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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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virgin patrol

2.9k / dark!Joel Miller x f!reader /master

he could be doing anything with his left hand here 🥵

CW/Notes: he's a creep!, dubious consent, virginity loss, unsafe P in v, violence (NOT joel vs. reader). I8 + mdni. same reader from Patrol. loosely edited.

You pull your arms into your jacket. It’s colder than the first time you patrolled with Joel.

"Damn it's freezing," Joel says. "Ya know, we really helped each other last time up in the shack." He tugs on the flaps of his trapper hat. "Felt good too, didn’t it?”

Against all odds, you were hoping somehow this wouldn’t come up. It sounds like the sick charade is fading, at least. No point in pretending it was just to stay warm. You don’t acknowledge him.

“I know you’re cold, darlin’. Why don't we go on up and take a break now?"

You remain silent.

"We can help each other. . . Got somethin' you're gonna like up there, too." You can only imagine what.

Your face is so numb you can barely get the words out. "I think . . I'm okay. I'm. . . not that cold."

"Suit yourself," Joel says and starts heading toward the shack alone, cruelly taking one of the blankets with him.

"You're gonna leave me here alone?"

"Sure. You've had training. You'll be alright. Come get me in an hour. We’ll switch off." He starts walking away, then calls back, "Or you’re welcome to join!"

Last time, he got you naked under the pretense of huddling for warmth, gave you an orgasm with his hand, then convinced you to keep his most precious appendage warm with your mouth. You managed to get your assignments shifted away from his zone until now. You don't want to be alone with him in the shack, but you really don't want to be alone on this windy hill with a rifle you can barely fire. You're not sure you can fire it at all with your hands this cold.

"Wait," you say. "I'm coming."

He stops in his tracks and he turns enough that you can see half his face, enough to see his self-satisfied smile. "You sure? You really wanna help each other." His words make your stomach turn, but against all logic, you're also tingling between the legs and not from the cold. Physically, he made you feel really good that one time, and your body seems to remember. But it felt so. . .dirty. So dirty and strange the way he went about it. He’s a creep.

Your heart sinks. "I, um. . ."

You're fighting with yourself, thinking it over when both of you hear something down the hill. It's three men headed your way and they look like trouble.

"Shhh," Joel says, and you're relieved that he doesn't keep walking up to the shack. He's more than capable of taking care of these guys himself. Your heart swells with appreciation for him. Maybe you’ve been too hard on him in your mind.

"You remember how to aim and shoot, right?" He whispers to you, no sign of getting his own rifle ready. Your heart drops.

"You're not gonna shoot them??"

"Well I'd love to, darlin', but it can't just be me doin' everything or you'll never finish learnin’. Be right up there if ya need help." The men are getting closer. One of them notices the two of you and starts to load his gun.

"Joel, help, please!"

He looks at you, intrigued by your plea. "We've gotta help each other though, right?"

"Please, I'll do anything. Anything"

"Anything…" he takes his rifle off his back and sighs.

The men are climbing up the ridge. Joel points and shoots one of them in the forehead with an instant kill shot. But he doesn't continue shooting. One of the men fires at the two of you and misses.

"Anything?" He says. "Cause I wouldn't want these men to take you."

You can't even remember how to shoot. Even if you could, you're too numb and distracted to take a good shot.

"Yes, anything." It feels like a tiny price to pay in exchange for your life.

Joel aims and takes out a second man in one shot without flinching. Then he pauses again.

"You're gonna take it like a good girl for me, aren't ya?" The lack of pretext startles you.

"Y-y-yes." Your heart might beat out of your chest.

"You don't sound too happy 'bout it." The last man fires and it's a near miss.

"Yes, yes!"

Joel aims at the last man, and the man falls to his knees begging for his life. Joel shoots him in the head without even blinking much less saying a word. And just like that, all three of them are dead. It was a piece of cake for him. He gathers their weapons. Joel carries their guns over his shoulder and hands you their knives.

"Let's go then," he says flatly.

"Aren't you worried there are more of them?"

Joel's eyes narrow, scanning the horizon then he adjusts himself in his pants. "We'll just have to keep an ear out."

He can't get you into that shack soon enough.

Joel is already unbuckling his belt as he leads you into the shack. You try not to look at him. Your body is buzzing with its own heat from the near-death experience. But even without the adrenaline, you have to admit the shack would be far more tolerable than the ridge. There's no wind.

"Hey," he turns around and stops you, standing there with his belt undone. He cups your cheek. "You're alive, darlin'." Yeah, you have that going for you. He smiles with a twinkle in his eye.

He puts down the guns and walks to the forlorn couch, his belt jingling ominously with each thud of his boot.

“See what I got for us?”

He holds up the corner of a bigger, thicker blanket. Your eyes widen. It looks like such a luxury compared to the one you've been huddled under.

“Thought you’d like it.” He’s pleased with himself, but he’s a jerk for keeping it up here.

He takes off his trapper hat and smoothes his hair. Then he starts undressing and you look away.

"Go on now, take off your pants. Then under the blanket. We’re gonna get real warm...”

True to your word, you’ll do what he wants. You begin removing layers and watch his face change as he sees you in just your underwear, and his voice lowers, too.

“Sure are pretty, aren't ya,” he says.

You get on the couch and climb under the blanket.

“Come on now, don't be shy. Take’em off.”

You take off your bra and panties.

“Good girl. How ‘bout a drink?” He hands you a bottle of whiskey and looms over you shirtless. You study his scars. There are two longer slashes on his right side, one across the outside of his pec down his ribs and one closer to his pants. He drops his jeans to the ground and steps out of his long underwear. He stands before you naked, already aroused. His arms flex as he tenses them near his crotch then rubs his hands together in an exaggerated display of how cold he is. He looks at you like a hot cup of coffee.

You scoot over to the back edge of the couch, practically falling into the seam, and Joel slides under the blanket. Then he coaxes you halfway on top of him. His hard cock presses into your hip and sends a pang of desire between your legs. When you settle onto his warm chest, your whole body gets a rush of heat. You both have on socks.

He mercifully allows a few minutes for the two of you to just lie there. In that time, he’s getting harder and harder, and you're getting wet. Then he adjusts your body, bringing you further on top of him for full contact and his hips begin to move, grinding his arousal into one side of your lower abdomen.

He looks down and lifts your chin with his finger, then quietly announces, "I'm gonna put myself inside ya, darlin'. And I think you're gonna like it."

"But, I - I don't think I can."

"Oh you can, you can." He slides his hand over your ass and down to your pussy and feels your wetness. "Mmmm. You can, baby."

"It's too big," you protest. You felt like it barely fit in your mouth.

"Let's get you ready then," he replies. He bends the knee you're not on top of to make room for his hand between your bodies. Then he slides his middle finger into you and his cock swells even harder. "Mmm."

He adds a second finger as he grinds himself against you. His fingers already make you feel full, but they're nothing compared to his thick cock.

"I need ya, darlin," He pants, then adds a third finger. "Need your help real bad. . ."

The third finger is at a rough angle and you feel his nail. "Ouch!"

"You're okay. You're okay." He curls his thick digits and reaches as far into you as he can with them, then mercifully removes the third.

"Ah, fuck," he breathes as he ruts against you. The horny sound of his voice makes your clit throb, even as your pussy recovers from his third finger. "I think you're ready for me, darlin'. . ." He removes his other two fingers and eases you onto the couch as he gets out from under you. The blanket goes with him, leaving you cold and exposed. He sucks his fingers clean then wraps his hand around his cock. "Nice n' wet for me, hmm?"

He takes hold of your hips and coaxes you onto your back. "There ya go. Won't be cold for long." Then his free hand nudges your thighs apart, and the cold air hits your wet pussy. He scoots between your legs.

You've made peace with it. You're as ready as you'll ever be. He puts his large, veiny hand on your mound with his thumb at your clit "You're beautiful," he whispers to your pussy.

Then he nestles the swollen head of his cock at your slick entrance. Your breath hitches in fear but your lower belly flutters with desire. It's bigger than three fingers but also smoother, rounder, and hopefully more comfortable.

“Ready?” He takes a deep breath.

You bite your thumb and nod.

He begins to push his imposing manhood into you, and it feels surreal, like your body is slowly being divided. Just the tip of him is already plugging you right like a bottle of wine.

And then there's a sound outside.

You gasp, and Joel covers your mouth. Your eyes are wide and your breath is wet against his palm.

Joel pulls out the smidgen of him that was inside you and whispers in your ear, “sit tight for me, baby.” He pulls on his jeans in a hurry, zips them up, no time to button, but his engorged member helps keep them up despite his belt hanging there heavily, unbuckled. He steps into his unlaced boots and throws a jacket over his bare chest, then pulls on his trapper hat and puts on his rifle. He looks. . . Hot.

A low voice speaks outside. Your heart races. "They're in there," the voice says. "You go around."

Joel walks to the door and holds up a finger to his mouth as though to say "shhh." You pull the blanket up around you.

He opens the door and shoots his gun right away. A man yelps and someone returns fire. It sounds like there are at least three of them. You scramble to put on your clothes and grab your rifle. You pull on your pants and meanwhile you lose track of how many gunshots are fired. A man bursts through the back door and yells "THERE'S A GIRL!" Then approaches you. You don't have your shirt on yet. The man grabs you by the elbow and forces you up to your feet. He has a knife in his hand.

After two more shots fired outside, Joel bursts back through the door and yells, "STEP AWAY, NOW!"

The man raises his hands in surrender. Joel disarms him, putting the knife in his pocket, then walks him out of the cabin. You hear screaming, then the man begging for his life, then gurgling, then a gunshot.

Your heart races. A second later, you could have been dead.

Joel returns to the shack and closes the door behind him. You can’t seem to slow your heart rate back to normal.

It turns out you've actually never seen anything hotter than Joel Miller standing there in his unlaced boots, his unbuttoned pants still largely held up by the bulge beneath them but still sagging enough to reveal a peek of pubic hair. His strong, bare chest heaves. There's a little blood splatter on his jacket. The rifle strap across his chest really completes the look. He takes off the rifle and jacket. When he removes his trapper hat, oh god, his mess of gray and silver hair - he looks so, so good. You feel something happening inside you, your body opening up, making space for him. Thankfully, he doesn't smooth his hair this time.

He’s still catching his breath, amped up from the gun fight and anxious to get back in your pants.

"C'mon now, where were we?" He palms himself as he unzips his jeans and his hard cock springs free as he lets them fall to the floor. All his muscles are bulging from the fight. His chest is red from the cold.

He hovers over you, and from the look on his face, you must seem terrified, perhaps even more than you are. "It's okay baby they're gone." He pulls the blanket off, tugs your pants down, then removes them. "They're all gone," he repeats. You're naked again, and he looks your body over. His thick, messy hair makes his dark eyes look so intense.

He wets his lips as he gets between your legs again. He's in a better mood now. He hovers over you and dips his head down to kiss and suck a nipple with his fingers lightly pinching the other one. "Prettiest girl I ever saw."

He feels between your legs and you're even wetter than before. "Good girl. Ready for me?"

"Yeah," you nod, and this time you kinda are.

You watch the veins on his neck as he notches himself at your entrance and begins to push. You wince at the massive stretch of his girth. Your eyes drift to his muscular arms. He doesn't wait. He pushes further, harder. He plunges into you as far as he can and your insides scramble to get out of the way.

"Ahh," you whimper and your eyes sting.

"You're alright, darlin."

You look at the ceiling and breathe. It's exactly as big and hard as you knew it would be. It feels impossible.

"Look at me, beautiful." You can't.

"Look at me," he repeats, and his hand on your jaw forces you to.

"You're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't ya?"

You nod and your eyes drift to his hair again.

He pulls back a couple of inches then thrusts his stiff length into you hard with a grunt, but still doesn't make it all the way. You're too tight. You can't help it.

"Relax for me, baby."

He pulls back a little, then plunges into you again, finally bottoming out with a sigh. You never imagined you could feel so full. As your body adjusts, you marvel at the feeling. Your walls are still fighting the intrusion, squeezing him, trying to push him out. And he lets it an inch at a time, but his cock is easily winning. It always reclaims its territory.

"Good girl," he says. He pulls back and slams in, to the hilt again. "Yeah," he whispers as he slowly retreats. "Just like that," as he fills you up again.

He pulls back slowly then briskly slams all the way into you. Each time he buries himself inside you, it feels a little better. You stop pushing him out at all. After a minute or two, your body allows him a regular rhythm. He looks at you with a new expression, sighs, and slows down but doesn't stop.

Catching you off guard, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You freeze, then he pulls back and says "gimme some sugar." You accept his mouth and he kisses you hard and long. Something flutters in your chest. He pulls away then ramps up the intensity of his hips and begins to pound you, grunting each time his balls hit your ass. It starts to become too much.

After another minute, his face gets dark, angry. It scares you. You worry that he's upset with your body starting to reject him. He pulls out and lowers his head, looking up at you as he pumps himself. Then he shoots his warm load all over your tired seam with a long sigh.

"Wasn't so bad, was it, beautiful?" He starts thumbing your clit. "Now I'll help you back."

You don't really feel like it, though, you're just spent.

"Um. Maybe next time," you say, not realizing what you've implied until his face lights up.

"Any time you want."

He moves to lie down next to you and you make space. Then he lets you fall asleep on his chest until the shift is almost over.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! 🖤

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OTHER VIRGINITY LOSS by me

series: Left in Lincoln (outbreak dbf)

one shots: night talks, Just the tip, Virgin sex worker.

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy

@tonysterco

@dark-scape the hair is for you

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #dark!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #creepy!joel #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #creepy!joel miller #dark!joel #pervy!joel miller #pervy!joel #patrol!Joel☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️#virginity loss #virgin!reader #pedro pascal smut

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randomperson3736 · 6 months

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Trauma

Paring(s): Bruce wayne x son! Reader, batboys x brother! Reader

Warning(s): mentions of rape, kidnapping, abuse, boxing, blood, childhood trauma, swearing

Genre: angst, sad

Summary: you're Bruce's adopted son and a vigilante to gotham city, but you have a horrible past you can't escape from.

Word bank: M/N- male name, V/N- vigilante name

Two years ago today, you were found and adopted by the billionaire Bruce wayne A.K.A the infamous batman. He had found you when out on patrol with the others A.K.A nightwing, red hood, red Robin and Robin.

And not long after Bruce had taken you in, you become V/N, the newest vigilante to gotham streets. But no matter how hard the others tried, you never opened up or socialised with any of them. All you did was stay in your room and only ever came out if you wanted food, water, the toilet, school,to train or to go out on patrol.

They didn't blame you for this of course. They knew your past and how you grew up. But they didn't understand why. Even after being with them for two years now you never once did anything with them. Were you not comfortable with them? Did you not like it here? Did you hate them? These questions ran through everyone's head, even damian's.

Bruce and Alfred believed you had depression or PTSD but never said anything beacuse they wanted you to ask for help... but you never did. Everyone feard that you had let your past cloud your whole life. And you couldn't blame them for this worry and fear.

You would snap so easily, train to the point you were bruised and bleeding, never slept for more then 2 hours a night, barley ate anything during the day. They all worried about you and your mental health and you knew that,you really did. You did tried to forget your past, move on from it and be more open with everyone but the past always haunted you.

You grew up in an abusive household with you're so called mother and father. You're mother was a addict who died when you were 7 because of the drugs and you're father was a cruel man who thought he owned the world. When you're mother did died, your father never got over it and blamed you for her death. So he began beating you often, everyday of every hour to the point you nearly died.

That wasn't the worse part of it, oh no. The worse part of it was when your father, the man who was supposed to protect you from anything, would sell you off to other people for money. But he didn't care what they did to you along as he got the fucking money.

That's pretty much how Bruce came across you. It was a cold winter night when your father had beaten you and sold you off to another man who did unspeakable things. The man was also some crazy drug lord who Bruce had been trying to nail for weeks. You looked so broken and empty when Bruce had found you, his heart broke at the sight of you. All their hearts broke at the sight of you.

You were extremely grateful for Bruce and for everyone but you still felt cold and empty even with your new family around. Your past was almost engraved inro your skin like tattoos and every time you thought about it you went to train. Training was almost like an distraction for you. It helped clear your head and get your anger out.

You started punching the punching bag with brutal force, and bare hands....

"WHY?! WHY?!WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!" You didn't even feel or see your hands bleeding nor the blood dripping down the punching bag and onto the cold floor.

Bruce and the others heard this and immediately stormed into the training room to find you in this... numb and empty state.

"Hey... no, no, no, what are you doing?! Hey it's okay... you're okay.... you're safe... you're fine... look at me M/N. You're okay..." Bruce said as he gently pulled you away from the punching bag and into a hug.

You sobbed into Bruce's chest, as each scream and cry that left your throat broke everyone's heart. "I-i'm sorry.... I'm so f-fucking sorry..." you sobbed out. Bruce just rubbed your back, trying to comfort you. "It's okay... you did nothing wrong, you hear me? Nothing" The others soon joined in on the hug, each one trying to comfort you in some way.

They wanted to make sure you felt loved and safe... and you did in that moment for the first time in years, you finally felt at home.

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gutsby · 8 months

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Easy Street

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Warnings: NSFW. Attempted vehicular manslaughter. Enemies to lovers to enemies again. Hatefucking, facefucking, and a fair share of overstimulation. Age gap. Loss of virginity. Dirty talk so foul it may set feminism back several centuries. 7.5k words + this fucking song.

“You are one sick son of a bitch.”

Gripping the steering wheel in one hand and the Collapsable Hearts Club cassette case in the other, you shook your head, disturbed. Even in the sunlight, the miniature music cartridge looked sinister. You flung it to the side.

How Negan could force-feed this shit to his prisoners was beyond you.

You were barely two verses into the song and ready to swerve your Crown Vic into a ditch—it was that bad. In spite of the fiercely upbeat tempo and catchy melody, each spoken word was like nails on a chalkboard. The lyrics almost taunting in how unfit they were for the cacophony of this tune:

We’re on easy street. And it feels so sweet. ‘Cause the world is but a treat—

“—when you’re on easy street,” you finished, reflexively.

Shit. You had to turn this off. You’d drive yourself insane if you listened another minute, you were sure. Your eyes darted to the dashboard and searched for the radio dial in a frantic look. Spotting it almost immediately, you clenched your hand in a fist and struck the button. Hard. Just wanting—needing—the music to stop.

But, to your horror, your careless right hook did just the opposite: instead of shutting off the song, it simply knocked the age-old button off the stereo system. You watched with eyes the size of dinner plates as the metal knob glanced off the gearshift and disappeared into the carpet below, taking with it all your hopes and dreams of escaping this musical torment.

You let loose a string of expletives and scrambled across the seat, almost forgetting you were driving. The tires of the police cruiser you’d hijacked just hours before went veering to the left. You managed to right the car mere seconds before it went flying off the road, but not before you tried retrieving the missing dial.

And we’re breakin’ out the good champagne…

The car swung wide to the side.

We’re sittin’ pretty on the gravy train…

“Where the fuck did it go?!”

And when we sing, every sweet refrain repeats…

“SHUT UP!”

Right here on easy street.

Before you could throw another punch at the dashboard, your whole body lurched forward and your face bashed the center of the steering wheel. Your cop car, freshly dented with the impact of a body you’d just struck, went spinning for a moment before coming to a screeching halt some yards down the road. Fickle bastards that happened to be your airbags didn’t bother to deploy.

You lifted your head from the shattered Ford logo in front of you and groaned.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror to see the bruised and bloodied mayhem that had taken the place of your face, you barely flinched. You weren’t sure why, or how, it had happened, but from start to finish you remained fully conscious. And fucking infuriated.

With a strength you hardly thought yourself capable of, you hoisted your body out of the car. Blinked hard against the rays of sunlight now searing your eyes, and made a circuit—half-limped, half-staggered in a zigzag sort of fashion—around the back of the car. You wavered on numb, unsteady feet before reaching clumsily into your back pocket.

A smile that resembled something more of a grimace made its way to your face as your fingers closed around the base of your Browning Hi-Power. Whatever dipshit walker that had crossed paths with your vehicle and caused you to wreck was about to get its head pumped full of lead, if it wasn’t dead already.

But just as you started to turn the corner and raise your gun, a strangled voice broke out:

“Hey, hey, stop! STOP!”

You stalled in your tracks and almost dropped your weapon. Either your vision had gone to shit or your mind was playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw a man waving his arms in a panic. Then he stopped.

You readjusted your grip on your pistol and kept it aimed at his head.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man paused a beat to eye you up and down, incredulous.

“You kiddin’?” he retorted.

When it looked as though he was moving closer to you, you fired a shot over his shoulder. The man jumped like a cat on hot bricks and slapped a hand over his ear, yelling,

“’Fuck was that for?!”

“I said, ‘Who are you?’” Your voice steadied with the recognition of your clear advantage.

The man, on the other hand, looked redder than ever. Though he didn’t budge an inch from his place and kept his hands held up in surrender, you could sense from the look on his face he was seething.

“Daryl,” he spat.

“Daryl who?”

“Daryl the-guy-you-just-hit-with-your-car, asshole.”

This time, you were the one to give him a skeptical once-over. Scanning his body for any signs of harm, only to make out a scrape on his cheek the size of your pinky. You wiped the back of your hand over a nose that was presently spurting blood like the Trevi Fountain and frowned.

“Y’don’t exactly look like roadkill to me,” you said flatly.

For the first time, Daryl’s mouth betrayed a hint of a smirk, and he tipped his chin in the direction behind you.

You turned, following his gaze, and eventually lowered your eyes to a lump in the road down yonder. You squinted.

“Is that a—” you started.

“Deer? Yeah.” Daryl finished.

When you angled back to face him, you saw the sour look had returned.

“Was s’posed’a be my dinner ‘til yer goddamn cop car chewed it up,” he said with a scowl.

So it was the deer he’d been carrying that you’d hit and sent your car to shit, and this man was bitching over a lost meal and a busted cheek? You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your jaw starting to clench at the sight of him.

The man carried on, oblivious, “If ye hadn’t been blastin’ yer music so loud maybe you’d’a seen me standin’ in the road with a fuckin’ carcass on my back.”

“Well I wasn’t—”

“Payin’ attention? I figured,” Daryl bit back before you could finish.

Then, after a beat, “Who are ye anyway?”

This part was bound to be fun. The stranger looking you up and down like you were nuts didn’t have a clue who you were, but you had a feeling he knew a thing or two about your people. The Saviors had a way of making their presence known among neighboring communities. You figured by the looks of this guy, he was just another boneheaded denizen of The Kingdom—or worse yet, Alexandria.

You flashed a smile and supplied, “I’m Negan.”

