#someone's on the last year of being in her twenties
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not according to plan | hjs
summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his. what could possibly go wrong?
pairing: joshua x f.reader
genre: fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut
rating: explicit, minors DNI
word count: ~22.1k
notes/warnings: johnny suh as the ex-fiancee (sorry, he's not great in this), other idols born in '95 used as background characters, mentions of past cheating, food & alcohol, lots of "dates", reader is referenced as coming from a rich family, mention of being an escort (minus the sex?)
smut warnings: making out, multiple smut scenes (kind of, it could be a continuation), multiple orgasms, teasing, they're both v obsessed with each other's bodies, protected sex, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), scratching/marking, squirting, overstimulation, use of lube, i think that's it (but let me know if it's not)
author's note: this fic is dedicated to the lovely @shuadotcom, i'm so sorry it took me literal months to finish fake dating!joshua but here we are anyway. i'm not sure how this one got so away from me either lmao. banner credit to the beautiful @wongyuseokie who (again) did this very last minute. thank you to @wonwussy & @kwanisms for the mid-fic beta. thank you to @wooahaeproductions, @horanghater, @cheolism, & @hannieween for listening to me talk about this and helping with things like petnames & dates.
taglist at the end (& join my permanent taglist here)
“It’s fine, it’s been years and I’m over it. Plus, I’ve been seeing someone anyway and he’s great. So I wasn’t ignoring your invite,” you say without a second thought.
It’s just a stream of consciousness. The lie comes flying out of your mouth faster than your brain can process it. That’s exactly what it is, too. A lie. You’re not seeing anyone and haven’t been in a serious relationship since the person on the other end of the call broke your heart.
“Oh, wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to…well, I didn’t know. My mom didn’t say anything when she said she had spoken to your mom about whether or not you were coming to the wedding,” Johnny says with a little bit of ramble.
“You know how my mom can be, I haven’t had the chance to tell her yet,” you deflect.
“I’m happy for you, then,” Johnny says.
“Thanks, I’m happy for you, too,” you force out. Somehow, it doesn’t sound like the lie you know that it is.
“So, it’s not weird, then? I mean our moms are best friends, so the rest of your family is all going to be there. A lot of your friends will be there. I know you haven’t RSVP’d yet, but…” Johnny starts.
“Nope! Not weird at all,” you utter, hoping that your voice sounds even. “It’d be weirder if I wasn’t there, right?”
“Probably, yeah,” Johnny says. “That’s great, though. Do you want me to mark you down as a yes? I can even add a plus-one, if you want to bring your partner.”
“That’s so thoughtful, but I wouldn’t want to put you out. I know how expensive weddings can be,” you say and try to sound sincere.
“No, it’s no issue, actually. We have a few extra seats that we left just in case we forgot someone or didn’t know about someone’s partner,” Johnny presses. “So we’ll see you both there?”
“Yeah, you will,” you hurry out. This conversation needs to be over.
It’s only an hour after hanging up with your ex-fiancee that your mom calls to tell you she can’t believe she had to hear it from Mrs. Suh that you’re dating someone. Which includes a whole lot of deflecting and promises about when she can meet this mystery man. Another twenty minutes after you hang up with your mom, you get a pointed text from your younger sister. The two of you haven’t ever been all that close, so she shouldn’t be surprised that you haven’t mentioned him. She made her side pretty clear when she maintained her friendship with Johnny’s new fiancée. That new fiancee, a close friend of your sisters, also just so happened to be the girl he cheated on you with. So, she can hardly expect to have a close sister bond. Yet, she seems oddly suspicious that she didn’t know you were seeing someone seriously.
Your quiet Saturday afternoon turns into a full blown headache all thanks to one call from the asshole that you really thought you left in the past. Of course, now is the perfect time for him to pop back up. Now, when you’re even between any sort of casual sex. Now, when you don’t even have someone that you can call up to pretend to date you. This is going to be one of the worst calls that you have to make when you have to admit you made it all up, that you will absolutely not be showing your face at the wedding, and you will also be changing your name before moving away.
For now, you do the only thing that you can think of doing. You call the only person that can give you any perspective on this whole fucking disaster.
“Well hello,” your best friend answers.
“Jeonghan, I fucked up,” you say without preamble.
“This is gonna be good,” he responds.
“I just got off the phone with my mom,” you begin.
“What did she want?” he asks, knowing that it won’t be anything good.
“Well, you know, to talk about this new boyfriend of mine,” you continue.
“You haven’t dated anyone in forever,” Jeonghan chuckles.
“Thank you for that,” you snark. “And then, of course, I get a text from my perfect sister wondering why she’s also just hearing about this boyfriend of mine.”
“Why do your sister and your mom think you’re dating someone?” Jeonghan asks.
“Oh, well, you know. Johnny called today,” you offer.
“Fuck that guy,” Jeonghan interjects.
“He wanted to know why I hadn’t responded to his wedding invite and assumed it was awkward because I was single, so I told him I was seeing someone,” you finally finish.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jeonghan says into the silence and you can imagine his face.
“Right? My life is a fucking mess and now Johnny thinks that I’m bringing my boyfriend,” you groan.
“I’ll start planning the story for why you suddenly left town,” Jeonghan says.
“For real, my life is over,” you whine.
“What are you gonna do?” Jeonghan asks softly.
This is really why you called him. Jeonghan is a shithead, sometimes, and he can be a bit of a chaos demon. He also can be a bit of a schemer, especially when it comes to winning a game. But, he’s unfailingly kind and caring to the people he holds dear. He absolutely hates getting into any kind of real conflict with his friends. There’s that whole side to him that honestly wouldn’t hurt a fly and always has a way to comfort. That’s the side that you get now.
“I don’t know,” you answer, voice just as quiet. “I’m just…I don’t want to let him win, you know?”
And Jeonghan does know. You’ve been friends since before you started dating Johnny. Even though he never liked him, Jeonghan supported you in your relationship. When Johnny proposed, he called your other friends and set up the best engagement party anyone could ask for. From the outside, nobody would ever know that he hated your partner. Honestly, he’s the best friend anyone in the world could ask for.
Before he got around to setting up the bridal shower, which he’d been quietly planning for months, your whole world turned upside down. Johnny cheated, had been cheating awhile, actually, and Jeonghan was there to pick up the pieces. Somehow, he was the only one that seemed to make it better, probably because he didn’t want to act like things were okay when they weren’t. It was easy to cry in front of him, easy to be vulnerable, easy to just let the process play out so you could heal. Even though he never liked Johnny, he also didn’t say he told you so. This had never been something that crossed his mind.
“Okay, you’re gonna hate it, but I have an idea,” Jeonghan says.
“Those are never comforting words coming from you,” slips out of your mouth.
“Usually I’d yell at you, but…” he trails off.
“I swear, if you’re about to say that we pretend to be dating like some romcom, I will hang up the phone,” you warn.
“First of all, that’s rude, I’m a great boyfriend,” Jeonghan says.
“I never said you weren’t, Hannie, you know I think you’re gorgeous,” you sigh.
“That’s true, I am,” Jeonghan says through a laugh.
“But, I also know you remember what an unmitigated disaster it was when we fucked,” you point out, earning an even louder laugh.
“Wow, and here I thought that it was actually great sex,” he says.
“I’m not gonna keep stroking your ego, I already admitted you were gorgeous. I don’t need to praise the sex, too,” you declare.
“Stroking my…come on, you’re making it too easy,” Jeonghan points out.
“Funny, because I remember you being the easy one that night,” you say, finally managing to get a shot in.
“I hate you,” Jeonghan snorts.
“I know,” you answer. “Didn’t you say that you had an idea?”
Jeonghan clears his throat. “Right, yeah. Well, I know this guy and maybe he can help you out.”
“What is he, an escort?” you snort out.
“Do you want my help or not?” Jeonghan asks.
“Yoon Jeonghan, are you about to set me up with an escort?” you challenge.
“No, of course not, just trust me,” he says.
Just trust me might be the three most terrifying words that could come out of Jeonghan’s mouth, especially when you’re not usually on the receiving end of his schemes. It’s not like you have much choice, though. The wedding is in six weeks and you have to find a solution, fast. So, what choice do you have other than trusting your best friend? How could this go wrong?
You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into.
Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though.
Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.
It works.
When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks.
His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you.
In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated.
“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.
“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you.
“I feel like he hardly told me about you,” you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.
“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks.
“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out.
Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?”
“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?”
A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information.
In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)
Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.
To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting.
“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.
“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.
“I…what?” you sputter out.
“Well, sure, we need to work out a few details, but I’m game,” Joshua says with a shrug.
“I’m sorry, I think I’m just really confused?” You don’t even have food yet and this is already the most interesting date you’ve been on, possibly ever.
“I, uh, may have left a part of my past out when I was sharing what Jeonghan knew about me,” Joshua says. “And honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t catch it or that he did this. I’d be mad if I wasn’t so impressed by how crafty it was.”
“I’m going to need you to connect some dots for me,” you admit. “Oh and also never tell Jeonghan you appreciate him being crafty. His ego is too big as it is.”
“The first time Jeonghan and I hung out, we went out for drinks, got a little wasted, and I told him about how I got through my university studies without any debts,” Joshua says, pausing long enough for someone to set the appetizer down. “He’s observant, Jeonghan, I’ll give him that. He noticed I had designer clothes, shoes, that kind of thing. And he noticed I didn’t pay attention to the prices of the drinks. So I made a vague comment about being lucky to have found a way through my studies without taking out loans.”
“I’m sure he asked you about that, he loves it when he thinks there’s a scheme,” you note with a smile.
“You’re right about that,” Joshua agrees. “So I, well I told him. When I was in school, I met this woman out one night and she paid me to go to events with her. She wanted, and these were her words, ‘someone young and hot’ with her. And the next four years, that’s what I did. I let people pay for me to go to events with them. Never more than that. I was clear that I wasn’t selling sex or anything, just company.”
You lean back in your seat with an appraising look. “An entrepreneur from the beginning.”
“Hey, no judgment,” Joshua says. All you can do is smile.
“I’m not judging, that was really smart and you’re obviously attractive enough for it,” you acknowledge.
“Thank you,” Joshua says. It doesn’t have the air of cockiness Jeonghan’s answer would. He actually seems sincere in accepting the compliment.
“But, I’m still not going to pay you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, even if it’s a bit reluctant.
“I wasn’t asking you to,” Joshua shrugs. “You don’t have to pay me.”
“Why would you offer to pretend to do something like this? You don’t even know me,” you point out.
“No, I don’t. But, you seem like a good person. And I like Jeonghan, he’s nice…” Joshua says, stopping when you try to cover a scoff.
“Nice?” you question when you’re caught.
“Wrong word choice,” Joshua dismisses. “He seems like the kind of person that’s a loyal friend, like he would go into battle to protect you. Like someone you can actually trust.”
“He is all of those things, yeah,” you admit.
“And if those things are true, then him holding you out as his best friend means you’re probably all of those things too,” Joshua reasons.
“I try to be,” you agree.
“Plus, Jeonghan did mention you had seriously dated someone that was pretty rich, so I figure it’s probably the guy getting married and it’ll be a nice wedding,” Joshua says with a smile. The joke is obvious by the look in his eyes.
“It’s interesting that he mentioned Johnny, that’s my ex, being rich,” you idly comment.
“Is he not?” Joshua wonders.
“Jeonghan is a lot of things, but he’d never lie to his friends,” you answer first. “So, yeah, he is. Well, his family is at least. His mom and mine run a lot of events together, like galas and shit. That’s how we all know each other.”
“Are you rich, too?” Joshua wonders. There’s that little twinkle of something in his eyes again, but there’s also sincerity.
“I’m still not paying you,” you retort.
“Fine,” Joshua agrees.
You roll your eyes. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
There’s a weird world’s colliding feeling to having both Jeonghan and Joshua in your apartment. But, Jeonghan doesn’t like to be left out of things. Once you told him that you and Joshua both knew about his scheming, he offered to help in any way he could. Which is likely just so he’s included. You’ll take what you can get. Now, it means that he and Joshua are sitting on your couch, scrolling through pictures on Joshua’s phone to decide what to include in an instagram post. That’s the first step you and Joshua agreed on. If you’re going to sell this whole fake relationship, then your sister actually is right. There has to be some sort of proof of it online. Which also means that your post has to talk about how you’ve been keeping it quiet and just enjoying getting to know each other without any pressure. Jeonghan takes credit for that, even if you got there on your own.
“I think I like this one,” Jeonghan says and turns the phone around to show you.
“Why that one?” you ask.
“Why not? Don’t you like it?” Joshua worries.
“I don’t know, I feel like my hand is doing something weird,” you point out.
“You look great,” Joshua assures you.
“Oh, ew, you’re not really dating,” Jeonghan complains.
“You do know you’re going to have to stop saying that, right?” you ask.
“Maybe I didn’t know either,” Jeonghan shrugs.
“No, I’m with her, you’re her best friend and you definitely would’ve known,” Joshua agrees.
“Why are you on her side already?” Jeonghan whines.
“Because she’s cool and she’s not the one who knew what I did in college and set me up,” Joshua says with a laugh.
This is how it’s been going for the last hour. You’re not really much for putting a lot of effort into your posts, so this all feels like too much. But, you know that it’s important for it to feel real and it’s important to get it right. You’re honestly pretty happy to just let the guys take the lead and go with the flow of it all. There are going to be plenty of opportunities for you to take the lead. You’re going to take your breaks where you can.
(That had also meant not putting up too much of a fight when Jeonghan told you to bring multiple outfits with you. Or when you had to change your hairstyle and makeup between the photos so it looked like they hadn’t all been taken the same day. Honestly, this was so much easier for Joshua. Then again, he’s the one doing you a favor. So maybe you can let him have it.)
After you finally get your couple pictures posted, and get a flurry of messages ranging from surprise to congratulations, you move onto preparing Joshua to meet your parents, your sister, and her husband. Jeonghan is actually a lot of help with that because he’s been around them a lot. Well, he’s helpful after he tries to scare Joshua about how intimidating it’s going to be only to give up when Joshua is unbothered. He’s so calm about everything that it’s actually kind of nice to be around. And he has no problem firing back at Jeonghan, which is really fun to watch.
You go through what your parents are like, what they do both for work and as hobbies. Joshua perks up at the mention of your dad loving music and sometimes spending his weekends just exploring new venues. It seems like there might be more to that, though you don’t press when he waves it off. It’s different when you talk about your sister, two years younger and already married. Not that you’re dying to be married or even care that she got married before you. That’s always seemed like a weird societal expectation, anyway. What does it matter when anyone gets married? If it’s their right person, then it makes sense. You being upset over your failed engagement really doesn’t have anything to do with your sister’s marriage, despite her instance it does.
It becomes obvious that you’re losing Jeonghan’s attention when you turn down his request to start playing games or watch a movie. It’s not that you don’t want to do those things, it’s just that you have a lot to cover in far less time than you realized. Sure, the wedding is still weeks away. What’s not weeks away is your first dinner with your family. That’s going to be around the corner. The least you could do, you figured, was plan a time before posting pictures on instagram. So, Jeonghan asks if it’s okay to leave and you almost sigh in relief. This will be easier without an extra person.
“Not to pry, but what’s the deal with you and Jeonghan?” Joshua asks when you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine.
“What do you mean?” you ask.
“I don’t know, I feel like I was picking up on something,” Joshua shrugs.
“We’re really just friends,” you assure him.
“Sometimes those are the best…” Joshua starts.
“Don’t,” you cut off. He worries for a second before he realizes you’re smiling. “We did try. Not so much a try, I guess, but we slept together maybe 6 months after Johnny and I broke it off and it just wasn’t it.”
“You and him slept together?” Joshua questions.
“Is that weird for you?” you ask.
“No, it’s just interesting that you’re still so close,” Joshua observes.
“I guess,” you say with a shrug. “He’s great, obviously attractive, but we just, I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything. Neither did he. So, staying friends seemed like the right choice.”
“Interesting,” is all Joshua says. “Have you dated anyone seriously since Johnny?”
“Not that seriously, no,” you admit. “I’ve gone on dates with different people and some of them stuck around for a bit, but nothing serious.”
“Not finding the right people?” Joshua presses.
“I just haven’t found anyone that made me feel like Johnny did at the beginning or even like I did when he proposed,” you say.
“I can understand that, even if I don’t really get it. You’re gorgeous, anyone would be lucky,” he says smoothly. You cover a blush with a slight eye roll.
“I guess that’s why most of my close friends will also believe that I kept a new relationship on the low. They saw me post-Johnny and have seen me try to date,” you share.
“Yeah that’s good for us, at least,” Joshua agrees.
“What about you, though? When was your last relationship?” you ask.
“Ah, well it’s been a little over a year,” Joshua says.
“Bad ending?” you wonder. You’re not sure why you press him on it.
“It wasn’t great,” Joshua says with a chuckle. “She, uh, well she decided that she just really would rather be with one of my friends than with me.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” you say, suddenly sorry.
“No, no, it’s fine,” he says. “She didn’t actually cheat on me, but she had started getting close to him and sharing everything with him.”
“Arguably worse, in my opinion. Emotional cheating is still a thing,” you say, trying to offer comfort.
“Thank you,” Joshua says. His eyes are soft and full of care. “And, like you, I have dated since then, just nothing worth talking about.”
It’s an easy transition from that into talking about your backgrounds. Like speed dating, except somehow more intense. You learn Joshua’s birthday, his parents names, that he’s an only child, and where he grew up. Nothing is too small and you joke about taking notes before you actually go to get a notebook. Joshua tells you his favorite color and his favorite food, tells you about his favorite memories, favorite places where he grew up, and favorite places he’s found since moving here. There’s a way that his face lights up when he talks about his friends that’s drawing you in. You tell him the same. That all feels a little surface level, which you point out. If this is going to work, it has to be deeper, more serious.
That’s when something seems to almost break down. Joshua suggests that you tell each other the deep stuff, the things that you don’t always admit to someone you’re dating. Or, maybe you admit it and don’t get into the reasons why. When Joshua goes first and admits that he’s happiest when he’s playing his guitar, even if nobody else is listening, his whole face changes. It’s like a completely different version of him. He’s got an open face as it is, that hasn’t changed, but you realize maybe he’s a little guarded behind the smile as well. Maybe there really is more depth than he wants anyone to realize. Maybe this is going to be more interesting than you thought.
“Can I hear you play?” you ask. His face is adorable with his eyes full of surprise.
“You want to hear me play?” There’s an emotion you can’t place when he looks at you.
“I love music, too, Joshua,” you say softly. “I’d love to see what you’re passionate about.”
“Oh, well, I usually play at this acoustic night on Thursdays at a coffee shop downtown,” Joshua tells you.
“You do? That’s so cute!” you say before second guessing it. He looks away like he’s a little embarrassed and you worry for a split second.
“I’d love it if you came by,” he says.
“It’s a shame that we can’t say that’s where we met,” you admit.
“Wait, that would be a good idea, actually,” Joshua says and you smile.
“It would be, but I also know events like that. It’s always a similar crowd so I’m sure someone will know that I’ve never been,” you reason.
“Fair point,” Joshua concedes.
“Why don’t we just say we met on a dating app?” you suggest and Joshua pulls up his face. “Okay, I know apps are lame and honestly, I don’t use them much. But, think about it. That’s the perfect reason why we didn’t bring it up until now, we didn’t want to answer the ‘where did you meet’ question by saying an app.”
“Okay, yeah, I do actually like that because it’s easy and it doesn’t feel like a wild story,” Joshua says.
“What about your parents?” you ask. “Do we need to make plans to meet them if you’re also posting about me?”
“We can figure that out, but they live pretty far away so it would probably just be over FaceTime or something,” he says.
“I also understand if you don’t want to do that because we’re just pretending,” you suggest.
“No, it’d be cool to have you meet them. Even if the relationship isn’t real, I’d like to be friends for real, so that’s not a total lie,” Joshua reasons.
“I’d like to be friends too,” you agree. “How long have you been living here, now?”
“Oh, um, like 8 months?” Joshua says like a question.
“I was figuring like a month or two with the way Jeonghan talks about you,” you laugh.
“You’ve been friends with him for years, you’re not actually surprised,” Joshua points out.
“Okay so now I guess we have to figure out when we started dating,” you comment.
“And everything else, but we can do it,” Joshua says.
You’re a little nervous sitting on your couch waiting for Joshua to show up. Even though you offered to pick him up for dinner with your family tonight, he insisted on being the one to drive. Of course he’s right on time, which you’re already realizing is a trait of his. He’s even a gentleman when he opens the door for you, just like he pulled the chair out the first time you met for the date-not-date. As you put your seatbelt on, you notice that there are a few things in the backseat.
“What’s all that?” you ask as he slides into the driver’s seat.
“Flowers for your mom, a bottle of scotch for your dad, and a cheese board for your sister because you said they just moved and she likes to host,” Joshua lists off as if it’s nothing.
“You did not have to get things for all of them,” you point out.
“Of course I did, but I also wanted to. I’m trying to make a good impression,” he says, making your heart a little light.
“That’s so kind,” you whisper out.
“Oh, I thought of something else,” Joshua shifts. You’re worried you made him uncomfortable until he speaks again. “Are you a pet name person in relationships?”
That makes you snort, something that would embarrass you in any other situation. It’s not the first time he’s heard it, though. “That depends on what you want to call me.”
“That’s a dangerous way to say that,” Joshua answers. His eyes are still on the road, yet you don’t miss the way he reacts.
“I don’t like overly cutesy names,” you say to diffuse a little bit of the moment. “Like, I don’t know, if you want to call me sugarplum or honeybunch or something like that, please don’t.”
“You’re just giving me ideas to take away my fun,” he pouts.
“Well, what were you thinking of calling me? Or are you even a pet name person?” you ask.
“I do like them,” Joshua says. “I’m not sure that I have a go-to or anything. For you, I might say angel or possibly darling.”
“I think I prefer angel, if I’m allowed to pick,” you say after a moment.
“Of course,” Joshua replies. Studying his face, you’re looking for a hint of mocking or insincerity, but there’s nothing to find. This is just him.
“Do you want me to use a pet name for you?” you wonder.
“I’d happily take one, no pressure, though,” he says.
“I’ll have to think about it,” you tell him. “Something generic like babe doesn’t feel right.”
“Are you saying I’m special?” Now you can hear the light teasing in his voice.
“I take it back, any more compliments are going to go to your head,” you huff out.
