#Finally got around to making some playlists for my OCs! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

megamindsecretlair · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?

A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?

Blackbird, Part 1: Lust

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?

Word Count: 10,810k

Part 2

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: Listen, I know. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and just kept writing. I'm trying something new here, so any feedback is welcome! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui @ms-angiealsina @satoruya @hopefulromantic1 @itsbackwoodsbby

Moodboard by the sweestes person ever, planetblaque 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at your watch on your delicate wrist. Night chased the afternoon out of the sky, taking over in their delicate push and pull. Night was safer for confessions. For reflection.

The sun’s rays slanted through the blinds and you blinked against the bitter light. “My apologies, would you like me to close them?” Your lawyer, Mr. Gates, asked you.

“Please,” you said. You sighed and adjusted your neat teal dress across your knees. There was nothing to fix, but you supposed you were nervous. After all these years, you thought that you would carry these secrets to the grave. Everything was different now.

Mr. Gates moved to the window and shut the blinds more fully, draping you in the safe comfort of his office. Mr. Gates had been part of the family for years now, a profession he took seriously. It was refreshing to speak to someone who couldn’t be bought. Who would never fold, not even under threat of death.

The office had been cleared especially for you, per your request. People liked to gossip. Busybodies, your grandmother called them. The only sound was the low hum of the AC blowing cool air into the room and Mr. Gates shuffling around.

He finally sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight. He pulled out a small recorder and showed it to you, the exact model you requested. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement. He took out a notebook, new and clean of any writing. You hoped he had enough pens.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You adjusted your dress once more, running your hands along the fine, silken material. You licked your lips and looked back up at him. “I don’t wanna die without marking the occasion first,” you said with a clipped smile.

Each day it drew closer to the date, you got used to the idea of dying. You had a good run. It could have been better. But you weren’t one to be greedy.

Mr. Gates smiled softly, perhaps a little sad. It was nice to know someone would miss you. There would be one person on this earth who’d care if you were gone. That was something.

Mr. Gates wrote down something on his notepad and pressed a button on the recorder. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, the date, and the time. He asked you to state your name for the record.

“...of sound mind and body do declare this to be read as my last will and testament.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. Your fists thumped against the rough wood of the door as it finished slamming into your face. The asshole on the other side was just as faceless as the long stream of dance companies that tossed you out on your ass. There were plenty more, sure, but this one had been reputable. Fair.

They took one look at your raggedy dance clothes, worn from too many times around the washer. At your hair, styled high above your head in braids they didn’t understand but were obsessed with. You didn’t have the time or the money to go to a salon. Just once, you’d like someone else to bother with your thick hair and its maintenance. You couldn’t be bothered.

You’d shave it all off but you didn’t want to deal with the mean and hurtful comments about you looking like a boy. Your knuckles were just getting over being bruised and tender from the last mu’fucka that tried to talk out the side of their neck.

“Asshole!” You screamed. It was open auditions. Open. Auditions. That meant that anyone could come in and try their hand. You had killed the routine. You only needed to watch something once to get it down. To feel it move through your body like a live wire and your muscles respond. To mimic it to near perfection and add your spin on it. Nothing fancy, just an extra oomph that these companies seemed to lack.

You had waited to the side with the other girls, all wispy, wafer thin girls who took one look at your curves and deemed you less than. A joke. That you couldn’t possibly move your body like they could.

One had the audacity to allude to that, calling it doing you a favor. Next thing you knew, your fist was flying and she was crying foul, blood running down her aristocratic nose. You just gave her a little more character, honest.

You cursed under your breath and moved away from the building. To hell with them. You shifted your dance bag over your shoulder and walked backwards. The marquee above the door announced an upcoming performance. Below it, there was the name of the headliner, Gabriella Greywood.

One day, and one day soon, your name would be up there. In bright lights. And no amount of racist, fatphobic fucks were going to stop you.

You turned and headed down the street, running head first into a person, solidly built by the feel of them.

“My bad, sweetheart,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted you.

Your mouth was already fixing to give him hell for not watching where he was going and that you were nobody’s “sweetheart”. The words dried on your tongue as you looked up into a deep set of brown eyes that crinkled a bit in the corner when he smiled.

He had a low fade and short beard, shaved close to his strong jaw. Pretty, long eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks whenever he blinked. He smirked, checking you out while you ogled him.

“S’okay,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He took in your tights and oversized gray sweatshirt.

“You heading inside?” He asked.

“Away from it. Those fucks wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass,” you said.

The man chuckled and nodded, like he liked your honesty. Your words. “Fuck ‘em,” he said, gifting you with another smirk. You wondered what he’d look like when he really smiled. When he let it take up his whole face.

Too bad you didn’t have time for men. You may be behind most of your friends in that department. Their heads were full of getting married and popping out babies while they were still young. Like they were checking off boxes handed down to them through the generations. Grow up, learn just enough, get married, pop out babies, and then your real life starts once they are grown up with babies of their own. Fuuuck that.

“Where you headed then?” He asked. A noise to his left made you look up and see an entire other man standing next to him. He was a bit taller, broader around the shoulders, with a narrow face and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Home, I guess. Until I find the next studio giving out auditions,” you said. Your attention was solely fixated on the man in front of you. His friend grinned and moved away, lighting up a joint. He put a foot on top of a fire hydrant and pretended to ignore you both.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was magnetic. Like he commanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not.

You giggled, stomach doing tiny flips. “I don’t know you,” you said, giving him a hint of the attitude you’re famous for. None of this, giggly, braid around your finger nonsense.

“Get to know me. Let me take you to Scarlet Lounge,” he said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth.

You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “That’s a gangster bar,” you said.

“What you got against gangstas?” He asked.

“They’re mean, amoral, kill for no reason, run drugs, and turn out little girls. They’re nothing but bad news,” you said.

“Damn, amoral. That’s a big one,” he said. He chuckled and licked his lips, calling attention to his mouth once more. Your body heated instantly, wanting to know what they taste like. What they feel like on your skin. What his hands would feel like on your skin.

“Not all gangstas are the same. Maybe some just wanna get over in a life hellbent on kicking them in the teeth,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and you finally noticed what he was wearing. Simple jeans and a black hoodie, faded from too many washes like your clothes. You felt a sudden kinship with him, an understanding passed between you in being in similar situations. Just two mu’fuckas trying to make it.

“Are you saying you’re a gangsta?” You asked.

“If I say yes, you gon’ hold it against me?” Oh, he was dangerous. Absolutely dangerous.

You had gone on entire tirades about the level of crime in LA. It was insidious. The dangerous, hopeless underbelly that all kids from the hood grew up with was like a giant dome that prevented anyone from truly getting out. Truly making something of yourself. You either joined a gang, married into a gang, or rode the struggle bus ‘till God called you home.

You could leave. You could find some area where the people would treat you like a freak or like you didn’t belong but you would be safe. None of them would look like you. Or understand you. Change had to start in the hood. There had to be hope some-fucking-where.

“Probably,” you said.

He smirked and shook his head. “Cold game. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

You should walk away. There was no way you could entertain someone like him. No way. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to walk away from him or this moment. The more you looked at him, the more you felt connected to him. That each minute you spent in his presence, you felt tiny stitches being woven in between you.

“I’ll tell you what gangsta boy. We bump into each other again and I’ll tell you my name,” you said. You turned on the balls of your feet, walking backwards away from him.

“You gon’ do me like that? Forreal?” He asked. The corner of his gorgeous mouth lifted higher. It was almost worth staying to see if you could get a real smile out of him.

“Byeee,” you sang. You giggled, heading towards the train station. You turned around and gave your hips a little extra swish.

“I’m Fontaine!” He called after you. It took all of your strength not to turn back around. You waved your fingers high in the air but kept walking. You didn’t really think you’d bump into him again. You couldn’t afford the distraction even if you did. You’d head back home to your shitty apartment that you shared with your best friend and regroup.

You needed to keep your eyes on the prize. You had a future to secure. And it did not involve pretty corner boys who talked smooth.

You finished doing your makeup in the vanity, touching up the bright red lipstick one more time and checked over your outfit. Muted music and cheers reached you into the backroom, from the set before yours.

Other dancers were touching up their outfits as well, skimpy little things that barely qualified as a costume. The leotards were black with thin stripes, sparkly silver edges that dug into your groin and under your arms. The designer, an evil little bitch with too much hair and a permanent sour expression, thought she was so damn important. Half the time, it was clear that she thought she was too good to design clothes en masse for a dance club.

You wore fishnet stockings like the others, black leather heeled boots, and a tiny black hat in your hair. You had sparkly glitter dusted across your cheeks so that your eyes would pop. Not that anyone would see you. You were relegated to the back in every single fucking number.

Everyone here had the same dream as you. It just came down to who was hungrier. Who was going to stick it out. You had been dancing your whole life and you’d be damned to let some wide-eyed, bushy tail ho from Minnesota steal your dream. You’d put in the work, you’d put in your dues, and soon, you’d be headlining your own show. Working with top directors and choreographers. Maybe even get into dancing on TV.

“One minute!” One of the stagehands called into the room. Kimmy approached you and looked at you in the mirror.

“Another day?” She asked.

“Another dollar,” you said back.

You both grinned and stood up, heading out of the dressing room and into the chaos backstage. Stagehands moved in a dance all their own, carefully moving around each other with headsets squawking with directions you couldn’t hear. Coordinating the lights and music, curtains, and set decorations.

The previous music was coming to a close, ending on a loud roaring beat that you felt down to your toes. Adrenaline thumped through you. Despite whatever else you went through, this made sense. This was the time that your mind finally shut up. That your focus on your dreams drifted to the back and all you had to do was feel the music. The euphoria that came with losing all sense of identity while dancing.

You stood on the stairs on the left side of the stage, too far away to see the current set; you’d seen the performance so many times you had it memorized. The group before you had done a circus themed dance, full of contortionists, flips, and tumbles. The performers worked hard to make it look so seamless, you were in awe every time.

They were due to exit on the right, to not interrupt your group. Their song ended, the curtains closing and claps echoing throughout the club. You were shuffled on stage, getting into position in the far back. Haters. Whatever.

Stagehands used pulleys to change the scenery behind you, to an alleyway facade. There was a fake brick wall beside you getting rolled in. The announcer, the sleazeball Rusty, was on stage and getting everyone pumped up.

You looked at Kimmy and made a face and she giggled, waving you off. The music for your number started to play, a slow and sexy jam. You were supposed to be a lady mafia, punishing men in a cold dark alley.

Once the curtains were open and the spotlight hit you in the face, you were gone. There was only the part you played, filling in the background while the lead dazzled the audience. You told yourself not to care, but deep down you did. It was disheartening to know that in your heart of hearts, you were more talented. You were a better dancer. You just refused to suck Rusty’s dick to get to the top.

So you focused on the music, on the dance, and executed it flawlessly. You were in the back now, but you weren’t going to stay there. You didn’t see the audience, you didn’t see the idiots at the bar, and you didn’t see any of the VIPs in the back, scoping out the dancers to see which ones they wanted to bring to the private backrooms for a “dance”.

You didn’t play that shit. You were too spiteful, too hateful, too outspoken. And you’d continue to do so. You had to take a pay cut to not be involved with that shit. It was illegal and unfair, but it beat spreading your legs for dirty cops and gangstas.

As you danced, your mind was partially split between what you were doing and the man you met the other day. Fontaine. You couldn’t stop saying his name. It rolled so well off of the tongue. Fontaaaine.

You nearly missed a step and mentally slapped yourself. You focused on the dance, lots of gyrating and popping your hips. Lots of slow glides down to the floor and rolling your back. Invisible prop assistants threw you all fake uzis and you ended the dance facing away from the crowd. You jerked your hand to pretend like you were shooting a gun into the alleyway while a group of male dancers pretended to die.

The crowd cheered behind you but your mind was already beating yourself up. Already going over what you could have done better. It’d help if your performances were recorded but for the “privacy of its patrons”, Rusty wouldn’t let anyone record inside. Phones had to be off or silent and there were plenty of bouncers willing to break expensive phones to ensure everyone’s “safety”.

Among the last to leave the stage, you turned to walk back to the dressing room. It didn’t feel like thirty minutes went by. You were sweating buckets though. Fat little droplets soaking your leotard and dripping from your temples.

“Aye!” You turned to the sound. “Over here!”

You knew better than to follow some strange sound around backstage, but the voice sounded familiar. Like warm caramel. You looked towards the front, where a bouncer stood to ensure that no one slipped past the curtain.

“Over here!” You walked towards the darkened back, following the sound. There stood Fontaine, standing behind a storage door. He smirked when he saw you.

“What are you doing back here?” You rushed over to him, pushing him into the storage room. You looked for people behind you. This area was where dancers left so it was hardly used for anything else. There were old decorations here, forgotten sets that needed to be stripped and repainted.

Fontaine’s callused hands pulled you into the storage room. Somehow, he found the lone lamp that worked and the soft light filled the room. It was junky. Full of chairs, tables, tablecloths. The overflow supplies.

“You said if we bumped into each other again, you’d tell me your name,” he said.

“This isn’t bumping into each other,” you pointed out. Your hands were still around his arms and his hands had relocated your hips.

“Sheeit, this is better,” he said.

You shook your head. “What are you doing here, gangsta boy?” You asked.

“Tell me your name first,” he said. He cocked his head to the side, letting you get a glimpse of his dark eyes.

A deal was a deal, you guessed. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue like cotton candy. “I like that, suits you,” he said.

“Your turn,” you said.

“Scarlets run this place, you ain’t know?” He asked.

“You work for Porter Sommer?” You asked. Porter Sommer was a ruthless drug kingpin that ran all of South Central. There wasn’t shit that went down in the hood that he didn’t have a fat little finger in. You’d only seen him once and it was enough to turn your stomach. He had dead eyes like a shark.

“He ain’t all that, I swear,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “He the only nigga that give back ‘round here.”

“Give back? He got kids doing drugs in the parking lot before their parents pick them up. He shake niggas down for every last nickel they got,” you said.

“That ain’t us. That’s that bitch Shayne,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. “I ain’t come here for all that. I saw you on stage and I had to tell you that you were amazing.”

Now that you knew who he worked for, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue dealing with him. You hadn’t given much thought to which side of the street he fell on. The Crips and the Bloods thought they were the top bosses in LA, aggressively defending square blocks they didn't own.

Porter Sommer and Shayne Blandford were the real OGs. They actually bought up the houses and stores on the blocks, doing their hardest to outbid each other at every opportunity. They both preyed on the weak and didn’t care who got caught in their crossfires.

Fontaine looked at you with such admiration though. Like he saw you. Like you weren’t just another dancer on stage. That he saw you with the same lights shining on you that you pictured in your head.

You stepped away from him to try to get some clarity. Obviously, touching him and getting that close to him was addling your brain. You were seriously thinking about entertaining a bad boy. One of the worst.

“What do you do for Porter then?” You asked. You crossed your arms.

Fontaine sighed and leaned back against an old desk. It wobbled under his weight and he looked down at it but then turned his attention back to you. “Do it matter? You gon’ judge me for it anyway,” he said.

“I’m not judging that you’re a corner boy. I’m judging that you work for Porter. That man is…scary,” you said.

“He a’ight,” Fontaine said with a shrug. “And I ain’t no corner boy no mo. Ya boy moved up and shit,” he said. He smirked and you could see him puffing his chest out. You giggled. He looked so proud of that fact.

You wanted to keep up your defenses against him. You wanted to walk out of the room and tell him to get lost. You could not get your head turned out by a gangsta. You didn’t have the heart for that kind of life. Why did you have to meet someone like him and he was bad news?

“Moved up how?” You asked.

“Protection services,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t fight the grin that ran across your face. Whether he was outside or in this dingy ass room, he carried the same level of magnetism. Charisma.

“I cannot with you,” you said.

Fontaine stood up and slowly walked over to you. He had a mean ass lean to it that caused your stomach to flip in response. He was the total package, both in looks and wit. But, but, but.

He stood before you and clasped his hands behind his back. “I feel something. And I know you feel something too. I’d like to get to know you, sweetheart. Let me change your mind about gangstas,” he said.

“I don’t pay attention to words, gangsta boy. Your world is dangerous,” you said.

“You watch too many movies. Real gangstas talk and shit,” he said. He smirked and swayed from side to side. He was hypnotic. You swayed with him like he casted a spell on your body. Each word he spoke wove magic through your veins.

“Oh, really? Bunch of backroom deals and offers people can’t refuse?” You asked. You began to back towards the door. The only way to survive Fontaine was to escape. To remove yourself from the situation. With his voice and the way he spun words, he’d be liable to talk you right off of the City Hall building.

“Let me find out you like gangsta movies and you just giving me a hard time,” he said. He looked at you and slowly began to approach you. You had nowhere left to go. Your back was against the door.

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time,” you said. You moved your hand behind you until your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob. Fontaine’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t a smile. Dammit, you wanted to see him smile.

His minty breath fanned across your face as he leaned closer. You bit your lip. “I’on know if you heard me, but I’m in the protection game now. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again, I’m gon’ give you the world,” he said.

You smiled, letting his words fill up your head like fresh, doughy clouds after a storm. Plenty of people talked a good game. There was a long line of disappointing men who talked and talked but never backed it up. Starting with your daddy. Fontaine’s voice had the deep rumble of conviction behind it. He meant every single word. And you had no doubt that he could back it up.

But, but, but.

“I can’t be bought, Fontaine. I never asked for the world,” you said.

“I know. I’m gon’ give it to you anyway. With a matching moon,” he said.

You dropped your eyes from his intense gaze. The light didn’t quite reach this far, so you two practically stood in shadow. He blended into the shadow. Welcomed it. Like he lived and breathed in it.

“I’m a man of action. And I’ll prove it.” He dropped his head and kissed you. Electricity zapped your lips. His kiss was languid. Slow. Tongue already working its way inside your mouth like it owned it. Your hands came around his neck to pull him closer.

The kiss was intense, disconcerting. He knew exactly what to do too, alternating kisses and little nibbles. Your wet lips smacked against his and your pussy throbbed. He pushed you into the door, hands gripping onto your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

If he was magnetic before, it paled in comparison to touching him. Feeling him. You felt him everywhere. Each kiss sucked you further down into the shadows with him and you never wanted to taste the light again.

You paused here and took a deep breath. Mr. Gates cleared his throat and paused the recorder. “Do you want to skip this part?” He asked.

So kind. Mr. Gates was always so kind. He was a rare breed compared to all the men in your life. Especially when compared to Fontaine. However, Fontaine had no equal. There was no one who came close.

That first kiss ought to have been where you drew the line. You knew better than to sit in storage rooms with strange men and let them kiss you. Let them feel on your booty. Just remembering it, brought heat to your cheeks and to your core. You felt the ghost of Fontaine’s hands on your legs, on your hips. That playful smirk tickling your neck.

You shook your head. “I just need a minute. I-I need him to know that it was always real for me. That I went into it with both eyes open,” you said.

Mr. Gates nodded and got up, leaving his office for a moment. Your mind wandered, thinking back to those early days. From bumping into Fontaine to everything that followed after. Like the Hand of God tripped you over Fontaine’s feet so that you would meet. Would know. So that you would know each other and know what it was like to love with your entire body.

Moments later, you collected yourself. Mr. Gates seemed to know exactly when. He came back into the office without any prodding from you. You smiled at his kind, grandfatherly face. He had white hair sticking out the sides of his head. You bet he was a player when he was younger.

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, where was I? Um…so, Fontaine did exactly that. He proved with more than his words that we had something songs got written about…”

Fontaine attended every performance every night you worked. You were still in the background and he looked at you as if the spotlight was on you. He didn’t help your ego at all.

After every night, he’d somehow sneak backstage with a single red rose to tell you that you were the best dancer up there. He stole kisses after each one too. At this point, you didn’t know why you were still resisting him. You weren’t some prude waiting for a man to drop to one knee; you didn’t believe in that shit.

There was something a little hot about making him sweat it out. Something a little erotic about heavy petting and making out and living in the moment spent with your lips colliding and tongues exploring. With his hands around your ass and your hand rubbing him over his jeans.

You hadn’t had many occasions to lust after someone. Sometimes guys made you crane your neck, but you had a single minded focus that saw you through your shitty childhood, through your awkward teenage years, through screaming matches, and slammed doors. You got what you needed from guys, the only things they were really good for, and you left them high and dry. You left them while spit flew from their mouths as they called you bitches, hos, and anything else their little brains could think of.

Funny how once you treated boys how they treated you, you were suddenly the devil incarnate.

But you lusted. Every dip of Fontaine’s hips made your body respond in kind. Like he had a direct line to your pussy and constantly tugged on it to drive you crazy. He knew the effect he had on you too.

He always made sure to blow you a kiss while you were on stage. When he smirked, he liked to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He made sure to grab your ass while making out, squeezing them like trying to get juice from a lemon. Oh and when he got to rubbing his stubble along your neck, your eyes would roll back and he’d tell you to quit being so cute before he dicked you down.

Fontaine made you hot and bothered. In more ways than one. As much as you were interested in him, you still hated what he had to do to survive. You understood the game, but it didn’t mean you had to love it.

When you weren’t on stage and you were taking your break, waiting for the next set, you would sneak out to the front of the house so that you could see the performances, see what worked and what didn’t. Sometimes you’d grab a drink and wait for Fontaine to sneak away to kiss you.

And sometimes you’d see him heading to the private rooms, escorting your fellow dancers and whichever powerful men wanted to use them for the night. Rusty was always there with a grin on his face and dollar signs in his eyes. It was disgusting.

Rusty never touched anyone but your best friend Kimmy. He took one look at her and fell ass over teakettle for your sweet friend who had a kid to look after. On top of paying her a little more, Rusty rented an apartment for Kimmy and her kid. She didn’t think anything of the little bargain. One man was better than a revolving door.

Sometimes anger boiled in your veins at the mere thought. You wanted to burn this place to the ground. It was true that you chose to come here, night after night. However, dancing was the only thing that kept the anger at bay. Well, that wasn’t entirely true anymore.

As Fontaine walked around the tables on his way to you, you found unexpectedly that his presence tamed the wildness of your anger. It wasn’t completely gone. The slightest thing would set you off. Until you bubbled over like a volcanic eruption, burning everything and everyone in your path. You weren’t like that with Fontaine. You didn’t want to be like that with Fontaine. And all it took was a few dozen roses and sweet stolen kisses.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. He was starting to grow his hair out. Since he moved to protection, he started dressing a little fancier. Dickies instead of jeans, plain T-shirts instead of whatever graphic tee caught his fancy.

Fontaine dressed all in black did things to your libido that wasn’t fit for mixed company. The short sleeved black tee seemed like he bought a size down on purpose, to emphasize his muscles.

“Hey you,” you said.

“Isaac was telling me about the Fair. We should go,” he said.

“The Fair? What we gonna do there?” You asked.

“I’on know. Fair shit,” he said, that damn smirk. You were going to get him to smile if it was going to be the last thing you did on this earth.

“You gon’ win me a teddy bear?” The question popped out before you could think about it and snatch it right back. You wished you could swallow the words, unring the bell, and ask him something different. Something that wasn’t a little too close to home. You always wanted someone to win you a teddy bear from one of those Fair games, carry it around for you.

But that shit was for other, softer girls and men who actually gave a damn. For TV movies and shows with people who didn’t look like you.

“I’m gon’ win the biggest one. So Friday night?” He asked.

“Friday night,” you agreed, little butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

“It’s a date sweetheart,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you watched his generous backside as he went back to the backrooms, making sure your friends were safe. As much as they could be.

When he approached the door, Issac came out of it looking self satisfied. The corner of your mouth lifted in a grimace. Isaac was attractive but something was throwing you off about him. Whether it was his vibe or the oily way he looked at everybody, Fontaine included, you made a mental note to get the full story behind them.

It was obvious that they were close and did next to everything together. Issac said something to Fontaine who shook his head but bumped fists with Isaac. It’d have to be none of your business for now.

Friday night rolled around and Fontaine was punctual in his champagne colored 90s Cadillac. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship and that Fontaine lovingly took care of it.

It was shined to gleaming, silver chrome glinting from the streetlamps. Night was fast approaching and you had a long drive to Pomona, to the Fairgrounds. It was the first time in his car and you had to admit, you were a little nervous.

Fontaine got out of the car and you had to whistle at him. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a red flannel buttoned up. The top two buttons were out, giving you a peek of a black tank underneath. He wore his signature jacket, the same one he wore when you met. You had half a mind to say fuck the Fair and invite him inside.

“I know where yo nasty ass mind is at,” he said as he came around to the street to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a single red rose.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” You asked.

“I know I look good,” he said. He smirked and stepped out, showing you his outfit. He dusted invisible lint from the front of his shirt and you laughed.

“You really do look good,” you said.

“But you look good enough to lick on,” he said. He bit his lip and eyed your outfit, a spaghetti strap dress with a modestly low neckline and blue and red ombre colors. It started out royal blue at the top until it began to lighten around the hips, turning into a jam red at the bottom.

“And you call me nasty,” you said. You tapped his shoulder and his cheeks puffed up. You half thought you were going to get a smile but he stopped himself at the last minute.

“Just telling the truth. Matter of fact, you look too damn good. I’on wanna spend the night catching bodies behind yo cute ass,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. Fontaine said the cutest shit sometimes. Threatening murder behind you was not sexy, but when it dropped from his lips it was. It was a type of possession you didn’t think you craved, but you did. You wanted to belong to him in every sense of the word.

Fontaine escorted you into the street and opened the door for you. You slid inside his car, smoothing your dress over the leather seats. It smelled clean, like some type of mountain scent laced with the particular smell of weed. Fontaine closed the door and walked around the front, climbing in himself.

Low, thumping hip hop music was on in his car and you looked at him. This was different. He was different. And you only wanted to see where the night took you.

As Fontaine got onto the 10 freeway, he got comfortable and leaned back in his seat. The seat was further back still and you got the sense that it stayed a little too far back on purpose. He kept his left hand on the wheel and dropped his other hand to your knee.

You looked at it and it felt right. His hand was warm across your knee and you sunk into the seat, placing your hand over his. The corner of his mouth lifted as you began to speak and get to know each other beyond just his kisses.

“How long you think you gon’ be a gangsta?” You asked.

“Damn girl. Not even gon’ ask me what my favorite color is?” He asked. The red lights from the cars in front of you lit up his face and you found that red suited him well. The starkness of the color played across his features in a way that made him seem timeless.

“I already know what yo favorite color is,” you said.

“What?” He asked. He rubbed this thumb across your knee and you lost the ability to think for a minute.

Everybody Loves the Sunshine played on his stereo and you shook your thoughts loose finally. “It’s purple,” you said.

Fontaine chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, you been paying attention to a nigga, huh?” He asked.

“Whatever, Fontaine,” you said.

“Love it when you say my name. You draw it out and shit,” he said.

“I do not! Just answer my question!”

Fontaine was silent for a moment, weaving in and out of crazy LA traffic. Every year it got worse and worse. To the point that you almost didn’t want to leave the house most days. It was why you started taking the train more. It sucked, but it beat dealing with the mu’fuckas that continued to flock here chasing their paper dreams.

“I’on know how to do anything else. That 9-5 ain’t me,” he finally said, his voice smooth and low. “I need to know if that’s ever going to be a problem. If you can ever accept that this is the life I’m in.”

