#//and did the wind manage to get me to fall over?…. that’s another story for another time//

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

//To all my mutuals who have experience with the cold— how tf do you not get knocked over by strong af winter wind when walking around ty ✌🏽 Sincerely, your friendly neighborhood gremlin//

[lucid-loves]

simon slowly falling in love with reader after hating her for a long time⁉️

Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it! ❤

Nuclear Date Night

Pairing: Ghost x 141!reader (fem!reader, weaponsengineer!reader, codename: Byte)

Word Count: 12.8k, One-Shot

CW: strong language, mention of violence, hate to love relationship, rivals, competitive, competence, realized feelings, smut, body praise, deep kissing, licking, fingering, biting, p in v

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Ghost hates your guts. Even since you joined the team as their new weapons engineer two years ago, he’s hated you with his whole chest. With your high and mighty attitude, bewildering intellect, and unwavering confidence, he can’t stand you. You hate him too with his unreadable face, demeaning protection, and lack of grace. When an undercover mission requires the two of you to get closer, though, the both of you realize your hate for one another has turned into something else entirely. 

You ignored the icy cold glare the lieutenant kept on your figure as you explained how the new sniper-focus worked. Your comrades stared at your invention in wonderment, once again reminded just why you were part of the team. Thanks to your countless all-nighters and delicate hands, you managed to invent a focus that can attach to any sniper, calculate notches and wind speed, recommend the gun-adjust accordingly, and hit a target perfectly with over 98% accuracy. No matter the distance, no matter the weather, your focus powered with A.I. calculated assistance can kill any target. 

Everyone was impressed. Save for Ghost. 

“Aim at the target, give it a second to calculate, and then listen to the adjustment with the earpiece. After that, just adjust the aim and fire. Pretty simple stuff, really.” You demonstrated, large sniper in hand. 

The wind blew through your hair, dust coating your strands like moth to a flame. From a distance, a whipping dust devil was forming across the golden sands of the desert. It was dry, it was hot, and it was windy as hell. It was the perfect place to demonstrate your brilliance. 

When you joined the team two years ago, you knew that you had to put your heart and soul into this job in order to be taken seriously. You weren’t especially muscular or tall. As a soldier, you did train for instances of defense in case it was needed, but your true power relied on your smarts. A rather overlooked sign of an excellent soldier that often invited ridicule from the more traditional soldier. 

That’s exactly what Ghost did when he first met you. 

“You sure this shrimp can handle herself? Be one of us? She looks like she can barely lift a spoon without straining her wrist.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the memory, muscles tensing as if you were in that moment once again. The memory of your response quickly took over. 

“Are you sure this meat-head can handle my science? He looks like he can barely use a blender without getting confused by all the buttons.”

You both left a bitter taste in each other’s mouths that day. The taste has lingered ever since, tainting nearly every interaction you had. It was a wonder how you haven’t killed each other yet. 

Setting up the sniper, you prepped for the real demonstration. While you did final adjustments to the focus, you called over your rival. “Ghost, test this for us.”

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig? I don’t need a fucking robot to focus my aim anyway.” He protested, every cold tone in his words deliberate. 

The team shifted uncomfortably, even after all this time still not used to the spats the two of you got into. Attempts to resolve the bad blood have always failed. It was easier to just let the two of you spit your fire until you ran out of fuel. 

“Alright then, tough guy, you can aim without it. Go ahead, hit the target.” You nonchalantly agreed, confident that things were going to go your way this round. Ghost noticed that easy acceptance you gave, his eyes narrowing at you as he tried to figure you out. What was your game this time?

Not one to back down, he approached the sniper and aimed it normally, your focus set to default. No robots, no artificial intelligence. Just plain-Jane markers for distance. Looking through the scope, Ghost looked for the little red flag that indicates the location of the fake target used for practice. After a while of looking at nothing but sand, he spotted the target just past the dust devil. 

He would have to account for that. You planned for this. No wonder you insisted on dragging them all out to this dry wasteland. He clenched his teeth, blood simmering as you tried to make him look like a fool in front of his team. Backing away, though, would make him lose this game. Shooting and missing would also give you the victory point. Either way, both scenarios made him look incompetent.

God, he fucking hated you. 

Suppressing a malicious smile, you antagonize him. The feeling of beating him made your heart race in excitement. “Any day now, Ghost.”

He hated the way you drew his name out like that. The way you so easily said it like it was nothing but air to you. Like bubblegum being blown and popped at your will. His name should’ve struck fear and intimidation. Instead, you chewed on it. Popped bubbles with it. 

Aiming the scope, he lined up his shot, and fired. Watching the bullet carefully, he saw it shoot forth with speed right on the dead center of the target, whip back from the dust devil, and hit sand with an explosion of grain. 

It took everything in him not to fucking leave right then and there. 

“Good shot if you planned on missing. Now, use my focus.” You continued to tease, twisting the knife further into his already wounded pride. There was little snickering coming from his men, Gaz and Soap not being able to contain themselves. They would admit that sometimes your fights were funny. It was a way to cope with the discomfort it brought. 

Silently, Ghost switched on your focus. Out of the side, a small earpiece ejected out. He took it and fitted it into his ear under the mask. Of course, you programmed the artificial instruction with your own voice. Serious, stoic, and purposeful. “Awaiting aim to calculate.”

He aimed once more at the metal target using the scope, the dust devil blowing the sand around violently to protect it at all costs. The scope projected its calculations as if he was staring at a screen. Within a few seconds, it completed its estimations. A green dot appeared way over to the left and bottom of the notches, marking the shooting point. Your voice rang in his ears. “Target confirmed. Aim and fire.”

This seemed way off. There was no way this could be right. Was he really meant to aim so far off? The green dot stayed perfectly in place as he adjusted the aim, his center notch in line with your tech’s mark. He hoped that it would miss.

He fired and watched the bullet sail through the air, ride with the dust devil like a wave, and hit the target with perfection. He became slack-jawed bewildered at the precision. The fact that it could calculate aim with even an extreme factor such as swirling winds was undoubtedly impressive. 

This was your clear victory. And he hated it. 

You relished in his fiery disdain of your genius. A small smirk played at your lips as you saw just how the rage froze his muscles. He looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“God damn, Byte! That was phenomenal!” Soap loudly praised, his eyes wide in true marvel. The others agreed, all wanted a turn to use that focus of yours like it was a new toy. Every invention that you gave them has felt like a new toy. It made those days feel like Christmas morning. You were great at your job and they couldn’t be happier to have you on the team. 

Of course, except for Ghost. Even if your engineering prowess was the best in the world. 

“Really great work, Byte! Are the blueprints all ready to copy?” Kate smiled appreciatively while tapping on her smartpad.

“All ready for production.” You simply answered, proud of the work that you had accomplished. Another one for the books. 

While the boys played with their new toy, Ghost stepped back and crossed his arms angrily. 

He hated everything about you. Your unmatched intellect, your confident plays, your arrogant personality. He hated that his team was wasting money on technology for weapons when a true soldier shouldn’t need the handicap. Real skill was earned by yourself. Not with the assistance of technology. It should be a tool, not a crutch. 

Ghost believed that people who couldn’t aim a sniper on their own and hit a target didn’t deserve to be snipers. And you just made him unworthy of being a sniper when against your tech. 

You looked up at him, taking note of how hard he threw daggers at you. You made him look stupid, and that was your goal. It felt like you had the world in your palm when you did. Someone as respectable as Ghost being bested by a brainiac was always the best. You proved that you didn’t need muscles or height or even intimidation to be better. You just needed your smarts. 

A huff of a laugh escaped you as you turned away from him, knowing that that would just make him even more angry at you. Good. 

You hated everything about him too. 

~

“What you do really is modern magic. Seriously, Byte, how does your brain come up with such things?” Gaz inquired, raising a bottle of beer to his lips. The team decided to celebrate your new invention at the usual bar. Of course, your drinks were on them as a reward. They knew that you put a lot of work into what you did. The least they could do was pay for your rum and cokes. 

You raised the cold glass to your lips, the sweet and spicy cocktail hitting your tastebuds. “The pros of being a genius. Thank you for the praise. It feels nice to be appreciated for my work around here.”

That last past was said a little louder, loud enough to make sure that Ghost could hear it on the other side of the bar. He bit his tongue and rolled his eyes at you, not willing to open himself to any more of your antagonizing today.

The victory was as sweet as the drink you were nursing. Addictive too. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of success. When you finished an invention, when you helped your team complete a mission, or when you bested Ghost, they all gave you that sweet sense of accomplishment. 

Soap slung his arm around your shoulder, nearly causing you to spill. He was already a couple drinks in. “Yeah yeah yeah, good work! But all we ever talk about is work. Been two years, Byte. Tell us what that genius does outside of work, huh?”

You shifted in your seat, becoming a little uncomfortable with the sudden questions about your personal life. They knew tidbits here and there about you. Some failed relationships, favorite songs, distaste for certain foods. But your answer to all of that was usually straight-forward. “We broke up.” “I like this song.” “I’m not going to eat that.”

Something that the team noticed early on was that you were a workaholic. You hung out with them on rare occasions, you were usually confined working in your lab while they had offices, and you usually departed events early to be in said lab. Besides minor details, they really didn’t know much about you outside of your work personality. They have been trying to pull you more out of your shell over time, but it was a slow process. 

Gaz frowned at Soap’s bluntness. “Come on, Johnny, leave her alone tonight.”

“It’s fine, Gaz.” You put your glass down roughly, the clink of the glass on polished wood sobering Soap up pretty quick. It made Gaz look away in shame. That was at least one thing they knew about you most intimately. You hated being treated like you can’t take care of yourself. When they stepped in on your behalf, answering a question that was meant for you, it made you want to hit them. You knew they only did it to protect you. That you were one of them and this is how they treated one of them, but you could never let it be. 

You didn’t need anybody to stand up for you. You will make that a point for forever if you had to. 

The air grew thick with tension as you silently scolded them for hitting one of your pet peeves. With a sigh, you caved in, wanting to restore some of that fun from before. “What do you wanna know? Anything is on the table.”

Soap’s face lit up like a match to a gas station. “Seriously?! Anything?”

You gave a little nod and braced yourself for the worse. Soap’s lack of personal boundaries was quite well known. It was coming from a place of genuine curiosity and ease, never ill-intent. It was just one of the quirks of Soap that you were still coming to terms with even after all this time. 

“Well. . . what’s your sex life like?” 

Gaz began to choke, coughing on beer stuck in his throat. Price tapped his back to help him out, his sharp gaze falling on Soap for such a personal question. Yet, he didn’t say anything. He knew that if he did, you would get angry at him. He has been pretty good about avoiding your pet peeve and he didn’t want to break his streak.

Clearing your throat, you composed yourself. You weren’t expecting such a blatant question either, despite inviting this kind of open question. It didn’t mean that you weren’t going to be honest, though. That just wasn’t the kind of person you were. You never stepped away from a challenge. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Soap grinned widely, happy to talk with you finally like you were just like one of the guys. “Body count? Preferences? All of it. I wanna know what a genius views sex as.”

Slowly, you drank the rest of your rum and coke before signaling for another one. While you hailed the bartender, you noticed that Ghost was staring intensely at you. He hated you, but even he was curious on how anyone could tolerate you enough to sleep with you. 

Once you were halfway through your second drink for some liquid courage, you began to talk about one of the most personal details of your life. “Body count of five. All men. Most were one-night stands or sex-friends.”

You liked sex. There was no question about it. At least, you were interested in it. Despite the amount of people you’ve been with, they always left you wanting more. It was always a little unsatisfying when they were finished. It always felt like there was a black hole inside of you that needed the right meal to be satisfied. 

The exact reason why was no mystery either. Unless you were masturbating alone, you never came. No matter how much time and effort went into foreplay, none of your partners have ever made you orgasm. 

Just because your sex life was active didn’t mean it was great. 

“Wow, that’s a little surprising.” Gaz admitted, finally over his coughing fit. Price shook his head, a little embarrassed to hear about his men talking about sex so freely with you. As a captain to a group of mostly boys, he has shared details with them to bring the group together. It felt a little strange to have you participate in this. Even Kate wasn’t pressured into sharing such details. 

“Our little genius gets some then! How is it? Any experience noteworthy?” Soap persisted as he ordered another round.

“Not especially? Average, I suppose.” You shrugged, answering the questions becoming much easier the more you poured rum and coke into your system. Warmth crept along your cheeks, blossomed in your ribs. You felt yourself opening up like a dormant flower. 

You ordered another drink. Soap continued to pry. “Average? What does that even mean?”

“I never came before.” You suddenly blurted out, the blending of your naturally blunt personality and alcohol turning into a pretty dangerous combination. It seemed like the rum in you was getting to your brain faster than you thought. 

This time, it was Soap’s turn to choke. Gaz was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to comfort your plight. Ghost just stared as if he was watching the news. However, his mind was thinking all sorts of things. He wanted to mock you. Say that that was what you deserved for being so arrogant about your intelligence. He felt the instinct to trash talk you to recover some of the pride he lost today. 

Yet, he couldn’t. In fact, he began to feel a foreign pity for you. If you knew that he was pitying you over something like this, you would absolutely rip him a new one. That didn’t stop his eyes from softening for just a moment, though. A moment that you noticed with those sharp eyes of yours. 

Finishing your drink, you slammed the glass on the counter, nearly shattering it. How dare Ghost look at you like some tragic whore! So what you never orgasmed from sex! You were doing just fine when it came to solo-sex escapades. You didn’t need anyone to satisfy you. You only needed yourself. “I do perfectly fine when I masturbate. Don’t get it twisted. Other people just don’t satisfy me. It’s whatever.”

In a simmering fire, you got up from your chair and left the bar for the night, leaving your teammates wondering what the hell got you so worked up all of a sudden. 

Only Ghost knew the answer to that. 

~

Arriving back on base on your motorcycle, you headed straight to your lab. It was quiet. The dead of night. Everyone else was either back home, sleeping in the barracks, or partying it up downtown. You had an apartment to go back to, but you always found yourself coming here instead. 

Settling your helmet and jacket on the coat-rack, you made yourself at home. Dim-emergency lights softly illuminated unfinished projects on tables. Pieces of wires, circuits, and bolts littered every corner of the room. The place looked small and cramped during the day, scientists and engineers squished together in a lab that was second priority compared to the more athletic-based facilities. In the night when no one was here, the place looked like a tech graveyard. Vast, dark, and cold. 

You headed towards your usual workstation, a large workshop desk that was overflowing with unfinished blueprints of inventions that haven’t panned out just yet. A lot of the struggle came from lack of funding. Some of it came from unrealistic expectations. Science was an investment, something that most military dogs failed to realize. It’s why you always pushed yourself to work constantly and prove what the proper time and resources could bring. 

You were essentially killing yourself in order to make them see the worth of your department. 

Looking through the blueprints, you settled on one that was worth revisiting. A Russian Doll bullet that would save ammunition and materials to build said ammunition. The idea was to invent a bullet that would be compatible with most firearms, shoot an outer layer of bullet without shooting out the inner layer, and repeat until the last of the bullet is gone only to be replaced by another Russian Doll bullet. 

It would effectively turn a six-shooter into a twenty-four. It would save so much ammo and save many soldiers the reload time. 

The only problem you haven’t solved yet was the instability of gunpowder. 

That’s what you decided to work on tonight. Taking a seat in your worn out swivel chair, you opened your drawers and pulled out your materials. Bringing a magnifying glass close to you, you began to disassemble a few bullets. It was always a good idea to build things by first taking things apart. 

As you worked, you heard the sound of the lab door open. It was still much too early for the morning crew to come in, so you wondered who it could’ve been. Maybe Price had come to lecture you about how you left things at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to talk to you about your temper. 

Turning around, you were surprised to meet your rival, peering over all of the electronic corpses on the tables. He didn’t come here very often. You were always here after all. He knew you were always here. He shivered, noticing just how chilly it was inside the lab. The air conditioning was running on full blast. “Feels like a meat-locker in here. How can you work like this?”

“What do you want?” You sharply retorted, nerves already on edge at his presence. The lab was supposed to be your refuge. Your paradise. And here came the snake. 

“Relax. I’m not here to fight. I just wanted to talk to you about the focus.” He treaded carefully, his own instincts waiting to fire off like they were used to when he was with you. A lightbulb in his head just went off just then. He realized just how bad the relationship between the two of you was since his first real instinct was to yell at you. Ghost knew you felt it too. 

He was supposed to be the 141’s Lieutenant. He was supposed to bring the team together for his captain. And here he has been for two years, trying to push you out. 

Ghost has never even approached you without the intention to fight or yell or demand since the first day he met you.

Christ, was there any recovery from this? Ghost took a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully for once. “The focus is great. You did a good job.”

“Don’t fucking pity me.” You snapped, turning back to your desk and igniting sparks as you bonded metal with heat. A hurricane brewed in your chest. Did he seriously come all this way to pity you? The gaze in his eyes should have been enough. It made you leave the bar!

Ghost felt that fire rising in his throat, wanting to say something back that would hurt you. Old habits die hard. It was a tough pill to swallow. “I’m not trying to pity you. The focus is going to help a lot of soldiers. It’s going to save a lot of people.”

You paused, unsure if his words were genuine or misleading. You’ve fallen into that trap before, hearing what seemed like a compliment only for it to be backhanded. It was unfortunate that you didn’t trust a word that came out of his mouth. “Why did you look at me like that at the bar?”

He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he wished he didn’t. He didn’t really want to talk about your sex life when it was just the two of you. Especially not when the two of you haven’t even had one decent interaction with each other. Goosebumps prickled all of his skin, his teeth nearly chattering. How could you keep it so fucking cold in here?

“I felt sorry for you.” He admitted, finding himself unable to lie to you or change topics. At least from the beginning, he has always been honest with you. 

As you heard the words you loathed to hear, you put down your tools, hands becoming too shaky to handle them with all the rage storming inside you. “I-”

“I felt sorry that no one has liked you enough to satisfy you.” 

Well, that didn’t exactly sound right.

Your mouth opened in shock at his dig. His eyes widened as he heard the words coming out of his mouth, realizing that it sounded completely fucking wrong. He held his hands up in defense, scrambling to explain himself before it was too late. 

The hurricane was in full swing, though. But instead of bringing thunder, it only brought rain. The corners of your eyes prickled with tears before streaming down your flushed cheeks. A lump choked in your throat choked the air out of you. You thought you could say something hurtful back. You always did before. But this time, his words cut a little too deep.

None of your relationships have lasted long. Not even with people you agreed to just be sex-friends with. They always ended up leaving. Whenever you asked what went wrong, they always blamed it on your demeanor. Your personality was too particular. Your interests were too complex. Your high expectations were too much. 

It was one of the reasons you kept a distance from the 141. They loved your company as far as you knew. But only in small doses. Who knew what would happen if they really spent time with you? They would probably get sick of you over time too. Ghost hated you since day one after all. 

No one liked you. You thought that you were fine with that at this point, but clearly you weren’t.

Ghost stood frozen in time, completely taken aback by your sudden tears. He expected screaming. He expected hitting. He expected icy retorts. That’s all he has ever known you as. He never in a million years expected tears. 

It made him feel like he was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know what to do about it. 

All of his years of hatred for you melted away as he watched you crumble, your distrust for him putting up more walls between the two of you. Jesus, how does he fix this now?!

“Byte, I-”

“Don’t you think I already know that no one likes me? You think you’re the first person to hate my guts?!” You spat, some of the lightning finally coming out. The tears kept coming, but it was somehow better for Ghost. He felt more used to that dangerous spark you had. It made you easier to approach now. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Poor choice of words. Honest. I just meant that. . . I . . . Everyone deserves to be loved enough to the point of satisfaction. You work hard and give us countless advancements to use. You deserved to be satisfied. You deserve to have someone that will put the work into you too.” He finally managed to find the right words, nearly running out of breath with all the effort he had to find them. He was never really good at heart-to-hearts. 

You looked at him in shock once more as he attempted to salvage the hurt he caused you. This was beyond confusing for you. Your brain that worked so hard everyday, that could think up a million things at any given time, was at a loss for words. 

In your uncertainty, you followed your instincts. And that was to turn back around to your desk, wipe your eyes, and get back to work. It was the only constant in your life that you could rely on. The best way to think. 

Ghost didn’t blame you for returning to work. He probably wouldn’t know what to say either if it was him. Instead of pushing it any further, he decided that it was probably best to leave. Before he headed out of the lab, he turned back and looked at you. 

You did the same, the moment of work gracing your senses. In the end, he did try to pay you a genuine compliment. You were always the type to reciprocate fairly. “Thanks, Ghost.”

There was a certain way you said your thanks that made Ghost’s heart skip a beat. A sense of gentleness that he’s never heard from you before. The way your eyes shone bright from leftover tears had him stunned. Were your eyes always that pretty?

He turned quickly and left, the back of his neck heating from the intrusive thought he just had. As he walked back to the barracks, he sighed. The air outside was much warmer than the environment of your lab. So much easier to breathe. It felt suffocating being in there. Out here, he could let his mind relax.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. 

~

The two of you didn’t fight as much anymore. Sharp words slipped out every now and then, but neither of you kept feeding the fire once they were said. Most of the time, you two were just back to avoiding each other. Though, the both of you had your own reasons. 

You found yourself just at a loss of words when he was civil. It was that distrust that still lingered that made it hard for you to interact with him. It was especially difficult to be around him when he was actively being polite. Praises for your work, helping you carry heavy boxes across base, or prioritizing processing your submitted paperwork was always done either curtly or in silence. It was foreign to you.

And the energy you saved now that it wasn’t spent on fighting was now put to use by noticing him a little more. You always couldn’t help but stop and stare as he helped carry equipment with you from the lab to the armory. The way his biceps flexed with ease at the heavier load. The way his eyes remained stoic even as he embraced your inventions. Ghost was now more on your mind than ever, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Ghost, on the other hand, was now always thinking about you. He felt the urge to get closer to you. To get to know you better. To help you out in a way that didn’t look down on you like he’s always done. He couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes too. How bright they were under the sun or moon. How they watched him under such careful supervision, trying to decipher if his good will was real or not. 

Even in moments where he didn’t want to think about you, he found his mind wandering anyway. Ever since that night in the lab, he felt his feelings change. Two years of anger and resentment for you have nearly melted all away only to be replaced by something else. And he didn’t know how to explain it. 

All he could do was try to keep cool. Remain civil. Avoid too close of interactions with you. 

It was working for the both of you for months until you were assigned to a mission together.

The team had noticed that the both of you were getting along in the loosest sense of the term. They wondered what caused such a shift, but they never asked out of fear of resetting the apparent progress. Instead, Price tried to push more progress by assigning the both of you to work an undercover mission. 

A wealthy investor of nuclear weaponry was suddenly pouring a lot more money than usual into a country with a rising dictator. The investments coincided with less threatening ideas such as climate change prevention and DNA study in order to balance out interest. The goal was to detain this investor, question him about his relationship with this dictator, and then hopefully stop a dangerous man from getting his hands on advanced nuclear power. 

The way in was at a formal event promoted by the science community. Conservationists, biologists, engineers, and more were going to be present to try to win over some other wealthy investors that would be there including celebrities, CEOs, and politicians. It was a high brow event which made the need for scientific knowledge apparent. 

And who knew more about such science than you?

Intimidation invitations in hand, Ghost waited in a hotel lobby, a crisp, black tuxedo hugging his form as if tailored to him. The skull balaclava was swapped with a simple black face mask, covering enough of his identity which made him feel better about all of this. Looking at a nearby mirror, he checked his blonde hair. He’s never dressed so formally in his life. 

He suddenly wondered if you would like it. 

You still need a moment to get ready, always one to check twice to make sure you had everything you need. Your heart raced in your chest, your nerves tingling with adrenaline as you prepared to see this mission through. You’ve been on the field a couple of times. Never under-cover. The fact that you would probably have to do most of the talking made you nervous. 

People didn’t like you. That weakness of yours was clouding your confidence. Being a woman in science was already a tough world. Would you be able to keep your personality in check if you faced such a conflict?

Nervously, you headed down to the lobby, adjusting every dress each step of the way down. When you spotted Ghost from a distance, you froze. You have never seen him so cleaned up before. When you were coming down, you half expected him to appear like he always has. Military uniform, skull mask, strapped with obvious weapons. 

You didn’t know that his hair was so. . . 

Finding yourself at a loss for words again, you steeled yourself. As you got closer, you realized that your heart was racing for an entirely new reason. Your lieutenant was much more attractive than you thought. 

And he was technically your date for tonight.

Ghost caught your figuring in the corner of the mirror, making him turn around. Time stood still for you once again as you appeared before him looking like someone straight out of a romance movie. Your dress hugged your curves in all the right places, every strand of hair was styled beautifully to frame your face, makeup only highlighted just how beautiful you naturally were. 

How could he never see just how beautiful you were before?

You walked closer and cleared your throat, that voice he thought was so annoying before now sounding like the sweetest violin. “Lieutenant, you look good this evening.”

This was the first compliment he’s ever received from you. It made his stomach do flips. What was happening to him? Pull it together!

“Thanks. You look great tonight. Ready?” He offered his arm, waiting for you to take it. 

Your heart could barely take it as you looped your arm around his, touching him so intimately for the first time. Heat radiated from his body. The biceps you found yourself staring at before felt solid under your touch. You looked up into his eyes, the glacier blues melting into a deep ocean. Looking away suddenly, you attempted to hide your blush. He was looking at you so intensely that it startled you.

“Do you have to stare?” You questioned a little too sharply than you intended. You braced yourself for him to say something equally sharp, something Ghost felt in your arm that was hooked around his. 

He averted his gaze, now conscious of the way his eyes naturally followed you. His mind searched for an explanation for his lack of discretion. The unexplainable pull that you had on him. Jesus, it was like he was. . . 

Oh. Oh no.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, trying to keep his feelings in check. How could he spend two years praying for your downfall to all of a sudden being-

He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t even want to entertain the likely possibility. Even if he wanted to act on his feelings, did he really deserve to after all the fighting for two years? You would probably never truly accept him after all the things he’s said and done. You weren’t completely innocent either, but Ghost had to face the fact that he was the one that started it all. Before even knowing your name, he insulted you, unable to keep his opinion on tech in weapons in check. A matter that wasn’t even your fault to begin with. 

What the hell was wrong with him back then? What the hell is even wrong with him now?

“Hey, Earth to Ghost. You okay?” You asked, noticing how he seemed to be just staring into space as they waited for the car to pick them up. There was a brightness in the night, a rain having just finished its pour. Puddles on the ground reflected the city’s lampposts, cars flashed their lights, and much to Ghost’s dismay and pleasure, your eyes shined replaced the stars. 

His voice was deep and agitated, more so upset with himself than with you. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”

At that you smirked that devilish smile that he hasn’t seen in a while. It pissed him off to no end before, but now it made his heart flutter. “Wow. The great Lieutenant Ghost has nerves. Never thought I’d hear that. Makes me feel a lot better, though.”

“And why is that?” He inquired carefully, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

You shrugged, actually starting to feel at ease for the first time in his presence. The butterflies were still there. They were just much more manageable now. “I am nervous as well.”

