was just human. And for once, you finally sorted your feelings about him. You weren’t in limbo anymore.
You knew your decision:
Leave him | Choose him
#bts fic#bts scenario#namjoon smut#namjoon angst#namjoon scenarios#reader x namjoon#my fics.🍪#poc reader#songfic#fic: promises
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Shades of Grey || CL16 {4}
Summary: Your happy ending.
Warnings: 18+ only, fluff to make up for the hurt I have put you through.
Word Count: 2k
F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || - complete
Two Years Later
Even with the moulded plugs fitting snug in your ear you could hear the roar of the Miami crowd as you stepped out onto the grid. It had been a long road of recovery and few people believed you would ever make it back into Formula One. But one person did, and he was there to support you every step of the way.
“And the third Leclerc has entered the track now and she is in a decent space to be getting points after a good qualifying round yesterday.”
You blocked out the commentators that wove their way around the cars and teams, hoping to get a word from a driver or two, and continued your walk up the starting positions. Suddenly your earplugs were pulled out with an irritating pop and the full force of the atmosphere threatened to deafen you as you turned to the newest Alfa Romeo driver.
“Nervous?” Arthur asked for the thousandth time since Williams announced you would be back in the seat and no longer the reserved driver just a few weeks ago.
“I think you and your brother have that covered,” you said as you looked ahead to where Charles was talking to the media from his place in P4.
Charles had barely slept last night. He had laid awake, holding you close like he was afraid to let you go. He knew it was your dream to race again and he had watched you put in the monumental effort to regain your strength after waking from the coma but now that you were there he was having trouble letting go.
He had hardly been able to concentrate during the free practices and especially the qualifier and you knew it had affected his pace. Instead of asking his team for updates on his lap times he was asking about yours, and when a yellow flag slowed the track down his heart rate had spiked in response until his team reassured him the flag was nothing to do with you.
It was almost more than he could bear just seeing the few burn marks forever seared into the top of your back and he made sure he kissed the marred skin softly everytime he curled himself up against you. He hadn’t said anything about it to you, but you could see the worry in his eyes as he watched you getting dressed into the fireproofs that had saved your life when the fuel tank had exploded two years ago.
“You’re still wearing your ring,” Arthur commented, pulling you from the memory of your morning spent wrapped in Charles’ arms.
You looked down at the simple gold band on your finger, smiling at the knowledge that the date engraved on the inside represented the best day of your life. “I only just put it on, and I don’t plan on ever taking it off.”
You both turned at the sound of Charles’ voice as he bounded over after finally breaking free of the Sky News reporter and a wide grin greeted you. He threw an arm over his brother’s shoulders, his helmet hanging by his fingertips, while his other hand snaked around your waist and pulled you into his side so he could kiss your temple.
“Ready to make history?”
Arthur grinned back and nodded. “Three Leclerc's racing in F1.”
“Does one by marriage count?” you asked with a laugh as they both looked offended.
“Your last name is Leclerc, is it not?” Charles dared as he nodded to the ring on your finger and bit his lip.
“So long as you keep looking at me like that it will be,” you replied with a wink and Arthur tore himself out from under his brother’s arm.
“Get a room,” Arthur said with a juvenile gag.
Charles smirked as he placed his helmet on the ground and sat against the rear tire of brother's car so he could pull you between his legs and suggest, “There is still 30 minutes to the race.”
“You only need 30 seconds,” Arthur joked before darting into the midst of his engineers where he would be safe from his brother. It was nothing new for the good natured sibling rivalry to spill over onto the track and as often as they were seen hugging, they were also seen trying to tackle each other down to the ground to settle some debate.
It didn’t matter that there were literally hundreds of thousands of people at the event and even more watching live on their tv’s at home, you wanted his attention solely on yourself and you cupped his jaw that was clenched after his brother's taunt. He slowly turned back to face you and you stared into eyes that were the perfect mix of green and gold, like autumn leaves just before they fell.
“You look tired,” you murmured as you tipped his chin back so the sunlight chased away the shadows on his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I like it when it’s just us out here.” He leaned in and rested his head between your breasts but there was so much padding in the race suit it was almost impossible to feel. “You, me and the stars.”
“And the alligators.” You grimaced at the thought of the animals that populated the state and draped your arms around Charles’ neck. “I can’t wait to go home. No alligators, or snakes, or Florida Man.”
“I can’t wait to go home so I can have you all to myself,” he said as Arthur made his way back over, complaining about the PDA as he approached, “with no interruptions.”
“Sky wants an interview with the first couple to race against each other,” Arther said as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder to the reporter behind him.
“Have they been asleep for the past 5 years? Poor Yuki.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Charles groaned.
“What, Pierre's boyfriend? You know I’m kidding.”
His arms tightened around your waist as he held on a little tighter and shook his head and mumbled his response.
“Babe, you just motorboated me on live tv.” You gently pushed him back so his words wouldn’t be lost to the thick padding of the racing suit. “What did you say?”
He ran a hand through his thick tufts of hair, his wedding band catching the sunlight as he did so. “Please, don’t joke about anyone being in a coma.”
Your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath and a stab of guilt hit you in the gut. “I’m sorry, my love,” you apologised as you saw the hurt in his eyes. “I didn’t even think.”
Charles nodded and rose to his feet, his forefinger trailing up your neck to your chin to guide your head back. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about every single second today. You are my world, and I nearly lost you once already.”
“You’ll never lose me, Charles,” you murmured as you ran your finger over his wedding ring. “I’m yours, forever, like I promised in our vows, I’m yours in this life and the next. I found my way back to you once before, there’s nothing that could keep me from finding you again.”
The noise on the track fell away as Charles dipped his head to capture your lips, stealing your breath when his tongue traced along your bottom lip. Your lips parted for him and he moaned softly at the access he had been desperate for, shamelessly deepening the kiss in the middle of the grid.
The fifteen minute warning alarm sounded and you reluctantly pulled away, his hands tightening for a moment before he sighed and released you. “I’ll walk you.”
Thankfully the media crews had moved on so there were no interrupts after wishing Arthur well and heading further up the starting grid. Charles’ bright red racing suit stood out amongst the sea of dark blue Williams’ crew but he felt at home around your team like they were his own too.
You grabbed your bottle of water and held it out to Charles since he had been busy talking instead of drinking. He gave you a small shake of his head but dutifully wrapped his lips around the straw and sipped the electrolyte infused water. When you pulled a few macadamia nuts from your hidden stash in the car he outright laughed.
“Seriously?”
“As your wife I take the role of keeping you fed and watered very seriously,” you said as you picked one and lifted it to his lips that curled up in amusement before letting you feed him.
“Satisfied?” he asked after chewing the snack and swallowing it.
“With you, always,” you said with a wink before one of the engineers handed your balaclava over, followed by your helmet. “Ready?”
Charles inhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring and his lips pressing tightly together as he swallowed deeply, and he took the white balaclava from your hands. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”
The air turned heavy as he battled his fear and though you felt the same apprehension your focus was on easing Charles’ mind. Forcing a smirk onto your face, you brushed his dark hair back from his forehead. “You’ll see me in your rearview, right before I overtake you.”
Charles chuckled and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Would I still have to be your slave for a week?”
“Oh, babe, I don’t think a week would be enough for what I have planned with you.”
Charles pulled the balaclava over your head and straightened it with precision before stroking the top of your cheek that peeked out of the eye hole. “Win or lose, I’m yours.”
You reached up to his neckline where his own balaclava was tucked in so he didn’t have to carry it around and you pulled it over his head, brushing aside his hair that flattened nearly all the way down to his eyes. “I’m yours,” you echoed.
The teams were starting to pack up and the grid was emptying as things got into serious race mode. Charles would have stayed until the very last second before he had to be seated in his car but you knew that wasn’t conducive to focusing on the race so you grabbed his helmet and pressed it to his chest.
“Your cars looking lonely,” you said through the thickness in your throat. “Go.”
He was torn as his hands closed over yours and he looked down at his red and white helmet, the updated design holding both your initials and the date of your wedding as well as your racing number. Your’s was the same, only the colour scheme matched your car that had a complete overhaul and improvements since the accident.
“Drive safe,” he rasped as his green eyes seared yours. He pulled the material of his balaclava down to free his lips and you did the same to seal the promise with a kiss.
“Sempre.”
He started to walk away to finish his climb of the grid, two rows separating your places, but before he was out of ear shot you called out. “Hey, Chuck!” He turned with a bounce of his shoulders with a laugh that you couldn’t hear. “I love you.”
His palm slapped his chest twice before resting over his heart. “I love you too. Sempre.”
The first light turned red and you began your starting sequence.
There was a moment where it felt as if the entire world held their breath and time slowed. Your eyes looked dead ahead but they saw more than just the five red lights ready to disappear and signal the eruption of chaos. You saw the vibrant flags in the grandstand, the baby blue of the sky above, the lush green grass past the first turn, and the bright red of the Ferrari two rows ahead.
This was right where you were meant to be, not a single shade of grey in sight, no more voids of darkness. This was light. This was life. This was love.
Tagging: @alwaysclassyeagle @abeanontoast @theslytherinwriter @pjofics @91vhs
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc imagine#formula 1 fanfic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 rpf
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The Golden Cage (5/5)
[modern! mafia boss • Aemond x female]
[warnings: sex content, smut, angst, mention of death]
[description: Aemond works with the mob and finds a new accomplice. His attention is drawn to his daughter, trying to isolate herself as much as possible from their criminal underworld. Angst, domination kink, a lot of sexual tension.]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next chapters: Masterlist
______
After what happened between them at the club there was a change between them that neither of them talked about or discussed. Aemond started coming to their house again.
He stayed up late, until he finally told her father that he wanted to spend the night at their house. Her father of course agreed, not suspecting what his real purpose was.
He came to her room late at night, when she was already asleep. She didn't lock the door.
She knew he would come.
That after what had happened between them he was desperate to touch her again.
She woke up hearing him and wondered if she was dreaming or if she was awake, they both stared at each other in silence, breathing unevenly, wondering who would succumb first. She swallowed hard as she saw him begin to undo the belt of his pants.
"Scream." He said dispassionately, apparently thinking that she was going to call out for her father's help. Not a single sound came out of her mouth.
He approached her slowly, pulling the covers off her, seeing her oversized T-shirt and panties. He grabbed the fabric of her underwear and slid it off in one, swift motion, her lips parted slightly at the feeling.
She knew he was pretending, that he didn't want brutal, emotionless sex. She had felt it then, in the club, as he pressed his face against her neck trying to hide his desperation.
He knelt in front of her on her bed, spreading her legs shamelessly, her chest rose and fell in an uneasy breath, her eyes wide in shock, watching his every move. He stared for a moment at what was between her thighs, at her moist, pink entrance.
After a moment, as if he couldn't help it, he just leaned over her and pushed his tongue so deep inside her that she leaned back with a loud moan of surprise and he looked at her, pausing, frowning. She pursed her lips as she watched him wordlessly tell her to be quiet.
He grunted in satisfaction at her reaction and leaned over her again, returning to what he was doing before she interrupted him. The tip of his tongue ran from her entrance to her clit, teasing and licking her slightly, massaging her in circular motions that made her body spasm. Her hands tightened on her pillow, feeling her nipples harden against her shirt.
He caressed her with wet, rough texture of his tongue, taking his time completely as if he was studying her taste and sensitivity to his touch, looking what gave her the greatest pleasure. She knew he wanted to break her, make her admit that she wanted him.
She couldn't help herself, one of her hands went to his hair, pressing him tighter against her, wanting to feel his tongue deeper. She felt him smile, his hands rubbing steadily over her thighs.
"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, running the tip of his tongue over her clit, making her whole body tremble as she moaned softly. "Do you want me to leave?"
She didn't answer.
She felt him rise from between her thighs, looking at her blankly, wiping his mouth. She swallowed desperately as she saw him begin to buckle his belt back, heading for her door, her mouth dropped open as he grabbed the doorknob.
"− Aemond −" She said softly, silky. He looked at her over his shoulder in surprise, his body shivering at the sound of her voice.
The way she said his name.
His lips parted in disbelief as he saw her roll onto her stomach. Her hand slid down between her thighs, caressing herself slowly with her fingers in circular, slow, wet motions. She moaned softly, looking straight at him, she saw his mouth and fists tighten at the sight.
"− please −" She mewled with her lips slightly parted, speeding up her movements, her whole body trembling and writhing under her hand, close to fulfillment. She saw his lower lip drop, saw how he shivered, looking at what she was doing in front of him.