He slanted his eyes towards you. This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. And Fontaine was a pretty serious person more often than not. He got this look in his eyes, like he saw the world burning before him and didn’t want to bother grabbing a bucket of water to help. Like he liked it.

“I won’t promise to never speak on it. I’m…scared to lose you,” you said. You were surprised it was true. You made him sweat for a month, turning down his date ideas just to see what he would do. Testing him, you supposed. If he was in it for you or for what you had between your legs. Usually you could tell the difference with perfect accuracy.

When it came to Fontaine, nothing was certain. And you didn’t know if that scared you to the point of attraction, or turned you on to the point of fear.

Fontaine squeezed your knee. “You don’t gotta worry about that, sweetheart. It’s me and you,” he said.

Me and you. Those three little words planted themselves inside you, taking root and growing vines around your bones. Sprouting leaves in your lungs and stretched towards your brain, filling it with the oxygen you needed to breathe. Three little words. The wonder of it brought unexpected tears to your eyes.

You grinned at Fontaine. For the rest of the car ride, you got to know more about him. More about his little brother who was killed and why he joined the Scarlets. Why he took up a gun and was never putting it down again.

It made more sense in context. The circumstances were always fucked in the hood. And the tender heart you tried so hard to guard against all evil only broke more for Fontaine. He told you about how his mother retreated into herself. Only got herself together long enough to fake the funk at work and then disappeared into her room.

With mounting bills and not wanting to live off anyone, Fontaine did what any other Black male did in his situation. He grew up.

You told him about your toxic childhood. How your parents alternated between fighting and fucking. That when your dad was lost to the drink, he’d look at you like you were a stranger. And when he sobered up, he looked at you like you were a princess atop a castle. You never knew which side you were going to wake up to.

You told him about your mother and how she always seemed to be jealous of you. Like there was some aspect about how she raised you that she didn’t like. That it was your fault for taking her instruction to heart and not giving a fuck about what anyone said. You wanted something, you went after it.

There was no love in your house so you got out when you were 17 and never looked back. Fuck them. You didn’t want to stay in that house anyway.

Reaching the Fairgrounds, you and Fontaine turned to lighter subjects. How or why you got into dancing. Your favorite dancer was Debbie Allen. You wanted to be her so badly that you studied every move she ever made. That you went for ballet because that was where she started.

She was able to get into TV but that wasn’t really where you wanted to be. Maybe when you got older and your knees started to rebel. For right now, you just wanted to dance. To be free.

You held hands with Fontaine, talking and laughing while you pulled each other around the Fairgrounds. You’d only been once, when you were younger, and hadn’t bothered since then.

There were rides and the sizzling smells of meat that made your mouth water. Desserts, weird food combinations like a Krispy Kreme donut burger, and the sounds of children’s laughter. The ground was littered with wrappers, coupons, and papers.

Fontaine paid for your play cards, dropping a wad of money that made your eyes bug out. He kissed your cheek and told you to go nuts. Anything you wanted to do or try. There was no limit. You told him that he was crazy.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. You grinned and dragged him everywhere. On the ferris wheel, on the spinning ride, and on the zero gravity one until your stomach hurt so badly that you had to sit down. Your head spun painfully and Fontaine rubbed your hand while you giggled about it.

You went into the funhouse with its crazy mirrors. Fontaine only had one request, that you go on the haunted ride with him. You were determined to stay far away from it. You hated the feeling of being scared. He peppered your cheeks with kisses until you relented and got on with him.

You suspected that was his plan all along. To have you clutch onto him for dear life. He chuckled at your theatrics but didn’t make you feel bad.

“Come on, girl, I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms. You giggled. You was gon’ have his babies if he kept doing cute shit like this.

After that ride, you settled on Pink’s for dinner. The smoke from the truck was whipped into the sky by a bitter breeze. You should have brought a jacket. You forgot how fucking cold it got at night out here.

Without saying a word, Fontaine made you wear his jacket. You attempted to tell him that it was okay, if nothing else yo mama ain’t raise no bitch, but he refused to take it back. “I’m hot anyway,” he said.

You grinned, looking up at him. He winked at you and ordered you food. You ate and laughed and talked about nothing in particular. Shit you found on TV. Movies you happened across. Books you’ve read. Music you listened to.

You yawned and leaned your head against him after another round of rides and dessert. A huge funnel cake topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Fontaine had to help you finish it in the end.

“You gon’ have to roll me out of here after all this,” you said, licking your spoon for every wayward swipe of chocolate and smacking your lips with a loud pop. When Fontaine didn’t say anything, you turned towards him. His gaze was fixed on your mouth.

“Fontaine?” You asked.

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer. He licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, feeling his hot tongue on your cold face. He hummed in the back of his throat.

“Delicious,” he said.

He pulled back with a smirk, rubbed your chin, and pulled back. Your whole body heated. Cascading down your body in waves. You rubbed your thighs together, wetness starting to pool in your panties.

“We got a little more to spend before we dip. Let’s get you that teddy bear,” he said.

“I was just joking about that,” you said. You gulped around the tension. So thick, it stuck in your throat.

“I wasn’t,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held out his hand. You took it, hand fitting his like a glove. He threw out the plate you finished up and tucked you into his side while he walked.

In the middle of the grounds, there was a row of carnival games like ring toss and popping balloons. There was also a basketball hoop. Fontaine made a beeline for it, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. A staff member scanned the play card and loaded up the basketballs for Fontaine.

He tested the balls and soon, started sinking ball after ball. Your mouth dropped open. He could’ve been a basketball player with that lethal game! The staff member told you to pick out a small teddy bear. Fontaine stopped you.

“One game is a small teddy bear, but three mediums is a big one right?” Fontaine asked.

The staff member, some pimply kid, popped his gum and nodded. Fontaine loaded up more games, winning each and every one until you had three medium ones and exchanged it for a giant fuzzy teddy bear. It was so big! You squealed when the staff member handed it to Fontaine. He chuckled at your reaction.

You squeezed one of the arms and couldn’t help jumping up and down. You were happy to take the small teddy bear. But the fact that he kept going made your heart soar. “Worth it just to see your face,” he said. You kissed his cheek a hundred times and he finally smiled.

It felt like your world narrowed to that expression on his face. Watching his whole face light up and eyes crinkle. He had a wide smile that took up his whole face. His smile was infectious but you were too dumbstruck to smile back.

“Come on,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Where we going?” He asked.

“I wanna remember tonight. And you better smile!” He chuckled while you pulled him to the nearest photobooth. You probably should have done this before winning the bear, but fuck it. Tonight had been nothing short of perfect and you wanted to capture this moment the best way you could think of. Like those shows and movies did. With something real. Not just something captured on your phone.

You wanted it in your hands. You wanted to slide it into a binder so that you could look at it over and over while in class. Daydream about him in between lockers and free time. Glance at him from across the way on the courtyard. Dance with him at Homecoming. He made you feel young, like you were back in high school with your first crush. Fontaine was everything. Absolutely everything.

The teddy did fit, and you scooted in first. Fontaine chuckled and sat down next to you. He swiped the card and it began to give you instructions. Fontaine was serious the first go around, mean mugging the camera.

“Forreal this time!” You giggled.

Fontaine sighed and rubbed his head. “A’ight, a’ight,” he said. He loaded it up once more. He kissed you in the first picture. Then you did a few silly ones. He tickled you for one of them. On the last one, you couldn’t think of what to do next. So you just looked at him. He looked at you. The camera flashed and you saw it reflected in his beautiful eyes.

You continued staring at each other until the booth buzzed, wanting to know how many copies you wanted. You printed two and finally scooted out. Fontaine scooped up the two cards and you placed your head on his shoulder to look at them.

“Thank you, Fontaine. For everything,” you said. He just…he had no fucking clue what tonight meant to you.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta thank me for this,” he said.

“Yes, I do. And I know just how to thank you,” you said. Your voice turned a little flirty and you lifted your head to look at him. He looked down at you and smirked.

“Is that right?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Yup. We better get back to my place before my roommate gets home,” you said.

Fontaine took your hand and tugged you towards the entrance. You giggled the entire way, feeling giddy and light in a way you hadn’t in a really long time. Fontaine gave you that. Gave you that freeing feeling back. You thought you’d lost it when you accepted that your parents didn’t know how to love you.

His Cadiallac sped down the open freeway, too late for the out of town mu’fuckas to fuck it up for everyone else. The windows were down and the wind rushed through the car with wild abandon. He drove safely, but fast towards your place, hand on your knee the whole way.

The tension was back with a vengeance. Like you were both standing on top of a cliff somewhere ready to dive off. Heat pooled along with your arousal between your thighs and you couldn’t stop clenching them.

Lust. Lust was a powerful thing. Detonating bombs in your core until you were practically drunk on them. Looking forward to them. Until there was only the dirty thoughts running through your mind and the feel of his callused hand on your knee.

Fontaine managed to find a spot on your street. You were on the wrong side of Stocker, where you had to get to the spot faster than your neighbor. Fontaine got out first and then opened the door for you. He even grabbed the teddy for you so he didn’t have to come back outside for it.

You pulled him into your crappy apartment that you shared with Kimmy. Considering Rusty was paying for it, it could have been worse. You still owed rent to him and had to clear out when he wanted to ditch his wife and come mess with Kimmy. She was out with her son and likely wouldn’t be back until sometime Sunday. You didn’t tell Fontaine this. You didn’t want him to think that you were plotting on him.

But you were. You weren’t sure if he was the type to stay after sex, or once he got off, he was already looking for his pants. You wouldn’t really bring him upstairs if it was the latter. You got the feeling that he was a little clingy under that hard facade.

You only turned on enough light to get across the living room and into your room. You turned on the lamp. Both of you were breathing heavily. Bodies preparing to experience an unparalleled pleasure.

Fontaine gripped your hips and you giggled, accepting the kiss he laid on you. The ones before had been tame. He had been holding himself back. These were wilder. Crazier. Lips smashing into yours with a desperate plea to get closer and stay closer.

He pushed his jacket off of your shoulders and you worked on the buttons of his flannel. He helped you pull it off of him and you licked your lips at your first real look at his body. At the tattoos down both sides of his arms. You didn’t have time to catalog them all, but you would eventually. You were going to lick and trace every single one of them.

He was thick in all the right places. A hard stomach and big arms. His stubble tickled your chin while he started to kiss your cheeks and your neck. You were a twisting mess of flailing arms and legs trying to get out of your sandals, his shoes, and his pants while working your way over to the bed.

You pushed him to sit on it and he bounced with a small chuckle. You dropped to your knees, tugging at the zipper of his jeans. “Yo, what you doin’? Ladies first,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed him. “I appreciate that, but I said I wanted to thank you proper,” you said.

“Sheeit, don’t let me stop you then,” he said. He grinned, gifting you with another rare smile from him. It fueled your desire.

You tore desperately at his pants and briefs, freeing his long, thick dick. You moaned at the sight of it. The tip already weeped, precum beading. You swiped your tongue at it and Fontaine moaned, rolling his neck.

You continued to please him, licking him in certain spots trying to learn what turned him on. What made his dick twitch in your hands or his balls jerk. You wrapped your lips around his thick head and sucked him down.

“Fuck! Just like that!” Fontaine groaned. His hands disappeared into your braids, tugging on it. You groaned around his dick and he hissed in return. You batted your eyes at him and sucked him for real this time. No more teasing. No more games. No more tests.

You drooled on his dick, growing wetter at the act. You could practically feel him inside you already, ruining you for any other man. You used both of your hands to please him where your mouth couldn’t reach.

Sputtered words and soft commands filled your ears on top of you gulping him down. “Mm, suck that shit down, sweetheart,” he groaned.

That spurred you on, that you were doing a good job. You gripped his thighs and leaned up to take more of him. “Gah damn,” he said and licked his lips.

You took him in deeper, as far as you were able without using your hands. You breathed where you could. The only thing that mattered was letting him know what this night meant to you. What he meant to you.

You slurped on his dick, letting the spit lube up more of his dick for you to slide on him. His moans grew louder, fingers clutching your braids harder. “I’m finna bust,” he groaned.

You kept going. As if that was supposed to stop you? That was the goal! You wanted him to bust. You wanted to empty his balls into your mouth. You wanted to taste every ounce of his cum in the back of your throat.

He gasped and he was unleashing himself inside you, filling your mouth with him. You swallowed him down and moaned, arousal leaking from you. Pussy throbbing.

Fontaine grabbed his dick and pulled him from your mouth, tapping the head against your lips. You kissed him and he smirked. “You a bad one, ain’t you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Oh? You a good girl?” He asked.

You nodded. He hummed, the low vibration sending signals down to your pussy. “Good girls get rewards don’t they?”

You nodded, too struck dumb by him to say anything else. What was there to say? If you opened your mouth, all kinds of sticky, gooey, lovey dovey shit would fall out and you’d never been good at that.

Fontaine stood up and helped you to stand, he kissed you, not caring that he just finished in your mouth. You loved a nasty nigga. He unzipped your dress and kissed your shoulders while it fell from your body.

He unhooked your strapless bra, freeing your titties and licking his lips at the look of you. “Like two little chocolate kisses for me,” he said. His lips descended on them, suckling each one and learning the shape and feel of them in his mouth.

His hands worked your panties off, pushing them off your legs. He kissed on your chest as he laid you down and now it was his turn to get on his knees. His turn to push his head between your legs and suckle his way past your pussy lips.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. His tongue was a gift from the gods. Long and big, he flattened it against your pussy and moved his head in circles. Your breaths shuddered and your body twisted, legs shaking.

He pulled the orgasm from you like it was his divine right and you screamed out, lungs burning with the effort. Fontaine kissed your thighs and your belly, wiping your essence off on you.

“Let me taste,” you begged. Fontaine chuckled and climbed up your body and kissed you, letting you taste just how wild he made you. You scratched up and down his chest and back, pulling him closer.

“Let me feed you this dick,” he said.

“Feed it to me, baby,” you moaned.

He gifted you with another grin. Wide smile and crinkly eyes that you wanted to swim in. He pushed his jeans completely off and next went his black tank. He didn’t have any tattoos across his spacious chest and you ran your hands over him, learning every mole or scratch on him.

He had a faint scar across his shoulder and you traced it with your thumb. You didn’t have time to ask him about it before his dick was pushing at your entrance.

You hissed and pushed on his chest. You were sure you were wet enough, but he was still massive. “Slow! Slow!” You cried.

He tilted his head and moved his hips, pushing deeper into you. Once the tip was in, he shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. You gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he stretched you out with a bite of pain.

You slapped at his shoulder. “I said slow!”

He chuckled and kissed you, trying to ease the sting. “I can’t help it. You so fuckin’ wet. I need you,” he moaned. He fed you long, deep strokes touching a deep, sweet place inside of you that might’ve been your soul. Like he wanted to write his name in the very fabric of you and never lose you.

You gasped as he delivered these strokes, hissing when he hit that deep spot again and again. Your legs began to shake in earnest. “Mhm, don’t hold it, sweetheart. Let that shit go and lemme feel it.”

“Fon-tai–” you moaned.

“Shhh, I know you wanna call my name. I know you do. But all you gotta do is focus on that nut. Focus on my voice,” he asked.

He stretched you perfectly. And from how much arousal there was, it was staining your sheets. You were sliding up and down on his dick now, titties flapping from the strength of his strokes.

He moaned, watching the expressions play out over your face. He cupped one of your titties, pushing down to hold you in place while he fucked you. “Mhm, doing so good, sweetheart. So good, focusing on you. Focusing on what I’m giving you.”

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Shit, just like that baby. Grip it just like that,” he moaned.

Your cries turned wild, keening, and loud while you gripped onto him and shook and twitched through your orgasm. He hummed while you did so. Satisfied with himself.

“You-you didn’t…”

“I know, turn over,” he said. His deep voice let you know that he wasn’t playing. Somehow, you found the strength to flip over. He smacked your ass, watching it jiggle.

He entered you once more and you cried out. You would never get used to his size. Never get used to him slamming and stroking inside of you.

“Fuck!” You moaned.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. Hear how he knew exactly what you needed.

He gripped big chunks of your ass and used it like handles to slam you down on his dick, faster, and harder. Your elbows ached from trying to brace yourself against him. You slammed back, giving as much as you were taking.

“Ouue, that’s my good girl. You show me what you got,” he encouraged.

You continued to throw it back, craning your neck in time to see him throw his head back, surrendering to your pussy. It was enough to make you cry out, back bowing to another powerful, earth-shattering, world-altering orgasm.

“Take that shit, baby,” he moaned and then finally climaxed, pumping you full of his delicious cum.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I need it, baby,” you moaned.

“I know you do,” he grunted as his dick stopped pulsing. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled out. He spread your ass cheeks to watch. He slapped your ass when you were sure no more would come out. You were thoroughly stuffed like a twinkie.

Fontaine left the room and you collapsed forward onto the bed, strength leaving you. A bit of nervousness crept in its place though. You wanted to ask him to stay. You wanted to roll over and be all sexy and enticing. As much game as you talked, sometimes you had moments where you couldn’t make your mouth move.

Fontaine came back into the room with a warm rag to clean you off. You moaned and he rubbed your ass as he cleaned off your thighs as well. You sluggishly rolled over and smiled at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said and smiled.

“When yo roommate getting home?” He asked.

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Um, I think she said she doing something this weekend,” you said.

“So you gon’ be home alone?” He asked.

You shrugged again and played with the edge of a pillow. “Yeah, I think so.”

The bed dipped as Fontaine sat down on it. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You didn’t want to. You tried to fight him. But he only smirked and held on. You looked at him and he tilted his head.

“Do you want me to stay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said.

He shook his head and pecked your lips. “Be a good girl for me and tell me you want me to stay,” he said.

He smiled and you rolled your eyes. He got on your damn nerves. But you couldn’t quit him.

“I want you to stay, please.”

He nodded and kissed you. Then he pulled you further onto the bed and tucked you under the covers. He defied any expectation you had of his gender. He really was killing it for anyone else.

Though, as sweet as he was being, you knew that there would never be anyone else.

Me and you.

You stopped here and wiped a runaway tear sliding down your cheek. You sniffled. You were both a couple of fools. Two fools in love. In a love that blinded you to anything else.

You should have told him to go. Should have told him that one night was all you could have. Even thinking that, your chest seized like your heart was being compressed under a massive weight.

There was no you without Fontaine. And there was no Fontaine without you, you hoped.

Check out the Tyrone masterlist if you need more in your life! The Secret Tyrone Files

Graphics by saradika-graphics

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healmydesires · 1 year ago

Text

forever in your eyes (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated before. You had been on plenty of dates since you’ve been in Jackson, too many actually, you’ve even been in a semi serious relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like they were supposed to. You’ve never been in love, always thought that falling in love wasn’t meant for you. Until one day, you meet a certain grumpy man.

genre: fluff + romance + angst + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 15k+

tags/warnings: age gap (reader is 27, joel is in his early 50’s), takes place post s1, very minimal use of y/n, soft!joel tbh, kinda shy!reader… at least with joel, flirty joel, joel deserves to be loved, assumed unrequited love from both sides, reader described as shorter than joel, mutual pining, inexperienced/virgin!reader, unprotected sex, piv sex, loss of virginity, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, kinda pleasure!dom?, multiple orgasms, creampie, some breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink, joel is huge… literally packing oof, lots of pet names (darlin, sweetheart, angel, baby girl, etc.), reader has a sister (named emilie, so if that’s your name I’m so sorry 😭😭😭 you can imagine another name then 🥺. I didn’t want it to be y/s/n because that would be so annoying to write imo).

a/n: this is my first joel fic. this is kinda more soft tbh… might be a bit oc? I don’t know but I love it. It’s pretty self indulgent !!! I’ve always loved writing but I got a lot discouraged in the past, giving up on it. I was inspired to start writing again by some of my favourite writers @joelmama and @joelscruff. also english is like my third language so please be nice/gentle with me. do not give me unsolicited advice pls <3 anyways! I hope you enjoy it 🥺

please don’t forget to interact, reblog or let me know if you read/loved it! <3 thank you ily 🥺

AO3 ● playlist

You knew you had feelings for Joel Miller. You’ve always liked and cared for him, even when you first met.

You still remember the day you met him. Clear as day.

It was such a warm and beautiful day, like a year and a half ago. The sun was beaming down on you as you were reading a book that you found on one of your trips outside Jackson — on your front porch of your house. The blowing mid-summer wind was hitting your face, cooling, as if to apologise for the almost unbearable heat that Jackson was currently subjected to. The soft breeze was caressing your skin and hair making the heat a lot more bearable as you enjoyed the day.

You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t hear the people approaching you until there was a shadow descending over the pages of your book. Someone was standing in front of you, their body blocking the sun.

“Yes?” You said with a smile without looking up from your book.

“I would like to introduce you to some people.”

The voice belonged to Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Your eyes widened at that, and you looked up from your book and saw that there were two other people behind Tommy looking down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said before you cleared your throat, giving them a sheepish smile before standing from your lounger, shielding your eyes from the sun to get a better look at the strangers in front of you.

A teenager gave you a polite smile as she introduced herself. As you gave her your name in return you finally noticed the man next to her, gave you a curt nod when you locked eyes with him. He had a broad build, dark eyes and brown peppered hair. You assumed he was around the age of fifty and you couldn’t help but find him incredibly handsome.

“This is Ellie and my brother,” Tommy smiled as he gestured to both people next to him. “They’re your new neighbours.”

You knew Tommy had an older brother but you didn't know what you had been expecting. Maybe someone less handsome. As you continued to take him in you realised you were staring. You felt your body becoming more warm as you felt him stare back at you.

“How’s it going? I’m Y/N.” You gave him a small smile as you stepped forward to extend a hand out to the man.

"Hello," he repeated your name with a deep southern accent, which did nothing to calm your racing heart. You don’t think you’ve ever heard a voice that attractive in your entire life and it made heat flood to your cheeks. His hard expression melted into a more soft one as he took your hand in his. "I’m Joel, how’s your bench going?”

Your eyes widened at his words, “My bench? How did you—”

“We saw you through the living room window earlier this morning or more like Joel did.” Ellie, the teenager said with a huge grin on her face.

“Ellie.” He warned under his breath. His ears turned red and the two of them began to argue in hushed whispers, but your mind was elsewhere as panic began to set in.

Oh my god. He noticed me?

You grew embarrassed as you realised that he saw you struggle to fix that old bench on your porch. You’re painfully aware of how clumsy you are and that you’re not handy at all but you don’t like to ask other people for help. It was not because of your pride or any of that sort, you’d hate to burden someone else with your issues, so you mostly keep trying to fix things yourself.

"Oh yeah..." You said, looking back towards the bench that has been the bane of your existence these past few days. Your words effectively pulled Joel and Ellie out of their current argument. "It's a bit broken and needs some fixing."

Joel just looked at you for a moment before speaking up again. “You know, if you want, I could come check it out?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again at his offer and you glanced over at Tommy. “Uhm…”

“We both used to be contractors back in the day, so if you ever need anything repaired or something built, we are your people. Well… Joel specifically.” Tommy laughed.

“Oh, that’s cool. I think I’m good for now though, I don’t need any help but thanks for offering.” You declined politely with a small smile. You knew you could use their or his help with repairing the bench, but you didn’t want to burden anyone. And the older brother was already making you feel flustered, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself when you just met.

“Alright, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” He gave you a small but genuine smile before the three of them walked away from you.

As they walked away, you released a breath you didn't realise you were holding. The hammering of your heart only registering as the distance grew between you. You felt a bit of disappointment once they were gone, a sense of longing setting in your heart as you thought about the tall and older man that you know you’ll grow to care for.

—

“God damn it. Work with me please.” You grumbled as you tried to fix one of the loose wooden planks of the bench. Sweat was dripping down your forehead as you concentrated on your task at hand. You were on the floor, crouched underneath the bench you were so desperately trying to repair. You’ve been trying to put it off for a couple of weeks now but you knew you couldn’t keep doing that. You knew you should ask someone for help but you didn’t want to give up just yet. Curse words wouldn’t stop leaving your mouth as you struggled. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t take you as a girl that could curse like a sailor.” A low and deep but still soft voice resounds behind you.

“Ah shit!” you gasped as you heard the voice behind you. You’d smacked your head on the edge of the bench when you’d startled at the sudden intrusion. You recognised that voice. Joel Miller. The man that’s been consuming your thoughts for weeks now. You hissed as you rubbed at the already sore spot and landed on your butt as you looked up at him.

The bemused expression morphed into one of concern as he crouched down to your level. “Are you okay?” He replaced your hand with his own, making sure there was no visible injury.

His touch made your body turn hot as he continued to study you.

“Yeah I-I’m fine. Although, I do think it will be a nice bump later.” You chuckled. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, it’s not good for my heart.”

“And your head,” he said as a grin replaced the one of concern. You were glad to be sitting because that smile has been making you weak in the knees lately. Ever since you’ve been introduced you’ve been talking and hanging out here and there, finding out that the man can smile sometimes. You’re not entirely sure why he felt so at ease around you but you were truly grateful that he was spending time with you. (It might be for the fact that Ellie grew fond of you and loved to ask you a million questions whenever she was around.) He had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen and it lit up his whole face, you truly wish he would smile more. Subconsciously you started biting your lip as you admired him.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He questioned with a chuckle as he looked at the state of the bench next to you.

Your face grew warm as you moved to focus your gaze on your hands. “I’m fine.” You whisper softly as you continue to look at your hands in your lap.

You heard him sigh before he took your chin gently in his hand to tilt your head back, making you look into his eyes.

“You know it’s okay to ask for help sometimes?” He said as he studied you intently. It was hard to maintain his eye contact, your face heating up more under his intense gaze and because of the close proximity of both of your faces.

His brown eyes stared into yours and you couldn’t help but find them the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever looked at. Your eyes flitted all over his face, not being able to stay in one place. You couldn’t get over how handsome he was. His head tilted to the side and he gave you a questionable look. You felt embarrassed as you realised you hadn’t replied to him yet.

“Sorry,” you bit your lip nervously as warmth spread even more to your cheeks. Your eyes moved away from his face to a spot behind him as you stared into the distance. “I just don’t want to burden you.” Your voice sounded so small and squeaky that you cringed internally. Embarrassed, you quickly drop your gaze to your lap.

“Oh, Darlin’,” he said gently, his expression turning more soft. “Sweetheart, you could never be a burden.”

“I’m sorry,” you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep yourself from getting emotional. “I didn’t mean to… I just— I just always feel like it’s best I do everything myself all the time because I don’t want to annoy anyone with my problems.”

You’ve always been someone to wear your heart on your sleeve. You’re a very sensitive person and very in tune with your emotions most of the time. People saw you as a very caring and helpful person but when it came to your own things you mostly tended to yourself. You’re aware that most people aren’t like you, at least not anymore ever since the outbreak happened, but you didn’t care. There’s strength in sensitivity.

“You could never annoy me,” Joel frowned. “especially not when it comes to you struggling to do something on your own.”

You weren’t used to people caring for you the way you cared for others. So when Joel reassured you or took the time to hang out with you, you couldn’t help but feel appreciated.

His reassuring words gradually eased your anxiety. You let out a long sigh before looking up at him again. “O-okay, I-I think… I might need your help.” You stutter, hoping he didn’t catch it but he smiled at you warmly instead.