You’d been a Savior all of three weeks and hadn’t yet made the proclamation to anyone outside your camp before, so this felt like a particularly momentous occasion. You were eager to see how Daryl would respond. If it instilled even a fraction of the fear in him as it did in others—you know, when Negan Negan was swinging his beloved, barbed wire bat and saying those things—you’d be happy. If he showed so much as a morsel of deference to you, this would have all been worth it.

Instead, Daryl laughed.

Not a polite laugh, either. A sidesplitting, wide grinning sort of laugh that sent shockwaves through his body and had him doubling over in hysterics. Your cheeks flushed.

“No shit?” he wheezed, “Negan’s got a—a goddamn Barbie doll doing his bidding now?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, G.I. Jane.”

You’d heard enough of this. Had enough of him. You rubbed your blood-streaked face for the last time and turned on your heels. Stalking off in the other direction, the sounds of his laughter hardly seemed to subside, but it was apparent he wasn’t quite finished.

“I’m sorry,” he called after you, likely biting back a smile, “’m bein’ a prick, I know.”

You kept walking and pretended not to hear when footsteps bounded after you. You weren’t sure where you were going, or how you’d be getting there without a car, but you had a hunch that anywhere without Daryl was a place you’d like to be. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you shrugged it off and told him to shove it.

“Hey— I’m tryin’ to be nice here,” he protested.

When you turned to tell him it generally wasn’t a nice person’s prerogative to remind others they were nice, you stopped. Glanced down at Daryl’s outstretched arm and saw black fabric in his hand. And, just above it, his bare chest.

He’d torn off his sleeveless shirt and was holding it out to you.

“Here,” he grumbled, “For yer nose.”

You eyed the top with mild distrust and hesitated to take it. Daryl rolled his eyes.

You felt your whole body tense when a hand reached out to grab you. Gruff and graceless as ever, Daryl tugged you closer to him.

“Don’t move.”

You couldn’t help but wince when he dragged the material over your face. Certainly wasn’t gentle with it but seemed to make quick work of the dried blood nonetheless. You watched him closely as he continued to dab the makeshift medicinal rag over your lips and nose, and for a moment, he almost looked serene.

“So you’re part of Negan’s harem, huh?”

And the moment was gone. You glared at Daryl.

“I don’t fuck old guys,” you snorted.

As soon as your words hit the air, you cringed inwardly. Why did you say it like that?

It was true, Negan called you his wife—though you hardly considered him your husband—and the two of you had yet to consummate your marriage. You imagined that day would come eventually, but if you were honest with yourself, you really didn’t want to think what that night might entail. You’d barely made it to second base with your last boyfriend.

Presently, Daryl placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“Ouch.”

No doubt the man before you had you beat in years, too. By a landslide. He might’ve been a couple years younger than Negan, but he certainly didn’t look it. Had a hint of a youthful aura, if there was such a thing. An eternally cool fifty-something with the attitude of a man more than two decades his junior. You wondered for one brief, fleeting second if he might have the stamina of one too. You quickly regained your senses and felt the urge to barf in your mouth.

This man could be my father, you thought.

This man could be my “father,” your dirtier subconscious suggested.

“Ew,” you said aloud.

Daryl looked up from his current occupation and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I just—” You scrambled for a semi-plausible explanation for your outburst, “—just really hate the sight of blood.”

Daryl chuckled.

“Bullshit. I bet you’ve got some freaky kink for it,” he returned teasingly.

You were just then starting to suspect you might have a fetish for something else. You swallowed.

The taut, toned muscles in Daryl’s arms looked impossibly larger now that they were coated in sweat. With every forceful wipe of his hand, you saw some new bead of moisture fall from his skin or else dribble down his front, forming clusters of tiny rivulets that went trickling off his body. Like a tanned, trim stream of water you just wanted to lick—

“Clean!” Daryl announced, taking a step back to admire his work.

You suspected you still looked like shit, but you didn’t really care. You were too busy ogling Daryl’s body with a look of wanton lust to know, or care, or see much else, including the smirk that had begun to creep onto Daryl’s face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he sneered, chucking his shirt at you.

You barely managed to catch it as you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, a little too defensively for your liking.

You swallowed your embarrassment with a scowl and started off in the other direction.

“Where ya headed?” Daryl shouted after you.

“Sanctuary.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Can I please come?”

“Not unless you’re looking to have your head on a pike outside of it.”

Daryl grinned, “The thought might’ve crossed my mind.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Just when you came across a man with all the appearances of a perfectly aged fine wine and a killer body to boot, you find out he’s just as juvenile and dense as the rest of them. He continued to trot alongside you.

“You scared your husband’s gonna give you a whoopin’ or sumn’?” Daryl quipped.

“He’s not my husband,” you lied.

“Oh yeah?” he pressed.

“Yeah.”

“Then prove it.”

You slowed your pace to shoot him a look. He slowed a little too.

“I don’t have to prove anything,” you snapped.

Daryl raised his hands in defense, smiling just slightly.

“Never said you had to.”

You started to resume your trek again, only to halt a moment later when Daryl cut in:

“Yer a virgin, aren’t ya?”

This time the two of you came to a complete stop in the middle of the road. You saw the smug look on his face and wanted nothing more than to knock him on his ass.

“What did you just say?” Giving him a chance to fix his mistake.

Daryl did no such thing, only smiling even wider and crossing his arms.

“Just seems like you’ve never been fucked before,” he shrugged.

That was it. Without thinking twice, you shoved him hard in the chest and pushed him back a couple paces. Balled your hands into fists and nearly started pummeling his front, were it not for Daryl’s quick reflexes and frustrating ability to snag your two hands into one of his. He easily held your wrists captive above your head and squeezed them together—barely making an effort to restrain them and somehow doing it softly.

“You done?” he asked, unbothered.

You kicked him in the shin. This time he yelped, loosening his grip on you and leaving you space enough to break free. You contemplated another kick or shove for good measure, but seeing the enraged look on his face, you sensed it was in your best interest to flee. So you took off down the road.

You tore down the tarmac like a bat out of hell and chanced a quick look over your shoulder, only to see Daryl sprinting after you. Your stomach all but fell out your ass, and you kicked it into high gear as fast as you could.

“COME HERE!” Daryl bellowed behind you.

Your years outrunning walkers might finally have come in handy now. You sucked in a breath and took off like a shot, racing up the street with Daryl hot on your heels. With every second that passed, you sensed he was lagging further back. If you hadn’t been so scared he might beat you to a bloody pulp, you would’ve flipped him the bird or turned around to stick your tongue out.

The distance between you was even greater now. Your lungs were tight but breathing fine, and behind you, Daryl was audibly panting like a dog. You smirked to yourself.

Perhaps pushing your luck, you slowed down just a bit. Tried to stave off the oncoming wave of lactic acid soon to be stinging your muscles and keep the stomach cramps at bay. With your breaths growing more ragged and shallow by the second, you knew you couldn’t keep at this for too much longer. One of you would have to surrender at some point, and you knew it wouldn’t be you.

You were just then starting to regain speed when you felt something snag your waist. Before you could spare a look to the source of it, Daryl’s arm had already looped fully round your midsection and locked firmly in place. From there, his frame did the rest of the work as he took you both to the ground.

Daryl fell first. Got the wind knocked out of him and ate a face full of asphalt just in time for you to hit his body before you struck the concrete below. He let out a groan beneath you.

Together, you made a heaving, shaking mess in the middle of the road. Your body splayed over his, his arm still hooked around your hips, and the pair of you moaning and swearing and trying like hell to untangle yourselves from one another. You struggled to get upright, but your palms slipped on Daryl’s sweat-slick chest and sent you headfirst into his face. Daryl had just started to sit up when you knocked him flat on his back.

Nose-to-nose and practically panting into each other’s mouths, you shared a single, silent look—and simultaneously conjured up one of the worst ideas either of you had had to date.

“Wanna—” Daryl started.

“Yes.”

You and the man you’d just wanted to beat the living shit out of went shedding clothes like leaves off a tree. Daryl tearing the shirt off your body—so fast he damn near took your head off with it—and you fumbling at the buckle of his belt and whining at the feeling of a growing mound beneath you.

You freed belt, button, zipper, and boxers in a matter of seconds. Shocking even yourself, you started tugging his jeans down his legs, but Daryl stopped you.

“Leave it,” he grunted.

Before you knew it, he was hoisting himself off the ground with you still straddling his waist. Arms securing themselves under you and eyes searching wildly for the nearest car to fuck you on, Daryl groaned when your lips attached themselves to his neck. At length he settled on a long-abandoned Honda Civic perched on the edge of the road and dropped you onto the hood of it.

“Yer a shit driver, y’know that?” he said, yanking your shorts down your body.

You kicked them off at your ankles and inched yourself a little higher on the hood.

“Ever thought I meant to hit you?”

Daryl chuckled at that. Then he started lowering himself between your legs.

You’d been playing it unbelievably cool up until that point. Quick, witty, and nonchalant to a fault, as though you’d done this all a million times before. But inside you were panicked, fighting hard to keep your breaths in check and your stomach from twisting itself into knots. What was he planning to do with you? You’d only seen this stuff in movies, maybe once or twice in an incognito browser you’d opened years ago. You never thought you’d be doing any of it yourself—much less with a man twice your age and little more than a stranger to you—and suddenly, stupidly, you started to worry you might disappoint him.

You hadn’t even noticed Daryl had slipped down the length of your torso toward your heat. You tensed.

The next thing you felt was his hot breath fanning across your thighs, and you couldn’t help but try clamping them together, catching his head between the two of them.

“Ain’t even touched you yet,” he teased, glancing up at you.

You sincerely hoped neither your eyes nor your trembling thighs would give you away, but the look on Daryl’s face revealed just as much. Gaze still locked with yours, he offered a lopsided grin and started to bring his head even lower. Then, gently, he pressed a kiss over your panties. Then another. Then another.

You felt shivers the size of seismic waves pass over your body and he hadn’t so much as dipped a finger inside you. Slowly, you lifted your hips at Daryl’s behest and felt the fabric of your underwear disappear somewhere down your legs.

“We ain’t gotta do this if you’re—”

“Shut up,” you said, exasperated.

“Yes ma’am.”

Daryl imparted one last kiss to your aching core—this time unclothed—and groaned when he felt how wet you were before him. Almost immediately, his tongue darted out and licked a stripe up your slit. You moaned, squeezing your thighs even tighter.

Daryl didn’t mind. Just the opposite, in fact, as he delved deeper and flattened his tongue over your heat. Lapped up your juices and smirked when he felt you squirm above him.

“Dar—oh,” you began, only to break off in a semi-shriek when he found your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Wha’s’at?” Daryl’s voice came out muffled between your legs. Then lifting his head to be heard a little clearer, “You say sumn’, sugar?”

Your hands acted with a mind of their own as they hurriedly shoved his head back down.

“Don’t stop,” you hissed. You hardly knew what had come over you.

You heard one more muted, ‘Yes ma’am,’ and Daryl went dutifully back to his occupation of tongue-fucking you senseless. Coordinating a lethal combination of kissing, licking, sucking, and occasionally curling a finger inside you, he all but had you convulsing on the car with little to no hope of not cumming in his mouth. You threaded your fingers through his hair and yanked hard as the knot in your stomach started to tighten. One or two more suctioned kisses and a single lick between your folds and you’d be gone.

However, not long after that, Daryl did the cruelest thing you could’ve expected. He stopped.

Straightening up and taking a step back to marvel at the mess he’d made, he felt himself getting harder. All while you cussed and whined about how unfair he was being, he was concocting the filthiest thoughts imaginable. He grabbed both your ankles and jerked you closer. Then, crawling over you with pupils blown wide in lust, he seized hold of your throat in one hand and yanked you up hard to greet him.

You gagged, dragged your fingers helplessly over the single hand that was holding you up, and nearly started seeing stars when Daryl brought his face even closer to yours.

“You don’t cum ‘til I tell you to,” he said through gritted teeth, before letting go of your neck as quickly as he’d caught it and watching you fall back on your ass.

Sprawled out on the hood of the Honda, you cursed your deep-rooted daddy issues for finding that act of aggression arousing. You feigned an angry look and pouted up at him.

Before you could mouth off just to make him even angrier, you felt yourself manhandled once more: this time, plucked off the car and into Daryl’s arms. He promptly shifted your weight to one side and freed one of his hands to start fooling with something you couldn’t see beneath you. When you heard the rustle of fabric and felt him start to strain a little, you got the picture.

Daryl returned you to the car—this time, straddling him on the hood of it.

When he’d made himself comfortable and lifted you over his hips, he said, “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

“About what?” you huffed, already antsy with impatience.

“’bout this.” Daryl slipped a hand between your bodies and grazed your cunt with his knuckle. You pursed your lips tight to suppress the moan that followed.

“What about it?” you whined, trying, and failing, to steady your voice.

The corners of Daryl’s mouth twitched at the sight of you growing flustered. Quietly, he extended one finger and dragged it up your slit. Pretended not to hear when you whimpered his name.

“Have y’ever been fucked there?” he asked casually.

You had long since lost the tolerance for games. You shook your head and told him, “No.”

“What about here?”

Daryl beckoned you with the fingers of his free hand, and when you leaned in, brought them up to your lips. He cupped your chin and tapped your mouth, as if to accentuate his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, quietly.

If it were possible for Daryl to get any harder, he would have. You weren’t just a virgin, but an absolute, unadulterated novice to the world of depravity that infiltrated his every desire. Something about the artlessness and innocence in an amateur like yourself sent the blood pumping straight to his cock as he imagined all the things he could teach you. He couldn’t keep from staring at your lips, imagining his member pumping back and forth between them, or at your eyes, wondering how they’d lock with his the moment he pushed inside you. All thoughts of a rough and ruthless piledriver fuck escaped his brain as he sat back and simply relished the idea of being your first. It was all he could think about.

You, on the other hand, weren’t quite picking up what he was putting down and found yourself shifting uncertainly above him. Wondering if you had done something to upset him as he continued to watch you with a thousand-yard stare and didn’t say a word.

“Is that...okay?” you asked, your voice now barely above a whisper.

Daryl’s gaze flitted to yours, and he almost groaned at the wide-eyed expression of naïveté on your face.

Instead of answering, he took your hips in his hands and dragged your lower half over his. Letting you feel, for the first time, just how swollen and erect he was beneath you. Your breath hitched a little in your throat, but you couldn’t deny the sensation was incredible. As before, your body just sort of acted of its own accord and started rubbing against him, while you hoped, implacably, that whatever you were doing was normal. Judging by the sound he let out moments later you deduced that it was.

You hardly realized it yourself, but your heat was dripping with arousal. Coating Daryl’s cock with every gyration of your body while the man below you had only to grit his teeth and hiss at the sensation. When he glanced down to watch you, he almost groaned with pleasure.

“I need to fuck you,” he blurted out, half-declaration, half-plea.

That drove the point home well enough.

You watched with some amusement as Daryl continued to clench his jaw and fight with every fiber of his being not to buck his hips up into you. You almost felt tempted to giggle when all of a sudden Daryl took your face in his hands. Then he kissed you, deeply.

You were taken aback by the gesture but kissed him back all the same, surprised neither of you had made an attempt to do it before. With no great difficulty at all, your mouths melded into one another as he gripped the sides of your face and pulled you even closer. He slipped his tongue between your lips, and you tasted a tang of yourself still lingering on it. You opened your mouth a little wider in the hopes Daryl would afford you more of it.

But then, as quickly as he’d started, he stopped. He pulled away, looked you up and down, and swallowed.

“You sure y’want to?” he murmured.

Presently, and impatient as you were, you decided to take a page from Daryl’s book and gratify his question with a wordless answer. You rolled your hips over his and pushed the head of his cock against your wet, aching hole, peering into his eyes with the purest ‘fuck-me’ look you could muster.

Daryl was already gripping the base of his cock and angling it toward your entrance. Hoping you wanted this as badly as he did, pondering with some apprehension how he might fit you and whether it’d feel good for you at first or take some getting used to—all while needing you on him, around him, filled to the brim with every inch and pleading for more. Unlike himself, he found it near impossible to make that first push inside you, still plagued with the thought he might break you in two.

Sensing this, you did something uncharacteristic of yourself too, and made the first move to ease down on his length.

Your body welcomed him with surprising ease, though the inches came slow and the stretch was something you hadn’t expected. Your eyes flickered to Daryl’s as the sting turned to a burn, and you almost couldn’t bring yourself down to the base of him without the sound of a few strangled whimpers escaping your lips. Daryl’s hands quickly worked their way around you and started rubbing up and down your back, as if to distract you from the feeling while his eyes searched yours for any signs of serious discomfort.

“Hey, you’re good,” he assured you quietly, swallowing a moan of his own as your warmth engulfed him completely, “You’re good, honey, you’re good.”

When you looked to him as if to say, ‘Holy shit, are you sure?’ he just smiled and nodded.

“Takin’ me so good,” he murmured, eyes glued on you, “Doin’ so fuckin’ well.”

His soft consolations rang clear in your ears and encouraged you to keep going. You lifted yourself in his lap and brought your body back down again, this time gratified with Daryl’s first moan. He snaked an arm around your waist and helped you gently buck your hips to his and rock them back and forth. Together, you watched your bodies grind against each other in a hot and sweaty mess, making sounds as sticky and obscene as you’d ever heard before, and right then, you swore you could have cum at the sight of that alone. The initial burn gave way with each passing moment to a sweeter sort of feeling deep within your belly. You picked up your speed just a bit and braced yourself hard against Daryl’s chest.

“My baby feelin’ good?” he said, breaths coming out in shallow puffs now as you rode him.

You bit your lip and nodded, practically bouncing in his lap with your hands still anchored on him and your eyes beginning to close.

“That good, huh?” Daryl hummed.

When you nodded again, he dropped a hand to the spot where your bodies connected and rubbed a light, lazy circle between your folds. Your eyes squeezed tighter at the jolt of pleasure, and your body moved even faster.

“Fuck, Daryl,” you whined. “I-I–”

“What?” Daryl smirked.

You ventured a look back down at him, eyes all glossy and soft. You were still writhing, still rolling up and down his shaft with a fucked-out look as his hips started to snap up into you. In a moment, you surprised the both of you as you gripped his shoulder and said:

“I want you to fuck me from behind.”

Daryl was still rutting into you and somehow unable to comprehend how a thing as lithe and naive as you looked could ever say something so coarse. When he didn’t respond for some seconds, you sighed, disgruntled.

“C’mon, Dar,” you whined, “have I gotta bend myself over this car and—”

Daryl didn’t let you finish. Flipped you over beneath him and did exactly as you hoped he would, stomach flat on the hood of the car and ass up in the air.

He didn’t waste another moment waiting for your assent as he had before. He just thrusted himself in one, sloppy drive and made you moan as he bottomed out inside you. Snatched a fistful of hair in one hand and yanked your head back to meet his gaze.

“Anyone ever taught you manners?” he growled, likely displacing dozens of strands of hair from your scalp with the way he was pulling it, “Ever heard of please, and thank you, daddy?”

Your knees buckled at the last. Stretched and stuffed with his cock, you swear you couldn’t have felt any filthier than the instant he’d uttered that final word in your ear. You watched him, mouth hanging open, and hardly knew what to say.

“You know,” Daryl started, breaking your heart when he withdrew himself from your hole, “I don’t think you deserved to be fucked like this at all.”

Heaving breath after desperate breath over the hood of the car, you turned yourself fully to face him. He wasn’t smiling, or watching you with those careful, kind eyes anymore.

“I do,” you cried, “I want you to fuck me like that, Daryl, I do.”

“I bet you do,” he snapped, retreating another step, “I said you don’t deserve it.”

You would’ve fallen to your knees if you had a fraction less sense than you did. Pleading him with wild, frenzied eyes and legs that were liable to collapse with the weight of your desire, you didn’t blink when Daryl’s hand found the back of your head again—yanking it down this time around.

“Something tells me that mouth needs fucking if it wants a lesson in etiquette,” he griped, shoving you to the ground in front of him.

You cowered on your knees as your face hovered inches from his stiff, expecting member. The problem was, you didn’t know what he was expecting, or how he wanted it done. Were you supposed to take him in both hands and rub him up and down, pepper kisses down every throbbing vein and lick him ‘til he came, tease him with your tongue like he had with you, or else swallow him whole? You didn’t know, couldn’t start, would’ve like to wait another minute or two contemplating your latest charge when all of a sudden, Daryl’s hand pushed you straight on his cock.

Not an easy couple inches or a light, gentle thrust to get you used to his size in your mouth. A full-forced thrust to the back of your throat, causing your mouth to convulse, contract, and gag around him in response. Your eyes welled with tears and ventured a look to the man with his fingers still threaded through your hair. The scowl hadn’t ebbed from his features, and the eyes were hardly more sympathetic. He dragged you back up his length so there was just enough space for you to speak, and uttered, almost mockingly:

“What do we say when we want something, sugar?”

Your mind was buzzing, but the answers came quicker than you thought.

“Please,” you spluttered, drool leaking down your chin, “I say please.”

“Wrong,” Daryl declared.

Without another word, he shoved your face down the length of his cock and pulled it back even faster. You were still reeling with the force of your gag reflex and sucking in a breath when he began again.

“Please what?” he pressed, tilting your head up to face him.

“P-Please, daddy. Please, daddy,” you supplied in an instant.

A marginally gentler touch massaged the back of your head with his fingertips, and for a second, you thought you were clear. Then Daryl went pushing your mouth back onto him, albeit slightly less harsh, and you readily closed your lips around him and bobbed on his cock. You sucked happily and with more enthusiasm than you thought yourself able, just wanting to make Daryl happy and keep him guiding you over his length with a more tender grasp.

And he did just that. Seemingly appeased by your obedience and more than pleased to watch you slide up and down him as you were, he ran a more considerate touch over your head and let you do most of the work.

You flattened your tongue on the bottom and curled your lips around your teeth to keep the friction minimal. Almost amazed how natural it felt to be servicing his cock and wanting, more than anything, to know you were making him proud. When a long, protracted moan graced your ears the moment you reached the base of him, you held him there as long as you could and hummed a quiet, muffled whimper of your own.

When Daryl pulled you off a second later, you were disheartened, to say the least. You parted your lips and leaned in to take him in your mouth again, only to feel yourself being gathered back up in Daryl’s arms and brought to your feet.

“Go on,” he murmured, pacing forward and nudging you gently to the point the backs of your knees hit the grill of the car behind you, “Tha’s my good girl.”

You fell back and watched Daryl’s body trail close behind. By the time you were flat on your back, he was wedged between your thighs with a hand planted on either side of your head.