As you get closer to your parents’ house, you start to bounce your knee with an excess of nervous energy. It’s not until Joshua reaches a hand out to take one of yours that you’re even sure you’re doing it. There’s something calming about it, though. Nothing about him reaching out feels like he’s trying to stop you, just show that you’re not alone in this. Which is more than welcome. The last person you brought to meet your parents was Johnny. Given how that ended and why Joshua is around in the first place, it’s not exactly the most comforting thought.
Once you pull up to their house, you take a deep breath. It’s only to settle your rising nerves, but it also serves to give Joshua enough time to come and open your door. Even though you’ve told him that he doesn’t need to be this sweet, he insists. Without saying a word, he holds out a hand to help you out of the car. Instead of dropping your hand once you’re out, he uses it to pull you into him and wraps his arms around you. There’s this immediate sense of comfort, like you have actually been dating for months. You inhale his cologne without meaning to, something warm and woodsy.
“It’s going to be fine, parents love me,” he assures you when you pull away.
“I don’t doubt that,” you say, releasing the breath you were holding and your tension with it.
“So come on, my little granola wrapper, let’s go,” Joshua says as he lets you go to get the gifts out of his backseat.
It takes you a full few seconds to register what came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”
“Is that not the one?” he asks, eyes alight with some kind of mischief.
“I’m not going to encourage this,” you huff.
“Whatever you say, jellybean,” he throws out casually.
The second you step into the house, you see exactly what Joshua means. Your mother is fawning over him in a matter of seconds, your father is making plans to show him his records, your sister’s husband is asking when they can go out for drinks, and your sister even holds back the snark. All during the course of the pre-dinner drinks and largely, you think, due to the gifts that Joshua brought. He had a reason for the meaning behind the type of flowers for your mother, a favorite musician who swore by the scotch for your dad, and even bought the cheese board from a small business that customized things.
Dinner comes along and you still feel like you’ve barely said anything with Joshua masterfully steering the conversation. He even makes it sound good that you met on an app, with his improvised story of wanting to meet people in a new city. According to him, he wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you and was done for the second he saw you sitting at dinner. It’s something real, that you met him for dinner the first time at a fancy downtown restaurant. And you realize you never actually asked what his impression was that first night. More than once, you catch yourself watching his profile as he talks to one of your family members. Everything about him is at ease and you wonder if it really is all fake. Not that you think anything about him is disingenuous, he’s just really good at making people like him.
The only hiccup doesn’t come until your mother is pulling out dessert. According to your sister, she’s got an excellent pie in the refrigerator that you simply have to try. You’re about to say something when Joshua beats you to it.
“I don’t think my little sugarplum likes fruit pies, but it sounds amazing and I’d love a piece,” Joshua interjects smoothly.
Your sister nearly spits out her drink, whether it’s at the nickname or him speaking up for you, you’re not sure. In any other situation, you would scold him for the name, but you’re a little stunned he remembers you don’t like pie. It came up once in a rapid fire of likes and dislikes.
“You’re right, she doesn’t,” your sister agrees. “I’d almost forgotten.”
(That’s when you’re sure it was another of your sister’s tests. Trying to catch you in some kind of lie about your relationship. But, it doesn’t work and you feel a little victorious for that.)
The doorbell rings through the house and you look to your mother, silently asking if she’s expecting someone. It’s unusual for them to have company calling this late on a Friday night. It’s usually reserved for dinners with friends or family or galas. Unsurprisingly, your mother doesn’t seem to know who it could be, but disappears to answer the door all the same. When a voice drifts through from the hallway, you freeze on the spot.
“I really just came by to drop that off for my mom, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’d hate to intrude on dessert,” the guest says.
“Nonsense, you’re not interrupting,” your mother insists.
“I saw an unfamiliar car, so I figured you might have guests,” he says as they come through the doorway into the living area.
Your heart stutters a little in your chest, feels heavier for seeing him. Somehow he looks taller and broader than the last time you saw him. He’s wearing his hair shorter and he looks more mature, somehow, like he’s seen so much more of the world than when you were together. Which is probably true, if you think about it. It’s been a couple years and that means he’s had more time working with his father.
“That would be my car,” Joshua says, getting to his feet immediately and extending his hand. “I’m Joshua.”
“Johnny,” he answers and shakes Joshua’s hand. Yet, his face looks a little tense and his eyes mostly stay on you.
“It’s just family,” your mother shares, though Johnny can obviously see that himself, “since our darling daughter finally brought Joshua around to meet us.”
“I’m glad she did, dinner was wonderful and the company was even better,” Joshua says with a smile at your mother. She nearly blushes at his compliment.
“Oh, hush,” your mother says with a wave of her hand. “I was just getting some pie if you’d like to stay for a piece, Johnny. Although, I’d hate to keep you from home.”
Joshua sits back down next to you, a little closer than is strictly necessary, and puts his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You feel safe pressed up against his side like that. Johnny clears his throat when he looks away from the pair of you. “Gabby has been out of town all week, actually, so I’m going back to an empty home anyway. I’d love to stay for a piece of your famous cherry pie.”
“Great!” your mother says and disappears off into the kitchen.
“What’s got Gabby away?” your sister asks.
“Just a conference,” Johnny answers. “There was a final banquet tonight and she’ll be home tomorrow.”
“She’s busy, away this week, bachelorette next weekend,” she says offhand.
“Keeping tabs on when everything is?” you ask of your sister. She looks at you like you’re crazy and Johnny looks awkward.
“No, I was invited to it,” your sister answers evenly.
Before you can even answer, Joshua is speaking up. Probably sensing your discomfort. After all, you hadn’t gotten to tell him that Johnny’s fiance is friends with your younger sister. They had gone to school together and been close. Stealing her sister’s fiancée doesn’t seem to have impacted the friendship.
“You must be excited with the big day getting so close,” Joshua says. He moves his arm from behind you so that he can take your hand on your thigh. It makes you look down at your hands before glancing at him, only to find his gaze on you already. It also means you miss the way Johnny follows the movement.
“Uh, yeah, I mean, I’m definitely excited. It’s just been a lot of planning,” Johnny says.
“I bet,” Joshua says. “Thank you so much for inviting me, I know how stressful changes can be.”
“It’s no problem, I’m happy you’ll both be there,” Johnny says.
With almost a practiced subtlety, Joshua squeezes your hand. There’s so much in that one movement. A reassurance, a reminder to breathe, a reminder that he’s there, a promise that everything is going to be okay. Your heart hurts seeing Johnny sitting in the living room so casually as if nothing happened, but it doesn’t hurt as much as you expected. Maybe that has something to do with this impossibly kind, completely idiotic person next to you. You also can’t help the way your gaze lands on him. Just in profile, at first, before he senses your look and turns to you with a dazzling smile. It’s like there’s nobody else in the world but the two of you.
The conversation shifts slightly when your mother comes back in with a tray full of pie slices and your father comes back with whatever record he was looking for to show Joshua. Just like that, you survive your first in-person interaction with Johnny. Actually come out of it feeling like you might be able to handle this. The smile you send Joshua while he’s eating his pie is so fond that you’re not even sure who you are.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night,” Jeonghan says in lieu of a hello.
“Hello to you too, I’m good, thanks for asking,” you retort.
“Greetings are for people who remember their best friends, not for people who send a single sentence recap after bringing their fake boyfriend home to meet the family,” Jeonghan states immediately.
“That’s a very long rule,” you note.
“Deserved, though,” Jeonghan says.
“I was tired, Han, it was a long night,” you explain.
“A long night where your ex showed up,” he reminds you.
“That actually wasn’t so bad,” you admit. “Joshua made it feel pretty easy.”
“Oh did he now?”
You don’t have to be in the same room as Jeonghan to hear the expression on his face when he says that. “It was just easy, Jeonghan, nothing more than that.”
“What did your parents think?” he asks, switching gears.
“They loved him, like actually loved him. My mom was enamored and kept calling him handsome. My dad was talking about music with him and making plans to go check out some acoustic music venue. Even the ice queen couldn’t find anything to fault him for,” you share.
“She’s less of an ice queen and more of a mean girl and a bitch,” Jeonghan adds.
“You said it,” you mumble.
“I mean, come on, who thinks it’s okay for their friend to sleep with their sister’s fiancé? And then stays friends with the girl?” Jeonghan gets really defensive with this. He would ride for you to the ends of the world, which you do love. Just not today.
“I don’t wanna relive that whole thing, it’s done and over. Nothing to do now,” you say, weariness seeping into your voice.
“Would you want to do anything about it?” Jeonghan asks.
“What do you mean?” You answer the question with a question.
“Like would you want to go back to when you were with Johnny?” Jeonghan asks.
You think about it for half a second. “No.”
“That was fast,” Jeonghan comments.
“What’s there to go back to? He made his choice and I’m fine, honestly. It was weird seeing him and hearing him talk about his wedding, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” you say.
“Is that because of your Prince Charming?” Your best friend, always doing the most, puts this question into a sing-song voice.
“He’s not a Prince Charming. You’re so annoying,” you scoff.
“I don’t know, he sure seems to be saving you,” Jeonghan presses.
“I can’t with…” you start, trailing off at the knock on your door.
“Who’s there?” Jeonghan asks.
“No clue,” you answer, getting off your couch to go see.
“I bet it’s Prince Charming,” Jeonghan laughs out.
“Would you fuck…” you begin as you open the door to find the very subject of your conversation on the other side, “off.”
“I’m right aren’t I?” Jeonghan is nearly shrieking with glee.
“Sorry, gotta go,” you say.
“Oh no, no, no,” Jeonghan tries.
You’re stepping aside to let Joshua into your apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow for brunch.”
“Let me know if I need to add one more to the reservation,” Jeonghan says.
“Goodbye,” you say with an eye roll Jeonghan can’t see, but will surely hear. You hang up as soon as he also says goodbye.
“Jeonghan?” Joshua guesses.
“Unfortunately,” you confirm.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting,” Joshua says. It’s nothing like when someone says it out of forced courtesy. He actually seems like he’s making sure he’s not intruding.
“No, not at all, I just wasn’t expecting you,” you admit.
“Sometimes that’s the best time to come over,” Joshua says with a shrug.
“Does that mean you have a plan?” you wonder.
“Yup,” Joshua says.
“Gonna tell me what it is?” you ask.
“Nope,” he says with a concerning smile, popping the end of nope. “Go put on something comfortable but with layers. And we’re not going hiking or anything like that.”
An hour later, you’re pulling off the road in an area you’ve never been to, even with as long as you’ve lived here. The views are instantly enough to take your breath away. You can see the whole city below you, all the bustle of traffic and skyscrapers. Somewhere, you know there are people rushing to and fro, too busy to stop and appreciate what’s around them. Straight ahead, you can see the way the low clouds glide around, splitting around the very tops of the buildings. It’s beautiful and it also makes you realize just how small you are.
While you’ve been appreciating the views in front of you, Joshua has been gathering his supplies from the trunk. By the time you turn around, he’s laying a blanket and basket down on the ground in front of the car.
“Is this…did you set up a picnic?” you ask.
“I wanted to show you this place and figured some food might be nice,” he says with an easy smile.
“That’s so sweet,” you say earnestly.
You settle on the blanket next to him and look through the food he’s pulling out. There are some of your favorite things and some things you’re not even sure you’ve seen before. Somehow, though, you feel like they might become some of your new favorites. He even brought plates and he sets about putting one together for you to pick at.
Joshua tells you about how this is his favorite place and he found it completely by accident. He loves being down in the city and around all the people, but there’s something nice about seeing things from this perspective too. It’s like he can just disconnect for a while. Turn off his phone. Read or listen to music. Just be totally alone. It’s how he works through a problem or gets the perspective he needs.
“I can’t believe you’re sharing it with me,” you admit and his eyes light up with his smile.
“I just thought, after last night, you might appreciate having a place to get away from it all,” Joshua says.
You want to say something, anything, really, to acknowledge what Joshua just said. Try to say something. Your throat doesn’t want to cooperate, it seems. Your brain, either. In fact, all you can manage to do is turn away to hide the tears. Joshua is observant, though. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his chest and runs his hand along your back. He quietly soothes you as you cry out a lot of emotions you didn’t even realize you were experiencing.
And something about him comforting you, this near stranger who doesn’t actually owe you anything, sets you off more. In the early days of your relationship with Johnny, you know it was good. It must have been. Surely, it was more than a relationship between two people who had known each other for years with families that were intertwined. You don’t remember it anymore. Don’t remember him ever holding you like this without even knowing what was wrong. Don’t remember him taking you on a date like this just because he thought you would enjoy it. Since you haven’t seriously dated anyone since the break-up, he also feels like your only frame of reference. That makes you sad for an entirely different reason. Who loses it over someone just being a little kind?
“I’m so sorry,” you finally say when you manage to pull yourself together.
“For what?” he asks.
“For just crying like that and being such a mess,” you say.
Joshua shakes his head. Moves his hand up to your face and waits for confirmation that it’s okay. When you nod, he gently wipes the tears from under your eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. What you’re going through with your ex, most of us could never even imagine that kind of pain.”
“But still, you barely know me and here you are trying to be kind and all I can do is cry,” you say.
“First of all, I think last night and the food I put together show I’ve actually learned a lot about you in a short time,” he says and you have to laugh at that. He’s right. “Second, I’m just happy you feel safe enough with me to cry. It’s not healthy to hold all that in. You’re not in this alone.”
That brings you up short more than anything. He’s right, again (an annoying habit, if you’re being honest). You don’t feel any hesitation around him. Nothing to stop you from crying if you feel like crying. That’s unusual, to say the least. Normally, you’ll do anything to avoid anyone seeing you emotional. But, this man you just met is different. He’s safe. You’re not sure how or why, but you know you can trust him.
“Are you free tomorrow for brunch?” you ask. Joshua gives you a quizzical look for a moment at the sudden topic change.
“Yeah, why?” he asks.
“I just need to send one quick text and then I want to do what you said you normally do here. Disconnect from the world and just appreciate the afternoon,” you say and find yourself smiling along with his smile. He really is so beautiful.
You: add one to the reservation for brunch tomorrow and i’ll call you tonight when i’m home
You switch your phone into Do Not Disturb before the response comes and turn all your attention back to Joshua.
Over the next couple weeks, Joshua slips seamlessly into your life and your existing friendships. Some of them, like those closest to you that come along to the Sunday brunches, know the whole story. It’s not like they would believe you had kept a relationship secret for that long, anyway. And it’s good to have a few extra sets of eyes and ears helping to sell the story. Other friends get the same story that your family and Johnny got. It’s not that you don’t trust them, you do. It’s more important to keep the circle of people who know the real story as small as possible, though, so that it actually succeeds. All your friends adore him from the second they meet him. The only surprise is how well Jeonghan seems to be adjusting to sharing your time. He wants to give you a hard time, yet he doesn’t.
You meet all Joshua’s friends and coworkers, too. It feels way easier than it should the first time you join him and his coworkers after work for drinks. They spend most of the time giving Joshua a hard time that he’s kept you to himself for so long. It’s easy to fall into step and you find that you do know him a lot better than you think. So, it’s just as easy for you to jump in when they’re giving him a hard time. He pretends to be annoyed, but you can tell by the way he smiles that he likes it. It’s one of those genuine smiles that makes his eyes bigger and brighter. Everything just feels…easy. Like this whole thing wasn’t actually a bad idea after all.
Your favorite part might be the first time you got with him to an Open Mic Night and get to see him play. He’s got that easy kind of confidence on the guitar. Like he knows he’s talented, but not in a cocky way. It’s his singing that catches you off guard. His voice moves over the notes with an ease that makes you wonder why this isn’t something he’s doing for a living. He’s got this way of pulling you into songs that you don’t even know. And he’s so kind with the people that show up just to see him play. They all seem just as happy to meet you and know that he’s happy.
There’s only been one part that’s been difficult. Not difficult, exactly, but not as comfortable as some of the other things. While you and Joshua talked through anything and everything to prepare to start a fake relationship, you covered comfort levels with physical affection. You both say you’re comfortable with physical touch, though he seems to seek it out more than you do. That includes at least some level of PDA as a couple. You’ve never really been one to just randomly make out with a partner in public, but you’ve never been shy about expressing affection either. It was fine, when it was all theoretical.
In actual practice, it’s been a little more difficult. The first time Joshua had pressed a kiss to the side of your head while you were out with people that didn’t know it was fake caught you off guard. It shouldn’t have, he asked before doing it and you confirmed it was fine. What you hadn’t been entirely prepared for was how it would feel when he did it. Or how it would feel that he was so casual about it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it wasn’t making you rethink everything in your life.
Tonight, you’re hanging out with friends at Hyejin’s house. You and her have been friends since before you even started school. So, she knows what’s really going on with Joshua. Your other friends there, though, are mostly not in on it. Which is fine. You’re shockingly comfortable with the song and dance.
It’s not actually fine.
It starts the same as any other time you’ve been out somewhere with him. You’re sitting close together on the couch, thighs pressed together, with his arm behind you along the back of the couch. Periodically, his fingers play with the sleeve of your shirt. It’s an absentminded habit and you’re used to it. He’s usually keeping some sort of contact with you in a very subtle way. You learned right away that he did like physical touch, but it was rarely something obvious. One drink in and his affection got a little more obvious. Arm wrapped firmly around you. More kisses pressed to the side of your head.
Two drinks in and it changes again. He removes his arm from around you in favor of holding your hand. Playing with your fingers while he’s having other conversations, like he doesn’t even realize. Hand squeezing your thigh. Or tracing patterns into the material of your pants. Head dropping down on your shoulder when he’s not talking to someone else. And it’s definitely not fine. You’re nursing your drink, but even if you weren’t, his constant presence would sober you. Since you’ve just finally finished your first, you think maybe a second is a good idea.
It’s not. Joshua gets another drink, his third, and you decline. Instead, you stick with the water you’ve been drinking since you couldn’t even finish your second. You want to be able to respond, whatever happens. Respond to whatever new form of affection unlocks with this next drink.
“I hope you stick around, you’re my favorite of the partners that we’ve met,” Mimi announces to Joshua when he plops back down next to you.
You’re glad that you hadn’t taken a sip because it would’ve come out immediately. Mimi has been a friend for a long time as well, and you love her, but she doesn’t know the truth.
“Don’t I know it,” Joshua agrees, earning a lot of laughter.
“Have you met Johnny yet? I know you’re going to the wedding,” Taehyung wonders.
“Yeah Johnny showed up magically the night I brought him by to meet my parents, sister, and brother-in-law,” you say, regaining some composure.
“I think you traded up,” Joshua says, eyes laser focused on you.
You’re not so lucky this time and you just took a sip. You nearly choke. “Do you?”
“Definitely,” Joshua insists.
“I agree,” Jimin says and Mimi elbows him in the side. “What?”
“You’re going to the wedding,” she says.
“So? He’s a fucking tool,” Jimin shrugs off.
“Are you all going, then?” Joshua asks.
“A good portion of us, yeah,” Hyejin says. “Family connections, you know?”
“I wasn’t invited,” Mimi pouts.
“Want to come?” Taehyung asks and Mimi laughs.
“Tae, my love, you can’t just invite people,” Mimi says and shakes her head.
“I have a plus-one,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “I think we all knew I wouldn’t make it to the wedding in my relationship. But, Johnny still thinks I’m bringing someone.”
“Damn, okay. I’m in,” Mimi says.
“I’m not going either, my family ties weren’t enough to get an invite,” Jeonghan says without any sorrow in his eyes.
“That’s because of what you said to him after the break up,” Hyejin interrupts with a laugh.
“I don’t remember saying anything that bad,” Jeonghan shrugs, and examines his finger nails to show how little he cares.
“Remind me to show you what he said some time, it was fucking gold,” Hyejin says to Joshua.
“Do you have it saved?” you ask.
“I should have it framed, honestly,” Hyejin says. “Get you a best friend like Jeonghan, for real, for real.”
“Hey, that’s my best friend, get your own,” you joke.
“That’s a shame you won’t be there though, Han, I could’ve used the familiar face,” Joshua says.
“Like you’re going to be paying attention to anyone but your date,” Hyejin teases.
“Can you blame me? I still can’t believe how lucky I got,” Joshua says without any hint that he’s pretending. It makes your heart skip a couple beats as you try to catch your breath.
“Ugh, I’m so single,” Mimi whines.
“Maybe not after the wedding,” Hyejin teases.
The conversations devolve from there into separate, smaller chats. Joshua is back to tracing patterns into your leg. Without warning, he pops his head up and places a quick peck on your lips before dropping his head onto your shoulder again. He’s so nonchalant about it that you’re not really sure it even happened. You’ve kissed a couple times like that, quick pecks in public. But, it’s always been when you’ve talked about it. It isn’t until you look up to meet Jeonghan’s eyes that you know it all really happened.
Joshua, unaware that he’s just turned your world a little upside down, moves his head to look at you again. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
It’s barely a whisper and you know he’s not drunk. He’s not sober either, though. And you’ve had drinks around each other before. He’s just never been quite so glued to your side or free with the compliments. You’re also not usually so singularly focused on him. A fact that doesn’t go entirely unnoticed.
“Thank you,” you whisper back.
“I’m kinda hungry,” he continues in a bit of a whine.
“Well you were the one who thought skipping dinner was smart,” you tease him.
“But my little honeybunch,” he teases back. You snort and miss the way several of your friends watch the interaction because they know how you are about weird pet names.
“Try again, sweetheart,” you answer.
“Sweetheart, I like the way that sounds,” he says, distracted.
“Just a little longer and we can leave and get something to eat,” you say and he sighs.
“Fine,” he concedes and kisses your cheek, just barely a whisper away from the corner of your mouth.
About half an hour later, you say your goodbyes. Despite your suggestions, Joshua continued drinking instead of switching to water. It’s as fine as it can be, though. He’s just an affectionate drinker. He wraps an arm around you, slipping a hand into your back pocket so that he can whisper thanks again. You do your best to shrug it off and let him drape his arms around your shoulder instead.
The car ride is quiet, initially. You pick a playlist that he made for you after you first met. Something he seems to enjoy. You’re nearly back at his place when he says that he doesn’t have anything to eat. But, luckily, there’s a place around the corner that he loves that’s still open. He manages to place an order on the app, gets something for you as well, and pays before getting there. All you have to do is walk in.
“I hope you’ll come in and eat with me,” he says when you get back into the car.
You’re not really sure how to tell him that you don’t want to. Not because you don’t want to spend time with him. Or that you don’t appreciate him ordering something he knows you’ll like. No, it’s so much deeper than that. It’s that you don’t know if your heart can handle it. You’ve got a couple more weeks of this and your heart is taking a beating. All of this is fake. It’ll be over after the wedding. But, the compliments don’t feel fake. The kisses don’t feel fake. The affection doesn’t feel fake. Your heart racing is real, oh so real. You don’t need anyone to tell you that you’re in way too deep.