Before he could question you further, the designated car pulled up in front of the hotel. Gaz, parading as the chauffeur for tonight, got out of the car and held open the passenger door for the both of you to get in. Soap wanted to do this job, but Price refused. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to shut his mouth if he saw the two of you together like this. Gaz at least had a filter.

He played the role to a tee, onlookers staring as he took off his hat and bowed. “Good evening. You both look dashing tonight. Especially our lady.”

The cover was working smoothly. Together, they really looked like A-list people. The civilians would have never guessed that they were all just soldiers. Drinking in their looks, you let it replenish your confidence. You got into the car followed by Ghost, Gaz shutting the door once everyone was settled. As he drove to the venue, he went over the mission details. 

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you the entire time. We have access to all the venue’s cameras and we have mics hidden throughout the building. Some security is our own too to keep an eye on things. This place will be packed full of civilians, so violence must be kept to a minimum. Non-existent preferably. If anything does go wrong that we don’t notice, use the codeword.”

You nodded at all of the information that will keep you safe, reading the mission file to brush up on before the big show started. Ghost looked over your shoulder, also reading the file once again. Mostly though, he noticed how intensely you studied. You didn’t want to be the reason why this mission failed. You couldn’t afford that. 

When the car slowed in front of the venue, you looked out. At least a hundred people were outside, dressed to the nines, ready to spend their money or ask for money. Your blood suddenly became cold as you looked at all the people. There must have been hundreds more inside.

Gaz parked the car and stepped out, getting ready to open the door for you. However, you were a statue. Unmoving. There was panic in your eyes. You looked the part for this. Could you talk the part too?

A warm, large hand landed on your shoulder, gaining your attention. Ghost looked at you with steady eyes, his tone slow and soft as honey. “You got this, Byte. You’re probably smarter than everyone here. I’m right by your side too.”

It was relieving hearing those words come from him. He was encouraging you like he was your lieutenant. Like you were part of his team. Your heart swelled as you looked into the eyes you’ve been trying to avoid. It looked like he was finally seeing you after all this time. 

With a deep breath and a new steely expression, you nodded to Gaz through the window. He opened the door and Ghost stepped out first. You took the hand he offered you and came out, the buzz of intellectual conversation in the air. 

Gaz drove off, leaving the mission to the two of you. Ghost led the way up, your arm in his like it was always meant to be there. Miraculously, the two of you looked like the ideal date. It made getting into the venue easy as Ghost handed over the invitations to the guard at the entrance. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Have a fun night!”

The both of you couldn’t help but blush at the shared name. To be referred to as Mrs. Riley gave you ideas that you never thought you would think about. It strangely had a nice ring to it that made your senses prick up. 

Ghost thought the same thing as he guided you in. Tonight, you were Mrs. Riley, his beautiful and intelligent wife. 

The two years of hating each other seemed to feel farther away as the night stretched on. 

The marble floors were packed with esteemed guests. Large, crystal chandeliers reflected off gold jewelry and champagne glasses. A live orchestra played with precise rhythm. Everyone mingled, trying to see where the best place to put their money was. Likewise, scientists tried to advocate for their foundations. All of the talk made Ghost’s head swirl. He was used to undercover missions, however, this was truly out of his realm. 

You were better at picking up the jargon. They spoke a language you understood. The language that only the people in the lab on base understood. It was like hearing your native tongue after years of speaking foreignly. Military culture and science culture was so different, that you often missed this. 

A couple approached the two of you, led by a middle-aged woman with a large, diamond necklace and fake lilies in her hair. “Aren’t you two the most adorable couple! I must compliment you on your gown too!”

This was it. This was their test to look like a real couple out as each other’s dates. You put on a fake smile and held out your hand. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m Mrs. (Y/n) Riley. This is my husband.”

The name slid easily off your tongue, yet it sent electricity through you. There was no way you were going to get used to that name tonight. It made you feel lightheaded when you said it. How could you get so embarrassed by a fake name?

Ghost was having trouble getting used to it too, a part of him wishing that the name was real against his will. Clenching his jaw, he looked out at the crowd, trying to spot the target. His large height helped, but there were too many people around. They all crowded around each other. Talking, laughing, flaunting. A slight tug on his arm brought his attention back to you. You were just sending the lady on her way after a simple, pleasant conversation. Through that, you were able to figure out if the target has shown up yet. 

“Let’s go to the main ballroom. According to the recent intel, our target would be there if he’s shown up. Something about him not being able to resist a shrimp cocktail.” You directed, your confidence becoming stronger as you weaved through the crowd. Ghost couldn’t help but take in your courage, finding it hard to believe that you were once nervous. Then again, this was your crowd.

The ballroom floor was also filled with people, but also now with clear advertisements from scientists. Small signs indicated programs with their representatives, helping investors find the right place to put their money in. You read the signs carefully, recognizing a few of them along with who was supposed to be running it. At some of the names, you grimaced. 

“You alright?” Ghost asked, trying to keep his own expression solid as if he was playing poker. He found himself worrying about you now that you looked so pained. 

You shook your head, trying to clear unpleasant memories as best as you can. “I’m fine. I just. . . I hope I don’t run into any ex-colleagues.”

As if the devil was listening himself, you heard your name being called from afar, a surprised tone countering the determined piano filling the room. “Y/n? Is that really you?!”

Putting on your game face, you smiled and turned towards your former colleague and, unfortunately, ex-lover. Of course, this was going to happen. Almost always one thing goes wrong during a mission. A part of you wished you didn’t accept this mission now that you were face-to-face with someone you tried to leave in the past. 

“Dr. Emmanuel. It has been a long time.” You greeted politely, taking extra time to keep your tone in check. The last time you spoke to him was during the breakup. He dumped you after a quarrel about a missing blueprint. You were working on a project together when you were both interns at a scientific space-engineering facility. The blueprint was supposed to help the both of you land permanent positions, but it was made clear that there was only room for one. 

When you heard the news, you both agreed that neither of you would take credit until you talked to the head of the facility. That was, until the blueprint went missing. From there, you fought and accused him of taking the blueprint for himself to get the job. Your hunch was right when you saw the new employee ID card he hid in his wallet. 

You called him a traitor. He called you deplorable. You claimed that most of the blueprint was your design. He reasoned that if you had the job, you would neglect him anyways with your workaholic nature. He then dropped the bomb that he hated working with you, that you made him feel insecure in bed with your inability to orgasm with him, and that you were just becoming into someone he loathed with your particular personality. He accused you of not loving him enough.

So he took the credit and ran, leaving you to figure out what the hell you were going to do about a job. That’s when you decided to join the military as a weapons engineer. Some time after, you joined the 141. 

“It has been some time, hasn’t it? I’m surprised to see you here? Are you here as a scientist or an investor?” Your ex inquired, sizing you up as someone to take advantage of or as competition for investors. You knew his game and you knew it well. You only had to learn the hard way once before you learned your lesson. You never made the same mistake twice. 

Ghost noticed how your expression hardened, yet you maintained that fake, pearly smile. What was this man to you? How did you know each other? 

Why did he care so much?

“He is the investor and I am the scientist. This is my husband, Mr. Riley.” You announced, now saying the word “husband” with your full chest. Your ex’s eyes widened briefly before twisting into a smile that showed hints of disgust. 

Nonetheless, he held out his hand for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riley. It is an honor meeting a man that could tame such a work-driven woman.”

Before you could shoot back some venomous words that were bubbling up on your tongue, Ghost took his hand and gripped it tight with that soldier strength of his. Your ex seemed distraught as pain shot through his hand that was being crushed. Ghost didn’t let up. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t look down at my wife, doctor. I love her just the way she is. I’m sure she has accomplished much more than you as well.”

“Now, if you will excuse us, we have better things to talk about with other people.” Ghost finally let go, bruises already starting to form on the crushed hand of your ex. While you normally would pop off at him for standing up for you when you could’ve done so yourself, you were too busy thinking about his words. The L-bomb he dropped seemed to flow so naturally from him. It made you feel flustered. 

As Ghost led you away, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. He took your flustered expression as you being upset. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were upset with him or your ex-colleague. He knew he triggered your pet-peeve and he wanted to apologize. For now, though, he had to settle with a raincheck. “We’ll talk about that later. Do you see our target yet?”

You snapped back into action, being reminded that you have a mission to accomplish above all else. Looking around, you tried to spot the target. As predicted, there he was, gorging himself on shrimp and champagne. “10 o’clock.”

He looked over and confirmed. “Target spotted. Good eye. Ready?”

Taking a few deep breaths to reset your brain, you nodded. Swiftly, the both of you approach the target just as he was taking another flute from a silver tray. You changed your serious demeanor into a more graceful one. Someone worth giving money to. Someone that the target will like. “Mr. Marston. I was hoping to finally meet you tonight. I am Y/n Riley. This is my husband. You are such an inspiration to both scientists and investors.”

“Ha! A couple of fans with good taste! A pleasure to meet such a handsome couple! I’ve been in the business for a long time though, so I know you must want something. Can’t pull the wool over these eyes, even if they are old.” He laughed cheerfully as he raised more alcohol to his lips. 

It seemed that this would be easier than you thought. People like Mr. Marston made you sick. People with way too much time and money on their hands to shape the world as they saw fit, regardless of the good of the people. Nuclear war would be a disaster. And yet, this man treated it as lightly as the glass in his hand. Careless. Spilling over with each movement. Such a fragile thing away from one wrong move before shattering into a hundred pieces. 

“With age comes experience and wisdom. I am a scientist looking for an investor. Though my studies tend to be a little. . . unconventional.” You buttered him up before casting your line. All he had to do was take the bait.

And that he did. His eyebrows rose with interest at your choice of words. He felt his wallet burning a hole in his pocket. “Unconventional, you say? Well, I am all for out-of-the-box solutions to our world’s problems. Care to elaborate on your odd studies?”

You looked up at Ghost, awaiting some sort of signal that you may proceed with luring the target to where you needed him to be. He gave a single nod, disguising it as full support for his lovely wife. You were handling this much better than he expected. Or perhaps, this is how you always were under pressure. His judgment was always just too clouded with contempt to see it. 

“We would love to talk about our project, but such a thing is rather sensitive in nature. I would hate to upset some over-hearers. Perhaps we shall meet later once the formal is over?” You played cautiously, not yet reeling in such a loose bite. 

“Oh my, now you really have my interest! There are a few study spaces at this venue reserved for investors and scientist contract negotiations. I haven’t committed to any facility yet, so why don’t I start with reviewing you? What do you say?”

Hook, line, and sinker. “That would be most ideal, Mr. Marston. Just lead the way.”

Grabbing a few shrimps to go, the target led the way to a more private area of the venue. Everything was smooth, all according to plan. The crowd parted away for the richest investor here, making the exit quite swift. Once the three of you separated from the main event down to a much quieter room, Ghost detained him with cuffs. A button on his watch was pressed, signaling to the team that the target was in custody. 

“Wh-What?! What is all this now?!” Mr. Marston protested, hoping that someone would come to his rescue. 

“Lieutenant Ghost and Sargent Byte. You are being taken into military custody for involvement with nuclear investments. We just need to ask you some questions.” You explained carefully, trying to keep the target calm so you didn’t attract unwanted attention. Cool, calm, and collected. Ghost thought it was a good look on you. You weren’t normally involved like this, so he couldn’t help but think so. 

He had it worse than he thought. Seriously, what was with him?

While Ghost took his hands off the target for a moment to reach for his phone, feeling an incoming message, the target swirled around and tried to bolt. Not in the direction of an exit, though. Instead, he was running straight to you, binded fists raised to strike you. Thanks to your self-defense classes through the military, you acted on pure instinct. You dodged his fists and struck his jugular with a sharp strike of the side of your hand. He gasped for air and collapsed, tears streaming down his face as if he would die from the loss of oxygen. 

Ghost’s attraction to you increased tenfold as you nonchalantly fixed your dress like a meager wind just caused only slight agitation. He forgot just how capable you could be physically, not just intellectually.

Right on time, Price waltzed in wearing his common military uniform. He didn’t even bat an eye at the struggling target. “Transportation is outside. Well done, you two! It was about time you worked together on something. I hope to see more of this in the future!” 

You made some distance between you and Ghost, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. For some reason, it pained Ghost to see you put up that wall again so soon after the mission. Was this the first and last time you would get along so well with him?

No, he decided. He told you that he would speak to you later about the interaction with Emmanuel. Then, he would knock your walls down. Finally get to know the real you.

From there, we can really determine if his feelings were just a fluke or not. 

~

You were back at the hotel, wiping your makeup off and stripping yourself out of the formal dress. Your muscles ache at the new freedom, having been fed up with such a fitted dress and heels. After showering and putting on some pajamas, you got into bed and began to read. You were rewarded for your work with a one-night’s stay at the luxury hotel, and you were taking full advantage of it. 

After reading, you were going to order hotel service and then go to bed. The life of luxury that was more than enough for you. As you began reading the next chapter of your book, you heard a knock at the door. Sighing, you bookmarked your page, and answered it. You were surprised to see Ghost standing there, smelling like fresh maplewood and citrus soap. A plain shirt clung to his torso and pajama pants made him look like a new man altogether. He had his black facemask on still, but once he let himself in, he took it off. 

This was the first time you have ever seen his full face uncovered. You noticed the small scar on his upper lip that matched the one on his right brow. His jaw was strong as if chiseled from marble. You couldn’t deny it. Ghost was a very attractive man.

“Sorry to barge in like this. I said we were going to talk, so here I am.” He explained, taking a seat on the edge of your king bed. He was drinking you in too. The pajama shorts that showed off your thighs, the cami that exposed your delicate shoulders. Your hair was still damp and scented with lavender and vanilla. His heart picked up speed as he felt a pull of attraction to you. 

How could he have ever hated a beautiful thing like you?

You found it a little rude that he just barged in, but you let it slide for once. From his tone, he didn’t seem like he wanted to fight. Besides, those deep blues were starting to melt your icy heart little by little. Just for tonight.

You took a seat on the bed next to him and looked up. “What is there to talk about? He’s just a man from my past.”

At that, he felt his muscles tense. He knew that there was more to the story. Ghost detected your evasion of the subject as clear as day. It was something he experienced nearly every day before this. He knew your tell. “I know it wasn’t just that. What he said, how you looked. What happened?”

Out of all people, you least expected Ghost to hound you about this. He has never been interested in your personal life before. Then again, your relationship has changed dramatically since the night in the lab. Before you knew it, you started to feel yourself open up to him a little. 

You stared down into your lap. “He’s an ex. We were interns together, he took all the credit for a project we did, he got a job, and I didn’t. He insulted me, dumped me, and then left. I left to work in the military. That’s really all there is to it.”

While your tone tried to keep it casual, Ghost knew it was really a tragedy. No wonder you didn’t trust easily. Now he wished he broke that guy’s hand when he had the chance. 

Did he really have room to talk though? He made you distrust people even more easily when he first met you. It was about time he apologized for it all. “Listen, Y/n. I’m sorry. About everything. For the two years of fighting. All the insults, all the exclusion. Everything. I should have been a better teammate, lieutenant, and even friend to you. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say, a new trick of his that seemed to have worked time and time again. The tick of a classic clock filled the silence as you thought about his apology. The sound of him using your real name echoed in your ears. You blamed him for everything that transpired. And now he was sorry about it. Yet, the way he looked at you didn’t indicate the need for forgiveness. He wasn’t entitled to it, and he knew that. Instead, his gaze was filled with certainty. The certainty to do much better by you from now on. 

Two years to lead up to this moment. You never thought you would live to see the day. Just like him, you slowly found your rage for him melt down to almost nothing, instead to be replaced by something soft, warm, and electric. 

You gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry too. I know I can be pretty unlikable.”

“You’re not unlikable.” He reassured, his hand naturally taking your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life. Ghost didn’t even realize that he did it at first. And before he knew it, he was going in for a kiss, unable to resist those pretty lips of yours for a moment longer. 

Your cheeks began to burn as he kissed you so suddenly, yet you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. Something was pulling you deeper into him. A passion that was always there from the beginning. Hate or love, you have always been passionate about Ghost. Maybe that was why you truly hated him in the first place. 

Ghost couldn’t stop himself, deepening the kiss with each second that passed, reveling in how sweet you tasted on his lips. He’s been obsessed with you since the beginning. A fire within him had always burned for you. He just wished he realized that it was actually love much sooner. Perhaps if he did, you really would’ve been Mrs. Riley tonight. 

All the things he hated about you before were things he loved about you now. Your soft lips, your silky hair, your amazing intellect. All of the things that he could never match. You were better than him. However, he didn’t care anymore. He actually appreciated it now. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am.” He whispered as he pulled you closer, wrapping you in his embrace. You felt his firm muscles against you so much better now than before, the shirt he was wearing leaving little to the imagination with how fitted it was. 

It honestly turned you on. 

You took the initiative to reconnect your lips, your mouth opening to invite his tongue. Nerves fired off in every inch of your skin as his slick tongue met yours. Your toes curled as he felt you up, groping your thighs and waist like they would disappear any moment. His hands felt so good on you that you shivered, yearning for more. 

Things were getting out of control, but Ghost didn’t care. Tonight, he wanted you more than he has ever wanted anything from you. To appreciate all the things he was too stupid to notice before. You were sexy beyond belief. Always have been. When you were working over your desk with such a focused look, when you were gloating about your new invention, when you demonstrated a new gun so naturally in perfect stance. 

His pants tightened as his erection grew strong with each taste of your tongue. His hands roamed into your hair, gripping slightly to pull you closer. The both of you moaned when you ended up grinding against his hard cock. Once you got a taste for that, you couldn’t stop. Your hips grinded into his, sending earthquakes of pleasure through you. You could feel your panties get damper each minute as the makeout became even hotter and heavier. It wasn’t helping that it has been a while since the last time you had sex. It made you feel more sensitive than usual.

Finally, Ghost flipped you around and settled you back on the bed. He has never been so turned on in his life and you were the one doing this to him. 

There was something he needed to make clear first, though.

“I’m going to make you cum.” He promised, flashing you a determined look that had you weak. 

You blushed and averted your gaze, your voice low. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll do it. No matter how long it takes. I’m going to be the first man to make you cum tonight.” He reassured, gladly ignoring your warnings as he leaned down to kiss your lips again. As he took control of your tongue, his hands began to explore your skin under the shirt. You were unbelievably soft under his fingertips, delicate from your lack of experience on a battlefield. He now loved that about you. You didn’t need to be in the throws of battle to be part of the team. 

“You’re so soft, you know that?” He praised, deep rumbles of his voice making your brain turn into mush as it entered your ears. His kisses traveled to them, making you shiver uncontrollably as he softly bit down. 

He chuckled, a sound that was once always reserved for his male teammates unless he was making fun of you. Now, they teased you so pleasantly that your breath hitched. “Someone’s ears are sensitive. You like having them played with?”

Just as you were about to answer, he slid his hand up to touch your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you jump. “Ahh~! Ghost!”

“Call me Simon.” He demanded, yearning for the sound of his real name coming from you. It would be the first time you would call him by his real name. 

You played with it in your head, noting how foreign it felt just sitting on your tongue. Nonetheless, you gave him what he wanted. “S-Simon. . .”

“Again.” He encouraged, suppressing a shiver that traveled down his spine. It was like getting a dose of the sweetest drug. Fireworks exploding in his chest. He loved how his name sounded on your lips. 

“Simon. . .” You sighed as he peppered kisses all over your neck. Your cami was now raised up to reveal your chest, kisses traveling further and further down to taste all of you. As much as Simon wanted to fuck you already right then and there, he had a promise to keep. He had to take it slow and let it build up. He had to make you cum first.

He took a stiff nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around before taking it between his teeth in a gentle bite. His other hand twisted your other nub between his fingers. The way he tweaked them hard sent waves of pleasure through you, all the way down to your cunt that was still soaking your panties. It felt so good to have him touch you like this. You wanted more. 

Arching your back, you took your top off completely. Simon followed suit, stripping off his shirt and trailing his kisses down your stomach. As he felt your stomach on his lips, he buried his face deep into it. To think that he could’ve had this so much sooner if he was just nice to you from the beginning. “So soft. . .”

You squirmed a little under his slow, deep kisses to your body. No one has ever taken this much time on you before. All foreplay was pretty exclusive to your breasts or cunt with your previous partners. Simon was taking the time to appreciate your whole body. It felt so intimate. “Simon. . ?”

God, he loved it when you said his name. “Y/n?”

You were starting to like the sound of your name coming from him too. A blush swept across your cheeks. “You can be a little rougher.”

He smirked, this time making you tremble in excitement rather than rage. “Is that what you like? You like it a little rough?”

“I like the firmer sensation. Nothing too crazy.” You elaborated, always one to speak your mind even in a moment like this. If you were going to have sex with Simon Riley, if he wanted to make you cum, information like this was important.

Simon hummed against your skin, his hands working to pull off your pants. The vibrations made you sigh. Once your shorts and panties were off, he settled himself between your legs. Your dripping cunt was such a pretty sight. Pink, wet, and sweet. He bit the inside of your thigh, making you gasp in pleasure. “Like that? Is this what your previous partners did to you?” 

“N-No. . .” You admitted. Your previous partners never really listened to what you liked even if you told them straight-forwardly. At least not enough to get you to tremble like Simon did. It seemed like the man you hated before was really the best so far in bed. 

“Good. Their loss.” He murmured, biting down on your thighs soon after and leaving a deep love-bite. You bit your lower lip and whimpered, the sensation sending shockwaves. Simon kept going further and further down on you, relishing each time you moaned and quivered. He wanted more. He wanted to make you scream.

His lips latched onto your swollen clit, biting it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. He tasted your nectar on his tongue, a taste that instantly made him addicted to it. You arched your back and grabbed his hair suddenly, silky soft strands feeling nice between your fingers. 

Just like he wanted, you moaned his name over and over again. His tongue kept lathering your clit firmly and with even strokes. Fingers prodded at your opening, spreading your wetness all over you until he was able to put two of his fingers inside. God, you were tight. 

“Ahh~! Right there, Simon!” You encouraged, your ability to speak your mind unwavering. Simone found that insanely attractive as he pushed his fingers in further and curled right at that spongy spot that was driving you crazy. His teeth pulled at your folds before being soothed with his tongue. Your clit twitched as he pressed his tongue up against it once more, all the while pumping his fingers into your soaked pussy. 

Your grip on his hair got tighter as he kept pushing you to the edge. The sensation made his own cock twitch under his clothes, making him press it up against the mattress to grind into. He wished it was your pussy he was grinding into already, but you were so close. He could feel it. You could feel it. 

He didn’t stop his pace. Strong, even, and slow. You tightened around his fingers each second, feeling the wave approach closer and closer. You could already tell that this was going to be a big one. Your first orgasm with a partner ever. 

Tilting your head back, you moaned louder and louder. You begged for more and more, praying to a god that Simon wasn’t just going to leave you hanging. Now that would be pure evil. The worst thing he could ever do to you. But he didn’t. He just kept nipping, sucking, biting, and licking to the point that your head was spinning. 

Before you could warn him, your vision saw white and you screamed. Simon could feel you suck in his fingers so tight that he smiled as he still landed kisses on your clit. Your legs trembled, aching to close or kick out the electricity that coarse through you. Your cum was spilling everywhere. All over his fingers down to his wrist, coating your thighs in a sweet glaze. 

While you tried to catch your breath, Simon licked up every drop. “How was that? Everything you thought it would be?

You looked down to see his eyes ablaze with victory and a sexy smirk on his lips. You sighed and nodded. “Credit where credit is due. That was really good.”

“Good. Because you’re not done yet.” He decided, already stripping off his pajama pants to reveal his rock hard erection. He was bigger than you expected, all that shit talk for two years making you believe that he was making up for something. But he was blessed with the girth, the length, and the look that you knew would be amazing.

He positioned himself between your legs, coating his length with your slick. Shivers started again as the tip rubbed against your clit. The both of you sighed, enjoying each other’s bodies to the fullest extent.

Suddenly, Simon pushed all of his cock into you, bottoming out within a second. You gripped the sheets tight in your fist as you cried out. He stretched you out so pleasurably, so fully. You’ve never felt so full in your sex life. 

Simon hissed as you clenched around him. “Fucking hell, you’re so tight. . .”

Slowly, he began to move. Long even strokes that rubbed every inch of you and him. As he looked down at you, face twisting into such a pleasurable expression, eyes only on him, he heard his heart beat in his ears. God damn, you were gorgeous. 

Your eyes widened as he came down for a kiss, his tongue taking full control while his hips remained steady. The sudden rush of the kiss and his cock reaching deeper made you scratch at his shoulders. He was eating up all of your moans like candy. 

“F-Fuck~! Simon, wait!” You begged, the sensation getting overwhelming with each deep thrust. He could feel you getting tighter. Wetter. He knew that you were getting close to another orgasm, and he wasn’t going to stop for a second.

He sat up and pushed your legs down by your thighs, spreading you wide open and making you take all of him as deep as you can. You clawed his hands as your climax approached even faster, Simon ignoring all of your cries for him to wait. The sounds of your wet sex echoed in the room along with your sensual moans, causing you to get even more aroused. Christ, his cock was so good!

You were plunged into an orgasm, your whole body quaking as you arched and screamed it out. Simon felt your pussy wrap tightly around him, trying to take everything from him before he was ready. It was dizzying how good your insides felt coiling around him. He loved how you soaked his dick and crotch full with your hot cum. 

Simon grabbed your thighs tight, squeezing hard and clenching his teeth while he tried to stop himself from climaxing too soon. He wanted to stretch this night out for as long as he could.

While you settled down from your second orgasm, you gazed up at Simon who was struggling to keep himself together. You lifted your arms and touched his strong, muscular chest that was shimmering in sweat. You could feel how hard his heart was beating under your fingertips. You could feel him twitch hard inside you, aching to fuck you again. Your body was weak, though. You didn’t know if you could last for much longer. Every nerve in your body felt like it was melting. “Si-”

“I know. Your body won’t stop shaking. Just until I cum, yeah?” He observed, fingers tracing your trembling curves.

At the idea of Simon cumming, your body regained new energy that you didn’t know you had. You wanted to see it. Feel it. You wanted to see your lieutenant crumble from the power of your body. “Fuck me then, Simon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. His hips went into overdrive, thrusting in and out of you with ease from all of your slick. You felt him hit that wonderful spot of yours that made you see stars over and over again, your body already on the edge once again. 

Simon picked you up off the bed and turned, settling you on his lap while he laid back. He didn’t relinquish any control, however. He just wanted to grope your delicious ass while he thrusted up inside you, hitting nice and deep. With the new view and new places to touch, he was losing his mind. 

You weren’t expecting this new position, but you didn’t reject it either. In fact, it felt heavenly. He hit that g-spot at just the right angle and you loved how he manhandled your butt so roughly. You liked how his eyes never looked away from your body, drinking it all in like the finest wine. From this position, you could feel his solid cock twitch inside of you.

Struggling yourself up, limbs feeling like jelly, you fell onto his chest, your tits pressing firmly into him. That sent him over the edge, his grip on your ass making his nails dig into your skin. Once you felt that first rope of cum enter you, you came for the last time.