She knew he was defeated.
He was at her side again in seconds, turning her violently onto her back, undoing and sliding down his pants quickly. They both panted and shivered, clutching each other's bodies tightly, her thighs parting in front of him, wrapping around his waist.
He rooted into her suddenly, firmly and confidently, sliding all the way in. He began to move inside her immediately, quickly and violently, sliding in and out, causing them both to gasp helplessly and moan in pleasure, he slammed against her buttocks with a wet slap of their shared juices each time he thrusted into her again.
"− God, yes −" She moaned with her mouth parted, her hand tightening in his hair, pressing his face to hers, her hips responding greedily to his every thrust.
"− I hate you −" He breathed into her mouth, pressing his forehead against hers, rooting his cock into her so fast and hard that the entire mattress creaked beneath them, their hands clenched tight over their buttocks.
She knew it was quite the opposite.
"− cum inside me −" She whispered tenderly and kissed him hungrily, sucking his lower lip.
He groaned loudly into her mouth, his fingers gripping her hips painfully hard, thrusting into her brutally and so deep that she leaned back, moaning in pleasure, he was panting loudly as he looked down at her, his mouth slightly parted.
"− little birdie −" He whispered helplessly, thrusting his cock into her a few more times and he came inside her, panting low, his hot cum spilling over her warm inside.
She came a moment after him, feeling his seed inside her, moaning in pleasure, clutching him tightly, their bodies writhed beneath each other in spasms for a long time.
Then there was silence between them.
He slided out of her, got up, zipped his pants, and left without a word.
She didn't stop him.
They did not write or talk to each other; she knew that his men patrolled their neighborhood and guarded their house at night. They also tracked down the people who followed her and made them aware of who she now "belonged to."
From then on, they fucked every time he came to their house. She thought she should despise and loathe herself, but she felt oddly calm.
She felt safe for the first time in many years.
She knew his men were watching them all the time. That as long as he wanted her, she and her loved ones were unmovable.
Aemond was like the tip of the iceberg. He represented the entire underground, his older brother, uncle and father, all involved in the most criminal and forbidden transactions in this part of the country. Sometimes when he was lying next to her, naked, pressed against her back, he would whisper in her ear about things that gave her goosebumps.
He wasn't telling her this to scare her. It seemed to her that he was saying this with feigned indifference, but he could no longer bear the burden himself. Sometimes when he told her about the things, that his father forced him to do to get money from someone for debts, she felt sorry not only for the people it happened to, but also for him.
She thought of her father, who though he hurt her, would never involve her in his affairs and protect her as much as he could. In his case it was the other way around.
He has been drawn into this world since he was a child.
She suspected that his missing eye which he kept tightly covered with a eyepatch also resulted from some past run-ins with other gangs.
She had never dared to ask him about it.
She listened to him and just stroked his arms with her fingers, running them up and down. She knew that he came to her not only for fulfillment.
He wanted her tenderness.
He couldn't even get it from the whores or the girls at the club, because he knew that everything would come out. His mask had to remain intact.
Her father quickly noticed that there was something going on between them. He tried to ask her about it several times rather awkwardly.
“I don't believe in such sudden changes out of nowhere. I heard these noises from your room. What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, horrified and frustrated, one morning after Aemond had visited their home again.
"If you dare, tell him he can't stay. But we both know you won't." She said calmly, taking a sip of tea.
She saw his lips tighten, he leaned his hands on the tabletop, sighing heavily, clearly disbelieving what was happening.
She had told him many times that he hadn't hurt her or done anything against her will. Her father had tried to confront Aemond about it, but he had only warned him not to get involved between two adults.
Aemond was teasing him by fucking his daughter under his own roof, but she didn't think that he was doing it out of spite. He was desperate, and she knew he wouldn't speak to her first. He knew he would always find her there, so he stayed because he wanted to spend the night with her.
The sound of the car pulling into their driveway no longer reminded her of that terrible childhood experience, but of him. She felt aroused at the sound, her whole body trembled, she automatically felt the moisture between her thighs.
She never came down to say hello, she was never the first to meet him.
She made him come to her late at night and take what he wanted.
She was always waiting for him naked, only lightly covered with a duvet so as not to get cold. When he came, he would sit next to her and stare at her for a moment, his hand running over her bare skin.
Despite his disposition, he never deliberately hurt her, humiliated her, or forced her to do anything she didn't want to do. He could spend half an hour between her thighs, licking and teasing her, driving her crazy without giving her fulfillment, before he slided inside her and fucked her the way she needed.
She was surprised at how easily her body yielded to his touch, how wonderfully hard she came every time she heard his low voice, his whisper. They said dark, dirty things to each other, moaning and panting, sticky with sweat and exertion.
"You're making me mad on purpose, hm? You won't even grace me with one fucking look." He hissed in her ear, holding her jaw tight, fucking her from behind, holding her in an iron grip, her buttocks hit his thighs with a wet slap, his chest pressed against her back.
He was rooting his cock into her so hard and fast that she couldn't make a sound, his fingers teased her clit, making her sob in despair.
Although she had been on the border when he licked her several minutes earlier, he did not let her come. He was furious that when he came to her house she wouldn't even look at him, pretending that they had nothing in common.
She pursed her lips, her whole body trembling, wanting only relief, her hand gripped his arm which was rubbing her between her thighs. She leaned back, her glossy, lust-filled lips slightly parted.
"I belong only to you." She whispered tenderly, innocently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hand gripped her jaw tighter, his fingers between her thighs starting to speed up with the wet, sticky sound of her juices.
"Oh yeah? And that's how you treat your owner?" He hissed furiously as he fucked her with all his strenght, losing control of himself completely, both of them panted loudly, her buttocks falling against his cock with a wet slap, responding fervently to his every thrust.
"I love you" She sobbed suddenly, helpless, squeezing her eyes shut, her whole body tense and hot from overstimulation.
She heard him gasp in surprise, pressing her tighter against him from behind, sliding in and out of her desperately, moaning with her.
"I…fuck it. Say it again." He mumbled low into her ear, panting heavily with her, his fingers massaging her intensely in circular motions, just the way she liked it. "I'll give you what you want, just say it again"
"I love you, I love you so much, Aemond, please!" She sobbed loudly and moaned, coming hard, orgasm rushing through her in waves, making her unable to hear or see anything for a moment, completely shutting her out.
She heard his loud, low, guttural moan at her words, and then felt him cum inside her, his hot seed spilling into her core. He moved inside her for a moment longer, panting heavily, prolonging his pleasure.
"Is it so hard?" He asked in a whisper, his nose against her cheek, both panting and trembling with emotion. He placed quick, wet, messy kisses on her hot cheek. "Is it so hard to show me a little affection?"
She swallowed hard at his words, felt her heart clench, her hand rose from his arm and stroked his cheek, making him purr sweetly in contentment. She stroked him like that for a moment, letting his mouth caress her face and neck, his soft cock still deep inside her.
In those moments, at the very end when they just held each other, she thought sometimes of suggesting that he could stay with her and sleep in her bed.
She didn't dare and he never asked.
After this physical effort they lay intertwined, calming their breaths, dozing for a moment, stroking each other steadily. He always woke up in the middle of the night, and though sometimes she prayed in her head that he wouldn't leave her, that he would go back to sleep, he always dressed quietly and left, making tears well up in her eyes.
She knew that there was no point in trying to stop him. That they and what they had in common didn't make any sense. That she couldn't get involved.
She guessed that he changed women like gloves and fucked not only her. She knew that if she told him she wanted to stop it, he would accept it. Perhaps he would still have his men guard them because of his business with his father.
She didn't want to stop it. She would never admit it to him, but in his arms, feeling his breath and scent, feeling him deep inside her, she felt safe. She thought that sooner or later, he would get bored and just stop coming to her.
However, several months passed, and he did not stop. What's more, it seemed to her that he made a ritual out of visiting her, which he repeated on certain days of the week.
Sometimes he came more often when something important came up. Even during the day, when he came over to run an errand when he said good-bye he didn't go out the front door. He went upstairs to her and locked himself in with her.
It didn't matter what she was doing, whether she was busy or not. She knew he wouldn't leave, until she went to bed with him.
Her father was distraught by this relationship but could do nothing about it. Now he wasn't talking to her, but she felt it was his own fault. He started this business, he got her mixed up in all this.
She was just adapting to the conditions.
One time, even though he always arrives on Fridays to wrap things up with her father, he didn't show up. She was reading a book about 17th-century France all day, but she couldn't concentrate, still listening to the sound of his tires. She went to sleep that day with tears in her eyes.
She thought that she was a stupid idiot for crying over him. That she knew it would end this way, and she still attached herself to him. She was turning from side to side in her bed, feeling an unpleasant stab in her heart.
In the morning, before the sun had even risen, she heard a loud knock on the front door. Sleepily, she looked at her watch and saw, that it was four in the morning. She heard a few voices downstairs, then someone running quickly up the stairs. Aemond stormed into her room, locking the door in the face of her angry, screaming father.
"Get the fuck out of here! Do you hear me?! You won't just come to my house and fuck my daughter! Get the fuck out!” He screamed, banging on the door. Aemond leaned his shoulders against the door, his head hanging down. She knew that something had happened.
"Dad, come on. Go back to sleep." She said loudly. She slowly got up from the sheets and walked over to him, wearing only her old white T-shirt and panties. She didn't touch him, but saw him flinch at the sound of her voice.
"What's wrong?" She asked quietly, her heart pounding like crazy. She mentally cursed herself for the wonderful feeling of satisfaction and joy that he had arrived. He didn't answer for a long time.
"I killed someone." He spoke low, impassive. She felt her blood freeze, her whole body trembled. She swallowed loudly. "I killed my nephew."
She didn't know what to say to that confession. It didn't seem real to her, she couldn't imagine taking someone's life. She didn't know what she expected; everyone she knew was on their knees in front of him in fear.
For some reason, though, she wasn't terrified; deep down she knew who he was and she didn't try to lie to herself. She was surprised at how calmly she took the news, as if she sensed that sooner or later she would hear it, either from him or from her father.
She hurried back to bed, laying under the covers, looking at him expectantly.
"Come, lie down. You need to calm down. You don't think straight." She whispered softly.
He looked at her, surprised and terrified, she could see that he must have been crying earlier, she had not expected this sight and a powerful shudder went through her.
He walked over to her, mechanically taking off his shoes. He laid down next to her, burying his face in her chest, hugging her back, breathing unevenly and deeply.
“It was an accident." He whispered, his voice trembling at the end of the sentence.
She hugged him tight, entwining her hands in his hair. He pressed against her as if he were drowning, and she was his only saving grace.
"Do you believe me?" He finally asked, his voice empty and tired, her fingers ran gently through his hair.
"Yes." She spoke softly and sincerely. He had no reason to lie to her. She couldn't do anything with her knowledge anyway.
"Can I stay with you?" He asked again, as impassively as before. She buried her face in his hair, inhaling his scent.
"Yes. Try to sleep. Rest.” She whispered.
She wondered why she was so tender with him, why this need to soothe him and calm him down. She thought maybe it was because, of all people on earth, he sought solace and comfort in her arms.
He was like a small, defenseless child, hiding from his mother after breaking a vase, afraid of punishment. She felt his hands slide under her shirt, tightening on the soft, warm skin of her back.
"Leave with me." He said suddenly, and she shivered. A cold sweat covered her.
"What?" She asked quietly, terrified.
"Leave with me." He repeated, tightening his fingers on her body, his lips kissing her breast through the fabric of her shirt. She felt her nipples harden at the sensation. She swallowed loudly.
"You said yourself there's no escape from it." She whispered, running her fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head once in a while. "What about the police? Are they after you?”
She felt him chuckle in her arms at her words.
“I have the police in my hand. Bribable pigs. Witnesses saw Luke run under the car himself, when he was running from me. I didn't push him." He spoke low, his voice trembling again at the last sentence. She hugged him tighter.
"I know. I believe you." She said softly, sighing in relief that it really sounded like an accident.
She thought with horror that she had deceived herself, that she thought, she was different from her father. That she can get away from all of it. Now she saw that she was lying to herself.
That she was steeped in all this since she was a child. That there is no escape from it. She thought that he had seen it in her from their first meeting. That she can really understand him.
"Will you stay with me? Will you be by my side?" He asked uncertainly. She thought there was a note of desperation in his voice.
He was lonely and distraught that everyone was pretending in front of him, they were afraid of him or wanted what he had - power, money, goods. Only she was bold enough to stand up to him. To tell him, what she thinks of him.