Shit, he’s so pretty. Come on, forget it. He could never have feelings for you.

“Good. Because I’d love to help.” He winked at you with a crooked smile.

Warmth flooded your body as you stared at him, you couldn’t help but feel flustered around him. You’re certain that your heart is running two hundred miles per hour, because it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest.

It’s just a silly crush. You told yourself.

—

Turns out, Joel Miller, your hot new neighbour, could be very handy.

He was able to fix the bench you've been fighting with for weeks in less than an hour. You were truly impressed.

As he brought back the supplies he used to repair the bench back inside to your supply closet, you couldn’t help but want him to stay a little longer. Besides, you wanted to thank him for being so helpful. You’re relieved and so grateful that the ‘demon bench’, as you had called it, was now fixed

“Thank you for helping me out, Joel. It means a lot to me.” You said as you smiled up at him as you both walked towards your front door.

“Oh darlin’ it’s no problem. I loved helping you.” He said with a grin. He moved closer, making your breath hitch which made him smile even more. “You can ask me anything. Whenever you need.” He winked and you felt your insides melt at his words and his actions.

“I-I want to be able to thank you. Give something in return for your help.” You smiled shyly at him.

“You don’t have to do anything for me sweet—”

“Please, let me make you dinner. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.” You cut him off as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Ellie is welcome too!” You added nervously when he took a bit longer to reply.

He snorts softly at your words before clearing his throat. “Ellie isn't in tonight,” he says as he avoids your gaze for a few seconds “she’s at this girl’s place she hangs out with a lot. So it’s just me.”

“Oh that’s okay! I’m sure she can join us next time.” You flashed him a bright smile. “But, I’d love to make dinner for you tonight… if that’s okay?” You asked with pleading eyes.

He chuckled fondly at your expression as he shook his head with amusement. “Of course. I’d love that.”

You felt like you were going to burst out of excitement. Internally you’re screaming, kicking with your legs like a schoolgirl thinking about her crush. You really loved spending time with the man.

Joel followed you back inside as you quickly disappeared down the hall and into the dining room that’s connected to your kitchen. You saw him admire the walls of your dining room from your peripheral view as you’re rummaging in one of the cupboards of your kitchen for a cutting board. Most of the paintings were either more abstract gradient paintings or heavily inspired by the Impressionism art movement.

“You have lots of paintings. They are very pretty.”

“Thank you. Some of them are made by me or my sister.” You smiled genuinely as you made your way back to him.

“Really?” He asked curiously.

Your smile turned timid as you looked up at him, Joel's inquisitive look making you even more shy.

“Yeah… we both love art. Especially making our own sometimes.” You cleared your throat with another bashful smile, before looking down at your shoes.

“Is your sister…?”

“Is she alive? Yes” you finished his question. “She lives here in Jackson with her boyfriend actually.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I’m truly grateful to have her in my life.” You told him. “She’s my best friend.”

“That’s beautiful” he nods at you as a small smile graces his features. You can’t help but feel yourself get more warm at his soft expressions. He’s so beautiful. “How did you two find your way to Jackson?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this but, originally my sister and I weren't from here… the USA I mean.” You told him.

Joel’s eyes widened at your words. You giggled at his expression.

“We are originally from Europe, I was still very young when the outbreak happened. I was around? Seven years old. We were in San Francisco when it happened and my sister and I haven’t really moved from that place for a long time ever since everything went down.” You said as you walked back to the kitchen.

“Christ. That’s very young.” He said, he looked shocked as you told him as much as you wanted him to know.

“Yeah but Emilie was four when it happened.” You said as you bit your lip.

“It must be hard being trapped in a foreign country. Especially when you’re a child.”

“Yeah… My parents eventually died when I turned eighteen. So it was just Emilie and I for a long time. One day a couple of years ago she went outside the San Francisco QZ and I hadn’t heard from her for a long while. I just… I had to look for her, she’s my sister, she means everything to me. I would literally travel through this whole country just to find her. I always felt like I needed to protect her. I’ve always been very overprotective of her, just like I know she is with me.” You chuckled as you shook your head with amusement at your previous words.

“Overprotective huh?” He said as he flashed you a grin as he came to lean against a wall close to you.

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I am the big sister but sometimes it does feel like she’s more overprotective than I am.”

“Your sister seems very nice. I do understand her being overprotective though.” He smiled as he leaned closer to you.

“Oh really?” You bit your lip as you continued to prepare everything for dinner.

“Yeah, I mean you’re a precious little thing so I do understand her overprotectiveness.” He muttered.

Heat rose up in your face at his words. You couldn’t look up at him, feeling too flustered to look him in the eye. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you kept repeating his words in your head. He thought you were precious.

Was that flirting? No. He would never flirt with you.

“Y-you think so?” You question shyly, still not meeting his gaze.

“Uhuhm” He hummed softly, “I don’t only think that, it is so. You’re very precious.”

“O-oh.” You were at loss for words.

Joel chuckled, probably because of your flustered state, before he noticed you struggled with the ingredients. “Let me help you sweetheart.”

“No, it’s okay.” You said. But as most people knew, Joel was a stubborn man.

“Darlin,” he looked at you pointedly, letting you know that you wouldn’t be able to stop him from giving you a hand.

“I’m making dinner for you, to thank you. You shouldn’t be helping me.” You huffed as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. You’re aware you probably look like a child but you can’t help it. Dinner was supposed to be made by you, and only you.

“Oh angel, being in your presence is rewarding enough for me.” He says as he leans closer to your ear.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words. The sound of his deep voice close to your ear, and the feeling of his breath against your skin, made you fight the urge to shiver.

Joel smiled playfully, eyes looked down and locked with yours for a couple of seconds. The close proximity made your skin set on fire. He could lean down a bit more and then his lips would be on yours. You slowly pulled back, clearing your throat while you did.

“A-a-anyways.” You stuttered. You hated stuttering, you never really stuttered but somehow this man could turn you into a flustered, stuttering mess. His smile widened at your state which made you want to run and hide. You decided to change the subject. “I had to go through some states to find her and eventually I found her. Then we travelled together through Wyoming and then some people from Jackson surrounded us and that’s how we got here. That was almost a year ago.”

“So… You are pretty new here?”

“Yep.” You said as you smiled at him.

It was silent for a moment as both of you were preparing everything for dinner. Until your eyes widened at the realisation that you hadn’t offered him anything to drink yet.

“Oh shit, sorry. I can’t believe that I haven’t offered you something to drink yet.” You said as you abandoned your current task, running towards another supply closet, looking for something good for the both of you. “Give me a second.”

You could hear Joel chuckle, knowing he was probably looking at you with an amused expression on his face. You were looking for a specific bottle of red wine, your favourite, the ones you always keep for special occasions. Once you found it you couldn’t help but squeal excitedly. “Aha! Here it is!” You smiled triumphantly as you held it in your hands.

You were grinning widely as you came back into the kitchen. “I’ve got some red wine, I hope that’s okay.” You said as you placed down the bottle on the kitchen counter.

“More than okay.” Joel smiled.

You beamed up at him and opened one of the cabinets, you stood on the tip of your toes as you struggled to reach for some wine glasses.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself. “Why did I put those glasses so high and so far in the back?”

“Let me,” he chuckled softly as he stepped behind you, his body pressing softly against yours. Your breath hitched at the action and warmth spread all over your body. You mentally cursed yourself as you felt a heat pool between your legs. Different kinds of scenarios started going through your head as you felt his body pressed against yours. You wished his arms were wrapped around you as he stood behind you. But one of his arms extended over yours as he reached for two glasses easily. “Here they are.” He whispered as he leant down to whisper close to your ear.

You truly felt as if you caught a fever. He’s so close and so big. As his chest brushed against your back you felt as if your brain short circuited for a second. He was so broad and tall while you were so much smaller than him, he could quite literally swallow you whole with his frame.

You felt his body slowly retreat from yours, giving you the possibility to collect your thoughts again.

“Show off,” you grumbled teasingly, warmth still filling your chest and face.

Joel snorted, shaking his head amused. “You’re just tiny.”

You gasped dramatically, turned around and feigned offence at his words. “Am not!”

“Sure you aren’t.” He teased, a grin forming on his face.

You giggled at that, “you’re just awfully tall.”

“Right.” He nodded along to your words, tried to look as serious as he could, he tried to stifle a grin and you could see right through him.

“I am right.” You pouted.

“So am I.” He retorted playfully, a loud laugh left his lips as you continued to pout, before he took a step closer to you.

Your cheeks warmed, but you tried to hide your embarrassment by crossing your arms and sticking your chin up in the air. Huffing you turned around, “get back to work Mr. Miller.”

“Yes ma’am” he said in mock seriousness as he went back to making dinner with you.

“You’re so silly,” you giggled as you teasingly bumped your shoulder against his arm. You went to open the bottle of wine before pouring some of the liquid in both glasses. Once the glasses were filled you held a glass out to him.

“Only with you darlin’,” he gave you a wink before he took the glass from your hand. Flushed, you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped in your chest when his fingers brushed against yours.

This man is going to be the death of me.

—

Dinner was very nice. There was lots of banter, lots of words exchanged from Joel that felt awfully like flirting but still you tried to push those thoughts away. He wouldn’t flirt with you. You’re pretty certain of it. The tension sometimes was killing you though. You think it was sexual tension but then again that would be impossible because he wasn’t flirting with you.

But you also noticed that the more you hung out with Joel the more relaxed he was around you. You loved that for him. Underneath all that rough exterior he has so much depth to him. He’s very caring, protective, helpful, funny, and so intelligent. He’s so sweet to you too, you didn’t know why. But all you knew is that you care for him so much. You felt comfortable around him too, safe. You couldn’t help but associate him with warmth, safety. Home. He felt like home to you.

Empty plates were still on the table and for a while you were enjoying the comfortable silence between you two. Eventually you broke that silence.

“The wine is so good.” You whispered as you looked at your wine glass then brought your gaze softly to the man sitting across from you. He seemed like he was lost in his thoughts, staring off in the distance as he looked through the window outside towards your garden.

He brought his gaze back to you as he heard your voice, he cocked his head to the side. “Hmmm what did you say sweetheart?”

“It’s good right?” You ask as you motion with your head to the drink in your hand.

“You’re not wrong. It’s very good.” He nods with a soft smile.

“It’s my favourite,” you flashed him a grin before you took a generous sip of your wine, the liquid burning down your throat.

“Oh really?” He questioned with a curious smile.

“Yeah, I keep them for special occasions.” You said as you bit your lip, feeling bashful.

“Is that so?” Joel’s smile turned into a full smirk as he looked straight into your eyes. “I am assuming this is a special occasion then?”

You hummed your agreement, shrugging your shoulders with faux nonchalance as you continued to bite your lip. Warmth was overwhelming you. Not only because of the alcohol you consumed but that man always made you heat up.

“I’ll consider that as a compliment.” He said as he leaned back in his chair.

Excitement bubbled inside you. Feeling bold, you winked at him. “As you should.”

He was visibly surprised, Joel didn't expect you to finally flirt back. You giggled at his reaction, pleased to see that you could surprise him.

You stood up from your seat with a smile as you took the empty plates from the table, bringing them to the sink.

As you’re about to turn the faucet on you heard him stand up from his chair. He muttered your name, his voice coming out a lot deeper than usual. Fighting back a shiver you slowly turned around to look at him. Your eyes were wide with curiosity and your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. He looked at you, a desperate expression on his face.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice hoarse as his dark eyes continued to hold your gaze. For the first time of the night you couldn’t fight back the shiver from going down your spine. Heat flooded your body, your cheeks burning, the warmest you’ve ever felt them.

Joel must have noticed the way your body was reacting to his voice, as he dragged a low shuddering breath at the sight of you.

“Joel?” Your breath turned heavier as you waited for him to say or do something. Your wide pleading eyes stared into his hungry eyes. He continued to stand there just looking at you, his chest moved quicker as he breathed more heavily. Your heart pounded so fast and hard that you were worried that he could hear it from across the room.

Your eyebrows pulled together as you stared at him, your eyes shining with curiosity. You waited with bated breath for Joel to say what he was meant to tell you. He looked at you desperately before he moved from his spot, striding towards you but before he could reach you, someone barged through the door of your home with a loud bang.

“Hey! I knew I’d find you here.” Ellie yelled without looking at both of you. Once her eyes settled on both Joel and you her mouth fell open. “What’s happening?”

You were breathing heavily as you looked at Joel. Eventually you brought your gaze to the teen. “N-nothing, Ellie bean.” You stuttered out quickly, moving away from the kitchen towards the younger girl. “We just had dinner.”

Her eyes widened, “without me?”

Your face flushed with embarrassment before you turned around to look at Joel. “I thought she was at—”

“I’m assuming you told her I wasn’t home tonight, right?” Ellie cut you off, raising one of her eyebrows as she looked at him.

Wait what? Did he want to be alone with me?

Joel swallowed and then avoided both Ellie and your gazes. “Alright.” She snorted.

“I think it's better if we go home.” Joel finally spoke up, before walking towards Ellie. You feel yourself deflate at his words and you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“O-okay.” You whispered, looking down as you entwined both of your hands nervously.

Ellie looked at you with sympathy before glaring up at Joel. “You’re so stupid.” She grumbled under her breath as she gave him a shove as she made her way to the front door.

“Ellie,” he warned her.

“You are.” She sneered.

Joel sighed deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hand before looking at you. “Thank you for dinner,” he said with a small but grateful smile.

“Thank you for fixing my bench on the front porch,” you gave him a faint smile. “I enjoyed spending time with you.” You said as you looked away timidly.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me.”

You bit your lip as you avoided his gaze. He said your name softly before he held your chin gently with one of his hands, tilting your head towards his face which made your eyes lock with his own.

“I always enjoy spending time with you.” Warmth rose to your face at his words. He gave you a warm smile before releasing your chin.

You walked with him towards your front door, leaning against it as you tried to say your goodbyes to each other.

“I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too.” You said as you bit your lip.

“Goodnight darlin’.” He said with a barely noticeable smile before he walked out your door.

Your eyes met Ellie’s waving at you from in front of your porch. You return the action with a small wave.

“Goodnight.” You whispered before you closed the door behind them. You rested your back against the door, exhaling a long breath you realised you didn’t know you were holding in.

—

You were in too deep.

As months went by, you were more and more aware of how strong your feelings were beginning to grow for Joel. So strong that they were starting to terrify you. Not because you didn’t want to have these feelings for him, no that was certainly not it. You just never experienced feelings this strong for someone before.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated before. You had been on plenty of dates since you’ve been in Jackson, too many actually, you’ve even been in a semi serious relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like they were supposed to.

You’ve never been touched intimately before, never had sex either. You knew how inexperienced you were but so far, you just hadn’t found someone to be worthy of your time.

You’ve never fallen in love with anyone before. And these new feelings were truly scaring you. For so long you were so certain that you’d never fall in love with someone. That falling in love wasn’t meant for you. That those feelings would never exist for you. The apocalypse hadn’t made things easier either so it wasn’t like falling in love was an option for a long time. But now that you’re relatively more safe, it was a possibility.

It was so much easier when it was just a crush, or an infatuation, despite the fact that you knew that crushes usually wouldn’t make your heart swell so big or your lungs feel so tight when you think of them or see them. But now, it’s a lot harder to pretend that it’s not more than that.

You always dreamed of the day you’d finally fall in love but now that those feelings were here they made you feel like you wanted to run and hide.

You’re not sure you’d be ready to confess those feelings to him any time soon. You were quite certain that they would be one sided, so you’d prefer to keep those to yourself. Because why would someone like him ever see you the way you see him, the way you feel for him. You were a lot younger than him, around twenty years or so. You’re twenty seven. So it seemed impossible for you that he could regard you in the same way you did.

So you decided to do just that, keep them a secret. And you were completely fine with that, with your feelings remaining completely unknown to anyone but yourself.

Or so you thought.

—

On a beautiful warm spring day, you decided you were going to indulge in your favourite hobby. Drawing.

You’ve always loved art, specifically, you loved sketching. If it wasn’t for the fact that the world ended, you’d like to think you would’ve studied art or tried to become an artist.

You were pretty good at it actually, not to sound too full of yourself. But with the way things were, your skills weren’t at their full potential. And besides you didn’t like to tell most people, keeping it a secret because you were always too shy or embarrassed to show people your talents. So you sketched as much as you could in your free time.

You loved to draw all sorts of things, nature, still life, animals and sometimes, people. But on top of your innocent drawings you also had a specific secret sketchbook that you only drew in when you were certain you were alone.

This sketchbook was dedicated entirely to indulging in your massive crush on Joel Miller. (Okay, crush is an understatement.) It was usually difficult to draw a specific person when they weren’t standing right in front of you, but you had seen his face so many times that it was nearly photographically imprinted in your mind. You would often summon his face up whenever you were alone. As many times as you could. Most of these were just his face, the sketchbook was definitely filled with several of him smiling. Some were just details of, for example, his hands or his eyes. Or even his nose or lips.

Everything about him made you feel warm inside. You would always be a flustered mess around him and it would even make you heat up when you’d draw him. Sometimes you’d have to take breaks from drawing him because you’d start getting too hot from thinking about him.

You often felt like you were doing something bad or wrong, like you were some sort of stalker when all you did was admire him.

It was a specific drawing you were currently working on, after checking and double-checking that you were truly alone. It was a beautiful day and you had the day off, so you figured what better way to spend it then by sitting on your front porch all day while enjoying the weather and sketching out what you’d seen the man do during your shared patrol the day before.

The drawing was him holding his gun as he concentrated on a target in front of him. You were so focused on sketching him as well as you could, wanting to capture every feature of him in the best way possible. You recalled his intense expression, the way his jaw clenched while he was so focused yesterday. His dark brown eyes and his handsome side profile—

“What are you drawing?”

You practically jumped and yelled as you heard the voice close to you. Hurriedly you tried to close the sketchbook as you addressed the person standing close to you. “Ellie! You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m just done with school and thought I’d drop by. I kinda wanted to spend some time with you.” She smiled at you as she was leaning against the wall. The soft expression slowly turned into a more mischievous smile as she cocked her head to the side to study you. “You okay there, Y/N?”

You swallowed nervously before giving her your best smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well… you’re looking pretty nervous or flustered. Embarrassed even.” She said as she smirked deviously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine.” You said as you tried to keep your composure.

You could never tell Ellie about the fact that you’re drawing Joel. He’s practically her father figure. Besides, you were quite certain it would make the whole situation awkward.

“You sure?” She asked as she leaned closer to you. “Could it have something to do with… what you’re drawing?”

“I— no. I mean no.”

“Hmmm.” Ellie hummed as she looked at you suspiciously.

Before you could react, Ellie snatched the sketchbook out of your hands at lightning speed.

Fuck. fuck. FUCK. Please no.

“Ellie—”

You sprang to your feet and quickly tried to grab the book back from her, but Ellie pulled it just out of reach at the last second with a huge teasing smirk on her face. Your face burned with shame.

“It’s nothing Ellie, please give it back!” You couldn’t hide the terrified desperation in your voice.

“You sure it’s nothing?” She said as she hid the sketchbook behind her back.

“Yes!” Apprehension fills your bones at her actions.

“Ah, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind letting me take a peek at what’s inside right?” Ellie grinned dangerously as she moved the book in front of her.

“Please give it back.” Tears started to well up in your eyes as you pleaded for her to give it back.

Shit. It’s over.

As she opened the book on a random page, a gasp left her mouth. “Oh my god?!”

“Ellie, I’m—”

“You’re drawing Joel?” She whispered with wide eyes as she flipped through the pages.

You’ve never felt your face warm up this hot in your entire life. “No?” You said nervously but it came out more as a question.

Ellie said your name softly as she looked at you with a huge smile. “You have a crush on Joel?”

“I— I-I’m— uhm I don’t know, I just—” you stuttered as you tried to retrieve the sketchbook. Ellie pulled back which made you want to scream internally.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” Her face softened as she saw you look utterly terrified. “If anything, I’m very happy.”

“What?” You asked as you blinked your tears away.

“How could I be mad at you? I’ve always wanted Joel to be happy. He deserves that, even if he often doesn’t think he deserves that himself.” She smiled at you before looking back at some of the drawings inside the book. “They’re very beautiful by the way. I love drawing too.” She stepped closer to you as she went to put the book back in your hands. “Besides,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “he has a crush on you too.”

“Oh.”

Warmth flooded your body as you listened to her. You quickly felt overwhelmed by her words and everything that happened, you needed to sit down to process it better. You went to sit down with the book in your lap, looking down at it as you were at loss for words. It was very difficult for you to wrap your head around what she said. Joel having feelings for you? You couldn’t allow yourself to believe it. As you let her words sink in, she took a place next to you, placing a hand on your arm and giving it a small reassuring squeeze. Ellie gave you enough time to collect your thoughts and you were truly grateful for that.

You heaved out a long sigh. “I don’t have a crush.” You finally spoke up but not meeting her gaze just yet.

“What? But—”

“Saying it’s a crush is an understatement.” Your voice trembled as you finally looked at her. “I’ve never felt like this in my entire life, so it’s hard for me to deal with what I’m feeling.”

“Oh.” She said as her eyes widened. “You’re… In love?”

“I am pretty sure I am, yes.” You nodded with a small smile.

“Okay. Well he has feelings for—”

“Ellie, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have feelings for me.” You interrupted her.

“Oh my god,” she groaned as she hid her face in her hands, mumbling, “you’re both so oblivious.”

“What?”

“You’re both so stupid. So oblivious.” She groaned once again as she threw her hands in the air. “You both think that the feelings are one sided.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off as you let yourself lean back on the bench. You’re quite certain that you’re the only one being so consumed by these emotions. You’ve pretty much made your mind up about the fact that it’s impossible for him to return any of those feelings that you have for him.

“The atmosphere when I came in the last time both of you had dinner, just the two of you, certainly didn’t look like it was one sided.”

“Barged in.” You corrected her teasingly as you bumped your shoulder into hers.

“Okay, whatever. My point still stands.”

“Ellie, that was months ago…” you sighed deeply and shook your head at her words.

“Stop. Why do you do this?” She asked exasperated.

“Wh—”

“Why do you believe that he wouldn’t have feelings for you too?” Ellie questioned as she leaned closer to you. “Like, you’re so pretty and have such a lovely personality.”

“I-I I don’t know. I just find it hard to believe. Besides,” you shrugged with a frown “I find it very hard to deal with my own emotions because I’ve never been in love before so this is so new to me.”

Her eyes softened as she listened to you. Slowly, she brought her hand to squeeze your arm reassuringly. “I can understand that. But love is a beautiful thing.”

“True…” you whispered.

“I can understand being scared, but Y/N you’re so worthy of love. Just like Joel is. I am convinced both of you are meant for each other.” She said with a hopeful expression.

“Ellie—”

“I’m serious. Just, please think about it for a while. You both deserve more than this secret pining for each other.” She grumbled at the last sentence.

“Okay I will. Can we please talk about something else now?”

“Sure.” She shrugged with a smile.

“Thank you, Ellie bean.” You said gratefully.

It’s quiet between you two, as you two sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the beautiful weather and each other’s company.

“So… drawing huh?” She grinned.

—

As Ellie and you were talking about your shared love for drawing you heard someone approaching the both of you. Ellie is the first one to look up and she greets the person with a wide smile.

“Hi Emilie!” Ellie beamed as your sister stepped foot on your front porch.

“Oh, here are my favourite girls!” She said with the biggest grin on her face. Emilie brought her hand up to high-five Ellie. “Hey ravioli.” She said as the youngest girl hit her hand.

Ellie scoffed and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Jeez, just because I love ravioli doesn’t mean you have to call me that. Can’t a girl love food in peace.”

Your sister doesn’t reply to the teen and averted her attention to you, greeting you too. Emilie gestures for Ellie to scooch over, before she plops down on the bench between both of you. “So what are you guys talking about?”

“Hey! That bench was recently repaired! There’s no need for you to let yourself fall on the seat like that.” You groan at your sister's silly behaviour.

“Recently? That was months ago.” Ellie counters with a playful smile.

“Ah yes, the bench that the love of your life repaired.” Emilie said with a dreamy expression.

You gasped at her words, feeling your cheeks heat up instantly. You gave her a light shove, “Emilie!”

“What?” Your sister shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s true.”

“Love of your life?” Ellie beams.

You sighed dramatically before leaning against the back of the bench. “Look at what you just did.” You gestured towards Ellie.

“Oh quit the theatrics.” Your sister rolled her eyes teasingly. “Everyone knows you have feelings for Joel except for that man himself.”

Your eyes widened as her words registered in your mind. “Everyone?” You squeaked.

“Yes, just like everyone knows that man is pining over you except for you!” Your sister said exasperated.

You shook your head frantically. “You’re ly—”

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Ellie groaned. “Wake up.”

“Yeah, lovely sister of mine,” Emilie placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a serious look, “respectfully wake the fuck up.”

“Disrespectfully, Emilie, shut up.” You said to your sister, shrugging her hand off you. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting as you still leaned against the bench.

“Why are you pouting? This is a good thing.” Ellie huffed.

“Yeah, this is a good thing. Why don’t you want to allow good things into your life?” Emilie asked, looking at you seriously.

Silence fell for some moments, before you whispered, “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“Yes, you do!” Both Ellie and your sister said simultaneously.

You bit your lip as you looked at them silently. You knew deep down that you deserved to love and be loved in return but it was so hard for you to accept that someone could genuinely have feelings for you. It wouldn’t make any sense, you were always used to people that were attracted to you to expect something from you that you weren’t ready to do or they wouldn’t genuinely care about who you are as a person. You knew Joel was different, he showed you enough through the past year. But somehow your mind tried to tell you otherwise.

“This is driving me insane,” Ellie sighed, shaking her head.

“Ellie,” your sister said pointedly at the younger girl before turning back to look back at you. “Y/N… you are so worthy of love. I know you’ve never experienced this type of emotion or feeling ever before, but you deserve to feel safe with someone and to love someone deeply and for them to love you just as fiercely. I know you keep thinking because of past relationships, friendships or situationships that people aren’t truly interested in you or that people don’t genuinely care for you. But, those people do exist. Ellie cares for you, I do, and I am completely certain that Joel cares for you too. You deserve to feel loved, cared for and to be happy.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at your sister’s words. You felt truly overwhelmed by everything she told you. Deep down you knew she was right, you were trying to believe her words but you knew it might take a bit of time.

“Thank you.” You whispered, tears flowing down your cheeks as you hugged her side. “You don’t know how much that means to me. It might take some time for me to truly believe everything you said but I want to try.”

Both girls went to envelop you in a warm hug, squeezing your body tight. You felt your body relax in their embrace.

“I love you.” Ellie whispered, at her words you hugged her body tighter.

“I love you too, Ellie bean.” You smiled, tears still in your eyes as you leaned your head against the crown of her head.

And for the first time in a long time you felt like your heart could breathe again.

—

A month passed and you still hadn’t confessed your feelings to the man that’s been consuming your very brain for a year. You still hung out whenever you could, but telling Joel how you felt about him still terrified you. But as time passed, you allowed yourself to believe the words your sister and Ellie told you. It was very freeing.