None of that comes out, though.
“Sure, sweetheart,” you say and hold your breath for a second. You hadn’t meant to say that when it was just you.
Joshua smiles over at you. “Really do like that.”
Does he know what he’s doing to you? Can he hear your heart hammering in your chest? Can he hear your breath catch? Does he know how insanely beautiful he is? Or that he’s all the more beautiful because he’s so unfailingly kind?
Probably not, because he gets distracted and starts singing along as the song changes. It’s welcome, but also a little devastating. His voice cuts through you in a way you’re still very unprepared to handle.
After another few minutes, you’re at Joshua’s place. He springs back into action and tries to open your door for you, even though you’re the driver. He settles for taking hold of your hand as he walks to his door, only reluctantly dropping it when he gets to the door.
His apartment is familiar to you, it has to be for this to be believable. So, he sets the food out and you grab plates. You grab a couple waters from the fridge while he takes the food over to the couch, bypassing the table. You sit next to him, leaving enough space between you that you’re not touching. Hoping he doesn’t think anything of it.
It’s useless, apparently, because he slides over to press into your side.
What’s worse (not that you thought that was possible) is that he picks things off of your plate and gives you food off his plate. Tries to feed it to you, actually, and pouts when you don’t let him. It takes everything in you not to beg him to be gentle on your heart. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing to you as he smiles and jokes. Doesn’t seem to think twice about playing with your hands or his hand on your leg or any of the things he usually does when you have an audience. There’s nobody here to see and he’s not usually this touchy when you’re alone. Maybe it’s the drinks.
“I like your friends a lot, you know,” he says out of nowhere.
“They like you, too,” you assure him.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I’d assume they like me as well,” you laugh out.
“No, I meant me. Do you like me?” he asks, eyes big and vulnerable.
Please, Joshua, I’m begging you. Be gentle with me, you think so loud you’re worried he might hear.
“I’m actually a little sick of you,” you joke.
“But, but,” he begins and dramatically throws himself in your lap.
“You’re the worst,” you say without any bite. Your hands find their way into his hair, softly running through the strands.
“That feels nice,” he says softly. “Can I just stay like this? I’m tired.”
“Of course,” you whisper.
“You’ll stay with me?” he asks, sounding like he’s about to drift off.
You’re sure he won’t remember any of this. Not because he’s drunk, but he’s on the edges of sleep. So, you answer in a whisper. “Always.”
Maybe he’s not the one that needs to be careful with your heart. Maybe it’s you that needs to be careful. You know that you could walk away. That you could just remind him that this is all fake and there’s nobody around to see now. That’s not what you do. So, maybe you’re just as much to blame.
Sunday
Joshua: thanks for taking care of me last night
Joshua: idk why the drinks hit me so hard
Joshua: when did you leave?
Monday
Joshua: is everything okay? Did i say something stupid?
Tuesday
Joshua: i don’t wanna sound clingy but are we still getting together at your place after work?
Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you need to respond. You know that what you’re doing isn’t fair to anyone. It’s not like Joshua can somehow read your mind to realize you’re spiraling. It just feels a little paralyzing. This is a weird limbo of knowing you might be in over your head, but still believing this is all fake.
Jeonghan: hey dummy i know you’re ignoring joshua so i’m coming over tonight
Jeonghan: i told him you’ve been busy at work and i haven’t heard from you either but we have some talking to do
Leave it to Jeonghan. You had almost forgotten, with how well you’ve gotten to know Joshua, that it was Jeonghan who introduced you in the first place. Of course he would text your best friend when he couldn’t get a hold of you. Does that make you feel better? Not really, you think, because it feels like a real relationship in a way. Oh well, you can talk about it with Jeonghan. If he shows up, that is.
And he does, less than an hour later.
“I’m here,” he announces when he comes in the door.
“Thanks for knocking and giving me the chance to pretend I’m not here,” you call back.
“Your car is outside and you have your location turned on,” Jeonghan says.
“Right,” you answer as he comes through the hall holding a bag from your favorite take out place.
“At least I come bearing gifts,” he says.
“You’re an angel, do you know that?” you ask and reach for the bag.
Jeonghan snorts. “I’m gonna remind you of that the next time you call me a demon.”
“Well, Lucifer was a fallen angel,” you reason with a shrug.
“I hate you,” he says.
“I know,” you answer.
Jeonghan busies himself with taking out the food and making sure you have napkins. Tells you what he wants to drink when you get up to go into the kitchen. Calls for you to grab some utensils as well. By the time you sit back down with him, he’s flipping through a streaming service trying to find something to watch. It’s not at all what you’re expecting and you just let it happen. The two of you have been friends long enough to know you should just let things play out.
With some mindless show on in the background, Jeonghan talks about work and your friends and everything else that’s been going on the past few days. Like it’s been weeks since you last saw him. Mostly, he talks about how Taehyung has been blowing up his phone asking for advice about Mimi, which is actually news to you. Sure, you saw him ask her if she wanted to go with him to the wedding. What you had not expected was for him to actually be interested. Which he is, if his messages to Jeonghan are anything to go by. It’s been everything from advice about talking to her to what kinds of things she might like as a surprise. They would probably be cute, you think.
“Yeah, well, sometimes feelings catch us off guard,” Jeonghan says when you admit your surprise.
Damn. Did you really walk right into that?
“True,” you admit, knowing that’s the best answer you can give.
“Talk to me,” Jeonghan urges.
“About what?” you ask to buy more time.
“Joshua,” he says.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you state. That makes him fix you with a look.
“Clearly there is or you wouldn’t be ignoring him,” he says.
“We’re not really dating so I don’t owe him constant updates. I’m not ignoring him. I just have other shit to do,” you say without looking at him.
“Would you like to be?” he asks. That does make you turn to him.
“Like to be what?” you ask, though you think you know.
“Really dating him,” Jeonghan says.
It’s a crossroads kind of moment. You could say that you don’t want that. That would be a lie, though, and Jeonghan doesn’t like it when you lie. Can always tell the second you say something that’s not true. The truth is that you’ve spent nearly every moment since that stupid night at Hyejin’s place thinking about what you actually feel for your fake boyfriend.
“I don’t…know,” you say slowly and earn a smile because it’s not a lie.
“I was there the other night too, I saw the way it all played out,” he says.
“I mean, does it matter? This is all fake and soon, it’ll be over,” you say.
“Of course it matters and it’ll be over soon? Please,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I know he’s told you that he wants to keep you in his life after Johnny’s wedding. So, what? You’re just gonna be like okay, that was fun, let’s never talk again?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” you say quietly.
He rolls his eyes. “Try again, buttercup.”
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me like that, he’s just nice,” you say, avoidant as ever.
“He looks at you like he’d give you the moon if you asked for it,” Jeonghan snorts out.
“He’s just nice, Han,” you disagree.
“Maybe,” your closest friend concedes, a rare move for him. It feels weird all the same. “Whatever it is, text him back. He misses you and I don’t want to hear anymore about how he’s worrying he upset you.”
“He’s been worrying that he upset me?” you ask. Your heart constricts at that.
“Yeah, for some reason he actually likes your company,” he says. “Can’t relate.”
You smack Jeonghan on the arm. “Says the man who shows up at my place unannounced when I ignore him for a day.”
“No, I was just bored,” he argued. “And you’re way too stubborn to sort out your shit on your own.”
“I’m not stubborn, but fine, I’ll text him,” you relent.
“Now,” he says.
“What?”
“Text him now so that I know you actually did it.”
You roll your eyes at him, but pull your phone out anyway. Angling it away from Jeonghan so that he can’t see your screen. He’s such a nosy brat sometimes.
You: hey, i’m sorry. It’s been really busy and i had a lot on my mind
You: wanna do something tomorrow?
The response comes right away and you ignore the smug look on Jeonghan’s face as you quickly make plans. If Jeonghan was anyone else, he would probably just let you be since he ultimately got what he wanted. But, he’s not anyone else. And he’s as caring to his friends as he is calculating when he wants something. So, he’s not doing it to be cruel, not at all. He just wants you to consider what you’re actually feeling.
You’ll never tell Jeonghan how much you appreciate him talking everything through with you. Never tell him how good it feels to get all the thoughts out of your head. To his credit, he’s not smug and he doesn’t tell you that he’s been right about your feelings all along. He just listens, supports you when you need it, and encourages you to keep thinking through everything that’s going on.
As a make-up for slightly ignoring Joshua (over your own internal freak out), you take him to dinner at your favorite restaurant. It’s this tiny little hole-in-the-wall that people seem to walk past. The kind of place where you couldn’t overspend even if you tried because the couple that owned it just wanted to share good food. The kind of place where they know everyone by name. It makes you feel instantly at ease.
Joshua doesn’t say it, but he also kind of can’t believe you wanted to show him some place that meant so much to you. All he could do was watch, with so much fondness, as you spoke to the couple about everything under the sun. Watch as you turned slightly red when they scolded you for taking so long to bring Joshua by. Smile as you promised the both of you would be back. Despite trying to pay, you beat him to it. Even leaving a massive tip because you insisted the couple had undercharged you. They made a big show of not wanting to take the tip and you only reminded them the cash would stay sitting on the counter. You weren’t taking it back either.
You don’t really think about it when you take a picture of you and Joshua to upload on Instagram. At least, you try not to. Later, when you’re home and winding down for the night, you pull the picture back up. It’s amazing just how happy both of you look. You don’t need to read the comments to know that you’ve never looked so happy in your life. Every part of you wants to pull back again. It’s overwhelming. But, Jeonghan’s voice plays in your head and instead you push past. Make more plans that could break your heart. You have to just trust that he won’t.
It isn’t until the weekend that you’re able to see him again because your schedules didn’t quite match up. That doesn’t stop him from calling you at night, though. Insisting that he wants to know how your day was, even if you can only spare a few minutes for a call. (Which never ends up being the case. You fall asleep on the phone with him twice. His voice is just so soothing when it’s all deep and soft.)
Again, Joshua tells you the date is a surprise. He can be a little bit of a demon, when it suits him. Sure, he likes to pretend he’s not. That he’s above the chaos. Then, he does something like this and he can’t really escape it. But, he’s so sure he knows what you like that he’s positive you’ll enjoy the date. You remember how that chat had gone, too. You were ready to go to sleep, but unable to say goodnight.
(“I have our next date planned,” Joshua says, voice soft to match the calm of the night.
“What is it?” you wonder.
“A surprise,” he answers.
“What if I don’t like it?” you ask back.
“You will,” he assures you.
“You sure seem to think you know me,” you joke.
“Yeah, I do. Don’t worry, you’ll like this too,” he says.
There was no point in denying it. That confidence sent a bit of a shiver through you.)
It turns out that the date is at a winery where you’re painting with wine. You have to ask him to say it again because you’ve only ever heard of wine and paint classes. Painting with wine is entirely new to you. It sounds fun, though, and you know how crafty Joshua can be, have seen all the projects around his apartment. So, even though you’re definitely not that artistic, you’re excited to see this as well.
Admittedly, by the end of the session, your painting isn’t bad. It was a bit weird to use wine in that way, but they let you drink as well. Which makes it a lot easier to just go along with the idea of painting. Joshua’s painting, on the other hand, is beautiful. Not for the first time, you think his talents might be wasted at an office job. You’ve seen the bracelets he makes and now you’ve seen him paint. You’ve heard him sing and play the guitar. He’s impossibly artistic in a way that should make you jealous. Instead, it just makes you more endeared to him.
You snap a picture of him and his art when he’s not looking and upload it before he can even realize it. It’s only when a notification goes off on his phone that he realizes. He doesn’t even say anything, just gets a sparkle in his eyes that makes you weary immediately. He’s busy tapping away on his own phone before a notification sounds on yours. Maybe you weren’t the only one to steal a candid shot if the picture of you laughing with a glass of wine in one hand and a paintbrush in the other is anything to go by. It’s the caption that really ruins you, though. Just a simple “think I’m addicted to her light”. It’s so simple and also so much sweeter than yours. You fight through the urge to run away.
Which lasts until you get home from dinner. It was the perfect date, truly. Joshua always seems to know exactly how to plan out a day so everything works. After sipping wine and painting, he took you to one of his favorite restaurants. Nothing too pretentious, just kind of unassuming. The kind of place where you get good food and even better conversation. It’s (mostly) easy to keep your mind off the way your heart keeps racing.
When you’re back home, you’re not so lucky.
Back home, alone in your apartment, there aren’t any distractions. Nothing to stop your mind from all the ways that it can sabotage your own happiness. Nothing to stop you from thinking about how nobody, not even Johnny, has ever planned out such thoughtful dates for you. Nobody has ever taken the time to really know you like Joshua. Even if you won’t admit it, he knows you better than anyone you’ve ever dated. Which is terrifying, since this is all fake. And he hasn’t even known you that long.
So, you do the rational thing and you pull back again. Answer his texts so that he doesn’t send Jeonghan over to figure out what’s wrong, but don’t make solid plans. Talk a lot about a work project that you really need to get done ahead of schedule so that you’re not stressing leading up to the wedding. And you throw in some easy suggestions in the meantime so that it still seems like you’re making an effort.
Lunch on a work day so that it has a set ending time. Which still tugs at your heartstrings a bit because he takes a longer lunch just to meet you closer to where you work.
An event where your parents purchased a table for charity because he’s in high demand with your family around. And he can’t be as affectionate.
His Open Mic Nights, but with the excuse that you can’t stay too late because of your project and he should stick around with his friends. You’ll get home safely.
Small little things that keep you around him and keep up your conversations while still giving you time to breathe. You’re sure that you’re pulling it all off. And then, the wedding is around the corner. The finish line is in sight.
You: I’m not going to the wedding
You: you don’t have to come pick me up
Joshua: what are you talking about?
You: i’m not going
Joshua: but it’s literally in a few hours?
You: yeah and i don’t wanna go, so you’re off the hook
You: thanks for everything, but you don’t have to pretend anymore
Even if you know you’re being a little petulant, you don’t really care. This whole thing was supposed to be about protecting your heart. Protecting your pride. Not showing up to your cheating ex-fiance's wedding alone and looking like some kind of loser. It was not supposed to be about your heart getting clobbered anyway. So, you’re doing the only logical thing you can think of. Ignoring your problems. Avoiding both the wedding and Joshua. What you’re not prepared for, though you should be, is the knock that comes at your door half an hour later.
Joshua is on the other side of the door and your heart actually stops. He’s got his tux on and his hair styled back off his face. His eyes are soft as they take you in, noting that you have your hair and make up done. Though, you’re still in your sweats. You got at least that far before you decided this was a stupid fucking decision.
“Can I come in?” he asks when you don’t say anything.
“Sure,” you say and step aside.
“You look like you’re getting ready,” he comments once he’s inside.
“I was, until I texted you,” you answer. “Speaking of, why are you here?”
“Because we had plans,” he says.
“Yeah to go see my ex-fiance marry the girl he cheated on me with. Oh, and for you to pretend to be my boyfriend so I didn’t look pathetic,” you say with a huff.
“You’re not pathetic. He’s an asshole,” Joshua says. He doesn’t swear often, so it catches you a little off guard.
“Well, whatever, you don’t have to go. So, I’m not really sure why you’re here,” you say.
“You’re being so cold. What’s going on?” Joshua asks and reaches out to you. Instead, you duck away from his touch.
“Nothing is going on. It was stupid to care what Johnny thought or to try and save face somehow,” you say.
“It’s not stupid. He hurt you and you didn’t deserve that,” Joshua urges.
“You really don’t know me that well. Maybe I did deserve it. Maybe I was awful to him and he had no choice,” you say.
“We both know that’s not true,” he says.
“Do we?” you challenge.
“Yes, we do,” he presses. “There is nothing you could do that justifies cheating instead of just breaking it off. But, I also know you didn’t do anything wrong. Jeonghan and I talked about it.”
“You spoke to Jeonghan about my relationship behind my back?” you question.
“What is going on? We’ve been hanging out for weeks and getting to know each other. I just wanted to know more about someone I was going to be helping. And I like knowing you,” Joshua says and you have to look away. You don’t need the reminder of how much time you’ve spent with him.
“Yeah, sorry about all that time we wasted. I’ll pay you back for the tux or anything else you had to buy to pretend to date me,” you say and he looks genuinely confused.
“I don’t…want you to pay me back for anything. It wasn’t a waste of time. I did this because I wanted to,” he says.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to pretend anymore because I’m not going to the stupid fucking wedding. It was a really bad idea in the first place,” you say.
Joshua clenches his jaw and looks away. Like maybe he’s frustrated. “What is going on? Do you still have feelings for him?”
“For who? Johnny?” you ask, so insanely caught off guard that you forget you’re mad.
“Yes,” Joshua says tightly.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you bark out.
“Well? You’re being really weird and now you don’t want to go to a wedding that we’ve been planning on,” he starts.
“Yeah, which should make you happy, since you don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore,” you say.
“Because you’re still in love with Johnny,” Joshua finishes like he hadn’t even heard you.
“Oh my god,” you nearly scream. “I’m not fucking in love with Johnny. This isn’t about him.”
“So, you don’t want to go to the wedding and it has nothing to do with him? That doesn’t make any sense,” he says.
“No, I don’t want to keep doing this,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “I don’t want to keep pretending to date you when I -”
You clamp your mouth shut. Unable to believe that you almost blurted out how you feel.
“When you what?” he challenges. “What? Is it that bad being around me? Is that it? Are you just sick of me? Ready to toss me aside?”
You laugh bitterly, not even able to appreciate the irony in the situation. “No, Joshua, I don’t want to toss you aside.”
“Then, what? What am I supposed to think when you’ve been pushing me away for the last couple weeks? And I have to act like I haven’t noticed all the ways you’ve kept me at arm’s length since we went to the winery. Why did you just decide, literally today, that you don’t want to go to the wedding after all?” he asks, rambling. He’s pacing in front of you. “Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?”
“Because I don’t want to get hurt!” you blurt out. “Because I don’t want to go to my fucking scumbag of an ex’s wedding where everyone is going to be giving me these looks of pity or focusing on my relationship with him when all I want is this.”
“This? What?” he asks, coming to a stop.
“This, Joshua, you and me. Having this just all be pretend is breaking my heart. I can’t keep doing it. It was supposed to keep me from getting my heart broken. It sucks and I hate it and I just wish it wasn’t pretend. I don’t want to go to the wedding and have you be so sweet and kind and caring when I’m going to know it has an expiration date. That it’s all just been for show,” you admit. You turn away, clutching your arms around your center because you’re so tired. And so exposed. So vulnerable. It’s awful.
The tears won’t stop, so you don’t notice how Joshua has closed the space between you until he wraps his arms around you from behind. Pulls you back against his chest and presses a kiss into your hair.
“So, let’s stop saying it’s pretend,” he whispers.
“What?” you whisper back.
He turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him and gently brushes away the tears. “Let’s stop saying it’s fake. It doesn’t feel fake, does it?”
“No,” is all you can manage.
“So, it’s not fake and we’re not pretending,” he says.
“But,” you start to protest.
“I knew I was in trouble, really deep trouble, as soon as we left your parents’ house. I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he says as he gently runs a thumb across your cheek to wipe away a tear . Your eyes go wide.
“That was barely a week in,” you say and he just shrugs. “And I’d dumped all my bullshit on you.”
“I think that’s actually what made me like you so much,” he says. “It was supposed to be fake and we were trying to get to know each other well enough to pull it off. But, instead, I just realized you were actually perfect.”
“Perfect? I was broken,” you joke and he shakes his head.
“No, you’ve been hurt. Who hasn’t? You’re also strong, kind, funny, a fiercely loyal friend, and one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met, inside and out,” he says.
“That’s so, you’re so sweet,” you say and try to hide your face. He doesn’t let you. “You like me?”
“I’ve liked you the whole time. I did think it was a date, after all,” he says. “And do you think I’m that affectionate with everyone?”
“We were pretending,” you argue.
“I wasn’t,” he argues back.
“Our closest friends thought you were,” you disagree.
“And was anyone else there in my apartment when I was still being affectionate?” he asks.
“Well, no, but…” you start.
“I heard you say always,” he tells you.
“You did?” you ask, sure that it’s been your secret this whole time.
“We don’t have to go to the wedding. But, if it’s just because you don’t want this to be over with me, then it’s not going to be over. I’m yours for as long as you want me,” he says so earnestly it nearly makes you blush.
“Careful, you might get sick of me,” you joke.
He puts a finger under your chin so he can look you in the eyes. “I’ll say it again. I’m yours as long as you want me. I won’t get sick of you.”
“I…” you start and don’t know where to go. So you do the only thing you can think of and kiss him. It’s clear he’s a little caught off guard, but he recovers quickly. His arms wrap around you to hold you tight against him. It’s the first time you’ve really kissed him and you’re so screwed because he really is perfect at this too.
“So, do I get you for the rest of today?” he asks.
You take in his tuxedo again, for real this time. Appreciating how well it’s tailored and how amazing he looks. With a sigh, you say, “you know, it’s a shame to waste such a nice tux.”
“Are you…I thought we weren’t going,” he stutters.
“I’m probably gonna have to fix my makeup in the car, but why not? I want to show off my super hot and very real boyfriend,” you say and watch him choke on air.
“You can’t just say…” he starts.
“Damn, sick of me already?” you tease.
“You know I’m not,” he answers and moves to follow you.
“No, no. You don’t get to see me changing. I’ll be back out in a second,” you say.
You’re in the middle of shimmying into your dress when you realize that you do still have a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out. This whole situation has been unusual, though, so it probably makes sense that there isn’t a template. Once you have your shoes on, you walk back into the living room, prepared to say something, only to find Joshua speechless.
“You look…” he starts.
“You’ve seen the dress already,” you say and smile.
“Not on you. Not in person. You look amazing,” he says and crosses to pull you into his arms. “Are you sure we have to go?”
“Yes,” you say and swat him. “But, I do know we have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m not in a rush,” he says and allows you to step away.
“We might need to be in a bit of a rush,” you say, checking the time and gathering all your things.
“Let’s go, then,” Joshua says and offers his arm.