She was his truth.
He hated her for that, and at the same time he constantly desired her. He was satisfied only with her, only in her. She unconsciously smiled at his question.
"Yes."
______
You've received the series so well, that it will have an epilogue, set several months after the events of this chapter. Thank you so much for all the kinds words and comments! 💖
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
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Others: @okfashionista @abrielletargaryen
#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#aemond x you#hotd aemond#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x y/n#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#modern aemond angst#dark aemond angst#aemond targeryen angst#aemond angst#hotd angst#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#hotd smut#aemond smut#modern aemond smut#ewan mitchell smut#aemond one eye#aemond the kinslayer#house of the dragon aemond#prince aemond#aemond x fem!oc#aemond x reader#modern aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x you
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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 29
Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.
Previous part
Part 29: the aftermath
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blackwater lunged at me, hands enclosing around my throat. I couldn't move. My limbs wouldn't listen. I was helpless as he pressed harder still. I needed to breathe. Needed to move. Get off!
Alastor's presence yanked me into the ground. Blackwater clambered after me. His voice was a horrible screeching sound, like a combination of all different voices pitched at different tones.
"Wake up!"
My eyes snapped open to Husker's face. I abruptly drew in a sharp, long breath like I hadn't breathed in hours. I whined as I sucked in and expelled the precious air.
Every muscle in my body hurt. Husker was holding me up with both hands but even the muscles I weren't using were painfully sore. My head was aching too. It wasn't a migraine; something heavier.
"Welcome back." Husker gave a nervous smile. I looked around to see I was in my old room.
"Holy hell toots, you almost died there," Angel said from the other side of the bed. My ear flicked up and turned. My mouth dropped slightly open in a look of shock. "What? What'd I say?" he asked nervously.
I tilted my head, careful with how sore my neck muscles were, and flicked my ear again. No. That wasn't possible. I looked to Husker for help.
"Is it your hearing?" he prompted. I tried to speak but it turned into a painful coughing fit. He lifted a hand from my arm to snap his fingers by that ear. I heard nothing and my ear barely reacted. "You or Althea can heal it, don't worry."
I had Angel magic. Of course I could heal it. Right?
"Alastor," I croaked. My lips were cracked and my throat was dry, all scratchy, and sore.
"He's fine," Husker said, bringing a cold glass of water to my lips. I found it nearly impossible to lift my arms. I could move them a hair but lifting was an entirely different struggle. "You're in far worse shape than him."
After I drank the whole glass, he helped me lay back down. I tried lifting my arms again and found I could but with a great deal of effort. They felt like they had anvils tied to them.
"What's wrong with me?" I asked, voice finally returning. It felt hard to focus on anything, like my mind was all over the place. I let out a wide yawn.
"You really pushed your limits." Husker pushed my hair to the side so it wasn't in my face.
"The factory...people might've survived."
"No one survived. Alastor told us where it was and Charlie teleported us. It was miles under the water by the time we got there."
I looked up at the ceiling. It felt like I was barely clinging to coherent thoughts. "Other factories."
"We'll hit them one by one. There's an Overlord meeting tomorrow night."
"How long have I been asleep?" I had to restart the sentence a few times just to make it coherent.
"A couple days. You've been through—"
The door creaked open and Alastor's red ears poked in. His worried expression turned into a smile as we made eye contact. He crossed the room to where Husker was sitting on the edge of the bed. I noticed his walk was slow, almost calculated, and his cane sounded heavier on the wood. He had a bandage around his head but he still wore his normal attire. Always proper. Always put together. Always Alastor.
Husker stood up to allow him to sit, leaving with Angel to grab food for me. Alastor ran the back of a single claw along my cheek. I turned my head into it, my hands heavy over my stomach and unable to move from the covers. He turned his hand to let his palm rub gently on my skin.
"I am glad to see you awake." His radio filter was off and his voice sounded deeper and more crackly. It must be from the screaming when they tried to operate on him.
"You're okay," was all I could say. The world was at a strange, slight slant and the colors of the room seemed vibrant. I was really starting to lose it.
"That is the second time you've saved me, darling." He planted a kiss on my forehead. "I suppose you aren't as useless as you once were."
I chuckled, pain pinching my lungs as I did so. I opened my mouth and took several seconds to form my sentence. "Poor way of saying thank you."
"Perhaps this will suffice?" He pressed a gentle kiss on my lips. My muscles relaxed and I wished he would press just a tad bit harder. He reached out with his presence to interlace with mine.
He said something else but I didn't hear at first. The second time I heard but couldn't understand. The third I simply just couldn't comprehend anything. He said something different and placed a kiss on my forehead, pushing his weight on his cane to help him stand.
My hands didn't work and my mind was all over the place. I let out a loud whine as he turned to leave. I licked my dry lips and gave him a desperate look. Please understand what I'm asking, even if I don't.
To my great relief, he walks around the bed and sits on the vacant side. I used what little energy I have to shuffle closer so my nose is up against his coat. He smelled like a bonfire, a sweet one. His gentle claws thread through my hair and around my horns, carefully scratching in all the right spots.
I was asleep within seconds.
****
"Darling, I don't think it's wise for you to attend this meeting," Alastor tried gently. We were pushing the time, risking the chance of being late to the Overlord meeting with Lucifer. I had managed to stand on my own to dress myself but I was far from recovered, one might even argue that I shouldn't even be awake.
"I need to get rid of Blackwater's soul," I told him, clipping the necklace of his crest around my neck. I wore the same black and red attire I had previously to this type of meeting: a gorgeous red dress with white lining on the hem.
"Then we request Lucifer to visit. You should be resting right now." He placed one hand on my hip and the other on my cheek. He was smiling but his eyes showed concern. My hearing was still broken on the one side. Althea couldn't heal it but there was still a chance that I could with my Angelic magic.
"They need to see me there," I argued, "They need to see me give his soul to Lucifer. I just..." I teetered slightly and he pulled me close to keep me upright. "I need your energy when I do. Please."
His eyes examined my face, pupils shifting slightly as he did. Our magic hadn't separated since I woke up so I was reading into his exact thoughts and feelings. He knew I was right but his concern and care was trying to overwhelm it. I ran one hand up his spine and felt him calm surprisingly fast.
I laid my cheek on his chest and said quietly, "I want your help."
That did it.
He agreed with a heavy sigh and helped me walk through the house. Using shadows made my head spin so he didn't dare try to travel like that. Teleporting was its own problem, the motion spiking a migraine and making my limbs buzz in a funny way. I clung to him, taking a slow, grounding breath before walking through the palace doors.
The last of the Overlords entered the large room. My claws tapped on the tile floor and I clung tighter to Alastor's arm. He was walking slowly for me on purpose. Everything I did had to have intent, my limbs feeling like heavy magnets. Heads turned as we walked in and followed as Alastor led me to Lucifer's chair, the King of Hell standing with a smile.
His smile turned to surprise as I carefully knelt on one knee, hand extended upward. Charlie had given him a heads up about taking Blackwater's soul from me. He had plagued my sleep and even my waking mind. Even now he was trying to claw his way up through my thinned magic.
"Let's take that soul off your hands," Lucifer said smoothly, hand touching mine. I drew on Alastor's energy as I pulled Blackwater through my shields. Lucifer stood beside me in my mind space and waited. Blackwater made a run for me but barely got halfway when Lucifer's gold magic enclosed around him. I drew on more energy from Alastor to help solidify Blackwater's soul in order for Lucifer to take him from me.
A moment later, I blinked my eyes open to Lucifer's black boots. I lifted my head as he withdrew his hand, gold sparks fading away. The strain on my magic from holding Blackwater was gone and it felt like a heavy weight had just been lifted off my chest.
Thankfully Alastor was keeping me upright and practically lifted my entire weight to my feet. He then led me to his vacant chair and stood beside me, arms folded behind his back. Granted I was physically weak but such a motion was shocking from him, even the other Overlords didn't seem to know what to think of it.
"Well, uh, this certainly brings things full circle," Lucifer started, sitting down in his black and red seat, "but we need to ensure all of his assets are destroyed. Especially since we've lost four surface Overlords."
The conversation carried on for an hour. The Overlords fought over who would attack what factory and several attempts to gain more territory. The fighting was annoying and Lucifer repeatedly told them to settle territory claiming at the surface. Fortunately, everyone was engrossed in the conversation and failed to notice my nodding off. Alastor would consistently touch my shoulder to keep me upright and wake me up. Everything felt very heavy and my muscles ached from the strain. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to curl up against Alastor's side and fall asleep for hours.
Eventually, to my great relief, the meeting came to an end. The Overlords filed out of the room but Vox lingered, scowling, and holding my eyes for a moment too long. Alastor stepped up to block my view from him and helped me up to my feet. I hooked my arm around his and thanked Lucifer for taking Blackwater's soul. The King of Hell himself gave his own kind of bow and thanked me for it.
Alastor led me to the front of the palace doors before teleporting back up to the surface. My knees buckled as soon as my feet hit the ground, Alastor's other arm moving at lightning speed to catch me. I gripped at his shirt, fearing I would tear it, as my fingers slipped against the fabric when he hoisted me back up.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, suddenly unable to keep my eyes open all the way.
Alastor banished his cane and reached down, lifting my legs up so he was carrying me bridal style. My hand grabbed the spot near his neck as I leaned my weight into him. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit his shoulder. The smell of his cedarwood, smokey scent was like a sleeping drug. I hadn't realized I had fallen asleep until I was being placed on soft sheets and warm covers pulled up to my shoulder.
I pried my tired eyes open as Alastor straightened up. Everything about his form, from his chest, to his ears, to his antlers, to his face, everything was gratifyingly appealing. Once upon a time I had hated him. Once upon a time I wanted nothing more than to be an ocean away from him. Now, I could barely handle him being in a different room.
"Don't leave," I mumbled as he walked away. My nerves abated slightly at the sight of his room.
He chuckled. "I am coming to join you, my love." He walked to the other side of the bed and, with a snap of his fingers, changed out of his usual suit and into a plain black long sleeve and pants. He climbed in bed as elegantly as ever and shifted close.
"Why always a long sleeve?" My words were starting to slur together. I sounded drunk.
"Does it bother you?" he questioned amusingly. He positioned himself so that his arm was under my head. I hooked my arm on his opposing side and tried to pull myself onto my side. He pulled me the rest of the way until I was leaning my face on his shoulder, tail wrapping comfortably around his ankle.
"I like your skin," I slurred once again, hand lazily reaching up to touch his cheek. I loved seeing his genuine smile. He snapped his fingers and the fabric on my cheek disappeared. I reached my hand further down to touch his other arm, skin as smooth as I thought. My smile grew.
"Time for sleep, my love," he kissed my forehead and brought my hand to rest on his chest, his own laying on top of mine. I was asleep within seconds.
****
It took a full week in order for the heaviness to go away. I was still incredibly tired all the time, stealing naps left and right where I could. Althea couldn't necessarily heal anything, and neither could I, aside from my one ear, since it was mostly all mental health. My soul was trying to regenerate its energy and no one except myself could do that. It was aggravating to deal with since it was very time consuming.
Althea was determined for me to sleep even more than what I was doing already. She was having me take long walks with Reagan, Vivian, or Vilcin. The more tired I was, the more I would sleep, the faster I would heal. That was Althea's train of thought, anyways.
I managed to evade her one cool evening and hide away in Alastor's room. I opened the window and curled up with pillows, the familiar red blanket, and my sketchbook. I was extremely content. The salty, cool summer breeze brushed softly on my face as I sketched Alastor from memory. It felt like things couldn't get bad, though I knew in the back of my mind there was always a chance.
For now, I was happy.
I did several rough sketches of him before attempting a more detailed one. I played with blending the led then did a loose sketch with a pen overtop. It turned out better than I thought and attempted it a second time before calling it quits. I was losing the sunlight.
Finally I finished and let out a huge yawn, stretching out my limbs and cracking my spine back in place. I leaned back into the pillows comfortably.
"Is that me?"
I jumped at the sound of his voice directly in my ear. I snapped the book to my side, out of view. "When did you come in?" I asked in bewilderment, mostly from embarrassment.
"That's quite stunning artwork," he ignored my question, standing up with his arms behind his back. I closed the sketchbook and the window. "Come now, darling, it was meant as a compliment." He placed his claw gently on my shoulder. Alcine and his shadow sprouted on the wall to look at each other.
"Thank you." I gripped the edges of the sketchbook tightly.