If wanted him any more, you’d probably be blue in the face, unable to breathe, and on the brink of seeing stars. Your chest rose and fell with the shortest, shallow breaths, and it seemed each passing moment brought you nearer to your fear that they might stop altogether if Daryl didn’t touch you soon. You gladly parted your legs further to accommodate his frame, and when you felt him above you, poised inches from your aching heat, you wrapped your legs around him. Tight.

“Tell me how ye want it,” Daryl grunted.

“Want you deep inside me, daddy, please,” you answered, taking care not to neglect your “manners.” Then, more softly, “Want you to fuck me ‘til I can’t walk, daddy, pretty pretty please.”

Daryl moaned at the sounds of your excitement, feeling you dig your heels in his ass and tug him even closer. His cock twitched at your entrance.

“Tha’ what you want?” he hummed, grazing his lips along your cheek, “Tha’s what my baby needs?”

You nodded frantically. Daryl nodded too, as if commiserating with you, but then felt unable to suppress the smirk that was threatening to grow on his face. He reveled in your pleasure and your pleas all the same and wanted to make this good for you. He couldn’t make you wait.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he sank his cock between your folds and gratified you both with a familiar, filling stretch. You clenched around him and earned another low, guttural moan as Daryl pushed deeper inside you. It didn’t take long for the pace of his thrusts to pick up, impatience and desperation practically tangible in the air between you. You let your head loll back and felt Daryl’s own fall into the crook of your neck, breaths hot on your skin as he continued to pound you into the metal surface below.

“’s a shame ya don’t— fuck older guys,” Daryl whispered, punctuating his words with another thrust. Ridiculing you for your comments earlier and making you squirm as he did.

If you weren’t so close to climax you would’ve told him to fuck off—probably made yourself look a little stupid as a man twice your age was currently balls deep inside you, giving you dick like no other on the front-end of a Honda Civic. Instead, you swallowed your pride and smiled.

“Glad you could get it up when I did, daddy,” you managed quietly, cloyingly. Almost wanting to slip a sly Cialis joke at the end but thinking better of it.

Daryl took one of your legs over his shoulder then, pounding you at a vicious speed.

“Anything for my favorite Savior,” he returned, just as caustic and cruel as he relished the squelching sounds between you.

Your head fell back with the new, nearly unbearable sensation radiating from your core, and Daryl quickly cradled you between his arms. Hunched over you now and fucking you faster than ever, he wanted—no, needed—to see you cum, and he’d stop at nothing to see it happen.

He hauled your other leg to rest flat on his shoulder and thrusted even deeper. With both ankles above your head and your eyes practically rolled back in pleasure, it took him all of ten seconds to find your clit and make you scream. Not a moan or a shriek or a half-hearted whimper, but a scream that went echoing down the road and through the woods and likely in the ears of every walker within a five mile radius. Neither of you cared.

Your eyes locked on Daryl’s and glazed over with desire, all you needed was release.

“I-I’m close,” you managed, breath hitching with every snap of Daryl’s hips.

“Fuckin’ show me then,” Daryl bit back, “Show daddy how good his cock’s makin’ ya feel.”

What little you could show him came in the form of a strangled moan and a sigh, and Daryl didn’t seem satisfied with this in the slightest. Rather than take you at your word, he grasped your face in one hand and jerked your head toward him. Heart racing and chest shaking with every breath, he drove himself a little deeper and felt you clench him around him even tighter when he hit your sensitive spot.

“Wanna cum for daddy, is tha’ what y’want?” he prodded. Pretending not to hear when you squealed his name and writhed with every graze against your g-spot.

“Yes, daddy, please let me cum— a-all over your cock,” you stammered.

Daryl smoothed the hair out of your face and caught a glimpse of the cockdrunk expression painted on it, and almost shot his load on the spot. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t cum ‘til he had your own release spilling down his member, that much he knew. You were being so good for him, taking him so well, and on top of it all, calling him daddy left and right like your life depended on it. Daryl was smitten.

Sensing your orgasm was fast approaching, he dropped a hand between your legs and took care to keep it gentle. Watched your lips form an “o” and a hand reach for his, hurriedly, while an old, familiar feeling just then started to twist in your stomach.

“Daryl,” you shrilled, squeezing his hand as tight as you could.

“Right here, honey,” Daryl murmured, eyes steady on yours, “I’m right here, you can cum for me.”

He clutched your fingers right back and felt them tighten as a new wave of pleasure broke over you. Your moans came quick and took a higher pitch, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, and the best, albeit maddening, part for Daryl came when your muscles started to pulse around him, nearly sending him over the edge himself. You dropped your head back into his hands and simply felt him—in you, and on you, and at your ear with the gentlest words of encouragement. You breathed out a sigh when the pleasure started to subside.

Daryl didn’t stop. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and the soft, earnest grunts stayed constant as he continued to rut into you and circled a thumb over your clit.

You whined with your sharply heightened sensitivity and pressed your hands to his chest, bewildered by this feeling and why the hell Daryl had kept going.

“Dar—”

“One more, darlin’,” Daryl urged, as delicate as he was adamant.

Your eyes widened, every nerve ending in your body on the fritz. Your fingernails carved bright red crescents in his skin with the force of every thrust, and for a time, it seemed you were riding out the longest orgasm of your life. You clung to Daryl and let your pleasure overtake you. You scarcely understood the sensation more than you did Daryl’s intentions, but the longer he fucked you, the more intense the feeling grew, and within a matter of seconds you were coming undone again, the swell of your second climax washing over you with a mind-numbing fury.

Eager as he was to fuck you into your third, Daryl just couldn’t resist the sights and sounds and unbearable sensations beneath him any longer, and he felt his own orgasm tearing through his body moments later. You felt a spurt of warmth within you and a set of lips finding yours in a frantic, clumsy kiss, and you relished the noises Daryl made as he rode out his high.

You were still kissing in between delirious gasps for air and all but shaking on the sweat-soaked hood of the car. Daryl’s hips slowed before coming to rest comfortably between your thighs, still inside you.

Wide-eyed and smiling, Daryl raised a hand to your head and was just then brushing some hair from your face to plant a couple more kisses, when a voice broke out across the way:

“Ho-ly shit!”

You and Daryl jumped at the intrusion and glanced behind you. Your blood ran cold.

You spotted a familiar salt-and-pepper speckled head of hair and a set of eyes glinting with amusement. Standing off to the side with his attention fastened to the two of you and a head shaking back and forth, slowly, as if in disbelief.

“Daryl Dixon, you dirty, dirty dog!” he chided, “How’s it feel to pop my wife’s cherry before me, brother?”

At the last, Negan tightened his grip on Lucille and smiled.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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fluffysucker · 9 months

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Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

In no world were you meant to be together, but in every universe, you were meant for each other.

A/N: I present you grumpy sunshine wrapped in enemies(ish) to lovers with Beefy Boxer/Biker Bucky.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated.

Also, I tried to be as inclusive as possible. But my delusion couldn't be controlled I'm sorry.

Ngl this is for me more than anything.

Also, I'm thinking about making this its own universe and maybe write more of it. Tell me what you think

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You hated Bucky Barnes, and he hated you.

The two of you should have never crossed paths. Your worlds should have never met. But the wall separating you could only hold for so long.

The infamous boxer was a phenomenon in his field. Unbeatable and astute, Bucky Barnes held his reputation with pride. He was stronger than all and the smartest the game had. His jab was as numbing as the winter. His techniques were as calculated as a soldier's. Bucky Barnes was as hard as nails. A legend.

To keep up with the notoriety, it was rumoured that Barnes and his team were also a biker gang. It was never confirmed, but the black leather jacket he always had on, the long hair touching his shoulder or tidied in a low bun, the motorbike barked in front of the gym, and the intimidating sense lingering around him. It was never denied, either.

In the mornings, Bucky Barnes ran a successful gym with his two bestfriends, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both played occasionally, but only Bucky was the professional, so they were more his trainers. They also trained other players and armatures. They tried to gain other normal customers, but it didn't always work. With a reputation like theirs, attracting customers wasn't easy.

It was usually the same for nights, unless they had matches. Most of their fights were held on Stark's property. He ran an empire, and boxing was the dominant centre, led by the biggest champion. And Stark lets Bucky have it his way, just like he likes. As long as Bucky keeps on bringing these huge numbers into their pockets, both are happy and content.

So it was out of the nature for Bucky to have zero interest in the new restaurant that opened up right next door to the gym. They had their regularly frequented places. The bar run by Romanoff and Belova, a couple of blocks away from Stark's property, was more than enough. He didn't even bother to throw a glance at it. Even after he knew that the owner had come by and given out menus and promised them discounts if they stopped by, there was still nothing.

Until one night. Bucky got carried away in training. He had an important match coming up. He knew his opponent barely stood a chance, but Bucky enjoyed the thriller of the game. The sweat and blood that go into it He didn't remember a time when he didn't want to do this. It was like it was programmed so deeply in his brain. He was made for this.

Everyone left, one by one. Until then, it was only him. After so many hours, he finally got tired. He threw his gloves aside and went to take a shower to remove the evidence of his hard work before going back home. As he was locking the gym's door, he heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he needed food. He was starving. Before deciding to wait and order food once he got home, the big sign caught his eye. They did indeed have a restaurant right next door. He admitted he was too tired to cook or wait for delivery. He needed food, then crashed into his bed. So maybe the closest restaurant would be useful.

Once he stepped in, he felt out of place immediately. His dark clothes and huge frame made him look like a stranger compared to the light-coloured painted walls. Some had flowers, and others had stars drawn on them. There were fairy lights in some corners. The aromatic scent was everywhere. Bucky almost winced at how bright and colourful everything felt. This was an alternative universe that he didn't belong in.

"Hi, how can I help you?" An even sweeter voice rang and caught Bucky's attention, breaking him from his trance of observing the place.

He turned around to find the prettiest girl he had ever seen standing behind the counter. Your beauty caught him off guard. He never believed someone could be so beautiful before. But here you were, standing. Taking his breath away.

He recovered very quickly and moved to stand in front of the counter. With the most loving smile, you handed him the menu. He took a look at the menu and wanted to laugh out loud. Dish names were just as cheerful as the atmosphere.

Out of habit, you started explaining and recommending stuff for him. He interrupted you, putting in his order. You didn't give it much thought but took his order happily.

You apologised for the lack of waiters, as it was almost closing time and it was only you. No answer. With his blank stare, you told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Only then did he notice the empty restaurant. It was just you and him. It was that late. So he took a seat at the nearest table.

Not taking much, you returned with his order. You placed it in front of him with a big smile on your face. You knew right away who that was the minute he walked in. James Barnes. The famous boxer who trains next door You have been praying after your small visit to them that they would be regular customers. The business was doing great. But the more, the merer. Always. Lots of people warned you about the men next door. But you didn't feel like they were as bad as people made them out to be. You were always so trusting, unless shown otherwise. So you were happy that, finally, one of them stopped by.

You moved away, letting him enjoy his food. Unable to fight your nature, you started talking to him as you continued cleaning the remaining parts of the place. No answer again. He didn't even bother to look at you. Okay. Maybe he had a rough day. Not all people are used to chatting.

Bucky was one of these people. His eyes widened as you started talking to him. People were never that friendly to him. People avoided him. Nobody tried to open up a conversation with him. He didn't know how to react. And he was too tired to try. So he practiced his other specialty. Silence. But even if he wouldn't admit it, Bucky found your voice calming. So he let you talk instead of just shutting you up.

You reduced your talking to a minimum. Only little remarks there and then to avoid complete silence. The second time, you heard his voice since he walked in and asked for the check. You brought the paper to the table he occupied, keeping your smile up and telling him that he got the 'neighbour discount' as you called it. You almost heard his scoff as you left him.

You had your back to the door, so you only turned around when you heard the door close. You didn't hear his footsteps, and most definitely, you didn't hear his goodbye, goodnight, or even thank you. Now that's rude.

You returned to the table to collect the check. But you found the review note you attached to every check empty. Not a single penmark. And that was more rude. You made sure that filling out the note only took seconds. You genuinely cared to hear people's opinions so you could be better and have the restaurant grow more.

So he didn't speak to you for more than two sentences. Didn't say thank you or goodbye. Didn't fill in the note. Okay, maybe you didn't want them as customers if they were all that rude.

It turns out they weren't that rude. However, Bucky was more rude than you thought.

A couple of days after Bucky's visit, you were surprised to see Bucky with another two men. You guessed they were Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The trio was all well-known. You doubted if Bucky was the one to recommend the restaurant. You weren't sure if he even liked the food. And you were right. He would be caught dead if he brought up the fairy world you called a restaurant. Even when it served the tastiest food he had ever had,

It was a slow day. No intense training or excessive fight preparation The three men didn't have much to do that day. So when Steve suggested trying out the restaurant, Bucky neither objected nor showed excitement.

So when they walked in, you couldn't help the feeling of surprise along with the tiny bit of happiness, hoping it would be a nicer visit this time. After preparing their orders and sending them out, you waited for a bit before you left the kitchen to greet them. Not before making sure you looked presentable.

With the small space and their loud voices, it wasn't hard to locate them. You approached them with a big smile and positive attitude.

"I wanted to make sure you were having a good time." You followed up after introducing yourself.

"The food is amazing. This burger is to die for." Steve was the first to compliment you, with Sam nodding and agreeing.

"You have one good chef." Sam added as he took another french fry into his mouth. "Send my regards to them."

"Actually, I'm also the chef." The statement caused a shocked expression to fill in their faces. They asked for details, and you briefly told them how you were the core of the small business as the owner and main chef.

The two men were polite, and they didn't seem annoyed by your chatty personality. In fact, they interacted with you and asked questions to learn more. And all they had to say were nice compliments. Except one.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what was the inspiration for the place? Was it a fairy garden or Disney's latest cartoon?" None of you were ready for the sarcastic comment Bucky threw at you.

You didn't let your smile break in the face of his sarcasm. Nor did you give much thought to the pet name. You put on a bigger smile now, looking at him.

"A bit of both." That's one thing about you: you refused to let the world change about you. You never reciprocate rudeness with rudeness.

"I can tell." Bucky was taken back by your response. He expected you to get offended, but you didn't.

"Thank you. It was my vision all along." You replied, your smile never leaving your face.

And that started your hate relationship with Bucky Barnes.

After that day, the men became regular customers. And it wasn't just the three men. Little by little, it was most of the team. First, it was just to try the good food. Then it was because they wanted to. They wouldn't admit it, but your place was like a breath of fresh air. Something so different from what they are used to. From what they are known for. From what people expected from them. And you never judged them, treated them differently, or asked about the rumours that followed them. So it was a calm change, but much needed.

But their favourite thing was yours and Bucky's constant bickering. Or more Bucky's. Nobody understood why Bucky was doing this. You never partook in his constant attempts to make fun of you. You always had a sweet response to fire back. You truly were the living embodiment of killing them with kindness.

However, he never stopped. Every time he stepped foot in the place, you claimed it was your biggest achievement. He had something rude to say. Something to annoy you with. Something to bother you. Sarcasm and jokes spilling out of him with no end whatsoever.

The number of times you wanted to punch him or snap at him right back was increasing. But you refused to give in. To let him win. He wouldn't be the one to change you. So you kept engaging with him only with gracious things to say.

Besides, you chose to think that everyone had their own battles and demons. And for sure, Bucky looked like he had lots of them. He looked rougher than most. His job made him appear invincible, but he wasn't. Nobody was. So he may drive you mad, but he deserves the gentle treatment you offered all.

Bucky had no idea why he was doing it. Why every time he saw you, he felt the urge to tease you. It wasn't like him. But he didn't fight it back.

"How are you, Tinkerbell?"

"You should buy green carpets. It will finish off the garden aesthetic."

"Here is the princess who got lost."

"The pasta was great, Barbie."

Stuff like this flew from him all the time. And not once did you get back at him. You stayed nice and polite. Your sweet self never crumbling.

There was something in you that drove him insane. Your warm eyes. Your bright smile. Your cheerful voice. Your positive mindset. Your kind heart. Your friendly nature. Your hard work. Your delicious food. Your colourful wardrobe of dresses, skirts, tops, and cardigans. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was all of it.

The deepest part of him knew why he was doing this. He liked you. He liked you so much. From the moment he entered your restaurant alone, the first time And the more he knew you, the more he liked you. You were special. And you were everything he wasn't. He thought if he got closer, he would be tinting you. He would bring darkness to your shine. A moral thing preventing him from speaking his truth. even thinking about it.

So he acted like a teenager. He made fun of you. In hopes of making you hate him. He convinced himself and the others that he didn't like your sunshine personality.

Until one day

It started off like any normal day. Bucky had a match coming up. So they all had something to do. The day was going fine. Up before Peter Parker, who was usually on reception duties, ran in and said there was fire in your place,

For a second, blood ran cold in Bucky's body. He heard ringing in his ears. Were you okay? He collected himself quickly, wanting to check for himself.

He threw the gloves away, almost pushing everybody out of the way to get out. And he was the first to see the chaos in the street. A firetruck was parked, and firemen were going in and out of your restaurant along with some policemen. His eyes were searching for you frantically until he spotted you.

You had some dust on your face and your white clothes. You were checking that everyone was okay and out safely. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips or your shaking body.

He couldn't help himself as he ran towards you. You turned as you felt someone approaching you. Without your control, your face softened, and tears blurred your sight once you noticed who it was.

"Bucky." You whispered as a way to ground yourself from all the mess that happened and is still happening.

Following his first instincts, Bucky pulled you into his chest, wrapping your trembling form in his arms and holding you so close to him. And the dam broke.

Sobs fled from you. Tears mixed with his sweat. Your fists gripped his white tank top. Your face hidden away in his chest.

You didn't know how it happened. You had been holding up well enough during it all. You had been managing the situation the best you could. However, when Bucky got here, your mind stopped working. Your mind gave up on you, letting your emotions hit you with full force, breaking down your bastion with no guarantee you would be caught.

But you were. You were braced by strong amrs, rubbing your back, laying small kisses on your hair, and whispering words of comfort in your ears. "I'm here. I'm right here." "You're okay. You're fine."

Your sobs ceased, but your body still shook against Bucky's. Tears remained to fall freely on your face. Bucky's hold was still firm but secure around you.

You only moved away from him when a policeman approached you, informing you that you were needed at the police station.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky's stern voice left no room for negotiation. It wasn't up to debate. He wasn't leaving you.

"I'll grab my stuff in a second." He turned to the policeman standing in front of you, making sure it was okay that he joined. And he got a nod of approval in return.

He left your side, walking towards the gym. He paid no attention to his friends standing by, who were puzzled by the encounter. And true to his words, he came back in seconds, his black leather jacket on, phone in hand, and wallet in hand.

He got to you, letting his hand wrap around your shoulder. The gesture was welcomed by you as you rested your head on his chest. Something about having Bucky spread calmness in you

At the police station, Bucky found out what really happened. It wasn't just fire. It was a robbery. A bunch of armed men attacked your restaurant, demanding money from you and all the people inside. As you are trying to handle the situation without panicking more, it was discovered that one of the customers was a cop, which sent the robbers into an unexpected turn. So they took all they could from the cash register and your own things before setting the kitchen on fire to run away without being caught.

Between talking with the insurance company, the bank, and watching security footage from your restaurants and the street, you spent the rest of the day in the station.

And Bucky didn't leave your side for a second of it.

He didn't leave you until you both got out of the cap in front of your apartment. And he didn't leave until he made sure you got inside safely.

Something about you being hurt sent Bucky into a spiral. Who was heartless enough to hurt such a sweet soul as you? To look at you and not want to give you everything? Bucky would never know. All he knew was that he never wanted to see you so afraid and shaken like today. To not see your smile lighting up your face. So he would do whatever it took to make sure you were always fine.

Which was why you found him by your building the first thing in the morning.

"You have lots of places to go today. Said I would join you."

And up until you were handed the keys to your restaurant brand new after the insurance company had finished the repairs, Bucky didn't leave you. He was always there. Helping you finish papers, going to the police station to identify the robbers, and buying new stuff for the restaurants. Everything. He was there for everything.

And you had to admit. It was lovely to have him. A helping hand you needed. Physically and emotionally. Someone to share this unfortunate journey with. And Bucky didn't bother it for a bit. And you appreciated having him.

So, it only felt right for him to be your first order after the reopening.

The truth was, you never hated Bucky, no matter how much you tried. His huge form, his steel blue eyes, his signature stare, his playful smirk. They all made you feel something. He made you feel something you couldn't quite understand. But it was a pleasant something. He annoyed you so much, but you never took it too seriously. Maybe he hated you, but you didn't.

Now, you didn't need him. You were ready to carry on with your life. He didn't know how to get back to normal. He couldn't. He couldn't pretend you didn't make his heart beat faster. You made his days better. But he was so unworthy of you. And he knew you could never look at him. Maybe you hated him, but he didn't.

He tried to get back to his life. Only training and matches. Only visiting your place with the others who quickly figured out what was happening. He needed to get you out of his mind. That lasted for two days.

When Bucky was closing the gym, he heard something coming from your restaurant. With a frown, he moved to see you still inside. He looked at his watch to check the time again. It was indeed late.

"What are you doing?" He didn't bother with greetings as he entered.

"Hi, Bucky." Your cheerful voice rang through the empty place.

"What are you doing?" He repeated his question, looking at the paper in front of you.

"I'm sending out advertisements and deal offerings to different places." You answered him with a smile.

"Sweetheart, do you know what time it's?" Bucky signed as he looked at you, looking clueless.

"C'mon, let's get you home." He moved towards you, taking the papers out of your hand and putting them down without messing them.

"But I have a lot to do." You tried to protest as he gathered your stuff and helped you out.

"It will still be here in the morning." And he was having none of it.

"I need to get the business going." You added.

"You can do that in the morning, too." Bucky led you out of the restaurant in spite of your complaining.

He took the key from your hand and handed it back to you after he closed up. You expected him to move away, but he didn't.

"How are you going to get home?" He hoped you wouldn't give him the answer he had in mind.

"It's not very far. I was going to walk." And it was it.

Do you not care about your safety, or do you think you are James Bond?

Bucky had to bite his tongue and not scold you right on the spot. He knew you were stressed about the business, so he didn't want to add more.

"Great. I was going somewhere there, too. Let me walk."

"You were?" You questioned him, not believing him, but he nodded quickly.

As a matter of fact, Bucky didn't have anywhere to go other than collapsing on his bed. But over his dead body were you going to walk back home alone in this hour

"Lead the way, princess." The return of the name, but a smile on your face. He may mean it as an insult. You didn't care. It sounded good coming from him.

And the two of you walked.

And somehow, without planning, it became a routine.