The wedding passes in kind of a blur. In truth, you barely even register Johnny or what he’s doing beyond the actual ceremony. The reception is so massive that it’s easiest just to focus on the people around you. Especially when you’re at a table with your friends. Thankfully, you’re not at a table with your parents or your sister. It does mean, though, that you’re sitting next to Hyejin, who has definitely realized that something shifted between you and Joshua. So, she’s trying to sneak in a question any time she can. Which is hard, given that Joshua is more attached to you than ever. And Hyejin doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to you. All you manage to let her know is that it’s real now and that you’ll fill her in after the wedding. (You’re also thankful that people seem to be cooing over Taehyung and Mimi since they’re the shiny new topic.)
It’s also nice to have Joshua there because he’s a built in way to excuse yourself from any conversation that you don’t want to be part of. It’s easy to just say you’re going to go back to the table. Or, in the case of a good song coming on, he’ll be quick to drag you to the dance floor and away from whatever conversation you’re stuck in. He’s a good dancer, too. You don’t miss the way Hyejin catches your eye when the first slow song comes on and he pulls you close to him. But, that’s a conversation for another day. All you wanted was to appreciate the way his hand felt on your lower back or your hand felt in his.
When it was finally time to leave, Joshua led you out of the event, arm around you to guide you. Neither of you were drunk, but you had still hired someone to take you to and from the wedding anyway. A gift from your parents to appreciate you “doing the right thing” and coming to the wedding. For the sake of the families. It made you roll your eyes at the time, yet you’re thankful now. It would be far better than having to take an Uber or trying to get a room at the hotel (and risking seeing everyone else staying there the next morning). The ride home also gave you the chance to talk. Really talk. Neither of you cared much that someone else was driving (and he had the partition up, anyway), as you talked about your feelings honestly for the first time.
As it turned out, you had a lot to say. Both of you. You hadn’t been nearly as good at hiding your feelings from Joshua as you had been at hiding them from yourself. He had hoped you were going to admit them to him after that night at his apartment. Instead, you avoided him. Yes, he knew that you had been avoiding him. You also weren’t very good at picking up on the signs he dropped about his feelings for you. He admitted that he could have just said something, but he was trying to be subtle so he didn’t scare you off. Trying to let his actions speak through more affection. You admit you were scared to think it was anything more than it actually was. Scared of your feelings. Scared of getting hurt again. Joshua completely understands that and admits that he’s a little scared, too, because you’re definitely more important to him than he was anticipating. He’s also confident that you can work through it together. It gives you a feeling of hope. Makes everything about you feel lighter. You see that relief reflected in Joshua’s eyes when they scan yours.
The car pulls to a stop and he gets out first. He holds his hand out to help you out of the car. You’re not really sure what comes over you.
“Come up with me,” you ask, but it’s more of a statement.
He hesitates, conflicted. “I don’t know if I should.”
“Why?” you ask, clearly confused.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave,” he answers and you smile.
“Then stay,” you shrug, “at least for breakfast.”
Without waiting for him to respond, you turn and head for the front door of the building. It means you miss the way he freezes in place, but you can guess at that by how long it takes before he catches up to you. He’s unusually quiet and still beside you as you go up the elevator and then behind you as you unlock the door.
“I’m gonna go change,” you announce after you drop your keys by the door. You look back at Joshua, appreciating him in the tuxedo one last time. “I’ve got some clothes in the spare room that should fit. They’re Jeonghan’s ”
You take the opportunity to breathe for a second, to let it settle in that you asked Joshua to come in with you and stay the night. Then, you set about changing out of your dress. Carefully clean your face free of the make-up. Brush through your hair and twist it back off of your face. Once you’re in comfy clothes and bare faced, you head back out into the living room. It’s odd that you don’t even feel self-conscious about Joshua seeing you like this, you’re instantly comfortable.
Joshua’s back is to you in the kitchen. When he turns around, you see that he’s put together a little platter of snacks. You also were right, the t-shirt and shorts he picked out seem to fit him well. Jeonghan is a little slighter than Joshua, but he wears most of his clothes on the baggier side.
“Thanks for the clothes,” he says when you both meet on the couch. “I was worried when you said you had spare clothes they were gonna be from an ex or Johnny or something.”
Your laugh is sudden and clearly catches Joshua off guard. “I wouldn’t have kept any of Johnny’s clothes. I gave them all to charity.”
“I’m sure he was thrilled with that,” Joshua laughs.
“They made a killing reselling them,” you laugh in response. “Wanna watch something?”
“Sure, you pick,” he says.
You start clicking through your saved list to find something that the two of you can watch. Once you settle on something, Joshua motions you over. Even if you want to pretend you’re considering it, you can’t. Every part of you wants to be close to him. When you slide over, he pulls you in tighter to his body and you fit like you always belonged there with him.
If you thought he was physically affectionate when he was pretending, it’s nothing compared to now that he knows you’re both in this. He has one hand running along your arm or the other along your thigh. Sometimes he reaches out to take one of your hands. Other times he presses kisses into your hair. It’s pretty clear right away that he’s not paying much attention to the show.
If you’re being honest, you’re not really either.
Everything is distracting. The way his fingers on the bare skin of your arm raises goosebumps. The way his kiss in your hair makes your eyes close in appreciation. The way he squeezes your thigh and short circuits your brain.
You can’t help it. You turn your head so that you can look at him. He caresses your cheek, so gentle. Runs his thumb across your lip. You’re holding your breath, just waiting to see what he’s going to do. When you feel like you’re going to go a little bit insane, his hand moves to the back of your neck and pulls you in. It’s exactly like the first kiss before the wedding. At least, at first. It’s gentle, but full of so much desire. It’s also slow, like there’s no rush to any of it.
The position is really uncomfortable, though. You shift your legs so they’re draped over one of Joshua’s. He doesn’t miss a beat. It just allows him to pull you closer. There’s something incredibly intimate in kissing him like this. There’s this weird contrast of desire and comfort. It’s heated, but also a little lazy. Like you have all the time in the world. Which you do, you think, now that you’re being honest about your feelings.
When Joshua pulls back from the kiss, you chase his lips for a second before realizing that he’s pulled away. The way he looks at you nearly melts you into the couch.
“I don’t want to assume where this is headed, but maybe we should take it to the bedroom?” he asks. It’s cute, the way he’s a little shy. Like you didn’t invite him in to spend the night. Yeah, you’re in way over your head. At least it seems like he might be too.
You pull your legs back so that you can stand up. His eyes track your movements as you reach your hand back to him. He accepts it without a word and lets you lead him to the bedroom. Even if he’s seen your bedroom before, this feels different. You’re waiting for him to look around, but his eyes are glued on you. Joshua even waits for you to lead him all the way to the bed, so you direct him to sit on the edge.
Once Joshua is seated, you step between his legs and tilt your head down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around you so that he can pull you against him. There’s barely any space between you. It sends a little bit of a shiver as his hands run up your back and back down. The touch is gentle and caring. Like he’s trying to put everything he feels into it. Something about it just makes you feel so insanely safe.
He’s the one to break the kiss again, but this time it’s to move back onto the bed and grab your hand to pull you along with him. It’s easy to just follow suit and get comfortable laying next to him, bodies facing each other. The kissing picks up when your lips meet again. Joshua kisses you breathless with a passion you’re eager to explore. One of his hands rests on your hip, casually sliding beneath your shirt and caressing up your side. You press your body further into his and capture his moan with a kiss. It feels like you’re a bit drunk off each other.
When Joshua’s hand moves back down, you take the chance to throw your leg over his hip, allowing you to press further into him and feel how this is turning him on. Part of you knows that he’s still waiting for you to set the pace. Or that he wants things to be a little slower. So, you help him out and roll the two of you over so that you’re straddled on top of him. Putting his hands on your hips, you lean over to kiss him again. In this position, you can also grind into his lap. You delight in how he’s already getting hard beneath you, enjoy the way his hands grip the soft flesh of your hips.
He pulls back and looks at you with blown pupils. “Baby, please don’t tease me.”
“No silly pet name?” you tease him.
“Not when you’re getting me this turned on like a horny teenager,” he whines.
“You mean like this?” you ask, injecting as much innocence as you can when you slowly drag your clothed pussy across his dick again.
Joshua throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, and grips you tighter. “Yes.”
“So you don’t like it?” you ask, grinding a little more.
“Fuck,” he hisses out. And somehow that’s the thing that almost breaks you. Why is that one swear so hot on his lips?
Without saying anything, you sit up a little bit, still making sure you’re straddling Joshua, so that you can pull his shirt off him. Your eyes go wide because you’ve never seen him shirtless. You’ve seen him in well fitted suits or shirts, but this is entirely different. His chest looks like it was sculpted by an artist. All your attention is on your fingers running along his chest and you don’t see the way it makes him a little shy.
His hands reach for your own shirt, playing with the hem like he’s asking permission. So, you move his hands aside and pull it over your head, leaving your skin bare as well. You watch him drink you in, feeling almost empowered by the desire you see in his eyes. He pulls you back towards him so that he can get one of your breasts into his mouth. The way he teases your nipple with his tongue has you clenching around nothing. You can feel how wet it’s making you and try your best not to squirm when he moves from one breast to the other.
“I need you,” you utter.
“I need you, too,” he says against your skin. His hips buck up into you almost involuntarily.
You slide off of him and pull your shorts down and he gasps that you don’t have any underwear on. It isn’t like you were expecting anything, you just wanted to be prepared. While he’s still a little drunk on the sight of you fully naked, you help him discard the rest of his clothing. The sight of his cock springing free, precum leaking out, has you wanting to get your mouth on him.
But, you’re realizing, what you really want is to feel him inside you. After so much tension and wondering, you just want to have this moment together. You want to be as close as two people can possibly get. You want all the intimacy and to be able to see his face. It’s this thought that pushes you back to the bed to lay with him.
Joshua repositions and runs a hand down your body. Lets his fingers run along your thighs and tease their way up to gather some of your wetness. Your eyes close as he runs a finger up your slit. It’s such a little amount of contact and it makes you moan anyway.
“Damn, are you this wet just for me?” he asks and presses a kiss into the first bit of your skin he can reach.
“I want to feel you,” you admit. Joshua makes you press a finger into your pussy, but you stop him. Confusion takes over his features.
“I thought…do you not want this?” he asks.
“I do, but I want…I want all of you,” you admit. “I want to feel you deep inside of me. I want to be completely ruined by you. I want to come together.”
“Shit,” he hisses, hand stilling against your body. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” you ask.
“I want to taste you soon,” he says, pressing a kiss into your shoulder.
The thought of him between your legs makes you shiver. It’s almost enough to forget that you want this first time to be together. “Deal.”
“Do you have condoms? I wasn’t exactly expecting…” he says, trailing off.
“That drawer,” you say and point.
He rolls himself off of the bed to open the drawer. You’re not sure why you expect his hands to be a little unsteady when he rips open the wrapper and rolls it onto himself, but he’s so calm. Maybe it’s just you that’s a little nervous. At least, that’s what you think until you catch the look on his face. It has to be the same as yours, naked want mixed with a little bit of uncertainty. Everything else has been so easy with you, what if this is where it goes wrong?
“Just lay back,” he urges you, voice calming any lingering nerves. His voice drops to a whisper, like the next statement is just for him. “You’re so beautiful, every single inch of you.”
It makes your heart constrict in a way that you’re not really prepared for. It would be nice if your feelings could stop flooding in all at once like a dam breaking. It’s overwhelming. You do as he says, though, and lean back against the pillow. Joshua gently spreads your legs apart and takes another moment to appreciate you. He can’t seem to help himself from running a finger along your entrance.
Even though he would fully be within his rights to tease you, he doesn’t. He lines himself up at your entrance and looks to you for final confirmation. All you can manage is a nod. You know he wants to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. So, he accepts the nods and slowly presses into you.
“Fuck,” you hiss as you adjust to him.
“Are you okay?” he worries.
“Feels good,” you say with a slight whine. “It’s just been a bit.”
He presses the rest of the way into you and then stills so you can get used to him. It’s really overwhelming. Not just because you’re finally feeling him inside of you. More so because he’s looking at you with more adoration than you’ve ever felt in your life. Like this is it for him. Like you’re it for him. It’s too early to be thinking of love, but you really don’t know if anyone has ever loved you so completely. You think he’s probably it for you too.
Once he finally starts to move, you know it’s going to be over entirely too fast. He starts with slow thrusts, testing what you want. You dig your fingers into his arms as a way to ground yourself. To anchor yourself to him and in the moment. When he picks up the pace, your mind goes entirely blank. It’s just the right speed. While you love the hard and fast fucking, there’s something so much more intimate about this kind of in between speed.
“God you feel so good,” he whines as he snaps into you again. “So tight and perfect.”
“You’re so - oh my god,” you moan out, unable to finish the sentence as he hits you just right.
Joshua moves one of your legs so that it’s over his shoulder and presses further into you, hitting deeper than you were prepared for.
“Fuck, Joshua, holy shit,” you scream out.
“Love the sound of my name on your lips,” he manages as his thrusts pick up pace.
You want to respond that you love saying it, want to say anything, but the thrusts are entirely too much. As if it wasn’t already too much, Joshua adjusts again so that he can press his thumb against your clit. He rubs circles in time with his thrusts and you think that you might see stars. You throw your head back, eyes pressed shut.
“Look at me, baby. I wanna see you when you come,” he urges, his own voice sounding ragged.
Despite wanting to focus on the pressure building between you, you do as he asks. Your eyes meet his and it’s that look that makes that coil snap. You’re coming hard and digging your fingers into whatever you can find to release some of the tension in your body. This might be the best orgasm you’ve had.
When you come back to this plane, Joshua has stilled inside of you. One of his hands gently caresses your face as he mumbles quiet praises. It’s so impossibly tender.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, you can move,” you assure him.
“Thank fuck,” he mumbles.
His pace now picks up to something fast and hard with one of his large hands anchoring your thigh to his body. Your hands grip any part of his body that they can reach and you relish the way he hisses when your nails drag patterns down his skin. Marking him so that he belongs to you. Just as you belong so completely to him.
It seems impossible but you can feel the tension building low in your stomach again. His thrusts are so hard that you feel like his cock might split you open and something about it just works for you. You hadn’t thought anything about him would translate to this kind of hard and fast sex, but it’s somehow better than you could have imagined. With him so focused on chasing his own high, you rub circles on your clit to bring yourself over the edge again. You tumble over the edge for a second time just as Joshua’s thrusts get erratic. You do your best to take over the rhythm before slowing down.
Joshua collapses on top of you, cock still buried in your pussy, and sighs. His weight on top of you feels like the best security you’ve ever had. Your hands find their way into his hair, gently stroking and scratching his scalp. As he comes back around, he presses his head further into your hand.
“Hey,” you say when he looks up at you.
“You’re perfect,” he responds and you can’t keep the smile off your face.
“You were pretty perfect yourself,” you say.
“Am I too heavy, I could…” he starts and you pull him tighter against you.
“Don’t you dare,” you warn.
He doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles his face into your neck. But, you know that you can’t stay like this forever. So you don’t protest when he gently pulls himself up and gets out of the bed. You’re right behind him, leading him into the bathroom so that you can get both of you cleaned up.
After getting cleaned up, dressed, and doing your respective night time routines, you and Joshua are settled back into your bed (on top of a fresh set of sheets). Although you’ve never been much for falling asleep cuddling, you can’t imagine leaving any space between you and him. When he wraps himself around you, all you can do is smile and settle deeper into his perfect chest. Honestly, every inch of this man is perfect and you’d be annoyed if you weren’t so helplessly attached to him.
And it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. You wake up with his chest pressed into your back and his arm still wrapped around you. It sounds like he’s still asleep based on his breathing and so you’re just considering slipping out of the bed. He moves in his sleep and pulls you tighter against him, making you feel that he’s semi-hard again. You press back against him, almost testing if he’s really asleep.
He’s not.
Joshua’s hand, already against the skin of your stomach and underneath your shirt, moves further up to your breast. His hand squeezes your breast and then he brushes his thumb over your nipple. Your body responds to his touch embarrassingly fast, which only seems to spur him on. He’s got your nipple between his fingers before you press back into him again, wiggling your ass against his dick without pretending you’re doing otherwise.
“Good morning beautiful,” Joshua says in a raspy voice into your ear.
The warmth of his breath along with the pressure of him rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger has you suppressing a moan. In the quiet of the morning, he hears it anyway. He removes his hand from your breast and you want to pout at the loss of contact. That is, until his hand works down between your legs, roughly grabbing hold of your pussy through your shorts. He runs his middle finger through your folds, likely feeling the way your shorts are getting soaked through already.
“Feels like someone might have woken up ready,” he says into your ear, voice sinfully low. His finger is still slowly teasing you through the damn material of your shorts. Somehow that makes it feel hotter.
“I wonder why,” you retort, undermined by the way you squirm under his touch.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks and stops his movements.
Your hand immediately moves to his. To guide him back to your cunt. “Please don’t. Want to see what those hands can do.”
His mouth is still by your ear, so you hear the dark chuckle and feel the air tickle you. He moves your hand aside along with your shorts as he slips his hand inside the fabric. His middle finger resumes the previous pattern almost lazily. You’re about to ask him to stop teasing you when he presses a finger inside you suddenly.
“Fuck,” you nearly scream.
“Is someone a little sensitive?” he teases. He’s a fucking demon and you would gladly sell your soul so he didn’t stop.
The way he pumps his finger inside of you is entirely too slow. But, when you try to meet his rhythm, he stops. Just when you think you might actually die, he inserts a second finger. It makes your back arch, pressing your ass further against his now very hard cock. He hisses and pulls his fingers out from you. As you’re turning over to adjust your position, you see him insert his fingers into his mouth. Holy shit. He really is the hottest man you’ve ever met.
Instead of letting you carry on in any way, he pushes himself up and repositions. You’re not really sure what he’s doing until he reaches for your shorts to pull them off. His focus is on you, silently asking for permission again. All you can do is nod.
“Told you that I wanted to taste you,” he reminds you once your shorts are off.
“Are you sure…” you start to ask before he cuts you off.
His head snaps up so he can meet your eyes. “I’ve been waiting to taste you for weeks.”
That shuts you up pretty effectively. What can you really say in response to that? Anything you might have said dies in your throat as he licks a messy stripe up your folds. He quickly settles, using one hand to keep you spread open for him, and licks into you. It’s all you can do to keep your eyes on him as his head bobs between your legs. You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him in place even though you know he’s not going anywhere. (And okay, maybe it’s more to ground yourself to him than anything else.)
It shouldn’t be surprising that his attentiveness translates this well, but it is a little surprising how well he seems to know your body. The way he knows just when to switch from licking into your cunt to flicking his tongue over your clit. The way he knows when he needs to add a finger and then a second. The way he can tell everything your body needs before you even realize it.
By the time he pulls himself up your body, he’s got you nearly panting from the build up. The kiss he presses to your lips is sloppy and a little desperate. Like you’re both totally fucked out. His fingers inside you keep a relentless pace as he hooks them, hitting that perfect spot.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you yell out, breaking the kiss. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire in an entirely different way from the night before.
There’s nothing in the world but Joshua and the way he coaxes everything out of you. The way he has you squirting on his fingers. You’re not even sure if the praise coming out of your mouth makes any sense and you’re definitely not sure what he says in return. It’s all you can do just to appreciate the moment.
You think that you’re going to get the chance to get your mouth around his cock now that he’s given you another mind blowing orgasm. But, by the time you get your breathing under control, you see that he’s rolling a condom from your drawer onto himself. He pulls you to the edge of the bed so that your legs are hanging off. It’s instantly stronger than you’re expecting from him and pulls a gasp from you.
Without even thinking, your legs fall open. Joshua seems to have found a bottle of lube, too, and spreads it over his cock. When he lines himself up at your entrance, you expect him to ease in like the night before. He doesn’t. He snaps his full length inside of you in one motion and you’re so overstimulated, but it feels so good.
“Fuck me, Joshua, oh my fucking god,” you say and clench down around his dick.
“Shit, that feels so good,” he hisses.
“You feel so good,” you moan.
“You have no idea,” he answers and starts thrusting.
It’s a complete haze from the moment you hear his skin slap against your own. Every coherent thought leaves your head. There is nothing in the world but you and him and the way you make each other feel. He leans over your body, crowds your space. Steals sloppy, desperate kisses. Praises you constantly and in broken sentences. It’s all you can do just to hold on, so sore and so unable to stop.
Your hands grip into the sheets around you that are completely rumpled. You try everything to keep your eyes on Joshua’s face. Memorize the way he looks when he’s concentrating. Appreciate how totally gone he is because you’re sure it’s the same look you have. Delight in the way his eyes get even wider when you clench your pussy around him.
It feels a little like he’s using your body to chase his own high, except there’s total comfort in that. All you want is for him to feel as good as you do. All you want is for him to get that release, especially since you haven’t been able to get your mouth on his cock yet.
“Harder Joshua, please. I know you’re close,” you beg and he obliges immediately.
Even though you’re trying to meet the rhythm, you can’t. It’s too erratic and too unpredictable. So you pull him down to you again and kiss him. Slip your tongue inside his mouth and let the kisses get as sloppy as they need to. You feel how close he is and only kiss him harder. He breaks the kiss for the last few thrusts, groaning as he comes. You’re right there with him.
(Later, he tells you that he’s never seen anyone hotter than you when you come. It would make you embarrassed in any other situation. But, you realize that you’ve never been with anyone that’s come close to him, so maybe it’s okay to accept his praise. Maybe you deserve it. Maybe this is the person that you’ve been waiting for.)
Now, you really do have to get up and clean up. As tempting as Joshua’s offer to shower together is, you don’t want it to turn into shower sex because that’s just not sexy (or practical). Neither one of you can seem to guarantee keeping their hands off the other. Instead, you tell him that he can use the shower in your guest room. It’s fully stocked and there are still more spare clothes in there. He insists that he should get some laundry going because you must be running out of clean sheets and you definitely made a mess.
With Joshua cleaning up some around the house, you’re the first out of the shower and dressed. Pleasantly sore in the kind of way you really enjoy. You’re sitting on the couch and scrolling through your phone, trying to decide if you want to order food or just cook what you already have. Before you can make a decision, there’s a knock at the door. It’s impossible to guess who it could be. Even Jeonghan wouldn’t bother you like this. Although he’s been texting asking for an update after you told him you finally got your shit together, he wouldn’t show up like this.
When you open the door, you’d give anything for it to just be Jeonghan. Instead, you see a face that you’ve been seeing entirely too much lately.
“What are you doing here, Johnny?” you ask with a heavy sigh.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
“Why?” you ask.
“Come on, don’t be like that,” he pleads.
“Johnny, it’s the day after your wedding. What the fuck are you doing on my doorstep?” you ask, arms crossed.
“Are you really going to make me do this in the hallway?” he asks.