He leaned down and gave me a sweet, gentle kiss. "You may continue, I will do my own work." He unclipped his coat and casted it on the bed. My eyes refused to leave his slim form until his gaze fell on me. I pretended to look out the dark window.
I stayed like that for awhile, the sound of his pen scratching on paper and the fire popping were the only noises I could hear. It felt peaceful again.
I grew cold by the window, though, and after drawing the curtain closed, I went to stand in front of the fire. Alastor's mind wrapped tighter around mine as I did but he didn't move. Staring at his back, I realized this was the first time he was actually keeping his back to me for a long time. He was almost always facing me or if his was back was to me it was only for a moment.
I felt the trust as much as he felt my realization of it.
The warmth of the fire was better than magic warmth. I kept my palms open to the orange glow and let it soothe the aching muscles in my back. I would need to sit soon. Standing still took some effort.
I found myself staring at Alastor's back. A moment later, I had stepped forward and touched his broad shoulder.
He flinched.
I retracted my hand.
His smile was strained as he turned sharply to me. I held my hand tight against my stomach and covered by my other one. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."
He let out a visible sigh, shoulders and eyebrows relaxing. His eyes jumped to my tightly clasped hands.
"I'll uh...I'll ask next time." I took a step away.
"That would be preferred." He held out his hand, as if asking me to take it. He waited, outstretching it further when I didn't move from my restrained position.
Finally, feeling his nerves dissipating in his mind, I gradually extended my arm and let him wrap his long, red claws around my small hand. He pulled me closer and placed a soft kiss on my fingers.
"I'm sorry," I said again.
"It was unexpected. I was focused." He brought my fingers up to his cheek and tilted his head so he was leaning on them. "Perhaps you will continue now that I am aware."
He placed my hand on his shoulder, right in the spot between it and his neck, and turned back to his papers. I ran my hand across the back of his neck, to the other shoulder, back again, then into his hair. I felt the suppressed groan.
I scratched in the spot between his antlers and watched the pen fall from his fingers. He was still for the most part as I continued, now using both hands to scratch along the base of his ears.
When my fingers started to get tired, I dared a light touch down the back of his neck. His whole body shivered and his ears fell sideways instead of backwards like they usually did.
"You will be the death of me, my dear." He took my hand and placed another kiss on it.
As he looked up to meet my eyes, I came down to kiss him on the lips. His ears shot back up in surprise. My hand shook as I brought it up to touch his cheek, the exact same gesture he always did for me.
He grabbed the bottom of my chin and pulled away. "Is there something you are looking for, dear?" he asked sweetly.
Unbeknownst to him, I saw what he wanted from me. His nerves were just as high as mine but I felt his mind pulling me closer and closer.
"What I'm looking for is right in front of me." I moved to stand more in front of the chair, squished between it and the table with my legs against his, and put both hands on the armrests.
"Is that so, love?" He hooked a sharp claw under my chin to pull me closer. I leaned my weight on my arms as he drew me in for another kiss. His teeth dampened save for a set of canines so he could slip his tongue into my mouth. The word dominating came to mind.
His hand moved to the back of my head as the other grabbed at my waist, pulling hard. I put one knee on the side of the cushion to shift my weight off my arms. His hand on my head moved down to the other side of my waist and did the same. I swallowed my nerves, and some of his saliva, as I brought my other knee up so I was straddling him in a way.
My hands were on either side of his neck, right in the soft spot before his shoulder started, but his hands moved to the armrests. His claws punctured the wood as his tongue did all the pulling to keep us close.
I could hear his concerns, feel the effort it was taking, and see his eyebrows furrowed together. I grabbed his wrists, the surprise a jolt of energy between us, and moved them to my thighs just as he had done with my hands on his neck.
He pulled away from the kiss, breath heavy. "You mustn't feel pressured," he offered.
I rubbed my thumb across his cheek, earning a fleeting glance from his beady eyes, and answered with, "Read my thoughts, Al. I want to try again."
"Then you will show me what you desire, love. I will do nothing else."
I'm sure he meant it in a touching way, but it made me nervous to show him where I wanted him to try touching. Perhaps it was more embarrassment then anything.
He leaned off the back of the chair with his usual smile, lips a hair from my own and waiting. I pressed into the kiss as my hands moved up his neck and into his hair. This time he moaned. It made a strange twisting feeling in my gut, the vibrations reaching through my lips and into my head.
My tail wrapped several times around one of his legs as I pressed harder, shoving his head into the back of the chair. I carefully brought my claws down his neck, over the soft fabric, down his arms, and gripped his hands. I breathed into the kiss as I plucked them off my thighs and placed them on my back, under my shirt.
He splayed his hands so his entire palms were touching my skin. His claws felt cold but his palms felt insanely warm. I felt a different kind of heat suffocating my chest and daring to go lower.
I trust you not to hurt me. I sent him directly.
I couldn't imagine such a thing, my darling. He answered. Though when fleeting images of my first year with him came to the forefront, he added, Not anymore.
His palms moved methodically up and down my back, occasionally letting his claws leave a red line or two. Meanwhile I was fighting him with my equally long tongue. I had my hands behind his head as I tilted my own to the side to reach further in. All I was seeing was red and green. All I was feeling was hot warmth. All I was tasting was him.
The kissing turned aggressive once he bit my tongue enough to draw blood. He sucked on the sweet liquid before moving to my neck. His magic came a hair too late to dull the pain of the bite and as retaliation I squeezed his ear too hard. He winced and dulled the pain in appeasement, teeth still buried in my neck.
He licked up my blood as his claws dared to cause even more to spill. I put my own claws on the back of his neck, ready to puncture the vulnerable spot if he drew too much.
His arms suddenly wrapped around me and he stood. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him despite him carrying nearly my entire weight with ease. He moved to the bed and laid me on my back, attacking my neck once again. The pressure from his weight on my chest was a new feeling.
"Not all the way," I breathed.
Of course, my love, he answered. But your blood is oh so addicting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:
aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist:
@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette
#demi demon#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#soulmate au#soulmates#reqs open#hazbin husk
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Morning routine (Zosan X Reader)
Zoro X sanji x Reader, poly relationship headcannons. GN reader, established relationship. The other straw hat's are in it too i had to look up their sleeping schedule :)
Warning: bad Language, a little bit of violence (at the hands of Nami of cause) and Fluff, lots of Fluff
I don't know if i explained it properly about the seating of the straw hat crew so i'll put it at the bottom in case.
^ Your shared room with the boys has one of the biggest beds on the ship beside Robins and Nami's, thank the gods for that, Sanji can be quite clingy to whoever is closest while Zoro sprawl's out taking up most of the bed.
^ Mornings start out slow for Zoro, Sanji is always up early in order to get breakfast ready for the crew but he never leaves without kissing you both on the forehead, if it's a cold morning he will lay an extra blanket on the two of you before leaving.
^ On the rare occasion that you wake up first, either because of a bad night sleep or Zoro's loud snoring (you thought you would be used to it by now but some times its too much), you don't stay in bed for too long deciding to sneak out of bed making sure both boys are covered by the duvet before making you way to the kitchen.
^ Your usually the second or third one up of the morning, you cover up Zoro and fix his pillows for him before leaving the room. The first thing you like to do is get a hot cup of coffee/tea and read the news paper that was delivered that morning.
^ If Sanji is up first he will gladly give you whatever you want for breakfast, giving you complements on whatever choice you make and kissing your cheek sending you on your way to the table. Its quiet in the kitchen from then on, only the sound of Sanji cooking, flipping of the new's paper pages and the waves outside. its a rare moment on the sunny but you both enjoy it.
^ If your up first, you read the news and drink your coffee/tea alone at the kitchen counter, it feels nice to have a moment to yourself. When Sanji comes in most of the time you don't even know since your in your own little world. He comes up behind you and lightly wraps his arms around your waist while burying his head in your neck, breathing in your scent before saying "good morning my love". Depending on how needy he's feeling that morning this can last either a short while or half an hour, but he has to start making breakfast so lets you go and walks you over to your seat at the end of the table closest to the door.
^ Slowly but surely the others of the crew wake up, it's usually Brook who comes in and just gets a cup of tea taking a seat at the other end of the table, he asks about both your nights and then it's silent again but a nice silent, Brook enjoying the quiet morning with the two of you until Robin comes in.
^ Sanji smiles and greets her, hearts in his eyes and offers her a cup of tea or coffee and food. she giggles and accepts sitting next to you and greeting you with a good morning. Sanji practically glides over to Robin and places her food and drink down "For the lady" he says with a big smile.
^ You find it funny how he fawns over the girls on the ship while you laughing makes him blush like crazy and panic a little, "As much as i love you Robin my dear, i only have eyes for two people" Sanji says in almost a defensive way, every morning this happens and it makes both you and Robin laugh "Its ok, i know you love me, i find it sweet how you treat Robin and Nami, every girl should feel looked after" you words make Sanji relax and give you a loving smile, the embarrassed blush on his face fading into a light pink blush.
^ Once the drama is over you and Robin read the news togeather, on occasion talking about it until Zoro and Chopper walk in. Zoro looks half asleep while Chopper seems wide awake. They both say good morning, Chopper climbing into the chair next to Robin and asking about how the two of you are.
^ Zoro walks over to you and places a kiss on you cheek and running a hand threw your hair before going around to get a cup of coffee from the kitchen. While its brewing he walks up behind Sanji and wraps his arms around the cooks waist, letting out a small huff "What's for breakfast?" Zoro asks his head berried in Sanji's shoulder. They have a small conversation with Zoro almost falling asleep again but Sanji jabs him awake with his elbow earning a mean response e.g "Shitty Cook" or "Fuck you" Sanji usually replying with a smile "You know you love me"
^ Zoro huffs and takes his coffee saying under his breath "Yea i do". He sits down in front of Robin drinking his coffee like it was his life line, "How was your watch last night?" you ask gaining his attention, he lets out a sigh "Quiet like normal", you smile knowing Zoro loves a good fight and tends to look for one when he can. Robin lets out a laugh "Well im glad, i wouldn't want some other pirates or bandits boarding the ship and killing us in our sleep" she says with such a sweet smile
^ Chopper freaks out when ever she says stuff like that and so would usopp if he was awake to hear it. You, Nami and Fanky are usually the ones who have to calm them down, or in Nami's case knock some sense into them. After you clam down chopper, you give him the cross word puzzle in the news paper to do and a pencil.
^ Sanji comes over with his own food and Zoro's placing it down and sitting next to Zoro at the end of the table across form you. "Causing trouble again my dear Robin?" Sanji asks with a small laugh already knowing the answer. Things go back to normal after that, Robin helping Chopper with the cross word while Zoro and Sanji have a talk occasionally asking you to solve a debate between the two. Sanji lights a cigarette and lets out a puff of smoke seeming to relax, he can relax for a little while now just spending time with the less noisy people form his crew. Sanji leans over and places his head on Zoro's shoulder, even though they fight you know they love each other. This lovely moment always hold a special place in your heart, the three of you enjoying a nice morning togeather.
^ All good things come to an end when Luffy wakes up and usually brings Nami with him mainly scolding him for waking her up. They enter the kitchen with smiles, Nami's more sinister than actually happy "Morning love birds" she says looking at the three of you, she loves teasing you three about things but its all light-hearted and she always seem's to find a way to make you blush about it.
^ Luffy's first words of the morning are always "SANJI, WHAT'S FOR BREAKFAST?" and most of the time he ends up getting hit over the head by Nami "People are still sleeping" she sighs walking to take a seat next to chopper. "Nami-swan, What can i get you this morning?" Sanji gets up smiling and spinning around hoping to please the lady with his food. Zoro huffs at this not liking the way Sanji's attention is on some one else .
^ Zoro still isn't a fan of the way Sanji acts around women but he keeps his moth shut, there are times when he does lose it and they have a small argument about it before having an angry make out session. Honestly what are you to do with the two of them? you place your hand on Zoro's from across the table making him look at you, you give him a smile trying to calm him. he takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over you knuckles.
^ After Luffy recovers from Nami's punch he jumps up and takes a seat at the bar chanting about food "Go sit at the table luffy it'll be ready in a minute" Sanji almost yells making Luffy pout but taking a seat at the head of the table.
^ Sanji serves Nami first presenting it and complementing on how she looks this morning. you feel your hand being squeezed harder by Zoro making you jump slightly. Zoro doesn't seem to notice you flinch but just glares at Sanji annoyed at the attention he is showing the girl. As Sanji begins to move Zoro looks away letting go of your hand slightly, you can feel the blood flow return to your hand and let out a sigh. This catches Sanji's attention and walks over placing a hand on your should and kissing your cheek. you lean into it and place your other hand over his looking up at him and then back to Zoro giving Sanji the hit that Zoro isn't happy.