Bucky would finish at the gym and come straight to the restaurant. It didn't matter whether it was late or not. He would get in and wait till you were done with the day. Then he would walk you home. Sometimes, he would help with stuff, but most times, you would make him sit down and bring him tonnes of food you prepared just for him.

"You train so hard. Don't want to burn these muscles. Eat and rest."

You weren't stupid. You knew he had nothing to do with where you were living. Yet he still chose to go out of his way, walk you home, and wait until you got in. He was taking care of you. So you wanted to take care of him too.

It felt strange to Bucky. Nobody made sure if he was eating well enough, drinking enough water, and resting enough. Nobody ever did. Everybody treated him like he was a machine. Like he He needed nothing.

Then there you were. Feeding him with delicious food. Letting him relax. Laughing at his jokes. Your hands grazing softly. It was all foreign to him, but very welcome. And he was getting attached. He knew it. How could he not?

He had the sweetest and most loving person on the planet, showing him attention and care.

Bucky counted the minutes until he could be with you. Until he could walk you home, it would be just the two of you. You did most of the talking, telling him about your day or an interesting story you heard. He would tell you briefly about his day.

He loved listening to you. Every detail you shared with him. You were the first in his life to be carefree around him other than his family. You didn't let his stiff demeanour affect your friendly one.

The extra time he spent back to his place from yours didn't bother him in the slightest. He found it reassuring that he knew for sure you were safe at home. It was all worth it.

Every single one of Bucky's friends knew what was happening from the moment he asked to postpone a match to go somewhere with you when you're repairing the restaurant. And it became so clear when he stopped hanging out at Natasha's bar after matches, claiming he was tired. But, in truth, he only wanted to be with you. And the days he knew he couldn't turn it down, especially after a grand victory, he would be glued to his phone until you texted him that you were home. Then he may start celebrating.

Bucky almost punched Steve in the face when he brought up inviting you to one of the matches, or at least to hang out with the whole team at Natasha's bar. Bucky wanted you nowhere near this world. He couldn't imagine you watching him while he was fighting. You would never look at him again. Yes, you were kind, but in the ring, he was a beast. You didn't deserve to see how bad he could be.

That's why he never acted on his feelings for you. He knew he was falling for you. He knew from the start. But you deserved better. So much better.

Your radiant nature had no place near him.

He even tried to stop seeing you, feeling guilty for ever getting close to you. But he failed miserably. You gave him something nobody did. A light in the darkness.

So he bottled it and felt grateful that you even let him be your friend. Or whatever you were.

Before a fact came crushing. You were single.

The days following matches were usually very slow. So he left earlier than usual just to come and wait for you. As long as you wanted. He had a bandage on his forehead and a compression bandage around his hand.

Sometimes you forget what his job was. Until he shows up bruised and bandaged like this. You knew he was strong enough to handle himself. He was the best in the game. But you couldn't help the twinge of your heart at the thought of him hurt.

So you prepared extra food and drinks for him. Once it was evening, you kept your best table for him. You even brought the air freshener with the scent; he commented once that he liked it. Everything to help him relax.

You kept telling yourself you were only doing this because he liked to help everyone. But you knew it was very different. He was very different.

So when he stepped in, your big smile got bigger.

You tried to come and talk with him whenever you could, but it was a busy day. He had no problem. He enjoyed watching you work. You were so dedicated and smart. He wanted you to be the most successful chef and owner in the world.

But maybe he shouldn't have been watching. He should have paid attention to anything else. So he wouldn't have seen the man who had been flirting with you since he walked in.

It was taking everything in Bucky to not get up and throw the guy away. But he heard it. Your answer to his question "Yes, I'm single." And he was reminded of the cruelty of the world. You weren't his. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have been biting the inside of his mouth when the guy tried to touch your hand as you handed him his bill.

And he most definitely shouldn't be feeling like crying and burning down the world when the guy asked you out and left his number.

Wasn't that what he wanted? For you to have better than him. To have someone who wasn't surrounded by blood and pain. Someone who wouldn't defile your glimmer That guy looked decent enough. Maybe that was your chance to find love.

However, he wanted to tear that paper to pieces. He wanted to punch the guy for asking his girl. But you weren't his girl.

Bucky was conflicted by his emotions. He didn't know what to feel or how to think. So he did the thing he was the best at. He stayed silent.

You noticed right away the change in his mood. He wasn't the most talkative person, but this silence was different. He looked like he was somewhere else. Somewhere, that wasn't so nice.

"Are you sure that you are fine?" You asked as you came to a stop in front of your building.

You only got a nod as an answer.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm always going to be here."

Your words finally made him look at you after you left the restaurant.

"You are?" His hesitant tone made you frown.

"Of course." You answered very quickly.

"Are you going to go out with this guy?" It was quiet; you almost missed it, but you didn't.

Bucky didn't know what happened. He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't. It fell from him.

"Do you want me to?" Your reply was something he didn't expect at all.

You couldn't say you weren't disappointed when Bucky did nothing when the guy started flirting with you. You didn't know what you wanted him to do. But you wanted him to do something.

Instinctively, Bucky moved closer to you, standing right in front of you.

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me why I shouldn't go out with him."

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. You were so close to each other. His blue eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were filled with something so warm that you couldn't quite figure it out.

Bucky didn't know how to answer your question. Why didn't he want you to go out with the guy? Well, he didn't want you to go out with any guy. So he threw caution to the wind and followed his heart.

You almost tripped, but his hands on your waist steadied you. The feeling of his lips on yours was something out of the world. His lips were a bit bruised, but they were soft. It was all so good that your mind stopped working.

Bucky was about to pull away and apologise profoundly when you didn't kiss him back. As he was about to move, your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

The kiss was gentle, and it was filled with emotions. Loving ones. It sent electricity through your bodies. It spread warmth all over you.

Your need for oxygen made you break the kiss, hands still around each other, eyes only looking at each other.

"I thought you hated me."

"Never did. Not for a second, princess."

Bucky's lips smashed against yours once again. And it was like every piece was falling into its place. The puzzle was completed. The rainbow after the rain

You were the shining star in Bucky's dark sky. He may not deserve you, but he was going to do everything in his power to get you to shine more.

Because you were made for each other.

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

Text

𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝗞𝗶𝗱𝘀 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ⪼ 𝗛𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗖𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘆

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2022

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

A flight home with his partner in order for you to meet his family was supposed to be relaxing but so far the plane journey had everything but. Ten hours on a flight and you had spent the last two getting on his last nerve about trying to get some sleep. It wasn't as though there was a massive time difference but you'd hoped if he got some sleep now while you were on the flight it would make him feel good about everything. That and you knew your boyfriend's sleeping patterns weren't exactly something he was known for.

"All I'm saying is, this is a ten-hour flight, at least get some sleep and you can work later." You told him when you noticed Chan's hands working away on the laptop in front of him, instead of getting some sleep. There were plenty of hours for him to do this but he insisted on working. This was supposed to be something that was relaxing for him but all of your naggings were starting to get on his last nerve and he ripped his headphones from his ears

"I'm just saying if you sleep now you can work later-"

"I don't need a fucking babysitter." He snapped, suddenly the people in front of you turned around to look in your direction and your entire body heated up. The thought of Chan snapping at you like this made your entire body feel numb, he'd never snapped at you so much before much less in front of people.

"I never should have asked you to come, god, you're being so fucking clingy and annoying." The words hit you like a freight train and you stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds not knowing what to say or even do in response to that so you just nodded. Slowly putting up the privacy screen when Chan put on his earphones and went back to work on his laptop. It was going to be a long 8 hours of not speaking to one another and you hated the fact that you could hear murmurs from other people around you. Biting down on your lip you rolled over on your seat, leaning it back as you tried to at least get some sleep before you landed.

[X]

After the plane landed and you'd collected everything from baggage claim you'd silently made your way to the taxi bay and to the hotel. Since his parents were more than likely asleep right now you were both just going to wait in the hotel room until later on in the morning. It was barely 4 am and Chan didn't exactly want to wake his family up so early.

"Hey we got a balcony, that's pretty cool," Chan said as he broke the almost deafening silence that was between you but you just headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you did your best not to cry. You'd cried so much on the plane that one of the stewards had asked if you needed to go and sit somewhere else but you stayed where you were at the time. All you wanted to do was get away from Chan for a few hours, just to let yourself calm down since he clearly wasn't going to apologise for what he had said earlier.

"Babe?" Chan called out when you emerged once again, changed into different clothes and headed for the exit of the room, you were going to go for a walk and clear your mind.

"Hey...Babe!" He called out before he grasped your wrist in his hand and stopped you from leaving. You stared down at his hand holding onto you but you didn't dare move,

"Where are you going?" His thumb smoothed across your skin and as much as you loved that you couldn't stand that he was doing it right now. Did he not remember what he'd said on the plane?

"Out." You grumbled trying to pull your hand free but he wasn't going to let you go that easy. It wasn't as though you knew your way around and not much was going to be open so he was confused.

"Out where?" He frowned at you,

"I don't know. Just out." Your tone was sharp and he knew that there was something wrong with you so he wasn't going to let you just walk away from him when you were in this mood.

"Wait and I'll come with you." He said as he pointed to his laptop, all he needed to do was save the project he was working on,

"No. Don't. I know how important your work is to you, I'm going to go for a walk and be clingy and annoying somewhere else." You snapped before you got your wrist out of his hand and headed out of the door and into the hallway but not before Chan chased after you.

"Look. I'm sorry," He told you as you stopped just outside the elevator together, you stared at him as you waited for him to continue with what he was saying.

"I didn't mean it," That was the oldest excuse in the book.

"If you didn't mean it you wouldn't have said it in the first place," You grumbled, hitting the button repeatedly in hopes it would somehow speed the elevator up.

"Come back to the room, let me show you how sorry I am?" You stared at him and looked at the doors that opened, you debated jumping inside but you were also exhausted from the plane.

"Chan-"

"Please. I don't want us to start our trip this way. I-I was just stressed and I know it's a terrible excuse but I was and I'm going to spend every second making it up to you." You stared back at him as the doors to the elevator slowly shut,

"Start by getting us breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." You whined a little as you both headed back to your room to order something from room service.

MINHO:

With comeback season right around the corner, the boys were getting busier and busier with each passing day which meant they were starting to neglect their self-care more. You figured that you could make yourself useful by being the one to bring them lunch every day, you knew when they would take their lunch break and you knew what each of them liked to eat. All of them were pretty happy with your effort to bring them a home-cooked meal, even if they had a canteen it was a sweet gesture from you.

"Thank you," Jeongin chuckled as you handed him the small box with his favourite meal stuffed inside, freshly cooked and all ready for him to eat with a giant grin on his face. Chan and Felix were switching food with one another once they got halfway done and the others were complimenting you on the food.

"Anytime, I thought you guys would want something to eat after Minho works you so hard," You softly teased but Minho didn't look impressed, he was just staring at you while all of the boys sat on the floor and ate their meal. They were behind on their training and he wasn't impressed that you had just dropped by completely unannounced and distracted them from the work that they were supposed to be doing.

"Can I speak to you outside?" He questioned, not giving you a chance to answer as he headed out of the door and waited for you to follow after him. You walked out and quietly shut the door behind you, bowing a little to the staff members that were walking by,

"Did you not like what I made? I thought it was your favourite," You pouted a little but Minho folded his arms over his chest and stared at you, his expression unreadable.

"Can you please just go away? I don't know what it is but just lately you're being clingy." The word was like a knife to your gut and you stared at him. Clingy? He knew that your love language was acts of service and that you loved being able to look after other people that you cared for.

"I was just bringing you guys food, I figured you would want something to eat." You tried to justify it but in Minho's eyes, you were wrong for it, especially when there was plenty of food in the canteen that they could have been eating instead of wasting their time.

"With have a canteen with plenty of food, you're just looking for an excuse to come and see me just to give us all food and it's irritating." He murmured without seeing how much it was hurting you to hear these words falling from his lips. The man you loved had just called you clingy and that your love language was irritating him.

"We don't need someone to look after us, just go home." He mumbled before shutting the door to the dance studio, so that was exactly what you did. You went home.

[X]

"Yn! I know you're in there!" Minho called out as he banged on your apartment door again. All week long you had been giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring him and he finally had enough of it. Not only were you ignoring him but the boys had been complaining about missing your food breaks and if he was being honest with himself, Minho missed them too. He didn't know what he had until it was gone.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice came from behind him and he spans around to see you struggling to carry grocery bags in your hand.

"I came to see you, why have you been ignoring me?" He questioned, struggling to keep the bags up but he was doing his best not to show you his struggles.

"Maybe because you called me clingy and irritating?" You grumbled, ignoring him as he took the bags from your hands, you unlocked the door and were about to take the bags back from him when he made his way into your apartment.

"Come on in." You grumbled sarcastically, kicking the door shut before taking the bags from him and going to put everything you had bought away.

"The boys miss you and your food." You should have known better than to think Minho was going to apologise for something.

"They have food in the canteen." You grumbled coldly, putting all of the fresh vegetables into the sink to wash up, you began to run the tap when you felt Minho stand behind you.

"I miss you," He whispered as your entire body tensed up, his arms slowly snaked around your waist as he pulled you back into him.

"M-Minho...You called-"

"I know and I didn't mean it. We've been behind and I just snapped at the first thing I could, it was wrong and I am so sorry...Just, please...Please don't ignore me," You heard him sniffle, followed by a tear hitting your shoulder causing you to spin around and face him, it wasn't often that he cried and you knew that if he was allowing himself to be this vulnerable in front of him, he was clearly upset with something he'd done.

"It's okay," You whispered, slowly running your thumbs under his eyes as you tried to get the tears away,

"J-Just wash up the veg okay...You can stay here tonight and we can cuddle all night," You suggested as he sniffled again, simply nodding his head before he kissed you.

CHANGBIN:

Ever since Changbin hadn't gotten hurt on stage you had been looking after him, trying to make sure that he had everything he could possibly need and helping him around the dorms. You'd practically moved in while his leg was broken since you wanted him to have everything he needed from you.

"Can you just leave it?" Changbin asked when he noticed you cleaning up around the dorms. It wasn't as though the boys were messy a lot but since it was close to comeback season they'd been getting a little slack on everything.

"Once it's done, it's done and I can help you in the bath," You said with a bright smile on your face, walking over to him and kissing the top of his head.

"I get this thing off in a week and it'll be the happiest damn day of my life," He grumbled harshly as you rolled your eyes at him. He'd been getting irritable lately with not being able to do things for himself even though you'd reassured him plenty of times that it was fine for him to just sit back for a little while.

"I thought you enjoyed spending some quality time with me," You teased, bending down to pick up some of the clothes that were on the floor while stuffing them into the basket.

"When you're not being so god-damn clingy. I don't need help with everything," He mumbled, thinking that you wouldn't be able to hear him but you did and you almost dropped the basket that you were carrying around. You didn't want him to know you'd heard him so you played it off, heading over to the counter and stuffing everything into the machine. You knew how much stress he was under because of his leg and you didn't want to make it into a bigger deal than it was. You knew he was just lashing out but still, it didn't need to be at you.

"What are you doing?" Changbin called out when he heard you grabbing your keys and heading to the door.

"Forgot something," You mumbled dryly, opening and slamming the door behind you before Changbin even had a chance to protest about you leaving him behind and he just stared at the door in silence.

[X]

The door to the dorms pushed open and you stared down at Changbin who was struggling to lift himself up onto the sofa, letting out small grunts as he tried not to slip on his cast.

"Hyung...Why are you on the floor?" Hyunjin laughed as you two walked into the dorms together. It had been six hours since you'd left Changbin alone and you finally came back with Hyunjin after you'd cooled down a little. Deciding to go back to the dorms to see if your boyfriend had chilled out a little yet.

"Because YN left me here alone." He mumbled while staring over at you, his bottom lip poking out a little as you sighed. You carefully made your way over to him with Hyunjin and stood on either side of his body.

"You called me clingy. I figured you didn't need any more help from me." Changbin's cheeks flamed when he heard what you said, he hadn't meant for you to hear him but it didn't make what he said any better.

"You heard?" He asked, sounding completely sympathetic as you nodded your head,

"Oh yeah," You giggled bending over and helping him back into the wheelchair he'd been given while his leg was broken, he grunted softly as you got him seated again.

"I'm sorry," He said quickly as he took your hand into his and gave it a small squeeze. It wasn't something you were just to get over quickly but it wasn't something you were going to get completely hung up over when you knew he was upset with himself.

"I know...I know you're stressed with your whole leg but don't take it out on more or next time I'll leave you on the floor," You joked before he lent forward and pushed his lips against yours.

HYUNJIN:

For weeks now, Hyunjin had been hurled up inside of his home studio trying to work on something but it seemed as though he was having a major creativity block himself and couldn’t bring himself to work on anything.

“Hey, I bought you-” You froze as you walked into the room, knocking over the pot of oil paint that was right by the door and spilling it all over the blank canvas that Hyunjin was sitting in front of.

“S-Shit…Hyunjin,” You whispered trying to say sorry but was staring at you, his face turning red as he slowly got up and began cleaning everything up,

“You’re so fucking annoying! I told you to leave me alone because I’m trying to work on something but you just have to be so clingy!” Hyunjin snapped at you angrily as you stared down at the spilt paint, at least it hadn’t gone onto anything he’d been working on for hours, at least it was on a blank canvas.

“I didn’t know the paint was right behind the door,” You defended yourself, you weren’t going to let him blame you for this when he was the one leaving paint out all over the place.

“You should have just left me alone as I told you to do!” He yelled, refusing to look at you so you walked out of the door, slamming it hard behind you as you headed home where you would be more appreciated.

[x]

You gave Hyunjin exactly what he wanted, you left him alone for two weeks. Two whole weeks and he’d been constantly texting you and calling you trying to get you to talk to him but you weren’t having any of it. Not once had he said sorry for calling you clingy and you weren’t going to get over something that quickly without an apology from him.

“So your phone still works then?” He questioned when he noticed you inside of a cafe, he’d tried ringing you only to watch you send it straight to voicemail.

“I decided to give you what you wanted, now am I not clingy?” You asked bitterly before he took a seat in front of you and let out a sigh, he never meant for it to come out the way that he did. With everything going on, he just snapped at the closest thing to him and it happened to be you at the time.

“I was just annoyed,”

“Everyone gets annoyed Hyunjin but they don’t go around calling their partners clingy.” You told him while sipping on your drink. This might be something he was going to forget and move on from but not you. It killed you inside to know that your boyfriend thought of you that way and you weren’t going to forgive him so easily for it either.

“I’m sorry…I really am, I don’t know how I’m going to prove it to you, but I’m going to spend every day trying until you forgive me.” He placed his hand on top of yours and you smiled weakly, you liked the fact that he was willing to try and make this better was warming to you.

“Did you manage to get anything done?” You asked while moving your chair closer to his and leaning your head on his shoulder,

“We did,”

“We?” You asked while laughing, he nodded pulling out his phone and showing the canvas you had spilt the oil paint onto that was now transformed into yet another masterpiece by your wonderful boyfriend.

JISUNG:

Ever since he had called you clingy last night you’d been giving him the silent treatment and all of the boys knew it.

“Are you going to answer me?” Jisung asked as he pouted out his bottom lip and followed you into the kitchen. Maybe he’d completely forgotten what he’d said to you but you weren’t ever going to forget it. He’d been sitting with Chan when you’d asked nicely if they wanted anything to eat or drink, only to have your boyfriend turn around and call you annoyingly clingy when he didn’t think you were listening.

“I think she’s giving you the silent treatment,” Felix told him since it was obvious Jisung wasn’t completely understanding why you were suddenly not talking to him anymore and going about your business as though he wasn’t there.

“Why?” Jisung asked sounding totally perplexed as to why you were ignoring him and you let out a loud laugh and a scoff at him,

“Calling me clingy last night?”

“Oh, you heard that?” You rolled your eyes at him as if that was the first thing he would say about it instead of saying sorry for something that had caused you to hurt so much. You’d stayed up for most of the night debating on walking home because you were worried that you truly made him hate you for something you did. You didn’t mean to come across as clingy, it was just your way of showing affection to him.

“I was trying to do something nice for you and you called me annoying and clingy in one sentence and all you have to say is “oh”?” You questioned not caring how harsh you seemed to be grilling him over it,

“I didn’t mean it, I-” He let out a small sigh as he made his way over to him,

“I was busy and stressed…Y-You and I both know how much I love when you’re like that with me…I-I love it when you care for me like that,” He admitted shyly, blushing when he heard the boys beginning to tease him and call him a simp for you but he didn’t care. It was the truth, he adored it when you would pamper him and constantly bring him drinks and food to show him how much you loved him.

“Well, now it’s your turn…I-I don’t quite forgive you just yet,” You whined before he nodded and kissed you all over your face, promising you that he was going to make it all up to you.

FELIX:

Since moving to Seoul you didn't really have many of your own friends and it was hard to meet people when you couldn't tell them about your personal life. You'd tried to meet up with different groups but you'd never really seemed to click with anyone except the boys and you figured that they liked you too.

"Yn? What are you doing here?" Felix asked when he walked into the dorms to see you playing on the switch with Jeongin and Seungmin, all three of you yelling at one another as you crashed on Mario Kart.

"Playing Mario Kart, I got all of the new maps and wanted someone to play with," You told him before falling off the edge of the map and grumbling something under your breath about Seungmin using a red shell on you.

"I thought we agreed that you'd take some time away to go and make some friends," Felix said slowly, trying to be as nice about this as humanly possible. The last thing he ever would want to do was hurt you, he was just tired of you constantly hanging around him and the boys all of the time when they were his friends and not yours.

"I tried that group this morning but it's kind of hard when I can't tell people about my life...or at least all of it," You told him when the match ended, you finally looked at him and you could already sense that he wasn't exactly thrilled with you being in his space.

"Are you even trying hard enough? Why do you have to constantly adhere to me and the boys all of the time? Do you have any idea how clingy it makes you?" The room fell into silence and Jeongin stared back at his hyung completely stunned that Felix would say something like that to you.

"Hyung...That was a little mean, they're not clingy." Jeongin defended quickly,

"We like having Yn around!" Seungmin added while you shook your head and slowly got up,

"He's right...I-I should leave you guys alone, you're busy and me hanging around is only going to distract you," Your voice was barely coming out above a whisper, you were so worried if you spoke any louder, that you were going to start crying.

"Babe..." Felix trailed off as he walked with you toward the front door of the dorm,

"I didn't mean clingy like that," He told you while the other members looked anywhere except at the two of you, trying to pretend as though they didn’t hear what the two of you were speaking to one another about.

"There's no other way to mean it Lixie," You whispered but he took your hand in his,

“I just want you to have your own friends…For when I’m not here and on tour, you’ll need someone to hang out with,” You knew he was right but it still hurt you deep inside that he had called you clingy.