“I don’t see any reason to invite you inside,” you retort.
“It’s about your, uh, boyfriend,” Johnny says a little awkwardly.
“Joshua?” you ask because that actually piques your interest a bit.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“No. What about Joshua?” you ask.
“This is really awkward. It would be better if we were sitting down…” Johnny starts.
“My little honeybun, is everything okay?” Joshua asks from inside the apartment. He must be out of the shower.
“Babe, we talked about the pet names,” you remind him as he joins you at the door.
“Oh, uh, I wasn’t expecting him to be here,” Johnny says.
“I’m her boyfriend, so I know why I’m here. What are you doing here?” Joshua says without hiding any disdain.
"Are you really her boyfriend, though?" Johnny challenges.
You stiffen almost imperceptibly, but Joshua must notice it because he wraps an arm around you protectively. "Of course I am. Why are you here?"
“I needed to talk to her,” Johnny says stiffly.
“About you, apparently,” you say with your eyes on Joshua.
“Right, so can you give us a minute?” Johnny asks with his eyes on Joshua.
“No, he can’t. If you have something to say, just say it. Then you can leave us alone,” you say.
“Fine, if you really want it to be like this, fine,” Johnny says. “I knew he looked familiar when I saw him at your parents’ house with you. It just took me a while. I ran into him at a couple of functions back when I was in college and traveling all around for my dad.”
“Okay? And? I’m sorry, but I’m not sure why I care,” you say even though you know where he’s going.
“He was always with older women,” Johnny presses.
“Can you just make your point so we can get back to our day?” Joshua asks.
“Fine,” Johnny says, irritated. “The whispers were that women paid him to come to the events with them. That he was selling himself to them.”
You actually snort at the phrasing. It takes you several seconds to compose yourself. You wonder what the point of Johnny doing this and if it’s his way of trying to keep you on the hook. Then you realize that you don’t really care what he does. For the first time in forever, you’re genuinely happy.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Johnny says.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I know how Joshua helped pay for his education. And like why am I going to give him a hard time over seizing an opportunity? There’s nothing wrong with profiting off of someone wanting his company platonically,” you say.
“You’re assuming he wasn’t also sleeping with them,” Johnny says, a little stubborn.
“No, I’m not assuming. I know he wasn’t because we’ve talked about this. He told me all about it without even being prompted. And unlike certain people in my life, I have absolutely no reason to doubt him. I know I can actually trust him,” you say. “It was also years before we met. We’ve all got history.”
“Nice dig,” he says.
“It’s not a dig, Johnny. Not everything is a slight,” you say with a sigh. “Where does Gabby think you are?”
“What?” Johnny asks.
“Your wife,” you clarify. “Where does she think you are?”
“Oh, well, that’s not important. I just said I had some errands to take care of,” Johnny says and you roll your eyes.
“We’re done, Johnny,” you say.
“Wait,” he says as you’re moving to shut the door. “I know I fucked up, but…”
“There’s no buts. Not anymore,” you say. “Maybe there was a point where I’d want to hear the buts and the apologies and all that. I’m happy now, though, and you can’t even tell your wife that you came to see your ex-fiancee the day after your wedding.”
“It’s not like…” he starts and you start to close the door at the same time.
“It’s exactly like that. Goodbye, Johnny,” you say.
The second you close the door, you feel a giant weight lifted off you. You just feel tired. It’s obvious that there aren’t any feelings there anymore, so him pretending he cares as a pretense to see you just feels irritating.
“Are you okay?” Joshua asks, eyes raking over you.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you say.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yeah, really. I think I knew when I saw him at my parents’ house that time you came over for dinner that I was completely over it,” you say. “I’m sorry he tried to bring something like that up or make it a big deal.”
“I don’t care. It’s like you said, I did it and I’m not ashamed of that,” he says. “But, uh, I really wanted to thank you.”
“For what?” you ask.
“For defending me and for saying you trust me,” he says. It makes you a little shy for a second, so you look down.
“Oh, well, it’s not a big deal,” you say.
Joshua closes the space and tilts your chin up to look at him. “It’s a huge deal to me. I know we started pretending, but trusting me means the absolute world.”
“You make it easy,” you admit.
That seems to render him a little speechless as well because all he does is pull you into him in the tightest hug he’s ever given you. Your body fits into his like a puzzle piece. Which sounds sappy, even if in your head, and you don’t actually care. It’s the safest and the happiest you’ve ever felt.
“What?” he asks when you pull away.
“Nothing, I just think this is going to work,” you say.
Joshua smiles at you, that genuine smile he saves for when he’s at his happiest. “Yeah, I think so too.”
i hope you enjoyed this fic! let me know your thoughts 💕
tag list: @aaniag, @gyuminusone, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @straykidswhoo789, @holistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @matchahyuck, @sonybear40, @kimseokgen, @hyneyedfiz, @miujunhui, @graybaeismytae, @hyucksrealm, @livixxn, @sharonxdevi, @coupsystar8, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @pyeonghongrie-main, @naajaeminsgf, @beomesbabe, @magicshop913, @deletingthekisses, @lissiesykes (strikethrough means i couldn't tag, check your settings!)
#joshua smut#joshua fluff#joshua angst#joshua x reader#joshua x you#joshua x y/n#joshua fic#joshua fanfic#seventeen smut#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt x you#svt smut#svt fluff#svt angst#svthub#kvanity#joshua imagines#joshua scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt imagines#svt scenarios#ksmutsociety
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For Lovers At Night pt 1
Melissa meets someone that makes her reevaluate her marriage and life choices. Part 1
Melissa Schemmenti is miserable. Sitting at her kitchen table mindlessly flipping through a book her eyes catch the gold band on her finger. Joe had promised her when they first got married he would get her a diamond as soon as they got money. That was twenty years ago. She thinks back to before she got married, how carefree and happy she was. She spent her free time in clubs, bars, and artists dens, meeting whoever she wanted and most importantly being a mysterious woman that did whatever she wanted.
Sitting at the table she closes the book and stands up knowing Joe won’t be home for dinner anyway. Heading through the house she goes to their rarely shared bedroom and opens the closet door. Pushed to the side of the closet sits an old leather jacket she hasn’t worn since… god she can’t remember. Most likely since she and Joe got back together the last time.
Running her hand along the tough leather a small smile spreads across her lips as memories are brought back to her. The last time she wore it she opted on the back of a gorgeous woman’s motorcycle and flipped Joe off as they rode off into the night together.
That feels like a life time ago now.
Pulling the jacket out she slips it on and fluffs her hair looking in the mirror. She notes the crows feet by her eyes, the way her freckles are more prominent now in her forties. Looking at her hand she flexes her fingers for a moment. Taking a breath she slowly slides her wedding ring off setting it on the dresser.
When Melissa gets in her car she’s not sure where she’s going, but she knows she’s going into the city. Somewhere alive and lit up. Sticking her hand out the window as she drives she moves her fingers along the chilly night air, her ring finger bare for the first time in many years feels weightless against the wind. She can’t help but smile to herself, something she realizes is happening at random.
Driving through the busy streets she goes to an old haunt of hers not even knowing if it’s still open or not. In an old building on one of the bustling streets of Philly sits an old bookshop, The looking Glass, one that she went to many times in her college days and even after. Pulling up she beams seeing the store still there and the open sign on. She could go for a fireball hot toddy and a new book tonight.
Going up to the door a whiff of fresh books and coffee hit her, throwing her right back to her college days. Walking inside everything’s the same. The hot drink section with its bar behind it, the small counter on the opposite side holding the register and other little items for purchase, multiple seating areas, and of course the shelves and shelves of books so cramped together that if it were any other place it would be a problem. Melissa feels at home.
Walking past people she glides through the rows of books looking around and getting lost in her little chunk of paradise she hasn’t had in so long. Across the establishment behind the bar, you nudge your friend nodding towards the row of books the gorgeous redhead is standing near.
“Just your type. Good luck with that one.” He pats your shoulder as he goes to the back room. Looking across the room with a smirk on your lips you watch the redheaded stranger reach up for a book, her hair cascading down her back in waves. She was beautiful.
Across the room Melissa turns around book in hand, flipping through the pages as she walks up to the bar not bothering to look up until she’s standing right in front of you. “Hi, what can I get for ya?”
Melissa looks up with a friendly smile playing with the spine of the book she found. “Can I get a fireball hot toddy, hon?”
“Name for the order?” You ask moving around the work area, black warm cup in hand.
“Melissa.”
“Melissa, I’ve never seen you in here before.” You smile writing her name on the cup in gold flowy letters.
Setting the book down on the counter so she can open her purse, Melissa shrugs. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“I figured. I’d remember someone like you.” You smile making the drink and sliding it on the counter.
Melissa catches the comment and the way you’re looking at her, and feels a warmth spread through her. “I doubt it, hon.” She chuckles handing the money over for her drink.
“If you need another or just wanna have a riveting conversation, I’ll be here.” You gesture to the counter with a laugh.
Melissa looks at your name tag with a smile.
“Thanks, hon. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Moving across the room with her drink and book in hand Melissa sits on a sofa near a dim lamp, just far enough to glance up every so often to the woman behind the bar. Sipping her drink the warmth from the alcohol spreads through her chest giving her a comforting feeling she hasn’t felt in a long while. The woman behind the counter is stunning, and something about her eyes made Melissa feel something deep within her that she can’t place just yet.
Eventually, she gets lost in her book and before she knows it she’s more than halfway through it and the woman from the bar is gently tapping her arm.
“Melissa, we’re closing up.” You hum with a soft smile.
The bar is quieter now, people are heading out and the main lights are on. Melissa looks around the bar and begins to gather her things. “Sorry, I got lost there.” She chuckles.
“Don’t apologize, I would too if I were reading Jane Rules greatest love story,” you smile.
“You’ve read it?” She asks curiously.
“I have, it was a big deal for me in high school.”
“So when, last year?” Melissa teases making you laugh in return.
“No, more like fifteen or so years ago.” You hum. “Something about an older woman breaking free of a metaphorical cage and finding herself with the help of a wild younger woman always intrigued me.” You admit with a smile. “Let me buy it for you.” You offer.
“I can’t let you do that, hon.” Melissa shakes her head.
“Sure you can. I own the place, I can do what I want.”
Melissa looks at you in awe. You looked so young yet here you were with a business and a personality wise beyond your years. Before she can say anything else you’re already wiping down the coffee table with a rag.
“Wow. It really has been a long time since I’ve been here.” Melissa sighs. “Thank you, for the book and the environment.”
“You don’t need to thank me, just come in more often.” You smile.
And that’s what she does.
The next night Melissa makes sure her hair and makeup are to the nines, her jeans are tight, her nails are painted, and she may or may not spray on an extra shot of perfume. Standing in front of the mirror she fluffs her hair once more and takes a breath.
“Where are you going all dressed up?” Joes voice sounds from the bathroom, a rare thing now.
“Barb talked me into a book club.” She offers with ease. He still hadn’t noticed her wedding ring was off and he didn’t ask any questions- just how she liked it.
“That sounds nice. Have a good time.” He says closing the door.
It doesn’t take long for Melissa to grab her keys and make her way to The Looking Glass. Walking through the door there are more people than the night before given the fact it’s a Saturday night. The redhead can’t help but frown, a pang of sadness hitting her as she makes her way in and doesn’t see the woman from the night before.
Slipping through the crowd she gets to the bar looking up at the menu despite being ready to order her wine.
“Melissa!”
Across the floor near the back doorway the mysterious woman from last night appears.
“Hi, hon.” She lets out with a giddy grin, her heart leaping in her chest as you beckon her over with the wave of your hand. “I didn’t think you were here.”
“I’m always here.” You chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” You admit with a smile as you lean against the side of the bar.
“Why’s that?”
“I dunno,” you shrug. “I overthink too much I guess.”
“Yeah, I know the feelin.”
“Come with me, I want your opinion on something.” You hold your hand out to the redhead.
Gently taking the younger woman’s hand Melissa feels her cheeks heat up at the simple touch. Walking to the back hand in hand she can’t help but feel butterflies in her chest.
“So it’s dark and cold now,” you start flicking a single hanging lightbulb on, “but I’m planning on expanding the sitting area to here. Less storage, but more room for pretty girls to browse through the books.” You smirk.
Melissa tips her chin up with a matching smirk meeting your eyes. “Do you flirt with all your customers this way?”
“No, I can’t say I do. Just the one I find incredibly beautiful.”
Smile not faltering, Melissa ducks her head realizing your hands are still entwined together.
“Careful, I might think you’re interested in me.” She chuckles lightly.
“And if I am?” You smile.
“I think,” Melissa whispers, her ringless hand still in the woman’s, “I’d like that.”
Everything Melissa knows goes out the window when she sees the look in your eyes. She thinks of all the shit Joe has put her through the last twenty years and how she can be happy if she allows that for herself. It’s what she desperately wants.
“I can’t stay long tonight, but I’d really like to talk to ya while I’m here.” She offers with a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you can that is.”
“I can,” you smile. “Come with me.”
As Melissa is lead through the back room once again she gently squeezes the woman’s hand as they get to the office in the back of the building. It’s simple, a desk, a large couch, and of course a couple bookshelves.
“Make yourself at home,” you offer letting your hand slip away from the redheads, fingers brushing as you go to the small fridge in the corner. “Do you like wine?”
“It’s usually my go to. I bet you have the really good stuff.”
“I do, but this is regular stuff.” You chuckle taking out the chilled bottle. “I’ll have to break the good stuff out another night.”
“Already thinking about seeing me again?” Melissa grins watching her hands move. The lust she felt for the woman was something she’d not felt in her marriage in over ten years and she forgot how much she missed the warm feeling.
“Not to scare you off, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.” You admit handing her a glass of wine.
“Trust me, hon it takes a lot to scare me off.” Melissa was terrified of what she was doing, but she didn’t need to share that.
“Interesting.” You grin into your own glass. “You seem really mysterious, Melissa.”
“Private mostly,” the redhead shrugs. She’d always been private. Her family and connections were usually all she needed in her life, it even took a full year at Abbott Elementary before she let her best friend, Barb, into her life and that was ten years ago.
“So if I gave you my phone number could I expect a call from a restricted number?” You joke.
“No,” Melissa smiles fishing the device out of her purse, unlocking it before she hands it over. “It’ll be just a number.”
Taking the phone in your palm you type your number in followed by your name handing it back after you hit save.
“I haven’t done this in a long time.” Melissa chuckles nervously, so uncharacteristic of the hard exterior she presents.
Sipping your wine you lick your lips setting the glass down. “Someone hurt you pretty good didn’t they?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Melissa offers thinking of Joes cheating and lack of presence. “I’m kinda gettin over it though.”
“Well, whoever they are, I feel sorry for them.” You smile as the redhead finishes her wine.
Melissa can’t help but duck her head a bit at that. “Thanks, hon.”
“Tell me about them,” you prompt leaning back in your seat.
Melissa sobers up immediately at the question. How could she tell a practical stranger, one she was incredibly attracted to, but still a stranger none the less, that she hated her husbands guts and wanted out before she got any older?
“If I answer you have to tell me something important about you.” She shoots back.
“Deal,” you nod with a smile.
“I-“ Melissa breathes out unsure of where to start, “My ex husband made me miserable. He cheated, rarely came home, expected all the cliche housewife cliche things.” She shrugs through the lie. Yes it was a lie, but not entirely.
“What an idiot.” You shake your head unable to break eye contact with the woman. There was something behind her eyes that you couldn’t yet place, but would soon find out.
“How did you buy this place?” Melissa asks breaking the tension.
“It was left to me. I started working here when I turned eighteen and I’ve been here ever since.” You smile. “The original owner helped me out a lot in college and when she retired, she sold ir to me cheap.”
“That’s amazing,” Melissa smiles. “I always loved it here and I’m happy to see it’s the same.”
“I do my best to keep it up and get more people in here. As much as I love talking about my job, what do you do?”
“I teach second grade.” She offers. During your back and forth, Melissa keeps that same look in her eyes and it only changes when she says she has to leave. It changes from whatever it was before to sadness.
“Let me walk you to your car?” You ask hopefully.
“Yeah, hon. I’d like that.”
Getting up you rest your hand on her lower back as you two walk out to the main part of the building and out the front door.
“That’s it there?” You ask with a laugh spotting a black two door truck.
“That’s me.”
“You get more and more interesting.” You grin as Melissa unlocks the truck. “I hope I hear from you soon.”
“You will, hon.” Melissa smiles while she climbs in.
“Drive safe.” You offer with a nod, settling your hands in your back pockets as you watch the truck drive off into the busy night. Turning around you go back into the bar with a smile knowing you met someone special.
#abbott elementary#lisa ann walter#melissa Schemmenti#melissa Schemmenti x reader#Melissa Schemmenti x you#Melissa Schemmenti imagine
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f.g.w. | Trouble
Summary: After the war, Fred met Y/N at St Mungo's Hospital. At that time, they both thought the other was trouble. In the end, they both discovered all the meanings of that word.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!healer!reader
Warnings: Mention of death and near death experience, injuries, blood, probably incorrect medical notions, some swearing, happy ending
Word Count: 5.1k
Masterlist
“Uh-oh”, George said, practically running from the front of the store up to the cashier counter. “Trouble.”
His twin brother had no time to ask what was going on; the doorbell rang, indicating a new customer had entered the shop. Fred blinked and suddenly, George was somehow nowhere to be seen. Steady steps coming up to the register resonated in the boutique that was as usual quite empty on this Tuesday morning. No need for him to look to the front door, he knew he was indeed up for trouble.
Turning to face his worst nightmare - a woman named Y/N, furiously making her way to him - Fred put his best customer face on. Her face was wearing the same frown as the day he met her at Saint Mungo's Hospital. He, that day, had been called in after some kid had used one of his products out of its original purpose and nobody there could work out how to reverse back the spell.
Holding his breath, Fred watched her walking toward him until she made it to the counter and laid on it what seemed to have been one of these kid magic wands they sold at the store. From the state of it, Fred knew he was in for a lecture… Again.
“This was up someone’s arse.”
“Godric!” Fred immediately shouted. He had seen a lot of things - their customers were somehow as inventive as they were - but he had never expected such things. With a swift move of his wrist, he made it disappear. “How did it even get there?”
“I did not ask!” she shouted back.
Y/N had been an official graduated healer for nearly a year now. She had started her curriculum the year before the war started, just after graduating from Hogwarts, and sometimes after a twenty-four-hours shifts like the one she just had, she was regretting the black magic spells injuries. Nothing compared to the lot of injuries she was dealing with from the twins jokes shop products.
“Seriously, please just-” she sighed, passing a hand on her face out of frustration. “It’s all I deal with all day, I can’t anymore.”
In that last year, Fred and she had become some kinds of acquaintances - Y/N was regularly paying the twins a visit at the end of her shifts. Though he acted annoyed most of the time, he was actually quite fond of her. His favourite thing about her was how she would respond to anything he would throw at her. He did not even know her that long, yet he already knew just how to push her buttons.
So, of course, he couldn’t resist doing it again today.
“You should see what we have in the works, then.”
Frown quite not leaving the lines of her face yet, she followed him in the back shop where he meticulously explained her all about this very new product he had thought about that same morning – a new invention that not even George knew about it.
Biting his inner cheek, he watched impatiently the line between her eyebrows grew even deeper as she read the parchment with the ingredients for the product: a potion. This was not the first time he had pitched a new product idea to her. In the past, George had even insisted they presented her with some of their riskier ideas. She had never turned down any of them, even encouraging them to work on them further - though she had them promise to send a patronus to her if they were testing anything she thought would be deadly. Fred was convinced that, despite her grumpy attitude, she actually quite enjoyed being asked for help.
“You can’t mix this quantity of octopus powder and erumpent horn together,” she finally spoke.
“Why not?”
Y/N looked back at Fred, her eyes scanning his face to know if he was being serious. As if he ever had been serious. “Have you seriously never listened to anything Snape ever taught you?” Quite frankly, he had listened to it much more than he would admit, but he wouldn’t tell her that. “I am serious, Fred,” she scowled.
“Alright, alright!” Fred rose his hands in defence. He knew from the way Y/N sighed that her concern for his own physical integrity was genuine. Just like probably everyone else, she was aware of what had happened to him during the battle of Hogwarts – he had a severe brain injury that left him in the hospital for months and from which he was still recovering. Unlike anyone else, she didn’t remind him constantly what a little fragile thing he was and how he must be taking it easy. Though he probably wouldn’t admit it to her face, he was grateful to her.
Fred was rather interested on what she was thinking of his new idea, so he knew better than to continue annoying her. She made him nervous taking her sweet time to examine the parchment. He couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing or not. She had been more enthusiastic when George and he pitched her other ideas. Perhaps he had just gotten himself overexcited about this new product; perhaps it was just bad.
“So, what do you think?” Fred asked when he couldn’t take it anymore.
“It sounds good,” she reassured him, without looking at him. “It’s the ingredients I am not sure about. I’m not sure it would work,” she mumbled, still focus on the parchment, and Fred could nearly see the cogs of her brain working behind her eyes.
“I’ll work on this,” he assured.
Y/N only nodded in answer. Fred could see something was bugging her, but she couldn’t quite tell what. He studied the expression of her face; how her frown had changed – from the grumpy one to one of concentration. He noticed how she would scrunch her nose ever so slightly as she focused as well.
He thought she looked cute like that and immediately slapped himself internally for having such thoughts. Y/N was not cute, she was the pain in his ass that would show up every other day at the shop to lecture him. She was simply annoying and way smarter than him though she was not one to rub it in everybody’s face – he was pretty sure she had been that person to cry after a test as she supposedly failed, but still got an ‘A’.
They stayed in silence a couple more minutes, Y/N still trying to figure out what was missing in the potion recipe, Fred watching her every move, before the doorbell rang again. A new customer had come in, breaking the spell.
“I have to go,” Y/N stated, after checking the time. She gave the parchment back to Fred and watched as he abandoned him on top of his messy desks – it was so messy she wasn’t sure he would be able to find it again. “Just put some kinds of warning for the other thing.”
“External use only, got it.”
She rolled her eyes, but still smiled softly before bidding goodbye and leaving him alone in the back shop.
A few weeks later, on one of the last days of January, Fred had just finished the grant post-holidays inventory when he found the parchment again. With the rush of the end of the year, he had totally forgotten about it.
Diagon Alley was covered in snow at that time of the year and the weather was so bad that no soul would have dared to put even a toe outside in the cold. He knew he wouldn’t have any customers today, so he decided to put his time to a better use and test out this new product.