Hot cum mixed together, making a mess out of the both of you. His chest fell and rose with heavy breaths, groans coming out with each rope he couldn’t hold back. Your tightening pussy wasn’t helping, milking him of everything to the point where he even felt tingles travel through him. Once he was finally done, he felt exhausted. 

You were exhausted too, your lungs struggling to regulate air flow. Your heart was beating so loud that it drained all other noises. Your body felt slightly numb from it all, your head getting fuzzy with each second. Simon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you both calmed yourselves. 

“That was. . .” He began, losing the right words to describe just how amazing that was. He’s had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never like this. No one could quite compare to you.

“Yeah. . .” You agreed, your eyes closing as you felt the afterglow take over. You felt the covers pull up over you, Simon still holding you on top of him, not willing to let go just yet. 

He could never imagine letting you go now. 

[junislqve]

ᯓ 50 first dates — heeseung

“cursed with the gift of memories”

syn well-known for his charm and charisma, lee heeseung’s name travels through well with tourists. giving them the best dates and nights of their life. heeseung’s strictly only into one nights stands, running away from commitment even before it was there to chase him. however, his life changed completely when his eyes fell upon a woman. a woman who he knows he could never get. but that has never stopped him, hasn’t it?

feat. hyung line yeji (itzy) hyunjin (skz) | wc 5901 words

pairs fuckboy!heeseung + reader | cw s2l one sided pining? fuckboy turned sweet angst fluff smoking drinking mentions of hook ups mentions of an accident memory loss profanity — mlist navi

note entry for @cupidhoons ’s 1k event >< i tweaked a few things here and there, but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless

“he’s incredible” she says, grabbing her mojito from the bartender. looking back to her friend, “he’s got these eyes that just hold a mischievous look, you know?”

“so? what else happened that night?” another guy asked his friend as she was running on the treadmill.

“we had dinner at this small restaurant and we talked about our lives. it was just like a movie” a woman said as she recalled the night, chatting off while writing her thesis.

“was that all?” a girl’s sister asks while both of them were getting ready for a party.

“we had the best night, he’s so sweet and caring and everything i ever want in a man” a woman said to the worker who was massaging her.

“did you get his number?” her friend asked while handing her a cup of coffee.

“thats the thing” she said, eating lunch at a restaurant. “when i asked for his number he told me he had a girlfriend”

“what’s his name?” her manager asks handing her the new papers.

“lee heeseung”

all over, dozens of women have the same story to tell of the same man. lee heeseung. his charm goes around that has tons of tourists falling head over heels for him.

although really, the charm only consists of the same things with each women; talking to them at whatever place he lands in, telling them about his life stories he’s crafted perfectly, and in the end giving them a good night.

he really had no problem with this routine, figuring they’d all leave soon anyway. dismissing any of their attempts to stay in contact with him by making up on the spot excuses.

“seung” jake exasperates, calling him for the nth time. “you in or not?”

puffing out the smoke, he hummed agreeing to whatever they were talking about.

“we’re diving tomorrow, be at the docks at 5 AM” jay says, grabbing the cigarette pack and throwing it on to the table. “sharp.”

“can’t, i have to take care of the dolphins” heeseung sighs.

“can’t you tell your cousin to do it?” sunghoon asks, taking a swig of the whiskey.

“haven’t you seen him?” he says, referring to his coward of a cousin. as the four continue to talk around the slowly dissipating fire.

heeseung woke up the next day tending to his dolphins. feeding them food and watching them as they swim and did tricks. he sat on the docks, letting his feet hang over the edge, patting the dolphins every once in a while if they snuggled his legs.

he got up about half an hour later and headed to one of the local diners in town. a small, dingy house close to where he works. he sat on the bar stool and a girl who looked around his age took the order.

“i’ll just have coffee, thanks”

“seriously? you look like you’d get blown off by the wind” the girl says, “i’ll fix you up a sandwich”

heeseung smiled profusely, confused whether he should be offended or grateful. he skims through the men looking over the unique variety of choices, when the reflection of the sun seems to be hitting him. he looked up to the direction with squinted eyes and he was so glad the sun shined perfectly at him.

to say he was captivated was an understatement. your hair sat down perfectly on your back as you smiled at the menu like it was an interesting book. you set down the spoon you were playing with and the barista walked up to you to take your order.

heeseung’s eyes never left you, entirely too enthralled just by your presence. he decides to make a move, getting up from his spot and sitting across from your seat that’s conveniently vacant. he watched as the barista placed your plate of pancakes in front of you.

“thanks, yeji” you smiled up at her. he can’t tell which was more angelic; your voice or your smile.

you picked up your pancakes and started stacking them, heeseung watched with curiosity. you started off making a mini volcano as the steam from the heat drove up. minutes later, when heeseung’s eyes left you for a while, your volcano had transformed to a house. you continued stacking the bread carefully.

picking up a small piece, you intended for it to be the door to the supposed house. when suddenly, a toothpick drove through them from the top.

“it creates a hinge” someone says. you look up, which appeared to be a wrong move because the man that stood in front of you might’ve just been carved by the gods.

his hair roused messily atop his head and a grin that you swore had your heart clenched. you momentarily freeze up, scanning over your words for a decent reply.

“oh, thanks” you trail off, showing a small smile.

heeseung was about to sit back down at his spot until you braved yourself.

“hey” you pause awkwardly as he turns back to you “i see you’re alone as well, why don’t you sit with me”

heeseung’s grin doubled and he sat down across from you. from then on, heeseung didn’t know what he got himself into all he knows is that your voice was addicting and your smile held the world.

you both had a long conversation about your lives. he told you about his work in wildlife as a marine veterinarian, tending to the dolphins mostly. and you told him about your work as an art teacher in a school nearby.

you listened intently, thoroughly interested in his job, “my dad works as a fisherman”

“oh really? so you know how to fish” heeseung perked up.

“no, i’ve never really been interested in it” you replied, “but i’m used to the smell of the sea, you reek of it”

heeseung scoffed playfully, “i know, i just went back from feeding the dolphins. probably should have cleaned myself up before”

“no!” you exclaimed trying to fix your tone, “i didn’t mean it in a bad way. you smell nice, like the scent of the sea, it’s kind of nostalgic”

“really?” heeseung looks at you, eyes widened in that adorable way. god, he looks so good. you nodded with a smile that stretched perfectly on your lips. “you should come and meet the dolphins some time”

your eyes lit up, “oh i would love to, how many do you tend to?”

before heeseung could answer, yeji stopped him by telling you both off as they’d have to pack up for lunch.

you both walked out of the diner leisurely when heeseung turned to you, “hey, do you want to continue this somewhere else? i have a nice place we can go to”

“oh” you let out, whilst scrunching your face “i'm so sorry but today’s my dad’s birthday and we usually drive out to the field. it’s our tradition”

“well then how about next time?” he asked, tilting his head.

“how about tomorrow? meet me here for breakfast?” you offered.

“tomorrow then”

rain poured teardrops in a continuous rythmn, the wind blowing harshly. a figure disrupted the pattern as heeseung went in the diner and dropped himself on the bar stool, greeting yeji. and waving at the guy in the back, who’s face always looked sour whenever he looked at heeseung.

“the bar’s closed” hyunjin, who he now knows as yeji’s brother said blatantly. heeseung shrugged at the customer that was sitting on one of the sofas and shined a sly grin at him, receiving an eye roll back.

the door opened once more and you walked in, heeseung watched as you sat down and dropped your jacket beside you.

he stood up and walked to your seat, “hey pretty, missed me yet?”

you looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, “no?” you said, before going back to read the menu.

heeseung stared at you dumbfounded, “hey, are you okay? you said you wanted to meet up again yesterday”

“yesterday? i’ve never even met you” you scrunched your nose as heeseung stood still in confusion, his mind reeling.

in a spur, heeseung got dragged by his collar and out of the diner. the door behind him slammed shut, he turned to see yeji stared at him menacingly.

“what’s wrong? why’s she..” he trailed off.

yeji clicked her tongue, sighing, “she isn’t what you think she is” heeseung waited, breathing heavily, the humid air made it difficult to breathe.

“about a year ago, y/n got into a terrible car accident. she and her father went up North Shore to grab fruits as tradition” yeji continued, “her father broke some ribs, but she had a serious head injury”

yeji looked away and stared off into the rain “she’s suffering short-term memory loss” yeji concluded. heeseung apparently had a hard time understanding all of this, none of the information thrown at him clicking right yet.

“wait, so she can’t remember anything?”

“no you dumbass, she remembers everything up until the night before the accident”

both of them stayed silent.

“so what? she thinks everyday is the day of her dad’s birthday?”

“exactly” yeji states, “she wakes up everyday thinking it’s the same day, her father’s provided her with a special paper that he’s printed over a hundred times for her to read”

“he’s been keeping her in the dark?”

“it’s not like that. she’s been through a lot already and her father doesn’t want her to suffer anymore” yeji scolds. “so if you don’t mind, i need you to stop bothering her. find another person to bother”

“how long’s it gonna take for her to gain back her memory?” jake asks, laying on his back staring up at the night sky.

“her doctors say it may never come back” heeseung says, throwing in food for the dolphins.

“so, basically” jake starts looking down at his friend, “she’s perfect for you”

“what?”

“you’ve never been into commitment” jake shrugs, “there’s practically no attachment there”

heeseung stays silent. jake raised his eyebrows, “don’t tell me you’re falling for her”

he slapped his friend’s leg, “i’m not” he says, “it’s just evil”

“you meet her, hang out, flirt, no commitment, nobody gets hurt”

“she has brain damage, you douche”

“you sure that’s the only reason?”

once again, heeseung stays silent. he can’t lie. he knows that he felt, if anything, the tiniest bit of care for you. spending too much time awake thinking about you more than he should’ve.

“i mean, either way, i think this’ll be good for you” jake starts, his eyes scanned the stars one by one, “you haven’t really let yourself connect with a girl”

“oh so now you care?” heeseung asks, rather jokingly.

“i want the best for you, seung. you’re leaving soon for university, the choice is really yours in the end” jake says, finally sitting up and looking at his friend with sincerity.

“thanks” hee mumbled as jake stood up to get off the ship, patting him on the back while doing so.

“you should get some sleep, you’d need energy to get her back”

heeseung stared at the back of jake’s retreating figure. they’ve been friends for years now, being the closest out of the four. always being a helping hand for the other whenever any of them were in need.

“you again?” hyunjin rolled his eyes about to grab a stick.

“relax, i just want to say hi to her” heeseung says, holding a hand out in defence.

“what did yeji say?”

“that you’d kill me with an axe” heeseung trailed off. “but, hey, look i really just want to talk to her again”

“she doesn’t want guys hitting on her during breakfast” hyunjin said, plainly.

“want to bet on that? 20 bucks” apparently the world was on his favor when hyunjin decides to shake his hand.

“deal”

heeseung spots you on your usual seat, building a house out of your pancakes. he decides its better to play safe, picking up a toothpick, walking to your seat.

“it acts as a hinge” he says, smiling.

“are you from a country where you think it’s okay to stick your fingers all over someone’s food?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“uhm, no, i’m from this country” he starts and after seeing your expression, all of the lines he’d planned out got caught on his tongue, “well, have a good meal”

hyunjin cackled at his attempts and heeseung doubled the price for the next day, determined to get you to have breakfast with him again. that’s how it went on for days, heeseung kept doubling the price at his failed attempts. yeji not really helping as she scowled at him everyday while hyunjin doubled over in laughter.

one of those days, heeseung realizes he really has nothing else to loose, except for his dignity. so that is exactly what he did. heeseung started sobbing in the middle of the diner, weird looks thrown at him.

when you suddenly sat beside him and spoke in the softest voice, he almost melted right then and there. but he pushed through with the acting, still sobbing nonetheless of you trying to calm him down. finally, he got succeeded in getting you to have breakfast with him once again. under the excuse that he couldn’t read.

you both talked all throughout the day, teaching him how to pronounce certain words, reading off the menu and enunciating each syllable. he found it quite endearing that you were so patient given the ridiculous situation.

“i had a great time” you said as you both walked out of the diner.

“yeah, so did i” heeseung smiles. he was about to say something else, but stopped. figuring it was better to go one step at a time, he turned to go get in his car when you scoffed.

“seriously? thats all? you know i thought that if someone would embarrass themselves just to talk to me they would at least ask for my number” you say, turning on the engine and start to pull out of the park.

heeseung, panicked, quickly got in his car to drive after you and apologise. afraid that he would cause problems. and that is how he led himself to this moment; getting told off by your father and almost getting beaten up by your brother.

your father had told him to lose contact with you. that he was to not go to the diner anymore and leave you alone.

now if there’s anything to know about heeseung, it’s that he takes an advice and let it go out the other ear — with the exception of his own grandma, he’s terrified of her — and second, he will never give up on anything. so, he left no time for sulking as the next day he had a brand new conception.

he knew there was no way he could ever talk to you in the diner under the watchful eyes of both yeji and hyunjin. so, learning your daily schedule, heeseung decides to stop at a part of your drive and pretended as if his truck broke down.

“hey, i’m so sorry. can you give me a lift?” heeseung awkwardly smiled as you slowly stopped right in front of his car. a concerned look on your face.

“yeah, of course” you say, getting out of your car to help attach his to yours.

with that, he’s made up a variety of reasons to stop you on your way. most days interacting with you than not. he was so determined to talk to you, his excuses ranged from being kidnapped to getting beaten by who you assumed was a random man.

the plans were carefully thought of, daily. he spent much time creating up random scenarios that were severe enough for you to spare him some time and talk to him.

he really should’ve seen it coming. because one day, your car wasn’t the one approaching, rather, another car. as it came closer he realized your father and brother were sat on the front seats and he sat up from the position he took on the ground.

“once you stop pretending to look dead, come by the house”

now he’s once again stood in the lawns of your house. he expected your dad to tell him to stop meeting you or restrict him further, but all he did was just talk to him.

your dad hesitantly told him how happy you were going about your day and how it only ever happens whenever you had an interaction with him.

“i can stop you from seeing my daughter” your father pauses, “but i can’t stop her from seeing you if that’s what makes her happy”

the weight of his words flowed through the air as your voice tunes in from the garage. painting away your garage whilst singing a song you know so well.

“let me get this straight” jake says, “you’ve been trying to talk to her everyday, making up dozens of excuses, doing random things just so she would talk to you?”

“well if you word it like that, it sounds sad”

“so you’re basically trying to get her to fall in love with you, every single day”

“not always” heeseung trails off, “it’s complicated”

“sure” jake says, taking out his pack of cigarettes. “want one?”

heeseung shook his head, back in thought.

“you haven’t been smoking lately” jake ponders. “is it because of that girl?”

jake said it as a joke, fully expecting his friend to slap him or dismiss it all. but he was proved wrong when heeseung stared right at him and nodded.

“she’s been through enough, i don’t want her to have lung problems just because i can’t leave her alone”

jake whistled low at the statement.

“besides, it’s bad for your lungs, you should stop too”

“i don’t smoke as much as you did” jake retorts, putting back the blunt in the pack. figuring it was boring to smoke alone.

“i never expected you’d do things like this”

“you think i’m heartless”

“not when you used to shit your pants from a ghost story” jake laughs and so did heeseung, hitting his friend on the back. jake looked to his friend, curious.

“do you like her?”

“what do you think?”

“personally?” jake stops, “i think you’re in love with her”

a part of him wanted to deny that, he used to be afraid of commitment after all. but now the prospect of not having any commitment with you kind of scares him. he can’t have commitment with you, literally and figuratively. how could he when you can’t remember who he is everytime you wake up.

like jake said; no strings attached. except, this time he was the at the receiving end and he couldn’t do anything about it.

attempting for the last time to talk to you at the diner, heeseung knew he would fail. he thought he’d done terribly at flirting with you when you screamed a loud ‘no’.

but when you quickly grabbed your jacket and walked out, he followed suit. yeji and hyunjin alarmed as well, walking out of the diner.

the police was about to place a ticket on your car, it was overdue.

“the tags don’t expire until next year”

“it expires May of this year, maam” the police officer said.

“no! it expires may of next-“ you stop after looking at the date of a newspaper that someone was holding.

in a rush, you look around for your car and got in. driving back home confused and aggravated, you have no idea what’s happening.

in the end, you’ve spiraled into this deep hole of reality after your father, quite hesitantly, revealed everything. he told you the whole story; the car accident, what your dad has done, and — to heeseung’s surprise — what heeseung has been doing for the past few months.

sitting on the front steps of your house, flipping through the book filled with newspapers and clippings from your accident, everyone waited around you. your father ready with answers if you if you had any questions or needed any support.

what no one expected was for you to say you wanted to talk to heeseung, alone. heeseung himself was quite shocked, and scared to be faie. he thought out of anyone, you wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore. rather hesitant, your father and brother walked in the house to give you space.

the silence was unbearable, for heeseung anyway. you stared front out to the grassy field. it was a beautiful afternoon if not for the situation you were in right now.

“so, um” heeseung cleared his throat rather awkwardly.

“i’m sorry”

he waits for you to continue, but alas you never did. heeseung looks at you, his brows furrowed.

“what for?”

“you’re the only person i can never remember when i wake up” you say, stretching out your legs and observing them instead.

heeseung looked at you — or rather admired you. he can’t believe even in a situation as this, he still find it in himself to fawn over you. you looked so ethereal under the small rays of the sun.

“it’s alright” hee said, slowly smiling as he looked away from you and off to the wide land. “not like you can help it”

“how are you fine with all this?” this time, you were the one facing him, gosh how could he still keep on that god awful, handsome smile on when he’s practically been rejected multiple times?

“just because” he replies, his smile widening. heeseung feels as if he’s gone mad, absolutely batshit insane. he can’t tell why he’s smiling so brightly right now, maybe it’s because of the fact that he’s having a conversation with you again, or maybe it’s because of how cute you sounded like when you’re concerned for him.

“you’re okay with” you pause, carefully choosing the right words “trying to make me fall in love with you every single day?” you say this slowly, enunciating each syllable hoping you’d say it in a way that didn’t seem weird or self-centered.

“what if i say i am?” you were caught off guard when heeseung’s face turned to you. you hadn’t really noticed your proximity until now. his nose was barely grazing yours and you could see his eyes up close, has it always been that pretty?

you gulp. because how can you not? lee heeseung is inches away from your face and he has the most adorable expression anyone could’ve ever seen. an expression no one’s ever seen except for you. his pupils dilated, hair messy from the wind, cheeks a rosy color and a small grin to top it all off.

“why?”

“want me to show you why?” he says. your heart pounded too loud and out of the sheer fear of him being able to hear it, you looked away. heeseung chuckled and blinked, his eyes wandering back to the field.

“i have to get back” heeseung says standing up, “tell me if you ever need anything” you finally dared yourself to look up at him. it didn’t matter anyway as heeseung walked off and got into his car. flashing that smile of his once more before pulling out of the driveway.

you went in your house after watching his car get further and further, lost in your own thought. when you walk up to your room, a small box covered with wrapping paper is placed on top of your bed.

opening it carefully, you opened the box to see a disc titled “to y/n”. out of curiosity, you ran down to the living room’s television and insert it into the dvd player.

sitting down on the sofa, you waited as the video started to play. the tunes of your favorite song hummed in as heeseung came into view.

“hi, heeseung here” he starts saying, the camera pans to two people in the background that was making heart poses and kissy faces. “yo guys stop”

the guys in the back laughed silently and the camera focused back on heeseung, his smile back on display.

“if you’re watching this, y/n. i want to tell you a bit of a background story first” heeseung stops, and grabs something from below “you got into a car accident about a year ago”

the camera focused on the newspaper clipping of her accident, “and now you can’t remember me, even if i try to talk to you everyday”

the person behind the camera snorted and heeseung threw a dirty look to whoever.

“but it’s okay, because now i’ll show you what’s been happening so you can watch this everyday” hee stands up from the sofa and sits down on his living room chair. the camera zooms out and across him sat one of his friends, you assumed. “this is sunghoon, he’s going to act as you”

the guy named sunghoon waved at the camera, smiling politely. the recording continued on for minutes as heeseung acts out the encounters he’s had with you. sunghoon and his other friend, jay, making faces every once in a while to piss off their friend. your laughs and giggles reverberated through the house walls that has your dad coming in to check on you.

as he watches you from the doorway, listening to your laughs and seeing your big smile, he can’t help but have one of his own. ever since the accident, he really has felt emptiness all over. guilt and so much more emotions plaguing him by day. all he wants is just to watch you be happy all the time and if that’s what heeseung makes you, he couldn’t stop you.

the past few months after that were filled with heeseung getting closer and closer to you as more recordings of you and him were added to the tape.

heeseung told you everything about his life, what and why he works as what he does and how he ended up in hawaii.

in turn, you told him more about the years you’ve had without him and telling him about your late mom. you told him about how she still brings you comfort until today from picking up all the tiny quirks she used to do.

eventually, heeseung grew on you. watching the tape daily and seeing how well he treats you, you really can’t help but fall more and more in love with him.

“no, i love tulips, but i love dandelions as well” you say at the pouting guy in front of you. “these are beautiful, hee”

“you know if you want me to get you another one, i can do it right now” he says, ready to make a run for the shop if you say the word.

“i told you” you took another whiff of the dandelions in exaggeration, “i love dandelions, they’re really pretty”

“okay” he sighs, and the moment you yawn for the nth time of the day, heeseung had you nursed back to bed.

“i’m fine”

“yeah, sure” he says, dismissing your words and grabbing a blanket to cover you. “get some rest, i’ll wake you up this time. i swear”

you squint your eyes at him in warning, “i will!” he says in faux sincerity, letting out a small laugh.

“fine”

heeseung gets up and walks out the door the moment you stopped mumbling. he went down to be greeted by your doctor along with your father and brother in the living room.

they all talked about your health and well-being. and if there was any way your memory would ever be healed — mostly heeseung asked about this. and as much as he hoped, there was close to no chance you would. your head injury was so severe it permanently damaged those parts of your brain.

“are you planning to continue all of this?” your father suddenly asked him, “you have no plans for the future?”

“i’m going to university soon, abroad” heeseung starts. “to continue work as a biologist in alaska”

“ah, well, it’s great you have plans” the doctor replies, patting his back, “i thought you were going to devote your whole life to helping her regain her memories”

heeseung wasn’t the only one silent at this. you were too, although a room away. you couldn’t sleep for long and was about to walk outside when you overheard their conversation about you and didn’t want to make it awkward.

but now, you just realized how dumb you were. you realized how you were basically holding him back from everything. you were being selfish of his time. you blindly liked all of the time he’s spent with you, but you didn’t realize that he too should have a life outside of you.

walking back into your room, you pull out your journal that held all the memories you’ve had with him. you’ve written all of it down. most pages dedicated to him.

“hey” you say walking up to him the next day, as he was feeding the dolphins. journal clutched tightly in one hand.

“hi” heeseung said, pure affection on his voice. you sat down beside him on the docks as he went back to throwing in the food. “i just realized i haven’t introduced you to them. this one’s named lorry”

heeseung says patting the head of the closest dolphin. you closed off your heart, preparing yourself for the worse today. set on one goal. but how can he just sit there and look adorable and somehow all the things you planned to say are down the drains.

“don’t worry, lorry’s one of the nicest ones. compared to the others” heeseung assures, you slowly inched your hands forward to pat the dolphin and it felt soft. lorry snuggled its snout to your palm and dived in the water again to play with its friends.

“heeseung” you say, staring out at the sea, avoiding his eyes at all costs. he hummed, closing up the bag of food before looking at you.

“we should stop seeing each other”

heeseung blinked. once. twice. thrice. he thought people were exaggerating when they said ‘their heart dropped’, but now he understands. he could feel his heart starting to beat uncomfortably, every inch of his body conscious, his mouth felt dry.

“what?”

“i’m not going to hold you back. you can’t just make me fall in love with you everyday, thinking there would be a future for us”

“but what if there is?”

“theres no future with me, seung”

not that nickname. please. you can’t just ask him to stop talking to you and use that nickname on him. it’s not fair. you aren’t being fair. why are you being so weird right now?

“there is!” heeseung exclaims, “i’ll make sure there is. you can watch the tape everyday-“

“it won’t work, hee“

“or i’ll tell you our story-“

“you’ll get bored of it“

“i’ll remind you every morning-“

“that’s impractical“

“or i can stop by your house all the time-“

“stop”

“no, you stop.” heeseung stressed, “i have no problem waking up everyday to talk to you— or, or to remind you of our relationship. i don’t want this to end”

“seung” you sigh, “we can’t make it work and you know that” you picked up the journal beside you and showed it to him.

“i started writing in this journal ever since the day i found out about the accident. and i want to start a new chapter” you look down, “without you in it”

he stayed silent. the waves rippled under the dawning sun. hues of orange contrasted with the sea, reflecting off the colors.

“okay” heeseung says barely above a whisper. you look at him, pretending you didn’t hear him say anything. heeseung stared ahead and cleared his throat. “okay. it was nice knowing you, y/n”

he turned to you with a smile. you don’t know what kind of answer you wanted from him. maybe you half expected for him to continue screaming at you or hell even push you in the water. but for some reason, seeing his strained smile hurt you even more. you were the one who had the idea so why were you the one to slowly regret it?

“glad for you, son” heeseung looked back to see your father walking towards him, your brother following behind.

“sir” heeseung greets, he nodded at your brother. “i’m finally off your back now” he jokes.

your father smiles, “ahh well you weren’t all bad” he says patting heeseung on the back.

heeseung smiles politely. he hesitates to say something, but ultimately thought there was nothing else to loose anyway. “how’s y/n?”

your father looks at him with raised eyebrows, “she’s moved in to the clinic now, teaches people art”

“code 110, flight A30 has opened for boarding, please get in line. i repeat, code 110, flight A30 has opened for boarding, please get in line” the speaker announced.

“that’s my cue” heeseung says, taking his suitcase. “it’s been nice knowing you sir. wished we had more time to talk, you too” heeseung nods at your father and brother. he was about to turn to the gate before a hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him.

“before you go, i want you to have this. a parting gift if you will” your father hands him an ipod. your father nods one last time and walks off. leaving heeseung quite confused.

he got in the plane and the moment he sat down, he connected the wires of his earphones in and as the familiar melody whistled in his ears he knows he fucked up.

heeseung hadn’t ever gotten up and left the plane so quick, a few people shouting at him after he bumped into them but he paid no mind. he ran out the airport and called for a cab.

he was jittery the whole ride. he realized how dumb he had been this whole time. he went through all the things you said that day and he didn’t understand why he just let you leave like that. why didn’t he put up more of a fight?

the moment he got down off the cab he ran in to the hospital searching everywhere for you until he found you back in the gardens. watering some flowers and tending to them.

“y/n” heeseung pants, you turn back a bit startled and see him. heeseung slowly walks towards you, taking careful steps one by another. “do you remember me?” he whipers.

he breathes in, your sweet scent filling him up. his face an inch away from yours. he watched as you stared up at him, admiring how the glow of your eyes shifted at every minor movement.

your lips break out into a pretty smile, “how couldn’t i?” and in a spur, your lips were on his. the longing and time that has passed all fused into a moment. heeseung grabs you by your waist to deepen the kiss and giggles from both you and him elicits against each other.

as you break apart for a moment, heeseung mumbles out something that you definitely heard but want to hear him say again.