^ The other continue to eat as Luffy groans in impatience tearing Sanji away form you and Zoro "I know, i Know. i'll get it now luffy" He sighs getting a massive plate of food and placing it in front of Luffy who looks at with lust. Sanji walks away as Luffy gobbles it down abandoning the knife and fork he was holding onto moment before.
^ Around this time Usopp and Franky usually wake up so instead of sitting down Sanji walks over and puts out his cigarette before placing both his hands on Zoro's shoulders and starting to massage them, Zoro tense's up at the sudden touch but soon relax's into it. The smile on your face grows at the two of them and Zoro no longer being upset. Sanji leans down next to Zoro's ear and whispers something that makes your swords man show a cocky smile. Sanji flashes you a smile and Zoro brings your hand up to his lips giving it a kiss. You have no idea what Sanji says to Zoro and the men refuse to tell you even when you beg.
^ The moment ends when Usopp and Franky walk in, poor Usopp always seems to get embarrassed when seeing the three of you togeather in an intimate moment, he covers his eyes and apologizes while Franky just gives you three a thumbs up and a big "SUPPER". "Calm down usopp their always like this" Nami states earning a giggle from Robin and a big laugh from Luffy making Usopp's face get redder. "I think it's cute" Chopper perks up making Zoro blush and hide his face in his hand. You and sanji let out a laugh hearingZzoro curse under his breath, "sit down i'll get you some breakfast" Sanji says giving zoro's shoulder a light squeeze before walking away.
^ You get up and sit next to Zoro, Franky taking your seat to sit next to Robin. You wrap your arm around Zoro's free arm and try to pull his hand off his face "There's no need to be embarrassed, the others are all occupied now" you whisper succeeding in removing his hand from his face. The two of you drive Zoro crazy and there are so many things he wants to say and do with you two but he's secretly scared of what other people think of him. Zoro ends up giving in to his own needs and shoves his face into your neck laying his head on your shoulder, you raise a hand and stroke his hair.
^ After the last of the food is served and drinks are filled Sanji joins you two again take the seat on the other side of Zoro. Zoro feels his presence and reaches under the table to take Sanji's hand. Sanji smiles and takes his hand sipping on his coffee and then trying to light another cigarette but doing it with one hand is hard so you offer to help out. You take his lighter and light the cigarette for him. he takes a big puff and blows it out before taking the lighter back and kissing your hand "Thank you my love" he says with a smile.
^ Mornings always go the same way no matter what. the three of you enjoying time togeather with your crew and even though there are some bumps you three love each other with all your hearts, the crew are happy for you three and support the hell out of it. some show it more than others though.
seating:
starting off from the door and closest to the wall. reader (Later Franky), Robin, Chopper, Nami. head of table is of cause Luffy. leading round to the other side of the table is Usopp, Brook, empty (later sanji), Zoro, Sanji (later reader).
I hope you enjoyed. this is my first one piece x reader and im planning on doing more Sanji X Zoro X reader. Thank you for reading. :)
#sanji x zoro#zoro x sanji#one piece#zoro x reader#sanji x reader#polly relationship#imagine#one piece headcanons
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two possibilities
Sith!Luke Skywalker x fem!reader
summary: this evening Lord Skywalker has something very specific in mind
cw: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, power imbalance, unhealthy relationship, manhandling minors dni!!!
A/N: this is my first time ever writing smut and I'm so nervous about posting it, please be kind, I'm really doing my best :(
His heavy steps make you jolt awake in an instant.
From where you were dozing on the soft rug in front of his bed you have yet to spot Lord Skywalker but are able to hear him well, your senses attuned to every sound of his, no matter how small it may be.
Your breath catches in your throat and, not daring to release it, you listen closely to his movements; occasionally you're lucky and they tell you something about his mood before he can catch you off guard.
What is he doing?
Curiously craning your neck you try to get a glimpse of him next door but all you can see is his dark cape being thrown from one side of the room to the other where it lands with a heavy thud.
Immediately two very different possibilities flash before your inner eye; he's either furious or horny.
Your brain screams at you to get up, get up, get up, get up and you just barely manage to untangle your sleepy limbs from the fuzzy blanket when he rounds the corner, his hungry eyes searching for you.
Oh. It's clear what it's going to be tonight.
You sink back in relief.
"Wel-Welcome back, my L-"
He doesn't even let you finish before easily picking you up and throwing you upon his bed, his burning gaze not once leaving your blushing face as he frees his hard and already leaking cock.
He's on you in an instant, covering your mouth with his, unceremoniously shoving his tongue past your lips.
With a sigh he begins rutting his hips against your still clothed pussy, deepening the kiss when you shyly start to reciprocate his movements.
"Oh, little one, I have been thinking about this all day.", he tells you, before dragging you into another scorching kiss.
Only when you begin to struggle, desperate to come up for air, does he manage to rein himself back in and releases you with a wet sucking sound that echoes around the room.
Looking you over attentively, his hot breath fans across your face when he speaks.
"Have you been waiting here for me? Mmh?"
Wide eyed you nod; you did wait for him, just the way you know he likes it.
One of his hands teasingly snakes in between your legs and he gives a hum of satisfaction when he finds your panties slightly damp with arousal.
"Such a good girl, you'll make me feel so good tonight, I know it."
His voice is rough with lust as he reinforces his words by once again thrusting his hips forward, moaning loudly at the sensation.
"You want it too, don't you? To let me cum inside of you as many times as I want to? To make me feel good?"
"Yes.", you blabber dumbly, eager to please him. "I want to- I wanna make you cum. Please cum inside of m-me."
"You do, huh?"
Feigning intimacy he smiles and leans close to whisper in your ear.
"It's not like you have a choice, sweetheart."
He draws back and impatiently pats your hip, signaling something you, through your excited haze, don't understand.
You do your best to rearrange your limbs, dazedly making a move to undress yourself but when you lift your arms to pull up your top, he stops you with a sigh.
Faster than you can think he scoops an arm underneath your back and easily manhandles you into position on all fours before him.
You are confused, does he not want you naked?
You try again, which earns you a stinging slap to your right ass cheek and a sharp reprimand.
"Behave."
You still immediately as your world narrows down to him and his touch alone.
Lord Skywalker gently moves the crotch of your underwear aside to press a finger inside of you.
"You know the rules, little one. Hold still, don't talk, and I'll make this pleasurable for you as well."
Every bit of air is pushed out of your chest, your mouth falling open as you try to adjust to the sudden intrusion.
You didn't think you were wet enough to take all of it yet but your body gives way easily as he slowly shifts his finger around to stroke your walls, before gently withdrawing and pumping back in repeatedly.
Each little movement makes you jump and by the time he's inserting a second digit, his spare arm has to reach beneath your chest to keep you upright.
His fingers are so very big and long, so skilled, and it does not take long for you to moan out around them helplessly.
As he allows you to grind back into them, you feel as if already you could fall apart right here and now.
Desperately you want to beg, for him to go deeper, faster, anything, but you know better than that and wisely keep your mouth shut.
To antagonize him now, to egg him on, would only result in punishment and suffering.
Instead you place your trust in his own lust and impatience to keep him from playing with you for too long and are proven right not long after.
The mattress dips under his weight as he shifts positions, and you can feel the much larger head of his cock nudging the entrance in between your wet folds.
With your heart racing you try to spread your legs even wider.
His hands roughly kneed your ass cheeks, pulling them far apart to get a good long look at your dripping core, before sliding forward to grip your waist, pulling you closer towards him.
Anxious to give him better access and to make it easier for your body as well, you arch your back as far as it will go and steady yourself as he lines himself up, as he presses forward antagonizingly slowly.
With gritted teeth you endure the burning slide until the tip finally pops in and you gasp, your Lord releasing a low moan above you.
As always his size overwhelmes you.
Despite the regularity in which he claims you it's nearly too much.
Involuntarily you clench down hard around his cock, and breathe a sigh of relief when it makes him release a quick hiss of pleasure.
Yet you beg your body to relax again; your Lord is far away from being fully sheathed inside of you and he can and will take more, not always caring whether you are ready to as well.
This time though, surprisingly, he stops the penetration just short of it becoming too much for you to handle and instead begins to lazily push in and out, giving you the chance to adjust.
You are whimpering helplessly by the time he's fully seated, completely impaled and trembling as your walls flex almost violently around the thick intrusion.
You can’t seem to catch your breath, a slight sheen of sweat already covering your entire body.
Slowly the Sith is stilling his movements and reaches forward to soothingly stroke your hair and rub your back.
It's a gesture of good will.
An acknowledgement of your weaker form.
You try to speak, to let him know you recognize it as what it is, to let him know how thankful you are.
"Th-tha... thank y..." but instead you break off in a languid cry, hanging your head, when he quickly drapes himself over you to bite at your neck in warning.
"No. Speaking.", he murmurs lowly before straightening up again.
Contemplatively he draws out his throbbing cock before slowly pushing it back in, not hard but enough to make you grapple for something to hold on to.
The next thrust is much the same: powerful but subdued.
The third hits a spot that wrenches a loud cry of sheer pleasure out of you.
Your Lord hits it again and again, and now you are being tossed forward with it, giddily taking each thrust you are given as the rhythm grows quick and even.
Eliciting a steady burst of ecstasy up your spine that leaves you far more vocal than you are comfortable with, you are wracked with tremors and slowly but surely grow dizzy with it.
He slows down after a while, taking his time to carefully readjust your position and the strong hold he has on your waist.
At first, not understanding what's happening you fear he's going to stop altogether.
Are you not satisfactory?
You won't be able to bear it if he leaves you like this, gaping and aching for more.
"Pl- please...", you choke out, in your desparation forgetting about his warning from earlier.
"Pleaseee..."
His response is a mocking laugh and the next thrust is so hard it makes you choke and nearly topple over.
"Is that want you want? Huh?"
The next follows immediately after, just as fast and just as hard.
Unbelievably the pace quickens, and suddenly you are being fucked at a relentless rhythm with brutal strength; too fast for you to even cry out with with each time he slams into you, you turn into one long litany of noises.
Again you feel him draping himself over your body, covering you whole, his heavy weight pressing you into the mattress.
You are so, so wet, sure you are dripping and leaking against his pants and all over the sheets, whining for it, tears prickling the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.
His strength is staggering, his skill merciless and despite everything you have experienced so far there is nothing to compare it to.
Each thrust is perfectly angled to overstimulate with how his hips are jerking forward and his large hands tightly clasping your body, leaving bruises in their wake wherever they go.
Your skin feels hot and feverish, your body bristling with heat.
You couldn't escape if you wanted to, couldn’t even think of it.
The loud slapping sounds almost drown out your pleas and the blood pounding in your ears.
Lord Skywalker seems to have no expiration, he never so much as slows, and you wonder if he could do this endlessly.
You know, however, that you can’t.
You are weak, already close to passing out, and finally you let your tears flow freely, fully submitting to his will.
He hears your sobs and his left arm tightens around your waist to hoist you up against his chest, holding you close.
His free hand slips into the front of your panties and cups your heat closely, before he starts methodically rubbing your clit to the beat of his fucking.
Your trembling doubles, and barely a few thrusts later you shriek your release, your muscles and stomach clenching.
Your vision blurs as your eyes roll back into your head, your mind seemingly leaving your body behind.
The Sith doesn't stop his movements, simply fucking you through your orgasm until after another minute there come several audible grunts and you can feel the rush of hot liquid filling you up.
Lord Skywalker pounds that out too, then slows, stills, and finally, lets go of you.
You collaps onto your front instantly.
His big cock slides free and you hit the mattress panting for air, everything around you spinning.
In slow trickles his cum is leaking out of you but you're too tired to move away from the big stain your combined bodily fluids created and, as it turns out, you don't get a chance to either, as suddenly you are grabbed by your ankles and easily flipped around to lay on your back.
Through eyes heavy lidded and dark with lust your Lord drinks in your helpless picture, already and, unbelievably so, fully erect again with excess cum still dripping from the tip of his cock.
Blinking up at him you can't do anything but watch as he lazily palms his erection and then begins to touch himself in earnest to the sight of you.
He's allowing you another break, altough you realize how short it will be by how roughly he's handling himself and by the way his breath is very quickly growing ragged again.
"Oh fuck..."
A low groan escapes his mouth and his free hand reaches out to part your knees so he can settle in between your legs.