One thing that didn’t change though was your stubbornness. You are certain you will always hate asking people for help. Like for example, the fact that your shower head was acting up so much you couldn’t take proper showers which made you have to use Emilie’s shower at her place sometimes. Until the shower head actually broke.

That’s why a few days later, you were standing in front of Joel’s door, contemplating if you should really ask him for his help. You bit your lip as you thought about it. Sighing, you told yourself that you should just do it. As you were about to knock, the door opened.

Your eyes widened as you came face to face with Joel. Your cheeks heat up as you lock eyes with him. You know you shouldn't be flustered right now because he is the only one who can help you. And he did tell you that you could always come to him if you needed his help. Or for anything really. But somehow, you still couldn’t help but feel shy around him.

“Sweetheart?” Joel looked at you worriedly.

“H-hi?” You smiled sheepishly. “Am I coming at a bad time?”

“No, ‘course not.” He shook his head slightly, a soft smile curled upon his lips. “Everything alright?”

“I am alright, it’s just,” you trailed off as you looked away shyly. “I think I might need your help.”

Joel closed the door behind him as he kept his gaze on you. He motioned for you to show the way. “Let’s go.”

You giggled as you shook your head light heartedly. “You don’t even know what I need your help for.”

“That’s where you're wrong darlin’. A little birdie told me your shower head is broken.” Joel’s mouth twitched in mild amusement as you just gaped at him.

Oh my god… Emilie.

Your face burned once again. You couldn’t believe that your sister would tell the person you’re desperately in love with about this. You felt embarrassed, knowing that he knew about you struggling. As if he could read your thoughts, “I only know since yesterday, but I wanted you to come to me when you were ready.” He said as he looked at you, a gentle smile on his lips.

“O-okay.” You said, groaning internally at your stuttering. “Anyways, yes. I need your help with fixing my shower. I hope that’s okay?” You asked hesitatingly.

“��Course it is. Show the way, pretty girl.” He winked, beckoning for you to move along.

He thinks I’m pretty?

—

Joel was standing in your shower as he tried to fix the shower head. He smiled as he threw you a thumbs up.

“Ah, here we go. This should work now—” Joel’s smile faltered as water started unexpectedly spraying out of the shower head. Surprised, it slipped out of his hands, dropping to the floor, the spray pointing up at him, which drenched Joel quickly.

Your eyes widened as you took Joel in. His white shirt and jeans are both drenched and sticking to his body. You could see the outline of everything. Your body turned flush with heat as you continued to stare at him. You couldn’t help but find him so hot, with his shirt clinging to his body. He grumbled as he looked down at the state of his clothes. Eventually you moved into action, “O-oh let me get you a towel!” you blurted out. You quickly made your way to one of your closets in your bedroom, rummaging for some spare towels.

“Y/N stop being such a creep.” You grumbled to yourself, embarrassed that you were staring at him so unabashedly. You’re worried that he might think you’re creepy, staring at him like he was the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. Well, actually, he was the sexiest man to you. But you didn’t want him to think of you as some sort of weirdo. That’s the last thing you want, for him to think you’re creepy. As you found the towels you were still in such a deep inner monologue while you walked back into the bathroom.

“I found the towels—” you gasp, accidentally dropping the towels on the floor as you took Joel in.

The man had taken off his shirt, most likely because he didn’t like the feel of the fabric clinging to his body. He took your breath away. As you once again stared at him you couldn’t help but let your wide eyes wander all over his chest. He was broad, he wasn’t really muscular but he had a solid build. He was strong and large, and soft in the right places. There were some scars littered over his skin here and there, as a result of the years of fighting to try and stay alive. Some hair was scattered over his body, your eyes trailing along his happy trail, eventually disappearing underneath his jeans. You felt yourself ache between your legs as your eyes continued to roam over his form, studying him with so much intensity. You were still admiring him when he spoke up.

“I’m not really nice to look at.” He mumbled.

Your heart ached at his self deprecated words. You couldn’t believe what he said. How could he think of himself so lowly? You thought he was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “W-what?” You said as you shook your head frantically.

“I’m not—”

“Joel Miller, you better stop bringing yourself down.” You said sternly, surprising both of you. You sighed loudly as he looked at you with wide eyes, “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand the need for you to put yourself down when you’re far from unattractive.”

Silence fell for a couple of moments. Until Joel exhaled shakily. “You-you think I’m attractive?” The man asked, he seemed so doubtful.

“I thought that was pretty obvious…” you trailed off shyly as you looked at the tiled floor between your two feet. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious to everyone else.” You chuckled nervously.

You heard him grunt softly before hearing his wet, heavy steps, as he slowly made his way to you. Joel grasped your chin gently, tilting your face towards him. You felt your cheeks burn, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his touch. Your eyes lock with his as he looks at you desperately.

“You think I’m attractive?” He repeated his earlier question more pleadingly.

“I don’t only think you’re attractive… you’re so beautiful. So pretty. Handsome…” you trailed off as you duck your head timidly. “Sexy.” You said apprehensively, before looking away from him. “I think you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen.”

“I think you’re beautiful as well. The prettiest little thing that has ever walked this earth.” He whispers, his voice coming out a lot deeper. “Words can not describe how beautiful you are. Inside-out.”

You felt your breath catch in your chest as you felt your body tremble at his words. You slowly looked up at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. You couldn’t help but like how he was towering over you. He was so broad, so strong. You felt your face burn, biting your lip and feeling incredibly weak as his gaze stayed locked with yours. You felt light headed at the close proximity. You could barely think straight.

He brought his hands down to your waist, holding your body close to his as he smiled warmly down at you. He whispered your name, breath hitching as he looked at you intently. “Sweetheart…”

You breathed his name softly before his lips connected with yours in a gentle kiss. You gasped in surprise at his actions, but you quickly closed your eyes as he deepened the kiss. Joel’s large hands cupped the side of your face in such a tender way it made your insides melt. Never did you think you’d ever be able to feel his lips on yours. And here he was, kissing you. Your arms wrapped around his back, your fingers digging in his back the action making him grunt. His beard was rough against your soft skin, but was so welcomed. You kissed him back just as deeply, hands stroking up and down his back in a soothing manner.

He held you tighter against his body before slowly pulling away, resting his forehead against yours as both of you breathed heavily against each other's lips.

“I hope that was okay.” He said with a gentle smile. Tears welled up in your eyes as you processed what happened, having a hard time to believe that their kiss really happened. Never in your life were you ever able to keep your heavy emotions in control. Certainly not when you were overwhelmed. His forehead furrowed, concern flashing through his eyes. “What’s wrong Darlin’?”

God, why do I have to get so emotional?

“I am so sorry I just. I feel a bit overwhelmed because I always thought you’d never feel anything for me.” You rambled anxiously and your fingers trembled as they swiped under your eyes. “If you have any feelings for me, that is.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty obvious.” He smiled gently, his hands cupping your cheeks. Softly, he brushed your tears away with his thumbs. “Especially after… you know, kissing you.” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah maybe…” you shrugged with a giggle, “you do have a point.”

“I do, don’t I?” He smirked playfully.

“You’re so silly.” You rolled your eyes lightheartedly.

“Only with you darlin’,” he winked.

You felt the heat rise in your face once more. You don’t think you could ever get used to his teasing or his flirtatious behaviour.

“So corny…” you snorted as you shook your head with amusement, “you’re lucky I love you.”

You quickly covered your mouth at the realisation that those words were said out loud. Your heartbeat was beating loudly in your chest, as your wide eyes met his. You wonder if he could hear your heart practically beat out of your chest.

His breath hitched in his throat, as his eyes bored into yours. “You mean that?”

Heat overwhelmed your body, feeling as if you’re on fire. Your mouth felt extremely dry, still you tried to swallow, nodding slowly anticipating his next reaction. “I do.”

The molten intensity made you unable to look away as both of you just breathed and stared into each other’s eyes. You felt as if time stopped in that moment, your bodies so close, yet they felt so far. As he held your gaze, he moved his body closer to yours again.

“Joel—” you whispered breathlessly.

He cut you off, kissing you by surprise. Capturing all the words you were about to say. Completely shocked, your whole body froze as you felt his lips claim around yours, hands pulled your face towards his as he kept pressing his lips further, almost to the point it hurt.

All your thoughts overwhelmed your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on. Like a magnet, you felt your body move closer to his, moving your hands around his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

You nibbled on his bottom lip lightly, eliciting a moan from him. Slowly, he pulled away from your lips, to press kisses to your cheek. His lips slowly travelled all over your face. You whimper as his mouth moved from your jaw to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses all over your neck, your hands moved towards his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He questioned, his beard scratching your neck as he continued to kiss your neck. Your body trembled against his as he continued to suck, kiss and lick your neck.

“Hmmm?”

Joel groaned and stopped his actions when you didn’t reply to his question, pulling back to look at your face. You feel his stare, waiting for your response. You hadn’t realised your eyes fell closed as you were enjoying his kisses. Unhurriedly, you opened your eyes, looking right into his.

You swallowed dryly at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushed to your cheeks as you decided to tell him the truth. How could you not? When he’s looking at you with so much desperation.

“Like… at least a half year ago?” You answered, your hesitant eyes looking into his own.

Joel groaned loudly, enveloping your lips with his once again. He kissed you with so much passion, giving you everything that had to offer. His mouth moves against yours so hungrily. As he continued to give you long and deep kisses, you felt the heat rising within you. The throbbing between your legs felt unbearable as you whimpered desperately against his lips.

“I love you too baby, so fuckin’ much.” He rasped against your lips.

A gasp left your lips at his words and he deepened the kiss even more, as he quickly took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips and swirling it around yours. You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you continued to kiss each other ferociously, your fingers raking through his peppered hair.

He grunted as he pushed your body against the wall. His arms wrap around your body, holding your body close against his. You whimpered as his lips travelled from your lips to your throat, nipping at the skin which resulted in you squirming in his hold. Your hands busied themselves with exploring his exposed back, caressing his skin.

He moved his mouth towards your ear, “you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about holding you.” He murmured. Joel’s lips travelled towards your shoulder while littering your skin with soft kisses. “Kissing you.” His hands wandered unhurriedly against your back, his hands eventually settled on your lower back, just above your ass. “Touching you.”

“Please,” you whined as you tried chasing his lips again, gripping his strong arms with your hands.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” He whispered raspily into your ear. A shiver went down your spine at his words. Joel’s voice carried so much emotion. So much desperation and adoration for you. “I love this baby blue dress on you. Although it’s really killing me right now.” He groans against your neck as his hands finally move to your ass over your frilly summer dress, grabbing a handful of your cheeks.

You felt even more wetness pool between your legs as you thought about the fact that you weren’t wearing any lingerie underneath.

You turned into a bigger whimpering mess as he kept littering your neck, shoulders and face with kisses. You felt one of his legs sliding between your legs, pressing his thigh against your exposed core.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

Joel lifted his head and your eyes caught his, his lips finding yours in a rough kiss, not wasting any time as he slipped his tongue past your lips. The man is wrapped around you completely, a hand caressing your back, the other holding your ass. Your body trembled as Joel started rubbing his thigh against your soaked core. You’ve never wanted someone more in your whole life.

“Joel,” you whined desperately.

“Tell me what you want kitten.” He groaned.

A loud whimper escaped your lips at his words. The pet name turned you on extremely. Your hips moved against his thigh, grinding against the clothed material.

“I want you.”

A string of moans slipped past your lips as Joel moved his head up to lick into your mouth.

“Pleaseee.” You whined against his lips as you rubbed your sensitive pussy against his jeans. “I need you.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Ah!” You gasped as he picked you up effortlessly. Quickly, you wrapped your legs around his hips. The both of you continued to kiss each other passionately as Joel carried you to your bedroom. Once he reached your bed he softly placed you down the sheets.

You felt the bed dip before he hovered above you. Joel’s dark eyes stare into yours as his hands move underneath the skirt of your dress, his fingers trailing up your thigh. You felt yourself grow nervous at his touch.

“W-wait.” You whispered.

His movements halt immediately at your words. He looked at you worriedly, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You wanted him so badly and you were extremely wet but you would be lying if you weren’t a bit nervous. Everything seemed more real once his touch moved closer to your intimate parts.

You exhaled deeply. “It’s just… don’t get me wrong, I want this. I literally want you so badly, but I’ve never been with someone intimately.” You said nervously as you waited for his reaction.

“Oh baby girl,” he whispered, looking at you tenderly. “Don’t you worry about that. I will take good care of you.” He smiled as he leaned down to rub his nose gently against yours. “But, we don’t need to do anything if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready, I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You nibbled anxiously at your bottom lip.

“Baby, you could never disappoint me with this. You'll always be a good lover to me. You’re literally perfect. I promise.” Joel smiled gently, looking at you with so much adoration before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You felt your whole body relax once his lips touched your skin. You trusted him, he was your everything.

Your lips moved to his neck before you placed an open mouthed kiss to his skin. “Please Joel, I need you.” You whispered seductively into his ear.

He groaned loudly before engulfing your lips in a heated kiss. You whimpered against his mouth as his hands started slowly caressing both of your thighs. Your head was clouded with so much lust, you felt so much love for him. Your brain turned quite literally into mush as you continued to kiss each other deeply.

You moved your hips desperately as you moaned against his lips, hoping Joel would get the hint.

“Such a needy kitten.” He chuckled against your lips.

“Only for you.” You whispered as you looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He counters playfully.

“Please.” You whined desperately as you wiggled underneath him.

Moments later his lips pressed against yours again. The kiss got more heated the more you kissed each other. Your hands wander to the back of his head and you pull at some strands softly making him moan into your mouth. One of his hands slowly trailed up your thigh once again. Your whimpers came out more frequently the closer his hand moved to where you needed him the most. Once his fingers come in contact with your heat you mewl loudly.

“Fuck,” he moaned against your lips, you’re certain because he felt how soaked you were for him. “You’re so fuckin’ wet baby girl. All for me?”

You were overwhelmed with warmth, it felt like a hot storm — as he spoke those words. You nodded frantically. You were sopping wet, you managed to speak but your voice is strangled and pathetic. “P-please. T-take off your clothes.”

“And leave you in this dress? Out of question.” He chuckled as he moved the hand that was touching your wetness to your thigh.

“Who said I wanted to stay in this dress?” You said as you raised one of your eyebrows at him.

“Baby—”

“Undress me cowboy.” You smiled as you pulled your bottom lip with your teeth seductively.

“God, you’ll be the death of me.” He groaned loudly.

“My name is Y/N but god sounds good too.” You giggled.

Joel shook his head with an amused grin on his face. His fingertips find the hem of your dress and you sit up a bit. You raised your arms quickly to help him get rid of your baby blue dress.

You felt your body tremble in anticipation, as his eyes roamed all over your naked body, his eyes not being able to stick to one place. You felt your heartbeat picking up as his hands reached for your hips, holding them and pressing your body closer to his. His lips moved to ghost over your neck, slowly moving below your ear. “You’re out of this world. So beautiful.” He whispered into your ear.

His lips then crashed against yours as you gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing, and took it upon yourself to guide his hand back down to your heat. His mouth fell from yours to unleash a heavy groan into your neck at the first slip of his fingers between your wet lips.

It's very, fucking wet, more wet than you'd honestly ever been and certainly more wet than he could've imagined in his wildest dreams.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful sweet girl,” he muttered again in a very raw tone, his voice strained. His lips trail slowly down to your neck, all the way to your chest. Joel breathed in through his nose, you flush harder at his words and shivered when he exhaled warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “The prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

That’s all you’ve been given before he wrapped his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucked and licked passionately, as he also pushed one of his fingers inside your pussy.

The whine that came out of you only drove Joel to seek out more of those heavenly sounds.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He moaned, as your pussy clenched around his digit. “I need to prepare you as much as I can for my cock.”

Your whines became louder as you felt the pleasure overwhelm you. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, one of his fingers is more pleasurable than any of your fingers.

His tongue began licking, long licks with the flat of his tongue over your hard nipple as his other hand kept pumping his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

You whined as your core started clenching around his finger, begging for more. Instinctively you began moving your hips, grinding against his hand, as he groaned against your skin. His lips left your breast with a wet pop and he looked at you intensely as he continued to fuck you with his finger. You were panting heavily, barely able to think straight as he slowly slipped another finger inside you. He moved his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” He panted against your lips.

You bucked your hips up towards his hand in response, silently begging for more. He noticed and slipped a third finger in, moving them slowly at first as your tight pussy tried to adjust to the addition. Little whimpers left your lips as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. You felt so full, you can’t help but imagine him fucking you with his cock, you’re quite certain he’s massive. His pace eventually speeds up as you move your hips along with his movements. His lips moved back to kiss you, whining against his mouth. Your hands clutched the bed sheets as you moved along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him curl them and spreading them.

“That feels good doesn't it baby? You like it when I play with your little pussy? You like me fucking you with my fingers?" Joel moaned and his thumb connected with your clit, rubbing it at the same pace as he fucked you with his fingers. You bucked your hips and nodded as you moaned. "Use your words kitten," he taunts.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, please oh my god. Joel, please.” You writhed against the sheets as you whimpered. “Please keep calling me that.” You bit your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’re such a good kitty for me,” he said, a smug smirk playing on his face. You were impressed how easy it was for this man above you to turn you on and make a mess of you.

Joel leans his head back down, trapping your lips in yet another heated kiss. You felt your legs spread even more open for him as you felt yourself get close to your first orgasm of the night. His tongue slipped into your mouth after another gasp fell from your lips. You couldn’t help but moan, whine and whimper as he continued to pleasure you. Your hands wandered to the back of his head pulling at hair softly making him moan into your mouth.

“Fuck, I need you so bad.” He groaned as his thumb applied more pressure on your little nub. He curled his fingers forward with every penetration until your thighs shook.

“I need you more.” You whimpered as your body trembled underneath his.

His eyes stared into yours, lust and love written all over them. When he fastened his motions inside you, you moaned again and squeezed your eyes shut. A burning intense feeling, a tight coil in your lower abdomen made your back arch beneath him.

“Open your eyes for me, my baby.”

You opened your eyes slowly, looking straight into his eyes. His intense gaze was what it took for you to come undone. The hot feeling spread all over your body, your body tingled, your hips moving at their own accord against Joel’s hand.

“You’re doing so well for me angel,” He said proudly as his fingers slowed down, slipping out of you to rub your slit softly, still helping you ride out your orgasm.

As you came back to your senses, you felt his fingers slip away from your heat. You felt your pussy clench around nothing every now and then and were dripping down the sheets, which made you whimper helplessly. You needed him so bad. And now. Joel climbed off the bed, making quick work to remove all of his clothing. You were still in a daze, closing your eyes for a minute. Moments later you felt the bed dip.

You felt your legs being spread further apart with his strong hands. A loud broken moan left your lips at the feel of his mouth meeting your soaking wet pussy. He dove between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance before he travelled up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet muscle and sucking your button into his mouth.

You practically screamed at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed once again. You felt your body trembling terribly. You needed more. You tried to grind your wetness slowly against his lips as your body continued to shake.

Strong arms were suddenly locked around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.

“You taste so good, baby girl. I could eat this pussy all day.”

You felt heat overwhelm your senses more as you felt Joel chuckle against your heat. His tongue was lapping sloppily at your lower lips. Squeaky, senseless noises came out from your throat. You were squirming, it was so good you could barely even figure out what he was doing with his tongue.

“Fuck, Joel baby, oh my goooood” you cried out loud. You were certain that if people walked outside your house that they would have heard you by now. He sucked lazily at your clit while he moved to slip two fingers into you. Joel eventually sucked harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little bud while moving his fingers inside you a bit faster. You kept chanting his name between moans as you now hold onto his hair with both of your hands.

“Please, I’m so cloooooose.” You whined.

As Joel sucked your clit harder, you gasped loudly as you felt your whole body trembling even more and then you felt your body tense as you came against his mouth. Your whole mind felt like exploding and all you could see were stars. You felt truly overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body continued to tremble as you felt yourself come down from your high.

You felt Joel’s tongue still licking up your pussy as he retreats his fingers from your pulsing hole. His mouth felt heavenly, but you whined at the sensitivity. He moaned as he licked against your tight hole, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your entrance.

“T-too much.” You whimpered at the overstimulation.

Joel ignored your pleads, moaning against your heat as he continued to eat you out. The man you love so much that was between your legs kept sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises spur him on, to move his lips back up to your clit. He sucked the nub softly between his lips. You were grinding your hips against his face as moans kept spilling off your lips. This time he didn’t hold you back from fucking his face. Eventually he leaned down, slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curled the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraging him to do it again.

You were a mess of his name, you chanted his name over and over again. Your hips moved against his face as you continued to whimper and moan breathlessly underneath him. Writhing below him, you felt him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that had you seeing stars, while your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably. Defiance and greed consumes your thoughts, your fingers once again gripped onto his peppered hair rather harshly and hips pushed against his face to shove his tongue deeper into your hole.

“Ahhh Joeeeeel—” you drag out. You were really so close, you just needed one more little push.

“Come for me kitten,” he whispered against you, before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb came up to press against your little bundle of nerves. That does it, your dam broke down as you came against his mouth as your whole body wouldn’t stop trembling. You came with a loud whine, your hips stuttering as your vision turned white. You cry out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. Your fingers were tightly woven through Joel’s hair and your hips pushed so far against his face, you almost thought you were suffocating him.

“You’re always doing so good for me baby, I love you so much my sweetheart.” Joel whispered against you. As you slowly came down to reality again and you tried to catch your breath, you heard him praising you softly while he continued to lap at your wetness gently, until you whined because the overstimulation was getting too much for you. You Nudged your leg against his face as you tried to squirm away from him, Joel’s mouth finally detached from your heat.

He quickly licked the wetness off his lips and the places he could reach before he crawled up to you with a smile, to kiss you deeply, cupping your face in his hands. You moaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue, your eyes fluttering against his skin while you kiss, his wet beard against your face, your arms wrapped around him to pull his body closer against yours. You sighed, against his mouth, you felt yourself melt in his embrace already. You can feel his soft mouth smiling against yours, as the kiss gets more heated.

Soon your hands start to grip his body tighter against yours, your legs tangling together. It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other.

You couldn’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock. It turned slick as you kept grinding yourself against him, and he had no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh, fuck” Joel rasped, and it was because he reached down and grasped himself to line up between your lips and slide. He kept rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. He loved the sounds you made as he spread his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.

You gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You quickly realised by the way he felt while he rubbed against you that he was huge. You were still so wet, but the thought of him finally entering you with his big cock made you wetter. Joel swallowed your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against yours. He kissed you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You were trembling against him, filled with anticipation. His broad body covered your body with his. Loving how bigger and taller he was than you. You writhed against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and making you see white.

“Are you ready for me darlin’?” He whispered as he looked deep into your eyes. “Let me know if you want me to stop and I will.” He promised.

You bit your lip and nodded, too shy and excited to talk, as you rubbed your pussy against his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “I need you to use your words kitty.”

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, sweetheart?” He said before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reached down and grasped himself to line up between your lips and slide. He rubbed the tip firmly over your swollen clit then moved down to your wet tight hole and your mind was all over the place.

“P-please J-Joel…” you stuttered as your body trembled even more underneath him.

He rubbed himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer lips sliding his dick teasingly around your core. You arched your back slightly and whimpered loudly out of frustration.

The moment you want to beg him again he leaned down to line it up with your entrance. Your legs trembled underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. Joel slid the tip in so slowly it was agonising. Your lips part with a gasp. He was careful, like he was afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushed more of him inside you. You whined at the stretch of him. He was so big. You thought big was an understatement, he’s huge. Your tight pussy clenched around him as it tried to accommodate his massive girth. Joel continued to push more of his cock inside you. He leaned down to kiss your lips gently as he moved more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

His hips stilled once he heard you gasp loudly. “So full…”

“Do you think you can handle more?” He smiled tenderly as he looked down at you.

“T-t-there’s m-more?” You stammered with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly.

“Please,” You closed your eyes and whined as you nodded. You gripped the bed sheets between your fingers as you begged him for more.

“Good girl,” he groaned softly. You thought there wasn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he said those words you felt your heat get sopping wet. Your pussy continued to pulse and clench around his cock as he moved deeper inside you.

Once he bottomed out, you felt his tip kiss your cervix. Joel let his body rest against yours as he allowed you to adjust to his size. You felt so full, as if he was made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You felt one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reached up to your face.

His breathing was heavy as you squeezed his cock repeatedly. Small whimpers left your lips as you squirm underneath him.

You needed more.

You slowly opened your eyes to look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Joel.”

“My sweet girl needs me to move?” He asked teasingly, as he cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, please.” You begged as your pussy clenched around his thickness rather hard which made him moan. “I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He licked his lips before he nodded quietly and started moving slow and deep, one hand reached down to play with your clit, while the other held your hand tightly. The sting was hurting for a while, but it easily morphed into a more pleasurable feeling as he moved against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he was giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure.

He grunted as he dropped his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it.

“Such a tight pussy,” he groaned.

The angle was so good, but when his pace picked up he finally leaned down to wrap his arms around you, the action made you gasp and you grab at the sheets around you, to fuck you harder and faster.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Doing so so, good for me. Y-you’re so perfect.” He whispered as he nuzzled his face against your neck.

You whimpered as his lips moved back up to your lips, enveloping them in a passionate kiss. At a certain point you felt the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point in your core that has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure he was providing you. A loud noise like nothing you’ve ever made escaped your throat, a strange cry of his name.

“Feeling good sweetheart?” He grunted, a small smirk forming on his lips.

His mouth covered your own instead as he swallowed your mewls, you could feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulled tight, tight, tighter. His lips slid away from yours, wet and swollen and his breathing harsh as he tried to suck in air again, and everything was too much. It was just too much for you to handle.

He quickened his pace, his hips snapped up to yours to a fast tempo. “This pussy was made for this cock, isn’t it, baby girl?”

His hands couldn’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You moaned at the feeling of his speed, your fourth? orgasm of the night, coming so close. Your arms wrapped around him and your nails dig in his back making him groan. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “You look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, Christ I bet you’d look so pretty full of my cum too.”

“Please…” you moaned as you thought about him filling you up. “Please Joel, fill this pussy up.”

He groaned as he buried his face into your neck as he fucked into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.

“You want to cum sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically at his words with your eyes closed as you bit your lip harshly. He brought one of his hands down, rubbing your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’d cum.

“F-fuck fuuuck, Joel-Joel, oh my god. I’m going to—!”

“Cum for me, my pretty angel. Let yourself go. Cum all over me.” He moaned against your ear.

Your whole body trembled as you came with a loud cry, your body squirming underneath his as you held his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. That time around, the orgasm felt more intense than the others, you were feeling so overwhelmed by the pleasure. Joel groaned in your ear as your walls spasmed and pulsed around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.

“Fuck,“ he moaned, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Until it’s all full and messy?”

You nodded vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezed around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”

He groaned loudly, as he cummed inside you. The warmth of his seed filled you up and spread within your walls. You whimpered at the feel of his cum dripping out of you.

Once both of you caught your breaths, Joel leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.

“Please… stay.” You moaned softly.

“Of course baby,” he whispered before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Want you to stay inside.” You whimpered as your pussy clenched around him.

Joel groaned, wrapping his arms around you before rolling both of you onto your sides. “anythin’ for you, baby.”

“I love you Joel.” You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, enjoying his strong hold on you.