“i love you” he whispers, “and i’ll continue to for a very long time”

even memories can never erase that feeling. the feeling of being so painfully in love with someone. the feeling of loving lee heeseung.

© junislqve 2024. liking, rebloging, and commenting are appreciated.

[menlove]

one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

[earthnashes]

Melon didn't stand a chance.

One moment he's staring the end of their journey over the horizon, and the next he's sent plummeting into the awaiting maw of the trench he stood over by a hearty smack of a claw.

He yelps as he tumbles, twisting in the air for a heartstopping moment before his back meets a crag. Mario's cries are muted by rushing wind as he slips again, falling falling falling--

A heavy thud echoes as he collides--bounces-- off another rock face. His ears rings with the rattling in his skull---

A sharp thwack of his head hitting a jutting ledge, and suddenly Melon doesn't hear-- or feel-- much of anything the rest of the way down.

A metal tang coats his tongue red, and the sting of the air bites against his bruises.

 No weight on his back anymore-- 

Everything hurts. 

--the boy...Mario. Where's Mario? D-did he fall too--

Can't move.

--he needs to get up. His human cub, he could be hurt o-or--- get up--

Stay down.

--get up get up GET UP-- 

Melon stays down, can't muster the strength to listen to the mantra in his head. Instead, all he hears is the desperate wails of Mario, and it's enough to force his eyes open just a sliver. He blearily looks up.

At the edge of the cliff he tumbled from stands the silhouettes he can only barely make out; three huge, three smaller, all laughing and pointing and grinning toothily at the heap of him. The leader- and he must be, with how he leers cockily over the ledge-- sneers down at him.

"Thank ye for the delivery, lad! We've been lookin' all over for this little bastard," he says, and without a care he swings a hollering Mario over the ledge by the scruff. The boy twists precariously in his grip --one slip from falling-- and reaches out for Melon with terrified tears in his eyes. He wails some semblance of his name, and Melon feels his gut twist.

no

"Come now, lad, I see that long face from here; ye nothin' to worry about! Brat may've been a pain in the arse to get, but it'll be worth it in the end. Pirate's Honor: we'll take real good care of 'em," The leader gloats, ugly grin stretching wider as he flicks the boy's nose with a sharp claw. "Just like we have his snivellin' flake of a brother. They'll fetch a fine cut yet."

No no no give him back

"I reckon ye wanna say g'bye at least, aye? I could grant that much, bein' a frog of honor and wot-not." The captain holds Mario high above his head, like an angler would his prized catch, and grins down at Melon from his spot above.

"Go on then. Tell 'em 'afore I change me mind."

Something twisted and ugly clogs Melon's throat with bile and copper. He bares his teeth and tries tries tries to bark, to roar, anything to demand his human cub back to him.

GIVE HIM BACK, his mind screetches. But all that crawls out of his mouth is a rattling, broken whimper. It drags his strength with it by the scruff, spilling in a tiny puddle of spittle and grime and blood as his vision begins to waver. His eyes glaze over and fall closed against his will.

And within the canopy of booming laughs and grating cackles, the last thing Melon hear is Mario's cries.

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

AND HERE IT IS.

Part 10 of Melon's Adventure, FINALLY COMPLETE, and with it Arc 1 of this story has come to a close!

I'm glad I managed to finish this arc even with it being forced into a hiatus alongside my burnout months back; I had an absolute blast revisiting my childhood and telling the story in a way I've always imagined it as a kid.

Now, given that it's been a while since the last part, I've taken the liberty to compile all of Melon's Adventure into the #melon's adventure tag for ease of access if you'd like to read it back from the beginning!

Despite this marking the end of Arc 1, I'm hoping to make this the start of me delving back into my Super Mario AU, albeit in a slightly different way. There's still plenty of stories there I'd love to share with ya'll. :>

In fact, in related news: I'm actually planning on opening an online store, and my first planned launch will be themed on Melon's Adventure! More information to come on that relatively soon as more work is done.

At any rate, I hope ya'll enjoyed this story! More to come soon! owo

[softpascalito]

Peluda - Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: A snowstorm hits Bogotá and you bring back a surprise visitor. Javi is not amused. But, it leads to a realization about himself- and about you.

Relationships: Javier Peña x F!Reader WC: 1700 Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Emotional, Nicknames, Soft Javier Peña (Narcos), Sweet Javier Peña (Narcos), Healthy Relationships, Fights (blink and youll miss it), Snow, Blizzards & Snowstorms, This kitten is DEA Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: okay listen i am AWARE that bogotá does not get snow like this but this is my fanfiction and what i say is law so there is snow now.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thick snowflakes swirl around you, the ice crunching under your feet as your gaze flies over the windows of the building down the street. As you get closer, you can see it clearly, light spilling out from the right window on the ground floor. He's home.

You slip twice before you reach the house, hurrying past the parked cars and up the small flight of stairs that is also glazed over with ice, keeping your head down and your coat wrapped tightly around your body. When you reach the front door, you fumble with your keys for a moment, your hands shaking from both the cold and the adrenaline.

A curse escapes your lips as the bundle of keys falls down and you lean forward to grab it before settling for the doorbell instead of giving it another try. It's mere seconds until the door buzzes open and you push yourself into the dimly lit hallway of the apartment building. The wind howls around you, even after the large door has fallen shut, seemingly finding a way through the cracks around it.

“Hermosa?”

His door is slightly ajar, brown hair and a pink shirt poking out at the side of it. You practically storm towards him and you can tell by the way he flexes his arm that he's holding his gun, carefully checking who is showing up on his doorstep this late at night.

“It's me, calm down,” you brush him off as you reach the door and all but push yourself inside. Javier steps back, staring at you for a moment. His voice is a little lower than usual, which in your experience means one of two things. He's horny or he's mad. Occasionally a bit of both.

“Are you crazy, going out in this weather? I was worried sick.”

Mad it is.

You barely look at him as you shake your head, “I just wanted to get some more bread, we were out again and I didn’t know if the stores might close-” His gaze is on your face for a moment, resting on your slightly reddened cheeks, the slowly melting snowflakes that decorate both your hair and your coat. 

But that is what he stumbles over- the coat. Your arms are wrapped around yourself and the thick fabric is drawn over a lump that definitely does not belong to your body.

“What did you get?” Javier tucks the front of the coat down just as you turn away, sending a glare into his direction, “Don't scare it.”

“It?” Javi asks and you can practically see his brain going haywire as he tries to figure out what you’re talking about. The agent is so goddamn smart when it comes to tracking down informants and exposing cartel members but the most normal conclusions sometimes seem like a mystery to him.

His furrowed brows relax slightly when you peel the coat off yourself carefully and he is left staring at a trembling ball of fur in your arms. Very dirty, brown fur.

“Oh hermosa-” He starts but you shake your head before he even has the chance to complain. Bogotá has more than a few stray cats and dogs but so far, he has managed to keep you from taking any of them home.

“She was all alone, Javi, in the snow. She would’ve frozen to death,” you mumble. As if to confirm your story, the kitten gives a small, strangled noise and you hum quietly. Javier follows you into the bathroom, watching with crossed arms as you place the animal in the bathtub and begin to run the water, adjusting the temperature with one hand. The cat trashes around slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the cold porcelain below her and the attention of not one but two humans. Her claws strike your hand, making you curse as a thin trail of blood runs down your fingers.

“What are you doing?” Javier asks in a low voice, clearly exasperated. But you're not exactly calm either, your own hands still cold from the snow and now stinging slightly from where the cat has struck you. 

“I’m taking a bath,” you say with a roll of your eyes, voice dripping with irony. “I’m cleaning the fucking cat, Javi, what does it look like?!”

You don't need to see his face to know you're not the only one in the bathroom who looks like they've been struck. There's a small shuffle next to you as Javi closes the door behind himself and then kneels down beside you with a low groan, “Okay, how do we do this?”

A weak smile spreads over your face as you bring both hands back to the cat that has by now joined in on the conversation, audibly meowing up at both of you as you gently stroke its back, “I'll hold her, you run the water and get some soap.”

He does as told, filling the tub up just a bit so that the small animal can still stand. To your surprise, she doesn't seem to mind the water as much as a cat should. In fact, she almost seems to enjoy the warmth of it around her small paws. 

Javier seems to pick up on it too, “I thought cats don't like baths.”

“I guess not all of them?” You offer as he hands you the bar of soap and you begin to gently run it over the matted fur below your hands.

“Are we sure it's a cat?”

His voice is so serious that you can't help but laugh as you elbow his side, “Javi-”

“I'm just saying, hermosa. It could be a- an oddly shaped, brown raccoon.”

It does not turn out to be an oddly shaped raccoon. As the dirt comes off, layer after layer, staining the once white tub a gentle brown, it doesn't even turn out to be a brown cat.

The orange fur is dripping wet, making the small thing look even more pitiful than it had when you had spotted it hiding from the snow below a bench. At least the attempts to further scratch you have died down, the cat seemingly content to be warmed up and cared for.

“Hold on, I'll get a bigger towel,” you mumble and head to the small cabinet in the hallway. As you grab a well-worn one and pull it out, you hear a low voice coming from the bathroom, one that makes your head turn and hold still as you peek past the door frame.

“You're still shaking, peluda,” Javi whispers, crouched over the tub to gently brush his fingers through the dripping fur, no doubt not realizing you can hear him, “We’ll get you nice and warm, don't you worry.” A tiny meow comes as reply and he tuts softly, “Todavía no estoy seguro si eres un gato. You may fool her but not me. I'm an agent, you know? I can see right-” He punctuates his words with a soft, gentle pat on the cat's head, “- through - you.”

Your heart feels like it's about to jump out of your chest. You've never heard Javi talk to anyone so gently, anyone except yourself. And even then, it's usually reserved for when you're alone, tucked away in bed in the dark, tracing the skin of the person beside you.

A few minutes later you're seated in the living room, the tiny cat wrapped in a big towel on your lap as Javier hands you a baby bottle filled with some milk - both borrowed from the Murphy’s upstairs, who had both been equally confused when Javi had shown up on their doorstep to ask for both.

“Come on, peluda,” you reassure the kitten gently, repeating the nickname Javi used for her earlier, and very carefully, she begins to drink. The taste of the lukewarm milk seems to agree with her because after a few moments, the small sucks on the bottle becomes more eager and silence falls over the apartment, only interrupted by the small noises of the furball on your lap.

Javier is still standing in the open kitchen, watching as you feed the animal, occasionally reassuring her with a gentle pat or a different angle of the bottle.

He swallows, trying to get the realization that his head is producing back down into his stomach, the scenarios running in front of his eyes away from the surface. But there is no un-knowing the things he knows, no way to get rid of them.

He wants children.

It's not a possibility, not in Colombia, not with the cartel so close. Maybe it won't be one for a few years to come, until things are more quiet, until he has fixed everything he needs to fix. Including himself.

But as he watches you, the ever-growing wish settles in his throat, placing itself dangerously close to his mouth. Javi swallows again. He doesn't want it to slip out. Not yet, anyway.

He stands there, content to just watch as the cat eagerly takes one sip after another until the bottle is empty and the ball of orange fur purrs gently as it settles onto your knees, eyes already drooping.

Your voice is quiet as you urge him to come closer and with a small sigh, Javi settles down next to you, his arm automatically wrapping around your shoulder. He doesn't realize how close the picture of the three of you is to what he might have in a few years, minus a round stomach or a non-furry little companion on your lap. It's okay. He can wait.

“Can she stay?” You almost beg, your eyes finally leaving the kitten in front of you to wander to Javi instead. He sighs softly, both of you looking at each other. Then, his gaze leaves your face.

Brown puppy eyes meet green kitten eyes. They look at each other for a moment. Then Javi nods, “Yeah. She can stay.”

notes: shoutout to the person on my discord who said "funny, normally javi is happy to see a pussy" (i love you) also: do not give kittens cow milk (unless theyre starving and theres a snowstorm i guess?) idk this is no vetinary advice, google that shit if you ever bring home a kitten to your dea agent husband.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Four

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Four is finally here, took ages because I got carried away and so it's almost 9k long but I hope you enjoy it!! Thanks for all the love on this series, means a whole lot x

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

“Z, you comin’ or not?” Em shouted up the staircase, practically swinging against it whilst his hand gripped the large ball perched on the very end of the bannister. Somehow it managed to hold most of his weight even as he leaned further back, once more breaking his whole ‘no yelling’ rule. “We gotta move, baby!”

I was pretty content to just let this scene play out, especially after having witnessed the pair's antics firsthand whilst we’d been helping Rosie out with her homework– or rather, whilst I’d been helping, Marshall had been quite happy to just nod along with whatever I’d been saying. As though he understood what the fuck had been going on.

Even so, they’d made it fun, the way they playfully bickered back and forth and how Em seemed hellbent on correcting the girl’s spelling and punctuation even though the majority of it had just been numbers.

It wasn’t long after we’d wrapped up the worksheet that Marshall brought up the topic of food again and in truth, I’d been all for it, suddenly starved at the very mention. So Rosie had run off to stash her school stuff away and use the loo, whilst I’d wandered back out into the hallway where I’d left my shoes, settling down on the wooden bench there to lace them back up. 

Em had followed soon after, seemingly ready and geering to go. He actually let out a hearty sigh when his daughter called back to him that she would just be another minute and I watched on as he glanced up towards the high ceilings in impatience.

I snorted softly to myself at the reaction and let my shoulders relax a little into the wall behind me, my eyes sliding over his slumped form as we waited. “You that anxious to get going?”

Marshall worked his jaw at the question, then pushed away from the stairs to move a little closer. He shook his head at me with a curled lip and then shoved his hands into his pockets, “Just always the same with her, you know? A minute means ten.”

A fond smile crept over my expression, “Ah, the consequences of being a girl dad, Mathers. You now run on female time.”

The brim of his hat barely covered the roll of his eyes when he scoffed, “Don’t I know it.” 

“You love it though.” I shot back, so certain of that particular fact. 

I had only been in the presence of Em and his daughter for barely even half a day and already I could see that. He hummed in retort too, neither confirming nor denying the assumption. 

“Don’t be like that,” I smirked, amused by the tough guy act he liked to front, “She’s probably just grabbing a jumper or something. Looks cold out.”

As I said the words, I let my gaze slip out of one of the long windows by the front door, so I only noticed how his stare had lingered on me for a moment too long once I’d glanced back. I tilted my head in a silent question but before I could say much of anything, Marshall raised a single finger and was already stalking off.

My forehead furrowed into tight lines at the sudden retreat and I was left looking after him, but in the end, I just shook my head and let it go.

“Now look who’s not ready to leave.” I murmured quietly to myself, mostly in jest, whilst my eyes returned to the front drive. 

It did actually look quite chilly out, the skies had a grey overcast to them and the branches of the nearby trees shook in the wind often enough that every third gust another leaf would fall. I watched one cascade slowly, winding its way lower and lower until it hit the grass, orange in colour but its stem still a vibrant green.

It was then, as I was lost in the world outside, focused on distant noise and the flock of birds which flew high, that Marshall returned. I heard the fall of his heavy steps grow nearer before they ultimately stopped by me. I ended up turning to look at him, but was instead met by a bundled ball of black.

Frowning, I peered at the arm holding the material and followed it up until I found his typically stoic face looking back at me. I lifted a brow, “What’s this for?”

His expression somehow managed to flatten further at the ask and so I reached out to take the thing, brow wrinkling even more at the hoodie that suddenly unfolded in my hand. I watched on as it unbundled itself in my hold, sleeves falling into my lap whilst my grip remained stuck on the hood. And yet, I still stared down at it in confusion.

“Uh,” It was a stupid reaction for sure, but I really was utterly baffled by the sudden item I’d been given and with no obvious explanation either. I glanced back up at Marshall, who was already wearing a hoodie of his own beneath his light jacket, so I guessed quite easily that the article of clothing hadn’t been meant for him. “This for me?”

I watched as his eyes slid closed for a second, as though he was taking a mere moment to breathe or some shit– like I was the confusing one here? Before he eventually dropped his head in a short nod, “You slow?”

My eyes were quick to narrow in retort to that response and I felt my tongue press against the sides of my teeth too, before finally, I allowed myself a smile that was nothing short of snarky. “Incredibly so, apparently. Especially without context and when someone’s being a proper prat about the entire thing.”

“Prat?”

I couldn't help it. It just– he sounded so stupid saying it in that Detroit accent of his, even more so when out of everything I’d just gone and said it was that particular word he’d chosen to get stuck on. 

“Yes!” I laughed further, forever amused by the soft scrunch his face had taken on, it was almost enough to have me forgiving him entirely for his stupidity. “I mean, how was I supposed to know, Marshall? You walked off, then came back and said nothing.”

My snickering only continued, even as his cheeks hollowed out, but I’d quickly come to realise that the action was just one of the many he often resorted to when looking to dim down his own reactions. Typically, it was a smile. 

“I gotta spell shit out for you?” He quizzed around a huffy exhale, quirking a brow at me when I widened my eyes in retaliation, “You said it was cold out. You’re sat in a t-shirt. We’re going outside, you’ll freeze. Ergo hoodie.”

“Ergo?” I blanched at him, entirely baffled by the odd phrasing, before I actually started cackling again. “Who the fuck even says that?”

“El.” Marshall warned lowly, but it was already too late. I'd seen the slight twitch the corner of his mouth had made when he’d gone to say my name and there was no use in denying it.

I chose to dampen my grin though, not wanting to push my luck here, and instead stood up to pull the hoodie on, grateful for the sweet sentiment even after the whole ordeal. 

“Thanks for thinking of me.” I smiled over at him whilst I tugged my hair from out of the hood. His eyes slid away once they met mine though and so I put it down to the whole thing not being as big a deal as I’d made it out to be. 

I briefly glanced down at my front, never really having felt anything as soft as the oversized jumper he’d allowed me to wear, but it was easy to see that it was very much him. Screamed Em in a sense, so black that even the slight text running down the side of it was emboldened in the colour. 

I lifted my gaze, “Look okay?”

Marshall’s eyes flickered far left before they found me once more, my hands engulfed in too long sleeves, figure hidden by the thick fabric. He was quiet for a long moment but finally, his head dipped minutely in answer. Barely even a nod and yet I grinned.

“It’s warm as fuck.”

That got a chuckle out of him, or rather a snort. “Better be.” 

His gaze met mine once more but this time it held, “Gonna take you to this diner a little bit away. Used to take Z there when she was a baby, it’s run down as shit now but it sort of became a habitual thing.”

My chest constricted at the notion, at him for wanting me to join them in a tradition that was wholeheartedly their own. I swallowed thickly around the emotion that gathered in my throat and coughed to clear it before my eyes could well. Last thing I wanted to do was cry like some weirdo.

“That sounds amazing.” I said after a breath, flashing him another smile, this one full of appreciation. 

Marshall didn’t know what to do with that though it seemed, because he made this weird face that lasted less than a millisecond before he was shrugging, “I mean, just figured. We can head some place nearer, or get takeout if you’d prefer.”

My eyes must have widened on their own accord because his narrowed in observation. I was quick to shake my head, “No, honest. The diner sounds perfect. I actually could go for some real greasy food right about now.” 

I pushed my hands into the pockets of the hoodie and hoped that he hadn’t retracted the offer just because he felt weird about it or that I’d think less of– I don't even know, him? That in itself made no sense, but I felt more than a little honoured to have been invited and I didn’t want him thinking I was anything but.

Eventually Marshall just nodded and a moment was barely able to pass between us before Rosie came storming down the stairs, a pink rain jacket haphazardly thrown over her shoulders and an exact copy of her dad’s Nike Airs on her feet. “Let’s go!”

She was met with an astonished look from her father when she skipped off the last step and flashed him a giant grin, oblivious to his stress induced wait. At the exchange, my laugh appeared to manifest into a gross sort of snort when I’d attempted to hold it in, earning a look off of Em too. 

I raised my hands up at him in a mock surrender, only the tips of my fingers being seen over the cuff of my sleeves, and pressed my lips together when Rosie swanned on past the man to open the front door, already talking a mile a minute about how she’d spilt her pencils and had to clean them up only to have noticed this hair clip that she thought she had lost hiding down the side of her wardrobe. 

Most would have started to lose their patience by now, what with both Rosie and I having been an apparent handful, but Marshall seemed to take it all in stride, tugging the door open easily enough above my head so that we could all slip on through. Rosie grabbed my hand just as we dropped off the first step and led me out after I smiled my thanks to the man, Marshall following the pair of us, and it was just as we made it back out to the man’s monster-truck that Z asked about my most recent trip to France.

“Dad said you were there a while ago, I can’t remember the last time we visited but he swears we’ve been.” The girl told me just as Em unlocked the car, the vehicle lights flashing a hazy orange. He headed straight on over to the driver's side door but Rosie appeared to falter in her step by the backseat, lips wrinkling as she turned to face me, “Wanna sit in the back together?” 

She’d asked the question almost shyly, which surprised me seeing as it was a total contrast to the person I’d gotten to know, so I was quick to nod along, being more than used to the dynamic whenever I was out with Lottie, and let her tug open the back door for us. Rosie climbed in first just as the engine started up and then I slipped in right after, shaking off the slight chill I’d captured once the door shut behind me. 

“Uh,” Came Marshall’s perplexed splutter from upfront, my head snapped up at the sound to meet his piercing gaze in the rearview mirror. “What am I– your Uber?”

Rosie and I shared a quick look and then giggled, not even having thought about her dad when we’d made the decision. The little girl took the question in stride though as she clicked her seatbelt in place, “Duh.”

Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, so it’s like that? Aight, but know imma be expecting a tip.”

His daughter’s narrow-eyed stare really rivalled his own and had me stifling yet another smile. I waved him off though with a roll of my eyes, “It’s just easier to show her pictures from my trip back here. Don’t complain so much, or those old man allegations will stick.”

Em met my gaze briefly as he glanced over his shoulder to reverse back out of the driveway, the property’s steel gates opening at the motion and allowing us to pass through. 

“Besides,” I smiled coyly after having witnessed his slightly curled lip, already pulling my phone out to do exactly that in hopes that Rosie might enjoy them, “It’s custom for a princess to be chauffeured around.” 

The younger girl snickered at that, as well as the expression her dad then pulled, but nodded her agreement. “Yeah, Dad. Listen to the Brit, she knows all about royalty and stuff.” 

Amused, my brow wrinkled in an attempt to bite back my grin and I swiped into my camera roll to pull up the pictures I’d snapped at Paris Fashion Week. Lottie had been fascinated at first, very into the idea of the mania that surrounded the high press event, but her excitement for it had died out as soon as she’d spotted the A-list celebs sitting amongst the first row, having pointed out and asked me which one I’d managed to meet. She was cute at times, but an unimaginable nightmare. 

“Kid, don’t let her brainwash you with all that London crap, she ain’t never even met the Queen.” Marshall was quick to pipe up, drawing me from my scrolling. 

I peered over at Rosie, who was looking at the back of her dad’s head with an unimpressed expression. “You said you liked her accent when I said it was funny.” Z argued around pursed lips, her rapid retort made me blink and shoot another look at the driver.

“So you do like my accent!” I all but gasped, smiling gleefully now, because see, it had become somewhat of a passtime for Marshall to rip the piss out of whatever I would end up saying whenever we’d call. He’d done it enough times now that I truly thought that it was just something he’d grown to put up with.

The roll of his eyes was caught in the rearview mirror before they shot over and captured mine for a split second. “I think it’s safe to let you know now that Z is a pathological liar.”

I snorted at the cheek of him, whilst the girl mentioned called out a miffed, “Hey!”

Marshall merely shrugged in reply, though it seemed that we both could make out his ever growing smirk even as he continued to watch the road.

“Don’t worry, lovely.” I assured the girl around another soft chuckle as I moved to squeeze her hand in a show of support, “I’ve grown used to your Dad’s–” I went to say bullshit, but paused before I actually could, “antics.” I supplied instead, grateful to the way Rosie seemed to be none the wiser to the slight stumble, although Em’s appreciative glance was a tad bit mirthful. I shot him a dark look.

The rest of the ride was spent with me explaining each picture that Rosie asked about; the gardens of my hotel that I’d been utterly taken with, having spent most, if not all, of my free time hiding within them; the Westwood catwalk show I’d had front row seats to, sitting beside Ms Vivienne herself whilst almost dying of heatstroke in the dress I’d worn (the lights had just been a lot, okay?); and even the Parisian markets I’d wandered into, having collected an array of still photos capturing stalls full of prints, fresh food, flowers and clothing. 

It had been a hectic week, but really enjoyable. It was also nice to note that Rosie found some enjoyment in the experience too, gasping and awwing about all of the little details she managed to spot within the frames. Although, there had been one photo in particular that she’d seemed to get stuck on, sliding back and forth between the rest to look at it again and again. I took note and filed the information away for later.

By the time we pulled to a slow stop, I was blinking and peering around in surprise to find that we’d already arrived, having seemingly been caught up in listening to Rosie’s opinions over some of the outfits I’d loved enough to go backstage and capture.

The diner was just as Marshall had explained, rundown. But only by a tad. It was almost as though it had been frozen in time, whilst the rest of the world had continued on around it. Its red paint was rusted and chipped, cracking at the beams that were nothing if not supportive. The glass making up the windows were tinted a sheer yellow, stained from years of direct sunlight beaming through, and a sign hung high above the front entrance, squeaking in the wind.

Stepping out, I was surprised to see the look of anticipation that crossed Marshall’s face once he’d rounded the car to meet us, Rosie slipping into the space beside me after the door slammed shut. I grinned, marvelled by the sight of an authentic American diner, one that seemed to have lasted past the ages, and let my eyes roam over the shop’s exterior before finally looking back at Em who stood beside us.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets alongside the keys he’d just used to lock up the car, eyes taking note of the way his daughter’s hand slipped inside of mine without question to start leading the three of us over.

“They make the best ice cream sundaes.” Rosie mentioned with a bright smile, almost skipping in her giddy excitement whilst her dad trailed a step behind us. “Dad reckons it was all I would eat some days when I was little. I’d scream and throw a fit if he tried to feed me anything else.”

Em’s breathy snort echoed out over my shoulder as the diner’s door rattled to welcome us inside. “Yeah, and why’s that?” He questioned her, holding the handle to keep it from bumping either one of us.

“Because I only ever wanted the cherry and whipped cream a sundae could offer.” Rosie giggled, tiptoeing briefly to look out across the shop. She seemed to know exactly where she was headed after that, hurrying over to a booth sat in the far corner where the window and wall connected. 

I glanced back at Marshall with a quizzical look and was gifted a small smile as he shucked his chin out to gesture me on. “It’s where we’ve always sat.”

Oh.

My feet guided me towards the cushioned booth, its padded seats worn enough to look like a boxing bag after a proper fall out with its fighter, but they were somehow comfier than the car we’d ridden over in– not that I’d ever let that slip. I settled into one side at the beckon of Z, whilst Em slid onto the opposing bench with a practised ease. I looked right up into his eyes after and couldn’t help the excited smile I wore, hoping for him to somehow see how much I was already enjoying myself.