You can't tear your gaze away from the way his head falls back in the throws of his pleasure, from how he licks and bites his lip in anticipation for what is to come so soon...so very soon...
Somehow his explosive orgasm still manages to catch you off guard as the thick ropes of his cum spurt all over your swollen pussy.
Propping himself up over your body with one arm he milks himself dry, painting your belly and part of your tits with what is left of his hot release, before slowly sinking back on his heels to come down from his high.
His pants are utterly ruined and once he has caught his breath he gets up to rid himself of them and the rest of his clothes.
Humming in contentment he pours himself a drink and settles back down on the bed.
You quiver under his intense gaze but don't dare to move while his eyes wander from your tear stained face to your heaving breasts and then further down until they stop at the mess he created in between your legs.
His cock twitches.
It will take a while before you are allowed to rest.
#luke skywalker#luke skywalker x reader#luke skywalker x you#luke skywalker smut#sith luke#sith luke skywalker#luke star wars#dark luke#dark luke skywalker#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars a new hope#star wars empire strikes back#star wars return of the jedi
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If you need to be mean be mean to me.
“Hobie please don’t make me beg” you say softly reaching out to him.
CW: Angsty Depressing :( Drugs Alcohol
There’s a buzz in the air, an electric feeling your heart pumps your eye open wider. Every breath is a gift from god.
“Fuck yeahggghhg!” You shout sober no longer. Fuck this night just got so much better. You scan the room Chris is chatting up Amy I’ll leave them alone hehe Damian might actually get laid! Wow good luck to him. You swerve around the room of the persons house your partying in and make you way to the drink table.
“Slim pickings huh!” You shout over the music to the stranger on the other side of the table.
That’s how you meet hobie his dazzling dark eyes his smile the way he sniffs and readjusts his posture made you fall in love. The party light refelecting off his skin as he stared at you in the way he does so often. The attention he show you in that night started your constant craving for his approval and exclusivity.
On this particular occasion you were on his bed it wasn’t a special as you hoped because so was 2 other randoms plus Damian. Hobie had unified us all to watch his band preform. Of course you loved his music and tried to show him. Bobbing your head to the beat. Tapping your foot. Smiling wide laughing louder. It’s like in these moments you forgot how to be human and got in your own way. The reminders to be charming more attractive than the two randoms. You clap harder and even sway side to side. Move to the beat.
“Thank ya wonderful audience!” Hobie shouts.
“WOOOO” You shout as we clap and cheer. A hobie looks at you in that way like he’s the one he cares about. You desperately want him to like you. To think you’re half a cool and you think he is.
Hours later your laying on his bed this time to your satisfaction it’s just a you. The time is almost midnight and your collapsed trying to fall asleep and watch hobie clean up his band things at the same time.
“You didn’t answer my question love” he says quietly
“Ummmmm “ you groan “say again?” He had been asking you questions for the last hour trying to keep you awake to keep him company.
“I asked you love” he replied “If you have ever had a pet?”
“A pet a pet a pet “ you yawn trying to think. “I I don’t know” you I close slowly and you fall asleep. Hobie notices your breath slowing and slumped shoulders.
“Oh baby” He covers you with a blanket. He stare at you for a while suddenly not wanting to make anymore noise. Or selfishly ask you anymore questions. Hobie showers letting the water run over his skin his mind stays on you. When he comes back it’s fully dark, sliding into his bed he uses his other senses to know your there. The weight on the mattress your smell the slow sound of your breath.
Hobie feels at peace. He tells him self he will make he will have a move soon.
Hellooooo
Tori here. I will finish this story soon I just thought I should post it in case someone wanted to read! <3
Please comment to tell me what you think about this story? ❤️😁
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can you make a pt.2 of “i want more” but like the middle of it….idk maybe chris asking his brothers advices about what to do and ugly crying, writing the letter….just an idea bc i’m mesmerized with this fic and you writing
I Want More. [0.2]
– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.
PART ONE.
Author's note: thank you so much for the request, love! I loooove the idea that you gave me so, here you go, Chris' side to the story. Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: mentions of alcohol and w33d, little bit of angst. But that's pretty much it.
Playlist:
"Chris. I think we need to stop this thing between us."
I freeze. What?
I am pretty sure I look like a crazy man, because my eyes are wide open and I completely freeze. I can't quite understand what is going on inside my head, or my body, but something makes me feel like throwing up.
"What? Why?" I whisper and I wish I never asked that question.
"I don't feel like doing it anymore, sorry. It's for the better." she is cold as ice, I see her standing up, searching for her clothes. There's nothing I can possibly say that won't sound utterly insane. So I just watch her.
She is stiff and quick, she looks like she wants to be out of my house immediately. As soon as possible. I watch her leave.
It is the first time that I watch her leave and I can feel my chest becoming empty all of a sudden. I quickly put on my sweatpants and I run down the stairs, chasing after her but by the time I reach the door, she is already in the car.
Fucking hell.
A few days have passed since that incident and they have been the worst days of my life, I think.
It's only 10PM but I try to get some sleep, I don't want to stay awake for too long, because my thoughts will go wild again. But as soon as I close my eyes, I can feel my chest hurting, a knot in the stomach, a lump in my throat. It feels horrible. So horrible that I tell Nick.
"You know it's because of what happened with that friend of yours, right?" he emphasizes the word "friend", rolling his eyes sarcastically.
"Nick, I'm fucking telling you.. actual pain. Cut the bullshit!" I am so frustrated.
He shrugs and widens his eyes, practically face-palming his face, "Chris, you're in love with the girl, just admit it and shut the fuck up so we can all go to sleep!" he groans.
"Fucking hell, Nick. I shouldn't have told you anything!" my fist meets the table but Nick is unfazed. He knows my anger issues appear when I am feeling like this.
"Chris, I'm being serious. You're denying it so much that your body started to react to it. This is an actual thing that happens. And no matter what I tell you, you won't listen to me." his voice is calmer now and I know he's being serious, "so grow a pair and just tell her already!" he yells and turns to the other side, covering himself with a blanket.
"You've been really fucking helpful, Nick, thanks!" I scoff, closing the door behind me and then going back to my room.
This cannot be the case. Nick is just being an ass. But why does my chest hurt again now that I think of her?
I don't know how long it's been but I've been drinking. I don't know why, I'm not this type of person but, well, happens to the best of us. I try to find my lighter, grabbing the blunt I rolled just a few minutes ago, and heading outside so that I can smoke in peace.
I am outside of her house and I don't know how or why, but it feels right. I feel the need to cry, God, I am such a pussy. I call her. The moment I hear her voice, some tears escape my eyes. I cannot understand.
She comes outside and we start talking, with every word we say, my chest hurts even more.
".. that's not how friends with benefits are, Chris." there's not a way I can actually reply to her because she's right. That's not what friends do, but fuck, I'm scared.
I chew on my bottom lip nervously, "I don't know how to do this. I thought you liked how things were."
What the fuck am I even saying? I just keep messing up. But what she says next, messes me up.
"I want more", "grow a pair", "I want nothing to do with you".
Nick's words reappear in my head and I want to fucking run away. Instead, once again, I do what I do best. I suck it in and I fuck up, "so is this the end?" even the words feel heavy on me.
"I suppose so. Yes." I nod, my jaw is clenched and I can feel my heart breaking again. I turn around quickly, about to leave, because I can't keep my tears in place anymore. I hear the door shut behind me and I burst.
I turn around, walking towards her door again, drunk, high and ugly crying like a little boy. How embarrassing it would be if she ever saw me like this.
I don't remember how, but apparently I went home at some point, because I wake up in my own room. I immediately run downstairs to find Nick and Matt in the kitchen.
"I need help." I clear my throat.
"No shit." Nick rolls his eyes and Matt laughs.
"No, seriously. I need help. I went to her house yesterday. Drunk. And crying." Matt turns around to face me and so does Nick. They did not expect that, neither did I.
"Oh wow. You're actually in love." Matt continues to sip on his juice, and Nick slaps his hand over his mouth dramatically, "don't say that word, Matt! He'll go crazy." Nick says and I sigh.
"No, you're good. Because you two are right. And she's right. She confronted me, told me to grow a pair." I let my head fall on the hard surface of the table, forehead pressed against the wood. My brothers are both looking at me.
"Yeah, it was about time." Matt agrees and I would normally punch him, but I'm just a mess now.
"What do I do?" I groan.
"Go to her house again", "call her, duh", "send her flowers", "buy her chocolate?", "oh my God, plan a romantic date!".
The list of suggestions was long, needless to say, but it still just.. wasn't right. Then an idea came up and I stood up abruptly.
"Wait, I know!" not wanting to lose the creativity or the courage, I quickly run to them, giving them both a kiss on the cheek (which made us all cringe, but it's fine), and then quite literally run to my room.
I am outside of her house again; I've already knocked on the door, pushed the envelope underneath the door and this is the most nervous I've been in my whole life. I can't believe I just did that.
I can hear shuffling behind the door and I almost want to leave – almost. I don't. But I feel the stupid tears in my eyes again. What if she doesn't want this anymore? What if she just never opens the door? What if she hates me already? What if–
The door opens and she cries, and I'm crying. But she opened the door, does that mean–
Stop overthinking.
"I can't lose you. I promise, I will try for you. I will do anything for you." I whisper and I mean it, I'm hugging her so tightly.
"I love you, Chris."
Wow, it feels good. To hear someone say they love you and mean it.
"I am in love with you too."
Fucking hell. That feels just as good. To love someone and be able to let them know.
"Your handwriting still sucks."
I laugh, "fuck off."
Sorry, I didn't have time to proof-read, so, sorry if I have any typos. Pft. I was excited to upload it.
@loveesiren promised to tag you, queen. 🤍
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#fanfiction#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#christopher owen sturniolo#christopher sturniolo imagine#imagine#imagines#oneshot#one-shot#one shot#fluff#angst#chris sturniolo angst#sturniolo#sturniolos
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“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?
One night, a message pops up on his phone.
🐟: You awake?
“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.
Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.
The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.
He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.
Until another night comes.
He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.
He can’t.
His phone chimes.
He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.
He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.
“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.
“Just checking on my dear partner.”
“It’s 4 in the morning.”
“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”
“I was sleeping, you bastard.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.
“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.
“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.
“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”
Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.
“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”
Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.
He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”
“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.
Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.
Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.
The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.
Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.
Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.
Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.
But… the sun surely knows better.
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#skk#chuuya nakahara#dazai osamu#soukoku#mini fic#teen skk#pm skk#literal sleeping together#soft skk#developing relationship
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Pillow Talk
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Summary: Jay comforting you after a tough day
Word count: 1.2k
꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳
It’s 3:46 a.m., and I am still wide awake. I slowly lift my head from my pillow. I could see that it was still dark outside. A little light was starting to seep through the curtains, indicating that the night was about to end. Thank god.
I didn’t even realize how much time had passed since I'd been lying here. I stare at the clock again, trying to make sense of what has happened. The events kept replaying over and over in my head, trying to figure out where it went wrong.
It was just like any other case. Jay and I were on a stakeout, waiting for our suspect, who was believed to be involved in a string of armed robberies. We spotted him near a convenience store with a backpack and something under his jacket, and he was headed straight for the store. We knew we couldn’t wait for backup, so we radioed in for some help and went after him. When we entered the store, the robber had already been waving his gun around. Jay and I immediately sprang into action. I started clearing out the rest of the store, helping the remaining customers to the back, while he engaged the suspect. When I turned my attention back to the robber, my heart went cold. He was pointing his gun at Jay.
Jay, meanwhile, had drawn his gun out and was shouting at the robber to drop his weapon, trying to deescalate the situation, but the robber didn't listen and, in fear of getting arrested, fired a shot at Jay. My heart raced as I watched the bullet hit him.
Everything happened so fast after that. It's all been a blur. Jay, stumbling backwards, lying on the floor..... Me, tackling the robber, and then trying to help Jay…. The screaming customers... Patrol arriving…
Later on, when the adrenalin faded, I realized what a close call it had been. He was lucky that the vest caught the bullet. If it had hit him even an inch lower, he would've bled out on the floor—he could have died.
And as I was lying here beside him, the realization hit me again hard, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I almost lost him today, and I didn't want to believe it. I just can’t imagine my life without him. Not seeing his beautiful eyes looking up at me, his infectious smile, not hearing his voice, or not feeling his warm touch on my body ever again. The idea of losing Jay was too much to bear; it made my heart ache. From that moment on, I just couldn’t close my eyes, afraid that when I opened them again, he wouldn’t be there next to me.