“I love you too sweetheart. You’re everythin’ to me.”

Both of you continued to caress each other’s bodies, whispering sweet nothings, kissing and holding each other until you both fell into a slumber.

Joel caught your heart, promising to hold onto it forever.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #tlou x reader #tlou x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #my writing #I’m aware that there are lots of grammatical errors and just me accidentally switching tenses #I’m just too tired to fix it all 😭

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aylacavebear · 4 months ago

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Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 6

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 3517

Warnings: Angst, some Fluff, Confrontation, Dean being a sweetheart.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6

You moved slowly as you unpacked the things Dean had packed and brought down there. He’d remembered so much more than your mind had even considered, like toiletries. It felt odd, being in this underground home built to not only hide you but keep you safe and taken care of.

The hours passed slowly for you. Dean had left you there around one-thirty. When your stomach began grumbling for nourishment around five, you dragged your feet as you explored the kitchen. It had a lot of non-perishables, like powdered milk, canned meat, vegetables, and fruits. There were potato flakes, too, along with a slew of other boxed items you didn’t feel like looking through.

Cereal it is.

This house was eerily quiet compared to the one above ground, and your mind took mental notes of it as you ate. You couldn’t hear any car or animal. Not even a cricket. Refrigerators typically have a hum, but this particular one didn’t, making the kitchen a vacuum of sound. Each bite of cereal you took seemed to echo in the silence, amplifying your solitude. I need some sound, any sound.

You ate quickly, the silence becoming unbearable. You needed some sort of noise to silence the silence that seemed to be getting too much on you. After you grabbed your phone charger from the bag in your room, you plugged it in, turned on your playlist, and sighed in relief when the first notes of Back in Black began playing, filling the void with a familiar comfort. The music, familiar and comforting, was a lifeline in the sea of silence, easing your unease and loneliness.

It would still be a bit before Dean was due back, so you headed to the room with the computers, wanting to see if anyone had been there while you had been gone earlier. Plus, it’d give you something to do. Earlier in the day, you’d put both keys on a necklace chain and wore it under your shirt; plus, it made it easier not to lose them.

Settling into the chair in front of the monitors, you clicked around on different things, finally finding the saved recordings. You found it interesting how the live feed was up on the other three monitors while you fiddled around on the fourth, looking through the saved files.

Luckily, there was nothing there that you had to worry about. It was either you or an animal of some kind outside that had tripped the motion sensor to record its movement. That was when you came across the one where Dean had spent the night, and furrowed your brow, confused as you watched him in the recording.

Your classic rock playlist continued to play in the background as you watched him. He stayed on the couch for a while, laying there, but in a way so he could easily look toward the top of the stairs. An hour or so later, he got up and paced a little before heading up the stairs. Different cameras picked him up, so you played the recordings with his movements. He stood in your doorway, which you left open.

The camera that was in your room picked up the front of him. He brought his right hand up to the front of his left shoulder, rubbing it slightly. You weren’t entirely sure why he would do that, unless perhaps he was sore from work, even though it had been an easy day.

You could see that he was mouthing words, but the camera didn’t pick up sound, sadly. He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder on the doorframe, just watching you, for at least an hour. Dean never went into your room, though. He walked through the house, checking the doors and windows, then stood in your doorway again.

Why would he do that? Does he know something else that I don’t? Maybe he was just worried about me.

When you realized, through the recordings, that he had only gotten four hours of sleep that night, you were determined to make sure he got decent sleep tonight. Then you sighed, as he hadn’t said he’d stay with you.

If he does stay, he can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.

Glancing down at your phone, you sighed again, knowing he wouldn’t be back for at least another half hour. One recording did catch your eye, though. It was one while Dean was sleeping, and it had several linked recordings from other cameras.

At first, you didn’t see anything as to why the camera would activate, even after you replayed it half a dozen times. On that next play-through, though, you felt sick as the chill of goosebumps ran down your body out of fear.

There was a silhouette of a man outside the window of the living room where Dean was sleeping. You watched all the connected videos, and they had caught not only the man’s appearance, but also the vehicle he had driven there in, with the license plate number.

You were going to take down the information and give it to Jodi, but you had no way of getting it to her without using your phone or leaving the safety of this home-like bunker. Just as you leaned back in the seat, several of the outside cameras got a red line around them, signifying motion. It was a car you didn’t recognize, but Dean got out of the passenger seat, with a bag in his hand. You got closer to the screen, squinting a little, noticing it looked like an overnight bag. You smiled, relieved you wouldn’t be alone, but also that it was Dean who had showed up and not some stranger.

The car that had dropped him off drove away shortly after, which relieved you. You watched him move through the house, locking doors behind him. When he reached the secret door, he looked over his shoulder, then did the secret knock he’d come up with earlier. You excitedly ran to the main door, popped it open, and then ran up the stairs, opening that door as well, still smiling.

“You made it,” you began, but he put his finger to his lips, meaning for you to keep quiet, so you nodded and went back down the stairs. Dean followed you after he closed the door.

Is he worried someone is listening? Did someone follow him? Did he see something while he was outside that the cameras didn’t? Did someone tell him something?

You had so many questions but were keeping quiet until the two of you were inside the bunker. Once he tossed his bag on the floor near the couch, you practically tackled him in a hug.

“It’s so quiet here,” you told him, doing your best not to cry, again.

Deam was surprised, but he smiled softly and wrapped his arms around you, “Hope it’s okay if I spend the night. Might not be so quiet then.”

You pulled back and looked up at him curiously, with your arms still around the back of his neck, even if you did have to stand on your tiptoes to do so. “You’d really stay down here with me in the silent underground solitude?” you asked, puzzled.

The laughter that erupted from deep in his chest made you have to let go and take a step back. You weren’t entirely sure why he had found your question so amusing, but hearing him laugh like that made you smile.

It took Dean a few moments to catch his breath, which almost made you start laughing, “Sweetheart, you’ve got your own secret hideout. Why wouldn’t I want to hang out here with you? It’s like having your very own personal Bat-Cave, like Batman.”

At least now you understood why he had found your statement so funny. And the more you thought about what he said, you laughed hard at it. “Thanks. I really needed that,” you finally told him, now smiling and far more relaxed than you had been all day.

“Now, did you eat?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, around five. Oh, and tonight, you’re sleeping on the bed. I saw you stayed up last night and watched over me. There’s no need to do that down here. So, I’m going to make sure you’re comfortable and actually sleep tonight,” you told him, crossing your arms.

He tried not to laugh, and it came out as a quiet chuckle, “Sweetheart, you sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch. No need to go to any extremes.”

You rolled your eyes, “Only if you answer a couple questions,” you told him, raising an eyebrow.

“What questions?” he asked, looking mildly curious but also almost worried.

“Why did you rub your shoulder last night? We had an easy day at the garage,” you asked cautiously. You knew there was a possibility that whatever it was could be personal.

He sighed before he sat down on the couch. Well, more like plopped down, so you sat on the far side, near the arm. “It’s my soulmate’s name. That’s all,” he answered quietly without looking at you.

Now you felt really bad. You knew that was a touchy subject for him. Much like you, but in almost opposite ways. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that personal. You can have the couch,” you replied quietly.

“It’s just a sore subject, for both of us,” he replied, motioning to the two of you. “If you want to talk about it, we can, but that means we both share stuff. Keep it fair. If you don’t want to, we can talk about other stuff.”

That was when you remembered the man from the night before, on the recording, “Maybe another time. There’s something I need to show you,” you told him, somewhat worried at how he’d react.

Dean followed you into the room, puzzled but silent. He watched the recordings from behind you, but you would glance up from time to time. You could tell that he was very clearly upset and angry. It was worse than when he was around Cole earlier. Dean’s jaw was clenched, his arms crossed over his chest, and he looked beyond pissed. You were sure you saw fire behind those emerald green eyes of his as he glared at the monitor.

“Azazel,” he said in a low, almost inaudible growl.

You turned back to the monitor, remembering the name from your parents' letters. Now, you had a face you could put to a name.

That night, Dean pulled out two phones and explained they were burner phones so you could still communicate with the outside world. He also handed you a piece of paper with several people’s numbers. You recognized all the names but not the numbers. So, he explained that everyone had burner phones now so that you could talk to them, as could Dean.

You wanted to ask him how he knew to do something like this, but at the same time, you weren’t sure you really wanted the answer. You just nodded in understanding while he explained it. Then he helped you get a pillow and blanket for him to use on the couch for the night.

Once that was set up, he slipped off his shoes near the door, then sat down on the side of the couch where his pillow was. You chose to sit on the coffee table again, not wanting to invade what was now his bed.

The awkward silence hung between the two of you, but Dean looked more confused than awkward. You just weren’t sure what to say or ask. Sure, you had plenty of questions, but you already felt bad that he got dragged into this huge mess surrounding you and your past. “What’s wrong?” Dean finally asked with a sigh, noticing how you wouldn’t look at him.

“A lot,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. “I feel bad. You got dragged into my mess.”

Dean sighed again, then held his arms open, “Come here.”

You looked up at him, slightly puzzled, but he motioned with his fingers for you to go to him. Biting your lip nervously, you finally, but reluctantly, got up and moved over to the couch next to him. Dean pulled you against him, gently holding you close.

“You didn’t drag me into this, Sweetheart. There’s still a lot you don’t know and right now really isn’t the time to go into all those details. I can tell you’re overwhelmed. What can I do to help you relax?” his words were soft, and you found yourself calming the more he spoke.

“I’m just scared, and this place was so quiet when you were gone, and so… lonely…” you admitted quickly.

He took a shaky breath, “Hopefully, it won’t be lonely while I’m here. Still didn’t answer my question, though,” he chuckled at the end, a bit playfully.

For a bit, you thought about his question and couldn’t help the light blush that crept into your cheeks, “This is helping,” you mumbled shyly.

With where your head was on his chest, as well as your hand, you felt his heart rate increase a little and found it odd. You again reminded yourself that he had a soulmate, and it was nothing more than him, perhaps being nervous about your reply. So, you mumbled an apology.

“I wish you’d stop apologizing already. If it bothered me, I’d tell you. I like spending time with you, and no one should have to go through something like this alone,” he told you, and you pouted.

You opened your mouth, about to apologize again, then closed it. His wish had effectively stopped you from being able to respond at the moment as your brain attempted to think of what else to say. You began absentmindedly playing with a tiny crease in his shirt and didn’t notice how his breathing got a little heavier as you continued to contemplate a response.

“So, um, you want me to just let you get some sleep then?” you finally asked, not sure of another topic to broach at the moment.

“Or, we could have a drink, and you can relax so you can sleep,” he suggested a little playfully.

Leave it to your best friend to think of you like he always seemed to do since the two of you had gotten to know each other. There were days, like today, that it felt like so much longer than roughly two months. Then there was how you felt around him, especially within just the last day. He gave a sense of safety and comfort you had only ever gotten from the adults in your life, up until him.

“I guess so,” you mumbled, lost in your thoughts again, trying not to let your mind drift past him only being your best friend.

“You’re so stubborn,” he chuckled in amusement before shifting, causing you to move so he could get up.

You glared playfully at him as he went to the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the fridge. He popped the tops, smirking in that playful way as he made his way back to the couch. You shifted a little, making room again so he could return to his seat.

“Thanks,” you told him, taking the beer he handed you before sitting down again. “I’m not always stubborn.”

Dean chuckled, seeing the way your lips frowned into a pout, “You know, you’re adorable when you pout like that.” He shifted a bit so that he was turned more to face you, his arm over the back of the couch with his leg bent at his knee on the cushion. So, you did the same but kept your hands in your lap, one of them holding your beer.

“I know it’s a touchy subject, but… When you do find your soulmate, I don’t mind telling her what an amazing guy you are. And… I’ll understand that we won’t spend as much time together,” you told him with a soft smile. The strange part was that you almost felt a sense of heartbreak after those words left your lips, but you hid it well.

The smirk he had turned into a soft smile, “Only as long as I get to do the same for you.”

“Fair,” you replied, managing to give him at least a small smile. “How long are you staying for?”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Dean began, then trailed off, looking away from you, debating how to answer you. “Someone followed me, at least to your driveway, but they drove past. I uh, we’re sort of stuck down here, together.” He finished, sounding nervous and apprehensive again.

At first, you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about that. It would, of course, be nice not to be alone, but you had figured Dean would have the freedom to come and go as he wanted. You wanted to apologize but remembered he wanted you to stop doing that, so you didn’t. You knew there was plenty of food, even if most of it was things you weren’t used to eating. At least neither of you would go hungry.

You stared off toward the floor as you sipped your beer, thinking about the predicament that both of you were in. Books and lots of movies, even if they were on VHS, could occupy at least some of the time there. Showering would be simple enough; you figured the two of you would just take turns. What about maybe needing alone time? Does Dean need someplace more private than the living room? He already said that the bedroom was mine and he wasn’t going to sleep there and have me on the couch. Maybe we could hang sheets so he had a more secluded spot. We could even rearrange if he wanted to.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you about being down here with you,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts.

That was when you realized you hadn’t even commented on what he’d said. “No, no, no. It’s nothing like that. I was lost in my thoughts,” you quickly replied apologetically, meeting his gaze.

Why does he have to look at me like that? Almost like… No, he has a soulmate. He’s not thinking about me. He’s thinking about her. Now stop it, brain.

“Care to share, Sweetheart?” he asked with that smirk of his that always made you smile.

“Just, stuff, that’s all,” you replied, a little shyly, looking away from him. “I’ve never lived with anyone before, not like this anyway.”

Somehow, you managed to explain to him the things you’d been thinking about but focused more on making a more private space for him in the living room. He at least seemed to like the idea or perhaps it was appreciation that you thought of him like that. You weren’t quite sure.

“We can do that tomorrow if you’d like,” he suggested when you finally stopped babbling about the thoughts that had been in your head. At least he didn’t seem upset with you, which was a relief. “Why don’t you go get some sleep, though? It’s late.”

“Only if you promise that you’ll sleep and not stay up all night watching over me,” you replied, crossing your arms and attempting to look serious.

That, of course, only made him chuckle, “You’re adorable when you act like that. I promise I’ll get some sleep, just not gonna promise on how much.”

You playfully smacked his shoulder before cleaning up the two empty beer bottles. For a moment, you stood in the kitchen near the trash, not wanting to feel what you were feeling. Quickly brushing it aside, you went back out, standing near the hallway.

“Then, I’ll see you in the morning,” you told him, giving him a half smile.

“Night, Sweetheart,” he replied, and you turned from him to your room.

He has a soulmate, you repeated in your mind as you got ready for bed, then slipped under the covers. You didn’t want to feel anything more than friendship toward him, but it was getting difficult. The chain with the keys was still around your neck, but you had left the door open in your closet to the security room. It was for Dean, in case he had wanted to go in there. You thought perhaps it might help him relax, knowing he could watch what was going on outside the bunker, or Batcave, as he had called it.

Your thoughts were still on him as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep. The way you felt in his arms and how easy it was to talk to him. The idea of living with him made you happier than you wanted to admit, to anyone, but more to yourself.

The last thought on your mind before sleep overtook you was you and Dean, lying in your bed, and he was holding you close. A happy smile even crossed your lips lazily just as the blackness took you for the night.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7

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smoooothoperator · 7 months ago

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untouchable

21: Dear Reader

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle, life as lovers

Words: 2.7k

a/n: so this is the end! There will be an epilogue and if course extra chapters, you can ask whatever you want to know about Violet and Lando. I'm so so so happy I came with the idea of this story and I feel proud of how it went, of the welcome of you guys, and as well as how the little idea of a ski trip turned into this! Thank you so so much to everyone that supported, I owe you the world❤️

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Every way of feedback is very welcomed

If you ask someone how it feels being unconscious, they will probably answer you that it feels like a nightmare, a deep dream that no matter how hard you try you won't wake up. You can hear everyone's voices like an echo in your mind, mixed with the beeping of the monitors

My mind repeated all the time the last thing I saw before passing out, a bright pair of white lights coming closer to me. I was in an eternal nightmare, hearing his voice begging me to open my eyes. But I couldn't do it.

But I always felt his hand on mine, his lips on my knuckles, how he brushed my hair with his fingers. That was the only thing that kept me at ease, that made me feel I wasn't alone.

But the day when I woke up, when I could finally do what he asked, moving my finger, he wasn't there.

When I opened my eyes, I didn't find his blue ones. I found a curly hair next to me, but it wasn't his.

“Lando” I mumbled as well as I could, feeling how sore and dry my throat was.

“Oh, God”

Pietra and Max got up looking at me, watching how I looked around confused.

“Lando? Where…”

He left? He really left me?

“He had to leave” Max said, grabbing a bottle of water and putting a straw on it, helping me drink it. “He will come soon, okay? Don't worry”

I sipped the water, thirstier than I thought I was. But still, there were so many questions around my mind right now.

“Where am I?” I whisper. “I… What happened?”

Pietra and Max took a deep breath looking at each other. They told me everything, from the moment I got out of my apartment to go pick up the moment Lando received the call while he was streaming, they told me about them going to the hospital and Lando nearly screaming at the receptionist and how relieved they were when the doctor told them about the surgery.

“He never left” Pietra smiled weakly. “We had to force him to eat something, sending him reminders about his lunch and dinner”

“But… What about his training?” I mumbled confused.

“He will ask for a pair of weeks more” Max sighed. “Pato will drive for him in the first race after the break, just to make sure that you recover”

“But…”

“He won't leave you alone, Violet”

I took a deep breath and smiled weakly, closing my eyes for some seconds until the door opened.

When he walked in I barely recognized him. His curls were barely done, messy and falling on his eyes. He let his facial hair grow a little. His eyes weren't shining as always, and the bags under his eyes were there too.

When I said his name I could see the shock in his eyes, as well as fear and regret.

“You are awake” he mumbled, walking towards my bed, swallowing thickly.

“Mhm” I nodded, looking at him, reaching for his hand.

“And I wasn't here”

I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. Something in them is not there anymore, I can see a shadow that is making his smile not reach to his blue eyes.

“But you are here now” I whisper, holding his hand with my hands. “That's everything that matters”

I saw Pietra and Max getting up, walking out of the room and leaving us alone.

I saw Lando's bottom lip trembling, making him trap it between his teeth. His eyes were getting wetter while he pressed his forehead against mine.

“He did it, Vi… Harry did this” he whispered.

Something inside of me knew it. Something really deep inside of me knew that he was the reason for the crash.

Lando sat on the bed next to me, grabbing his phone and showing me the recording, holding my hand while we listened to it.

“I don't want to see him ever again” I whispered, feeling a knot in my throat when I heard the moment he jumped from the chairs ready to attack Lando.

“He will go to jail” Lando sighed.

“Good” I nodded. “He deserves to rot in there”

I recovered slower than I would like to admit. Getting up from bed was a torture, sitting on the couch was a relief that only lasted a few seconds before realizing I had to get up from it later. The walls and the ceiling of the bedroom started to get boring.

Silence fell between us, with his hands holding mine as we took deep breaths, trying to assimilate everything.

“I really need to go out…” I groaned.

Lando stayed with me all the time. Even if he still had a week more of his summer break, he decided to ask for two more weeks to take care of me.

“You know you can't… Remember what the doctor said” he sighed, bringing the food to the table of the living room.

“I know, but I'm just getting tired of these walls” I sighed.

He smiled, standing behind my chair and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, reading what I was doing on my laptop.

“Just wait a few days, okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of my head. “And while you recover, we can look for houses, hm? I chose some that maybe you'll like”

The torturous and slow way I recovered was agonizing. The visits to the doctor were too many to count them with my hands: exams of my head, exams of my broken bones, talks with the psychiatrist.

“Can we visit them once I have the cast out of my leg?” I asked him, taking a deep breath after watching the pictures of the houses he found.

“Of course” he nodded.

I took a deep breath and looked around. Lando told me that while I was unconscious his parents came to stay here, to keep the apartment clean and to be closer to the hospital.

“What will happen with Harry?” I dared to ask, leaning on his chest. “Like… He's obviously a psychopath, or something in that style. Will he go to jail? Or somewhere where they control people like that?”

I felt Lando sigh and rest his chin on top of my head. I could hear his mind working, trying to find the right words of what he wanted to say.

“I just… I hope he gets the punishment he deserves to have” he said, and I could find a little bit of disappointment in his voice. “He hurt you, and I won't forgive him for doing that. Years ago I accepted that the friendship I had with him was gone, that he only wanted to be around for my money and fame. But now… What he did is unforgivable, Violet”

“I know” I whisper, swallowing the lump of my throat. “I know… I think I'll never forgive him either…”

He held me tight, like he was scared of letting me go. The last few days were hard, he always wanted to be around me, and I could feel how he woke up in the middle of the night to hold me tighter. And something inside of me broke knowing why he did that. While I was unconscious I could hear him cry. He did that when he was alone, when none of his family or friends were around. I could feel him holding my hand tight, pressing it against his lips while he let go the tears, when he talked about his fear of losing me.

How could I be so stupid? I made him promise me that he will always come back after a race, that he won't have a crash. And he made that promise, he came back after every race. And it was me who never came back, who got into a crash.

“I'm just glad that he's not around ever again” I sighed. “That we can love our lives without worrying what would be his next move”

He nodded in silence, sitting on the chair next to mine and eating the food on his plate without saying a word about it. I sighed, reaching for his hand and squeezing it softly, smiling weakly.

“We are free, Lando” I smiled weakly. “No more fear, no more looking out the window in case we are stalked…”

“You knew?” he frowned. He kept that in secret, hiding the pictures Harry sent on his backpack.

“I found the pictures some day when I was getting your backpack ready…” I sighed. “I guess you hid them to not scare me, so I just didn't say anything…”

“He is so sick, Violet” he sighed, clenching his jaw. “He knew exactly where the window of your room was. He took pictures of us in bed! Of you naked! Of us having sex. And he threatened me to sell them”

“But he didn't” I said. “Those were only threats…”

I took a deep breath and looked at him, watching how he was taking deep breaths while he closed his eyes.

“That's why you always look out the window before going to bed?” I sighed.

“Yeah” he sighed. “I mean, at first I only thought it was a sick stalker. But then I started to think and then things made sense… I guess I always knew Harry was the one behind those threats…”

“He did everything to scare you and pull you away from me” I sighed.

“You heard his confession…” he said. “He did the same with your exes”

The fact that he was there when I was nearly abused. That he watched from afar how I was touched without permission and he only stared to find a moment to be the hero.

Boxes were the only thing I could see.

“He's sick” I said, pushing the plate away, not wanting to eat anymore, feeling nauseous.

“Where should we put the plants? I don't want to kill them”

Boxes, bags and suitcases.

Boxes everywhere.

Lando came into the office with an empty box, leaving it on the floor. He placed his hands on his hips, looking at me with a frown, then at the plants.

“Internet says that you can put them on a box and make holes on it so they can have air” Lando frowned. “I mean… What we can do is take them first to the house? Put them in the back of the car and then leave there while we come back for the rest of things”

I look at him and then at the plants. There are four plants in my office, six in the bedroom, three in the bathroom and eight in the living room.

“Will they fit?” I asked. “In my car?”

“Yeah” he nodded, biting the nail of his thumb.

“In an Audi A1?” I laughed.

He looked at me and took a deep breath before walking out of the office, coming back after a few seconds with a smile.

“I'll owe Max money…” he sighed.

“It's not my problem you two made a bet about us not needing help” I said, raising up my arms.

Moving out was finally happening.

I recovered right in time for the second race of the second half of the season. Time passed really fast and in between his races we started looking for houses, making time pass even faster.

Packing all the things in my apartment was another story. Taking all my things and putting them in boxes, bags and suitcases was funny, but I hated the fact that Lando made a bet with Max.

“He will be a pain in the ass” he sighed, walking slower towards me and wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder.

“Not my problem” I laughed softly. “Come on, we need a bigger car and he has one”

“We can always rent a car…”

“Lando”

“Okay, okay” he sighed, grabbing his phone and calling his friend.

The new house was completely empty when we bought it and it was exciting for us because we could decorate it how we wanted.

“Are we sleeping there tonight?” I smiled excitedly, biting my lip. “The mattress arrives this afternoon”

“Sure, why not?” he smiled.

When Max came, he was already smirking once he crossed the front door. I watched them, how Lando rolled his eyes and Max extended his hand with the keys of his car in exchange of a bill.

“I didn't want to say it, but…” Max smirked, looking at me and then at Lando. “Told ya”

“Whatever!” Lando exclaimed, making us laugh. “But thank you”

“You can use my car, okay?” I said, getting up and grabbing the keys of my car. “Maybe we will use it for the weekend, to take the suitcases and boxes”

“Okay” he smiled, and looked at us. “I'm so proud of you two, really”

“Stop it, you are going to make me cry” Lando laughed.

Max chuckled and hugged us before grabbing the keys of my car. He stayed here to help us put the plants in his car, just to be faster.

“We'll call you once the house is finally done” I said smiling. “So we can make a welcome home dinner”

“I like how it sounds” he nodded. “When is the furniture coming?”

“Tomorrow” Lando said, standing next to me after closing the door of the backseats once he put the last plant inside of the car. “Tomorrow is the living room and couch. This afternoon the mattress is coming”

“Let me guess, you will stay there tonight?” Max laughed.

“Oh yeah” he smirked looking at me, making me blush and look away.

“Forget it, I don't want to know what you two do there” Max exclaimed, making us laugh. “If you need help, Pietra and I can come tomorrow to help you build the furniture”

“Oh sure” I smiled. “No bets this time, please”

“Yes, ma’am” both of them sighed.

I smile and hug Max before getting in the car, biting my lip. The keys of the new house were in my bag, and I couldn't help but feel excited as we were getting closer.

“Are you excited?” he asked me, placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing it softly.

“You have no idea” I smiled.

It was only a turn more to the left and we're just in front of our house. Our house, our place. Home.

He parked the car in front of the gate and I grabbed the keys, pressing the control remote key and filing when the gate opened in front of us. He drove inside and stopped the car in front of the main door.

“I can't believe we're finally doing it” I said, getting out of the car and looking at the house.

I turned around and looked at him, walking towards me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I did the same, wrapping it around his waist and leaning on him.

“Do you want to get it?” he smiled, pressing a kiss on my temple.

I smiled and nodded, grabbing the keys and walking towards the door, unlocking it and opening it. But then I felt his arms around my back and behind my knees, picking me up and making me giggle.

“Lando!” I gasped, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

“It's our first time walking in, we have to do it this way” he smirked, walking inside of the house.

He placed me back on the floor and I smiled looking around. The empty hall welcomed us, but it was perfect. This place is perfect.

“Well?” he smiled, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

“It's perfect” I smiled. “I can't wait to have the mattress”

“Oh, I don't think that can stop us! There is a kitchen aisle, a bathroom… plenty of places to have sex” he smirked.

“Yeah? I want to see the kitchen, just to make a better look at it, what do you think?” I smirk, walking away from him and looking over my shoulder, smiling when I saw him walk towards me while he unbuttoned his jeans and took off his hoodie.

This place is home. He is my home. And I can't wait to build a future with him, to see kids running around the living room, to hear our laughs.

This is finally our time to be happy.