“Why, hello! Been a while, ain’t it?”

I startled at the sound of the unexpected voice, something which in itself caught me off guard because I was usually always so hyper aware of everything going on around me. Blinking off the shock though, I peered over to my left to find an older lady with hair so red it could have only been box dyed, stood there with a couple menus. The colour matched her lipstick too and suited her so well that it was hard not to gift her a small grin.

Her bright eyes appeared to meet mine at that exact moment and a flash of surprise washed through the watery blue before it was gone. She checked her hip against the side of the booth to settle in, “Well, ain’t this a surprise. An’ here I were thinkin’ we’d jus’ have to put up with the pair of you fer the rest of our days.” A hand came to rest on my shoulder, nails also painted a glossy red, “You’re pretty too. How you doin’, honey?”

A tad bit overwhelmed by her welcoming nature and the thick accent that didn’t seem to be from around here, I leaned into the gesture and smiled up at her warmly. “I’m good, thank you. Hope your day hasn’t been too rough either.”

The woman tittered brightly at the reply, her mirthful surprise written plain as day across her features as she squeezed my shoulder gently, “Well, I’ll be damned.” She blew out before she could shoot a glance Marshall’s way, “A looker and a sweet talker. Got yerself a real good one here, sunny.”

Marshall appeared to hide his reaction behind the pair of fisted hands he’d been propping his chin against, but still made the effort to reply to the waitress once it had been stamped out, “Quit being nice. These Brits don’t know nothing about that tip you’re looking for.”

My eyes widened whilst Rosie just squeaked out a laugh, peeking her head out from beside me to grin over at the woman with a happy wave, “Heya, Marcie. How’s Pluto?”

The waitress, or rather, Marcie’s knees gave out a bit at the hello to better see the youngen, the hand which held the menus pressing against the table’s edge in an effort to lean closer. “Hey, baby girl. Pluto’s doin’ jus’ fine, loved those dawg treats you gave him the last time ya came around.”

Rosie’s face lit up at the admission whilst her dad’s appeared to age slightly at her reply, “I’ll make sure to bring a whole boxful next time!”

Marcie lapped it up though, laughing sweetly before she settled the menus in front of each of us. “I’ll mention it ta him.” She replied, then glanced about the rest of the table, “You two known one ‘nother long?” 

That question seemed to be directed towards both Marshall and I, so I chanced a look over at the man to gauge his reaction and was pleasantly surprised to find him already wearing a small but fond smile. It wasn’t until Marcie raised a brow at him though that he moved to hide it again, almost as if he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it at all.

“A while.” Marshall supplied with a roll of his eyes, not even taking a peep at the menu before he slid it back over to the woman, “That’s all you get too. So go stick your nose in Old Harry’s business for once.” 

It was fucking rude, but the way he said it– Well, it once again had Marcie laughing up a storm. The entire exchange reminded me of the people back home, of the witty and sarcastic retorts most Yanks seemed to lack. It was rude, yeah, but honest and brash enough to show just how close these two supposed strangers actually were. Marshall knew Marcie, had known her for a long while even, that much was easy to see. And the woman had been surprised, really surprised, to see me sat here with him, even through all of her teasing, so that in itself gave me much to think about.

Marcie picked the menu up without looking or saying a thing about it. Then she hummed around another smile, “Most Harry’s got gowin’ on is that gout growin’ outta his foot.”

I had to thin my lips to withhold my snicker at her quick retort but even so the smile still shone through. 

“Lovely, Marc.” Em drawled snarkily, before he slapped on a charming grin to bat his lashes up at the busty woman, “You talk to all your customers like that, or am I just special?”

“Ya know you’re ma only.” Marcie played along, nudging the man’s shoulder as she passed us by. Before she could actually disappear though she called out to us from over her shoulder, “Be back in a flash, jus’ need ma notepad!”

Watching her walk away, I found myself smiling, nose even wrinkling with the motion. She was a right character, one that oddly reminded me of this dinner lady I’d had back in primary school. 

I was soon broken from my reminiscence when Marshall cleared his throat though, “She grows on you.” He murmured, catching my gaze, “Like cancer.”

“Dad!” Came Rosie’s hasty rebuke, one that had me giggling behind my palm as the girl playfully swatted her menu against her father’s arm. 

“Or gout.” Marshall added in afterthought, smirking as he easily batted the girl’s attempts away.

“You know Marcie’s the best!” Rosie argued with him, but the corners of her grin had already begun to reach her eyes.

Marshall hummed lowly and pushed the menu back over towards his daughter, then he looked at me, “Should have gave you a warning though. Looked like you were at a circus when she arrived.”

My eyes narrowed, “She just caught me off guard, is all! Didn’t see her come up behind me.”

Rosie chuckled sweetly as she leant into my side and Em resettled his head against his fisted palms, looking between the two of us. 

“It’s ‘cause she used to be a dancer. Says it’s why she’s so light on her feet.” Z let slip, but Marshall’s slight grimace told me a different story. One I let be for now.

“Seems the sort.” I said to the girl, smiling as I picked up my plastic menu card to toy with an edge, “Know what you’re getting?”

“A milkshake.” Was the confident answer before Rosie’s eyes shyly slipped over towards her dad, who raised an eyebrow, “Please?”

“Actual food, baby.” Marshall coaxed as he moved to rest against the tabletop on his forearms, but Z chewed on her lower lip, expression morphing into something which resembled a puppy quietly begging for treats. He sighed, folding all too quickly, “We can share one, but actual food first.”

The grin he received in turn was nothing short of adoring and Rosie was quick to dip her head in agreement, eyes surveying the menu once more. “The tenders look good.”

Em’s smile was soft and I watched on as he dropped his chin in a silent okay, eventually though his gaze shifted over to me, he waited.

I rolled my eyes, having caught on quickly, “Figured just a hamburger and chips.”

“Fries.” He automatically corrected which had me huffing out an airy laugh as I shook my head at the already argued debate.

Rosie, though, appeared to blink at our short exchange. “I forgot about that.” She giggled to herself before she then turned to her dad, “Why do they call them chips anyway?”

Marshall raised a shoulder in answer, “They’re backwards.”

Scowling, it was my turn to swat the man with the plastic menu and both Z and I laughed when he actually cowered further into the booth to avoid the next swing. “You’re backwards, driving on the wrong side of the road and paying for sodding healthcare.” I scoffed.

The most I was given in return was a long look from the man.

My eyes narrowed, “Bite me.”

Rosie was still giggling away at the pair of us, eyes alight, before she peered over at me, “I think it’s cool that you say things differently.”

My nose scrunched around the pleased little smile that overwhelmed my face and I draped an arm around her to rope her into a side hug. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

Em scoffed and so I widened my smile for him, peering over at the man from across the table.

Soon enough Marcie returned, letting us place an order whilst she told a story about how the cook had almost lost his hand a couple of weeks back when he’d helped this old woman with her car which had stalled outfront. Marshall seemed content to just listen, throwing in a reply or two, whilst Rosie and I glanced between the older woman and the car park with a slight grimace.

The father and daughter duo did actually end up ordering that milkshake to share, chocolate they’d decided, which arrived just before our food, something that Em bit his tongue about after he’d witnessed Rosie’s excited expression. Whilst I just opted for water, wanting to save some room for my food that looked as enticing as a five course meal at the Hilton when it finally came out, what with how hungry I was. 

“Thank you, Marcie.” I murmured softly, gifting the older woman an appreciative smile as she settled my plate down before me. Rosie decided to follow that up with an eager thanks of her own, milkshake already nearing the halfway point.

“Yer most welcome, hunnies.” The waitress acknowledged as she placed Em’s plate between his knife and fork, and it was then that I paused, not having recalled the man even ordering anything after he’d handed her back that menu. It seemed though like he had a usual here. “Can I get ya anythin’ else now?”

I shook my head just as Marshall waved the woman off, giving her his own nod of acknowledgement. 

Marcie left with one final grin and the three of us settled in, Rosie covering half of her plate in ketchup whilst Em and I watched on in faint amusement. 

The girl made a gesture with the bottle shortly after, offering it up to me, and so I opened the bun of my burger to allow her a chance to squeeze a dollop on the patty. We both snickered at the novelty sound the bottle made before she then leaned over the table to do the same to her dad’s.

When I glanced back up from replacing my burger’s top, I was a little surprised to see Marshall observing us once more, before Rosie captured the entirety of his attention, switching out the red sauce bottle to a yellow mustard. He moved to thank the girl in a low register. After which, the rest of the meal was spent sharing odd tidbits; Rosie’s day at school, my flight over from London, before Em then started poking fun at my food.

“What?” He snickered around the mouthful of fries he just tossed back, “No burger is complete without cheese. I said what I said.”

“Why’s it called one then?” I quipped, having picked up my cheeseless burger and taken a bite. I wiped at the corners of my mouth with my tongue and raised a terse brow at the man. “It’s not my fault I can’t stand the stuff.”

Rosie sat there beside me a tad bit baffled, “I can’t believe people like you actually exist.”

I couldn’t quite help the laugh that bubbled from me, “Z! Come on, don’t team up against me now!”

Bless her heart, the girl did look a tad bit sheepish at that. So I bumped her shoulder with my own and winked, it seemed to spur her on. 

“I’m not! Just, I don’t know anyone who hates cheese! Does that mean you don’t like lasagne?” Asking that though only made her gasp whilst her entire face seemed to drain of colour, “Or pizza?”

Snorting, I simply shook my head. “Hate it.”

Rosie’s jaw dropped open.

Surprisingly, it was Marshall that came to my rescue with that one as he shrugged a single shoulder at the topic. “Pizza’s always touch and go. Can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually enjoyed a slice.”

His daughter's frown was prominent and from this angle I could only assume that it looked even more devastating from Marshall’s point of view, “But you always end up finishing my half.”

Em gifted her a smile, but shrugged lightly, “It’s a waste otherwise.” It was then that he leant in a little closer though, speaking before he pulled a face, “Besides, who says no to free pizza?”

Rosie chuckled, content with his answer. Though I could understand the sentiment of its first part. Some kids grew up worrying over food and money, whether mum or dad would have enough to put dinner on the table or keep the lights on, because that was just what they were taught, what they had picked up on. Others, lucky ones like Rosie, were able to just be kids.

By the time the three of us were finished, I was a tad bit fatigued from how quickly I’d managed to scarf down my food and Em had since leaned back in the booth to place a hand over his stomach. Rosie giggled at the sight we must have made whilst she shook her head, “Is this what being old means?”

Both Marshall and I shot her a sharp look at the unexpected muse, my mouth gaping at the sheer cheek, but before either of us could even get a word in to argue, the girl was already scampering underneath the table to slip on out the other side. “Going to the restroom!” She told us brightly, her beaming grin giving way to the humour she’d found in tormenting the pair of us.

Marshall merely clucked his tongue at his daughter’s retreating figure before he eventually rolled his head back over towards me. He huffed, “Don’t have kids. They’re assholes.” 

Grinning, I propped my chin up on my hands and let my eyes slip close. “Yeah, but they’re cute arseholes.”

Em grunted.

I blinked blearily to peer over at him. “Thanks for bringing me.”

A faint line etched itself into the skin between his brows, “Don’t thank me, it’s nothing.”

With a roll of my eyes, I blew out a breath, “It’s not nothing.” I tried, dropping my chin slightly to catch his eye, “It means a lot that you invited me here, I can see how much it means to you guys.”

“It’s a dump.”

I exhaled around a disbelieving smile. “But it’s yours. And it’s Rosie’s. And it doesn’t matter what the fuck it looks like because the people here are warm and the food is fucking amazing.” I laughed then and scooched a little closer to press against the table's edge, “Stop worrying about whether I care or not.”

He scowled minutely at that before the look softened into something other, a half a minute passed between us and his eyes settled on the lot beyond the window. “Just ain’t showy, is it? Don’t want you like thinkin’– I don’t care or some shit. Just ��cause I didn’–“

I cut him off there to poke fun, “Wine me and dine me?”

But his face said it all. This man truly didn’t realise how wrong he was.

Shaking my head lightly, I sighed and wondered how to word my answer exactly. “Em, I didn’t come here expecting you to put on a show for me. For you to hide behind some facade or flaunt your wealth. ‘Cause if you were looking for something like that then I’d be best pointing you in the direction of the nearest groupie.” 

I let go a chuckle and we both shared a smile, even if his was a little less than anticipated. 

“And I know that you care. In your own odd way. And that’s enough for me because I’ve seen how much you care, in all of our calls and sporadic texts, in the videos you pass on just because you reckon they’ll make me laugh like they did you.”

I looked at him then, I mean really looked, and hoped that he could make out the sincerity which lined my voice. Because I’d felt that, I’d been the person sat there waiting for the other shoe to drop, for somebody to finally ask for something or make demands. But I’d sooner die before I treated someone else like that. Still, I just figured that with all the years he had on me he might have figured that much out about me before I had to go and tell him. 

“I didn’t come here looking for Eminem. Or for the life your money gives you. I like the fact that you’re off the grid. That you keep a jar by the fridge so you don’t swear in front of your daughter. That you plant flowers in your garden and pick up your friends from the airport, just because you can. And that you take said friend to a place that obviously holds such a sentimental spot in that old heart of yours. Because I know that you showing me this is your way of letting me in without having to say a bunch of shit about it, to make me feel welcomed whilst I’m staying with you. ‘Cause that’s just who you are.”

It should have been unnerving, the way his eyes had settled on me since I’d started this whole tangent, but I found myself looking back almost as intensely. 

My words had been honest, I just needed him to see that.

Marshall went to say something but paused before he actually could, gaze skittering down to the tabletop before his eyes flashed back up to meet mine. For all that he could rap and spit a couple rhymes, he truly was a man of few words. Although, they were always paired with a genuine lilt and studying stare, “I appreciate that. And you, for saying it.”

Somehow I managed to muster a sheepish smile. I ended up nodding at him once, fiddling with the sleeve of the hoodie I wore before Marcie came swanning back over with Rosie attached to her hip, a container in the girl’s hands.

Marshall cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to welcome the duo back into the fold, eyes immediately honing in on the box. He shucked his chin out towards it, “What you got?” 

Marcie squeezed the girl in a close hug and then let her go. “A couple treats.” She informed him, and when Em dared to open his mouth in retort, probably to deny the offer, the woman promptly cut him off, “On the house. An’ fer later.” She tittered before she flashed a look at both Marshall and I, “There’s plenty there fer you two as well. Don’tchu worry.”

Laughing softly at the exchange, I beamed at the redhead, “Thanks, I don’t think I’ve eaten this good in ages.”

It was an offhanded comment, one that appeared to make Marcie grin as she leaned in to rub my shoulder in a show of gratitude, whilst Marshall’s eyes lingered.

“The little lady mentioned ya had a penchant fer chocolate,” Marcie mentioned with a conspiratorial smirk, “So I saved ya some of our best cake– jus’ make sure this one here don’t get ta it first.”

Marshall pursed his lips when the waitress nudged her head over in his direction and only blew out a breathy chuckle when the woman added, “Though he could stand to put on a few, a good gust a wind might jus’ come an’ blow ya over, sunshine.”

The man in question rolled his eyes, not unkindly, as he waved Marcie off, probably all too used to it. But my mind had been caught on one word. Sunshine. 

It suited him, I deemed. Almost ironically. 

“I’m fine.” Marshall huffed at her, but he’d paired it with the quirk of his mouth to soften the blow. “Gonna have to waddle over to the car with how good I just ate.”

“Too right!” Marcie applauded him, then swerved around the table’s corner to pick up some of our dishes with a smile. Em grabbed the milkshake just as she reached for it though and slurped up the dregs of the runny chocolate that Rosie had yet to finish. “Animal.” The woman muttered, shaking her head at the man who then helped her to pick up the rest.

Marshall rose from the booth, cups and plates in hand, and motioned Marcie ahead of him without a word. I watched in practical awe as the man meandered his way throughout the diner alongside the older woman to drop off the round of dirtied dishes into the kitchen, neither one of them even second guessing the motion. 

I shook my head to clear the many thoughts which had managed to wrangle my mind into a chokehold. Forever surprised by him.

Rosie slipped into the booth opposite, container perched happily in her hands, and so I leaned in to smile over at her, “What did you get?”

“Cookies and a little red velvet.” She chirped happily, holding the box out for me to peer into. “The chocolate’s yours and the muffins are Dad’s.”

“If they taste as good as they look you guys will never get rid of me.” I laughed softly before I shared a secret grin with the girl.

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining.”

That in itself warmed my heart. “Yeah, just wait until you see me tomorrow morning,” I teased, then gestured towards my face, “It’s scary.”

Rosie snickered and shook her head, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I grinned and pushed away from the table to raise my hands in jest. “You’ve been warned!”

It was then that Marshall walked back over and my eyes caught the slip he held. “You two ready to go? Figured we could–”

“You paid already?” I asked with a slight frown, eyes jumping from the check up to his confused expression.

“Yeah.” He retorted, raising a brow.

I stuck my hand out and made a grabby motion for it, “Lemme see how much I owe you then, I wanna give Marcie a tip, too.”

Instead of doing exactly that, Em shoved the slip into his pocket and rocked back on his feet, “Already done.”

“Marsh,” I pressed, head tilting with it as I swerved in my seat to let my legs out. “Come on, I’ve got this one. You’re already doing so much for me.”

The fucker just stood there though with an unimpressed stare and gave me a slow blink. Then he gestured his head over to Rosie, motioning for the girl to start moving, and Rosie did so with a small grin that she was quietly attempting to dim. 

I stood too, “Marshall.” It was almost said in warning but the man was already moving, leaving me to catch up. 

I smiled politely at a waitress, who hadn’t served us, holding a tray of coffee cups and then again when we bypassed a group of patrons that were settled further up front. Em just continued on, mind already made up, but I made a point to at least catch Marcie on our way out.

Thankfully the woman was stationed up by the till still and so I paused by a breakfast stool at the bar she was working behind. The redhead glanced up at me and it was then that I saw the strange glint in her eye, she smiled wryly as though she already knew what I was going to say. She even beat me to the punch, “He said ya’d put up a fight.”

We shared a mirthful glance in the direction of the diner’s door where said man stood waiting just beyond, hands in his pockets and staring back at us. 

I huffed out a somewhat humoured chuckle but pressed further against the bartop, the fight was already lost. “He didn't even offer.” I said,feeling the need to throw it in, “And I know it’s stupid and traditional bullshit, but he’s already made me feel so welcomed here. I just don’t want him thinkin’ I’m taking advantage. You know?”

Marcie cackled, bright red nails coming up to clutch at the bar’s edge, “No, I don’t know, missy. If I were ya I’d be takin’ full advantage of the fact that he don’t offer, unlike most men I’ve met throughout ma life, he’s an honest one. A true gentleman.”

I snorted slightly at the picture my mind conjured, Marshall dressed in old-timey clothes and maybe a monocle, but knew that she saw me slump a little, realising how right she was.

She pressed against the counter though to shoot me a wicked grin, arms falling effortlessly one over the other, “‘Tween you an’ me, ‘ve been workin’ on an edge where he’ll come in one day wiv’a set a house keys jus’ fer me.”

The laugh that escaped me caught me by surprise and I ended up shaking my head at her blatant teasing, thankful for the way she’d allowed me to see that him paying wasn’t as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. “I’ll see how I can help then.” I reasoned with her, which earned me a proud look in turn. 

“Knew there were a reason I liked you.” Marcie tittered and her eyes returned to the door just before she tilted her head to look at me once more, “It’s his waya sayin’ thank you, I ‘spose. Fer comin’ here with ‘em, or maybe just fer actin’ the way ya do around his little girl.”

My brow wrinkled and so the woman clucked a faint chuckle, the sound sweet and inviting.

“God girl, you don’t see it, do ya?” Her smile stayed strong even as I frowned further in confusion. “He don’t bring many folks ‘round here. An’ I ain’t stupid, I know who he is but I also know who he was. An’ those two men ain’t all that different. You’ll realise what I mean soon enough.”

I wanted to pester her further, because all she’d really given me was a puzzle to solve. But I couldn’t quite force myself to, not with the way she was smiling as though she knew something I didn’t, her twinkling blue eyes flickering over towards the door just before it rang out again.

“El, daddy says he’s gonna leave your ass behind!”

“Dollar!” I called out without thinking, pointing at the little lady who’d just stuck her head through the opening. 

Rosie gaped at me for a second, probably shocked I said it, before she laughed, “I’m just repeating what he said!”

“Uhuh,” I dragged out, unable to contain the smile which bloomed even as I cocked a hip against the counter and raised my brow. “Should I let him know that then?”

Her eyes grew so wide I was honestly a little concerned. But it was then that Marcie stepped in to save her, “Secrets safe with me, honey.”

My head swivelled over to find the woman already grinning, her eyes alive with the strength of it. I rolled my own in fond amusement and shook my head at the pair, “Two against one.” 

Rosie had since stepped in through the door and was now peering over at me with those doe eyes of hers. I crumbled far too easily, “Fine, me too. But I want a pinky promise to seal the deal.”

The girl nodded hastily enough and so I moved over towards her, offering up a pinky for her to wrap her own around. We grinned and let our hands drop, linked fingers still in place. Z glanced over in Marcie’s direction then and I followed her to find the waitress watching us with a warm smile.

“Take care now. An’ I’ll be hopin’ to see yer face again soon, missy.” Marcie warned me with a finger pointed in my direction. I couldn't find it in me to deny her but still, I shot her an impish grin as I pushed open the door once more, letting Rosie slip through.

“I make no promises but I’ll think about it!” I called out to her over my shoulder, “That chocolate cake had better be the best I’ll ever have!”

Marcie’s brilliant laughter followed us out as she waved goodbye, Rosie leading me across the lot and over to the car Marshall was propped up against. The man pocketed his phone when he saw us approaching and gave me a questioning look, probably to see if we were still good.

With a roll of my eyes and after the conversation I’d just had with Marcie, I couldn’t quite berate him for what he’d done, but still stopped short by the car to shoot him a warning glance, “Next time it’s on me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, even got as far as to open his giant gob before Rosie had to cut in, “Just let her have this one, Dad.” She giggled, opening up the backseat to climb inside.

“Yeah, let me have this one.” I quipped giddily, the two of us in an odd sort of standoff now.

Surprisingly Marshall relented with just a sigh and the shake of his head, motioning me into the car before muttering, “What have I signed up for?”

I swatted his shoulder in passing and he laughed, opening the door up wider for me to join Z in the backseat. I stopped him just before he could let it fall shut. “Thank you.” I told him, not wanting him to know that I was anything other than grateful.

Em looked at me for a long moment, shadowed eyes flickering back and forth between my own before he dipped his chin slowly, a coy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was only when he knew that I’d caught it that he let the door close.

[fairykazu]

sweet to dream with kaeya prompt: red rose - falling head over heels in love petunia - realizing their feelings content: set in canon, teens, mutual pining, lazy ending :( (kaeya) ( requested by @kukikoooo ) event masterlist 𝜗𝜚 genshin masterlist

kaeya

the strongest memory that lingered in kaeya’s mind was when he caught feelings for you. though, by now everyone knows since it’s his favorite story to retell when he’s drunkenly babbling everyone in angel’s share ears off.

he was dumb and you were dumber. you protest otherwise. it’s okay to be in denial. 

in the outskirts of the city, he was knee-deep in a field of windwheel asters begrudgingly. "why did you pick the hottest day of the year to do this?" kaeya grumbled, sweat beading his forehead as he trudged through the asters’ field. 

the air was humid, carrying the faint scent of earth and the distant sweetness of blooming flowers. his boots crunched through the meadow, each step releasing a subtle scent of earthy grass. the midsummer sun blazed down upon him, turning the once vibrant greenery into a dreary sea of orange and terracotta. 

name was just right ahead of him. they were like a little rabbit, hopping throughout the fields. they were picking the "best" flowers one by one, filling up their weaved basket to the brim. while his was barely to the amount compared to theirs or at least, in his standards, he was also picking the best ones.

maybe he was the winner here because his flowers were picked with the utmost delicacy.

"well, the flowers are at their best today. besides, i heard that eula managed to get wind-caressed asters for amber! …" name replied with a bashful grin, their eyes sparkling with excitement. kaeya quirked a brow while they trailed off. "ahem, besides, I want everything to be perfect for the windblume festival."

kaeya chuckled at name's enthusiasm, a hint of mischief dancing in his own eyes. "You and your flower obsession" he teased, poking at name's arm playfully. the two of them had known each other since they were kids. they were like two peas in a pod, sticking together while their friendship had endured countless adventures in mondstadt. "but i guess, it's a good thing, it keeps you from burning down the city with your cooking."

they gasped, nearly dropping their basket on the ground. one thing about name, other than the terrible cooking skills, is that they have the flair for the dramatics. they draped one hand over their face, “but you said you loved my rendition of mint jelly and that everyone in dawn winery liked it too!” 

kaeya’s breath exhaled a laugh, trying to disguise it as cough, as he picked another aster into his basket. “ahaha… i lied.” 

“it was really hard, kaeya.” they whined in response, picking up the basket and continuing on to a different patch of asters. they rested on a nearby tree, sitting down. name pointed their finger at him, “everyone ate it too!” 

kaeya’s eyes grew wide, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. he leaned against the oak tree, trying to keep his laughter at bay. "no, they didn’t.” he put down their accusing finger down as if it was a weapon pointing at him.

the both of them sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the gentle rustle of the leaves above them. name paused, pointing another finger at kaeya as he let out a laugh. they poked him in the shoulder, “yes, they did. even adelinde praised me!” 

“i ate them all.” 

“what?” 

kaeya went on a tangent about how even diluc didn’t like the mint jelly even though the redhead convinced you then that you were a baking prodigy. name recalled the moment when they caught kaeya stealing elzer’s jelly, insisting it was the best jelly he’d ever had. but in reality, he was just saving people’s taste buds and their pride. 

“was it really that bad?”  

“not the worst, ive tasted. it was kind of toothpasty.” 

“fine, fine. how many flowers did you collect for the festival?” they dismissed the situation, maybe to shield their own pride. kaeya tried to read their face but it’s clear name wanted to move on from this topic. the eyepatched boy handed them his basket of flowers that were supposedly in the best condition. they brought the basket to their lap, digging their face into the flowers, checking if they’re “perfect” enough. 

 “i got a couple… wait, why did you even want to do this again?” 

they repeated the same reason as before, added, “just want the perfect windblume festival with my favorite pers…”  they looked up from the basket, meeting eye contact with kaeya’s periwinkle eye. but then they paused, swallowing the words. it felt like eternity or at least, the representation of seeing a text bubble appear and disappear in person, in real life. “people. y’know, rosaria, jean, lisa and you…!” 

maybe, kaeya is naive but is he picking up what they’re putting down. “i like you…”  he watched their expression carefully.

they furrowed their brows before realizing what he just said. kaeya watched name mariante what he said on their shoulders before they freaked out a little. well, a little is a stretch. they shrieked, threw hte basket up before frantically catching the basket and landed on their side. “wait, really?” 