He gathered all of the ingredients from the reserve and got to work. Everything went well until it was down to the last ingredient: Octopus Powder. Taking the bag and measuring the exact amount he needed, he suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Y/N and how she insisted this amount of Octopus Powder would be too dangerous. He had heard her concern, yet he was still sure it was going to be fine.
Just before adding it to the mix, he finally had second thoughts; just in case, it wouldn't hurt to have a patronus ready. So, he reached out for his wand and materialized a patronus, requesting for it to find Y/N if anything was to happen to him. With his patronus magpie on his shoulder, he didn’t even think twice this time and poured the entire amount of powder in his cauldron. The mixture started boiling quite aggressively and Fred braced himself for it to explode, but nothing happened.
When the boiling stopped, his only thought was that he just couldn’t wait to tell Y/N how wrong she had been– though he wouldn’t admit it to her, but he still had sighed out of relief everything went fine. He turned to his patronus, ready to dismiss it as everything was fine.
He had barely taken his eyes off the potion that it suddenly exploded; his body was thrown into the air as if he was a paper doll.
“Can you tell me your name?”, Y/N asked as she made Fred follow the light coming out of her wand. He had been awake from the coma following his accident for a good thirty minutes now.
“Fredrick Gideon Weasley.”
Y/N nodded, watching him as she made another back-and-forth movement with her hand. Pupillary response to light, checked. Pupillary response to the dark, checked. Equal pupils’ size, checked. She was mentally ticking every part of the post-concussion protocol she knew by heart; everything so far seemed to be normal.
Yet, she could still feel her heart beating furiously in her chest. She had experienced utter panic when his patronus found her, something she had never felt before – even during the darkest time of the war. She had been one of the first to apparate within the shop and found him in what was left of their workshop. She had heard his troubled breathing under the bits of stones, wood and plasterboard, and for one split second, she had thought she would never hear him tease her ever again. She still could feel how his mother, Molly, grabbed at her once she got to Saint Mungo's Hospital, as if she was a lifebuoy. How would she have liked to let her know everything would be alright at that time, but she herself couldn’t even trust her words.
It had been a long couple of days before Fred finally woke up. She had stayed with him during all of her breaks. She had made sure his family was alright and that they had all the food they needed without leaving his side. All while she, on the other side, ate very little – her stomach was in knots from the worry. Even if she tried, Y/N couldn’t shake the memories out of her head. The image of a very blank unconscious Fred covered in blood was there, printed on the back of her eyelids, every single time she closed her eyes, so she didn’t sleep either.
That night, his family had finally left his side after a lot of convincing from Y/N that everybody would feel better after a good night of sleeps in their own bed. As she was just coming in to check his vitals yet again, she had found him there, eyes wild open. She knew she shouldn’t be treating one of her acquaintances, but she was one of the few healers on call that night and she only couldn’t care less anyway. He was alive. That was all that matters.
Putting away her wand, she thought of what was next on the protocol and continued: “When were you born?”
“First of April, nineteen-seventy-eight.”
“What were-”
“I know the deal,” Fred sighed, he had already been there after all. He knew she was just going to ask him stupid questions to make sure he had no memory lost; he could at least save them the trouble. “I’ve got four brothers, a twin brother, a sister. I left Hogwarts before even graduating to open a joke shop with my brother. ‘Been doing that twenty-four seven ‘til now. I’ve mixed Octopus Powder and Erumpent horn, hence I ended up here.”
Y/N eyed him, a stern look on her face as she realised what caused his accident. After they had found Fred, they tried understanding what happened. If they had gathered that he was preparing a potion, they weren’t sure what really had caused an explosion. Never had she thought about their earlier conversation a couple of months ago.
“And you can go ahead and tell me I told you so.”
She kept silent, not knowing what to say. She was angry with him still doing what she had explicitly warned him about – mixing this quantity of those two ingredients. She – and probably everyone he knew – had had the scare of their life. But lecturing him now wouldn’t change the outcome. The good thing was that he had been clever enough to send a patronus, so he had been found in time. It could have been way – way – worse.
Not trusting her words, she made him tilt his head so she could have a proper look at the bandage wrapped around his head. His wound had not bled since the last time the dressing was changed, which was also good thing. He had woken up and was talking. He didn’t have any memory loss and was responsive to all neurological exams. He was going to be alright, she tried to reassure herself. Everything was going to be alright.
“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” she spoke softly as she helped him to settle back comfortably in the bed and tucking him in under the covers. He grimaced when one of her hands brushed his side, but immediately gave her a reassuring smile when he saw the way her body stiffen. If he was not in any pain, he was definitively uncomfortable. His condition was much worse than he thought it was.
“How bad is it?”
“You hit your head pretty badly, broke a couple of bones and were unconscious for a more than two days now.” She explained quickly. “Considering your history, they want to keep you a couple of days to monitor any brain injuries.”
“Just great,” he sank into his pillows. When he had thought he had seen the hospital enough for his entire lifetime, here he was again. It had taken him months to learn again to do anything by himself and he did fell as if he wasted a lot of his life in the hospital getting treatment. His whole family dynamic had shifted around him and though he liked them all very much, he had just become fed up with them all eventually. And now, it was like going back to square one and starting all over. He couldn’t let that happen.
Y/N eyed him sternly, clearly judging his attitude. Whatever lucky star he was born under, he should rather be thanking it. Not everybody would survive two major head injuries. Not everyone had a family willing to keep watch over him for two days straight…
Checking the time, Y/N realized it was already time to get back to work. She was much more relieved to go and leave him knowing he was awake, talking and had a good chance of being out of the woods. She tucked him in the bed a little more tightly, making sure he couldn’t escape the sheets before starting to leave.
“You scared the hell out of your mom,” she stated, eyeing him and his grumpy expression. “I’m going to send her an owl. You better get some sleep; they’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“Y/N?” Fred called after her. She stopped at the door, hand on the handle, only turning her head to him. “Thank you.”
“Did my mom make you check on me?” Fred asked Y/N, who was currently checking out the shelves of their love potions. He was glad she finally decided to be an actual customer for once, but she should have chosen any other section; this one was only ever visited by fourteen-years-old teenagers.
“What? No!” She nearly shouted, face growing hot. Fred eyed her with a knowing look and a smirk, she was definitively a bad liar. “Maybe a little. But in my defence, she is a very persuasive woman.”
Fred laughed softly; that he would know. The last time he saw her – and it was less than forty-hours ago, she had made him eat two servings of her pasta gratin as, according to her own words, he was skinnier than ever. Fred was pretty sure his weight was stable, but he still happily obliged. He knew when to choose his battle now and this wasn’t one.
“You don’t have to, you know,” he spoke as he leant against the shelf, crossing his arms, as Y/N continued to pretend she was interested in those shiny purple vials. “Promise I’ll listen now when you say not to mix up stuff.”
“I bet you would,” she snorted lightly. She had seen him in the hospital in the next days after he was out of the coma, and she had seen him those last few weeks when he was obliged to rest. It hadn’t been easy, and Y/N would lie if she didn’t say she had found him so miserable every time she had visited. She knew he had learned his lesson this time. “I don’t mind anyway. Unless… you know? You do mind…”
“No!” He cried out and cleared his throat after he realized how loud – and a bit desperate – he had been. “No, I don’t mind,” he repeated again, his voice much softer this time.
“Cool, cool,” Y/N answered, not daring to meet his eyes.
“It would be hm… That would make…”
Y/N frowned as she took her eyes off the WonderWitch products shelves she was still investigating while Fred had gone to help a customer - whatever moment they just had was long gone.
She observed Fred struggled to perform a simple addition for the customer that was buying two packs of fireworks. He was stuttering and couldn’t put together a full sentence; it was clear something was wrong. And with his history, it could be very bad.
She decided to step in to help him. Fred let her push him ever so slightly on his left so she could take his place behind the counter and handle the customer as if nothing was happening.
“That would make 10 galleons, Sir,” She accepted his coins and put them in the cash register with a swift movement of her wrist just like she had seen Fred do a hundred times before. “And for the pretty lady, we’ve always got lollipops under the counter. No funny business, they are cherry flavoured. What do you say?”
The little girl gave a look at her father before accepting the lollipops Y/N was handing her. She thanked her in the cutest way and Y/N would have liked to interact with her more if she wasn’t pressed by time.
“Thank you for shopping with us, have a lovely afternoon,” she smiled at them. She watched them turn to leave and immediately reached out to Fred to lead him into the back shop. “Alright, sit down.”
She helped him sit down on his office chair before having a full look at him. His eyes were groggy, and he was as white as a sheet - at least even more so than he usually was.
“How is the head?” Y/N inquired; her infamous frown had made its way back on her forehead.
“It hurts,” he mumbled; he seemed to be ashamed of it – as if he could do anything about it.
Y/N’s mind was running through all the medical explanations.
This could be the symptom of a brain swelling, but the trauma was weeks ago so it wasn’t most likely, and they would have caught up on it already.
It could be the beginning of a stroke, a part of his brain that stopped working for no reason. His mouth didn’t warp, and he seemed to be able to move his body correctly. He was still able to speak as well and had no facial paralysis. So, she crossed that option out.
He could also just be tired, which would make sense since he was already fully back to work only weeks after he had been cleared and despites his healers order to keep it low. Magic or not, bodies still needed time to heal. “I think it’s time for a little break, yes?”
Y/N went to fetch Lee to cover for Fred. She then managed to get the redhead up the tiny stairs and to the flat he shared with his twin brother just above the shop. He crashed on his couch, eyes sleepy, and Y/N went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and something to eat. The fridge was empty, but she managed to find some biscuits in the cupboard and make them tea.
“I don’t even know why I am surprised there is no food in this fridge,” she told him as she handed him a cup.
“Don’t even need it when everybody is showing up at my door with dinner. They are just passing by, they say. With a plate of lasagna or a pie. You folks need to start lying better than that.”
“They care about you,” Y/N spoke softly as she brought her cup to her lips.
“I would do the same if that was one of them. I know.” He sighed, passing a hand on his face. “Godric, if it was George, I wouldn’t leave him alone one second. I just wish they would leave me alone for once, you know?”
A couple of days later, Y/N found herself back to the small flat above the joke shop. She was meeting Fred and George before going to The Burrow. The whole family was gathering to celebrate the twins’ birthday and Molly had insisted for Y/N to come as well. Fred was still banned from apparating on his own and they never were too much of two to do it with him.
George and she each positioned themselves on one side of Fred. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her tote bag with their gifts well secured on her other shoulder. Fred hesitantly wrapped his own arm around her shoulders, sending her a troubled look as if he was a teenager boy seeing a girl for the first time. That was probably the closest they had ever been and even if it was nothing, it still made Fred’s heart race in his chest. Y/N interpreted this as his nervousness of apparating and gave him a warm smile before focusing to do it at George’s order.
At The Burrow she met familiar faces, all wearing a much less worry than the last time she had seen them when Fred was still in a coma at the hospital. As soon as she stepped in the house, she was caught in a whirlwind of embraces, most of them muttering in her ears small thank-you’s for looking after their brother as they hugged. Fred got the same treatment even though, from the look on his face, he was less than thrilled. It was all overwhelming so many people, in such a small place, all ever so happy to be here altogether – and especially happy for him to be with them.
After his mother released him from a good five-minutes hug, Y/N gave him a thumbs-up for support to which he rolled his eyes to answer. Thankfully, his niece and nephew were soon to beg him and George to play with them and the whole family focus turned to the children.
“Godric, would you leave me live in peace for once? I am not made of glass; I won’t break. I’m not dead. I am not dying. I am fine.”
Lunch had gone well until after the main course. Molly had gone to the kitchen to get the birthday cake she made, and Fred had insisted he’d go to help her – after all this was his birthday celebration and as always, she had done a tremendous work all by herself. One of his siblings had brought up that he should rather stay and that they would do it for him. It had been only a short sentence that had Fred literally exploded. He was up from his chair, yelling; anger had turned his face as red as a tomato.
Molly stopped on her track, a few meters from the table, cake in her hands, clearly mortified. The silence that followed his cries left everyone uncomfortable. The air was tensed. Y/N, sat at his side, tried reaching out to this arm. She wanted him to realize he had gone too far; he needed to take a step back and ease the tension a bit. But he just pushed her hand away quite harshly, directing his anger to her. “And you! Don’t you have anything better to do than try to fix and save people? I am not dying now, am I? So just find some stray orphan kittens to take care of and leave me the fuck alone.”
Y/N watched Fred storm out of the room. Her cheeks were hot from the embarrassment and her eyes were wide open from what Fred had just yelled at her. She knew it was just too much for him; the war had left its mark and his accident had just made him live it all other again. He didn’t want to be thinking about it every day. He didn’t want everybody to fear he would just disappear. He just wanted to be alive, and happy. And he wanted them to be alive and happy… and not to worry about him.
She knew why he said what he did. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel her heart stang by his words. Behind his anger, there was still a little bit of truth.
Perhaps she was also just too much; she had imposed her presence to him even though they were merely acquaintance. She had acted as if they were great friends, a friend with a medical degree that scrutinized his every little move to make sure he was alright. Perhaps, she had not given him any air to breathe, acting exactly just like every other member of his family though he had specifically voiced he didn’t want that. Perhaps she also had a saviour complex, after enduring so many patients’ loss during the war and being traumatized by it, that she just wanted to fix him because she knew she could.
“I, uh-” Y/N started, gazing around the table, “I think that’s my clue.”
“Y/N, darling…”
“That’s fine, Mrs Weasley. He needed to get this out of his chest, I guess.” She went to grab her coat by the door, as Molly and everybody else tried to stop her from leaving. She was too upset by what had happened to even bother to put her coat on, even if it was still freezing outside, despite it being already April. She was so disturbed she almost went through the door without saying goodbye, but stopped on the doorstep to turn to the table she couldn’t even see from the tears building up in her eyes. “Thank you again for the food. I’ll see you all.”
Two days after that, Y/N found Fred at her door, waiting for her to come home.
After crying all night about what happened at lunch, she had kept herself busy with a 24-hours shift. It was the first time since then she was coming home and she found him, leaned back against the corridor wall in front of her door.
She gave him a dirty look when she reached his level. She was exhausted from her shift - a shift during which everything that could go wrong actually did - and also from the very little sleep she had got in those two days after Fred’s outburst. This was the first time they were seeing each other. She hadn’t reached out to him, willing to give him space as he so needy apparently. One part of her had hoped he’d send an owl to apologize, but she didn’t get anything.
From the apologetic look on his face, he wanted to have this discussion now. Unfortunately for him, she just wasn’t in the mood, so she just ignored him and went to unlock her door. He still stepped closer and called after her.
“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she stated as she wiped her foot on the doormat.
“My heart hurts a little, can you have a look at it?”
Y/N turned to him to scan his face; she didn’t know if he was serious or not. She searched into his eyes to try and find his well-known playful sparkle. When she didn’t find any, she sighed and opened the door, instructing him to get in. Following him in, she let her coat and bags by the door and made him seat on one of her kitchen chairs.
She listened to his heart with the help of her wand, making sure to listen to multiple heartbeat sounds and see if anything was wrong. When she was done, she put her wand away, still refusing to look at him.
“So, what’s your diagnosis?”
Y/N could hear the smile in his voice; of course, there was most likely nothing wrong with him. He wouldn’t have gone to hers if he was truly believing something wasn’t right, he would have gone to the hospital. She sighed, passing a hand on her face from the frustration. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”
“I am sorry.” He grabbed her hand and Y/N finally looked at him. She could tell from his tight smile and the way his eyes desperately searched for hers that he was indeed sorry. “I didn’t mean anything I said back there. You never treated me like I was made of glass or like I would just breakdown any minutes. You went through your own stuff, and this was unfair of me to tell you any of those things.”
Y/N nodded slowly as a way of accepting his apology. Fred smiled, relieved she was no longer mad about him, and she smiled weakly in return.
“Does your heart really hurt?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face. “Would you kiss it better if it did?”
#lea's writing#fred weasley imagines#fred weasley fic#fred weasley fanfics#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley oneshot#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter imagine#harry potter fic#fred weasley x you
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peter
"Preserved from when we were just kids"
"The goddess of timing
Once found us beguiling"
The first part, they were 18 and 22 when they first got together and during the beginning of their relationship and "beguiling" means enchanting/charming - and the World was enchanted by them when they were together (aside from the haters) and then even while they were off and on over the years, he was always the one that she said would come in and out of her life and they'd "never be over", all which still fits with that beguiling line.
"I thought it was just goodbye for now"
"You said you were gonna grow up
Then you were gonna come find me"
This is NOT giving me Matty vibes at all and I'll die on that hill. Again, 18 and 22 fits here more than 24 and 25. Sure, you're still growing at 24/25 don't get me wrong but, Matty was very much not saying "I'm going to grow up and come find you one day" at 25 years old in the height of his addiction and during his "I can't be with someone bigger than me because I want success on my own". This is giving "I was 18 when we got together and I need to figure my shit out but, one day we'll be together when I do". This also fits her saying he was always in and out of her life. She's been waiting for him to grow up and come find her again.
"But life was always easier on you
Than it was on me"
She got way more hate during their relationship than he did, as she mentions in Slut! On top of the fact, he dated/had flings with many women back to back and never got shit for it but, she dates men back to back and gets hated for it. Granted, that could fit just about any male if we're honest but, she specifically wrote Slut! about Harry so.
"When crossing your jet stream
We both did the best we could do
Underneath the same moon
In different galaxies"
This is giving me very much "we were constantly traveling for work and maybe my jet would cross over yours and we'd end up in the same place and try to make it work and then again when we were so far away from each other". It's also interesting that this album has quite a bit of talk about galaxies/aliens/moons and then circus/con men etc. when the last two MVS we got from Harry were "Satellite" and "Daylight" - Satellite which has the imagery of the sky/galaxy and saying he's waiting for her and then we have "Daylight" which is a circus theme MV.
"And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn
As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return
With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned"
Here she's saying she dated other men during their time apart but, she was always still waiting for him to return to her and tell her he's grown up, figured out what he wanted, and that it's her.I also get the vibe she mentions men specifically because she was talking about him still being a "boy", so she dated men waiting for him - Calvin/Tom because they were her age range and they were "masquerading" as her boyfriend.
"And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five
And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired"
This specific line is what has everyone thinking Matty but, they MET when he was 25. He was not laying all these promises out to her then and that's not what this line is saying to me. It's saying that the muse made all these promises to her BEFORE he turned 25 and then they saw each other again when he was 25 - he told her "I made those as a kid, they've expired now that we're older, they were just fantasies".
Harry was 25 when he released Fine Line and when they saw each other at Ed's wedding. My guess is that was the first time they'd seen each other in a while and there was a talk that night and he might've said something along those lines or she took it that way.
All of this to also say the obvious ties of "Peter" and this song bringing the Peter Pan imagery and then "Peter Losing Wendy" reference in "Cardigan" which is obviously about Harry Styles. The fact people want to connect that with Matty now because they think this song is Matty is wild. Matty was not that young when they met, 25 is still a grown ass adult. Technically Harry was 17 when he met Taylor and who knows if they actually dated before he turned 18 or not. But James in Cardigan acts like a 17/18 year old Harry probably would've acted vs a 25 year old man. And even IF Matty and Taylor had a thing back then, it was an incredibly quick fling. Sleeping together and maybe a few dates but, they were definitely never in a relationship. She did not write Cardigan about a short fling.
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hey. hey body. am i a fucking joke to you.
(tmi body talk in tags)
#say more sadie#I am SCREAMING IN FURY RN#so I’m on Nexplanon for birth control and it’s been the best thing in the world#specifically because it’s flat shut off my periods for the last eight years#basically I’ve gone my entire twenties without a single period#until fucking TONIGHT#because APPARENTLY i’ve been so stressed and overwhelmed that even though I’m a year off from a replacement#GUESS WHO STARTED HER PERIOD#I’m mad I’m angry someone just remove my goddamn uterus I don’t want it#I’m gonna write fanfic about fem Kim having miserable periods and Harry being sweet but dumb to cope
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Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.
But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.
Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:
youtube
Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.
But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.
I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.
There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."
I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.
(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)
That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.
I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.
So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.
But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.
So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.
Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?
Even the ones who might disagree with you?
Even if they're on welfare?
Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?
Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷♀️.
#chronic health tag#medical abuse#medical neglect#medical#ableism#to all the good health care workers who follow me and leave supportive comments: I appreciate you so much#but you need to come get your fellow drs#and idk#give 'em a shake or something#Youtube
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Unexpected Visitor
Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader
WC: 788
A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.
"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .
Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.
He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"
You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."
"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.
You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"
"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."
"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.
"y/n?"
You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"
"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."
Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.
"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.
"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"
"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."
"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--
"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.
"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"
"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."
"Oh how is Jack!"
"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."
You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--
"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"
"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."
"W-Well, um--"
"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.
"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.
"I think today is their two year anniversary."
"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"
"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."
"No we clearly do not know Hotch."
Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."
As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."
"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"
"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."
#x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#Spencer reid x y/n angst#Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader#spencer reid x gn!reader#spencer reid x reader angst#spencer reid x male reader#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction
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bambi eyes (1) r. cameron
[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
A/N: My first Rafe fic :)
word count: 4.4k
In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.
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Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin.
As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there.
He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could.
After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house.
There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls.
The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”
Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you.
Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him.
“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.”
The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase.
He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors.
An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different.
“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on. He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”
Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint.
The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.
“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you.
“Mr. Cameron-”
“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.”
As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you.
Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him.
He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted.
You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg.
He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you.
You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself.
His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake.
As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”
“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”
Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”
“And why’s that?”
“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.
“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his.
“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills, although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”
“Your guys run their mouths.”
“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”
Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars.
“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”
Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”
Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.”
You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted.
Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom.
Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice.
You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle.
You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress.
“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”
Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure.
You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”
When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you.
“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting.
Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away.
“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”
You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”
You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”
He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”
You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next.
“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”
You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added.
You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”
Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed.
“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”
Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant.
Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?”
His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”
“This whole room is just for me?”
“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”
You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”
You nodded.
“Tell me.”
“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further.
“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”
You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”
“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”
“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”
“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect, “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”
“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”
“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”
This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”
He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”
Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?”
Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”
“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.
“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress.
“I thought you wanted me …”
“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”
You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”
Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”
“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead.
“You’re welcome, Bambi.”
Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab.
Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics.
That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”
“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”
“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”
“Your father, was he like Master?”
“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”
You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”
“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly.
“You’ll punish me?”
Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”
You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you.
He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him.
Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you.
“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”
Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”
“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”
“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”
Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out.
He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.
“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over.
Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.”