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syddsatyrn · 9 months ago

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Je t'aime Violet

By Sydd Satyrn Chapter 1 ⛧ Chapter 2 ⛧ Chapter 3 Masterlist

⛧Pairing: - Alastor x OC!Reader Violet

⛧Warnings: Drinking, smoking, swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, eventually smut, adult themes, 18+ not for minors

⛧Words: 1.8k ⛧Fic playlist: Click here!

⛧Summary: Hello ladies, gentleman and nonbinary friends! I present to you, my series Je t'aime Violet. This story is staring my OC, Violet! She is a deer demon containing a lot of personality. With a gifted voice and a bit of jazz, she's got style and class on lock. After 7 years, Violet and Alastor's feelings towards each other never dissolved. Violet reconnects with the man who left with her heart, will she forgive him? Does Alastor have the ability to set his pride aside for love?

⛧Notes: @hellfiremunsonn is a total babe for being my beta reader.

⛧Chapter 1: Rye Whiskey The door slams shut behind you and you let out a sigh of relief, another show is finally over. After taking a seat in front of your vanity, you turn on the small television in your dressing room. You’ve been on tour for the past year and a half, playing at different venues, private events, and more. Today was the final show and you gave it all you had, the crowd seemed pleased. Even though you almost collapsed at the end of the performance, everything worked out in your favor. It's getting late so you pour yourself a glass of whiskey and take a sip. Being a Jazz singer isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure the fame and free drinks are nice, but the men are pigs. Just because you dance around in skimpy clothes and sing love songs doesn't mean you’re going to go home with whoever flashes a stack of cash your way. Suddenly a familiar voice shakes you from your thoughts. An odd commercial plays on the TV and you almost spit out your drink. Your soft ears perk up and twitch and your tail flicks from side to side. “Do you like blood, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course, you do! That's why you’re in hell! But what would you say if I told you there was a place to stay that had none of that? Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar. Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you! Here we offer fun things such as…Somewhat functional staff and 24-hour pest control! Custom rooms and just look at this parlor! Enjoy a Riveting conversation with our singular resident! Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel! Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!” That voice is unmistakable, but part of you can’t believe it’s true. Has Alastor really come back? Is he staying at this strange hotel? So many unanswered questions. You had a history with the infamous Radio Demon. A past you thought would never see the light of day. It was long before you found your passion for music, in a time when you thought nothing would make you happy.

Alastor used to be your beau once upon a time. You both used to be so undoubtedly in love with each other. He used to sweep you off your feet and make you feel like the most beautiful thing in all of Hell. But that was a long time ago, and Alastor might not be the same guy you used to know, seven years is enough time to change a person. He was the one who broke it off, stating that he had some business to deal with. He was vague and aloof, he said he couldn’t stick around and keep you, that it would be unfair of him to make you wait. You told him it didn't matter to you, that you would wait for his return. He told you that he might not return at all, kissed your hand, and left you there in the rain.

You finished off the last of your drink, there was no way you could stay in the dressing room tonight. If there was even the slightest chance that you could see Alastor again you had to go. So you changed out of your stage clothes into a black dress, one that hugs your curves rather nicely. You put on a pair of knee high boots and your black lapel. After deciding to keep the pearl necklace and earrings on, you check your makeup in the mirror and grab your duffle bag before leaving your dressing room. The streets of Pentagram City were alive with debauchery and sin. Sinners were partying, gambling, and fucking their cares away. With a lit cigarette between your lips you walk for a while, heels clacking against the sidewalk. Your eyes scan the billboards, hoping to find any sign of the hotel. A few ads pop up for a porn studio where your dear friend works. She used to sing with you until she decided to get into the adult entertainment business. You don’t mind, as long as she's happy, then so are you.

Your train of thought is derailed when the image changes on the billboard. It now shows the Hazbin Hotel with a very familiar face standing outside, holding a sign and smiling brightly. Your eyes widen and you feel a tightening sensation in your chest, that smile. You had seen it countless times in the past, that charming, dashing smile.

The billboard changes once again and a phone number flashes on the screen. You reach into your pocket and grab your cell phone. Dialing the number, you take a drag from your cigarette and hold the phone to your ear. After a few rings, a woman picks up and greets you. “Hello! Hazbin Hotel, How can I help you?” She is so cheerful it's almost disgusting. “Hi there. I was wondering if you had rooms available?” There's a short pause and some shuffling on the other line, the woman speaks again. "Oh my goodness! Yes, we have plenty of rooms available!"

You take another drag from your cigarette and speak again, "Can I check-in tonight? I'm actually in the city and-"

"Oh my, yes of course! Let me get you the address.”

"Great, thank you." You reply. The cheerful woman gives you the address and you end the call. You take one last puff off your cigarette and stomp it out. With the location committed to memory, you make your way to the hotel.

The hotel is quite large, standing out against the dim and drab streets. A smile spreads across your face and you walk up the steps. The moment you open the door a small woman dressed in a maids uniform greets you.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I'm Nifty! And you must be a new guest!" She looks a bit disheveled and her eyes are wide. “Hello there Nifty,” You bend down and get on her level and smile at her. “My name is Violet. It's a pleasure to meet you, dear.” She squeals and grabs your hand, practically dragging you inside. Nifty points to the bar and introduces Husker the bartender as a “grumpy kitty”. You nod your head in agreement and follow her through the lobby. You walk up to the bar and give Husker a big smile. He grunts at you but returns your smile nonetheless. Nifty pulls out a stool and you set your bag down and take a seat. “I’m going to go find Charlie for you, I’ll be right back!” Nifty exclaims as she runs off towards the elevator. You watch as the elevator doors close behind her. “What'll it be, Miss?” Husker asks in a gruff voice. He notices you have the same kind of features as Alastor, fluffy deer ears, a tail, and a toothy grin. “Rye whiskey, on the rocks if you have it.” You ask and Husker turns around to make it for you. Oddly enough you drink the same kind of Liquor as Alastor too. Just as Husker slides the drink over to you, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor catches your attention. You glance up and there she is—Charlie. The woman who now owns and runs this peculiar establishment. Her smile is warm and welcoming as she approaches you, her red curls bouncing with every step. “Violet, I presume?” she says, extending a hand towards you. You take it, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That's me,” you reply with a soft smile. “It's quite a place you have here.” Charlie's eyes twinkle with pride as she looks around the bustling lobby. “Thank you! We do our best to make everyone feel welcome and offer a chance at redemption.” You can't help but admire her determination and genuine desire to help others. “You mentioned having a room available?” You ask and take a sip of your drink. “Oh yes! Here, take this.” She says and hands you a key. “You’re on the third floor, room 103. We can talk more tomorrow, it's getting late and I’m sure you would like to turn in for the night.” You thank Charlie, Nifty and Husk before making your way to the elevator. The ride up to the third floor is smooth, and as the doors open, you're greeted by a quiet hallway lined with ornate wallpaper and dimly lit lamps. Room 103 is at the end of the hallway, and you feel a mix of nerves and excitement as you approach the door. The key slides in easily, and with a click, the door opens to reveal a cozy room with a large bed, plush armchair, and a window overlooking the city below. Dropping your coat and duffle bag on a nearby chair, you take in the room's atmosphere before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

The events of the evening whirl through your mind - Alastor's unexpected return, the allure of the Hazbin Hotel, and now being here in this room that feels both familiar and new. But for now, all you can think about is going to bed. You put on a pair of small black shorts and a large t-shirt. After you hit the lights and crawl under the covers, it doesn't take long for you to drift off to sleep.

While you sleep, a shadow appears in the room, a silhouette of a man with a sinister smile spreading across his face. The shadow moves closer to the bed, the figure illuminated by the dim moon light filtering in from the window. A shiver runs down your spine as you sense a presence in the room, causing you to slowly awaken from your slumber. Your eyes flutter open and the shadow flees, you only catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye. You look around the room and you feel like someone is watching you, but there is no one here but you. You let out a sigh and try to go back to sleep, you must be seeing things.

As you try to shake off the eerie feeling, you hear a faint whisper in the darkness. Your heart races as you strain to make out the words being murmured. "Violet..." The voice is deep and sends a chill down your spine. You sit up in bed, your eyes wide with fear. "Who's there?" you manage to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. There is no response, only the sound of your own ragged breathing filling the room. The voice sounded just like an old radio, you know he is calling you. But you’re not going to chase him, if he wants to talk to you, he knows exactly where to find you. So with that, you roll over and try your best to go back to sleep, despite the fact that you are being watched.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #eddie munson x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin #alastor radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor smut

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 years ago

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Arcana Brainrot: Blog Rules, Masterlists, Playlist, & Requests Guidelines

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Current MC ask game

BLOG RULES:

My inbox is always open for anybody to share their thoughts or ideas! This blog is largely archival now, though, so prompts will likely not get written.

I don't think it needs to be said but hate isn't welcome here. Of any kind.

Please also keep in mind that this blog is PG-13, so whatever comments you make on it will likely be seen by minors. I take their safety seriously, so if there's anything grossly X rated in the comments (I don't see why there should be) I will delete it. If you continue to comment things like that you will be blocked :)

With my older brother rant out of the way, please enjoy the results of me trying to cope with a truly Vesuvian obsession :D

MASTERLISTS: oldest to newest, I'll do my best to update as I post.

All quotes for Arcana characters sent in have this tag: #arcana brainrot quote collection

Because of the link limit for posts, you can find the masterlist for all full headcanons below:

The Arcana HCs : Brainrot's Masterlist

The Arcana HCs : Brainrot's Masterlist, Pt 2

And here is the masterlist for all my mini-prompts, answered ask arcana style:

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot's Masterlist

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot’s Masterlist, Pt 2

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot's Masterlist, Pt 3

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot's Masterlist, Pt 4

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot's Masterlist, Pt 5

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Brainrot's Masterlist, Pt 6

A masterlist for drabbles, with an explanation at the top for how they work!

The Arcana Drabbles: Explanation and Masterlist

All the recipes posted by the originals devs from the Arcana universe, with pictures of my own creation attempts and descriptions of how it went!

The Arcana Food

Worldbuilding/character analysis essays ^.^ (not a comprehensive list atm, unfortunately)

The Arcana Essays: Brainrot's Masterlist

Finally got around to fleshing out my self-insert enough to make him a proper MC/ OC!

Bainrot's self-insert MC (Drue)

Vesuviella: my first fanfic. don't get your hopes up (updated sporadically)

Summary: Julian decided to write his own version of Cinderella to be performed in the Community Theatre, and then recruited MC to help him cast the rest of the M6 in the leading roles. Chaos ensues. (There is no determined love interest, MC is friends with the M6 and M6 are all thirsty for MC.)

Vesuviella: All Parts

Arcana Brainrot Playlist: a compilation of all character song suggestions in one Spotify playlist, kept up to date!

Arcana Brainrot Playlist (Spotify)

Arcana Brainrot Playlist (YouTube)

REQUEST GUIDELINES - NO LONGER TAKING REQUESTS

Generally, I pick from what's in my asks and write what sparks inspiration. If there's an idea you'd really like to see written, you're welcome to message me directly about it! ^.^

I don't write about toxic/abusive relationships or dynamics between MC and the M6 (I get the appeal, I'm not judging, but it's not for me)

I don't write for M6 x M6 ships - side character ships are on the table, though!

All of my work is PG-13. (yes to romantic/sensual themes and references to painful experiences, no to explicit matter or glorified violence/pain/death/toxicity)

I'm willing to do research for topics I'm not familiar with, but there are plenty of things I can't write about just because I haven't lived it and I know an hour of research wouldn't be enough to be accurate (and respecting other people's experiences is important)

I am unfortunately very familiar with what it's like to have trauma/mental illnesses. That said, while I'm very happy to explore how that impacts MC and their relationships, there are some prompts I may take a very long time to do or just not write at all because they would mess me up

In general, keeping the prompt relatively short (a sentence to a paragraph) helps me organize them better! The same goes for asks sent with a visible blog - if I have questions, I can reach out to you for more details! ^.^

Both my asks and messages are open because I love hearing from new people! If you abuse that you will be blocked :)

All of the above points have reasons for them, and are therefore subject to change. If you have an idea that you'd really like to see and you're not sure about, just message me! I can either tell you why I can't do it or I can make an exception depending on the case

RELEVANT FANDOM HAPPENINGS

(I don't do drama on my page, but these are some posts that provide transparency and accountability for some of the things I've been caught up in)

To the Arcana Fandom, From Brainrot

An update on Rai/Kip

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allmoshnobrain · 8 months ago

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 01 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 5,1k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, mxf sex, unprotected sex

✦ a/n: The epilogue's finally here! As I said before, I had to split it into a few parts because it turned out really long and I wanted to tie all loose ends lol I haven't finished writing it yet, but I'll try to keep posting twice a week. Many things will have changed in this, since it's set mostly in 1992. We will have some flashbacks, but I dated all the parts so it wouldn't get confusing. Hope you enjoy the read, feedback is welcome! ❤

December 31, 1991

San Francisco in December hit me with that familiar chill as soon as I stepped off the plane; I quickly slipped on my gloves and shrugged into my coat, letting out a sigh as the cold nipped at my nose and fogged up my breath. It felt weird being back after so long, back to the city where I'd lived, loved, and grown up all those years ago.

I’d bid farewell to San Francisco two years back when my art career started picking up steam, making the move to LA seem like the logical next step. Coming back to the city stirred up a pain that ran deep in my bones — a constant reminder of the happiness I once knew but could never quite recapture, a bittersweet flashback to all I'd experienced — and all that had slipped away.

Lars had invited friends and family for a massive bash at his vacation home, ringing in the end of the year and welcoming 1992 with a bang. I had a hunch the extravagant party had something to do with his recent divorce, after a rushed marriage which had barely lasted two years. He'd even sent his driver, Simon, to scoop me up from the airport.

It was a relief not to have to wrangle a taxi amidst the chaos of folks flying in for the last flights before New Year's Eve. Slipping into the Jaguar, I peeled off my sunglasses with a sigh; those shades had become my shield against being recognized in the last few months. Ever since I'd started doing TV gigs, getting spotted by strangers and paparazzi was becoming a regular thing. It came with the territory, sure, but sometimes, a girl just wanted a little peace and quiet.

"Good afternoon, Miss Burton," Simon greeted me with a smile as I hopped into the car, and I shot one right back at him. "Mr. Ulrich was really looking forward to your arrival."

"Thanks, Simon. Are the others already there?" I inquired, my gaze drifting out the window as we cruised away from the airport.

"Yes, Mr. Hammett and Mr. Newsted are. Mr. Hetfield will show up later; I'll swing back to get him after dropping you off. And Miss Summers won't be joining us."

I let out a sigh. Ever since Cliff had passed, Leanne had drifted away from the group, moving to another city and cutting most ties. She said it hurt too much to stick around — too many reminders of him . I got where she was coming from and harbored no hard feelings, but her absence had definitely put some distance between us over the years.

"Well, I'll have to shoot her a call later and wish her a Happy New Year," I mused absentmindedly. "Do you know if my aunt and uncle are gonna make it?"

"Yes, I'll pick them up later," Simon replied, earning a small smile from me. Despite Cliff's passing hitting us all hard, Aunt Jan and Uncle Ray had been a steady presence for me and the guys. They'd practically become like second parents to all of us over the years, always there in the Metallica routine, whether it was on the professional front or at family and friends' get-togethers.

It took us a bit to roll up to Lars' vacation home, a big old mansion tucked away in one of San Francisco’s most expensive neighborhoods, a far cry from the tiny house we used to live in back in the day. Simon pulled up at the main entrance; the door was wide open, and I caught a glimpse of the staff buzzing around, putting the final touches on the shindig. Judging by the crates of booze being unloaded, this was gonna be more than just a cozy New Year's bash with a few friends.

"Thanks for the ride, Simon," I said, grabbing my bag and popping open the car door. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Miss."

It didn't take me long to spot Lars; the moment I stepped into the foyer, there he was, barking orders to his assistant at lightning speed, champagne glass already in hand. I couldn't help but grin; classic Lars, hitting the booze before anyone else. He turned my way at the sound of my footsteps echoing on the polished floor, breaking into a smile as he strode over.

"Nore!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a bear hug. "I'm so stoked you made it."

"Hey, Lars," I grinned, returning the hug. It had been a hot minute since I'd seen him or any of the guys; 1991 had been a whirlwind for all of us, and work had pretty much consumed our lives at warp speed.

"How was the trip? Did Simon take good care of you?"

"Yeah, it was smooth sailing. Simon's a pro, always has been. But seriously, Lars, you shouldn't have him grinding away on the last day of the year."

"Oh, he's getting compensated handsomely for it, don't you worry. Hey, you remember your way around the house, right? Kirk and Jason are probably chilling in the sauna. Oh, Allie!" Lars called out to his assistant, a dark-haired girl who looked eager to please. "Got the guest list handy? Can you show our girl here where she'll be crashing tonight?" Allie nodded briskly, and Lars flashed me a smile, turning back to me. "Party kicks off at 9 PM, so I'm just tying up loose ends. Make yourself comfy, grab some grub if you're hungry, alright? Consider the place your own."

I trailed after Allie to my room, a fancy suite with a king-size bed that looked like it had never been slept in. Lars always had a flair for the extravagant, but Metallica's success in recent years seemed to have kicked that into overdrive; his new vacation house was straight-up lavish, with more rooms than I could count, a massive pool, a sauna, and even a private movie theater.

I decided to chill in my room until the party kicked off; as much as I was itching to catch up with everyone, I was straight-up wiped out. Lately, I'd been craving more time alone, away from the chaos of the ragers my friends used to live for. But hey, I knew we'd all cross paths eventually, and sure enough, when I finally made my grand entrance, one of the first faces I spotted was Kirk's, rolling in with James, who apparently had arrived while I was hiding out.

"Nore!" Kirk grinned, pulling me into a hug. I chuckled, hugging him back. "Damn, you're looking good!"

"Thanks, Kirk. It's all Lars' doing; he picked out the dress," I replied, nodding at the long red number I was sporting. I’d found it laid out on the bed in my room with a note telling me to rock it for the night. I eyed Kirk's suit, a slick navy number with gold accents. "You're looking sharp yourself."

"Yeah, that's all Lars' handiwork too. Dude's on a mission to throw the ultimate party. But hey, who am I to complain? There's champagne!" Kirk chuckled, clinking his glass against mine.

"Hey, Nore." I glanced up at the sound of his voice, meeting James' intense blue gaze. A faint smile tugged at my lips; being around him always stirred up a whirlwind of emotions that were hard to untangle. Love, sure, but also heartache. It stung, yet it felt oddly comforting. Like coming home.

"Hi, James," I greeted him softly. Kirk shot us a quick look.

“Well, I'm gonna go track down our host. Catch you guys later!" He excused himself. I watched Kirk saunter off, a slight jolt running through me as James' hand landed on the small of my back.

"Have you grabbed a bite to eat yet? Lars said you got here before me," he murmured, his voice low. I looked up at him, seeing his eyes scanning the crowd of guests, a champagne flute in his other hand.

"Not yet."

"Want me to snag something for you? Lars went all out with the spread this time."

"I'm good, James."

"Didn't drag your boyfriend along to the party?" he quipped, and I couldn't help but snort.

"What boyfriend?"

"That... Brian guy? I dunno, it's hard to keep up with all the dudes you've cycled through since we split," he remarked, a hint of irony dancing in his eyes. I furrowed my brow; was he joking or dead serious? It was getting tougher to read James these days.

"If you wanna know if I'm seeing someone, just ask," I shot back sharply. He let out a sardonic laugh and rolled his eyes. I held his gaze. "And what about your 'Nothing Else Matters' chick? She bailed on the party?"

"I ended things with her," he replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. "And I've told you that song wasn't about her."

"Then who was it about?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?" he growled, stepping closer. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. James and I had been locked in this dance for a while now, his anger clashing with my pain like sparks flying. It didn't shock me that Kirk wanted no part of our little reunion.

"I'm gonna go track down Lars," I tossed back dryly before strutting off. I could practically feel James rolling his eyes as he polished off the rest of his champagne in one gulp.

I didn't cross paths with James again until much later, well after midnight had come and gone. We’d all gathered on the balcony to catch the fireworks, dishing out Happy New Year wishes and hugs left and right. When the crowd filtered back inside, I lingered behind, a cigarette dangling between my fingers as I stared up at the star-studded sky, grappling with the bitter irony that another year had kicked off without Cliff here to see it.

"I did wanna know, actually," a voice cut through the silence, jolting me. I turned to find James leaning against one of the pillars, his gaze fixed on me with a serious edge.

"What?" I murmured, my heart picking up its pace as he closed the gap between us.

"You said if I wanted to know if you were seeing someone, I just had to ask. And I did wanna know," he replied, so close now I could smell the booze on his breath.

"I'm not," I answered, and he grunted, satisfied, before pulling me into his arms, his lips finding mine.

He tasted like beer and tobacco, his lips moving against mine in a familiar dance, the echoes of an old tune. No matter how much time passed or how much it hurt, James and I always found our way back to each other.

"You know that song was about you," he murmured, his kisses trailing down my neck, his grip tightening on my hips as he pulled me closer, our bodies pressed together. "Do you really have to mess with me like this?"

I didn't answer; instead, I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back to me, his arms holding me tight as he kissed me with urgency, nipping at my lower lip. He wasn't holding back as he pushed me against the balcony railing, his hands hiking up the skirt of my dress, his touch igniting a fire in my belly.

"My room or yours?" I gasped against his lips.

"Does yours come with a bathroom?" he quipped, and I chuckled softly, nodding. "Figures. Lars always hooks you up with the best ones."

"Mine, then," I murmured, a faint smile playing on my lips.

We made our way up to my room, James guiding me through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms in the house with his hand in mine. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, his hands were back on me, pulling me close as his lips trailed hungrily along my neck, tugging at the straps of my dress.

"James, you're gonna wreck the dress..." I protested weakly, my fingers tangled in his hair. He grunted, yanking it down, and I heard a rip that probably meant the garment was already ruined anyway.

"I'll get you another one," he grumbled. "As many as you want."

With urgency matching his, I stripped off his shirt, a few buttons popping off and bouncing across the bedroom floor. Before I could even blink, he lifted me, depositing me on the bed and positioning himself over me. I kicked off my heels, sending them flying into some forgotten corner, releasing a low moan as he pressed against me, his arousal evident through the fabric of his pants. There was no time for calm contemplation, no room for hesitation or second-guessing if this was the right move; our desire for each other was insatiable, ravenous and desperate, and I felt it would consume me completely if we didn't satisfy it right then and there.

I sighed as his lips reclaimed mine, his hand tangled in my hair, gripping it firmly as I worked on unbuttoning his pants, easing them down. He pulled back for a moment, shedding the rest of his clothes before sliding off my panties, emitting a low groan as he entered me. I shut my eyes, clutching onto his arms tightly, my nails digging into his skin. He wasn't holding back; and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Look at me," he growled, his hand guiding my chin as he thrust into me, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my mouth slightly agape as I let out small, sharp moans. He shifted his hand to my neck, pressing his forehead against mine.

"James..." I moaned, my grip on his arms tightening as he picked up the pace, sending shivers down my spine. "James..."

"I wanna ruin you. You get that?" he growled, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body at his words. Of course, I got it. What were we if not each other's downfall? What more could I want than for him to consume me entirely, even if just for a moment? For all the pain and heartache to vanish, if only while he was inside me. "I want you to be mine, all mine, all mine... Fuck..." he buried his face in my neck as my climax washed over me, my body clenching around him, my legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him deeper. "Nore..." he groaned, his own release crashing over him, filling me completely as he continued to move until the intensity of his peak forced him to collapse onto me.

He rolled away, settling beside me, leaving a pulsating void inside me where pain and pleasure danced together in my womb and heart. I shut my eyes, focusing on steadying my breath, and let out a soft chuckle when I felt his lips on my neck, his arms pulling me close in a fleeting but genuine comfort.

"My girl..." he murmured against my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I'd lost track of how many times he'd called me that, but it never failed to stir something in me. "Why do you keep running from me? Don't you know I love you so?"

I opened my eyes, locking onto his gaze, a blend of longing and yearning reflected back at me. Nestling into his embrace, I placed a soft kiss on his lips, feeling his gaze soften into a tender warmth that sent tingles down my spine.

"I'm here now," I murmured, tracing my fingers gently over his face. He sighed, closing his eyes, intertwining our hands and pressing kisses to my palm, one, two, three times before pulling me close in a tight hug.

Peace hadn't been a frequent visitor in my life for a while, but in that moment, I found it. I'd always find my way back to James, and he'd always find his way back to me. That certainty coursed through my veins, leaving me feeling whole in a way I hadn't in ages.

The next day, we'd be back in the spotlight, the distance between us creeping back in like a toxic fog. But for now, on that night, I was content. I was at peace.

I was home.

September 28, 1986

The shrill ring of the phone pierced through the silence of the empty house, yanking me out of a deep slumber with a groan. I blinked, the heavy rain drumming against the bedroom windows registering in my foggy mind. Stretching out across the bed, I groped for James, only to remember he wasn't there; my boyfriend was off on tour with my cousin and my friends. That left just Leanne and me holding down the fort.

Dragging myself out of bed, my eyes still weighed down by sleep, I shrugged into my robe and slipped on my slippers before trudging out of the room, descending the stairs at a snail's pace. Flicking on the lights in the living room, I scowled at the clock — it wasn't even seven in the morning. This better be an important call, I grumbled inwardly. I was itching to crawl back under the covers.

"Hey," I mumbled, stifling a yawn and rubbing my eyes in an attempt to shake off the sleepiness.

"Hey, Nore," James' voice crackled through the receiver, but in my grogginess, I barely registered the tense undertone, so unlike his usual laid-back demeanor.

"Babe..." I murmured, another yawn threatening to escape. "I know you're in a different time zone, but it's way early here. I was out cold..."

"I'm sorry. I had to call," he replied, and this time, the strain in his voice didn't go unnoticed. I furrowed my brow, sinking down onto the couch beside the phone, suddenly wide awake.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened. Is Leanne there with you?"

"I think she's asleep. Why?"

"We had a crash," he said, and my heart clenched, a surge of unease and dread knotting my stomach. "We were on the road... Late at night. The driver lost control..."

My breath hitched, and in that instant, a sense of foreboding washed over me. Something felt off, deeply unsettling. It just didn't add up. I knew I should be getting this call from someone else. I knew my cousin; I knew Cliff would want to speak to me and Leanne directly, to break the news himself.

Like when he shared he was leaving Long Beach for San Francisco. Like when he announced he was joining Metallica. Like when he called to tell me Dave got booted from the band, or when he rang to say Metallica was wrapping up tour and he wanted me there for their first hometown gig after dropping the first album.

Something wasn't right.

"James," I whispered, my voice trembling, tears pricking at my eyes as if I already knew what he was going to say. "What happened to Cliff?"

January 1st, 1992

I jolted awake, my cheeks damp with tears that refused to cease flowing. I sighed heavily, my breath shaky, the early morning sunlight just beginning to seep through the curtains. James' arms were wrapped snugly around me, his breath warm against my shoulder as he softly snored.

That dream, again.

It always seemed to resurface whenever I was near James. Maybe my subconscious still linked him to that chilly morning, to that phone call that’d shattered any hope of happiness for the rest of that year and beyond. A call that tore a hole in the fabric of my world, leaving an ache in my heart that felt like it would never mend.