The thought terrified me and seeped through every bone in my body. I realized I was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. I looked up at his face, my eyes drinking in his every feature, trying to calm myself down.
He was fast asleep, his bare chest rising calmly with every breath. I could see the purple bruise from where the bullet had hit his vest; the blanket couldn’t cover it up completely. I reached out to touch it gently, but I stopped myself.
I shouldn’t disturb him; he needed his rest after the day he had, but then I knew I needed him more. I know it sounds selfish, but in this moment, I didn’t care. I needed to touch him. I know that without it, I would fall apart. I needed to make sure that he still existed.
So I carefully shifted to his side and put my head on his chest. With my arm around his waist, I pulled him as close to myself as I could and nuzzled further into his neck.
He slowly started to stir, and on instinct, he pulled me into his embrace.
Lying there and listening to his beating heart, I just couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. What if he had died? How would I survive without him?
He probably heard me sniffing in his ear, because the next thing I noticed, he started slowly caressing my arm.
"Hey, babe, is everything okay?" He asked, his voice raspy from sleep. I couldn’t find my voice, so I just shook my head.
"What’s wrong?" He reached for the lamp, and in a moment, our bedroom was filled with light. I still couldn’t speak, so I looked up at him, and I saw his face filled with worry.
I probably don’t look so good right now; my eyes are red and puffy from the lack of sleep and crying, so I can only imagine how much I scared him with that.
"You okay? Are you in pain? Please talk to me. You’re killing me over here." – I heard the desperation in his voice, so I had to pull myself together, at least long enough to give him an answer.
"Jay, I’m so sorry; I should have had your back," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears again.
"Hey, hey, hey... "What are you talking about?" his eyes pleading.
"This afternoon, when he shot you... It shouldn’t have happened." My voice trembled.
Realization struck him. "No, listen to me; hey, look at me," he says, and he cups my face. – "It is not your fault; it’s not on you; do you hear me? You did everything right today. You cleared the store, you helped the customers, and you took down the suspect. You couldn't have done anything more."
"I still feel like I should have done more to protect you. You could have been seriously hurt." If you died… I can’t lose you, Jay; I just can’t." – I violently shook my head.
Jay's eyes softened as he looked at me, his hand still cupping my face. "I know how you feel," he said gently. "And I can't imagine what I would do if something happened to you either."
"But you have to remember," he continued, "that we're in this together, and we look out for each other. And today, you did everything right. You were amazing out there."
Jay leaned in, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "And I'm always here for you, no matter what. I'm not going anywhere."
I let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Thank you," I said softly, turning to face Jay. "For being there for me."
Jay smiled, wrapping his arms around me. "That's what partners do," he said.
I leaned into him, and I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into his embrace and feeling the tension and worry of the day slowly melt away. I was thankful for Jay’s presence, his touch, and his words of comfort.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," I confess to him, my voice barely recognizable.
Jay looked at me, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "You'll never have to find out," he said firmly.
"I love you," I whispered, feeling the words tumble out of my mouth before I could even think. "With everything I have".
Jay smiled, pulling me even closer to him. "I love you too," he said softly. "And I always will."
He slowly laid back down on the bed, pulling me along with him.
"Now, try to get some sleep, alright"? I nodded, and he switched off the light.
As the darkness began to take over, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support I have in my life. And as Jay's steady breathing filled the room again, I knew that he was right—he wasn't going anywhere. We were in this for the long haul, and together, we can face anything.
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Midnight Urges
Romancing Pandora Day 01 - Somnophilia
Jake Sully/Omatikaya!Reader
Warnings: 18+, Somnophilia, Alien Genitalia, Fingering
Summary: It's a beautiful night, yet my mate is sleeping behind me while I lay awake and yearning.
Words: 779
The moons were high in the sky; stars were twinkling, and only the occasional sounds of the animals skittering around could be heard. Jake and I had already spent a good portion of the night with each other, sweat glistening off our bodies, and we moaned our pleasure into the night. Jake took care of me splendidly, cleaning me up, then wrapping me in his arms and drifting off to sleep. Well, only he slept; the heat in my core burned as if it had never been dosed.
Jake’s steady breathing behind me brushes against my neck, causing my skin to pebble; his strong arm wrapped around my waist, right next to my central slit, exactly where I need him. I bite my lip at the thought: how could I use my mate in such a way? But I can’t wake him; he has already worked a hard day as Olo’eyktan and even made sure I was taken care of, six times, to be precise! But his hand is right there… Surely Jake wouldn’t mind?
I trace my fingers down Jake’s arm, feeling each ridge of muscle and protruding vein, and I can feel more slick gush from my slit. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, slowly moving Jake’s hand closer to my slit, and the heat from the palm of his hand on my slit caused me to moan. I shut my mouth quickly and waited, listening to Jake’s breathing; a slight snuffle and his arm tightened around me, his hand pressing tighter into my slit. My eyes rolled back into my head as I held back another moan. His large hand covered my slit from top to bottom, stimulating every part of me, causing a pulsing heat throughout my core. My slick coated Jake’s hand, making it slippery, seeping through his fingers and wetting my own hand. I slowly released the breath I was holding as I waited for Jake to still again.
As Jake’s breathing eased out, mine sped up. I licked my lips, realizing this was my last chance to stop, but the throbbing in my core built the fogginess in my head. With one last shuttering breath, I rolled my hips, grinding myself into his hand. A stuttering breath left my lips as the friction burned my slit, my wetness leaking out, and I needed more. I ground myself into Jake’s palm again, spreading the same heat throughout my body. I did it again and again, the heat building, but it wasn’t enough. With a whine, I rolled my hips harshly, wanting to cum, but unable to. I lean by my head the best I could with Jake behind me, stifling a whine from my frustration. I thumbed at Jake’s hand through my motions, feeling the veins along his hand and his long, thick fingers. Fingers that wrap around my limbs, pushing my knees next to my ears, that slide into my mouth, gaging my on them, that slide into my slit forcing me to stretch wide around then, that bring me to orgasm over and over again. Sweat built along my body, dripping onto our sleep mat. I did my best to gently fold Jake’s fingers inside me, fighting to get the dead weight to push inside my aching slit. My jaw dropped from his thick digits slipping inside me; I was lost. I rolled my hips into his fingers. The stretch burned just right as I continued to fuck myself, using his sleeping form for my own pleasure. All I could think of was the pleasure as the coil inside me tightened. My hips became erratic as I sought my release; I panted and moaned as my high neared.
“Oh fuck, Jake, Jake, Jake,” I moaned, unashamed, as I fucked into his fingers more about to cum.
A rough tongue licked the sweat off my neck as a deep chuckle sounded through our kelku, “Needy little thing, aren’t you? Trying to fuck yourself on my fingers, acting like I haven’t taken care of you today.”
Jake ripped his fingers out of my slit and rolled us over so he was pinning me underneath him. He grabbed my wrists in one hand, holding them above my head.
A flush covered my cheeks from being caught, and I tried to stutter out an excuse, “Jake, I-”
“Ahaha, you didn’t ask for permission to use my fingers in your naughty little fuck hole, so I’m not going to let you try and excuse yourself.”
Jake brought his face close to mine, his sanhì glowing brightly in the night, hiding the darkness in his eyes, “By the end of tonight, you’ll never make this mistake again.”
Taglist: @eywaite, @loakstahni
Dividers by @cafekitsune
#romancingpandora2024#avatar#avatar way of water#atwow#smut#avatar the way of water#jake sully x reader#jake sully#jake sully avatar#avatar jake sully#jake sully x y/n#jake sully x you#jake sully x na'vi reader
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MEDIC! Part 22 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)
So one minuet I'm cackling laughing and then the next I'm blubbing like a baby. Giving myself whiplash over here! Just to be warned, I barely re-read this cause I want to get it out. So if something doesn't make sense, whoops, I will do a proof read later, I'll fix it ahaha. OMG yeah no this chapter is all over the place, my bad!
Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.
Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)
I tossed and turned, my brain in overdrive, wouldn’t let me go to sleep. The soft snores of the men filled the room. They all instantly fell asleep as soon as they laid their head on the pillow. I was jealous, my body was exhausted but my mind was wide awake. I kept replaying the fight I had with Don. Then how he was in the kitchen. Like he wasn’t upset by it, maybe he wasn’t. I rolled over trying to get comfortable but nothing worked. I reached down grabbing my canteen from beside my bed. I unscrewed the lip, tipping it back. No water entered my mouth, I shook it over my face. It was empty. I huffed. There was a water supply downstairs.
I pulled back my covers moving very slowly. I didn’t want to wake the men, knowing they needed their rest for the patrol. I placed my feet down on the floor, it was cold but I didn’t want to put on my boots. I would be down and back in seconds there was no need. I got off the bed, wincing at every creak and squeak from the mattress and the floor. I tip-toed slowly out of the room pausing every time I heard a noise. I could briefly make out shapes in the dark, the large holes in the wall providing some luminance from the moonlight.
I snuck down the stairs, cringing with every creak they made underfoot. I made it to the third step from the top, stepping down on my toes, when my ankle gave way underneath me. I flailed my arms trying to reach for something to grab onto but the steps didn’t have a handrail. I tipped forward, my body careening down the stairs. I seemed to hit every single step on the way down. I winced, but not from the pain, from the amount of noise my body made as it bounced down the stairs. So much for being quiet. I barrel rolled down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom. I lay still, panting from the fall. Maybe if i just didn’t move no one would notice. I wasn’t in pain, probably from the adrenaline that was now coursing through my veins, yeah that’s going to help me get to sleep. I heard movements from upstairs.
“What was that?”
“Was that a bomb?”
“What was that noise?” I heard the men upstairs whispering to each other, trying to figure out what all the crashing was from.
“Who’s there?” Even though I was laying on my front sprawled out with my hair covering my face, I could see the shine from the flashlight land on me.
“It’s Emily.” I said weakly, raising my hand over my head. “I fell.”
The sound of footsteps sounded coming down the stairs. Babe was at my side in seconds.
“Jesus, of course it was you who fell down the stairs.” Babe chuckled. I groaned. “Sorry, are you ok?” He asked, I gave him a weak thumbs up. “Come on, let’s get you up.”
I got to my hands and knees, my head spinning slightly. Babe grabbed my hands pulling me to stand. I winced in pain, oh no there it is. My whole body screamed in agnoy, especially my back which took the brunt of the fall. I clung onto Babe’s shoulder’s. As he helped me back up the stairs again, the rest of the men waited at the top, some of which had gotten back into their beds.
“Can we take you anywhere?” Grant asked with a playful smile.
“I’m sorry, I was trying to be quiet.” I felt so bad for waking them all.
“Are you ok though?” Joe asked from his bed. I gave a nod as Babe gently placed me back onto the bunk, lifting my legs for me to swing into bed. I wasn’t that injured but he had done it before I could say anything. I let him tuck me back in.
“You’re such a goose.” Babe said to me before climbing back into his own bed. Everyone fell asleep quickly including myself.
—----------------
I was up with the men as they prepared to leave on the patrol. I gave a hug to Babe and Grant who left with the men. All we could do was wait. We made our way into the basement, where the men would bring the prisoner if it was a success.
The sounds of footsteps clunked into the room, surely they weren’t back yet? Cobb, Skinny and Garcia walked in dripping wet.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, standing from my seat, making my way over to the shivering men.
“We took a dip.” Cobb said sarcastically. I moved forward to the men who stood in front of me.
“Here, take off those clothes before you catch your death. Can we get some blankets and dry clothes over here!” I called helping Skinny pull off his jacket since his hands were shaking so badly. I ensured the other men took off their wet clothes as well. Once they were in dry clothes I draped them in blankets and put them by the fire. Skinny was still shivering, I passed him the warm coffee I had made for him.
Then it was a waiting game again. Everyone else was out to help with covering fire. The men who had fallen into the water and I waited in the basement. I could hear distant gunfire and explosions. I could hear the sound of the whistles being blown, they were on their way back. I paced around the room, anxious to see how it went. I flinched with every explosion, come on why aren’t they back yet.
The door burst open as the men poured in, “We got wounded. Come on!” They carried in the soldier. It was chaos, the men shouting orders, the gunfire that continued outside, the bustle of people that made their way in. The once empty room filled with four people was now teeming with life and noise.
I made room on the table, instructing them to lay down the wounded man. It was Jackson. His face was badly injured as well as his upper torso. He gasped for breaths as he shook in pain. His face was burnt and disfigured.
“It was his own grenade, he ran in too early.” One of the men told me.