“yes.” 

“really?” 

“yes.” 

[soothinglee]

rainy days⏤✰

lee felix x reader | 0.8k✔︎

my notes⎯ I hope you like this one! I personally love when it rains so why not combine my two favorites! lets cross our fingers and hope I can get another story out by tomorrow. also I found that I get a lot of inspo at 4 a.m, something about the peace and quiet!

warnings ⎯ none! just some (failed) light-hearted humor.

genre⎯ fluff

songs⎯ prelude in e minor, op. 28, no. 4

⎯ catalog for skz✰

the forecast on the news had told viewers that there was an expectant rain shower coming in from the south. nothing too heavy where you had to be worried about ringing out your drenched socks and fighting back when the wind upturns your umbrella.

that weather man is a liar.

the downpour that hits your windows drums in a consistent pattern, puddles of rain water pools on the window ledge, the wood begins to warp after countless efforts of stopping the leak from the cracks in the seal, ultimately ending in vain.

you had ditched the soaked towels for a warm cup of tea, wrapped in a wool blanket on your couch as a re-run of some over-rated show plays on the monitor. it had be only 30 minutes since you last heard from felix; he had texted you notifying that practices had ended early due to the unpredictable storm coming in, how chan firmly told them to stay safe on the way home and how 'fatherly like' he was acting.

in return you heart his message and send back a- he's right! no texting while driving! see you soon!

due to the rain clouds hovering over the sun the sky had darken in the short amount of time it took felix to get home, and when he did he did not try to hide it.

from the kitchen, where you were huddled over the kettle on the stove, you heard the front door smack open and seconds later a loud squelching sound.

"babe?" he drawls out, unmoving from where he stands, "can you uh, can you come here?" theres a comical desperation in his voice and you can't help the chuckle that slips from your lips.

you ditch the mug in your hand to cater to your helpless boyfriend, who stands there with his arms eagle spread, hair stuck to his forehead and neck like glue. there was a faint smell to him that started to over power the candle you had light awhile ago.

"phew," you huff, holding your nose walking towards him. a amused smile graces your lips, "you smell bad."

he rolls his eyes and lets you take his jacket off his back and watches you drop it to the floor, "yeah yeah, just hurry please? it's starting to get itchy and I don't know if its me or outside but something isn't right."

"yeah you think?" felix lets out a laugh and attempts to grab you with his wet sleeve but you manage to slip away in due time, though not without a scar. the backside of your sweater has a long wet strip in the middle of it. "look at what you did to me!"

"how about you quit complaining and help me!"

"nobody told you to go out and not bring an umbrella."

"(name)!" he takes his second jacket off and leaves it where the other lays and begins to remove his shoes. he takes a second to look at it, then at you, and then tips it over. a bucket full of water pours from the sole and onto the circle carpet underneath him.

as you stand there you can't help the horrific expression that makes its way onto your face. neither of you say a word as you watch the last couple droplets fall before you sniffle and shake your head blankly, "that's just disgusting."

felix, with the same expression says, "tell me about it, I wore it."

after a second you shake your head to clear the revulsion and go to grab all the discarded clothes. they feel ten times more heavy in your arms due to them being in a bundle so you rush towards the laundry room to leave them there. on your way you shout to felix, "go in the kitchen and finish off the tea! I started it before you came in."

Felix makes a delighted noise and you hear his bare feet smack against the floorboards, "for me?"

you roll your eyes though he can't see it and round the corner to where he stands hovering over the sugar and honey, "duh, but save me some."

"of course." his voice comes out as a soft mumble and you can't help but smile.

both of you stand there in each other company. it was peaceful, the sound of the rainfall against the roof of your apartment, fighting its way inside through the windows. the occasional clink of the spoon to the mug as felix stirs in the sugar. no bright overhead lighting, the only source of lumination was the small table lamp in the next room. you close your eyes to take it in. it made you feel serene.

a light weight is pressed onto your shoulder and you open your eyes to find felix looking at you with a glimmer of concern, "you okay?" he whispers, careful not to rip the ambiance with his voice.

you hum, a gentle smile taking over your face as you lean forward and place your head on his hand, "never felt better."

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

—

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Jason stays largely impassive as Alfred checks him out. The only “wounds” he actually managed to obtain were two long surface level cuts from a buff guy with a lucky knife, the mildest limp known to man, and some bruises. He’s got bigger stuff to worry about than what little damage he took.

Somehow Mask had gotten wind that Hood had set his eyes on his most recent purchase and had responded by borrowing some of Penguin's men while the man was in court, catching Jason off guard. That either meant that Jason was getting sloppy or his collective had a mole.

A goddamn mole. Whoever it was must’ve been stupid or crazy to think they could get this over his head. Now he’ll have to deal with them, and soon, before he starts on any more plans.

There’s a pat on his arm that has Jason turning his head.

“There you go, Master Jason. Hardly a scratch and everything is treated.”

“Didn’t pay all this money on armor to get a scratch from a whole buncha pocket knives and baseball bats, Alfred.”

The old butler only raises a brow.

“Yes well, a particularly nasty bullet wound in Master Dick’s leg says anything is possible on a given day. Armor or no,” Alfred points to the two raised lines on either side of his forearms where he’d blocked that buff guy's slash for his face. “And clearly some fellow with a pocket knife did get a knick or two in.”

Jason shrugs. The guy had been aiming for his face. His face that had only been a target because he’d blown up the old helmet to catch Batman’s attention and his forearms and following Bruce’s rules were a small price to pay for those kids' safety.

“Still beat him though, so I think I’m good,” he spares the man a small fleeting smile.

Alfred worried too much over Bruce. Jason didn’t want him doing the same and stressing overtime about him as well.

“Of course,” Alfred says softly, patting him on the arm once more before turning to check up on whether Dick’s gotten enough food in him to get another dose of the good stuff.

Why the man had decided to fly off to help Jason when he was already injured was anybody's guess. Jason certainly wasn’t going to think about it too hard. His feelings around Dick were enough of a nightmare to detangle.

Jason’s ready to take that as his leave, wanting out before Nightfall and Batman - or godforbid, his replacement - throw his entire mood away, when a lone figure comes ambling into the Cave on foot and sends everyone on alert.

Dick hobbles rather gracefully for someone with a hole in his calf over to the Batcomputer to check the entrance cameras. Alfred admonishes him for putting too much pressure on his leg so soon after he’s reopened his stitches but follows after him nonetheless.

Jason closes in not far behind the two, hand hovering over his gun as he eyes the lone figure. They’re not in a rush or anything, that’s for sure. He’s never seen someone who wanted to kill him have such low gumption.

It hits him and he relaxes his hand a second before you call out.

“It’s me, guys! I just needed a break from Bruce so I walked!”

Your voice is different, he notes. Hoarse, fraying at the edges. Jason is intimately familiar with the feeling of falling apart. At Bruce’s hand too no less, which is undoubtedly why you're walking instead of pulling up with him. He can’t find it in him to feel too bad though. You might’ve taken a bullet for him but you were still a dick. And an unplanned for variable that he’d have to search more into.

Later.

Alfred takes to guiding you towards the med bay, talking to you like you’re old friends, but Jason’s never seen you before outside of tonight. As far as he knew the only female vigilante operating out of Gotham had been Batgirl before that fucking clown got to her too, and the only other woman of the house didn’t live here anymore.

Which is yet another thing Jason really doesn’t want to think about. He had felt pretty damn vindicated to learn about Y/n’s separation from Bruce until he pieced together the timeline and that the most likely cause for the split had been himself. He can admit to feeling bad about that for her sake. When he was a boy her and Bruce had seemed happy, he didn't want to be the cause of that ending for the woman.

Something harsh strikes through his chest and he forces his gaze off Nightfall and Alfred.

He needed to tell Y/n. She deserved to know - he wanted her to know! - he just didn’t want to deal with the inevitable. With Bruce the uncertainty pissed him off. He had needed the truth so bad it burned through him harsher than the pit snapping his mind back together ever could.

Problem was that in the end the answer had actually hurt. For all his speculations and phantom conversations with the man he once happily called “dad” none had been enough to prepare him for the reality of watching his father choose The Mission over him in real time.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment of the situation but to that Jason says: “So what?”

Maybe Bruce did love him, and maybe what made him throw that batarang wasn’t resentment or disappointment, but he still threw it. Through everything Jason still came second and Bruce still didn’t love him enough to fight for him.

He can’t keep ignoring that it wasn’t him that drew Bruce to Ethiopia that April; it was the Joker that drew Batman. Bruce hadn’t even been looking for him, and he could understand why, but that didn’t mean he had to be okay with it.

Either way, the little boy Jason used to be had stupidly expected to be proven wrong in that dilapidated apartment building.

Jason hasn’t listened to that particular ghost since having to hold his throat together.

“Red!”

He blinks back into himself to find the rest of him already in a defensive position at Dick Nightwing’s proximity.

“I’ve got some files for you if you’re interested. We haven’t been able to figure out what all Mask’s recent moves have meant, but if you cross reference it with whatever info you’ve got maybe…” the look he sends Jason feels pointed so he huffs and moves closer.

“I’ll be able to catch him up. Yeah, Wing, thanks.” He crosses his arms and raises a brow. “Whatdya want for it?”

Nightwing turns to him slowly. “Nothing. I don’t want a damn thing, Red,” he shrugs. “Consider it a favor.”

“Right. A favor.”

Jason doesn’t buy that that’s all he wants for a second. The more plausible reason is that the harddrive he’ll be given is bugged. So far they haven’t been able to find any of his operation and he knows Bruce has been chomping at the bit to find out what hole in the wall he crawls into at night.

His line of speculation gets cut off by Nightwing starting to prattle along about the contents of every file he’s giving him.

“I figure I could give you an update on Penguin’s case while you’re here too,” he glances back for Jason’s stiff nod before doing just that.

Jason half pays attention to flashes of Cobblepot taking the stand while largely doing his best to remember which of his guys ever worked closely with the man who’s nice and calm being held under public scrutiny.

It was City Hall’s worst kept secret that they were bought out by some big boss or the other. Cobblepot wouldn’t be convicted and they all knew it. Gotham’s politicians couldn’t ever leave well enough alone though and just had to go the extra mile of broadcasting their cities inner failings to the rest of the country.

“Hey.”

At the sound of his voice Jason immediately snaps his gaze to Nightwing. He doesn’t look back this time, eyes continuing to stay focused on the batcomputer’s giant screen.

“I just wanna say the offer still stands. Jay,” his name comes off rough from the other’s mouth. “I might not…agree with what you’re doing, but call me and I’ll be there, okay? My number’s still the same. If you remember it?”

The not-glance Nightwing sends him makes his throat constrict suspiciously. This was exactly why he was avoiding the acrobat. He’s all the more glad he decided to get a replacement instead of toughing this encounter out sans helmet.

“Yeah, I remember it,” he forces out.

“Good.” Nightwing continues, voice still oddly pinched while he drops another file into the harddrive’s folder. “That’s good.”

The trial tapers off after that and Grayson stops drawing out their conversation, closing out the tabs he’d opened and leaning over to snatch out the drive.

When he turns to him the older’s face is noticeably paler than before and his hands are clammy when he gives Jason his lackluster reward for putting up with the night’s bullshit.

He forces his arms down to his sides when Grayson stumbles into the table, no doubt bruising his hip, before stabilizing himself again with a tiny laugh. Jason will never admit that as much as it irritates him, he still admires the way Grayson manages to keep the sound from cracking at the edges.

Ever the fucking paragon.

“Thanks,” he nods to the medbay where Alfred and Nightfall are talking as she’s bandaged up. “And go lay down already before you collapse. I will laugh at you if you fall.”

“Heh, yeah, I’d better,” he runs his hand through his hair. “If I pass out again mom’ll kill me.”

Dick’s hand pauses midway through his hair and Jason can tell from the way he goes rigid that his eyes have snapped to where he’s standing.

He huffs, shoves the drive in his pocket and gives the older a mock salute before turning on his heels. On another day he’d probably harp on Grayson for the carelessness, make him squirm just for the hell of it, but he’s reached his people index for the day and he’s got work to do.

His second mother - not counting Sheila and her shitty cigarettes; he hopes she rots - is also someone he does not want to keep being reminded of and staying here will clearly be nothing but that.

She’s a subject he unfortunately can’t stop thinking about now though and he’s so over it his head’s starting to pound.

‘mom’ll kill me.’

Mom.

Y/n.

Jason counts his way through a deep breath. He’s got Nightwing’s information, now he can leave to start sorting his own mess with his people the Bat-Refuted way.

With Y/n he wasn’t going to let himself exist with a child's placations that maybe she’d prove him wrong. He already made that mistake with Bruce. She was his mom. In the same way Bruce was once his dad, but he’s not fifteen anymore and he no longer believes wholeheartedly in the second chance they’d provided. He can’t.

But still, for whatever bastardized mockery of life is in him, he doesn’t want the truth from Y/n as well. So no matter how much he craves to hear her voice again and feel her arms around him, the chances that she’ll reject the son Bruce forced upon her this time round were too high and he was tired of gambling.

He should rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later though, for his sake if nothing else. He wasn’t finished with Gotham yet and all the ‘what ifs’ stampeding over his train of thought could get him killed too early.

Again.

And nobody wants to read about another dead gutter rat who thought he could fly.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This chapter is supposed to be a brief slow down before I get back into the emotional gutter with part five.

I’m like 50/50 on this. I was trying to make everything connect but I don’t really think I succeeded. And what I mean by that is that some of Jason’s thought processes don’t flow smoothly into one another the way I want, but I’m tired of poking at it so this is what y’all get.

Regardless, I’m not mad at it and if you’d like to leave a comment that’d be appreciated, but I won’t respond cause this is a sideblog. I read everything though. 🫶🏾

Edited (cause I forgot what I wrote) on 3/18/23

[volklana]

I Could Drown Myself In Someone Like You

Part One

Title Comes From This Song:

You can find my other Biker!Bucky fic here:

Request: Hey girl I literally just found your blog and when I tell you I BINGED your Ride series. Please I beg could we have some more Biker Bucky? Maybe barmaid reader? I really don't mind as long as we get some BikerBuck!

Warnings: Mentions of unwanted physical attention. Future chapters will allude to past domestic abuse. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Bucky pulled his bike into the parking lot of his bar and grill.

A customer stepped outside to light a cigarette and the light from inside spilled out into the dark, along with the music playing inside. 

Bucky was nothing if not a creature of habit, every night he would ride his bike through winding forest roads, down to the creek, and sometimes he would lay on the riverbank smoking cigarettes like he and Steve used to do when they were teenagers, before they’d gone to war, before he’d been fucked up. Before he became whatever this version of himself was.

And then in the evenings he’d pull up here to his bar and drink nearly not enough whisky to drown out the nightmares in his cabin behind the bar. 

Sighing, he let himself into the bar. Steve as always was pouring drinks and chatting easily in that light hearted way he had, Bucky would have been envious if he hadn’t loved him so much. Steve had managed to hold on to all the best parts of himself, but Bucky’s were buried somewhere in a bunker in the Middle East, and even if he wanted to, he could never get them back. 

Sam was busy flipping steaks at the grill and gave Bucky a wide eyed grin as Bucky passed him by and pushed the swing door into the back office.

He stilled all action at the sight of a girl in his office on top of his chair, on her tiptoes still unable to reach the top shelf as she fumbled to reach something.

“Can I help you?” he said gruffly and god damn if he didn’t startle you half to death and nearly cause you to fall off the chair. 

“I’m looking for the grenadine syrup, Steve said I would find it up here.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Bucky laughed “And did he also tell you it was fine to climb all over my shit in the process?”

“No, Sir,” you offered meekly, stepping gently down off his chair “I’m sorry,” but you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to spread across your face. 

Bucky huffed and reached over your head with ease, pressing the bottle of grenadine into your hand.

“Next time Steve sends you on a mission like that, tell him to pull his lazy, tall ass in here and reach the damn top shelf himself,” 

You smiled up at him, and he felt the ghost of a butterfly in his stomach.

“I’m y/n,” you offered with a smile and he couldn’t help but return a lopsided one himself.

“Bucky,” he returned. 

Bucky made your mouth water, his tight black jeans were ripped at the knees, and he wore a well worn leather jacket but it did absolutely nothing to hide his muscular frame, his hair was long and messy and was just begging for you to run your hands through it. You had to shake all thoughts of him from your head as you returned to your shift.

“What’s her story?” Bucky asked Steve, eyeing you as you made your rounds and he sipped on his whisky.

“Why do you assume she has a story?” Steve cocked his head now following you in his line of sight too.

“C’mon Steve, no one ends up here unless they have a story. They’re either running away from something, or someone. Or they’re on their way to somewhere else, and they’re simply stopping off here.” 

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, clapping him on the back “You always assume the worst in people.” 

“And they always prove me right,” Bucky countered while taking another sip.

As you finished mopping the floor, you made your way into the back office, looking shy, wringing your hands, nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“Sam said to talk to you about if it would be okay to get this week’s wages upright,” Bucky could see straight away how embarrassed you were “Bucky I wouldn’t ask, but the bnb are asking for payment upright and I’m just 40 bucks short.” 

Bucky was reaching into his wallet straight away and you tried to put out a hand to stop him.

“Please..Please,” Bucky shook his hand and handed you some notes, you scrunched your eyebrow at his kindness.

“Take this for tonight and I’ll get you your full wages for your shift tomorrow.”

“I’ll pay you back Sir,” you said, voice so low it was almost a whisper and he shook his head softly.

“Let me give you a ride back,” he offered and you shook your head profusely.

“You’ve done enough for me tonight,” you reminded him, notes in your hand, “I’ll see you tomorrow for my shift.” 

Bucky watched you go, and again that ghost of a butterfly fluttered in his stomach and he grimaced uncomfortably.

Bucky watched you over the next few nights, always the first to your shift and always the last to leave.

And every night you refused any offer to drive you home from him, Sam or Steve. 

He was filling out papers in his office when he heard a gentle knock and you were before him.

“I wanted to give you this,” you said meekly with some notes in your hand , “I can’t thank you enough Bucky.”

“Doll,” he sighed, surprising even himself with the nickname “Please keep it, consider it a welcome gift.”

“If it’s all the same I would like to give it back to you,” you smiled, placing it on his desk “It was awful kind of you and I’ll never forget it.” 

Before he could even respond you had dipped out of his office and began your shift.

The bar went quiet when a particularly menacing looking gang wandered into the bar, and immediately Steve and Sam stood to attention, you were in the back fetching more pitchers.

They seemed to be scouting the area out before choosing a table at the opposite end of the bar to settle at.

Steve caught your arm as you went to take their orders “Be careful,” he nodded towards them and you went to take their orders gingerly. 

Amid the wolf whistles and cat-calls you finally managed to take their orders, which you promptly relayed to Sam and Steve. 

After you had successfully served their food and first round of drinks, you retreated to behind the bar before they summoned you back again. 

“C’mere baby,” one of them slurred pulling you onto his lap.

You initially tried to laugh off how uncomfortable you were, but when he wouldn’t let you wrangle free, you felt trapped and felt your panic begin to rise. 

“Let me go,” you tried weakly when he began to try kissing your face, trapping your hands in his much stronger ones, you tried to make pleading eye contact with Steve but he was nowhere to be seen.

As he let go of your hands to toy with the waistband of your denim jeans you finally managed to bolt free, but when he grabbed your arm and spun you around you reacted with a swift slap to his face, shocking even yourself, but you were in no way expecting the sharp sting of a returning slap, tears welling in your eyes and hand flying up instinctively to your burning skin. 

Everything else passed by in a blur as you recognised Steve and Bucky kicking into action, you just about managed to get your feet to move before you were collapsing down behind the bar, feeling the all too familiar feeling of a panic attack ripping through your body and the awful sensation of not being able to breath.

It seemed like hours before Bucky was before you where you sat, rocking back and forward, hands covering your ears.

“Doll,” he tried and you cowered away from him, he got down on his hunkers and gingerly reached for you, “it’s me doll, it’s Bucky. Breathe for me. Breathe for me.” 

When you finally felt like you could breathe again Bucky went to fetch a glass of water and leaned up against the counter, arms folded, he examined you over, eyes honing in on the red, swollen skin of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” you finally broke the silence, refusing to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he shushed, dropping down to his hunkers in front of you again “You have nothing to apologise for!” 

You couldn’t help the tears that sprung to your eyes with shame and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

You rolled your eyes and sniffed, “This was meant to be a fresh start, and it seems like trouble just follows me wherever I go.”

“What can I do doll?” Bucky said softly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on your knee, it was only then you realised his knuckles were bloody.

You realised with a startle that he had got his knuckles bloody for you.

“Can you take me home Buck,” you asked swiping your thumb over his knuckles, your silent thank you for the trouble they had gone to on your behalf. 

Bucky pulled into the parking space of the bnb, and helped you take your motorcycle helmet off. 

It had been weeks since you first reached town and Bucky was curious.

“What are you still doing here? You don’t want to find somewhere proper?” 

“Nobody will rent to me,” you said sadly “I’ve tried everywhere. Even that shack out by the creek that’s been abandoned since before we were born. Nobody wants to rent to me because I’m an outsider.” 

Bucky was suddenly angry at how the town had been treating you.

“Thank you for taking me home and I’m so sorry about tonight,” you said softly and Bucky turned to examine your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, your eyes fluttered closed at the touch and something jolted inside Bucky.

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispered and you nodded softly.

You stood gently on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow Buck.” 

Bucky tossed and turned all night. He had briefly fallen asleep only to once again be woken by a nightmare. The same one. That same bunker. That same chair. But then something unexpected, when he tried to close his eyes again, your eyes were staring back at him, and if he was honest that was what was keeping him awake. He knew he was in trouble….

“Keep your coat on y/n,” Bucky ordered as you arrived for your shift.

“What? Why?” you cried, fearing you were being let go, Bucky huffed a laugh at your horrified expression, “Doll, you’re not fired. We’re taking a little road trip.” 

You climbed onto his bike and held on tight to his torso, winding through Californian redwoods, the mountain air all around you.

Bucky finally pulled onto a little dirt track that led up to an opening in the trees and a singular cabin stood against the backdrop of a small lake. 

“Come on,” he motioned, removing your helmet, and leading you inside.

It was cosy, the living room and kitchen were open plan and there was an old cast iron log burner in the middle of the room with logs stacked either side of it.

There was one room off the side which you assumed was the bedroom.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky asked motioning around.

“It’s beautiful Buck,” you said, still unsure why he had brought you here “It’s a beautiful home.” 

“It’s yours,” Bucky stated simply, back turned to you and  hands on his hips.

“What?” you almost shrieked and he replied in the same nonchalant tone “It’s yours!” 

“Bucky, wait!” you deadpanned, catching his shoulder and forcing him to turn around to look at you, eyes scanning his face until he conceded.

“It was my Mom’s cottage, and seeing as she’s not here anymore and I’ve got my place at the bar, I think you should have it, you can’t stay at that bnb forever. You need a place of your own.Plus it’s about time some life was breathed back into this place ” 

“Buck,” you cried, eyes watering, not letting go of your hold on him “Are you sure?”

“It’s yours doll,” he whispered, eyes flicking briefly down to your lips, “For as long as you choose to stay, and I hope you do stay, it’s yours,” 

You extended your hand out to him “You take the rent out of my wages,” you ordered, waiting for him to shake on your deal.

“Doll,” he sighed “The place was lying empty, I'm not going to charge you rent,” you looked like you were about to argue when he stuck his hand out too, “Counter offer, if you do this place up. Make it somewhere lived in and beautiful. Somewhere my Ma would be proud to look down on, then we’re quits.”

You nodded and shook his hand ferociously, tears threatening to spill.

“Thank you Bucky,” you whispered, pulling him into a hug and relishing in the feel of his strong arms around you, and your heart hammered in your chest when he placed a gentle kiss on your head.

After a month or two of working at the bar you had saved enough to buy a second hand, beaten up old pickup truck, and Sam brought you out to pick it up.

“Are you sure you want this hunk of junk y/n?” he argued but you were enamored and being able to drive it home to your cabin filled you with an enormous amount of peace. 

You had been growing closer and closer with Bucky, sometimes he would stop by on your days off to do some of the diy you pestered him about on your shifts and if you were honest you really enjoyed the company.

The first few nights on your own in the cabin had been nothing short of terrifying. You weren’t used to being alone and on the second night a huge storm knocked all your power out and you shivered in bed all night terrified of the darkness.

Bucky came around the next morning and fixed your generator so that would never happen again. 

“There,” Bucky sighed “All done!” 

You came to join him on the porch and passed him a bottle of beer and he flicked a switch and the fairy lights he had hung all around the cottage flickered to light.

“They’re beautiful Buck,” you smiled, hugging him tightly, eyes lighting up like a child as you looked up at them. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said softly, hands coming to rest on your waist, and his breath on your neck made you shiver.

“Bucky,” you tried softly but he cut you off with a kiss. You melted into his touch completely and he gently became more ferocious in the way he clasped your body and kissed your lips. 

He backed you through the open door of the cottage until you collapsed down on the sofa and he climbed on top of you, he was making quick work of your shirt when you finally came to your senses.

“Wait, Wait,” you panted, hands planting on his chest “Maybe we should slow down for a moment.” 

“You want me to slow it down baby doll?” he panted and you nodded gently.

“I’m not ready Buck,” you cried and Bucky suddenly noticed how terrified you looked, feeling guilty that he had pushed you to a place you weren’t ready for yet.

“I can wait babygirl,” he promised, cupping your face in both of his hands “I can wait.” 

“Bucky, no. No.” you cried, pushing him away with your leg and running your hands through your hair, “I can’t do this,” you cried. 

Bucky sat still on your sofa not quite sure what to do for a moment “You don’t want this?”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes “It’s not that Buck, it's just I can’t be what you need right now. I can’t be with you like this.”

“What do you think I need?” he rose gently “All I need is you,” he countered

“Hey, hey, why are you crying?” he shushed brushing your hair behind your ears “Don’t cry.”

“Please Buck,” you were pleading, “Please can you just leave, I can't do this. It’s too much for me.”

Bucky was torn between wanting to assure you some more and respecting your request for him to leave. He hesitated just a moment too long for you to take it the wrong way completely, your eyes were wide and ferocious like an animal that had been cornered.

He scratched the back of his neck before he could find his voice “Doll, if I’ve read this wrong-”

“-You have,” you snapped “You’ve read this wrong and I need you to leave now, please,” you paced until you found his leather jacket hanging across the back of a chair and tossed it to him.

He couldn’t help the anger of rejection that rose up in his chest, and the shame for having read the situation so wrong.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going,” he sighed, pulling his jacket on and stomping towards the door.

“You know what..” he started one hand on the handle, but stopping to face you “Forget it,” he deadpanned, pulling the door open and slamming it behind him.

Work the next few days were less awkward than expected, Bucky and his bike were nowhere to be seen. You’d heard Steve mention to Sam that he was worried that Bucky was gone on another whisky fuelled bender and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt that gnawed away at your stomach.