“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff.
He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.”
He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened.
“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.
“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”
Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!
Part 2
#dark fic#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron#outer banks#dark!rafe cameron#black!reader#rafe cameron x black!reader#rafe cameron smut#obx fic#outer banks smut#barry outer banks#rafe smut#rafe fanfiction
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When I was a kid, maybe 14 or so (which is, you know, 20+ years ago), I belonged to a Yahoo! mailing list for an anime called Gundam Wing. It was mostly populated by other teens, of varying ages, as it was started by a teen and her friends. Eventually it migrated, when Yahoo! groups started as forums, and even branched off into non-GW related stuff in a second forum.
One of the things I remember the most clearly is the oldest person in the group. Her name was Steelsong. She was a 40-something Dom with a sub whose name we knew even though we knew nothing else. She ran her own fanfic archive because the web was still handmade HTML and navigated in webrings and I’m pretty sure Google didn’t exist or was only barely, barely launched and not well known. She was kind and patient and we loved her. She treated everyone on the group with the respect given any adult, even though most of the rest of the world was still treating us like we were children. Not teenagers even, but children. She never once condescended to any of us, never made our youth a barrier to her respect, never treated us like we were incapable of being full people or like we were less than her because we were young.
I remember that she hosted our fanfiction, as absolutely terrible as it was (and I still have some of it, I am WELL aware of how cringingly terrible it is, just absolute nonsense garbage), right there alongside of other fic that was soul-achingly beautiful. Not a separate section for her friends or for kids, just right there like we were good enough to feature alongside other authors. I never once received crit from her that I didn’t ask for, only support. Only love. I am still writing today partly because Steel was so kind about our fic, fanfic and original.
I remember that when I started doing clay sculpture, she commissioned a tiny pair of dragons from me, to support me doing artwork. She sent a check my mom cashed for me, and my mom helped me mail it when it was finished. It broke in transit, and Steel assured me that she mended it and that it was still beautiful. It was a small gold dragon curled up with a small silver dragon.
I remember that her patience knew no bounds. I remember that she was there for us, regardless of reason. When we wanted to know silly things like what to do with a single AA battery, she answered. When we had serious questions about sex, she answered. When we had questions about writing, she taught us. When one of our group members, a young gay teen in Australia, ended up in the hospital and then stopped making posts, and we all knew what had happened, she let us talk to her about it because we couldn’t go to our own parents, even though we had just lost a friend.
She was not a replacement to my parents, but she was an extra parent, in some ways. A friend, certainly, but someone that had been through more life than we had and was willing to pass on knowledge if we asked for it. Someone older that we trusted with things that were too uncomfortable to go to our parents or teachers or whatever about, because we already knew she wasn’t going to judge us or something, and that we would get an honest answer.
I don’t know why I’m remembering this so hard tonight, and I’m not sure if there’s a point to sharing this, except that I know she’s gone now. She was ill the last time we spoke, and her site went down a long time ago, and I miss her. She was a huge influence on my life, then and now. She was hope, for me, that life as an adult didn’t have to be boring, it wouldn’t have to mean giving up the things I loved and Becoming Only Responsible With No Fun. Her presence meant I had hope I could still write and play with friends even when I wasn’t ‘a kid’ anymore. And she’s gone, and I miss her, and I wanted to share her from the perspective of youth, and the perspective over twenty years later has provided me.
And I think of her, when people go off about older folks being in fandom with younger folks. I’m an older folks now, or at least middle aged folks because there are certainly folks older than me still, but I wasn’t always. I’ve been here since i was a younger folks, and I know how much Steel’s presence and support meant to me, how much she helped not just me but everyone on that group. And I think of the people saying older folks don’t belong in fandom, and that they shouldn’t interact with younger folks at all, and I just think... I can’t agree. I needed that kind of solid presence in my life back then and even at the age I am now, I need the folks older than me to stay. I want them here.
So I guess, like, if you’re here and you’re 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or whatever, I want you here in fandom with me, still. Your presence here is a comfort. It is hope. It is a reminder that life will continue to be fun, even as I get older, myself. And if you’re younger and you have this sort of elder in your groups, I hope that they are like Steel. I hope they are kind and patient and supportive, and that knowing them gives you hope for your own future. I hope in twenty years you look back and remember them fondly.
#steelsong#personal#stories about ked's life#dash stretcher#fandom#god she would have loved ao3 so much#i wish i could tell her about the good things that have become
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Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident
I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.
For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel.
We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future.
And we saw ourselves in Katara.
Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.
Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes.
Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.
Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?
Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers.
After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better.
And do better he does not.
The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.
Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.
Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.
The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it.
Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.
I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.
I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.
#ATLA#Avatar the Last Airbender#Katara#Anti Bryke#Zutara#but not really#just pro-Katara#Anti Kataang
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i know who you are | 1. the beginning
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.
Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia
WC: 7.6K
A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.
Series Masterlist
Pain.
That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.
Then you smelled it.
The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.
You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.
You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?
Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.
You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.
The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.
Maybe you were dying.
Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.
"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.
"Jesse! Get her water!"
You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.
"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.
"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.
Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.
Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.
"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?
"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.
Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.
"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"
The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.
"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.
"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.
"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."
"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!
"First day of what?"
"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.
"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.
"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.
"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.
"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.
Then you saw the bodies.
Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.
"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.
"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.
"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.
"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."
"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."
"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.
"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.
You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.
So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.
"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.
You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.
"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.
"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?
"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.
"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.
"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"
"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."
"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.
You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.
"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.
"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.
You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.
At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.
This didn't seem right.
"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.
"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.
"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.
"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.
"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.
"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."
"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.
"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.
"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.
"Are we... together?" you asked him.
Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.
"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."
You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.
Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.
Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.
After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.
"Cordy- what?"
"Cordyceps," he repeated.
"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.
"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.
"How much is 'some'?"
"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.
"Ten years?!"
He nodded.
"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"
"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."
Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.
"That's the last day you remember?"
"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.
"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.
Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.
"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.
You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.
Ten years.
Ten whole years, just... gone.
What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?
The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.
You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.
The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.
He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.
His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.
Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.
Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.
"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.
"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.
"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.
Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.
"It's too soon to say-"
"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.
"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.
"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.
"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.
You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.
"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.
His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.
"Don't come near me."
He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?
"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.
"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.
"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.
"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"
"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.
The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.
"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.
You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.
"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"
Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.
"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.
"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.
"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"
Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.
"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.
"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"
"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.
"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.
"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.
"I don't want to go home with him."
Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.
"It's your home, too," he said.
"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"
Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.
"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."
You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.
"How long have I known him?" you asked.
"Five years."
You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.
"And how long have you known him?"
"All my life."
Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.
"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.
"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.
To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.
You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.
His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.
You still weren't sure who he was.
You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.
You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.
Well, second first impression.
Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.
"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.
The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.
"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.
The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.
You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.
"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.
"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.
"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.
"Yeah, I reckon it is."
Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.
"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.
"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.
"Sorry," you whispered.
"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"
You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.
"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.
"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.
"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"
"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.
You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.
"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.
Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.
The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.
Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?
But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.
You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.
"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"
Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.
"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.
"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.
"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.
"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.
"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.
"Ellie?"
He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.
"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.
"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.
"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.
"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.
"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"
"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."
"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.
"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"
"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.
"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.
"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.
"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.
"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.
"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.
"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.
"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."
"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.
"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."
"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.
"You don't live here?" you asked her.
"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.
"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.
"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"
"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.
"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.
It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.
"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.
You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.
"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.
"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.
"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."
You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.
"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"
"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."
You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.
"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.
"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.
Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.
"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.
"I kept a journal?"
"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.
You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.
"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"
Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.
"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."
He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.
"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"
"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.
"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."
"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.
"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"
"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.
"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."
"And there's no cure?"
Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.
"No, there's no cure," he finally said.
You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.
"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.
"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.
"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.
"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."
Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.
"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.
Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.
"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.
"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."
Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.
"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."
"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.
"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.
"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.
"You sound pretty confident," you replied.
"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."
Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.
"Okay."
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#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfic#protective joel#joel miller x you#joel tlou#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#Pedro pascal#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#ikwya fic
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eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.
so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.
he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.
because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.
eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.
(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)
when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”
then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?
he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.
“you’re alive,” she says.
eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”
“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”
he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.
“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.
“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—
“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.
“maybe not.”
“don’t lie.”
“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”
“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”
“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”
“speaking from experience?”
“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”
“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“
“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”
“at the frozen four.”
“yeah, sure, that too.”
“what?”
“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”
“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”
“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.
eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”
“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”
“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.
the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”
“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”
steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“
“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“
“so,” says steve.
“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.
“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”
“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”
“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”
“coach! go time!”
“yeah?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“COACH!”
he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”
“pick me up in twenty?”
“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.
someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”
with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.
“damn,” he says quietly.
“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.
“how long have you been there?” he asks.
she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”
“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”
“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”
a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#rockstar au#hockey au#two great tastes that taste great together tbh#cross posted on twitter#might clean this up later + pop it on ao3
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1. 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓮𝔁
𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Inviting your incredibly nice and incredibly married family friend to your birthday party was not meant to be a way of seduction— or was it?
𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 #2: You clean your neighbor and family friend Anakin’s house, and he comes to your birthday party with a special gift.
𝓒𝔀: bimbo! Reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is twenty, Anakin is in his mid to late thirties)— nsfw . oral (m & f recieving), vaginal fingering, smell kink, daddy kink, sub! Reader, dom! Anakin | | 𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭: angel, baby, little girl, sweetheart, dollface, kid, honey
𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is part 1 of the Insatiable series ! (Click link for series masterlist)
You’ve never really liked Padme.
And honestly, it’s clear that she doesn’t like you that much either. You don’t know why— you’ve always been nothing but fake nice to her.
At least you have a reason to hate her— that reason being her absolute sex symbol of a husband. Or, aka, a man that’s been hanging around your family for as long as you can remember.
Your hate for Padme originally spawned from the fact that she married Anakin. But as the years have went on, your hate for her has reigned even more clearer than before. She lies, steals Anakin’s money, and cheats— a lot. You know about the last part because you’ve seen random men spew in and out of the house when Anakin is working to make money and pay for the things that she wants. And it enrages you— you don’t understand how she could treat someone as perfect, handsome, and kind as Anakin so terribly.
If he was yours, you would never let him go.
—
You decide to invite Anakin’s to your birthday party.
Of course, he’s always went to them— but reminding him wouldn’t hurt, right? So, on a sunny summer day, you decide to walk across the street to his house. A box of cookies in your hand and in your favorite short skirt due to the scorching hot weather, you knock and wait for him. When he answers, he’s in nothing but a t shirt and boxers. The sight of his muscled thighs and his strong arms makes you a little weak in the knees, but you try to shove your sinful thoughts down. It seems that Padme is gone— thank god. If she knew you were here, she’d have your head.
“Hi, Ani!” You greet sweetly. Although run down and exhausted, Anakin still gives you a smile back. You always lighten the man’s mood.
“Hi, sweetheart.” he replies back.
“Nice day, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is,” his eyes had avert down to the clear box in your hands, the lid pink and adorned with hello kitty stickers. “Are those for me?”
“Mhm! ” you say excitedly. “I just made them! I knew you’d want some.”
Of course you did. You always give your neighbors sweet treats— Anakin the most often, because he’s your favorite. And because you know he loves the things you bake.
Anakin’s steps towards you, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Always know when I need something sweet, don’t you, honey?”
He looks at you with true affection, though you can sense something teasing underneath that pleased lilt. You can feel heat creeping up your neck as he grabs the box from you.
“Thank you.” He says, after a moment. “Have a nice day.”
He goes to shut the door. You shuffle nervously, and then loudly, you blurt out, “Wait! You’re coming to my birthday party this weekend, right?”
Anakin’s brows furrow as he opens the door back up, but he seems amused by your question.
“Do you want me to?”
“I-I mean—“ you stutter, rolling forward on the balls of your feet. “Of course I do.”
“Hmm…” he pretends to think for a moment, a small smile grazing his lips. “And what do I get in return? I’d have to take a day off, if it’s on a Friday…”
Shit. It is on a Friday. You bite your lip, doe eyes looking around as you come up with a plan.
“I’ll.. clean your house?”
It’s a dumb suggestion, one that makes Anakin crane his neck to look back at his slightly cluttered home. He tries to act serious as he looks back at you and crosses his arms.
“What, do you think my house is… dirty, or something?”
You flush, immediately shaking your head.
“No! No, Ani, that’s not what I meant. I- I just… I know you work a lot, so I assume that it’d take a lot of strain off of you. God, I’m sorry-“
“I’m fucking with you,” he interrupts. A smirk glazes his lips. “I know what you meant.” His eyes sweep across your body, and you feel a little dizzy. After a moment, he relaxes and his face splits into a grin.
“Of course I’ll come to your birthday party, kid. Y’know I always do.”
“Okay!” You smile sheepishly, but nervously bite your lip as you speak again. “Uhm.. you don’t have to get me anything. Not at all.”
“I’m gonna get you something.” He states bluntly.
“Okay! That’s— that’s fine.” Your eyes avert from his piercing gaze, something that you should be used to after all these years but aren’t. “I’ll still clean your house, though. I can do it right now, if you want!” You pause, trying to think of how to word the next sentence.
“I… I wanna do something nice for you, Ani.”
There it is again. That look in Anakin’s eyes, hungry, as he steps closer to you once again.
“Well…” he murmurs. ““…Aren’t you just a sweet little girl?”
He brings his fingers up to tank top, toying with the thin material.
You’re slick with wetness, and suddenly feel very shy. Your eyes look down at the wooden porch below you as his fingers brush up on your collarbone. You’re too flustered to really speak again.
Anakin, done with his teasing (for now), steps back and gestures towards the inside of his home.
“Go on,” he says. “Cleaner’s in the cabinet below the sink. You know how I like things to be organized.”
—
Getting the yellow sponge handed to you wet and sudsy, you begin to work on his kitchen counters first. It’s not like they’re gross, per say— his house is more cluttered than nasty. As you intensely work on getting the countertop nice and clean, you can feel Anakin’s gaze pierce through your skin. He had decided to sit at the bar of the kitchen a few moments ago, after finishing half of the container of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Now clad in a pair of jeans and a white wifebeater, he lights a cigarette in his hand. Finally finishing up the counters, you decide to work on the dishes.
Anakin moves to the other side of the bar. He always keeps a radio in this spot, and with idle hands he turns the knob to up the volume a bit. You smile when you hear a Brittany Spears song blaring through the speakers. It’s not Anakin’s taste, but he keeps it on anyways. He knows Brittany is one of your favorite artists.
“So,” he starts, beginning to strike up a conversation. “Twenty one, huh?”
You nod, as you pick up the dish sponge in front of the sink.
“Yeah. Legal drinking age— thank god.” You chuckle, remembering all the times that Anakin had brought you alcohol when you wanted some but couldn’t buy it.
“You’re growing up so fast,” he inquires. You hear rustling behind you— he must be moving around the kitchen. “Not a little girl anymore… ‘s really starting to freak me out.”
“I guess so,” you laugh.
“Time flies.”
It’s quiet after that, for a moment. But something creeps up your neck, like Anakin’s eyes are burning through the back of your skull.
You can feel his presence moving closer to you.
Closer… closer.
And with wide eyes, you feel his breath on the back of your neck.
When did he get so close?
Anakin can’t help but stare at your behind as he watches you— your body is absolute stunning, your thighs soft and absolutely kissable. He loves watching the gap in between your legs as you shift from foot to foot. Loves watching and imagining what your pussy must look like. Probably so wet, so tight underneath that skimpy little outfit. His cock aches at the thought.
He’s feeling bold, now. He doesn’t know why — maybe because he saw his wife leave in a random car earlier that morning, or maybe because he saw the explicit pictures on her phone sent to another man the night before that had caused him to get extremely wasted. But either way, his fingertips reach up and graze your hip.
You exhale sharply, his touch setting off fireworks on your skin.
“It’s different now, isn’t it?” You say, and the insinuation in the question is obvious.
Anakin’s fingertips continue to brush your hips, and then slowly— he wraps his arms around you. Hugging you from behind, pressing his face into your neck and his obvious hard on against your ass.
“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. White hot heat licks up your spine at his gruff voice. “…very different.”
You know it’s fucked. You know it’s wrong. You know he’s fifteen years your senior, you know that he’s married, and you know that he’s been a family friend for years.
But something is tempting you to turn around.
Call it instinct, but your body adjusts to come face to face with the older man. He was closer than you thought he would be. His lips are almost grazing yours. Anakin’s got a look on his face that can only be described as holding back. His eyes shine with desperation and lust.
“Can I kiss you?”
It’s a sentence that seems to be more of a beg than a question. You can’t help but nod. And slow, like an awaiting storm, his lips are on yours— and that slowness soon gives way to electric sparks and teeth and tongue. His arms wrap around your waist, covering your body with his much wider one. He tastes like cigarettes and booze.
Your body is shoved against the sink. Anakin’s tongue rubs against the roof of your delicious, wet mouth. He can’t get enough. He kisses you and kisses you until lips feel bruised.
You savor this feeling, of him using your mouth as his own personal meal. And you fucking love it. No amount of guilt in your body can outweigh the neediness you have for him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you part your legs so he can rest his hips against you. His jeans catch on your skirt— the flimsy material lifts up past your thighs. He follows the expanse of your legs and takes sight of your pink lacy underwear. Its cute, Anakin thinks, and his thumbs are about to pull them down and ravage you.
But you’re interrupted. Because as quick as lightening, Anakin’s phone is blaring out it’s loud call ringtone.
Jumping back, you and him are both surprised. He huffs, wiping at his kiss bitten lips as he makes way to pick up his phone.
The caller id reads “Padme”.
And fuck, you want to kill yourself right now. Of course, it has to be her of all people.
You hate her.
Anakin is quick to answer, and you can’t hear anything but a distraught voice on the other line.
“Padme? What is it?” His voice is laced with concern, but he lets out a breath when she yells something else. He sighs, his eyes glancing at your for a quick second as he rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Fuck. Okay, okay! I’ll come get you, just— stay there, alright?”
He hangs up with a groan, and turns to you.
“It’s just— Padme. Being Padme. She crashed the car… again. She’s fine, though.”
Unfortunately. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.
And just like that, the tension between you and Anakin goes back into hiding once again.
—
Friday comes quicker than you expect.
Your father and mother wake you up with your favorite breakfast, and you pick out your birthday outfit. It’s a pink dress with puffy sleeves, and you’ve been wanting to wear it for this occasion for months. Your birthday cake is your favorite flavor and decorated— of course— with hello kitty plastered on the frosting.
Your mother gushes at your dress, deciding to take many, many, many pictures of you. But you don’t complain— you’re grateful of all the decorations that she’s put up for you. They suit your taste.
You would’ve invited your friends but you figured this would be a family only type gathering. You may have a second party reserved just for them later.
It’s not long before your relatives arrives. Five o’clock on the dot, your cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents have all showed up. You open a few presents, have a good time, have some shots for the first time in front of your family. It’s fun.
But he still hasn’t showed up.
Looking at the clock— half past six now— you can’t help but be disappointed and upset. Anikan promised he would be here!
Your gut starts to churn with different anxieties. What if it was because of that moment back in his kitchen? What if he never wants to speak to you again?
But then, there he is. You hear the familiar roar of his black convertible outside— and your heart instantly soars.
He comes in a bit disheveled, as if he had rushed to get here, with a band tee and black jeans on. The way he still dresses like a young and corrupted boy amuses you— and also turns you on just a little bit.
He smiles when he sees you, and of course you smile right back. You’re so thankful he didn’t make Padma tag along with him— that would completely ruin this entire day.
“Hey, kid,” he says, as he pulls you in for a hug. His fingers trail down past your lower back and graze your ass, though know seems to notice.
“Hey, ani.”
“Happy birthday.” He congratulates you.
You thank him, and his eyes linger on yours for a bit too long as he speaks.
“You look nice.”
The butterflies tingle in your tummy again.
“So do you.”
And after that, it’s not long before everyone else recognizes his arrival and your dad is sweeping by and pulling him into one of his conversations.
As the night goes on, more of your family members slowly begin to leave. You prefer it this way; your judgy aunt Hilda was becoming way too much for you to bear right now. You’re sitting on the living room couch with your mom when she asks you to go and get her bag from the kitchen.
And when you go into the room, Anakin is there. And not only that, but he’s alone. He’s leaned up against your refrigerator drinking a beer.
Your eyes lock with his, and he follows the outline of your curves as you pick up your mom’s bag.
“Everyone leaving?”
His voice rings out through the room, piercing the awkward silence. You shrug, becoming intensely concentrated on the granite countertops all of a sudden.
“It’s late.” You reply. And then, in a smaller voice, “You were late.”
He sighs, and you look back to see him running his hands through his dark locks of hair. He looks frustrated.
“I know, honey. Im sorry. I had work, you know that. And… Padma’s been giving me a rough time.”
“When isn’t she?”
It isn’t meant to come off as snarky as it does, but your comment has Anakin huffing out a breath of air.
“Don’t give me attitude, okay? Im here, aren’t I?” He moves beside you, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You don’t say anything— you simply look at him with those eyes. Those pretty, doe like eyes that Anakin can’t bring himself to stop looking into. His eyes trail down to your lips.
“We should talk,” He says. “About..last weekend.”
You really don’t want to. That’s all you can gather right now. You half heartedly take your mom’s bag into your grasp and gesture towards it.
“I have to go give this to my mom,” you mutter. “See you around, Anakin.”
—
The night is over, but Anakin still hasn’t left. You wouldn’t expect him too, though. He stays over late once or twice a week sometimes to chat with your father. You’ve showered, gotten rid of the pesky hairdo that had taken you hours to do and was so frustrating the whole night but still was worth it anyway, and painted your toes a fresh, hot pink. You’re extremely happy to have your nightgown on, now. That dress was very tight.
Your bedroom door is open, but you don’t mind it. You can hear the sound of a football game from downstairs as you read one of your favorite magazines. Too busy wondering which breaking bad character you are through a printed out quiz in the booklet, you don’t even realize Anakin is at your door until he knocks.
It makes you jump, and when you whirl around to see who it is your bones almost jump out of your skin.
“You scared the shit out of me!” You exclaim. You slam the magazine down onto your vanity, and Anakin chuckles.
“Sorry.”
His footsteps approach you, but not before they’re moving so he can close your door shut. You become drastically nervous now that he’s alone with you. He must’ve made up some excuse about having to go to the bathroom so he could sneak up here.
“What are you doing in here, Ani?” You question feebly. He shrugs, taking a seat on your silky pink bed.