The call that had shattered my heart for good, leaving no chance of putting the pieces back together.

I carefully shifted James' arm away from me, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I took in my tired blue eyes framed by dark circles, my brown hair tumbling in waves over my shoulders, and the red marks on my neck and collarbone left by James the night before. With a sigh, I opened the bathroom cabinet, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the pills I knew would help ease my anxiety.

I lacked the courage to return to bed, so I nestled into one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, observing James' peaceful slumber as the daylight gradually filled the space. He stirred awake soon after, as if sensing my absence beside him, his eyelids fluttering before he groggily opened his eyes. With a puzzled frown, he reached out for the bed, only to find it empty, prompting him to scan the room. A sigh escaped him when he spotted me, a sense of relief washing over his features that tugged at my heartstrings.

"Bad dream?" he inquired, and I simply nodded in response. "You wanna hop back into bed?"

"I'd rather not risk slipping into another nightmare," I admitted, and he sighed, sitting upright.

"Well, I know a surefire way to keep you awake, if you're interested," he quipped, and I managed a shaky laugh. I much preferred this relaxed and caring version of James to the sarcastic and irritable one from the night before. "So, spill. What was haunting you this time?"

"The usual. That day," I murmured. It wasn't anything new; I'd replayed that nightmare countless times, and James was well aware. My demons weren't a mystery to us, but that didn't make them any less terrifying.

With a sigh, he got up and strolled over to me, scooping me up effortlessly, which elicited a surprised gasp from me. He carried me back to bed, settling me down beside him, his hand securing my waist while the other supported the underside of my thighs, lifting one leg and tucking it around his waist. I hugged him tightly, nuzzling into his chest. It was a brief moment of warmth and solace, a fleeting calmness that I knew would vanish as soon as the day kicked into gear and he walked out that door.

"Are you taking off today?" I whispered softly. I understood that once James and I dove back into our regular routines — fame, commitments, the whole mess — things would get complicated again. I'd lose him once more; I'd been through that too many times in the last few years to entertain any other outcome. But as long as we were together, there, shielded from everything else, he was mine. And I craved his presence. I craved his warmth.

"Do you want me to jet today?" he countered, and I shook my head no. He grumbled under his breath, the rumble vibrating against my cheek as I snuggled closer. "Then I'll hang tight. I suppose we can annoy Lars a bit longer."

"I'm too scared to doze off," I admitted weakly, grappling with the heaviness of my eyelids, which threatened to seal shut from exhaustion. James planted a kiss on the top of my head, gently stroking my hair.

"I ain't budging. If you slip into that nightmare again, I'll be right here when you wake up. Deal?" he whispered, and I nodded.

I knew that as soon as I drifted off, that same haunting dream would likely rear its ugly head. It was just one more cruel reminder of the growing chasm between James and me. It felt like we were broken, perpetually out of sync, and his nearness both healed and wounded me in equal measure. But in that moment, I was willing to bear the pain if it meant he'd stick by my side.

"I love you, Jamie," I murmured, and he sighed, pulling me close as my body surrendered to sleep.

"I love you too, Nore," his voice was the last thing I heard before drifting off.

February 18, 1992

The bouquet of red roses James had given me was beginning to droop, the once vibrant petals shriveling and browning with each passing day. Yet, the fragrance lingering in the air remained sweet and evocative, as if the flowers were still in full bloom.

I sighed as I ran a brush through my hair, eyeing the dress laid out on the bed for the evening bash. It was the launch party for the new TV network schedule I'd been hired for, and showing up was not just a courtesy but a must.

I hadn't crossed paths with James much since our time at Lars' getaway spot. His absence had become a familiar ache over the last few years, a kind of shield we'd unintentionally built between us over time. Yet, there was always that tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd call out of the blue and bring back that sense of ease with his voice.

To my surprise, the phone did ring that day. I set the brush down on the vanity, hurriedly making my way to the bedside table to answer it, a rush of excitement coursing through me.

“Nore?” the voice on the other end wasn't James', but it still warmed my heart, prompting a smile to spread across my face as I sank back onto the bed, cradling the phone to my ear.

“Lea!” I exclaimed, feeling a surge of joy. “It's been too long! How've you been?”

“I'm great! And you?”

“Oh, you know. Just hanging in there. How's Joe?” I swiftly changed the subject. As much as I adored Leanne, I wasn't ready to spill my guts about how I was really feeling.

“Oh, he's doing fantastic. Actually, that's why I rang you up. We're getting married!” she announced, her excitement palpable, and I couldn't help but smile.

“Lea, that's incredible! When's the big day?”

“It's in August. We figured summer would be perfect. I'm calling to extend the invite; would you do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?”

I leaped up, my grin stretching wider across my face. Leanne and I had been thick as thieves since day one; seeing her so thrilled about tying the knot, and knowing she wanted me to be part of her big day, warmed my heart.

“Oh, absolutely!” I exclaimed, a bubbling laugh of joy and surprise escaping my lips. Lea chuckled in response, matching my excitement. “Thank you! I know it's going to be beautiful. Can you fill me in on all the details later?”

The rest of my day sparkled with newfound energy after the news; I even caught myself humming an old song as I finished getting dolled up for the evening bash, weaving my hair into an intricate hairdo my mom had insisted on teaching me.

When I finished getting ready, I checked myself out in the mirror, pretty pleased with the result; the dark blue spaghetti-strap dress hugged my curves just right, with the skirt flaring out at the waist and skimming down to my ankles. A dainty golden choker with crystals adorned my neck, and my long brown locks were styled to perfection, framing my face in all the right places, with my eyes sparkling, cheeks a touch flushed, and lips painted red.

But, of course, I couldn't roll up to an event like that on my own; right on the dot at 7 p.m., I heard the honk signaling my ride had arrived. I sauntered down the stairs, arching an eyebrow in surprise as I stepped outside and spotted the limo parked up front. My old friend Charlotte rolled down the window from the backseat, flashing me a big grin.

“Hey, Nore!” she chirped as I slid into the car, handing over a glass of champagne, which earned a soft chuckle from me. “Ready to rock?”

“I guess I’m a bit jittery. First time going to a party like this one,” I admitted. Now that I was on my way, the thought of facing a swarm of photographers and journalists at the event’s entrance was making me more nervous than I cared to admit, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

“Well, it's gonna be a blast, trust me! Everyone who's anyone will be there. I'll be your wingwoman, so don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure you rub elbows with all the big shots you haven't bumped into yet during the shoots.”

I nodded, taking a bit of champagne to settle my nerves, the bubbles dancing on my tongue and momentarily diverting my attention. If my acting career was taking flight now, it was all thanks to Charlie; she'd been the driving force behind my return to the scene after I’d graduated High School, persuading me to switch gears from the Visual Arts program up in San Francisco to Drama School down in Los Angeles, and had even helped me snag my first TV gig.

I'd recently jumped into acting over at the same TV network where Charlotte had been working as an actress for a while. Even though I hadn't wrapped up recording my first project yet, the buzz around a relatively unknown actress snagging the lead in the latest drama series had caught the media’s attention. In just about a year, my life had changed completely, going from being just another face in the crowd to even having paparazzi tail me. But truth be told, I was still getting the lay of the land at the network. Charlie had hit the nail on the head; this party was prime time to make some connections.

We rolled up to the party spot; I soon realized that navigating through the sea of photographers and reporters on that red carpet was no joke. But once I got past the Q&A, which mostly revolved around my work and career, it was time to get down to business. Charlotte ushered me into conversations with all sorts of folks: actors, musicians, executives, and even some of the network's shareholders. It hit me quick that networking at these parties was just as much a part of the job in the entertainment industry as being good at your craft.

The hours zoomed by amid chats, laughter, drinks, and nibbles. Soon, I was feeling drained and decided to grab a bite from the buffet before taking a breather. As I was fixing my plate, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, expecting it to be Charlie, ready to introduce me to someone new.

Never in a million years could I have guessed what awaited me in the next few seconds.

"Nore... Is that really you?" the man exclaimed, looking utterly astonished, and suddenly I was eighteen again, my heart racing in completely uncontrollable pirouettes as my breath hitched, my surprised gaze meeting his, the world filling with color and song as I stared into the eyes of Dave Mustaine.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

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kraekat29 · 8 months ago

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DISCLAIMER: RUBY ROUTLEDGE ™️/ PAIGE BAILEY ™️ IS MY OC, DO NOT USE HER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. IF YOU DO YOU WILL BE REPORTED FOR COPYRIGHT.

©️KraeKat29 2024

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘Series𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

All Too Well ( Prequel to Beautiful Mistakes)

Beautiful Mistakes

Maroon

Paper Rings

Suburban Legends

~~~~~~~~

Labyrinth

Lover

Call It What You Want

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘Smut𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

First Time: JJ and Ruby have just gotten their house and finally have time alone, only this time they explore each other in ways they never have before.

Favorite Treat: JJ comes home from work only in the mood for his favorite treat.

Punishment: When Ruby breaks the number one rule JJ has a few tricks up his sleeve to teach his girl a lesson.

Date Night: what was supposed to be a perfect night out quickly turned into a steamy session on the H.M.S. Pogue.

Red: in which JJ and Ruby discover each other's hidden fantasies.

Road Trip: it's the summer before senior year and as tension builds between JJ and Ruby they realize they can't avoid each other any longer.

Lazy Sunshine: a lazy morning with JJ and Ruby.

Game On: in which an innocent game becomes a steamy session.

My Treasure: some Halloween fun with JJ and Ruby.

Hurt So Good: a mafia smut request.

Gangster: part 2 of Hurt So Good.

Talkin’ Tennessee: an innocent late night drive quickly becomes steamy.

Squirm: An innocent joke turns out spicy.

Midnight Drive: A quiet romantic drive turns heated.

College Nights: A sleepless night leads to desire

865 : After a breakup JJ makes a drunk call to Ruby.

Homecoming: Ruby hasn’t been home in a few months. When she returns JJ shows her just what she’s been missing.

Lust or Love?: in which JJ learns what true love making feels like.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘Angst𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

I got you - in which desperate times call for desperate measures.

Law School Blues- Law school is never easy, when Ruby's teacher gets a little too harsh JJ is right there to help her through it.

Until I Found You- Ruby finally realizes what love is, all thanks to JJ

Cruel Summer- Ruby notices how JJ has changed this summer and not in a good way.

Dear JJ- Ruby reads JJ a letter, updating him on the months after his passing.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘Fluff𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

Pink? Seriously?: Preparing for the MGK concert Ruby sets out and dyes JJ's hair pink.. Only his reaction is not what she thought it'd be.

Perfect Birthday : Ruby's birthday has rolled around once more but only one thing can make it absolutely perfect this year.

Pink Hair, Good Times: Knowing her birthday is right around the corner John B surprises his twin with tickets to Machine Gun Kelly, only getting the tickets and knowing his sister meant he had to go all out.

Please Please Please: based off the please please please music video by Sabrina Carpenter.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘Other𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

The Twilight Saga

Scream

( extra Scream stuff)

Scream (rewrite)

Ghostface!au

Christmas Masterlist 2022

Christmas Masterlist 2023

Christmas Masterlist 2024

Juby Week 2023

Juby Week 2024

The Lakes

Neon Eyes

Invisible String

Charmed

Leave The City

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slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea · 6 months ago

Text

CW: OC talk + Rambling / Blood / Gore / Censored Nudity (character sheet) / Mentions of Drugging

(idk why these warnings are so intense, but I swear it's all just silly OC talk T^T)

I’m kinda sorta working on more (comprehensible) TS OC stuff in between studying right now… I wanna hurry and talk about them but without info dumping (if given the opportunity I will without hesitation 😔…) because in terms of the best stories I have conjured up for OCs in general Naudedel and Noble are surprisingly good and I’m very excited to share how deranged they are together…

Right now it’s just about making Naudy readable and working on extra fun stuff… like monsters!

I’m trying to work out his “monster” form…. The concept is there, but the execution is just not ticking the right boxes for me right now… also, the line art at the end is old and probably will go unused, but thought it was something to add here because like hehe look at my deranged son :)

When it comes to the writing I'm going to split it into two chapters. The first half will be a summary+ of his upbringing, and the second on how he fucked up his arm and why. Just enough info to get a read on what his deal is pretty much. I just need to edit the first chapter and rewrite some parts then it's ready to annoy the world!

I'm trying to think of a good design for his original mother... I'm thinking dark hair and milf (¬‿¬)･ﾟ✧ ... honestly I need to start drawing out the designs for all the other TS OCs I've accumulated over the year (?) here's a fun list-

Hickery (bloodhound OC... dilf oc...I've already been made fun of for his name, but it stuck to me so I'm keeping it!)

Maya (another bloodhound OC)

Cove (Hound's ex-husband)

Cetcher's gf + informant, who still needs a good name...

and that one guy! (doesn't have a name yet... but is important in Hound's part of the story... she bashed some of his guys in the back of head with a hammer... it was a whole thing... Leander got involved... gang war stuff, don't worry about it...)

There are technically more OCs, like that Hightown lady Noble befriended during their first few weeks in town. However, I'm not sure if I'm including her in the final plot meeting. But yeah, anyway I'm rambling so on to Noble news!

For Noble, everything is plotted out in advance surprisingly…character playlist and all... just need to find the words to explain their story other than “parasite with a weird God complex feels guilty” I do have some old memes and art of them though!

Noble curse stuff...

Childhood cult stuff...

Current reality...

Poor person masquerade dress censored for tumblr...

Noble folks!

I actually wrote out a whole little thing for the black dress in a what-if scenario of...

"Oh! ,,,What if there is a masquerade in Hightown and Noble sneaks in to get some information on a certain individual who might know a thing or two about curses, but turns out the whole event if devious and their all eating babies or some fucked up shit,,,, and what if while sneaking around they see Leander and are like 'what's he doing here?' and they lock eyes but he ignores them as he ducks into a closed off area with some important looking people,,, once he comes out he walks past them and they lock eyes again as he leaves,,, Noble chases after him and once they catch up they get to see his cold and detached side right before he hides them from the other guest,,, after they talk for a bit, or more like Leander talking over them and their worries as he slowly wipes their memories while they protest that it's not fair only to wake up the next day back in their room,,, thankfully their curse is good for more then just silly bouts of insanity so they have a hunch on what happened, everyone around them who knew where they went the night before were obviously worried and the general consensus is that they might have been drugged and should go check in with Kuras just in case (wow this is getting long...) but on their way to the clinic they run into Leander and of course discusses their current problem with him ,,, words are exchanged,,, a kabedon may occur,,, as he whispers in their ear,,, all fun till he erases their memories again, or at least tires before receiving a little gift that makes him look at this whole curse thing from a different angle." DEEP BREATH! ...Anyways... yeah.

But it was taking so long to write out that I ended up losing motivation so yeah... like everything else we will pray the motivation comes back so I can finish that... plus who knows, I might make an x reader version of it if I can. (don't hold your breath... I'm extremely slow)

Anyway, I'm gonna to shut up now because I've yapped enough. I'mma make some hibiscus tea (ironic) and head to bed... Night night, if you made it this far, thank you for listening to my craziness <3

#rambles #oc: naudedel #oc: noble #touchstarved oc

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metaphoricgibberish · 6 months ago

Text

Nights Like This One: II.

"Joel couldn't resist the tug any longer, finally succumbing to the dull ache at the base of his spine as he turned around and locked eyes with her— bright fucking blue, twinkling animatedly when they met his. Most of the time her eyes looked hollow, devastatingly so, but he'd noticed that when they got into these bickering matches her eyes lightened, and so then how was he ever expected to stop?"

paring: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 3.3k a.n. hi my friends! a few things: i did change sarah's age because i wanted to, i have creative liberty this is MY FUCKIN STORY!! lol. also i know nothing about construction, so i apologize, watch me make shit up with only google as my guide. please don't hate or be mean to my OC, she's going through some shit and the roles will be reversed later on after outbreak day, so let her be the emotionally unavailable, cold one for now. chapter length will be much shorter than most of my other fics solely because this has so many chapters. i'm writing it more in novel format than fic format, so forgive me. blame my useless, $120k creative writing degree. i hope you enjoy this. i'm having a lot of fun writing it.

Read on AO3

Fic playlist on Spotify

#fanfiction #pedro pascal #ao3 fanfic #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fic #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic

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harringtonstilinski · 9 months ago

Text

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Eighteen: Suzie, Do You Copy?

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) Word Count: 3,233 Warnings: fluff, some teasing, robin (yay!!) Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! Season 3 is upon us!! WE FINALLY GET ROBIN!! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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season masterlist

series masterlist

series playlist

“And if your path won’t lead you home, you can never surrender,” I sang, putting on a layer of mascara. I had to take the kids, minus my brother, to the mall.

Hawkins got a new mall built; our very first one, and it was the new hangout spot. You either shopped or you hung out, which is what I did most of the time.

When a knock sounded on my window, I knew it was go time. After I opened my bedroom door, I walked down the hallway and to the front door. For some reason, Mom was still awake, so I asked her if I could borrow the car to go see my favorite person, which she smiled and agreed.

When the kids piled in the car, I drove straight to Hawkins new mall; Starcourt. It literally had everything; shops, a food court, - hell, even a damn movie theater.

“Liv, hurry up, we’re gonna miss the opening!” Will groaned.

“Do I detect whining coming from a Mr. Will Byers?” I asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror. “Blame Mike. His ass had us waiting for him. Plus, I’m going the speed limit.”

“We’ll miss it if you keep complaining,” Mike said.

“Oh, look,” I said, pointing to the big ass building. “We’re here.” I parked in the closest spot I could find, the kids and I piling out before we walked inside the mall.

Lucas was making fun of Mike for being at El and Hop’s house… making out with her the whole time. Gross. But I guess I couldn’t say anything. Steve and I made out half the time.

Will and I laughed at Lucas’ tactics, the latter saying, “See? Even Will and Liv think it’s funny.”

“Because it is,” we said.

“Yeah, it’s so funny that I want to spend romantic time with my girlfriend,” Mike said. “And, Liv, you can’t say anything. That’s all you and Steve do.” “Yeah, but doing nothing but making out isn’t romantic,” I said. “You have to take her out, like on a picnic or something.”

He stopped and turned to face me, giving me a look that I chuckled at.

“Okay, I know it’s hard because of Hop, but you can take her on the front porch with a couple sandwiches or something.”

When we reached the escalators, we walked down them instead of enjoying the small ride it gave, everyone exclaiming out “Hey!” as we walked around them. We walked by a few people, me giving apologies to everyone the kids bumped into, someone saying, “Watch it.”

“Yeah, watch it, nerd,” Erica said. She was sitting by some plants, a waffle cone in her hand from the ice cream shop.

“Isn’t past your bedtime?” Lucas asked.

“Isn't it time you died?”

“Erica!” I chuckled.

“Psycho!” Lucas said.

“Butthead!” Erica retorted.

A couple more names were thrown at each other before Lucas blew a raspberry at her, Max grabbing his arm and telling him that what he did was mature.

Mike went into the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy, walking up to the counter and ringing the bell. A girl I came to know as Robin, hollered out, “Hey, dingus, your children and girlfriend are here!” before the window doors opened up, Steve coming into view, saying, “Again? Seriously?”

Mike just rang the bell a few more times before Robin let them in the back, where we followed Mike to the back door that Steve opened up for us. The kids went out first, Steve telling them, “I swear if anyone hears about this–”, the kids replying, “We’re dead!” before I tried to sneak by him, but failed as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said. I could hear the smile in his words.

I giggled as he walked me back into the back room of the shop, pressing my back against the wall. “Steve! I have to-” Kiss. “-get back-” Kiss. “- to the kids!”

“Later,” he breathed, diving back in for another kiss. “You have to kiss me stupid.”

I smiled, feeling his lips on my teeth before laughing.

Steve groaned, resting his head on my shoulder. “Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiv.”

“I’m sorry,” I laughed. Taking in a breath, I said, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I’ll stop.”

He looked at me, that look of really? in his eyes. I honestly couldn’t help but laugh at his look, him walking away towards the door to the front of the store before I walked up to him, grabbing his hand and turning him around. “I’m sorry.”

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he said, “Uh-huh, sure,” before kissing me again. He pulled away when Robin called, “Hey, dingus! Customers.”

“We’ll finish this later,” he said, nose brushing mine.

“I look forward to it,” I smiled, diving in for one last kiss before he disappeared. Not even five minutes later, the power went out. I stood up and went to the door that led to the front of the store, poking my head out as Steve came walking to the switch by the door. “What happened? Is there a storm coming?”

“I don’t know,” he said, flipping the switch up and down.

I watched Robin walk closer to him, watching him for a moment. “That isn’t gonna work, dingus.”

“Oh, really?” He annoyingly flipped the switch rapidly.

“I give you full permission to murder him,” I said, looking at Robin. Looking back at Steve, I said, “It looks like you’re jacking off.”

When he flipped the switch for on, the power came back on. Steve walked back to the ice cream buckets, saying, “Let there be light.”

“You’re lucky you’re hot as fuck,” I muttered, walking back into the back room. I picked up a book I kept back here for when I came to visit Steve… which happened to be almost every single day.

I guess I had fallen asleep because I woke up to feather-light kisses on my cheek.

“Liv,” Steve said, gently. “Come on, baby, it’s time to wake up. My shift’s over. You have to take the kids home.”

I groaned, opening my eyes. “Shit. I forgot.” I stood, placing my book back in its hiding spot before walking over to Steve at the front of the store so that he could close and lock the door that almost looked like a garage door.

The kids knew to meet me at the front of the mall, so I knew they were there. What surprised me was that Erica was standing there with them, waiting. Then it hit me; I needed to take Erica home as well.

Before I walked to my car with the kids, I kissed Steve goodbye and told him I’d be at his house later. I always dropped the car back at the house before biking to Steve’s, where I slept like a baby in his arms.

~~~

I woke up with a start and sat up in the bed, the word shit on repeat out of my mouth. Steve woke up as I threw the blankets off of me before I got out of the bed. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” I swear I looked like a chicken with its head cut off as I ran around his room, opening drawers and his closet door, looking for clothes.

“What time is it?” he asked, groggily.

“Uhm… 7? I think,” I said, pulling on some shorts. I grabbed my favorite graphic tee and put it on before finding my socks and Converse, sitting on the bed to put them on. I felt Steve’s fingers under my shirt, lightly stroking the skin of my back above my shorts.

“What’s the rush?” he asked, yawning.

“I forgot I have to go with Mom today,” I said, standing up, running my fingers through my hair. “We’re picking up Dustin from that camp.”

Steve nodded, remembering what I told him earlier in the week. “Will you come see me?”

I smiled. “Of course.” Bending down, I placed my lips on his, feeling his hand on the back of my head. I squealed when he pulled me down on top of him, peppering kisses all over my face. “Steve! I have to go!”

“One more,” he said, bringing his lips to mine once again in a sweet kiss.

I pulled away, looking at him. We haven’t said those three words yet, mainly because I didn’t want to feel rushed. I do feel it, but with his track record of that four letter word, I wanted to make sure I actually felt it, and I do.

Smiling, I said, “I’ll see you later.”

He smiled back at me, repeating my words.

I gave him one last kiss before getting off the bed once again to walk to the hallway then the staircase before going outside and getting on my bike to pedal myself home.

When I got home, I ran inside to my room for a moment, spritzing myself with my favorite perfume Steve got me for my birthday before my mom and I got in the car to go get Dustin.

Her and I talked about almost anything and everything, her main questions being about Steve.

“So,” she said. “Have you said it yet?”

I shook my head, forgetting she was driving. “No, not yet. I want to make absolutely sure.”

“Well, you have since you two were kids. What’s the holdup?”

I sighed. “His track record. The last girl he was with–”

“Nancy Wheeler,” Mom interrupted.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “She didn’t love him, and it messed with him for a few days. I guess I’m just waiting for the right moment, the right time.”

Mom put her hand in mine, squeezing a little. “You’ve always waited for the perfect time or place to say or do anything.”

“I-is that a good thing?” I wondered.

She laughed a little. “A very good thing. When it comes to you. Now, Dusty on the other hand–”

“He’ll blurt things out without thinking, do things without thinking,” I chuckled. “But that’s what makes him our Dusty.”

“And that’s what makes you you,” she said.

I looked at her and smiled before looking at the sign for the camp Dustin had been at for the last month. Oddly enough… I missed the little shithead. I smiled big when I saw him before I got out of the car and gave him the biggest hug. “I missed you, shithead.”

“I missed you, wiseass,” he said. I could hear the smile behind his words.

Mom telling us to come on caused us to break out of our hug. He tried to go around me to get in the front seat, but I beat him to it. As he got into the backseat, he whined, “Mom, Liv won’t let me sit up front.”

“Okay, first of all,” I said, turning to face him. “Every single time we’re both with Steve, you always sit in the front. On the way to drop your ass off at camp-”

“Livvie,” Mom said, driving back towards Hawkins.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “You got to sit in the front. So it’s my turn. You can sit up front when we leave again.”

“I’m gonna try and hang out with the party today,” Dustin said.

I groaned, turning and resting the back of my head against the headrest.

“He’ll understand,” Mom said.

“I know,” I dragged. “He was asking me about Dustin the other day on the phone.”

It was quiet for a moment before I heard Dustin say, “This is Gold Leader, returning to base. Do you copy? Over.” A few seconds later, he repeated his words. Since no one answered him a second time, I could tell he was frustrated when he repeated it a third time. No answer, so he proceeded to say, “I repeat: This is goddamn Gold Leader–”

“Dusty!” Mom and I exclaimed.

“What?”

“Relax, for goodness sake,” I said.

“Liv, I’m in range, they should be answering.”

“You’ve been away a whole month, honeybun,” Mom said. “Maybe they just… forgot.”

Tension rose in the car as Mom continued to drive us back home. When she pulled in the driveway, she parked the car under the awning. Dustin made his way inside the house as soon as Mom turned off the car, his duffle bag in his hand.

I went straight to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water, drinking about half of it before hearing Dustin say, “Liv, are you seeing this?”

Smiling to myself, I set the glass in the sink, rim side down before walking into the living room, seeing Dustin knelt beside his toys. Feeling hands on my arms and shoulders, I tried not to laugh as I counted from three on my fingers, five out of the six kids blowing their noisemakers.

I laughed as Dustin screamed and turned around, spraying something in Lucas’ eyes causing him to scream as well from the pain. “Dustin, stop!” I laughed. Grabbing Lucas’ shoulder, I led him into the kitchen. “Flush your eyes out.”

Max came in after us, turning on the water and sticking his eyes under the faucet.

I heard my phone ringing, so I ran to my room to answer it. “Hello?” “There’s that voice I adore so much.”

I smiled, laying on my back on my bed. “Steve,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I am,” he said. “But considering it’s only 10 o’clock, no one really comes in for ice cream this early.”

“Not even for some USS Butterscotch?” I asked, almost seductively.

He chuckled on the other end. “Not even for that. Hey, are you coming up here today?”

“Yes. You think I’m gonna miss you flirting with other girls just to get a sale?”

“I can’t believe you’re okay with that.”

“Well, as long as you don’t leave me for one of those other girls, I have no problem with it,” I smiled. I really did trust him. They really didn’t flirt back with him, which was honestly shocking.

“Dingus! Counter!” I heard Robin say. Steve sighed before saying, “I gotta go. But I'll see you two later?”