“I just need some space, okay? I’ll call you later,” You pressed your lips to his cheek to let him know that things between you were okay, you just wanted to have a little time to yourself to think over what he had said to you.

[X]

“Because of you, Yn is no longer our best friend!” Jeongin called out as you cuddled into Felix’s chest later on in the week. It turned out that after you’d left the dorms you’d run into someone in the coffee shop next door and struck up a conversation with one another when you’d noticed her looking a little lost. It also just so happened that she was Changbin’s girlfriend and she’d been wanting to move her stuff into the dorms since his leg was broken and she was going to be caring for him for a while.

“I’m still your best friend, I just happen to be theirs too,” You laughed softly while shaking your head at the youngest member, Felix chuckled deeply and kissed the top of your head.

SEUNGMIN:

It wasn’t that Seungmin was annoyed with you around him all of the time but lately it was just starting to all get a little too much for him. Everywhere he turned you were there and it seemed as though he couldn’t get away from you. If the two of you weren’t at home together then you were at the studio hanging out with Felix and Chan since you were quite close with the two of them. Even tonight, you weren’t scheduled to hang out with Seungmin and he was quite looking forward to going back to the dorms and having a chill night, only when he walked inside the dorms he found you in the kitchen with Felix. The two of you singing loudly and baking cookies together and Seungmin sighed, he just wanted one night where he could have a little peace. One night where he could be in his own quiet space.

“What are you doing here?” It came out a little harsher than he had intended but he didn’t say anything else after that, you glanced over at him.

“Lix invited me, we’re going to make cookies and then sit and watch the new “black phone” movie together, you wanna join?” You quizzed, not hearing the anoyance in Seungmin’s previous question.

“No. I want you to go home. Can’t you see you’re annoying us all?” Seungmin asked as you suddenly stopped stirring the batter you were mixing, Felix froze in place as he stared at the side of your head waiting for you to say something.

“They’re not annoying me,” Felix stated as he tried to make you feel a little less upset about all of this but you were stuck on what Seungmin had said.

“Yes, they are. They’re being so clingy lately and it’s not just to me now, it’s to you too.” You looked down at your hands as you walked toward the sink, deciding to wash off everything you could and head home for the night since you weren’t wanted here.

“Seungmin! Take it back, you know that if they weren’t here you’d be upset,” Felix told the younger member but you were already walking toward the exit, not wanting to stay there anymore.

[X]

You hadn’t expected Seungmin to say sorry for everything he had said that night but he did. Every day for the last week flowers had been arriving at your door, as well as your favourite meals and snacks all made by him and delivered by Felix or Chan on their way to work except for right now. Instead, seungmin stood at your door holding up a bouquet of chocolate roses while he smiled at you.

“Did you really think flowers and food were going to make me forgive you for what you said?” You questioned as you let him into your apartment, every surface was covered in flowers and food containers that would no longer fit inside of your fridge.

“No, but I was told to give you space and time before I came to see you.” He told you before he put the flowers down on your coffee table and looked back at you.

“N-Now, I’ve come to say sorry.” He walked toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist as you relaxed against his touch. As much as he had hurt you last week, you’d missed him and you could kind of see why he was so annoyed with you being around all of the time.

“I promise to give you more space, I know that you like to be alone.” You told him as you snuggled your head into his chest, just enjoying the feeling of being close to him after all this time.

JEONGIN:

“Jeongin and you going to meet his parents, that’s a big step,” Chan said as you sat down beside him on the sofa,

“What are you talking about? I’m not going with him.” You laughed weakly, Jeongin had told you that he had a family emergency next weekend and that he was going to be gone the whole time and probably not answer his phone.

“He’s got a family issue, so I’m going to be at my place that weekend.” You told Chan who clearly was confused thanks to the frown that was on his forehead, he shook his head. That wasn’t what Jeongin had told them, he’d told the boys that his mum was dying to meet you.

“Maybe you should ask him, 'cause that's not what he told us,” You slowly got up from the sofa and made your way over to Jeongin’s room, about to knock on the door when you heard him talking on the phone. It was rude to eavesdrop and you knew better than to do so but you’d already heard your name being mentioned,

“Mum, I already told you, I’m not bringing Yn. Because they’re always clingy and it’ll be nice to get away for one weekend.” Your heart was completely shattered as you heard what he was saying to his mother about you.

“I’m not being mean, I’m telling the truth. Sometimes you need a break from dad,” He told her before freezing when he heard the floorboard outside of his bedroom door creek but when he got up to investigate you were already gone and out of the dorms.

[X]

The weekend away from Jeongin had gone as quickly as it had come and he was doing everything he could to get in contact with you, even the boys had tried to get you to call him back but you were too hurt. If he’d been honest with you about it maybe it wouldn’t have hurt as much but to say it to his mother too? You felt as though you were a big letdown in the relationship department and not only that, but now his mother knew he found you clingy. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t going to like you anymore.

“Yn?” You glanced up when you heard your name being called by an unfamiliar voice and you froze when you saw Jeongin’s mother standing in front of you in the store. It was the first time you’d left your apartment this week because you were in desperate need of supplies and you just so happened to run into her.

“Mrs Yang, it’s lovely to meet you.” You said while bowing to her, she smiled and brought you into a tight hug.

“I hope what Jeongin said the other day didn’t hurt you too badly, I scolded him for it the whole weekend he was with us, the boy can be so rude sometimes. You know, he gets it from his father.” You let out a weak laugh as she began to walk with you beside your trolley, making her way over to Jeongin who was looking around for his mother,

“Look who I ran into, now...I’m going to make myself busy while you say sorry.” She told him before disappearing down another aisle, you stared at Jeongin who was already flushing a red colour.

“Yn.”

“I know,” You said before he could even tell you that he was sorry, you knew by the look on his face that he was.

“I never meant for it to hurt you. I was just- i needed some space and I didn’t know how to ask for it,” You smiled weakly and nudged his arm softly,

“Next time just be honest…I’d rather find out from you, than overhear it while you tell your mother,” You told him before he nodded and quickly kissed the top of your head. The two of you finished your shopping together while his mother walked around proud that you had made up.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @kimahnjung98 @halesandy @aerastus @lost-leopard-beanie @ethereallino @afternoonteabiscuit @dhyanavati @itmehc @rubberduckieyourtheone @heeseunger24 @laylasbunbunny @lovelychann

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gentlyweeps-world · 5 months

Text

Falling Out

summary: You noticed a change in Carlos- and it wasn’t for the best.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

warnings: angst 🥳

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

You and Carlos had a great relationship. Met through mutual friends, talked and talked until there wasn’t anything to talk about.

Went out on “platonic dates”, then of course eventually went out on actual dates. Then soon after he asked to be serious, and you said yes, how could you not?

So you’ve been together for two years, two great years. Until Carlos started acting weird, not talking as much, not being as affectionate, and really just not seeming to be there.

“Carlos..?” You groggily ask out, hearing the door to your shared apartment open. You get up from the couch you were napping on, a movie long forgotten on the TV.

“Hey Y/n…sorry I’m home late” Carlos mumbles out, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek and brushing past you to get into your room.

You feel a deep, sharp pangs of sadness and anger when you hear it in his voice. This isn't the same Carlos you were just a few hours ago. This wasn't the person you fell in love and chose to be with. He was acting distant, cold and uncaring.

"Why are you home so late?" You ask after taking a long breath to calm yourself down.

“Oh- erm, I lost track of time while I was training…” He says, slipping off his clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and loose shirt, quickly getting into bed.

"Right...so you were too busy to text to say that you would be home late?" You keep your tone flat, not wanting to give too much away. You know you need to talk with Carlos to figure out what is going on but you want him to be the one to make the first move.

You move to get into bed next to him, “I didn’t think I needed to, it didn’t seem that important, and you’re used to it anyway..” He grumbles out, turning to lay on his side, back facing you.

“Right, yeah of course..” You mumble out, not wanting to fight him on the topic, you were both too tired anyway.

You reach out an arm to lay it across him, hoping that he’ll maybe return your touch.

Carlos doesn’t initially respond, however, he slowly rolls onto his back and makes space for you to lay next to him. He doesn’t say anything, but he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer.

“Love you.” He mumbles in a low tone, sounding like he’s on the verge of falling asleep.“Love you too..” You mumble out, slowly falling asleep too, moving a bit closer into him.

As you fall asleep, Carlos pulls you close, wrapping both his arms around you and laying his head on top of yours. He mumbles a quiet “Sorry” before quickly falling asleep as well.

You wake up to hushed whispers next to you, “I don’t know how to tell her Lando..” You hear Carlos whisper into his phone, “How do you tell someone you used to love you don’t want to be with them anymore?” He adds on, letting out a sigh.

You stay frozen in your spot, not opening your eyes or even moving in the slightest. Your heart drops at his words, a feeling of numbness washing through your body.

He was falling out of love for you- that was it. That explains the distance, and hesitation. That’s why he stopped.

“I’ll call you later, I’m pretty sure she’s waking up..” Carlos whispers before hanging up the phone, you can feel him shift in bed, leaning over to press a kiss to your head.

“Good morning amor, you better wake up, I’ll make you something to eat..” Carlos whispers to you.

You mumble out a morning, not really wanting to get up, afraid you would end up falling.

Of course he would act like nothing was wrong.

You want to believe that it was just a bad nightmare but what would the odds be? He had sounded absolutely defeated and exhausted when he was talking to Lando, probably talking about his feelings.

“Don’t have to...” You whisper back, not wanting to get out from under the covers just yet. He was acting as if nothing had happened, you didn’t even want to think what he’d say if you brought the call up.

“Amor..you’ve been so good to me it’s the least I can do..” He whispers back, giving you a soft smile. His words- his kind words send a shiver of anger up your spine.

“Carlos I heard you on the phone..” You say a bit more loudly now, leaning up in bed.

You were now both sitting up, Carlos looked at you, his eyebrow raised, unsure of where this was going. He opens his mouth to speak but just says “What?”

“Don’t act like that wasn’t you I just heard.” Your tone was sharp as you stare into his eyes, waiting for him to say something.

He lets out a deep breath, “Tell me how I’m supposed to move on when you’ve always been so supportive and caring to me, how im supposed to move on when I know I’ve hurt you so many times while you’ve taken care of me..I’ve deserved none of your kindness, how am I supposed to move on when you’ve done everything right?”

His words leave you speechless, but you can feel your heart sink, that familiar numbness coming back.

“Carlos…” You whisper out, your eyes starting to get watery. You want to argue with him, fight him even, but what good would it do? It’s clear he’s made up his mind, that he’s ready to let go.

You don’t try to fight him, instead you look down, away from him. The silence seems to last an eternity but in reality it was only a few seconds. “You’re not going to say anything?” Carlos asks softly.

“What is there to say?” You whisper out, tears starting to fall down your face.

Carlos stays silent for several seconds before he slowly pulls you into his arms, giving you a tight hug, even burying his face into your neck. He whispers out “Sorry” over and over again despite not knowing what exactly he is sorry for.

You slowly wrap your arms around him, knowing it would probably be the last time you’d be able too. “I really wish you gave me a reason to hate you- to make this easier” You hear Carlos whisper out.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, “You’re too good to me…” He adds on, continuing to hold you.

He lets out a deep sigh before continuing. “I didn’t know how to bring it up to you.. but I think it just slowly happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way back.”

“Yeah I’m sorry too..”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: I keep on writing angst I can’t stop. Once again send in any request or suggestions, I’ll probably get to work on another sarge fic 🤍

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taexual · 8 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,” Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fafiction #jungkook rockstar au #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts au #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts rockstar au

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lumosinlove · 4 months

Text

Vaincre

June part iii

But if you try sometime you’ll find

You get what you need

Leo turned his face up to the sun. It was quiet, save for the waves lapping at the boat’s edge and the rocks of his cove. And it was his cove. It had always been his cove, ever since he’d been allowed to take the boat out on his own. It was nearing evening but it was still warm and the sun still reached its soft fingers out across the water to touch his face.

All his thoughts were drowned out by the tree frogs, with their monotone song, and the wind in the trees. He looked at the fishing rods over the side. He’d caught nothing, but it was mostly a meditation anyway, or at least a form of one. Setting everything up, and then settling into the idea of a couple hours alone on the water. Cool, sweet iced tea and his Mama’s ham and mustard sandwiches.

He should go. It would be dark soon, and no one wanted to be near the rocks in the dark. He pulled everything inside the boat—rods, anchor. The motor hummed to life with ease, and he took his time, not ready to leave the dimming sun, or the way the wind rippled his t-shirt across his damp back.

When he turned towards the marina, all he could see were the bright crystals of the reflecting water. As he got closer though, squinting, he saw that there was someone standing at the end of their private dock. A silhouette of the sunset. Someone with a tilt to their head, a set to their shoulders, that Leo would know anywhere.

One Week Earlier

Remus went to his knees when Madison Square Garden erupted around him. He went to his knees when Leo fell, glove still outstretched but empty. He went to his knees when Logan’s puck found the back of Leo’s net.

Remus completely missed the Rangers’ celebration, pinning Logan up against the glass. The puck was swooped neatly off the ice, away from Leo, and handed to the Rangers’ equipment manager to be taped, labeled as a game seven game-winner, and readied for Logan to take home as a keepsake. Logan went off the ice. Thank God Logan went off. He had been for over two different shifts and he knew them. He knew them so well. Remus watched him put his head down against the boards when he made it back to the Rangers’ bench. His shoulders were rising and falling harshly. Luke thumped a hand on his back, eyes concerned behind his visor. Remus risked a glance at Leo and wished he hadn’t. His mask was down, his head was down.

This could be their nightmare.

Remus saw Sirius skate to the face-off circle. He registered James, right at Sirius’ side as usual but looking haunted. James looked up at the clock, which made Remus look up at the clock. Nothing but his blood rushed in his ears.

Nineteen seconds.

He tried to will the numbness out of his hands and feet. He drew a breath that felt sharp when the referee dropped the puck.

There was no scramble for it this time. Sirius swept it back to James, and James held it close. Remus felt himself call for it, tapping his blade on the ice. They didn’t have time to hesitate. James didn’t even look at him, drawing the Rangers’ defense away and over into his own lane before sending a clean, arrow-straight pass to Remus.

Remus caught it, and pushed hard. He didn’t think about anything but keeping the puck close and keeping his strides fast. His muscles burned, even inch of him held tight as Saint trained his body onto him, guessing what Remus might do next.

Six hundred options went through Remus’ head as the white ice blurred beneath him, and he went for, not his own favorite, but Sirius’. The shot that he’d adored as a PT. The one that made Sirius look like pure magic.

Remus let the puck drag, let his skate drag, slowing down the play and making Saint crouch. He knocked it to the other side of his blade, and lifted the puck as hard as he could.

Saint didn’t catch it. It rebounded against his blocker and Remus lunged forward—but Sirius was right there. He sent it hard, as hard as he could, right towards the empty sliver of space above Saint’s shoulder.

Remus was close enough to hear Saint’s shout. It sounded like outrage. His glove reached up, windmilling, and snatched the puck out of the air. He slammed it, captive, down on the ice, and the final horn went.

Remus fell to a knee. “No…”

He was close enough to hear Sirius’ shout, too, something past outrage, and watch as he slammed his stick low against the boards behind the Rangers’ net, snapping off the blade.

Game over.

Remus couldn’t hear the stadium for a long, long stretch of eerie quiet. He heard his own breathing. He heard his own, choked, desperate breathing.

Jules, he thought, and then it was all he could think. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Blue, red, and white gear fell around him as the Rangers threw their sticks and gloves in celebration. The roar filtered slowly back into Remus’ register, and then slammed into him like a wall of sound so hard that he had to close his eyes. The pummeling of hands on the glass sounded like thunder.

This was the hard part of perfection. So much of this year had been difficult. So much of it had been adjusting, then readjusting, climbing and struggling to get things right.

He’d started to believe he was owed this win. When had he started thinking like that?

Something tapped against his side and he looked up to find Pascal there. His face was stone, set and somber, and he jerked his chin towards something. Remus looked to see his teammates quickly filing into a line, waiting to shake hands with the still celebrating Rangers. A pile of blue on the ice, glimpses and flashes of laughter and grins and tears. He looked for Logan, but he couldn’t pick him out. Sirius was there, at the line’s front, waiting with his eyes averted from the celebrating New York.

Pascal helped Remus to his feet, said something that Remus couldn’t hear, and they skated towards the line together.

Logan’s hand found Sirius’ and about four different camera flashes went off at once.

“Sirius,” Logan said. “I…”

“I’m happy for you, Tremz,” Sirius said. He squeezed Logan’s hand then put his other one on Logan’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hard, quick hug. “Really.”

“Merci,” Logan said softly. “I’m sorry, you—look, you played so well. That shot—”

Sirius nodded and let go. Logan realized he didn’t want to hear it. “So did you.”

Remus was right behind him, pulling him into a shaky, one-armed hug.

“You deserve this,” Remus said. “Really, Tremz.”

“You’ll get one,” Logan said. And Remus looked away. Logan could hardly stand this. “I know you will.”

Remus smile was sad. “Yeah…Yeah.”

Logan wished he could spend ten minutes on each boy. Olli, Kris…

Kota held out his hand for Logan to shake. “Um. Good game.”

Logan hesitated for only a second before putting his hand into Kota’s. “You too…” He sighed. “Truce for the summer.”

Kota cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

Logan watched Kota pass by to shake Alex’s hand. Replacement. Logan didn’t think he’d ever look at Kota and not think of him that way. Even if they both ended up, somewhere down the line, on completely different teams with no Rangers or Lions even in the picture.

“What, no handshake for me?”

Logan looked back to see Pascal standing there. His helmet was off, brown and grey hair curling over his forehead. His smile was the realest one Logan had seen from the Lions.

“Dumo,” Logan said. It came out a little broken, and he more or less fell into his tight hug.

“I’m happy for you, mon fils. Don’t judge Leo on how he treats you just now,” Pascal said softly in his ear. “And don’t judge yourself.” He pulled back, hands on Logan’s shoulders. “D’accord?”

How? Logan wanted to ask. How how how?

Kuny stopped in front of him, jostling him with a hand on his head and a hard slap to his back. Logan wished he had something better to say. He wished he was better with words.

And there was Leo.

Hair darkened from sweat, cheeks red. He still had his glove tucked under his arm. Logan would relive that moment forever. Watching Leo fall to the ice, glove empty. Feeling himself shout in celebration, maybe out of muscle memory, only for what had just happened to crash into him nearly as hard as his teammates had. He’d been pushed away from Leo, from the blue paint. Like a photograph going out of focus, he had watched the blurred image of Leo pushing himself back up.

Logan came to a complete stop. He put a hand on Leo’s chest because he couldn’t help it. He touched the lion printed there. Even then, Leo didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Le,” Logan whispered. Leo put his hand over Logan’s, but that was about all. Leo’s hand was so slack, so cold, and his blue eyes flit once to meet Logan’s, but hardly for half a second. “Soleil…”

“Proud of you,” Leo said quietly. “I am, I…”

Logan opened his mouth to say something more, unsure what, but then Leo’s hand slipped out of his and he was left blinking hard and face-to-face with Thomas. That had happened too fast. Logan wanted to turn and grab Leo’s hand again, pull him into a hug.

But maybe Leo didn’t want that. Maybe, for the first time since they’d met, Leo didn’t want anything to do with him.

Thomas had seen, and pulled him into a short hug. “You’ll both be okay.” He pulled away and put a hand over Logan’s heart, tapping once. “Love you, man. It was a good series.”

“It was,” Logan said softly. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Thomas tapped his chest again, more firmly, like he was pressing something into Logan. “You’ll be okay.”

Champagne sprayed against his cheeks and got his hair sticky once they entered the locker room. The alcohol was sweet on his tongue, salty from his sweat. He smiled when he saw the cameras, it would look strange if he didn’t. He took a beer when it was offered to him.

It all happened to him, but he felt like he was hovering just outside of the room, looking through glass.

He found his stall and pulled his jersey over his head. He yanked off his pads and unstuck his undershirt, drenched in sweat, from his skin. God. He didn’t want beer or champagne. He wanted to go home. He pulled a sweatshirt over his head to keep his muscles warm.

Someone hugged him from behind. “Hey.”

Luke appeared, grinning. He jostled Logan by his shoulders. Luke’s hair was sticking up in different directions from his helmet and the champagne. His mouth looked, well, thoroughly kissed, and Logan glanced at Saint, who had a smirk on his face as he gave an interview for one TV network or another.

“Game winning goal, Tremz,” Luke said. “Means you get to pick where we celebrate first tonight. We got three days off, we’re going hard.”

Alex put an arm around Logan’s shoulders and Logan looked up at him. He hoped Alex, like Finn, could read his face without him having to say anything. Alex sent him a sympathetic smile and squeezed tighter.

“It is true,” Alex said. “You get to choose. You should choose. I know this is not how you pictured it, but you still deserve this.”

“We didn’t win yet,” Logan said. “You remember that, right?”

Luke sent him an unimpressed look. “When you pull through a seven game series, you get to have a couple drinks with your friends at a nice bar.”

Logan would have usually jumped at that chance to celebrate, at letting loose for a day or two before they were back and battling—well, whoever else was moving on. Everyone would be keeping an eye on the Lightning and Panthers game set for tomorrow. Logan wanted nothing more than to only be thinking about going to a rooftop bar and staying up until the sun rose.

But it wasn’t so simple. In his head, Leo was holding a champagne bottle to his lips and Finn was boxing him in against the rooftop wall with the rising sun against his face.

Home.He wanted to go home. Luke read it on him as easily as Alex had.

“I know,” Luke said then grabbed his shoulders again. “I know, but come on. You have to celebrate with us. I know you didn’t want to be, but you’re part of this team. I’m…” He paused, blinking. He briefly touched the cut and bruise from the high stick under his eye, and then his mouth. He glanced behind him at Saint, then back to Logan. “I’m fucking happy you’re here, Tremz.”

Logan smiled, but there were still Leo’s sad eyes pressing at him. At that moment, Percy jumped on Luke’s back, momentarily pulling him away into a mess of foaming beers and cameras.

Alex leaned in. They were alone, at least for the moment. “If we’re going to be…us. Who we are…” It didn’t take Logan any time at all to decipher who us was, and what they were together. “Then we can’t let it affect our play. And that’s what you showed them out there tonight. That we can love and play. And I’m grateful. Leo will be, too, after a little time.”

“Alex,” Logan began to say, but then Luke’s laugh filtered back in as he pushed Percy away towards where a camera was trying to interview him. He turned back to Logan.