Days turned into a week with no contact from Bucky and the guilt was eating you alive. You had texted him days ago to apologise, and asking if you could talk it out and explain, but he never replied. Not only were you angry with yourself for fucking everything up but now you were really beginning to worry. 

You were closing the bar by yourself tonight, it was a quiet Tuesday night and business was slow. You knew Steve had a date after work so you dismissed him early so he could go buy her some flowers he’d kissed you on the cheek and almost skipped out of the bar.

It gave you the opportunity to pop your headphones in and listen to your music as you mopped and cleaned. 

It was nice to do a deep a clean without Steve or Sam trying to hurry you out. 

And as you made your way into the back office to put away the takings into the safe your heart almost fell out of your chest.

Bucky was laying back in his office chair, eyes squeezed shut while some girl with her skirt hitched up at the sides was grinding her hips on him, her own head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode him. 

You froze on the spot, you couldn't help the way your stomach sank to your toes in a feeling of betrayal, or the way your eyes stung with tears.

Bucky wasn’t yours, you had seen to that with your stupidity the other night so you had no right to feel the way you were right now and when his electric eyes suddenly bore into yours with an expression you honestly couldn’t read you were backing out of his office quicker than lightning. 

He followed you out into the carpark catching you just as you were about to climb into your truck. 

“Doll,” he reached for you exasperated, “Doll wait, please.” 

You turned to face him, tears rolling down your cheeks, and he reached for you gently, relieved when you didn’t bat him away as he cupped your face.

“I have no right to be crying,” you sighed.

“I don’t understand,” He stuttered, somewhere between annoyed and confused,” I thought you didn’t want me?”

“Bucky, of course I-” You were about to answer when Bucky’s name being yelled across the lot caught both of your attention.

“What the fuck is this?”  The girl who had been with Bucky only moments before came storming over and smacked him straight across the face as hard as she could.

“You always fucking do this shit James,” she cried “This is the last fucking time.”

She looked at you genuinely hurt and for a moment you wanted to apologise, until her expression turned to contempt. 

“Seriously, this is who you keep blowing me off for?” she huffed out a laugh, “Good luck with that, you’ll be crawling back to me in no time.” You felt yourself shrink down to half your size under her words.

She took one last seething glare at Bucky before smacking him again and he made no move to stop her, watching guiltily as she stormed away.

“I deserved that,” he said glumly, you made a face to argue when he cut you off, “No doll, I truly deserve it. Hell if you wanted to have a pop too I would understand.” 

 “Buck,I don’t want to slap you” you sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before kicking at the dirt.

“Then what the hell do you want y/n? Goddamn it.”

You were floundering like a fish out of water, trying to grasp at words and coming up short.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you tried and he cut you off with a pointed finger.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he warned “You literally could not throw me out faster the other day and then you turn up crying when I’m clearly fucking trying to get over you so what is it? You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?”  

“No,” you scoffed, your own anger rising now too.

“No” he repeated exasperatedly, “So what do you want?”

“I- I don’t know,” you mumbled. 

“You don’t know?” he goaded and goddamn was he intimidating, looking at you like a predator stalks his prey, waiting for an answer to pounce “Well, I sure as shit can’t figure that out for you sweetheart,” he sighed, running the back of his hand across his lips, before spitting on the ground. 

You were not used to this Bucky, this agitated, whiskey drunk version of him. The one most people were used to. But not you.

“Look, just go,” he sighed eventually, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I don’t know what you want, but it sure as shit ain’t me. And I'm done with whatever the fuck this is.”

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, tears welling in your eyes as you reached for the handle of your truck door and pulled it open, gasping back in fright when Bucky slammed it closed suddenly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked like he was going to yell at you but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Please don’t go,” 

Trapped between his body and the door of your truck you melted into his touch, whimpering as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his own demanding ones.

Tagging:

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A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

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Chapter 1 - Know Your Cats

Chapter word count: 4.4k words

It was cold.

The winter wind hit your cheeks mercilessly, bringing a chill down your spine and making you shiver.

Why me?  You thought, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but not daring to fall yet. Crying made you tired, and you were already tired enough. Your feet were swollen from the walking, your arms sore from carrying the small bag with the few items you managed to take with you, and your back hurt from the weight of your ever-growing belly.

7 months.

That’s how long you’ve been pregnant for.

You were one of the unlucky ones who didn’t see pregnancy as this wonderful miracle the media made it out to be. For you, it was the most horrible thing you could’ve gone through. 

The first three months, you’ve been sick and felt the need to throw up each time you smelled anything. Anything. The next 3 months, you’ve felt so tired, you could barely get out of bed. Another nail in the coffin of your relationship. It also didn’t help that your partner has been borderline abusive ever since you told him about the baby – which was the very reason you’ve left at this late hour basically penniless.

And now, the cravings. Damn, these fucking cravings – what made you stop in front of a small restaurant called “Know your Cats”.

What a strange name, you thought and chuckled a bit.

From outside, “Know your Cats” looked like a cosy place. There didn’t seem to be too many people in, probably because of the late hour, but whatever they ordered smelled amazing. You wanted to eat it so badly. So, you went in and sat down at one of the tables in the corner of the small restaurant, as far away as possible from other people. You didn’t dare to take off your winter coat yet, but inside was warm. So warm, it almost warmed up your heart too.

Soon enough, a young waiter approached you.

“Good evening, ma’am, what can I get for you? Considering that I haven’t seen you here before, it must be the first time you come to our restaurant. So, maybe I could bring you something to drink while you consult the menu. Maybe some water?” he spoke quickly in a friendly tone and pulled out a pen and a small notebook.

Watching him talk so fast was pretty funny to you, you thought his chubby cheeks looked amusing when so many words per second would get out of his mouth.

“Uhm… sorry, but…” you didn’t dare raise your head, aware of the light bulb towering above you. After all, you’ve chosen to leave home at such a late hour for two reasons:

1. Your partner was away God knows where.

2. The dark bruises all over you. Ah, and your busted lip, the accessory that completed your look. The cherry on top.

However, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it.

“… I was wondering what the people over there are having… it smells really good.”

“Oh, thank you! That’s our dear owner’s speciality! A secret recipe, if you will!”

The boy’s excitement brought a smile to your lips.

“It’s really just a fancy pork ragu.” He whispered, winking.

“Could I please know how much a serving costs?” you spoke quietly, counting in your head how much money you had in your pocket.

$7. Yes, that’s all your dear partner left for you to get some food when he left “on a business trip” 5 days ago. You knew that this was just code for cheating, and you cursed yourself yet again for not keeping your job 5 months ago when your pregnancy symptoms started getting worse. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have endured his abuse for so long.

God, how could you have been so stupid? You weren’t even married, yet you let yourself become completely dependent on him as soon as the pregnancy test came out positive. You let him drag you down, comment on your weight, physically and financially abuse you, yet you stayed for so long. The thought of homelessness weighed heavier than everything else you’ve experienced living with him, until it didn’t.

“That’s $15. Would you also like something to drink with it? I heard orange juice is one of the best drinks to have while pregnant, and the owner makes a delicious one!”

$15. But you only had $7.

He scribbled something in the notepad and kept talking, but you didn’t even hear anything else he said. You just felt your eyes swell up with tears again, your vision getting blurry.

You were so hungry.

You started petting your belly and thought of the small child growing inside of you. There were no words to describe how terrible you felt for putting your future child through this. If you were alone, you wouldn’t mind going hungry, but knowing that you were hurting someone else as well – someone you loved so much already – was killing you.

“I… I can’t afford that…” you smiled bitterly, your voice so quiet, barely audible. “Maybe… there’s something on your menu that’s $7 or less?”

“I don’t think…” the young waiter rubbed his nape apologetically.

“That’s- that’s okay, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” You tightened the coat around your frame and prepared yourself mentally to get up and face the cold again.

Where were you going to go?

You didn’t want to think about it. But oh, you should’ve. You should’ve thought about it long ago and made a viable escape plan. Instead, you left with a small bag, $7 in your pockets and an almost empty phone. You also threw out your keys in one of the trash cans around the building you lived in with your partner, just to make sure you wouldn’t return.

“You know what, please wait a second. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” The young waiter said quickly and turned his back at you, hurrying towards the counter.

Like you had anywhere you could go.

~

“Hey, everything good? What’s got you running like that?” Minho started, amused by Han’s speed so late in the evening.

“Hyung, what should we do?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

“There’s this woman – I don’t have all the details, obviously, but she looks… she has bruises all over. And she’s pregnant. And she only has $7 and-”

“Hey, slow down a bit, will you?”

“What I’m saying is” – he inhaled loudly – “let’s give her some food on the house. What do you think?”

“And why would we do that?” Minho raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, don’t be so cold. Let’s help her! Please???”

“Why should we? We don’t owe anyone anything. Who comes to a restaurant with no money anyway?” Minho cursed out.

“You know what? Just go over there and see for yourself, if you don’t want to give her anything on the house, then I’ll pay for her meal myself! Greedy bastard.” Han replied in an annoyed tone.

“Yah, it’s not like business’ been going so well lately, asshole!” Minho rolled his eyes and cursed him out.

However, he wasn’t actually as indifferent as he wanted to seem – and he couldn’t ignore what Han said either. Maybe that’s what made him so special in his friend’s eyes. So, Minho went and grabbed a glass of some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Han said she was pregnant, maybe she has morning sickness? He thought, so he poured out some ginger tea as well. That helped Chan’s wife – one of his closest friends – when she was pregnant. It should help you too, right?

With a glass of juice in his right hand and a cup of tea in his left, he made his way over the bar to the only occupied corner in the room. The loud table in the middle of the restaurant motioned for him to come and requested the check, but Han was right behind Minho, so he took care of them in an instant, seeing them out and locking the door behind them, making sure to turn the “Closed” sign around.

~

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two glass objects hitting the table.

You raised your head and noticed a glass filled with what you assumed to be orange juice, and a cup with a lid on top, but before you could investigate what was in it, the fresh smell hit your nostrils, bringing a smile on your face.

Ginger tea, your favourite.

A good-looking man took the seat in front of you. He was very beautiful. It was like his face was painted by a skilled artist – his mouth, nose and eyelashes looked perfect, and his skin was flawless, almost making you jealous.

Boys always have the best eyelashes. You thought, glossing over his features once more.

You quickly noticed that what you liked the most about him were his eyes. A deep shade of brown orbs that glistened like stars under the restaurant’s light. And they were looking right at you, observing your every move and mannerism. Catching a glimpse of your own reflection in his eyes made you unwittingly frown.

You noticed quickly what he was wearing: a casual shirt and jeans and an apron. Is he the chef? You questioned, but before you could say anything, the man introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Minho, the owner of the restaurant. Please.” He said, a kind smile forming in the corners of his mouth, while pointing at the drinks he brought.

“Hello, Minho. Thank you.” You smiled back and took a small sip of the orange juice. “This tastes nice. I’m Dal-Rae, by the way.”

Dal-Rae… Minho analysed your name in his head for a few seconds, thinking about how pretty it sounds. And looking at you, it seemed fitting, somehow.

Even with how tired your figure was, Minho could still be able to see behind the fatigue and notice your beautiful features.

“Nice to meet you, Dal-Rae, and welcome to Know your Cats.” He gestured proudly to the restaurant, making you chuckle.

“That’s a very funny name. What’s the inspiration behind it?”

“Well, that would be my three cats.”

“Oh my God, you have three cats?! That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, excited by the new information.

“You think so? Do you like cats?” He asked, his eyes sparkling.

“I love them! I always wanted one but…” but you never considered yourself responsible enough to take care of yourself, let alone of another living, breathing being. Or at least that’s what your partner made you believe about yourself the whole time you lived with him.

“You will never be a good mother” he would tell you. “You wouldn’t even be able to take care of a hamster, let alone a cat. And now you’re pregnant?! How will someone as horrible as you take care of a baby?! Don’t make me laugh!”

And you always believed him. After all, he knew you so well. Right?

“So, why did you keep it? Are you that self-centred? Did you really have to do this so I’ll never leave you?” he would scream at you, forgetting that it took two to tango. Forgetting that he was the one that took off the condom without your knowledge and permission so many months ago.

“You wanna see some pics?” Minho smiled genuinely and took out his phone, shifting your focus back at him. He seemed very hopeful that you would say yes, for some reason.

“I’d love to!” You replied honestly. You truly loved cats. They were adorable balls of fur, and you would cuddle with them all day if given the chance.

“That’s great! Okay, but before that… Jisung? Please bring out some servings of the special recipe for us, will you?” he spoke, and then opened his gallery and started showing you cute pictures of his three cats.

You learnt that their names were Soonie, Doongie and Dori and you pretty much remembered which was which from the first picture he showed you, something that truly surprised Minho. Not even Han knew all their names, and even if he would somehow remember them, he would mix up Doongie and Soonie. But for real now, was it so difficult to remember that Soonie had stripes and Doongie had a white belly? Come on!

“By the way, you can make yourself comfortable and take off your jacket. You must be hot with so many layers on you.” He got up and helped you with your winter coat, placing it neatly on a chair next to you.

“Oh, thank you…”

Jisung brought the food soon after you and Minho made some more small talk. He brought three servings with him and placed a plate in front of you, one in front of Minho and one in front of an empty seat, which he was quick to take.

Both Han and Minho started eating, but you felt a bit… weird. Out of place.

“Anything wrong?” Minho asked concerned, noticing that you didn’t even put your hand on the spoon.

“I… I really can’t… pay for this, unless… you accept $7?” You asked unsure and grabbed the crumbled notes from your coat pockets. You tried straightening out the notes as well as you could, but when you handed it to Minho, you noticed he looked at you with a big frown on his face, his eyes immediately softening.

He put his hands on the one hand you gave him that was still holding the money, and made you close it into a fist. It was his way of telling you that you should keep it.

“Don’t worry about it, you already paid when you listened to this weirdo talk about his cats for 15 minutes straight.” Han replied and patted your shoulder, as if he was comforting you for enduring so much.

“Yah, loudmouth, shut it!” Minho retorted. “And you better start eating while it’s still hot.” He took the spoon in front of you off the table and looked at you expectantly, as you hesitantly put the money back in your coat. When you were done, he placed the spoon in your right hand, gesturing to the food. “Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you myself?” He kept looking at you, coercing you into trying a bite.

And damn, were you right! It not only smelled amazing, but it tasted heavenly.

“Fuck me, this is so good!” You said with no filter, forgetting for a moment that the men in front of you were, in fact, not your friends.

But eating with them did feel like getting food with a friend. Maybe that’s why you relaxed so much and spoke your mind freely, for what felt like the first time in years. You were not allowed to curse when you lived with your ex. It would start a raging fit from him, because “What kind of woman has such a rotten mouth?”, and you would regret opening your mouth and saying anything.

“Oops, excuse me!” you said, covering your mouth with your hands.

The two men, however, seemed to not mind your lack of manners, and started cheering when you told them that you loved the food.

~

“Thank you so much for this.” You said to Minho, both of you looking at how Han cleaned up the now empty table in the middle of the room. “Truly.”

“No worries.” Minho replied nonchalantly, his eyes darting away from you. Despite his indifferent tone, his mannerisms indicated that he’s somewhat nervous, as he rubbed his nape in slight embarrassment.

“I… uhm… really feel bad for not paying you at all for this. Like I said, I can only give you this much, but…” you grabbed your coat so you could take out the money again, but before you were able to do so, Minho stopped you by placing his hand on your wrist.

“Please keep them, that’s okay.”

“But…”

“I’m serious.” He looked straight at you, his glance alone convincing you to let it go. You didn’t want to risk annoying him, and it seemed your conversation would take that direction if you kept insisting.

“Okay. Uhm… I should take my leave now.” You said, petting your belly and grabbing your small hand luggage.

“Where are you going? Home…?” Minho treaded carefully, his words holding an inexplicable weight over you.

Home… I don’t have a home anymore.

You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts away, and tried thinking logically for once. Where could you go?

Letting out a small sigh, you replied, slightly dejected.

“Well… there should be a women's shelter about 4 km from here.”

“4 km?! Don’t tell me you plan on walking over there at 1 am in the middle of a winter night.”

You didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, and nor did Minho. He shouldn’t give two shits for a stranger, but he was somehow… worried for you?

“I mean… I don’t really have a choice… It’s not that far. I can make it. It’s only an hour walk away.” You replied, trying to convince him and yourself as well. The truth was that you were so tired, you could fall asleep if you put your head on the table, and your feet hurt so bad.

Being pregnant sucked.

“Let me take you. Jisung will be done in a minute and then we can go.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly- You already helped me so much.”

“I don’t even wanna hear it. Han, hurry up!”

“THERE’S STILL THE DISHES LEFT, HYUNG!”

“Just leave them. I’ll do them tomorrow morning.”

“OKAY THEN! I’M COMING!”

Without a second thought, Minho grabbed your bag and gestured to you that you could now go. Han went his own way, while Minho guided you to his car, in the opposite direction.

He opened the door for you and helped you in, actions that somehow made your stomach clench. No one’s acted so nice towards you. Ever.

And he was doing that for a complete stranger.

He started the car and drove to the destination you put in the GPS, and for the first time in your life, you felt an overwhelming feeling of safety. How funny it was – to feel so safe next to a stranger, when you haven’t once felt safe next to your so-called boyfriend – or rather, ex.

You were once again on the verge of crying as you’ve made this realisation in your head. How come you felt safe next to Minho? Was this really how you were supposed to feel next to someone else? Relieved, protected…

How come you’ve never felt this way before, next to your ex?

The 4-minute drive would’ve taken you more than an hour walk in the cold, so you now appreciated Minho even more for giving you a ride.

“So, this is it, right?” He said, parking in front of a small building that had all the lights off.

Weird, you thought and nodded unsure.

You both got out of the car and walked towards the building’s door, a small paper on it drawing your attention, almost burning your eyes.

“Unfortunately, due to a funding issue, the “Stay Safe” Women Shelter had to shut down indefinitely. In case of emergency, we recommend contacting our affiliate, “House of Hope” Homeless Shelter (+0X 0XXXXXXXXX) and they should offer you the help you need. We apologise for any inconvenience!”

The way your face dropped did not go unnoticed by Minho. It became clear to him that this has been your only escape route.

You slowly took out your phone from your pocket and clumsily formed the number on the paper, barely able to see with your screen’s brightness so low. You couldn’t turn it up though, since your battery percentage was so low, so you struggled and squinted your eyes, carefully pressing on each number on your phone, which proved to be so much more difficult through the tears building up in your eyes. It was getting harder and harder to swallow back the lump in your throat.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“House of Hope Homeless Shelter, this is Kelly, how may I assist you?”

“Good evening… I am contacting you because I needed some help and… I was just in front of the Stay Safe Shelter…”

“Oh, good evening, ma’am. Were you looking for a place to stay tonight?”

“Not just tonight… I don’t know for how long…”

“Are you alone, or are there also kids with you?”

“It’s just me… I’m 7 months pregnant.”

“We understand… Unfortunately, our shelter is full at the moment. The government retracted most of our funding, so these are difficult times. However, if you would be able to wait for a few minutes, I will try to contact other shelters to see if anyone would be able to take you in for now.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will get back to you shortly.”

~

You let Minho know of the phone conversation and told him to head home, but he was adamant you would leave with him, or at least wait for the phone call in the comfort of the heated car. After some convincing, you found each other listening to some slow songs on the radio, enjoying the car’s warmth and watching the year’s first snow through the windshield.

Despite the peaceful atmosphere, you were restless and anxious. Your hands were trembling, and you couldn’t think straight. Where else would you go?

Minho didn’t say anything either. He kept thinking of ways to calm you down: should he lay his hand on top of yours and tell you that everything was going to be okay? Should he say anything at all? Why was he still with you, anyway?

You tried to think of anything else and ignore the feeling of impending doom settling in your stomach, so you looked out the window. Small snowflakes would land on the car’s hood and immediately turn to water due to the heat.

Your eyes would dart to Minho from time to time, who seemed to be lost in his own little world as he watched the same scene in front of you - the snowflakes dancing in the sky and landing on the car - and you remembered that one belief that watching the first snowfall of the year with someone would lead to falling in love with them. However, it felt like such a foolish thought, you immediately let it go.

25 minutes later, your phone’s ringtone snapped you both out of your trance. You made a mental note to change your ringtone after how anxious it made you feel right now, being sure that you won’t be able to keep hearing it again after this horrendous day.

“Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am? We apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, we were unable to find any shelter close to your location that would be able to accommodate you for tonight. We recommend going to a police station and asking for help, and you could try calling again tomorrow, when possible new resources would be available.”

“I… Seriously?” You started, but when the lady started apologising countless times on the phone for not being able to help you out, you simply ended the call. You wished the earth would swallow you whole, making you disappear for good.

But then you slapped yourself mentally. How could you be so selfish as to wish to disappear? You were not alone anymore. Your body was not yours alone anymore, and your baby didn’t deserve any of your selfish thoughts. You needed to be strong.

“What did they say?” Minho asked anxiously.

Why was he feeling like this anyway? This was so stupid, you thought. You’re no one. You’re just a random woman who stumbled upon his restaurant and took advantage of his kindness.

“They… they aren’t able to help me, so they recommended I go to a police station for tonight. Perhaps tomorrow, they’ll make some room…”

“Then, should we go to a police station…?” Minho hesitated.

You snorted and turned to him, answering in a more annoyed tone than you would’ve liked to.

“Do you think I can go to the police looking like this?!”

Minho’s eyes grew wide, conveyed in them what could only be described as shock. You didn’t want to lose your cool, not against this man who’s been nothing but kind to you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just… I’m very stressed right now and that didn’t come out as I wanted it to, and-”

“Why? Why can’t you go to the police? Are you trying to protect whoever did this to you?!” Minho cut you off and replied in an equally annoyed tone as you. However, despite the harshness in his voice, you didn’t get the feeling that he was angry. Instead, it felt more like he was scolding you.

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’m scared, okay? I’m scared they will ask me questions and when I tell them the truth, he’ll find out and come get me. He’ll… he’ll definitely find out. He’ll find me, and I’m scared of him. I just want me and my baby to be safe!” You continued, losing your composure for a moment and allowing this dreadful weakness to take over you. You started crying and placed your face steady between your palms, thinking about how pathetic you were being.

“Okay, you know what? I’m sure you are very tired right now.” He put one hand on top of your head and petted it gently, making you raise your face and look at him. His eyes were kind and assuring. “Resting is also good for the baby.” He continued, and as he said that, he put the car into gear and drove off.

“Where…?” you tried to ask, confused, but you ended up choking on a sob.

“Back to the restaurant. I have some extra rooms. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll clear your head and be able to think better.”

“Minho…” you sobbed. “Really? I… I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Dal-Rae. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure everything out tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, but… are you sure…?”

“Mhm.” Minho brushed you off with his hand and continued driving, both of you staying silent, listening to the soft tunes on the radio.

When you arrived, Minho led you upstairs. You were surprised that the place had stairs in the first place, since you didn’t notice them earlier. On the top of the stairs, a door was separating the restaurant and the three-bedroom apartment Minho lived in.

“It’s so the cats don’t go out.” he explained, and you understood what he meant as soon as he opened the door and Dori came running and screaming at the both of you.

“What’s up? Hungry?” Minho replied and scratched Dori’s chin, and as the sounds of his voice rang throughout the apartment, Doongie and Soonie spawned out of nowhere as well.

“Oh my god, hi babies!” You exclaimed and smiled, quickly placing yourself on your knees to pet them, since you couldn’t exactly bend, your belly being so large by now.

You didn’t notice Minho’s smile. He was stuck looking at how quickly his cats accepted you and let you scratch their fur, Soonie even purring against your stomach and petting itself on it lovingly.

“Okay, enough playing, it’s late. Let’s get you up.” Minho put his palms under your arms and lifted you from the ground like you were a kid, bringing a slight chuckle to your lips.

---

Chapter 2

[kindnessisweakness2]

9

Since Jax convinced her to come back to the party, Emily had to admit she was having a good time. Her and Jax sat at the bar surrounded by his brothers all telling stories in their drunken stupour. Jax's hand never left her as she sat on the stool next to him, moving between her thigh, hip or around her shoulders. She had to admit that it was nice. His warmth radiating through her. "Hey Jax." Emily watched as the young blonde barely clothed woman draped herself over him. She kicked herself mentally when she felt it. The stomach punch. She barely knew him. And as much as she would've liked to pull the ditzy blonde by her bottle bleached hair and smash her face into the bar top for touching him, she had no right to. Turning back to the rest of the boys she tried to ignore them both. Making eye contact with Opie, she was greatful for the smile he threw her way. "So you've obviously got some amazing ink lass! What about your piercings?" Chibs asked and Emily was grateful for the distraction. "Oh well I have a few! I have all the ones you can see on my ears." Turning her head from side to side Emily pointed to the colourful additions. "I have the hoop in my nose, did have a septum but I don't wear it anymore. I did also have snakebites in my lips but took them out." Poking out her tounge she showed them the pink pill tounge bar she had in. "Best thing about this tongue bar? It vibrates!" She grinned and threw a wink at happy. "Other than that I just have my belly and my nipples." Halfsack leaned on the bar, staring at Emily. "I think I'm in love." Opie shoved him, rolling his eyes. "Ignore the perv." Emily laughed, they really were amazing people. If you were accepted into the fold they made sure you felt welcome. "So are you some weird chick that likes the pain?" Happy questioned her and Emily couldn't help but laugh. "Nah I'm a little bitch when it comes to needles. Tattoos I'm fine with but piercings? I have to build myself up to get them." Feeling an arm being thrown around her shoulder and smelling the familiar perfume, Emily knew Cara was back. "Yeah! You should've seen her for her nipples! First one took it like a champ. 2nd one? She screamed blue bloody murder. Shouting about her soul leaving her body and that she was scared her titty was gonna fall off!" Emily could feel her cheeks tinge pink at Cara's words. Turning to face her friend who's lips were obviously swollen and the messy sex hair gave clear answer as to what she'd been up to, Emily grinned as she heard the men around her laugh. "Okay! It hurt like a motherfucker! And it was damn cold in that room topless. Asshole didn't even put the heating on!" Cara rolled her eyes at Emily, leaning forward to grab a drink. "Their sexy as fuck tho. The difference after - mind blowing." Cara widened her eyes nodded her head to emphasise her point. Emily rolled her eyes gently shoving Cara. "Juice level Mind blowing?" Cara shook her head grinning wide as she leaned over the bar top. "I have so many details to give you later Em! You wouldn't believe." Emily laughed at her sex drunk friend. She had a feeling juice would be making a regular appearance while Cara was here.

Glancing to her side, Emily watched a frustrated Jax still arguing with the blonde girl. He hadnt moved from his seat next to her and somehow that managed to wind the blonde up even more. Emily tried to give them privacy talking with the other guys and Cara but the girl was growing louder and louder. "You haven't saw me in weeks. It's like your not interested in me at all since that new bitch came around." The girl flung her arm in Emily's direction, fully starting to have a tantrum. Emily prayed silently to a god she didn't believe in that this wouldn't be another fight. Jax was none of her business. Turning her head to look around the busy party, Emily tried to tune out the argument. Cara and the guys were now deep in convosation. Crow eaters lined the walls chatting to one another, others hung over men as they sat and drank their beers. They definately had a weird family dynamic but for the most part it was nice. Everyone was taken care of, all one big dysfucntional family. It wasn't long before Emily made eye contact with Gemma as she leaned against one of the walls, Clay sat on a chair infront of her. Gemmas arms draped over his shoulders lovingly staking her claim. There was something in Gemmas eyes that didn't sit well with Emily but she couldn't quite pin point exactly why.