“What? Do I have to have an excuse to see the birthday girl?”
You shyly turn back to face your Vanity mirror. You begin to concentrate on brushing your hair. In the reflection you can see that Anakin is watching you.
“We both know that’s not why.” You reply quietly.
“I guess you’re right,” Anakin agrees. “Maybe it’s because I want us to continue where we left off. ”
Face flushing, you baffle yourself by throwing out an unintentionally disgusting line.
“So you wanna do me in my bedroom while my dad is downstairs? Is that it?”
Anakin smirks, amused, leaning back and seeming cocky. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that the answer is yes.
You turn around, watching this older man manspreading on your bed. Against your better judgement you decide to get out of the chair and sit beside him.
He smiles fondly at the closeness. His fist closes around something in his pocket.
“I got you something.” He says. “Your present. Open your hand.”
It’s a scary request, because Anikan has played tricks on you before by telling you this. Sticking a whole snake in your hand one time and making you cry for hours on end after is proof of how much of an asshole he can be sometimes. But he seems to be genuine, and this is your birthday present, so you hold out your hand for him to take.
He pulls out a box. Anyone could recognize it as one that has jewelry inside the packaging. And you were right. Because when you open it, you’re blessed to see a beautiful set of diamond earrings encrusted with your initials.
You gasp, picking them up and admiring them with excitement.
“Thank you so much, Ani!”
Your gushing over the present makes Anakin’s chest swell, and he’s surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug.
It’s been a while since Anakin has been hugged like this. Padme hasn’t touched him in months, or shown him any type of affection. Surprised but pleased, he’s quick to return it, his big arms wrapping around your waist and burying his face in your neck. The smell of your natural scent and strawberry perfume fills his nostrils. He pulls away after a moment. You see the wedding band on his finger, and it brings reality back to you.
“Where’s Padme?” You ask slowly, questionably, but still genuinely curious.
He doesn’t seemed angry by the question, but Anakin’s mouth forms into a thin line.
“Out.” he states. “Probably fucking some random guy she met on tinder.”
“She doesn’t deserve you,” You say, and frown, hand reaching out to touch his bicep. “You’re so nice, and she’s so mean to you. I hate her.”
“Don’t say that. You’re too nice to hate anybody.”
“But it’s true!” You exclaim. “I hate her.” And then, quietly. “She has you and I don’t… ‘S not fair.”
Anakin doesn’t like when you get sad, and he especially doesn’t like when you remind him of that fact.
“I’m not hers, y/n.” He replies, and it’s the truth. His feet move closer to your angry form. “I never have been.”
“Then why are you still with her? Why aren’t you with me?”
“How do you expect me to be with you, y/n? What do you think everyone would say?”
It’s actually a good point, but you dont want to think about that right now.
His arms wrap around your waist, and his face finds the crook of his neck as he breathes you in. You sigh, looking up to the ceiling, your pink curtains, anything but him.
“I want you,” he whispers to you. You try so hard not to look at him. “I want you so bad, angel.”
“You don’t know what you want, Anakin.”
“Fifteen years older than you and I don’t know what I want?” He scoffs, his lips forming into a thin line. “I know what I want.”
His voice takes a much darker turn then, something twinged with arousal and feral possession. “I want to bend you over your vanity and pound my cock into you until I can’t see straight. I want to kiss you, hold you… I’ve wanted it since you were nineteen years old. Cmon, sweets. Why don’t you let me in?”
Let me in. You shiver, and your clothes become unbearably uncomfortable on your body.
“I don’t know, Ani..”
“It’s okay, baby.” He coos, comforting. “Why don’t you let uncle Ani give you the second part of your birthday present, huh? Cmon, let me make you feel good.”
Its once again, truly fucked.
But with the way he’s holding you now, with the words spilling from his lips in that tone.. god, your knees are buckling. You sigh, and mindlessly you begin to run your hands down his body.
“I don’t want you to ever mention Padme to me” you reason with him, as your hands circle his waist. “Ever. Only ever talk about me.”
“I won’t mention her. She’s dead to me.”
You contemplate more deals to make, and then pout. “And I want to be paid for all that cleaning I did last week!”
“Done.”
It’s insane how quickly he agrees to what you want. But alas, he does.
And when his lips press against yours for a second time, you can’t resist falling into him and finally giving in.
To Anakin, you taste like your chapstick— he doesn’t know what flavor it is, but he wants to figure it out soon so he can buy it for himself and always have that familiar sweetness on his mouth. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s desperate, practically consuming you with a neediness he has never felt for anyone else. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip and you feel his tongue enter the warm canal of your mouth. Mewling and pulling yourself away, you press your half naked body against him and begin to trail kisses down his neck.
“Wanna suck you…” you whine. “but—your house— not here..”
Your hands grope his thighs, then one of them moves up and takes hold of his awaiting bulge. He’s big, and you can tell by how fat he feels in your palm already. He lets out a moan, pressing himself further into you and breathing against your cheek, “Yes, here.”
And so be it. You know once Anakin decides something, it’s going to get done. If he wants it, you’ll give it to him. You drop to your knees in an instant, previous request forgotten, pawing at the confines of his jeans and unbuckling his belt. He watches you through hooded eyelids, watches the way your mouth practically drools as you pop the button on his fly and unzip him. His briefs are almost cute. They have little looney toons characters on them. Scoffing and letting out a giggle at the sight of these on a thirty six year old man, who probably knew he was gonna get laid, you look up at him.
“Nice underwear.”
“Shut up,” he groans, gripping your hair with his big hands. “Just suck my cock, baby. C’mon, please?”
Slick forms and leaks down your thighs at his words. Jokes forgotten, you pull the silly material down and his aching cock springs free. Slapping against his stomach, all big and thick with a patch of brown hair at the base, you can see a drop of precum beading on the tip. Your thumb brushes over the spot and smears the creamy liquid around the head of his cock. He exhales sharply, his grip on your hair tightening.
“Shit,” he hisses, eyes shutting closed at the feeling of your hands.
“Ani,” you breathe. Your tongue licks a stripe up his cock, licking up the dribbles of fluid you had just smeared. You lick your lips with need. “You taste so good.”
“Yeah?” He bucks his hips against your face, watching how you greedily slurp his cock into your mouth. “Look at you, baby. Such a needy girl.”
You hum around him, making sure to breathe so the man doesn’t strangle you with his fat cock. The smell of his arousal invades your senses, and your head gets fuzzy. You down him all the way to his base— pressing your nose against the hair there, you almost pass out from how good it all is. He smiles, watching how easily you submit to him. He begins to thrust shallowly into your mouth.
“So fuckin’ good, angel. ” He grunts. “Take it this isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked? Shit— too good at it to not have been dicked down or throat fucked at least twice.”
You moan around him, knowing it’s true. But all the men you’ve hooked up with, they’ve always been older, brunette, with tattoos and an interest in ratty band t shirts— all of them have looked like Anakin. They’ve always looked like Anakin.
Looking down at you, Anakin’s gaze is hypnotized by your glossed lips moving up and down on his cock. His balls slap against your chin at a rapid pace, his cock aching for a warm release. He thinks about what you look like underneath that dress, thinks about how you’re such a fucking bitch for making him give into his raw and primal sensations like this.
“Don’t think you need to call me Anakin anymore, baby,” he inquires, with a growl grazing his plump lips. “Fuck… think you need a daddy, instead. One that’ll actually discipline you—“ he yanks on your head when you try to lift up and get some air, forcing you back down on him. “— and not let you act like a fuckin’ brat. Do you like tempting married men all the time like this, huh? Do you like tempting all of your dad’s friends? Don’t lift your fucking head up, baby, ‘m not done…”
Whining against his cock, your hand moves down against your clit. His degradations are making you desperate to reach your peak— and as fucked up as it is, yes, you do want to call him daddy, want him to take care of you and always keep your throat as his own personal fleshlight for his aching prick. His grip on your hair is causing blinding pain but it doesn’t matter.
As long as you please him.
He finally pulls you off of him, after a moment. Your chin is caked with drool, your eyes watery and tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re gasping, finally gulping in air after being smothered for so long.
“Breathe, honey,” Anakin murmurs, sweet despite his initial angry throat fucking. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Breathe for me.. there you go. Good girl.”
Relaxing against his thighs, you’re unbearably hot.
“Daddy..” you cry against him, wrapping your arms around his thick thigh. He frowns.
“Too much?” He asks, concerned. “Do you wanna stop? Or we could take a break..”
His caring demeanor makes your heart clench, and you can feel the tears actually stream down your cheeks now. No one has ever cared for you like this.
But as overwhelmed as you’re feeling, your pussy aches like no other and if you stop for even a millisecond you think you’ll die. You shake your head.
“No, daddy.“
He looks down at you, brows furrowed, and he nods.
“Okay, pretty. Cmon, stand up.” He gestures for you to get onto your feet, and when you ask why, he leans in close to your ear and gestures to your large vanity.
“I wanna fuck you.” He coos gently. “Wanna bend you over, right there. Can I?”
You nod as you pick yourself up on wobbly legs. You fall into him, allowing him to guide you over to the large table. He bends your pretty body over it, your ass in the air.
Anakin’s fingers play with the hem of your night. He loves it on you, thinks the color is so sweet and hypnotizing, but it has to come off or he thinks he’ll go crazy. He lifts up the fabric, yanking the material off to reveal yourself to him. Your cunt is exposed, all puffy, creamy, and slick. Anakin takes note that you aren’t wearing underwear and that your ass is almost too perfect. His hand comes down to lightly smack one of your cheeks. You whine, backing yourself up against him.
“Like a fuckin’ porn star,” he groans. “Body like a fuckin’ porn star, dollface. It’s perfect. And no panties? Sweetheart, you’re a dream.”
His finger ghosts over your swollen clit, and your hips buck against him desperately.
“Thank you, daddy. Wanted to be ready for you. Knew I wouldn’t be able to stay way if you started touching me..”
He smiles, his fingers spreading your slick across your button and down to your slit. He slips a finger inside, and you gasp a little bit. He rubs against your walls with his long digits, and he hits a certain spot that has your thighs crushing his hand. A smile forms on his face.
“Already?” He chuckles as he watches your desperation, rubbing against that spongy spot inside you. Your legs quiver. “Have you ever even been fingered before?”
“N-N-“ you pause, as he slips in another finger beside his first one. He begins to thrust rapidly, a burn forming in your core but nonetheless it feels fucking amazing. “No, no guy’s ever wanted to.”
“How the fuck could they not want to?” Anakin scoffs, baffled. Your wetness coats his fingers in creamy strings as he pulls them in and out of you. “Jesus, you’ve really been needing me. Huh, baby?”
“Always need you,” you whine. You’re close already; it’s insane how much Anakin’s touch affects you. Your wetness makes a loud gushing sound as he continuously finger fucks you. After a moment there’s rustling behind you, and Anakin’s fingers leave you. You whimper, but it’s not long before you’re moaning again when Anakin drops to his knees.
You’ve always dreamed of his tongue; watched how it looked poking his bottom lip, when he rubbed the inside of his cheek and made a noticeable bulge. And now, spreading your pussy lips with his strong hands, Anakin doesn’t hesitate to dive into your drenched cunt.
You gasp, his tongue beginning to draw harsh circles on your clit and then go back down to your tight hole. He pushes the muscle in as far as it can go, feeling against your walls. He practically whines as he does it— never in his life, not even with the woman he had decided to marry ten years ago, has he ever tasted a pussy this good. His cock is still out and rubbing against your calf, all wet and red and hard.
And after he makes you cum, he intends to split you in half with it.
He begins gliding his tongue over your clit again, and shoves his fingers back inside of you. Working you over and over, you can feel that you’re about to reach your peak. You can’t even say anything— his tongue is too perfect, too wet and warm against your aching bundle of nerves. The only thing that can leave your lips is his name as you cream all over his handsome face. You ride your high out with your hand behind you, burying itself in his black hair.
Breathing heavily, Anakin moves back up to grab your neck and turn your face towards his. He kisses you, passionate and with something else you can’t quite place. He grinds his cock against your lower back.
“Gonna fuck you now,” he grunts, as he lifts one of your legs up onto the vanity’s surface. It gives him easier access, and he bumps his tip up against your entrance. “You okay with that?”
You nod instantly.
At your confirmation, Anakin breaches your hole and pushes in slow.
It hurts at first. You’ve taken cock but never any as big as his. He holds your leg with one hand and your hip with the other. You can feel every ridge, every vein as he breaks you apart on him. Your head is down and the vanity digs into your skin, but it doesn’t matter because the way that Anakin holds you makes you feel safe, protected. As if your entire family isn’t downstairs, as if he isn’t taking you like a cheap whore in your childhood bedroom, while his wife is taking a ride in the car that he bought for her.
But you don’t think about that. You just close your eyes, bite your lip, and gratefully accept the birthday present beginning to pound your guts.
#Anakin Skywalker#Anakin Skywalker x reader#Anakin Skywalker x fem! reader#Anakin Skywalker x bimbo! reader#Modern! Anakin Skywalker#Dbf! Anakin Skywalker#Neighbor! Anakin Skywalker#Anakin Skywalker smut#Star Wars#Hayden Christenen#anakin skywalker fanfic
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HOW ARE BABIES MADE?
[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.
[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.
RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”
meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”
SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.
TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”
KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.
if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.
IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers imagines#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers scenarios#tokyo revengers x you#ran haitani x reader#haitani ran x reader#rindou haitani x reader#haitani rindou x reader#akashi takeomi x reader#takeomi akashi x reader#sanzu x reader#haruchiyo sanzu x reader#kakucho hitto x reader#kakucho x reader#mikey x reader#sano manjiro x reader#izana kurokawa x reader#kurokawa izana x reader#manjiro sano x reader#ran haitani scenarios#haitani ran scenarios#rindou haitani headcanons#ran haitani headcanons#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#sanzu haruchiyo fluff#izana headcanons#izana x reader fluff#izana fluff
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losing ur interest | op81 smau
PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem best friend!reader
WARNING(S): kinda angsty
SUMMARY: oscar spent the better half of his teens and early twenties pining after his best friend, y/n, with no luck. however, by the time y/n finally sees him in a romantic light, his love is long gone.
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yourusername
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yourusername did i jump in the water fully clothed for my bestie only to get one nice shot?? yes yes i did that and u would do it too for a free dinner! 😌
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username she was an employee! and she was gonna get employee of the month period y/n !!!
yourusername yessir🫡
username 🤣🤣
username so... where is this picture you speak of🧍♀️
oscarpiastri 40 cad of food for 1 pic...😐
yourusername not my fault u're so unphotogenic x
username oscar bby the public would like to see it pls 🤲🧎♀️
username prettyyyy
landonorris the camera guy always gets the short end of the stick smh guess who paid for my food🤨
yourusername uhm... so anyway the weather was soo nice😋
landonorris woow
oscarpiastri posted to his story!
[ caption: This picture alone is NOT worth a fully paid meal! 2/10 ]
[ tagged: yourusername ]
oscarpiastri
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tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri Two best friends in a room, they might...
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username KISS OMG THEY MIGHT FUCKING KISS YESS PLS😭
oscarpiastri 👀👀👀
yourusername ahahahahahaha😂
username ouch...my heart hurts for osc🥹💔
username alright y/n it ain't that funny😐
username AHHJKSH they're so cute omfg
username slowly realising best friends to lovers ain't ever gonna happen with these two😩
landonorris finally give photo credits???🤨
username oop
yourusername never 😙❤️
username the way y/n didn't even like the post omg crying and fucking throwing up
username 😭😭
username sigh... nobody talk to me rn 😞
f1gossipofficial
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f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N, Oscar Piastri's long-time childhood best friend, was spotted entering the paddock today! Despite being a fan favourite, she hasn't attended many races and tends to keep to herself.
Nevertheless, fans are thrilled to see Y/N supporting Piastri at this year's Australian Grand Prix!
Best of luck to all drivers today!
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username y/n on insta: 🤪😆🗣️ y/n at a gp: 🤐😊🙈
username LMAOO ...why is this me tho🥲
username she's so real for that lololol
username ntm on my girl now, she's just shy🤣🫶
username it's so clear oscar's in love with her omg
username she's not tho☹️
username imagine if oscar wins today👀👀
username she looks so prettyyyyy <3
username ew she's just there for the money and fame🤢
username "long-term childhood best friend" what's not clicking??? yall just be saying anything smh
yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: alright boys, time to get on ur zoom 🏎️ ]
[ tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris ]
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oscarpiastri posted to his story!
[ caption 1: When your best friend buys you pizza to make you feel better after a crash 😊 ] [ caption 2: Nevermind she dropped it 🤦♂️ Actually feeling worse now! ]
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A few months later...
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[ caption: the best type of mattress 😌 ]
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ynfanpage
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ynfanpage guys have you noticed how giddy and touchy y/n's become around oscar ever since his crash at the aus gp??? these are some pics she's posted since then👀👀👀
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username OMG YES IVE BEEN DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT
username what do you wanna bet she realised she was in love with osc that day??🥺
username IMAGINE. that would actually make so much sense!!! best friend to lovers at last omfg 😍🫶
username my nonna always said "sometimes u have to almost lose someone to realise how much they really mean to u"🥹
username Y/N IS IN THE FUCKING LIKES WTF‼️
username probably by accident🥲
username BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT AN ACCIDENT??? maybe we'll get a hard launch soon omgg
username they're sooo dating lol
oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri Made some new friends at the beach today :)
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username the vibes in these are immaculate🤩
yourusername same time, same place? :)❤️
landonorris where was my invite???
oscarpiastri Non-existent 😊
username lmaoo why are they like this🤣🤣
username is that y/n and osc in the third pic??🧐
username idk but lmk when u figure it out babes
lilyzneimer super fun! nice meeting you guys 💛
oscarpiastri You too 😆
username idk oscar responding to everybody but y/n's comment rubs me the wrong way...🤨
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[ caption: 🍝💛💛 ]
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yourusername beach x (ty lovely waiter for taking my pic for me)
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lilymhe prettiest! 💕
yourusername youuu <33
username where's oscarrrr
username she's so fake😒 how is she super shy at the gp and then so outgoing here smh??
username lmao maybe bc this is her own insta?? like duh she feels comfortable on her own page wtf
landonorris alone?🤨 where's your shadow
yourusername u're so...😭
username LMAOO referring to oscar as her shadow is crazy??💀💀
username i'm cryin🤣🤣
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[ caption: 😊❤️ ]
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yourusername posted to her story!
[ caption: girls night in? yes, yes pls :) ]
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0:02 ㅇ──────────── 3:17
no part 2!
#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#op81#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#f1 imagine#op81 x you#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri fanfic#smau#oscar piastri angst#oscar piastri imagine#f1 instagram au#fanfic#f1 fic#oscar x reader#op81 fic#f1 scenario#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#oscar piastri one shot#formula 1 x you#oscar piastri x you#f1 fiction
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DC X DP fic idea: Congratulations! It's Triplets!
Jason Todd can't remember half the crazy shit he did when he returned from the dead. There were a few years when his memory gaps were so significant lost he honestly forgot what year it was.
So he's not surprised he did some dumb shit where he was less weapon and more power-hungry teen.
He doesn't remember Jazz Fenton that well, but he does remember waking up next to her, making her breakfast as a thank-you for the fun night, and slipping away before she could ask too many questions. Logically he knows that leaving before she woke up was a bit of a asshole move but he hadn't cared back then.
He had thought he would never see her again.
Imagine his surprise when she enters a youth space program WE is running five years later. By this point, he had calmed most of his pit rage and had reconnected with his family. Bruce had even legally made him alive again so he's there as Brucie's second oldest.
Tim had practically shoved him as one of the heads of the program since Jason had rapidly developed the image of being the most Charity drive Wayne.
The point was to help city kids go on clear sky trips and co-work with NASA to help children who love the stars get closer to them.
Jason knew that Jazz, a woman of twenty-three, would have no reason to be present since the program was for kids ages four to twelve.
But the three dark hair blue, eye triplets that were dragging her around the booths indeed did.
By the looks of the triplets, they were five to six-year Olds.
Jason also noticed another thing about them. They were exact copies of himself and five years ago was the last time he saw Jazz before slipping away.
It wasn't possible right?
Trying not to bring attention to himself, he followed them through the event, noting every little gesture the children made. With each passing second he saw more and more of himself in them. Once the lights were dimmed for the crew to project an exploding star on the walls and ceiling, he could creep close enough and steals three hair samples.
Later he would test the DNA against his own and find himself staring at the results with slight horror.
He's a father to triplets and left their mother alone to raise them on her own. Jason needed to fix this as soon as he could.
(Danny, Dani and Dan get de-age after a misguided attempt to take the throne from Danny by a ghost whose extraordinary power was to revert people into a weaker stage and attack them. Luckily even as small children, they were able to defeat her. Unfortunately, they would have to regrow the human way to return to their ages.
Clockwork offers them a different dimension for them to age in, explaining it run crazy slow compared to thier own. One year in the other world would be a week back home.
They talk to Jazz who agrees to take emergency leave from work after faking a terrible accident with her brother, and she hopes over to Earth-slightly-to-the-left to find a house suitable for re-raising her siblings. There she realizes this is her chance to enjoy her youth too.
She has her first one-night stand.
She doesn't tell them when they hope over, and all of them go about life as simply as they can in a city as dangerous as Gotham.
They find out later that there is even a slight version of their family here though it's primarily due to someone on their dads' side of the family messing up the family tree by marrying someone different than their great-grandfather
Instead of Fentons, the versions of their family name is, Evans. Crazy.
Even more Crazy is that they return home after a week-long camping trip through a NASA-based program to find Bruce Wayne at their doorstep, a team of lawyers behind him, and Jason Todd holding flowers next to him.
He thinks he's the father of the three because that's what the DNA pulls since it's a version of them and when Jazz is so worried about collapsing the timeline and getting on Clockworks bad side she plays along.
She later finds out from a very calm Danny that Jason is not related to them. It's just that their comeback from the dead rearranged all three of their DNAs, so Jason was merely matching there. Jazz testing herself against Jason proves this to be true.
Dan and Dani? They just wanted a rich dad who showered them with gifts in an attempt to make up for missing six years of their lives.
Danny just wants Jazz to admit she's in love with Jason.
Abd Jazz? Well, she just wants to be a good guardian for them and hopes she can pretend to be Jason's baby mamma until they can hope back home.)
#dc x dp crossover#Jazz/Jason#misunderstandings#de-ages#Jazz freaks for a sec that she pulled a luke Skywalker#buts shes good#Jason is excited to be a dad
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