“So?” Luke asked. “Where to?”

Finn and Leo would no doubt tell him he should go, but all he wanted to hold Leo until he could erase the crestfallen look from his face.

“Please,” Luke said more gently. “I know this is…I know you’re probably feeling a lot of different things right now but we’re your friends.” He glanced at Alex, who nodded. “Let us help. Just a little while. I want you there.”

“Me too, Tremble,” Alex said.

Logan rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Non. Mais—merde. Just…Okay.” Alex let out a whoop. “Let me find them first, let me just…” He looked towards the locker room door and accidentally made eye-contact with a few reporters who were looking at him hungrily.

Alex released him. “You have ten minutes before I’m pushing you into the shower so we can get this night going.”

“Alex,” Logan said. “The reporters by the door.”

Alex didn’t have to be told twice. He turned his hat backwards, raised his hands up and walked to the center of the room. “I have some super important things to say! Very important. Over here!”

Logan and Luke shared a look, laughing as the reporters were drawn like moths towards light.

“Um,” Alex began once the recorders and iPhones were inches from his mouth. “Okay, wait, let me think what they were…”

Luke gave him a little push. “Go.”

Logan tapped Luke’s cheek. “Looks like you already went.”

Luke’s next push was a shove.

The hallway was empty. Everyone was in the locker room for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way once the celebrations ended and the players had to be left alone to get dressed. Logan glanced behind him one more time as he made his way down the hallway, away from the doors. Maybe Finn would be with Leo—God knew the Lions wouldn’t want him in their locker room right now. But maybe if he waited outside, a little ways away, he’d be able to catch Finn’s mom, or Leo’s, and tell them that he just wanted to say…what did he want to say? Maybe he didn’t have to say anything, not if they didn’t want him to. Maybe they didn’t even want to see him, but he needed to see them. Just a glimpse. He turned the corner—he’d be out of sight of any reporters now. He looked behind him one more time, just in case, and when he looked forward again he stopped hard.

Finn was there, leaning against the wall, alone. He pushed himself upright when he saw Logan.

“Hi,” Finn said in a rush. “Hi. Hi, I—wasn’t sure if you’d be—Or, I also didn’t think any reporters should see me waiting right outside because, I don’t know, we’re rivals right now and all but that’s a stupid reason, so I…But I wanted to see you? I was going to call but maybe you didn’t have your—”

“Harzy,” Logan breathed. He closed the space between them in two strides, so relieved that it knocked the breath out of him, and reached up to hug him hard.

Finn had been expecting it, waiting for it, and clutched him back with one hand. Logan crushed them together, hands locked behind Finn’s neck. He remembered the sling.

“Oh—” But he couldn’t seem to let go. Finn. This was what he’d wanted. This was home.

“You’re not hurting me,” Finn’s voice had turned rough. He squeezed Logan tighter. “You’re not hurting me, it’s okay.”

Logan just shook his head. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay.

Finn pressed his face into Logan’s neck, letting out a slow breath. “Just wanted to see you off the ice. It’s so different out there. You’re still wearing blue, though.”

“You love all those books where the enemies become lovers.” Logan’s voice was muffled by Finn’s shoulder.

Finn laughed softly. “I love that you know that.” He passed a hand through Logan’s damp hair. “You were never my enemy, though.”

“I was tonight.”

“No. You were an opponent tonight. That’s different.”

“Are you okay?” Logan pulled back to see his eyes. “Your head?”

“I feel okay,” Finn said, but he looked tired and strained. Logan put one of his cold hands to Finn’s forehead. It made Finn close his eyes briefly in relief. “Don’t worry about me.”

Logan had plenty to worry about. He saw Leo’s face again, eyes down, shying away from the cameras. “Is he okay?”

Finn just stroked careful fingers over a fresh bruise on Logan’s cheek.

“Does he still want—like, to see me?”

“God, Lo, of course he does. It’s not your fault.”

Yes it is. Yes, it is.

“I’m gonna take him home,” Finn said.

Logan’s heart jolted. “Home?”

“To your place, I mean.”

“Oh.” God, he’d thought Finn meant Gryffindor. He thought he would have to go to sleep alone tonight thinking about Leo. “Oh. Good.”

Finn smiled a little. “Home’s wherever we three are together.”

“I thought you meant you were leaving.”

“Not a chance.”

“You have your key?”

Finn nodded. He looked so tired. It was going to break Logan’s heart. “Yeah, we got it. Go celebrate, okay? Really, I’m not kidding. Have fun. It’s okay. It is. I love you so much, we both do, go celebrate and have fun. I want you to.”

Logan touched his face, the scruff there, the beginning of a try for a long play-off run—one that should have been longer than this. He leaned up and kissed the coarse stubble on his jaw, then then corner of his mouth, and then Finn turned into his kiss with a hand on his lower back.

“I love you,” Logan said.

Finn took his hand and kissed his knuckles, the fresh cuts from fighting Kota. “See you at home. Okay? Doesn’t matter how late it is, wake me up.”

“Tell Leo I love him.” Logan kissed him quick again, then tried to leave but had to kiss him once more before finally turning back the way he’d come.

Remus could tell that his mom had given Julian a bit of a lecture before he entered the locker room. Maybe on not seeming too disappointed when he saw Remus. But Remus, after he’d bent down, could feel it in the tight grip of Julian’s hug.

“Sorry, Jules,” Remus said into his shoulder. He looked down at the 6 on Julian’s jersey. “I…I wish I could have done it for you.”

Julian just held him tighter, and when he didn’t reply Remus realized he was crying.

“Oh,” Remus said, a little surprised. He rubbed Julian’s back gently. “Oh, Jules…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m—didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, this sucks, I know.”

Julian pulled back and Remus was relieved to see that the tears were soft, not truly upset. More overwhelmed. Still, the catches in his voice took Remus right back to Julian crawling into his bed. To a baby Julian. His baby, that’s how he felt sometimes. He reached up to wipe a thumb across Julian’s cheek and laughed when Julian swatted half-heartedly at his hand.

“I just really wanted it for you.” Julian huffed. “Like—I really want everything for you.”

Remus looked away briefly, at his parents, standing just behind them. Hope put her hand against her chest. Julian’s words made them smile at each other, despite it all.

“That means the most,” Remus said around a thick throat. “That means…the means more than anything else, thanks, bud.”

Julian fiddled with one of the straps of Remus’ shoulder pads. “At least we’ll get to hang out more now.”

“I mean, it’s not like you need to help me get married or anything.”

Julian laughed a little. “Oh jeez. I forgot.” He looked over to Sirius. “That was a really good almost goal, Sirius.”

Sirius’ smile didn’t come as easily as Remus’ but it was there. For Julian, it was real. “Thanks, Jules.”

“I wanted this for you, too,” Julian said.

“Ditto.”

They looked up to see Regulus there, in Sirius’ jersey still. His hair was buzzed short—Remus had been surprised when he’d first seen it, but it suited him. It made his jaw sharper, his grey eyes vivid under thick brows.

“Some luck charm you are,” Sirius said half-heartedly, but he rose from his stall.

Remus watched the two of them hug, watched the way Regulus, maybe without completely realizing it, tucked his chin into Sirius’ shoulder in just the same way Julian had.

“Bien?” Regulus asked softly.

“Non,” Remus heard Sirius say. “Mais ouais.”

No but yes. That sounded about right to Remus’ ears.

“Hi,” Remus sighed with a smile, pushing himself up to greet his parents.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Hope pulled him into a tight hug, and Remus felt his dad’s hand on the back of his head. “You were incredible, you know that.”

“Thanks,” Remus said hoarsely. He let himself lean a little harder into his mom’s arms.

It was a blur after that, mostly. Getting dressed. Getting back to their hotel. Saying goodnight and his mom promising to take them out to a late, late breakfast—even though Remus knew both Sirius and himself most likely weren’t going to be able to sleep that much. He was exhausted but adrenaline coursed through his veins, hot and alive.

In the room’s kitchenette, Remus listened to his family’s final footsteps out the door as he flicked the burner on for tea. He turned back to the glossy hotel kitchen island to find both Black brothers sitting there, looking at him.

Regulus cracked a small smile. “Just making sure neither one of you is going to go break into MSG and skate back the game or something crazy like that.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius said in French.

“Hey.” Remus took down two mugs. “Point taken.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows at the mugs. “Two? Is that you telling me to fuck off?”

“Yeah,” Remus said with a smile.

Regulus looked at his brother. “Re said it nicer.”

Sirius, who was slumped with his cheek in his palm, merely shrugged. Regulus’ smile faded as he looked at his brother. Sirius looked tired. Like he had been lifting something heavy and didn’t know how to hold himself without its weight.

Then, to Remus’ slight surprised, Regulus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ shoulders and pressed his forehead against Sirius’ temple.

“D’accord,” Regulus said softly. “Je t’aime.”

And then he was gone, the hotel door closing with Sirius left blinking after him.

Remus watched him go, too, feeling warmer than before.

“Sweet,” Remus said softly, and Sirius just looked down at his hands, rubbing over his dry knuckles.

When the water heated, Remus poured the tea—chamomile—and settled on the stool that Regulus had occupied. Sirius looked down at the mugs, then at Remus.

“I know, I know,” Remus sighed. “I don’t think it will actually make us sleep, but we can pretend.”

Sirius didn’t reply. He pressed his hands around the warm mug, staring down into the steam rising from the cup. Remus let him be quiet. He let them sit. They would talk when they both felt like they could.

“Re,” Sirius said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Une promenade? Avec moi.” Sirius asked.

“A walk?” Remus asked.

Sirius hummed his affirmative into a kiss to Remus’ temple. Remus closed his eyes when Sirius inhaled, breathing him in.

What else was there for Remus to do but nod?

Leo and Finn moved quietly around Logan’s apartment. Leo sat down on the couch, but didn’t know what to do once he got there. He watched Finn take off his sling—he’d taken to doing that recently. Finn went to the refrigerator and returned with two glasses of water, plus a bottle of gatorade for Leo.

“Comfy?” he asked, which was Finn’s way of asking if he wanted to put sweatpants on. When they had first started living together, it had also been Finn’s way of asking if Leo would rather stay in than go out. Comfy? he’d ask, and they would go and change—sweatshirt and sweatpants—and return to the living room together, smiling and each with their own book in hand.

How did I get so lucky? Leo would think, and then, a second later, How am I supposed to survive loving you?

Now, Leo accepted the gatorade and downed half the bottle in one go.

They walked into Logan’s closet, which had morphed into their shared closet lately. Leo thought of their rooms back in Gryffindor. When was the last time Leo had walked into his own, old, abandoned room? He couldn’t remember. He preferred Finn’s. Finn’s was his.

Leo pulled his suit jacket and pants off, pulled sweatpants on. He was starting on the first button of his shirt when Finn put a hand out.

Leo looked at those soft brown eyes. Finn was his.

“Thanks,” Leo said. His voice sounded odd, like he hadn’t spoken in ages. It wasn’t true. He’d been forced through interviews. God, he never wanted to see those recordings. He never wanted to see what his face had looked like, answering any of those questions. What happened? What’s next? And it was Tremblay who—

“T-shirt or?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, and let Finn push his shirt from his shoulders. Finn turned to their suitcases, messy on the floor, and reached for one of his own t-shirts. Harvard Men’s Ice Hockey it said. Soft and worn and faded gray and red. Leo’s favorite. Leo wanted to comment on the way Finn reached up to slip it over his head—it probably hurt his healing shoulder—but Finn didn’t flinch. He just kissed Leo’s cheek, let his mouth linger there for a moment, and then turned back to the suitcases.

Leo stood there, hands twisted into the t-shirt’s hem. Finn straightened back up, holding a shirt for himself. Some pressure cracked in Leo’s chest. It felt like tears, but they didn’t come.

“I’m gonna go home with my parents,” he said into the small space.

Finn froze. The muscles in his bare back tensed, the t-shirt he was holding bunching in his grip.

“For—” Leo’s voice broke. “For a little bit.”

Slowly, Finn turned around and Leo had to look away. He reached for socks, head down.

“It’s just been—like, a lot of things have been happening. I’m just—I’m gonna go home for a bit.”

“Le,” Finn breathed.

Leo closed his eyes and flipped the top of his suitcase closed. “I’m—I’m sorry? I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what he was doing when he turned out of the closet, leaving Finn there. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He sat back down on the couch, heart pounding. Finn didn’t follow him out right away. Maybe he was trying to give Leo a second. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he was upset. He’d lost too, tonight. Leo almost had to remind himself since Finn hadn’t been on the ice. But all of Finn’s season was just as over as his own.

He wondered where Logan was right now. A cool, summer-night roof top? A sticky-tabled bar? Someone’s apartment? Someone’s house just outside of the city?

He felt the couch dip beside him, caught Finn’s soft red hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Le?” Finn’s voice was so gentle that Leo had to look at him.

He had his glasses on now, but he took them off as he sat down and put them on the coffee table. Leo stared at them. He loved the way they looked, waiting for Finn to pick them back up again.

“Don’t be sorry,” Finn whispered. “That’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Leo kept his eyes on the glasses. “I…Yeah. I know.”

More silence. Finn reached out and rubbed a gentle thumb over Leo’s knee.

“I know that Lo’s sort of spoken for,” Finn began. "For who knows how long, but—would you…would you want me to come—”

Leo shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Not right now, but I love you.”

Finn sat up more and Leo watched his thumb on his knee. Bitten nails, sweet, brown-sugar freckles on the back of his hand. Leo never thought he was going to get to have him. It still hit him with a wave of happiness, even now.

The thumb paused. “You might find Lo in your suitcase anyway when you unzip it.”

“Play-offs.”

“I know.” Finn leaned forward and kissed his temple softly. Leo closed his eyes and a tear escaped without his permission. “I know, I was just joking.” A beat passed. The thumb, maybe the same one from his knee, passed over his cheek. “You might find me in your suitcase.”

“Finn.”

“Okay.” Finn kissed his temple again. “Okay…”

More silence. Leo didn’t know what to say when Finn was quiet.

“Well…Hey.” Finn paused. “Le, look at me.”

Leo did, and Finn’s eyes were all worried and calculating, trying to work out a way to make it better. Finn liked that, Leo had learned. He liked to snap his fingers and make it okay. It got hard for him when he couldn’t.

“Are you sure you…” Finn gave his head a small shake. “I just mean I’ll miss you. I thought…you know. We’d be cheering Logan on, of course, but even more we’d get to just hang out. We have so much time now.”

“Finn,” Leo said, pleading. “Don’t make me feel bad.”

“Oh, no, baby.” Finn sat forward more, palm warm on Leo’s thigh. “No, no, I just…I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just meant I’ll miss you. I’m not trying to, like, corner you, I…”

Leo put his hand over Finn’s and Finn groaned and dropped his forehead against Leo’s shoulder for a moment before looking at him again. “If I can’t make you feel better, what am I good for?”

Leo shook his head. “This isn’t on you, sweetheart. This is just something I want right now. I need the heat. And the water. And the streets I used to walk. And my mama’s kitchen and boat rides and—”

“But I could be there if you need—”

“I need hockey to not be right in front of me for a second,” Leo said firmly. “And it kills me to say it, but Logan’s in the thick of it and you’ll be in the thick of it with him. And I’m not saying forever, just a week or so, I…” Leo closed his eyes briefly. He took Finn’s hands in his own. “Baby. You’re not listening. I love you, but you’re not listening to me.”

Finn looked like he was going to protest again, but he kept his mouth closed. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod.

Leo hated this. He hated that look on Finn’s face.

“No one knows what I need like you do,” Leo said. “No one knows what I love, no one listens to me like you. No one. But right now, I need something else, we… We lost Logan for a second there.”

Finn’s eyes darted away. He nodded.

“And then the person who hurt me most in this world showed back up in my life,” Leo continued. “Then I had to watch you lay unconscious on the ice because of him, because of me, and I had to sit there not knowing what to do while Logan seemed to know exactly what to do. I’ve never felt like I had to fight through your guys’ history before. The biggest mentor in my life retired, and the play-offs are finished and it was with me in goal.” Leo cupped Finn’s cheek, smoothing a thumb over his freckles. “And I love you both so much. But I need to be in the home that came before my home with you.”

Finn was nodding, and nodding, like he was trying to convince himself that he understood. That it was okay. He rubbed his palms over his face for a moment, and when he looked up again it had made his cheeks red.

“Just…don’t leave tonight,” Finn said. “Please?”

“Tonight?” Leo shook his head, brushing Finn’s hair back from his face. “Honey, I was never gonna leave tonight.”

“Oh. Oh, good, okay.”

Leo leaned forward and kissed Finn once, then twice. “Can I…” He pushed himself up to put a knee on the couch between Finn’s, and Finn opened his arms. “Your sling?”

“I’m allowed to be without it for a bit,” Finn said, and pulled Leo in. “I’d rather feel you.”

The entire world felt quiet and still like that. Finn’s fingertips running up and down Leo’s spine like soft drips of water. They had been laying there for maybe a half hour when, in the quietest voice, so soft, so god damn soft that Leo almost didn’t hear him, Finn said, “You’ll come back.”

Leo hesitated, trying to figure out if he’d heard right, then looked up at him. “What?”

Finn’s arms tightened around him, but he looked away towards Logan’s dark balcony. “No, nothing.”

Leo wasn’t convinced. Finn hadn’t said it as a question exactly, and most of Leo knew that Finn would never have to ask that, but the fact that it had slipped out…

Finn let out a breath through his nose. “No, I—I know you will. I just…I didn’t expect…I’m not making you feel bad, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I know this is—”

“Finn…” God, Leo thought. Oh, Finn. So much of Logan’s old torment was in those words and Leo, in all honestly, was glad they had finally been said. “Yes. Yes.” He turned in his arms to hold him properly, to look at him. He nodded, keeping those brown eyes on him. “Yes, I’m coming back.”

“I’m not telling you to stay,” Finn said quickly. “I just meant that I’ll miss you while you’re away doing what you need to do. And I want you to do what feels right. I just meant—fuck, I mean—I just mean that I want you to…know that I will miss you. It’s not that I don’t understand…Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’m coming back,” Leo repeated. “We’re both always going to come back to you.”

Finn’s slow nod didn’t disturb their quiet or their still. It was like it had molded around them, keeping them safe from that cold crush that had happened on the ice. Leo still felt it. The tingling awareness of a puck hitting the back of his net.

“You too,” Finn whispered. “Lo and I love you a lot, Le. Nothing would be the same without you.”

Leo closed his eyes, letting the warmth of that rush over him. He let it erase everything else, just for now.

Finn pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his neck.

“Finn,” Leo whispered. “Finn, I want…”

It was a question-not-question of his own, and it was all he needed to say before Finn was nodding again, hand against Leo’s cheek.

“Me too.”

They moved back into the yellow light dim of Logan’s bedroom, unable to part. Leo didn’t have it in him to protest the fact that Finn still wasn’t wearing his sling. He wanted so badly to have nothing but Finn’s skin against his. A weak protest made it out of his mouth in the form of Finn’s name, but it had sounded like nothing but a wish for him to come closer. Finn just hushed him, and wrapped him up close, and Leo could have cried. It had been so long since Finn could hold him this tight, and maybe it hurt but Leo made sure to find his good shoulder to let his head rest heavy on as Finn kissed his neck. Finn’s warm hands spanned up and down his back and he pressed a kiss to the dip of his spine.

They moved back into the yellow light of Logan’s bedroom, unable to part. Leo didn’t have it in him to protest the fact that Finn still wasn’t wearing his sling. He wanted so badly to have nothing but Finn’s skin against his. A weak protest made it out of his mouth in the form of Finn’s name, but it sounded like nothing but a wish for him to come closer. Finn just hushed him and wrapped him up close. Leo could have cried. It had been so long since Finn could hold him this tight. Maybe it hurt but Leo made sure to find his good shoulder to let his head rest heavy on as Finn kissed his neck and whispered soft words to him. Finn’s warm hands spanned up and down his back and he pressed a kiss to the dip of his spine.

It was Louisiana heat, Finn’s touch. Leo was burning from the inside out, centering at his hips and radiating outward like sun warming up a room. Leo’s mouth was open and panting, sweat sheening over his chest. Finn’s breath was shaky, and Leo could picture the way he tilted his head back. His hands took Leo’s hips, guiding, and Leo settled back on his knees more, his back snug against Finn’s chest so Finn could wrap his arms tightly around Leo’s waist and tuck his nose against Leo’s neck as they moved together. Leo reached back to fist Finn’s hair and turned his head. Finn didn’t hesitate in kissing him, sound and slow.

Leo let the weight, at least for now, slip away.

#vaincre lumosinlove #wolfstar #coops #hockey au #sweater weather lumosinlove #finnlo #sunfish #lelo #Alex o'hara #sirius black #remus lupin #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara

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maxsimagination · 5 months

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𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘂𝗺 - 𝗸.𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆

warnings: a kiss or two

----

"hey kat, you seen harps?"

i knocked on katrina's hotel room door, but there was no response so i walked in. i was going to take harper down with me so katrina could get ready, but immediately stopped in my tracks when a saw the scene before me. harper was on the bed, katrina curled around her, both sound asleep.

my heart melted seeing my two favourite people together like that. as much as i wanted to let kat sleep longer, i knew i had to wake her up. coach wanted us down in a half hour for a team meeting about the game.

"kat, you gotta wake up now." i sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her arm, shaking her a bit. she came to after a few moments of me shaking her lightly. kat's groggy face turned to look at who was tearing her from her sleep. "hey sleeping beauty." i grinned down at her. "mm, i jus' need five more minutes."

"we have that meeting soon, you gotta get up, min." everyone in the team called her mini, or min, because of her short stature, but i was an exception. i called her kat, only on occasion did i switch it for mini.

"fuuuuckk." she drawled out. eventually she sat up slowly and got up. the small child next to her had shuffled around and woke up at the slight commotion near her. "hey harps." i ruffled her her a bit and she giggled at me. i picked her up and smoothed down her clothes before katrina walked out of the bathroom, her hair fixed and looking slightly less tired.

"let's head down, yea?"

i only received a light mumble in response, kat's way of agreeing. we knew each other in and out by now, we'd been best friends for years. probably from the first time we met years ago at her then club, brisbane roar, and soon after mine.

i had signed a deal with the club, contracted for 5 years. katrina had already been there for a year or two when i joined, but her contract ran out two years before mine did. she moved from there that year, signing with some other club over in england, leaving me behind.

unbeknownst to me, she did a stint with the club in england but then moved to a sweden club which i would later sign with. it was a big offer from them and a big sign for me, having to move from australia to sweden and play for vittsj�� gik. but i quickly decided it was the best decision i'd made in my life when i saw katrina on the training field at my first session. we were inseparable and attached at the hip again, we went everywhere together.

i had, very, quickly caught some sort of feelings towards the older woman when we first met and didn't know how to feel about that fact, choosing to ignore the butterflies that made chaos of my abdomen when i saw her.

i never knew if she had felt the same, and didn't want to ruin what bond we had together so i never said a word. now here we are, at national camp together, about 10 years later. it was a messy situation, especially on my end, but i made the most of it, loving every moment i got to spend with katrina, and her little harper.