The sound of a loud smack made Emily's head turn fast. Her eyes widened in shock as they landed on a pissed Jax, now with a clear red hand mark on his face. Anger filled her chest and was probably clear to see on her face. Emily stood up stepping between Jax and the angry woman, as she saw her hand pull back to go for a second hit. " Okay. You had your one hit your not getting another." Emily stared down the woman infront of her. "Oh so your new bitch protecting you now?" The blonde spat over Emily's shoulder towards Jax. "Enough. You've said your piece, you've had your smack. Leave." The girl scoffed in Emily's face, making anger boil in her stomach. "You think I'm taking orders from his new whore?" Emily could feel the redness creep up her neck for the second time that night. "Look, you and half of charming know what kind of man he is. You fooled yourself thinking you could be the one to change him. Don't worry sweetie, we've all done it. Falling in love with the bad boy, convinced he'll love you and change his ways. But he hasn't. And he won't. Like I said, you've had your tantrum, you've had your 1 slap. Take the L and walk out gracefully." Emily stepped forward so she was toe to toe with the girl. "Because if you don't I'm going to drag you out of here by your cheap ass extensions. You see, I'm not the kind of girl to sit by and ignore when someone's clearly being harassed. No means no. Regardless of gender. And I heard him say no and ask you to leave multiple times." Emily grinned wide, her anger still high. " So what you choosing sweetie? You walking yourself out or am i gonna have to give you a hand?" The girl was clearly thinking over her options as she rolled her eyes and stayed silent. Emily didn't move a muscle, maintaining eye contact to show this bitch she wasn't backing down. "whatever. He ain't all that any way." The girl scoffed again, looking Emily up and down. "Yeah you keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Just remember it wasn't him stood openly begging you for a scrap of attention. Take yourself home, get some self respect and learn that when someone says no it means fucking no!" Emily shouted back at the scorned blonde as she stomped her way out of the clubhouse. Silence fell in across the room, everyone eyeing her, but Emily didn't give a shit.

Turning around to a shocked and silent Jax, Emily placed her hand on his red cheek, checking for any damage. "Her nails caught you abit but there's not much blood. You'll be fine Teller." Smiling at him, she slipped back into her seat as the music and chatter of the clubhouse started back up again. Emily felt better once everyone's eyes were off her, her stomach not twisting in anger anymore. Part of her really enjoyed how easy she slipped back into convosation with the guys, finding comfort in the laughs and banter. Jax's hand finding it's place on her thigh again causing the already familiar sparks to shoot up her spine.

What Emily didn't see though was the look Gemma and Clay shared as they watched the interaction unfold, and how easily Jax melted into her after. Something about that moment made Gemma realise Emily was going to become a permanent fixture around their family, even if Jax and Emily didn't yet.

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Like a Hurricane // JJ Maybank x OC - Part 1

Summary: Sky is a Pogue through and through. No one would doubt that. But what will happen if her Dad just disappears, and after nine months, she and her brother face the consequences with DCS? Sky tries to manage her way through a literal storm but also the storm of secrets, confessions, friendships, and... summer.

Masterlist

Warnings: language, use of alcohol, talk of death

Pairing: JJ Maybank x OC

A/N: And I'm back with an all-new Outer Banks story :) Yay! I got so invested in that show that I couldn't just binge-watch the whole show, as I didn't want it to end. And yes this is more a "reimagine". Don't @ me ;)

Summer.

Finally. We've waited a long time for the summer break to finally arrive. No more school, no more responsibilities. Not that my brother would care about that ever since our father went missing.

But hey, we're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time all the time.

On the terrace of their new hangout, the Pogues lounged, beers in hand, basking in the golden-orange hue of the setting sun. The vibe was effortlessly relaxed and warm.

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?", Pope questioned, eyeing the boy teetering on the rooftop, beer casually in tow. "I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."

The blonde girl with the side braid perched on a scaffold nearby, beer can in hand, gazed upward nonchalantly. "So?"

John B paused, wetting his finger and testing the wind. "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump", urged the blonde boy with the cap, sitting next to Sky.

Pope, brandishing a drill playfully, aimed it at John B. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep", he replied with a shrug.

John B mimed a gun with his hand, pointing at Pope. "Pow!"

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kiara announced, stepping out. She was striking, her light-dark skin and wavy hair catching the last light of day.

Beside Sky, JJ chuckled. "Of course. Why wouldn't they?"

Sky shared a knowing look with JJ, a sly grin on her lips. "You know what's next," she whispered, sparking a grin from JJ.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?" Kiara lamented.

"Poor turtles", Sky responded with playful sympathy, standing up.

JJ shrugged. "I can't have cold towels."

Kiara ignored him and looked up at John B. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

Sky jumped down from her perch, finishing her beer with a swift gulp. "I mean, one less Routledge, who gives a shit?" she said sarcastically. "Oh wait, me! I would give a shit. Get the fuck down, JB!"

"Don't spill that beer. I'm not giving you another one", JJ warned his best friend.

Unfazed, John B balanced precariously, but a sudden gust of wind caught him off guard. His beer plummeted to the terrace below.

"Of course you did," JJ grumbled.

Kiara turned away, shaking her head. "Smooth..."

The blonde girl sighed and rubbed her face. "Dumbass..."

Pope, peering over the balcony, spotted a security guard emerging from a parked car.

"Hey!"

"Hey, uh, security's here," he informed the others. "Let's wrap it up."

JJ looked around, glanced quickly at Sky, and smiled. "Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll," Sky said smugly.

"Yeah," John B agreed, walking down to the others.

"Let's go, boys," Kiara smiled, and they started to hurry.

JJ, teasing as always, exclaimed: "Gary, is that you?"

"Get down", Sky said to her brother.

JJ, still in light spirits, laughs as he sees that it is indeed Gary. "Gary, good to see you, man!"

They made their way downstairs, JJ's leaking behind. "JJ!" Sky laughed and pulled him along.

With Gary's backup close behind, the Pogues had to swiftly escape, leaping fences and dodging the guards. John B had the Twinkie, his van, revved up and ready. They piled in, laughter and adrenaline mixing, as one guard gave futile chase.

"Come on guys, you're giving him a heart attack," Kiara laughs, and Sky nudges her.

In high spirits, they sped off into the summer night, the promise of adventure ahead.

The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

The nice side of the Island is called Figure Eight. It's the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

And then, there is the south side or the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters.

The natural habitat of... drumroll please... the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest member of the food chain.

Okay. So, the downside of Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

But who are we?

There's JJ. My brother's best friend since the third grade. Meaning that I couldn't get rid of him even if I wanted to.

He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best male surfer I know. But don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't hear the end of it. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat, for sure. And then there's his secret – a massive, undeclared crush on me. Of course, I'm totally oblivious to it. No one knows about it. Well, that's the story, as my brother would probably kill him anyway.

Then there's Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. My best friend and the only other female Pogue apart from me. When not saving turtles or, listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo (which, for the record, I totally didn't convince her to get – okay, maybe I did), she hangs out with us. We are all not really sure why, though.

So, she's a rich kid, actually. Foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, my workplace, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists. We are not really sure how her parents feel about us, well at least about the boys, as I think they kind of like me.

All of the guys had a thing for her at least once.

And then there's Pope. The brains of the operation... finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And probably the smartest person I know. He's a little bit of a weirdo, to be honest. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you.

Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

There's John B – my twin brother. At first glance, no one would peg us as twins. John B, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, starkly contrasts my light blonde hair and grey eyes. But beneath these superficial differences lies an unbreakable bond. John B and I have always been incredibly close, sharing a connection that goes beyond mere appearances. He's the undisputed leader of the Pogues, a role he takes as naturally as breathing. In his leadership, there's a sense of adventure, a hint of recklessness, and a deep-seated loyalty that binds all of us together. His presence is both a guiding force and a constant reminder of the unspoken understanding and support we share as twins.

And then there's me, Skylar Artemis Routledge. Or Sky. Talk about a mouthful of a name, right? Thanks a bunch, Mom and Dad. As I mentioned earlier, I'm the younger twin sister of John B – younger by a mere four minutes, a fact he never lets me forget, flaunting it like a badge of honor. My world? It revolves around the thrill of surfing, the freedom of skating, and, of course, my fiercely loyal band of friends. Oh, and about the infamous "no Pogue on Pogue macking" rule? Guilty as charged. That's on me. Or, more accurately, it's because of my overprotective brother, who's made it crystal clear: nobody messes with his "baby sister." It's a title I wear with a mix of annoyance and affection, but hey, that's family for you.

John B and I call an old fish shack on the marsh our home, fondly nicknamed "The Chateau" by our dad. That's how he always referred to it, with a hint of irony and a lot of love. Our dad... he vanished nine months ago while chasing the legend of a shipwreck. In this day and age, who just disappears at sea?

I miss him every single day. John B does, too, the weight of his absence hanging silently between us.

Our mom is a different story. She left when we were just three, a distant memory more than a mother. Last I heard of her, she was in Colorado, or at least I think it was Colorado.

But we've still got Uncle T. Ever since Dad's disappearance, he's been our so-called legal guardian. Right now, he's off in Mississippi, busy building houses. That leaves just John B and me free to roam with our friends, masters of our own little world.

Three months after Dad was declared missing, they wanted to pronounce him dead officially. But John B wouldn’t sign the papers. He's adamant that there's no giving up until he sees a body. As for me... well, as three months stretched into six, my hope quietly faded away. I hate to admit it, but I've stopped expecting a miracle.

John B and Sky found themselves seated in the stark, clinical setting of the sheriff's office, facing a social worker named Cheryl. Her gaze fixed on the twins, who wore expressions of casual, almost practiced boredom.

"John, Skylar, it's come to our attention that you're unemancipated minors living on your own," Cheryl began. At this, John B and Sky shared a quick, knowing glance before bursting into laughter.

"No... Not really," Sky drawled, slouching further in her chair, her face etched with defiance.

"No," echoed John B, shaking his head.

Cheryl sighed deeply, intertwining her fingers with a look of forced patience. "I need honesty to help you two. That's what we're aiming for, right?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the twins.

"We're being honest," John B insisted as Sky puckered her lips in a mock pout.

All too aware of the teenagers' evasiveness, Cheryl let out another sigh. "Okay, then, when's the last time either of you spoke to your uncle?"

The twins exchanged another glance, their silent communication a testament to their unspoken bond.

Sky glanced at her empty wrist. "Uh... 34 minutes ago, to be exact."

"And when did you last see him?"

This time, John B chimed in. "Two hours and, uh... 43 minutes ago?"

Sky couldn't help but chuckle, biting her lip – a habitual gesture.

"John... Skylar, we're planning to visit tomorrow to speak with your uncle. If he's not there, we'll have to proceed with foster care arrangements," Cheryl explained, her tone a mix of sternness and concern. Sky scoffed at the notion. "I assure you, our goal is to find you both a safe, loving home."

They actually thought we were gonna be happy to hear that. Bullshit! I knew that they would separate us, and, almost as bad, they would get us to the mainland.

And that's where this story starts. Our dad missing, our uncle MIA, and the bride of Frankenstein threatening us with foster care.

That evening, the Pogues sat by a fire at the beach. They had fun, but one was missing. John B sat a bit further away and gave in to his thoughts. Sky sat next to JJ, who causally had his arm around her shoulders.

"What's up with him?" JJ asked, and Pope and Kie were looking at Sky.

She sighed and shrugged. "It's his way of coping, I guess... They-" She gulped and sighed again. "They want to swing by tomorrow, talk to Uncle T."

JJ pulled Sky closer. "Come on, they can't just drag your asses away. You're Pogues. You belong here."

Sky's smile faded a little. "Tell that to them."

JJ's smile faded as well, as he looked down at the blonde next to him. Kiara couldn't help but smile at the sight. She realized, for some time now, how much JJ liked Sky. Not just liked, but liked.

"Have you heard about the hurricane? It's heading right towards us", Pope then said and showed them the news channel on his phone, and Sky looked at him, sighing.

She wiggled out of JJ's arm and stood up. "Well, at least one good thing comes of it." She took out her phone, and the others looked at her, confused.

"DCS, how can I help you?" Sky tipped her finger to her lips. "Yeah, uh... I think we have to reschedule."

As Sky was at home later, thunder was crackling, and the wind took off. JJ sat on her porch on his phone. Sky just looked out to the ocean, wondering where her brother was.

"Hey yo, you know where John B is?" she turned and looked at JJ, who looked up at her.

He shrugged. "Nah, but my guess..." He pointed his head towards the ocean.

"He's really going for it, huh?" Sky muttered under her breath, turning back to the sea again.

JJ stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Barb. He's gonna be fine."

Barb. That was another thing. JJ called me that for as long as I can remember. Well, at first, it was Surfer Barbie, what many people call me, to be honest, so he just called me Barbie, and that morphed into Barb. He's the only one who calls me that.

Sky sighed once again and turned, walking into the Chateau. JJ looked after her with a questioning look, before he sat back down on the porch.

Shortly after, Sky walked out again with a Whiskey and two glasses. "Might as well..."

She poured some of the brown liqueur into the glasses and slid one over to JJ. He grinned at Sky and took it into his hand.

"The good glasses? What's the occasion?" he asked and winked at her.

"Don't know... When Aggie hits, they might break anyway..."

They clinked the glasses together and smiled at each other before taking a sip.

Forty-five minutes later, the almost full bottle was empty, and Sky sat on the porch bench with JJ, her legs over his lap. JJ has his hands on her shins and caresses them absently.

The conversation, deep and meandering under the influence of alcohol, takes a turn as JJ gazes into the distance, where lightning from the approaching Hurricane Agatha flickers ominously. "Barb," he slurs slightly, "have you ever thought about, you know, dating one of us Pogues? Like, hypothetically speaking?"

Sky, her head leaning back, a relaxed smile on her face, responds with a teasing lilt, "JJ, you know the rule. No Pogue on Pogue macking. John B made it pretty clear."

But JJ is undeterred, his eyes intense. "That rule is bullshit. It's just something John B came up with, so we don't mack on you. But seriously, what if? What if the rule didn't exist?"

Sky turns to face him, her expression softening in the dim porch light. "What if, huh?" she muses, the alcohol making her thoughts swim. "I don't know, JJ. It's a weird thought. We're like... family, you know?"

JJ nods, serious. "Yeah, I know. But sometimes, I think, 'What if.' What if the person you're supposed to be with is right in front of you, and you're just too blind to see it because of some stupid rule?"

The confession, raw and honest, hangs between them. Sky looks into JJ's eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity within. "JJ, are you asking if I've ever thought about you that way?" she whispers, the storm's energy charging the air around them.

JJ meets her gaze, his voice earnest. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of pretending that I haven't thought about it. About you."

The intensity of the moment builds, mirroring the storm's crescendo. But then, Sky, sensing the conversation veering into serious territory that she's not ready to navigate, especially not under the influence, lets out a laugh. It's light, an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"JJ, you're drunk, and your emotions are all over the place. It's just the whiskey talking."

JJ's gaze lingers on her, a mix of longing and frustration in his eyes. "Maybe," he concedes, "but what if it's not? What if—"

Skye cuts him off with a light laugh, leaning in to bump her shoulder against his. "Oi, Bandolero, trust me. You're going to wake up tomorrow and realize you were just feeling extra sentimental because of the storm and the whiskey."

A little later, as the conversation drifted and the storm raged outside, Sky and JJ succumbed to sleep on the porch. Suddenly, Sky felt a persistent poking at her cheek.

Blearily opening her eyes, she was jolted awake by the looming figure before her, illuminated starkly by a flash of lightning.

"Jesus fucking Christ, are you out of your damn mind?" Sky exclaimed, her words directed at her drenched brother, who stood before her, surfboard in tow.

The commotion roused JJ, who blinked groggily at John B.

"That's your concern? What the hell are you guys still doing out here? Get inside!" John B barked, hauling Sky to her feet.

Sky, unimpressed, retorted as she was ushered inside, "Look who's talking, big bro. Did you seriously try to surf in this mess?" Behind them, JJ, barely awake, stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the pull-out couch.

John B paused, eyeing his best friend's form. "What happened to him?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Sky, smirking, replied as she headed to her room, "Dad's Highland Park. Turns out our Bandolero over there isn't as seasoned a drinker as he likes to claim." She paused at her door, glancing back at John B. "Good night."

"Night," he responded, his smile lingering as he made his way to his own room.

[caseylynnxo]

Reckless - A JJ Maybank Story

Chapter One

~ JJ ~

The Outer Banks, paradise on Earth.

And it was.

It was the perfect place for fun, adventure, drama, love, and even some trouble.

JJ was especially good at the trouble part. He was pretty much always up to something with his Pogue friends, and was well known around Outer Banks to live up to his family name. Being only seventeen, he had already been in trouble with the cops more times than he could count; sneaking onto private property, shoplifting from corner markets or for being caught with weed, he was known for it. You name it, he's done it. He doesn't even try to act like he doesn't notice how he's looked at around this place: like he's nothing. And besides his friends, he really doesn't have anything. And his dad's an even bigger piece of shit than he is.

JJ sat along the scaffolding of the building that was currently under renovation, watching John B standing on the roof, balancing on one foot with a can of beer in his hand. Pope stood looking at some tools, being he was the brains of the group, and those kinds of things instantly caught his attention. Kiara was wandering through the house, wondering why they had taken out the turtle habitat that it used to be, being the nature freak that she was.

"That's what, a three story fall from the deck? I give you about a one and three chance of survival." Pope stated, looking up to John B with a drill in his hand.

"Hmm. Should I do it?" John B questioned, licking his finger and lifting it into the air in front of his face, testing the wind to see which direction it was blowing in.

"Yeah, you should jump. I'll shoot you on the way down." Pope raised the drill at John B as he pretended to shoot him, a playful smile spread across his lips.

"Yeah, you gonna shoot me?" John B joked, raising his hand and pointing a finger gun down in Pope's direction. "POW."

JJ couldn't help but roll his eyes as Pope raised his hand to his chest, stumbling backwards as if he had just been shot.

Kiara appeared from inside the building, an irritated look spread across her face."They're gonna have Japanese toilets and towel warmers."

"Of course they are. Why wouldn't they?" JJ said, his voice tinted with sarcasm.

"This used to be a turtle habitat. But who cares about the turtles, I guess?" Her eyes shifted up to John B, still balancing along the roof. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

JJ took a sip of my beer, not as cold now as it was a few minutes ago, moving his eyes from Kiara to watch John B. He couldn't get caught checking out Kiara - again. "Don't spill that beer, man. I'm not giving you another one."

John B stumbled, trying to catch his balance. "Oh shit."

JJ rolled his eyes as the full can of beer fell from John B's hand and dropped from the roof, hitting the ground. "Of course you did. Right when I told you about it too."

"Hey!" JJ's head quickly spun toward the voice coming from down below, and let out a chuckle. "Gary, is that you?"

"Security's here. Let's wrap it up."

JJ swung himself down from the scaffold, bolting for the stairs and running down them as quickly as he could, taking two steps at a time, and out the main door. He glanced back behind him to make sure that John B, Pope and Kiara were coming closely behind. But Gary caught them in the front, managing to grab hold of him, but he was much quicker and able to slip right out of Gary's grasp. "Not much of a hugger, man."

He ran to the fence, watching as Pope hopped over it, jumping over it behind him with a laugh as Pope fell down into the grass. "Cmon, Pope, fatso's coming."

"Come here, you little pricks!" Gary shouted as he reached the fence, and JJ followed Pope towards the van, where John B and Kiara were sitting, waiting. "Go, Pope! Go, go, go!"

They hopped into the van as quickly as they could, already in motion before JJ's feet even touched the floor. John B took off down the road, laughing along with JJ, Pope and Kiara as they watched Gary running as fast as he could behind the van, which wasn't very fast at all, urging them to stop and pull over.

"Slow down, slow down." JJ said, grabbing a can of beer off the floor of the van and throwing it out the open door and in Gary's direction.

"Stop, JJ. You're gonna give him a heart attack." Kiara said, grabbing his arm. She was always the protector out of the group.

"They don't pay you enough for this shit, Gary."

John B sped up even faster, and JJ sat down on one of the empty seats in the van, taking a hit from his weed pen as John B drove down the road through The Cut, where the poor people lived in Outer Banks, heading towards John B's chateau. He watched the houses pass out the window, sighing to himself. Every day that he looked around where they lived, he couldn't believe that this was the lifestyle that he was stuck in.

His attention was quickly caught by a girl standing out in the front yard of one of the houses, a girl that he had never seen in the Outer Banks before. If he did, he would definitely remember her. "Whoa, whoa. Hold up, man. Who's that?"

John B pressed on the break, the van slowing down as he, Pope and Kiara all looked out to see who JJ was referring to. She had long blonde hair that was dark brown at the roots, and he noticed first thing how tiny she was. Her little black dress barely covered her butt, long legs sticking out underneath the hem.

"That's Miss Rosemary's house. They must've finally sold it. God rest her soul." Kiara said, placing her hand over her heart.

"She lives on the Cut?" JJ asked, still staring in her direction. "I could get on board with that."

"Oh boy, here we go."

●・○・●・○・●・

~ Cassie ~

Cassie sat on the small deck looking out over the house in a white chair, writing down her current thoughts in her journal. She took a deep breath, her eyes scanning back over the words she just wrote down. The summer sun shone down, radiating off of her skin, and she could feel the small sweat beads forming on her forehead. She wasn't used to the North Carolina heat. Where she came from, Colorado, was always cold.

She wasn't exactly happy to be in the Outer Banks. She missed home, and she missed her friends, especially Sophie who was her best friend in the entire world. She also couldn't deny that she missed Blake, who she was in an exclusive relationship with but called it off when Cassie told him that she would be moving for six months. They agreed to try to pick things up where they left off whenever Cassie got back in April.

When their mom decided to move from Colorado to the Outer Banks, the arrangement was made: Cassie and her younger sister, Gracie, had to spend six months of the year in Outer Banks with their mom and the other six months of the year back home in Colorado with their dad. Back home, they lived with their dad at his estate. Her parents separated, just a year after Gracie was born, and their mom lived in a tiny house, just trying to survive. Their dad, on the other hand, lived in a huge house making so much money that he didn't even know what to do with. Of course their dad helped out their mom as much as he possibly could, but their mom wanted them to have the best life possible; therefore they were permanently moved into their dad's home. They usually went to visit their mom every weekend, being that it was only a fifteen minute drive from their dad's house.

She hoped that she would eventually fall in love with it here, but until then, she longed to go home.

"Hey, sweetie. Are you all done unpacking? I thought we could maybe go grab something for dinner." Cassie's mom, Loora, peered her head out the back door.

Cathy closed her notebook, giggling as Happy ran out the door from behind her mom's legs, his tail wagging as Cassie bent down to pick him up, giving her a lick to the face. "Sure. I'm pretty hungry."

"There's this place called The Wreck that I saw online. It looks pretty good." Loora said as she ushered Happy back inside, Cassie following them through the door.

"Sounds yummy."

Cassie followed her mom through the house, still pretty empty, boxes stacked all around with thousands of things but they still needed to find a place for. She guided Happy into his cage, closing the door and sliding the lock across. "Be good, boy."

Cassie headed outside to her mom's beat up SUV, Gracie already buckled into the backseat. She climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the door closed behind her. She looked at all of the different houses and other buildings on the way down the road, taking in every sight she could possibly see.

Here was nothing like back home.

Loora pulled the car into the parking lot of The Wreck, and Cassie climbed out as her mom put the car in park. The smell of food escaping through the open front door wafted into her nose, and she felt her stomach growl. "Mm, smells good."

Her mother led her and Gracie inside, smiling to the man standing at the front desk. "Good afternoon, welcome to The Wreck. Just the three of you today?"

Loora nodded. "We heard your restaurant is delicious."

The man grabbed two menus and with a sideways nod of his head, guided them to a table in the far back corner. Cassie noticed how busy it was here for a Tuesday afternoon at two p.m. "Well, I'm Mike. It's really nice to meet you ladies. You'll love it here in the Outer Banks."

Cassie sat down in the seat across from her mom, Gracie sitting down next to her, and Mike laid the menus down on the table in front of each of them. Mike whipped himself around suddenly, a group of loud teenagers pouring through the front door and helping themselves down to a table. "Hey, quiet down. Kie, get your friends whatever they want and get them out of here. Then grab your apron. We're busy today." Mike turned back around, giving an apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's just my daughter and her friends."

Cassie shifted her eyes to the group that just came in. She spotted the girl that Mike referred to as his daughter. She was beautiful and looked just like him. Her eyes shifted between the other three, lingering an extra moment on the boy with messy blonde hair. As if realizing that she was staring at him, he turned his head in her direction, meeting her eyes. Cassie felt the heat rush to her face, her eyes instantly moving down to the menu in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel his eyes still fixed on her. She tried her hardest not to look back at him.

She wasn't so sure about life here, but maybe it would surprise her.

[1uvtae]

will u be writing more of mistaken!jungkook x reader? 🥹🥹🥹 loved the part where reader confronted him via text cus UGH THE ANGST AND SLOW BURN 😫

im so glad mistaken!jungkook has been getting so much attention ;) let me know what you guys want to see!! a few days ago i posted mistaken!jk mo’s and i hope that made you mistaken!jk fans giggle a little hehe-

do we like these bulletpoint moments? or do you darls want to request some specific mistaken jk drabbles??

it took a few weeks for you and jungkook to officially get together after the confrontation, and within those few weeks you and he religiously saw each other every day, he would pick you up from your classes. you never fail to catch him outside your room when the lecture is over, he would immediately take your school bag off your shoulder, holding it in one hand. the other hand is always a little hesitant to grab your hand, but you always manage to loop your arm through his.

another before-dating story: you decided to visit the campus library, and by the time you packed your bags and left, it was already pouring rain outside. the summer rain paired with strong wind certainly did not go well with your tank top and denim shorts - plus, you didn’t even bring a jacket today!! and you normally always had an emergency jacket on you!!! you sigh at your stupidity while rapidly texting nayeon, complaining about when this rain will stop. nayeon told you that she would be over in around 15 minutes when a low-battery notification popped up. you locked your phone, scared that it would run out of battery before she even arrived. these 15 minutes might’ve been the longest 15 you have ever waited. under the dark purple sky, you completely zoned out at a red “tteokbokki” sign across the road. the rain falls down rapidly, to the point where the red sign has turned into a jagged mosaic. standing outside of the library feels like high land- or a lonely island in the middle of the ocean. the rain sound fills your senses until your nose catches the familiar scent of someone. you lift your head to spot jungkook, in a beige coat, holding an umbrella in his hand. "i'm here to pick you up, put this on." he points his chin over to a thick cardigan draped on his arm. gosh, you love nayeon.