“Hold him down.” I yelled at the soldiers as Jackson squirmed around, making it harder for me to see. I pulled out my flashlight, opening his mouth. The inside of his throat was burnt. Shit. This wasn’t good. We were losing his airway every second, as it swelled shut. I needed an Oropharyngeal, but I didn’t have one, no one did.
“Does anyone have a tube?” I asked, looking around at the men, they shook their heads. I tilted Jackson's head back trying to open his airway as best I could. But it would be no use in a matter of minutes when it swelled shut.
“Does anyone have a pen?” More shaking heads. God fucking dammit. I wanted to try and do a tracheostomy, if I had a scalpel and a tube or even a pen I could create a new airway. But I had nothing in the way that I could perform the procedure. I flicked my eyes to Jackson, as he tried to fight, sitting up and moving. He was panicking, he was losing his breath faster, gasping and choking.
“Jackson, lie still, don’t panic.” I tried to reassure him, but with each gasp he took, less air was entering his lungs. He was slowly suffocating. I didn’t have anything with me, no intubation kit, no scapula, no pen. I couldn’t keep his airway open. He was going to die if I did nothing. I could save him but I don’t have anything, I have no supplies.
“Gene, do you have anything to intubate with, a pen, anything?” I asked as he rushed into the room. I watched him scavenge through his bag, he shook his head.
“We need to move him, I don’t have the supplies to keep his airway open!” I told him. He nodded.
“Let’s get him moving.” Gene called, the men helping him onto the stretcher.
“I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die.” He cried as he gurgled on his saliva. I held his hand as he was transferred. He looked right at me, “Don’t let me die.” I shook my head. “I won’t!” We moved him off the table. A bomb shook the house, making all of us duck, the men laying him on the floor on the stretcher. I kept his head tilted back as he choked on his blood and spit. I could hear him struggling to draw his breath. He writhed around gasping for air that wasn’t making it into his lungs.
“Jackson! Jackson! Please, you have to hold on, please!” I begged trying to keep his airway open. He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth and onto my face and clothes. He stilled.
“No! No!” I said bending down pressing my mouth on his as I gave him rescue breaths. I could taste his blood in my mouth as I pulled back. I bent down again giving him two more, I blew into his mouth, turning my head to look at his chest. I waited for his chest to rise and fall, the feeling of his exhale on my cheek, listening intently for the sound of him taking a gulp of air. But I didn’t, his chest didn’t move, I didn’t feel anything on my cheek or the sounds of him breathing again. He was still. I hovered over his face, staring down into his now dull eyes. I pulled back, resting on my haunches, I looked around the room. Babe's eyes found mine, he shook his head in disbelief. Surely he didn’t lose another friend, another brother. The sad look in my eyes said it all. He had. We all had.
I was so mad, I could’ve saved him, if I just had the supplies, anything, I could have sent this young man back to his family.
I wiped my mouth that was covered in his blood. Martin approached, laying a blanket over the man, no boy. He was just a boy.
The room that was once overbearing with noise, fell eerily silent. I hastily wiped the tears from my cheeks. I moved from my position walking over to Babe. I wrapped him in my embrace as he clung to me burying his head in my shoulder.
I don’t think we slept the rest of the night. We made our way back to base, but we all stayed up. I sat in the middle of my bunk as Babe laid down smoking, resting his legs on my lap. I leaned back into the wall, still covered in the blood that wasn’t mine. Jones and Webster made their way back from dropping off the POW’s, wandering back into the room.
“We heard you got two prisoners. Good work.” Don complimented Jones.
“Jackson’s dead.” Webster announced. Don and Lieb who hadn’t been there nodded, already hearing it from us when we got back.
“Yeah, we heard.” Lieb said, laying on the top bunk behind Don.
“Yeah, well, they want another patrol tonight.” Perconte informed the men who had just joined us. When we had heard there was going to be another one, we were less than enthused, just because it went to plan didn’t mean we lost nothing. We lost a life. Why risk losing more? Why did they need more prisoners? The Germans were falling apart anyway. It felt like a waste to go over again. A risk we didn’t want to take. Just because it was a ‘success’ this time, didn’t mean the next one was going to be. What if we sent 15 men over there just to be killed. It was infuriating. I knew how this was going to end, hell it was all I learnt in history class. I knew that the Germans lost, and it was closer than they knew. I couldn’t blurt that to them, they would think I was crazy, or a spy. I wanted to shake Colonel Sink, tell him it wasn’t worth it. That these men were more precious than the German POW's they wanted so badly. Couldn’t he see that these men needed to be preserved. I huffed, patting Babe’s leg. He glanced over to smile at me. A small smile but it meant the world, I returned it.
The men prepared nonetheless. Waiting in the same basement from last night. It felt tainted in that kitchen now. It wasn’t the same warm atmosphere it held before. Everything had been cleaned and organised but the feel of the room was heavy.
I sat looking over the things in my medic bag. I wish I had more in it. It was almost barren apart from a couple of bandages, sulphur and medication. The rest of my bag was my personal items. I thumbed over them. The dress from Renee, a stone I had taken from the woods in Bastogne, the gloves I had had in my pockets the day I had arrived, the hand sanitizer bottle that was now empty, my wallet, my phone and headphones. It was bizarre to have those things in this time. These men had no idea who I really was. They believed I was a young girl from Boston who came over to help the injured and dying men. When in reality I had messed with someone much bigger than myself and got stuck. If I go home, or when I go home, these men will have passed. After I leave I will never get to see them again. I looked around at the group, they all looked weary and tired. Yawning as they cleaned their equipment. I glanced over to Cobb who stood in the doorway, raising a bottle to his lips and throwing back the drink. He swayed on his feet. He was clearly drunk. I shook my head.
“Whatcha you looking at, Webster?” I heard him slur. I glanced up, Webster’s eyes trained on the inebriated man. Awkwardly glancing away after he had been called out by Cobb.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, college boy.” He taunted the man. I huffed, annoyed at his loud obnoxious voice. Everyone else was doing as they were asked, sure they weren’t thrilled but they never fussed. Cobb on the other hand had to be dragged to do everything and somehow managed to weasel his way out of it all. Moaning and groaning about doing the least amount possible.
“Are you drunk, trooper?” Jones swivelled in his chair to face the drunkard.
“Leave me alone.” Cobb snapped. But Jones didn’t flinch to his bitterness.
“Answer the question.” Jones said again, tone more firm. The young boy who had wandered into CP yesterday was gone, he seemed more confident in his role. It fit him nicely.
“Yes, sir. I am drunk, sir.” Cobb muttered. “Drunk, sick and tired of fucking patrols and taking orders.” He droned on.
“Hey Cobb, shut up. It’s boring, okay?” Martin told the man. I hid my smile. It was nice to see him being put in his place. And Martin did give the best tellings off.
“Taking his side, Johnny?” Cobb asked, looking butthurt.
“Yeah, I am.” Martin said, turning away from him. We stayed in the basement preparing, waiting for our orders.
I spoke quietly with Grant, Babe and Lieb who I was sitting with as they cleaned their guns. No one raised their voices over a hushed whisper. The tension in the room was solemn.
“Do I need to do something about the situation?” Lieb whispered to me leaning closer so I could hear him. We hadn’t been talking before just sitting in silence.
“What?” I asked confused, as the man had started talking like we were in the middle of a conversation that didn’t exist.
“You and Malarkey.” He stated.
“It’s fine Joe.” I shook my head, looking down at the floor.
“Well it clearly isn’t, I can see that you’re upset. He also hasn’t spoken to you in days. Do I need to talk to him?” He asked concerned, ducking his head down to make eye contact with me.
“What happened? This isn’t like you two.” I chuckled, when did he become so observant of me.
“I have it sorted, I’m waiting for him to apologise.” I said.
“Why does he have to apologise? What did he say?” He questioned me, the interrogator in him coming out.
“He just said that he didn’t have time for me, that he was busy.” I intentionally left out the part where he said he was my babysitter. I knew if I told that to Joe, he would try and fight Don.
“He’d better do it fast.” Lieb’s eyes falling on the man sitting across the room. He looked distant, staring off into space.
“It’s fine Joe, plenty of other fish in the sea right?” I stated, trying to play off the hurt in my chest. Of course it wasn’t as simple as finding someone else, I didn’t want anyone else. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking he would do what I wanted him to do. Who knows he might be already done with me, before anything started. If there was nothing there like he said, he could be perfectly fine. He is just mourning his friends, nothing else.
Joe gave me a sad smile, clearly not believing the front I had put up. His hand landed on my thigh and gave it a squeeze. I smiled, leaning into him. I rested my head on his shoulder as he lent his head on mine. We stayed like that for a while, not speaking, just resting. It was comforting. He was the older brother I never had. I didn’t think I would be able to smile again after losing Skip and Alex. I adored the two men. They had become my family. After I had lost them, I didn’t think I could trust and love someone as much as I did those two men. But somehow after the haze of it all, Joe waited for me. We were friendly, but never close before. Then suddenly he was everywhere I turned, with his charming smirk and witty banter. Same for Babe and Grant. They were just there when I needed them. They just took me in. I think that Alex and Skip had sent them somehow. I missed them so dearly.
Grief was a weird emotion. I had experienced it many times before, but it was never the same. With my Nana, I was sad, but I was grateful, she was old and ready to go. I always thought of her fondly, never plagued too much by her passing.
My mother on the other hand was a weight pulling me to the bottom of the sea. The heaviness of my grief was crushing. It was one thing to lose a parent, but to a disease where you had to watch them die slowly, knowing their fate, but secretly hoping for their survival. She was all I had left. I never fully am free of the sadness of her passing.
Then here, losing lives everyday was hard, but it was manageable. Most of the men I didn’t know personally, I wasn’t tied to them. I felt sad for their death but was able to move forward. If I didn’t think of them too hard or how I had lost them, I was fine.
With Alex and Skip it came in waves. The first a tidal wave, threatening to pull me down to the ocean floor just like with my mother. But I was dragged from the water, thrown a life saver. I had support. I would float on the top of the water, everything fine, happy and normal. Then every so often I would sink under the surface. The weight returned. It would hurt all over again, like a fresh wound. Just like lying in water, I would sink and float. Sometimes the sea was rougher than normal, or it was calm and tranquil. But just like the ocean it was unpredictable.
I missed them all so much.
“!0-hut!” Martin called. I stood quickly, focusing on the world around me again. I didn’t know how much time had passed, being so deep in thought.
Winters, Nixon, and Speirs walked into the room. “At ease.” We all relax at Winters command.
“This everybody Grant?” Winters asked.
“Sir.” Grant confirmed.
Winters spoke to the men, telling them he was proud. My eyes wandered over to Nixon who hung in the archway. I smiled at him as he sent me a wink. I didn’t miss the exhaustion that lingered on his face. He motioned for me to pay attention, still smiling. I looked back at Winters who was telling the men there was another patrol set for tonight. Many heads hung low. Winters explained the plan, noting that not much was changing, other than the men would need to go further into town. More risk. I sighed, my leg bouncing nervously. Babe’s hand stilled my movements, he left his hand there.
“It will be 0200 hours instead of 0100. Is that clear?” Winters asked, the men confirming. “Good. Because, uh, I want you all to get a full night’s sleep tonight. Which means in the morning you will report to me that you made it across the river into German lines but were unable to secure any live prisoners.” Winters paused as his words sunk in. He was going to lie. The men weren’t going to have to go on the patrol after all. I grabbed Babe’s hand under the table, squeezing it tightly. I channelled all of my relief into our clasped hands so that I wouldn’t whoop and yell. Babe held my hand as tightly as I did his.
“Understand?” Winters asked the men, his eyes flitting around the room. The tension in the room had evaporated immediately, like a weight being lifted off our shoulders.
“Yes, sir!” The soldiers said in unison.
“Good, look sharp for tomorrow. We’re moving off the line.” He told the men as he gathered his supplies and left. I could’ve fallen out of my seat. OFF THE LINE! OFF THE LINE!
“Did I fucking hear that right?” Lieb turned and asked me. I shook my head in disbelief. A smile pulling at my lips.
“We’re moving off the line.” I uttered, Lieb and Babe grinning at me.
#wtf that got heavy quickly#sorry for all the ocean content with grief#idk I just rolled with it#i thought it gave it good visuals#ahaha#next chapter is funny promise#but ay it's me we are talking about so lol#emarkey#also don and Em still fighting#guys wth#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#hbo war#donald malarkey#band of brothers imagine#joe toye#bill guarnere#dick winters
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