"thank you for looking after harps, y/n." she brought me out of my little daydream with her gratitude. "it's all good, kat. i love the kid as much as anyone." harper wriggled around in my arms at my words.

we had made it to the meeting room then, and joined the rest of the team to take a seat.

——

it felt like a whole year had gone by after we left that room. my butt had gone numb from how long i was in that seat for. harper was in my arms again as me and kat walked out and towards the cafeteria. i honestly thought i could eat a horse, my last meal was at breakfast, almost 5 hours ago. i grabbed what i could fit onto my plate and raced over to a table and placed everything on the surface. katrina handed harper off to me while she went to get her's and harps lunch.

we sat in comfortable silence eating our food, me more so devouring. i finished everything on my plate and was finally full. both kat and harper were still eating, and both were laughing at me and my content sighs after eating for two people. "shut up, i was starving." i send a joking look to kat and she laughs some more at me.

"mama. water, please." harper's voice catches us both off guard, and we both just stare at her as she looks at me and makes grabby hands for my water bottle.

"did she..?" i trail off in a silent question to katrina. "yea.. she did." i went white as a sheet, body frozen. i finally found it in me and passed harper my water bottle. the kid latches onto it and drinks some. i was still shocked and hadn't uttered any words other than confirming what we'd both seen with kat.

my brain seemed to malfunction as my mind told me i needed to leave. i grabbed my plate, making some sort of excuse to get out of the room.

i bolted, heading for my own room this time. i flopped down on my bed, mind racing a million miles and hour. harper called me mama! i was elated but also worried at the same time. what if kat didn't want her kid to think of me as her second mum? my nerves and anxiety were called to the forefront and i kept asking myself questions without answers.

it felt like two seconds but there was a knock on my door, and suddenly it opened. i shot upright, and seeing it was kat, flopped back down.

i couldn't even look her in the face as she walked over. "y/n. are you okay?" "umm, yes?" it came out more as a question rather than a statement. "you're not. you were white as a ghost before." a split second of reckless thought sent me over the edge and i blurted. "harper called me mama." i didn't know what i was doing, i just needed to air that statement.

"yea, about that. i'm sorry, i didn't know she saw it like that." "you're.. sorry?" i was confused. did she not want me to be a mum to harper? "yea, i didn't think you wanted things to be like that."

surely she's joking. "kat.." i sat up and took a deep breath.

"katrina, i would love to be a mum to harper. i never told you any of this, and it's been at least 4 years of me bottling up my feelings. i have liked you so much, for the longest time. i have wanted nothing more to hug you as more than friends for the longest time. but i never said anything because i didn't want to ruin our friendship. you're like my best friend. but i want us to be more."

shit. i just ruined it didn't i? i looked up at katrina tentatively, scared to see her expression.

surprisingly, it wasn't one of hate. she almost looked.. relieved? "oh thank god." that was a new one. she sat down next to me so we were eye level again.

"i am so glad you said something, i would have gone another few years without saying anything. i like you so much more than friends, y/n. i can't even begin to explain how thankful i am to have you in my life, to help me with harper, or to just be with me when i need a shoulder to cry on."

what she says catches me off guard, i fully expected her to shun me and tell me she wasn't interested.

"wait.. really?" she nods with a smile. "yes really. you mean so much to me-" i cut her off by pressing my lips to hers. she freezes up but just as quickly, kisses me back. her lips are soft, sweet, they taste like caramel. i had my hands on either side of her face. she moves hers down to wrap around my waist. everything around us stops moving as we continue in our own little world. finally we break apart to take a breath.

"katrina-lee gorry, do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

"always, y/n y/l/n."

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #katrina gorry #katrina gorry x reader #katrina gorry imagine

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teawithnosugar · 10 months

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Your Love

! Pairings ,' Ellie x Reader ! CW ,' angst/comfort at the end, slight gore, trauma, mentions of abuse (I think), Ellie is kind of mean at first, Joel and Jesse ain’t dead here ! words ,' 2,6k ! synopsis ,' You and Ellie may fight sometimes, but she’s still the one that understands you most in the world. ! song ,' True Blue - boygenius

"I remember who I am when I’m with you"

! AN ,' ....it's been over a month...I AM SO SORRY. I'm on 3 hours of sleep so I wasn't able to edit this properly. This plot was waaaay better in my head, thinking abt making this a mini series. The reader’s past isn’t that detailed in this one but I think you’re able to get the idea djdbsjs 😭

When you first came to Jackson, you were 15, quiet, body tense, and covered from head to two in crimson liquid. Now you were 22, still quiet, still tense, and drenched in rain water. You and Ellie had just gotten back from patrol. You accidentally left behind a bag of loot while trying to save Ellie from a group of raiders. As soon as the door to your small cabin closed, she was on you, shouting at you for your mistake, voice as loud as the harsh rain outside. Jackson made you happy, talkative, at peace, but in moments like this it was easy to become that 15 year old again, scared and just taking the blows.

“There’s a flu going around Y/N! People need the medicine you just lost!”

Ellie was furious, pacing the cabin. It was like you were at that facility again, adults shouting at kids for not hitting their targets or being able to beat up other kids during training. You felt so small.

In reality, Ellie was angry, not at you, but at her own sense of burden. She still wasn’t over the incident at the hospital, and the vaccine that was never made because of her and now the medicine the town wouldn’t get because of her mistake. The guilt was overflowing, and coming out as steam in her ears and harsh words from her mouth. “I just…I just wanted to protect you,” you whispered. She froze, expression softening before it hardened. Before she could snap again, there was a knock on the door of your small cabin. You both looked at each other, slightly confused but more to tell each other that this would have to continue later. “We ran into a group of 15, but while we were getting away we saw more of them, all camping in Teton.” You don’t remember how you got here, in a meeting with Tommy, Joel, Jessie, Ellie, and Maria. Not that you were listening anyways. Everyone’s voices sounded fuzzy and echoey, like a vacuum of some sorts. You stared at the cracked wood of Maria’s dinner table. You couldn’t pay attention to the conversation, all you could think of was how empty your stomach felt but you didn’t have the appetite to eat anything.

“…I’m sorry to bring all of you here. Usually in situations like this I send Joel and Y/N…but Joel is getting old and Y/N…doesn’t seem to be in the state to do this alone.”

Maria's concern for your well-being echoes faintly, but it's Ellie’s hand on your knee from under the table that anchors you. She could tell your mind was slipping away again, and she had calmed down greatly since a while ago and wanted to comfort you. She recognized the way you gave a small nod at Maria’s words, eyes staring down at your lap when you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

You couldn’t help but feel like a burden. Killing and defending was all you were raised to do, and you felt like a disappointment for failing at your only notable job in the community.

You silently played with Ellie’s hand as the meeting went on. You wanted to help with the plan, to tell them some of what they came up with was a bit too dangerous and that it would’ve been easier if they just sent you, but you stayed quiet. If you were being honest, you didn’t really care at the moment, a numbness in your core eating away at your insides. You felt so empty.

In these moments, you found yourself drowning in a familiar sea of emotions. There was little else to do but immerse yourself in the touch of Ellie's skin.It wasn't a difficult choice to make – you could either get lost in your mind's maze or savor the sweetness of Ellie's hand, and surely, the latter was a far more delightful path to take.

As the meeting went on, Ellie glanced at you every few minutes. She hadn’t seen you like this in a long time. “You’re not a fucking killing machine” she had told you so many times before. “Yeah but I’m the best at playing the part” you’d always respond.

You wanted to help the community that had welcomed you so gracefully years ago. You lacked the culinary skills to prepare hearty meals, the green thumb to tend to blossoming seeds, and the craftsmanship to build sturdy shelters, so you helped the only way you knew how, by protecting them from outsiders, the thing you used to be long ago. Ellie understood your need to be useful all too well, too well to stop you despite how much you hated what you were doing. It’s the reason you chose flight over fight during patrol; you hated killing people.

“You leave in 30 minutes, pack up and meet in front of the gates.” Maria said, and the screeching of chairs being moved hit your ears, bringing you back to the current moment and flinching slightly. Ellie guided you out of the house and silently walked with you back to you to the small cabin. She kept a gentle hand secured around your waist, guilt from your previous argument eating away at her.

“I’m sorr-“

“It’s fine Els” you replied softly, pulling away slowly once you reached your cabin.

It was easy to gather your stuff, your belongings lay where you left them, forgotten in the heat of your argument. Gathering your things became a breeze once you decided to regain composure. However, as you turned around, you found Ellie already sorted and waiting, her eyes fixed on you like a gentle lighthouse beaming with concern.

She drew near and held you by your hips, rubbing and squeezing the flesh under your jeans comfortingly as she leaned her forehead against yours. She looked into your eyes softly. “I can ask Maria to let you sit this one ou-” “I’m fine Els” you repeated, still speaking softly, pressing your lips softly against yours. She smiled against your lips. She knew you weren’t fine, the tender touch of your lips on hers stirred a dance of butterflies in her mind, spinning and swirling like dandelion seeds caught in a playful breeze, just as you planned.

You held hands the whole walk to the gates and the ride to the planned spot. Your arm wrapped around Ellie’s torso as your entwined hands rested on her stomach. You sat behind her on Shimmer. Jesse led the group on his horse as he held the map and you all stayed close together on your horses. You traveled in a line, Jesse, then you and Ellie, then Joel and Tommy. You held the flashlight in your free hand to help light up the path, the sun had set moments ago. The plan was stupid, go in the dark so we could see their lights. It was something that could easily backfire but you didn’t speak up during the meeting so you’d have to deal with the consequences now.

Once you reached the spot, you set up a small base, preparing your weapons and tying down the horses. The area was just a little away from the camp of the people you saw a while ago. Once everyone found their place and the world hushed, Ellie stood beside you while you shed your jacket and tied your shoes with a firm, double knot. The plan was that you would go ahead, scout the area better and come back with useful information. Your unique talent for moving with an almost supernatural silence made you the natural pick for this task.

Her gaze lingered on you before she finally spoke “baby, are you sure?” You stood up straight and gave her a reassuring smile “I’m sure.” You gave her a peck in the cheek and waved to the others before disappearing into the trees, pistol, knife, and binoculars in hand, you left all your bigger weapons with the others to have more mobility.

As you approached the outskirts of the town where the camp lay, confusion washed over you like a cloud passing over the sun. The place was deserted, like a ghost town with its fires extinguished, and not a soul in sight, as if everyone had vanished into thin air. The echoes of gunfire hit you like a punch to the gut, and instinct took over, propelling your body into a sprint as if it had a mind of its own. With your gun and knife firmly grasped in each hand, you darted through the chaos at lightning speed. As you drew nearer, a grim scene unfolded before your eyes like a haunting painting, with lifeless bodies scattered like fallen leaves on a desolate path. …1..2..3…..8..9….

6 more were still alive. You ran around the area, staying out of the light, but your heart shattered into pieces as the sounds of Tommy and Ellie's desperate calls for Joel reached your ears. There, you saw the scene unfolding like a tragic play: Joel lying wounded under the raider's boot, his blood pooling into the grass under him. Ellie struggled to support Jesse who seemed to have gotten injured too. It was just Tommy and Ellie left, able to point their guns at the enemies who did the same. The raiders' shouts faded into the background, drowned out by the persistent ringing in your ears, now back with a vengeance. Ellie's gaze met yours, and with a hesitant nod, she urged you to do what you excelled at. She despised herself for it, knowing she was pushing you to embrace something you detested. But Joel and Jesse needed help, her and Tommy had used up all they had on the other 9 men, and they were basically cornered.

You moved expertly and quickly, mind blank aside from the need to protect your friends and your girlfriend. You shot and sliced through the group while dodging their attacks with ease. Your focus narrowed solely on the task at hand, blocking out everything else. Your friends' voices were lost, and all you saw were the raw, visceral images of flesh and blood as you killed and killed and killed and killed and killed. You didn’t even remember how you got there, straddling the chest of the man you knew was stepping on Joel awhile ago but you couldn’t even recognize his face anymore. Like a relentless storm, you repeatedly stabbed, the knife becoming an extension of your hand, painting the air crimson with every fierce strike. The man's features were now lost amidst the sea of red flesh and the occasional glimpses of his shattered skull, like shards of a broken mirror.

Your hands, once steady and sure, now throbbed with pain as they clutched onto the knife, coated in a macabre tapestry of bloodstains. The pistol you once held was discarded on the ground nearby, forgotten in the haze of battle. Bruises were likely forming under the stains, but such sensations were distant, eclipsed by the singular focus in your mind, as if you were a machine set on a single purpose. You had slipped into that zone, the mindset of that child trained to kill, where the world narrowed to a singular purpose, leaving everything else behind.

That was until you felt a familiar pair of hands gently pull you off the messy mound of lifeless red flesh, holding you close to their very much alive one. Once the familiar smell of rain water and pinewood hit your nose, you forgot all about the faint smell of blood, like it was just a distant memory. Tilting your head up, you met her worried gaze, her green eyes tightly knit with concern, etching a profound impact on your heart.

“Kid, are you okay?” Tommy had kneeled down in front of you two after quickly packing up everyone’s stuff and putting them on the horses. The worry on his face made the tears that had already unconsciously welled up in your eyes spill over. He didn’t hate you, he was worried, and so was Ellie. She hasn’t seen you like this…in years, and it was breaking her heart because it felt like all the progress you went through just…vanished. But that wasn’t true, you’d be fine. You’d always be fine with her there.

You nodded shakily towards the older man who had become a father figure to you in your time in Jackson. Your eyes flickered towards Jesse and Joel, both injured and on the horses, suffering silently as they waited for us to start moving. ‘Get your shit together’ you screamed internally.

You sadly pulled away from Ellie and stood up. The two needed to get medical attention soon. The ride back was quiet but fast. Ellie and Tommy rode with Jesse and Joel so they wouldn’t have to move much so you were riding on your own horse. Your face was blank but god the voices in your head were loud as you mindlessly followed the two other horses.

‘You should’ve done this alone’

‘One of the men you killed had a wedding band, could one of the other bodies be their loved one?’

‘You could’ve helped plan it out better during the meeting’

‘Another one of the men screamed so loud you were able to hear it through the ringing in your ears, as if the stars cared he was dying. Did you not kill him quickly enough?’

‘None of this would’ve happened if you fucking said something earlier’

The brunette looked back at you every once in a while to make sure you were still there. She was obviously overwhelmed, both her father figure and her best friend were bleeding out and her girlfriend was visibly close to breaking down after killing 6 people in fucking seconds. She kept it together though, she had to.

Once you all arrived back in town and the lives of her loved ones were assured, she brought you home. Ellie tossed all your stuff and hers onto the peeling leather couch, not caring about them at all because you were the priority right now.

Ellie pulled you with her onto the bed, cradling you in her arms. The blood on your body seeped into the sheets, leaving dark stains in its wake. In your dazed state, you managed to utter a faint concern, "I don't want to get the bed dirty." While you were consumed with guilt over the bed, Ellie's heart ached that your focus was on something seemingly trivial amidst the chaos you had faced. Her scent, her touch, she was like some magical drug that quiets the voices in your head. Who needed therapy or talk when she was just there? She stayed quiet and held you tighter, hiding your hands in hers so you wouldn’t see the crimson that stained on them. After a few moments she pressed a kiss to the back of your head and it’s like you couldn’t even remember what you were arguing about earlier in the day, and how you were supposed to continue talking about it. It was better this way, neither of you won something that probably wasn’t even worth keeping score of. You felt her arms slip under your back and your leg as she started carrying you towards the bathroom, you didn’t fight her hold, you leaned into it actually, snuggling your face into her chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Then we can get you that pasta and garlic bread from the Diner you like so much.”

“Mhm.”

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader angst

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thatsdemko · 8 months

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they want us to be - m.mount

masterlist

pairing: Mason mount x fem!reader

warnings: angst + me having a lack of knowledge of the transportation systems of Europe

a/n: yeah I’m sorry about this one..

the train ride in from London to Manchester was long and brutal. you’d think somewhere along the lines you’d just move half way in between your best friend and your current job, but moving in this economy was proven to be rather difficult. so the train it was.

the cities and empty towns pass by you in a whirl and before you know it you’re the next stop: Manchester. you’d gathered an overnight bag that feels weightless as you pick it up and move out of your seat towards the exit. you thank the man who helps you off and find his car. it doesn’t take long, it’s the most expensive one in the parking lot.

“hey!” his head snaps up from his phone, whatever it was becomes completely irrelevant once you’re in the warm car and tossing your back in front of your feet.

letting out a long sigh you take a look over at him. his hair still has patches of blond showing and the buzz cut is much shorter than you last had seen it. “hey,” you let out finally. leaning over the center counsel you wrap your arms around him, “why’d you cut your hair?” you gently run your finger tips over the rough ends of his hair before he quickly pulls away, a blush creeping to his cheeks.

“you don’t like it?”

“I’ve expressed my dislikes for it many times.” you’d recall for him the last time he’d cut it short, you couldn’t look him in the eyes without laughing and you’d think he’d learned his lesson that the look wasn’t meant for him, yet without your supervision Mason still went ahead and did so.

“yeah well you’re not my girlfriend so you don’t make the calls.” his bitter tone shuts you up. you result back into looking out the window much like you did the whole train ride here. was this how it was going to be?

LAST TIME | Manchester

“come on, come on! say it again, please.” you laugh, your body leans forward against the wooden table tops as you wait for masons giggle fit to end before he turns serious and does his best impression of his coach on the sidelines.

“you’re getting really good at it.” you lie, or maybe it was flirting. the alcohol in your system had you looking at Mason differently than normal, and it’s not you to blame when he wears a tight black shirt and grey sweatpants that could have any girl swooning in admiration of his biceps.

“am I? I only learn from the best impersonator myself.” he gestures to you in front of him, “give me your best Ben impression, I forgot what he sounds like.”

“you chatted with him on the phone two hours ago!”

it’s his turn to lean in, his hands pressed against the cool table tops as he watches you take a swig from your pint of beer, “and I’ve seemingly forgotten what he sounds like! come on, do it!”

rolling your eyes you give him what he wants and a roar of laugher escapes from him. the sound fills your heart and makes your chest feel fuzzy and your head starts to spin. was this what it felt like to fall in love? was the feeling of falling supposed to be this intoxicating?

“is it crazy I miss London?” he looks up from the empty pint in front of him, his hands awkwardly cup the glass trying to find anything to occupy the numbness in his chest when he mentions his previous home. while Manchester was beautiful and different, you didn’t live here. you lived a train away and that killed him.

“I don’t think it’s crazy, mase. this was a big change— and may I mention a good change.” you reach across the table, your sweaty palm touches the back of his hand and pulls his attention away from the table.

“I guess I just miss you.”

oh. you feel a tightness in your chest as you pull your hand away and sink against the back of the chair.

“I shouldn’t of said that I’m sorry—“

“no. don’t apologize.” you cut him off, “I miss you too.”

a relief washes over his face to hear the words back. there’d been plenty of new friends and faces for him to kindle a connection with, but no one could hold a candle to what you two had. there was an undeniable chemistry that sparked since your teen years and carried on, it’s what made you two inseparable despite the commute.

“I’m sorry, I’m being like the worst drunk ever.”

you shake your head. reaching your hand across the table again, “don’t say that. come on, let’s just go to bed? maybe we just need sleep.” you suggest and he agrees. he trails behind you into his master bedroom that’s practically untouched. the space is so clean and barely lived in, it’s almost uncomfortable to look at.

“will you sleep with me? I don’t think I can be alone right now.” his finger tips grab a hold of your hand, the warmth sends a shock wave through your body making you turn in his direction. he’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his large body blocks you from seeing the rest of the room as his eyes plea for your attention.

“mase, that’s dangerous.” you warn. the last time you’d slept in the same bed was the same night he’d gracefully taken your virginity and ever since then you could never see him naked without your ovaries having a reaction to him.

he wets the bottom of his lip with his tongue, his beautiful brown eyes are glassy and convincing, you press your lips against his for a brief second, “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“can’t you stay with me forever?” he whispers half jokingly but half serious. you pretend you don’t hear him and just climb into his bed while he undresses himself.

“I mean what I said. I want you with me forever.”

NOW | Manchester

“pint or glass?”

“glass.” you say setting your things down into the living room and waiting for Mason to come back in. you stare out the large floor to ceiling windows out at the city. the grey clouds and dark skies feel different here, in London you felt safer from the storms, but here? there was something chilling about the look.

“how’s Ben? anything new happening with Chelsea?” he moves into the living room and sets your glass down on a coaster. he takes the seat closest to where you’re standing and watches your eyes move from cloud to cloud and person to person.

“joão left.”

“so I’ve been told.” he says making your head turn in his direction and offer him a small smile before taking the seat next to him.

“but Bens good, he just moved into my building.”

a shocked expression lights his face making you snort, “what? you’re surprised we get along now?”

he nods his head enthusiastically, “yes! it took months for you two to get along!”

“months?! I’d say weeks, he always had a problem with me.”

it’s masons turn to snort making you give him a look of surprise, “he just had a thing for you and then he realized you only like me so he gave up.”

you fight the urge to tell him it wasn’t true. you fight the urge to tell him the reason Ben moved in was because he was with you. the reason you couldn’t stay with Mason forever was because Ben chilwell was your idea of forever.

“well I think he still has a thing for me.”

Mason rolls his eyes whipping out his phone from his pocket, “you want me to tell him off? I can tell him you still have feelings for Christian—“

“no! oh my god one time! I said one time I liked Christian for a week!” you launch your body onto his and try to fight him for the phone while he types and clearly whoever it was, it wasn’t Ben. because the person on the other end responded faster than your boyfriend actually would.

“who are you actually texting?” you press, a cheeky grin on your face, “come on, I know it’s a girl none of your mates respond that fast!”

he puts his hands up as a white flag and admits from start to finish about the new girl he was talking to. he’d mentioned how she was awfully similar personality to yours and how he really liked her, but he fails to admit she’s not you. he likes her enough to keep things going, but she lacks the personality you have.

“I’m so happy for you.” you whisper, voice sounding breathless and a mixture of emotions settled into your chest. you’re happy for him, and this is exciting news, but why did it hurt? Ben was your boyfriend who you so dearly loved, but why was Mason moving on the worst thing you could ever hear.

you guess it’s true, maybe you two were meant to be but you’d never know until you stop loving others and love each other.

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anama-cara · 5 months

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Take care

Boston Era!Joel Miller x you

Part 2

Summary: You're a nurse working in the Boston QZ and when a handsome new patient comes in you just can't help yourself. Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, +18 minors dni, handjob, somnophilia, noncon. reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type

You fucking hate it here- you hate Boston, hate FEDRA, hate your job, hate the world, hate your life. You need some excitement, something new. You're working as a nurse in a dirty QZ hospital. It's such a fucking joke. The hospital (if you can even really call it that) looks like an abandoned building. The lights flicker, the glass windows are shattered, the floor is always covered in grime, some of the brick walls are even crumbling in the front. Whenever a surgery needs to be done they just dip the instruments in a bucket of alcohol, theres no such thing as a sterile procedure anymore. There aren't enough supplies or staff left to properly function as a real hospital. There are only a few doctors for a ton of patients, some people that come in don't even get seen by a doctor. So that's where you come in, the nurses. You aren't even an actual nurse, you've never been formally trained. Before the outbreak you were a radiology tech, and once the QZ was set up they went around asking for anyone who was in the medical field. You volunteered, but you had no idea it'd be for a job like this. They just threw you to the wolves and over the years you've improvised and learned what works. It was messy in the beginning, you were scrambling and scared and had breakdowns almost daily. But now you feel like a hardened nurse, numb to most things.

You're sitting in the "break room" munching on some jerky and absentmindedly kicking at a smudge mark on the ground with your boot.

There's a flurry of commotion the hallway and the door flies open.

"Jen?"

Your friend pokes her head in. "Oh good you're here, come on, we've got an intake. Male in late 40s, early 50s. Stab wound. "

"Is the doc coming to take a look?"

"Nope. Busy. It's on you."

"Me? He's not my patient and I'm supposed to be on break."

She laughs. "Yeah sorry. I would. You know I would. But my plate is full. I got a gun shot wound that's infected that's taking all my time. I wouldn't throw you this one if I didn't know you can handle it."

"Of course Jen. I got your back." You're following her down the hall rushing towards the emergency entrance.

"Thanks. Two guys brought him in." She nods to a room at the end of the hall on the left.

"OK thanks Jen." You give her a nod and head towards your newest patient as she bustles down the corridor.

"Hello I'm- shit." This is the kinda shit you're getting sick and tired of. The men just dumped him and left. Your patient is fully unconscious, laying flat on his back on the exam table, wound still bleeding. This guy needs a doctor, but you're all there is. You sprint for the supplies closet, grabbing alcohol wipes, gauze and suturing materials. With your arms full you rush back to the room. Good thing he's unconscious, you think, because this is going to hurt and the hospital ran out of pain meds long ago.

You tug and rip his flannel shirt open, making the buttons pop off. You're tearing open packets of gauze and trying to clean his wound so you can get a good look at the entry point. Finally after wiping away the dried and fresh blood you get a clean view. You begin disinfecting. There's an open gash about four inches long running underneath his ribs on the right side.

You blow out a deep breath, pull up a chair and get to work closing the laceration.

An hour later you push yourself up, set your instruments aside, wipe the sweat from your brow and look over the stitches. Given the circumstances its looks pretty darn good, you're actually proud of yourself.

You look your patient over, eyes moving past his wound and taking him wholly in for the first time.

He's probably in his early 50s, patchy graying beard, tan skin, ruffled hair. His flannel shirt you ripped open reveals his hard chest and soft tummy. You study his sleeping face, the creases in his brow and the hard angles of his jaw and nose. He's undeniably handsome.

You notice the blood on his flannel and you sigh as you stand up from your stool. You stretch, back aching after leaning over him to sew his wound. You reach for his flannel and begin tugging his limp arms out of the sleeves. You pull the bloody shirt out from underneath him and toss it on a nearby table. His arms are muscular and you notice a few scars here and there. Your hand reaches out on its own accord to lightly trace over a jagged white line on his bicep. He twitches at your touch and your hand quickly pulls away.

You move down to his jeans. After unbuckling his belt you slowly pull them down, trying to be as gentle as possible. Now that the immediate danger of the bleeding stab wound has been dealt with you need to do a physical exam and make sure he has no injuries elsewhere. You toss his pants on the table and walk back to your patient, examining every inch of his beautifully tanned skin. You can get him a hospital gown later. Your hand traces up his leg and you watch it as it moves over his dark hair, over his knee and rests on his thigh at the edge of his boxers. You shift your gaze higher and to your surprise you see his hardened bulge pushing against his boxers. You gulp and your hand lightly glides up and down his inner thigh, tracing along his muscle. You shoot a glance up to his face - he's still out. You look at the closed door and try to listen. You don't hear anyone in the hallway. The only other nurse on duty in your unit of the hospital is Jen and she's definitely still occupied with that gunshot wound...

You reach up and with one hand you pull the waistband and his boxers out while your other hand slips underneath, wrapping around his hard cock. His cock twitches when you first touch him and you smile. You slowly move your hand all the way down, feeling the full length of him. Damn he's got a nice one. You swallow the spit that's pooling in your mouth. You drag your hand back up and your thumb runs through his slit and circles around the head. You look at Joel's face again. He's still completely out but you think his brow looks more furrowed and his mouth a little more opened. You continue to gaze up at him as you twirl around his head, feeling precum beginning to bead at his tip. You swipe and gather it on your index finger before popping it in your mouth. Salty and warm and deliciously masculine. You pull your finger out and hold up your hand as you tounge it, licking your palm and fingers.

Your grab his cock again, pumping him faster now as your hand glides over his warm smooth skin. You hum to yourself as you work.

Minutes later and you feel him tightening. You quickly grab a cloth from the table and tuck it under his boxers just in time. He erupts under your hand, ribbons of messy cum spilling into the cloth. When he's done your pull the cloth out and wrap it up neatly, keeping everything it caught tucked into the middle. Joel's eyelids flutter and he makes a groaning noise. He'll be waking up soon. You place the dirty cloth in the laundry bag and step into the hallway to grab a patient gown from the clean linen cart. You wash off your sticky hand and quickly dress him. You're tidying up your instruments when Joel finally wakes up, groaning as he tries to sit.

"Woah mister careful, you got a pretty good gash in your abdomen there. Easy. Just relax. You're in the hospital now. I'll take good care of you."

You smile pleasantly at him.

#joel miller the last of us #post outbreak joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dead dove do not eat #non con #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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eashn · 5 days

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The Train's Coming - Chapter 1 (Sawamura Daichi)

Pairing: Cop!Daichi x fem!reader

Summary: Officer Daichi Sawamura saves you from being squashed under a train. Feelings ensue.

Ao3 Link

Tags/Warnings: fluff, meet-cute, romantic + sexual tension, Crack, a few too many cop jokes, Daichi's big brown eyes, almost getting hit by a train (be safe around trains guys)

6AM. That’s how early you woke up this morning to do your hair, stuff your feet into your brand-new heels, and catch the train in time to make it to your interview. Now here you were: shivering like an idiot in the brisk morning air with a coffee in your hand, waiting for the train to arrive.

There weren’t many people at the station this early, just a few other passengers and a policeman on patrol, strolling back and forth beside the tracks. The bustle of the morning commute wouldn’t begin for another hour or so—but unfortunately, you didn’t have the drab, easy stability of a 9-to-5 quite yet. Today must’ve been the tenth morning this month that you’d gotten up at the asscrack of dawn, just to haul yourself to yet another mind-numbing interview.

You had pulled through before, though. You knew that. Shifting your feet in your pinchy heels, you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. All you had to do was recite the same, memorized garbage about your goals, your strengths, and “What are your plans to better this company?” and “How do you define the concept of success?” and…and…you were making yourself a little sick just thinking about it. But it’d all be over soon, you reminded yourself, and then you could claim a nice, fat check. You sipped your coffee, feeling warmer at the thought.

“Attention passengers,” an automated female voice spoke from the intercom. “The train will be arriving in approximately two minutes.” Sighing, you reached into your pocket to grab your ticket.

Your fingers closed around air.

“Shit,” you said quietly, checking your other pockets. Empty. “Oh, fuck.”

You sank to the ground, ripping your purse open, scrambling through it. Hot coffee splashed against your hand as you slammed your cup into the pavement. You hissed, ignoring the burn—ignoring the fact that the bell had started to toll, signaling the arriving train. You turned your purse upside down, but the ticket was nowhere to be found.

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered, rising to your feet and scanning the floor around you for any sign of it, but the terror had already set in. You were gonna miss the train. You were gonna miss your interview. Shit, you had been so careless, so stupid! You wobbled on your feet, feeling suddenly unstable in those shiny new heels. Your head spun; vertigo grabbed hold of you.

And then—oh, God. You veered a little too close to the yellow line. Time slowed as you caught sight of the train speeding toward you. You felt yourself trip—

“WOAH!” A male voice cried out. An arm looped suddenly around your waist, firmly pulling you back.

A uniform and badge came into view. It was the policeman you’d noticed earlier. Shock was etched across his face, burning brightly in those dark brown eyes. “Holy shit,” he breathed, and you felt his solid arm tense around you as the tracks rattled and the train went shooting past. The air sang with its speed. Wind sent your hair whipping across your face.

“The train’s coming, miss,” the policeman said. “Please stay behind the yellow line.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting inside the train station with a fresh coffee on the seat beside you, courtesy of Officer Daichi Sawamura. There was a cut on your knee from the fall, and it really wasn’t that bad, but he’d insisted on retrieving a first-aid kit anyway. You’d long since taken off your heels.

“Um, Officer,” you began. “Thank you so much, again. I–I appreciate all your help, but the coffee truly wasn’t necessary—”

“Nonsense,” he replied, his tone somehow decisive and soft-spoken at the same time. “It’s 7 in the morning, Miss L/N, and I think it’d be cruel to make you fill out an incident report at this hour with nothing in return.” You winced at the words incident report, remembering what he’d said minutes earlier: “It’s just a formality. Nothing serious, I promise.”

No amount of his reassurance could abate your embarrassment. You wanted to jump in front of another train.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, pulling the first-aid kit out of a drawer. He strode toward you and, to your utmost surprise, knelt to the floor.

“Uh,” you said dumbly.

“How bad is it?” he asked gently. “On a scale of one to ten?”

“Uh,” you replied.

No way. Was he serious? He could not be serious. There was a hairline of a scratch on your knee—in fact, the worst casualty of the morning had been your nice, new pantyhose which now had a gaping hole worn into them. You stared bewilderedly at his concerned expression, at the way he held himself a respectful inch of distance away from you despite being on his knees at your feet. Muddy morning sunlight filtered through the windows behind you. It cast a glow across his tan skin, his thick brows that furrowed in earnest, his brown hair that looked so…soft, despite being close-cropped.

Dear God, he was gorgeous, wasn’t he? How had you not noticed before? He was attractive in the most boyish, good-natured, uniformed way.

The uniform. He was a cop. You screamed at yourself, knowing you needed to reign your shit in. Immediately.

“Miss L/N?” He cocked his head slightly, gazing up at you.

“Um…I–I’m good, Officer. Seriously, it’s barely a scratch. And anyways, weren’t you gonna arrest me—I mean! Um. Incident report…me…or something.”

Jesus, you were insane. You were actually braindead. Was this even happening? Maybe Officer Sawamura didn’t actually save you, maybe you just tripped and died and were in Heaven now. He was a fucking cop, and you were ogling at him with a string of drool practically hanging from your mouth. Your eyes flicked down to the handcuffs tucked into his duty rig. And to his gun. Oh, God.

His eyes were big and warm as he looked up at you with plain, candid honesty. “I can’t let you leave without making sure you’re taken care of. You know that, right?”

What did they teach this guy in cop school? What an absolutely awful, suggestive, arousing way to phrase that sentence—No! you mentally screeched. It was not arousing. This situation was not arousing in the slightest—

But now he was dabbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and gesturing toward your knee. “May I?” he seemed to ask non-verbally, raising his brows.

This is not normal, you told yourself. You didn’t understand any of it, and honestly, you found that right now you didn’t care. Because now, Officer Sawamura Daichi was looking at you with more sincerity than you ever thought a human being could possess. Before you even knew what you were doing, you nodded.

He placed the cotton against your skin. It stung, and you jolted hard. “Easy,” he murmured, bringing a warm hand to your thigh. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. It’ll just take a second, I promise.”

And then he dragged that hand up your thigh. Past your waist. Across the bare skin of your arm. He let it rest over your own hand, and then he turned those deep, earthy eyes up to you.

“Forgive me, Miss L/N,” he began, and his voice wavered just a bit. He chewed on his lip for a moment, like he was scared to go on.“This is really…forward of me, but…I need to say it. Just once.”

For the second time today, you felt as though the seconds on the clock were slowing down. There was less panic this time, though. Instead, anticipation crackled through your veins. You were a fly stuck in honey, watching the world move around you. Your heart pounded louder than an earthquake. And through it all, you could feel the perfect heat of Officer Sawamura’s palm against your skin—you could feel him carefully rub his thumb across it. It was the longest moment you’d ever experienced, and it took your breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally whispered. In a shuddering gasp, you choked all your air back in. You were so glad you missed that stupid interview.

Thanks so much for reading! This will probably be an ongoing series. Maybe. Idk.

Requests are currently open! Follow @eashn for more!

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #sawamura daichi #daichi x y/n #daichi x reader #daichi smut #daichi fluff #daichi sawamura x reader #multifandom series

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live-laugh-lenney · 6 months

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drunk | arthurtv

hello!

here is my long awaited arthurtv fic number two for you guys. the last one got so much love and i'm so glad it went down as well as it did - panic set in soon after i posted it because i thought it was going to flop rather dramatically so thank you for all the love and comments made; it meant so much.

currently ill with the worst blocked ear/ear infection and i've had to wait for a long while to get myself a doctors appointment so i've had plenty of time to write this current fic and dabble in a couple of other ideas i've had over the last few days.

enjoy! x

--- reader note; mentions of sick, slight hints of sex, drunk arthur, heavy public displays of affection ---

At two in the morning, YN was glad that the train station had an open Costa coffee kiosk.

One; to help with the tiredness she felt from having to stay up so late because she was prepared and ready to fall asleep and get, at least, a few hours of sleep before Arthur stumbled through the door in the drunken state she expected him to be in after being on the drink all day. And two; to help with the chill in the air because it was almost zero degrees and the wind was biting at the skin beneath her hoodie every time a train left its platform or every time there was a breeze that blew through the constantly open doors of the station. Her eyelids felt heavy and the chill in the station bit at her exposed cheeks, her nose running and she was forever sniffing, so her fingertips would have definitely gone numb without the much-needed Costa cup of coffee she was nursing in her hands.

She was one of the only a small handful of people waiting at Paddington; but then, given it was almost 1am, she expected nothing but quiet and emptiness in contrast to how it would have been a few hours prior to arriving. The train from Cardiff was one of the last trains to come into London for the night and she couldn’t imagine it would be chaos to try and find her boyfriend and his two friends amongst the hustle and bustle of those clambering off the train. There was a young man sitting on a bench in the distance, hood over his head and his headphones over his ears, as he kept a close eye on the boards above. There was a couple who must have been in their mid-fifties, or so YN presumed, who seemed to be waiting for one of their children to come home, given what was written on a small banner they’d decorated for their arrival - proud parents, she thought, because she wouldn’t have dared tell her own parents about getting a train home that was to dock at almost one in the morning. And there was a security officer walking around, making sure no one was causing any problems, wearing a thick coat that YN was extremely jealous of because she could imagine how warm he was.

She heard them before she saw them.

“YN!”

George was the first to greet her, arms open wide as he engulfed her into a hug, his green hoodie tied around the waist of his shorts because he was clearly susceptible to cold air that London had to offer that night, not a care in the world to the goosebumps rising on the surface of his skin. Although, she could vouch for him because the weather was beautifully warm when they left for Wales that morning. His hat placed backwards on his head and he could barely walk in a straight line in her direction, shoelace undone and she kept a close eye on him to make sure he didn’t trip and fall flat on his face. Everyone knew what a typical Platform Roulette filming day entailed - plenty of drink, plenty of shots, plenty of piss-taking and plenty of fun - so she expected nothing less than what was standing before her.

“Thank you so much for this,” he hums and she could smell the beer on his breath. His chin rested upon her shoulder and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t basking in the warmth he was radiating, “you’re the best.”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I? Couldn’t leave you three stranded in the middle of London in the freezing cold, drunk out of your minds and wandering around without a clue on where you were going,” she snorted, patting him on the back as she pulled away from him, taking a long sip of her coffee to keep the feeling of heat running through her body, “you’re welcome, though. Nice knowing that you’ll get back safely. And it’s a free trip home so you’d be three fools to turn it down.”

Arthur Hill was the next to give her a hug and he clearly wasn’t as drunk as George seemed to be so she was intrigued to know just how well her boyfriend had handled his drink that day. He whispered a thank you, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and pulled away from her before following George towards the station exit where they disappeared around the corner.

“Baaabe,” Arthur smiled, slurring the term of endearment incredibly heavily and YN knew she was in for a long, long night when they arrived back at her flat. His eyelids were sunken, his cheeks were rosey-red and he had a silly smile upon his face that she only saw when he’d sunken more pints than he could handle, hair messed upon his head, hoodie tied around his shoulders in a makeshift cape hanging down his back, “I missed you today.”

He draped himself over her in the tightest hug he could muster, almost knocking the two of them to the floor in the middle of Paddington station, and she could feel eyes boring into the back of her skull as people watched the two of them - anyone would think they’d not seen each other for months on end and it was a reunion for all to see. His hugs were invigorating and she’d take his arms over anything comforting. He was her safety net and seeing him after a day of not hearing from him, it made her feel soft and ready to melt at his feet.

“Are you drunk? Or are you drunk drunk?”

“What’s the difference?” He grinned cheekily, swinging his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side, pressing the sloppiest and wettest kiss against her temple as they started their walk towards the exit, “m’just a little drunk. Only a little bit.”

The beer stain on his trousers and the strong smell of sambuca and the faint smell of beer on his breath said differently but that was a conversation for when he was sober and could almost remember everything that happened that day. Which she was in major doubts about. Because it seemed like he couldn’t remember how to walk, let alone walk in a straight line, and she guessed she would have to wait for the Platform Roulette video to be posted online before she got the full rundown of his day.

His hands kept wandering across her body as they stepped foot closer and closer to the exit of the station; his arm occasionally wrapping around her waist and his hand brushing against her bum, his fingers tickling across the expanse of her chest when he laid his arm across her shoulders, and as humorous as she found it, she didn’t fancy being groped (playfully, might she add) in the middle of the train station where there were eyes watching the two of them.

“Stop it,” she warned him in a hushed tone, “save it for home.”

“But you just look so good-” a hiccup interrupted his sentence and he swallowed back a burp before she carried on, “you look so so good in my clothes.” And it came out as a whine, like a child not getting what they wanted, one foot tripping over the other as she tried her best to keep him from falling flat on his face.

“First thing I could find in my room after you texted me to come and pick you up.”

“Well, you should wear more of my clothes. Suit you better than me,” they stepped foot outside and she felt his arm tighten around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his side to keep the two of them as far out of the cold as possible, and she really couldn’t wait to get back home. Back under the warmth of her blanket, back under the bedding she had on her bed, and back with the hot-water bottle she had resting behind her back before she left, “or you could just wear nothing at all. I love it when you’ve got nothing on, more than I love you wearing my clothes.”

“Cheeky as per usual, mister Television,” George cackled as he overhead the last little bit of their conversation, wiggling his eyebrows in his direction, “we best get home quick so Arthur can get his-”

Arthur charged for him and covered his mouth, shaking his head, “there is a lady present,” he looked in YN’s direction and she rolled her eyes, “besides, she knows what we’re gonna be doing later.”

She snorted at his comment and begrudgingly wiggled from underneath his arm, her car keys sitting heavy in the pocket of her hoodie as she fished them out, unlocking her car door to allow the three of them, who seemed to already be fighting over who got the front seat, to clamber inside.

“Are you in need of a sick bucket tonight?”

She walked into her bedroom, with a glass of water in one hand and two paracetamol tablets in the palm of her other hand, and saw Arthur tucked up in her bed. His blue t-shirt chucked on the floor in a heap of cotton and his beige trousers left at the door as a reminder to put them in the wash the following morning, his rucksack hanging on the back of her desk chair and his shoes kicked off next to the fluffy slippers she kept beside her en-suite bathroom. A tea light was lit under the wax burner she had upon the shelf above her bed, emitting the smell of cinnamon and gingerbread around her room, the flickering flame adding a sense of sensual comfort to the room, casting shadows in her room and upon his face.

“I can handle my liquor,” he stated and shook his head, snuggling a little further down upon the mattress and patting her side of the bed with his hand, “I told you I’m only a little drunk, I promise. Now come and lay down with me.”

“I just want to get everything ready before I get settled,” she insisted as she placed the glass of water and the paracetamol on the bedside table that was closest to him, ready for him to take in the morning, “and I need to make sure you’re set for any headaches or whatever.”

He watched as she flitted around her bedroom, making sure the bathroom light was off and that his shoes were placed a little neater than how they’d been left, kicking his t-shirt towards his trousers so neither of them tripped over the items when they needed a wee in the middle of the night. She threw a couple more pillows on the bed, because she hated laying flat when she slept, and he helped out by placing them where she would normally have them, which she felt incredibly grateful for. And, as she stepped closer to the bed, he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle tug - enough was enough and he felt she was spiraling in her tired state.

“You look after me so well,” he smiled softly, dropping her hand and grabbing her waist, pulling her onto the bed, the duvet slipping from his chest and exposing his nude upper half for her eyes to divulge. She situated her legs either side of his, hands on his shoulders, fingers combing through the hair at the nape of his neck and her eyes couldn’t leave his, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his body, shuffling around into a more comfortable position, “it’s lucky we’re not doing anything tomorrow because I’m getting the feeling we won’t be sleeping much tonight.”

“That’s cheeky,” he smirked, hiding his face in her neck and pressing a litter of kisses across her collarbone, “but you’re so correct, baby.”

not sure how i feel about the ending... but here it is! in all its glory.

if you've made it this far then please let me know what you think and don't hesitate to send me any ideas you may have for future fics. my ask box is always open so don't hesitate to send anything in.

lots of love to you guys! thank you! xx

#arthurtv #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv fics #arthurtv headcannons #arthur frederick #arthur frederick imagines #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick headcannons #arthur hill #george clarkey #george clarke #youtuber imagines #chaos crew

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