“Just me. Dustin wants to hang with the party today since he just got back. Not sure when I’ll bring him up.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later then.”

I giggled. “Sure. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone, smiling to myself. I was so incredibly happy with Steve. I just hoped nothing would mess it up. I ran out of my room when I heard the word girlfriend come out of Dustin’s mouth.

Popping my head in his room, Will, Mike, El and myself all exclaimed, “Girlfriend?”

~~~

After Dustin had told us about his girlfriend, whose name was Suzie with a Z from Utah, I got on my bike and rode to the mall, needing to tell Robin about this new piece of information. She didn’t know Dustin all that well, so she wouldn’t judge… or really care. Steve, on the other hand, needed to hear this piece of information from Dustin himself.

I ran into the mall, running down the escalators and straight into Scoops Ahoy, where I ran past Steve with a customer. Robin was in the back, so I quickly rushed out my words, out of breath.

She had her board in her hand, giving me a look that said I really don’t care.

Sighing, I said, “I needed to get this piece of information off my chest.”

She opened the window, the back of Steve’s head coming into view. I watched him scoop some ice cream on a cone before handing it to the customer, saying, “Alright, one scoop of chocolate, that’s a buck twenty-five. Anything else?”

The customer handed him some bills before he asked, “Ooh, Purdue. Fancy.”

“Yeah, I’m excited.”

He messed with the register as he said, “Yeah, ya’know, I considered it, Purdue, but then I was like, ya’know what? I-I really think I need some real-life experience, ya’know, before I hit college, see what it feels like.”

I facepalmed before looking at Robin, asking, “Why am I with him again?”

“Kinda like, uhh, I don’t know, see what it’s like to earn a working-man’s wage, ya’know? Uhh…” The register beeping distracted him for a second before he said, “I think that’s, like, really important.”

“Yeah, totally,” the customer said.

“Yeah, anyway, this was, like, so fun,” Steve said, almost throwing the girl's change back at her. “This is… my first day here,” he said, as the girl and her friend walked away.

“Aaaand another one bites the dust,” Robin said.

Steve turned around to face as she handed me her marker.

I looked at the board, counting the tallies as I marked one and said, “You are oh for six, Popeye.”

“Yeah, babe, I can count,” Steve said.

“You know that means you suck,” Robin said.

“Yep, I can read, too, but that doesn’t matter ‘cause I have my beautiful girlfriend right here,” he said, holding his hands out towards me.

“You can read?” I asked, feigning shock. “Since when?”

“Okay, you know what,” he said. I giggled before he added, “It’s this stupid hat. I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature.”

“Your heart?” I said, reaching over the counter to press my fingertips to where his heart laid beneath his chest.

He looked at me with a deadpan look. “My hair, wiseass.”

“Company policy really blows, doesn’t it? I mean, you don’t want your customers to eat Faberge with her USS Butterscotch.”

“Haven’t you considered… telling the truth?” Robin asked.

“Oh, you mean, that I couldn’t even get into Tech and my douchebag dad’s trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour, and I have no future? That truth?” Steve said.

“Hey now,” I said. “Future is standing right here.”

“Hey, twelve o’clock,” Robin said, pointing behind Steve.

He turned, saying, “Oh, shit,” before turning back to face me, saying, “Gotta flirt.” He turned to Robin and said, “You know what?” before tossing his hat off in my direction. I caught it and placed it on my own head as he said, “Screw company policy.”

“Oh, my god,” Robin and I said. “You’re a whole new man.”

Steve backed away saying, “Right? Ooh,” before turning around and yelling at the customers. “Ahoy, ladies! I didn’t see you there. Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Kill me,” I whispered. “Kill me now.”

“Can I get you guys a little taste of the Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons?”

“Give me the marker,” I said to Robin.

“You still have it, dingette,” she said.

I looked down at my hand, the marker, in fact, still there. I walked over to the board, putting another tally on it before capping the writing utensil and going over to where my book was, grabbing it and sitting on the corner of the counter to lean back against the wall to begin reading.

Once Steve’s shift was over - like, always when I biked - we loaded my bike in the trunk of his car, or what would fit, and drove back to his house, where we took our showers, got dressed in our pajamas and fell asleep, teasing each other about his antics at Scoops Ahoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! pls be kind and reblog! it really helps us content creators out <3

Additional Note:

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on February 26, 2024

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months ago

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Blackbird, Part 2: Envy

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory. Graphic depictions of violence.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. You were growing in your relationship with Fontaine. He was rising quickly through the ranks of the Scarlets, carving a name for himself while you fell in with a theater troupe, getting closer to the life of your dreams. You spend some time with Fontaine before he’s ordered to handle a shipment for his boss, Porter.

Word Count: 10,893k

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: WHEW. I know it's been forever since I updated this. But I finally got inspired. Woot! Please let me know what you think! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or umhinged ask!

Moodboard by the sweestest person ever, planetblaque!

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It was a fresh day. Mornings had a way of clearing everything up the night before. Wiped the slate clean. All those dark and depressing thoughts were tucked away for the time being.

You had the window partially open now so you could watch the night swallow the sun as you sat in the office, ready to confess more of your sins. And mistakes. You sighed, looking down at your royal blue dress. It was one of the first things Fontaine bought you. One of the first things he liked doing with his building wealth.

He liked to buy you things so you could model it for him. Watch whatever piece it was or jewelry it was shine and mold to your body. He liked to fuck you in it, so it ended up being more dresses and skirts than anything else.

Your core heated up just thinking of it. Those days where the kisses came more frequently, a burning need to stick around each other. Orbit each other. Like each moment spent apart hurt like hell.

Mr. Gates shuffled into the room, making plenty of noises so that he didn’t startle you. These things came more often. Times where you zoned out, reliving every memory. As if you visited it often enough, when you died, you’d be able to take it with you. Play it in the afterlife as if not even your murdered soul would be able to hate Fontaine.

You smiled at him as he closed the office door. The floor had been cleared, upon request, and now it was just you, your lawyer, and this damning tape. It had never been easy for you to admit failure. Failure was just an opportunity to learn and do better. And now it was immortalized on tape.

Mr. Gates sat down and placed the recorder on the desk. He turned it on and went through the intro, introducing himself, the date, the time, and who else was present. He asked if you were doing this of your own free and clear will and you stated your name and agreed. He nodded his head.

You missed the old school recorders. The kind that you could hear the tape moving. Now, it was just a blinking red button flashing up at you. You took a deep breath.

“I guess what excited me the most was that Fontaine loved me. And that kind of love is addicting. After a year of dating, you’d have sworn we’d just met by the way we couldn’t go a day without seeing or feeling each other…”

You danced around your apartment, learning the choreography you needed. You worked hard continuing to go on auditions and sticking to your workout regiment. You were slimming down in the areas that mattered like your face and arms. Who knew that stress didn’t go so well with losing weight?

Fontaine had been a godsend. Your feathers were ruffled at first, everything in you screaming not to rely so heavily on a man. But Fontaine would have none of it. He was too smart for his own good. Whatever you didn’t want to fess up, he conned, bribed, and schemed to find out some other way.

Sometimes you did it on purpose. You liked seeing him in focused mode, hunting after his target with hunger in his eyes. Fontaine was able to knock down each moral that you had by every stroke of his dick. Every kiss of his lips. Things that used to turn your stomach became justified in your mind the more Fontaine explained it away.

A condition of you being with him was that you had to hear the truth from him. You didn’t want to be surprised. If you were going into this with both eyes open, then your punishment would be to listen. To become complicit in everything he did. Every piece of drug that shipped out, every person that had to be bribed, every head that was taken to make his fat boss Porter richer and richer. That man was greedy.

And his greed only made those around him more and more jealous. All of that wealth. Won off of the backs of his employees. While he sat up and got fatter and fatter. It was disgusting. And you feared that Fontaine would fall into the same trap. So you listened. And you hoped to serve as a reminder that he did have something else to live for. Not just the next dollar.

Fontaine walked into the living room, zipping up his pants. He worked on his open shirt next, buttoning it up. You swayed your hips a bit more, bent over when you didn’t have to, and teased him with your eyes.

Fontaine stopped short and watched you, instantly hypnotized by your movements. He has never missed a chance to watch you dance. Watch you entice him with your body. You loved the bit of power, the bit of thrill it sent you to know that you had a powerful man like him putty in your hands. For a brief moment anyway.

You turned around, baring your back. You wore a pink tank top and booty shorts. You dropped slowly to your knees, spreading your legs and lightly shaking your ass.

Fontaine groaned. “That’s not part of the routine,” he said.

You looked at him over your shoulder and then started rising. “You know all of my routines?” You asked.

“Every one. And that is not part of it,” he said. His voice got rougher at the end. You wondered if it was because of the way you started dropping again.

“Are you sure? This could be a new one,” you said.

“I know the new one too,” he said.

You laughed. You looked back to see if he was continuing to dress. His shirt was still open, hands clenched in fists by his side. He had only planned to drop by for a quickie, the texts you were sending driving him insane until he rushed over and hit it like you needed him too. It had been…five hours since you last had a taste and he couldn’t leave a junkie for long.

You bent over and raised back up, shaking your ass for him. You turned around slowly and fondled your breasts over your tank top. The rough material rubbed against your hardening nipples and you bit your lip.

Fontaine moved over to the couch, beckoning you closer. You took a few steps forward and then stopped. “Are you sure? Don’t you have a busy day?” You asked.

“Fuck all that, come here,” he said. He inserted some bass in his voice and it sent shivers of desire down your arms and body.

Pulled by his words, you walked closer to him. He rubbed his thighs as you got closer, petting his dick over the fabric of his pants. His bulge was visible where you were and you licked your lips. With him, you were never satisfied enough. Never wanted to go a minute without him inside of you.

You’d never thought that being dickmitized was a thing. A year ago, you would have thought that no man would have you speaking in tongues. Or calling late at night for a booty call. Or not letting him leave the next morning because you needed one more. Begged for one more time and one more time.

You dropped into Fontaine’s lap, spreading your legs over his massive thighs. He groaned as you leaned on him. He cupped the back of your head with his big hands, cradling you like you were the most precious thing on the planet. He slanted his lips against yours, plush, full lips that kissed you so well.

You gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. Dance with yours. He suckled on your bottom lip. You moaned and rubbed your pussy into his crotch. You needed one more time before he left you again. Left you to do more awful things in the streets of LA.

His left hand left your head and skimmed down the right side of your body. He pushed the seat of your shorts and panties to the side, fingers finding you wet, and he groaned. He played with your pussy, rubbing you up and down from your clit to your entrance. He gathered more and more of your slick, to the point that you could hear his fingers smacking in your clenching pussy.

You moaned into his mouth as he continued with his sweet torture, bringing you to the edge only to back away and retreat to your entrance. His plunging fingers were a distraction, calming your orgasm down enough to where it was no longer imminent.

“Fuck, Fontaine, please,” you moaned.

“I love to hear your pretty ass beg, sweetheart,” he moaned against your lips.

“Please, Fontaine, please, Fontaine,” you said between kisses. He was killing you from the inside out.

“Keep begging like that, I’ma bust this nut I’m holding,” Fontaine groaned.

“‘Taine, please,” you whispered. He smiled against your lips, kissing down your jaw and down your neck. He licked your neck, licked the gathered sweat there and moaned. He curled his fingers inside of you, rubbing against a tiny little button that had flashbulbs going off in your mind’s eye.

You bucked and moaned, back cowing into him. His right hand held you closer, held you to the rapid thumping in his chest. You gripped onto his shirt and grunted, biting down on your lip.

“There we go. There we go. I bet that shit feel good, don’t it?” Fontaine said against your neck.

You trembled on his fingers, shivering. You managed to nod. “More, please,” you whispered.

Fontaine chuckled. “Can’t get enough?” He asked.

You shook your head, still panting from an intense orgasm. You could craft entire ballets devoted to Fontaine’s fingers. The same hands he drew life with, he breathed it right back into you. And it turned you on that he was capable of both. Capable of protecting and ending a life with the same breath that told you he loved you.

“You gon’ rethink moving in with me?” He asked.

You snapped your eyes to him and narrowed them. “‘Taine!” You said. You tried to shuffle off of him, but his fingers had never left your pussy. As if remembering that fact with you, he wiggled his fingers against that same nub of nerves and you were groaning and shifting your hips more, almost forgetting what you were upset about.

Fontaine had been asking you to move in with him for some weeks now. You hated seeing the disappointment in his eyes when you turned him down. You hated making him think that you didn’t want to live with him. You did, of course you did.

But who would look after Kimmy? You already stopped dancing as much as the club, finally falling in with a theater troupe. You saw less of your friend and she grew more distant and resentful of how much time you spent with Fontaine.

You tried to make her see that you had enough love in your heart to love them both. She only knew love as the way Rusty taught it to her. Forced it on her. She didn’t see love as beautifully as you did. Didn’t know that love only made you love more. Love everything.

All Kimmy saw was that you were pulling away first. If you moved out, Kimmy was liable to hate you forever. And then you truly would be what she accused you of. Relying too heavily on Fontaine and making your entire world about a man. You may have loved Fontaine, but you always loved you first.

Moving in with Fontaine at the moment was terrible timing. You weren’t sure what you needed to do to win back one of the bestest friends you’d ever made. You and Kimmy had been through hell together. You were there for her when she had her son. Moved in with her to help with the baby. Studying dances while you consoled her weeping son so that she could get some rest.

You didn’t understand her animosity. And you needed time to figure it out. “Did you only come over here to ask me that shit again?” You asked.

Fontaine shook his head and looked you in the eyes. There was something deeply erotic about looking down into Fontaine’s eyes, seeing the pathetic desperation. The pleading and begging.

“I know your reasons, but sweetheart, I only want you closer. I’m tired of telling you I miss you. I want to tell you to come home. So I won’t ever have to leave you again,” he said.

You sighed, kissing his forehead. Fuck. You hated this. You wanted to say yes so badly, but your heart was split in two. You had dueling desires and a pit in your stomach. If you chose wrong, it’d spell the end of a very important relationship in your life. It was becoming abundantly clear that you could only have one.

“I hate leaving you too,” you said. The mere thought of it had your chest squeezing painfully. Your stomach sinking. You hated feeling sick like that. Hated that dreaded phone call that told you that Fontaine took a bullet and wasn’t ever waking up again.

“Then come home with me, baby. I’m getting closer. I’m earning the guys’ respect like Porter said I need to. Pretty soon, they’ll follow me because of me. Not because Porter favors me. Pretty soon, I’ll be right by his side. And when he passes the business to me, we can run shit how I want,” he said.

You’d heard this before. This plan that Fontaine cooked up while he was a corner boy. When each of their families blew up and they made the decision to get into gangs, Isaac and Fontaine were immediately snatched up by the Scarlets. Porter took pity on them, his own backstory mirroring theirs. As they got older, the other guys resented how much Porter favored them. Giving them the best assignments, letting them flake whenever they wanted, ordering guys around.

Fontaine volunteered to earn his way. Truly earn it. There would be some that would always see him as someone who was spoon fed. Who was the chosen one to take over the business with Isaac as his number one. But if Fontaine could be ruthless enough, mean enough, tough enough, then he could earn their respect because of who he was as a person. No one else.

“I’ll think about it, ‘Taine. That’s all you’ll get. Stop pestering me,” you said. You lifted off of him, no longer wanting to be seduced into saying yes.

Fontaine held on to you, kissing on your neck and chest. “Let me make it up to you for being so annoying. I just wanted you to think about it,” he said.

“Then ask, like a normal person,” you said.

“Sweetheart, I’m never normal whenever it’s with you,” he said.

Bastard. You sighed, melting into his arms like he knew you would. He was such a cute bastard when he wanted to be, saying or doing something that tore your heart to pieces. He shoved your panties down your legs, instructing you to stand up and remove it completely. Tank top too.

He unbuttoned his pants, the quiet snap sending a quiet thrill through you. He freed his fat dick, smacking it in his palm and telling you to get back on. You hopped back into his lap, scooting up until you were able to kneel up and line his dick up with your entrance. You slowly sank on his dick, crying out.

You still weren’t used to his size. Used to the way he stretched you completely, filling every inch of you with every inch of him. He groaned with you, sliding you down further and further until he was buried to the hilt.

“Fuuuck,” you moaned, pussy throbbing against his dick.

“Fuck, you feel good. Fuck, you feel good,” Fontaine moaned, moving his hands underneath your thighs and moving you up and down. You helped by bouncing on his dick, helping him ram himself inside without mercy. Apologizing with his dick, showing you that he truly was sorry.

“I’m sorry to pressure you. I just miss you so much, sweetheart. Miss you crying on this dick. Miss talking to you, kissing you, cooking for you, playing with you, tasting you,” Fontaine said. He moved his head to your chest, suckling his two chocolate kisses into his mouth. He alternated, one nipple after the other, until both were aching.

Your stomach clenched, the best ab workout ever to hover like this and get pounded. Your moans were loud and needy, choppy little grunts as you held onto Fontaine for dear life.

“Let me come over when I’m done tonight. Need to taste that fat pussy again,” he groaned into your chest. He teased one of your nipples with his teeth, rubbing the sensitive bud back and forth and causing you to shiver.

You were looking forward to one quiet night. That rebellious streak flaring up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Fontaine, only that you needed some alone time to reflect on things. Move around without someone hovering. But at the same time, your body craved Fontaine. Needed whatever he was promising in his words.

You found yourself nodding, enjoying his dick now but looking ahead to what he had planned later. When he didn’t have anywhere else to be for a while and could take his time. Savor your body. And let him savor yours.

He groaned, dropping his head back to the couch cushion. He was so hot like this. Neck bared. Eyes and jaw slack. Moaning and groaning under you because you felt that damn good.

Your belly flipped and twitched, getting closer and closer. A knock on the door pulled you out of the bubble you erected with Fontaine. You turned your head, but Fontaine grabbed your chin. He made you look into his eyes.

“The world and the moon with it, sweetheart. Just look at me. Nothing else. I’m all you need,” he said. He groaned, hips jerking faster as you flooded his dick with your essence. As your whimpers and cries brought tears cascading down your face. You sniffled as you came with a strangled cry, nails digging into his shoulders as you held on and let the orgasm wash all over.

“That’s my sweetheart, there she is,” Fontaine cooed as he sped up, taking advantage of how wet you were. He pumped a few more times before cumming himself, groaning against your chest as he pulled you closer.

He knocked the breath from your lungs and you choked on your breaths. He could have it all. Every last bit of oxygen if it meant that he’d survive. You didn’t care how that made you sound. You only knew that there was no you without him.

You panted into each other’s mouths, stealing kisses when you could spare a breath. You moaned into his mouth, wishing there was some other way to thank him. To give him back a tenth of what he gave to you.

He kissed you a few more times before the knock at your door grew louder, causing a loud ruckus. You smacked your teeth and leaned away from Fontaine.

“You need to tell your friend to watch whose door he’s knocking on like that,” you said. You stuck a thumb over your shoulder as Fontaine sighed, and smacked your ass lightly.

“He don’t mean nothing,” Fontaine said. You scooted off of him with a huff. You put on your clothes and then hunted for your robe. Isaac made you feel ickier every time you saw him. Like each rung on the ladder that he climbed to more wealth, made him slick. Made him twist his words and meanings.

Fontaine didn’t see it. His childhood loyalty was blinding him to what you saw. What you saw in Isaac’s eyes every time Fontaine kissed or hugged you. He was jealous. Fontaine listened but ultimately blew you off. He was always going to defend his friend.

Locating your matching pink robe, you crossed your arms. Fontaine looked from you to the front door and sighed. He got up, tucking his softening dick in his pants and zipping himself up. He ducked down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. I know it’s tough, but I promise all of this is for you. I’m going to give you that world,” he said.

“I never asked for the fucking world,” you said.

“But it’s no less than what you deserve, okay?” He said. He didn’t wait for you to finish before stealing a kiss on your lips. He backed away before you could smack him, your worry and nerves making you lash out and pick a fight.

Fontaine went to the door and opened it. Isaac stood on the other side, whispering something to Fontaine. You asked Fontaine not to tell Isaac that you knew everything. Your grandmother would have called it your family’s gift. A weird sense of intuition that just told you all about a person’s character from interacting with them enough times.

Isaac was firmly in your red flag column. There was something you couldn’t puzzle out about him and it was driving you nuts.

Fontaine nodded. He turned to look at you. He smirked, his mask firmly back in place now that he was in front of his friends. You blew him a kiss. When you were done, you looked at Isaac who looked at Fontaine like he hated him. He schooled his features by the time Fontaine looked forwards, heading out of your apartment.

Isaac looked at you, daggers in his eyes, as he closed the door behind him. Your heart was in your throat. Isaac scared you. But you didn’t want to make Fontaine choose like Kimmy wanted you to. You wouldn’t stand between him and his best friend. You only hoped you lived long enough to let Fontaine see it for himself.

You went to your living room window, peeking out of the curtains. Isaac and Fontaine were laughing at something, egging each other on with adding more to the story. Fontaine had fixed his shirt, getting into the passenger seat while Isaac got on the driver’s side. Three large trucks pulled off down the road, the tiny road on Stocker making it impossible for anyone else to get through.

You sighed and looked at the retreating cars, praying for Fontaine to be okay. You took a shower and got dressed, taking the bus to Culver City. You entered the studio, already coming alive by being here. Fontaine certainly made you feel as if you could fly. But it was also satisfying flying solo.

You were still part of a group, but you were higher on the call sheet than you were used to. You had more dances to learn and more chances to outshine everyone else and become a lead. To try your hand at acting and really getting noticed. You knew with every fiber in your being that you were going to get what you wanted. You just had to keep doing what you were doing.

While you were following your dream, Fontaine was following his own version. All the way across to downtown, fighting traffic to get there.

Mr. Gates held up a hand and leaned over the tape. “Let the record reflect that the next piece is hearsay and not admissible in a recognized court of law.”

He waved for you to continue. You hadn’t expected the interruption but you were grateful for this. For his help. You didn’t want this to blow back on Fontaine if this ever reached someone else. This was intended for your one true love. It’d crush you if someone else heard your words and tried to hurt him with it.

You collected yourself and took a deep breath. Each tick of the clock was like another tiny nail in your coffin. You pushed through it, keeping your end goal in mind.

“Fontaine told me that it was all Isaac’s idea. He remembered this because it seemed so odd for someone who’s never pulled a trigger,” you explained.

“Man, stop talkin’ about that shit,” Fontaine said and shook his head. Isaac was starting to piss him off. And he didn’t want to ruin the sweet moments he spent with you. Didn’t want anything messing up his buzz from being between your legs. Hearing your voice. Or feeling you clamp down on him like you didn’t want to let him go.

That’s what he wanted to focus on. Not whatever fucking scheme Isaac had this week. Isaac slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “I’m fuckin’ telling you that Porter is going to get rid of me first chance he gets. I’m not his favorite like you are,” Isaac said.

Fontaine rolled his eyes. Some days he wished that Porter hadn’t taken such an interest in Fontaine and Isaac. He was taught everything he knew, learning the business from Porter’s hip. Isaac resented all of it. He wanted to get in on his own steam. Prove himself.

The problem was, Isaac could never follow through. And now the nigga thought that he could take down Porter on his own. Or more stupidly, with Fontaine’s help. Porter was like a father to them both. Talking about this was giving him a headache and he shook his head.

“Ain’t you fuckin’ tired of this shit? Being his fuckin’ errand boys? Hopping to whenever that fat fuck snaps his fingers?” Isaac asked.

Fontaine watched the cars whizz by while on the freeway. His thoughts turned to you, to what you were doing. He wished he had enough time to watch you rehearse. He had more free time when he was a corner boy, standing outside in the heat. But this was all for you, whether you knew it or not. He had something to build and he hoped that you had enough trust in him to see it through.

“I don’t wanna hear this shit, Isaac. And you better not let Porter hear it neither. He’s on his way out anyway. He’s a few cinnamon rolls away from a heart attack, alright? There’s no rush,” Fontaine said.

“No rush for you. The other guys think I get special treatment too,” Isaac said. He eased them off of the freeway and headed deep downtown, weaving around until reaching the Scarlet Lounge.

“So the fuck what? They ain’t gon’ do nothing,” Fontaine said, waving his hand. The other men under Porter were old school as well. Following whoever was paying their bills. None of them had leadership potential, none of them had what it took to take Porter’s place. He didn’t understand where this urgency was coming from.

“Just think about it, cool?” Isaac asked, pulling around back and closing the door. Fontaine shook his head, getting out of the car and fixing his suit. Getting higher in the organization meant that he had to start dressing the part. He still didn’t feel like a grown up when he wore suits. But he wanted to be taken seriously.

He’d have to stop fucking you in his suits. He had too many wrinkles. But he couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed about it. He slammed the door shut to Isaac’s car and walked up the back of the tall building. Isaac knocked on the back door, giving Fontaine a look that he chose to ignore.

He wasn’t thinking about shit. He was not going to have a hand in killing his boss. The man who saved him. Fontaine would be dead, buried by grief, if Porter hadn’t stepped in.

The back door swung wide, Stanton, one of the guards looking at them both before waving them in. They were immediately swept up in the hustle and bustle of the Scarlets’ home base. The back door led past the dressing rooms and back rooms. The kitchen and extra storage rooms. The stage was in front of them, stagehands moving around carrying props or sets, or following behind dancers.

You used to work in a place like this. Yours were further west, catering to a different type of crowd. He was secretly glad that you were out of that game. There were too many seedy people that frequented those places and he didn’t want some asshole ogling your body.

Fontaine led the way to the other side of the club, crossing through the front of the house, and entering the door behind the bar. He took the steps all the way to the top, to Porter’s office.

The door was open, Porter standing at the window and looking down at the stage. His favorite dancer, Jackie, was practicing on stage. Fontaine wondered what it was about gangsters and pretty girls. What was so appealing about stealing innocence. He may tell you about this life, but you managed to stay the one bright thing in his life.

He looked up at Fontaine and Isaac entering. He waved for Isaac to shut the door and he did.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time, boys. Got a job for you,” Porter said. He wobbled back to his desk, his weight making him waddle side to side. He sighed as he got back in his chair, the metal groaning from the weight.

Fontaine sat down on the sofa underneath the windows. Isaac chose the seat in front of Porter’s desk. He crossed his legs and got comfortable while Fontaine stretched his arms across the couch cushion.

“I need you to oversee a shipment today. I’ve been hearing some whispers about it when no one should know about this shit,” Porter said.

“We’re not runners anymore,” Isaac said.

“What’s with the attitude, you little shit?” Porter asked, puffing his cheeks out at Isaac. He squinted at him, seemingly waiting for a response. Fontaine’s pulse beat in his veins. He didn’t know what Isaac would do. If he was talking about killing the man, would he do it here? Would he try to kill Fontaine too? Would he kill everyone in this place?

Would he spare Fontaine? Would others think he had something to do with it if he was spared? Fontaine hated that he was now technically complicit since Isaac told him. He didn’t know what Isaac would do at any given moment and it made him nervous to ride around with him.

Maybe you were right. Maybe there was something wrong with his best friend. He looked at Isaac’s side profile, at the way his jaw clenched as he stared at Porter. When Isaac didn’t say anything, Porter huffed.

“I need extra eyes on this since Shayne thinks he can encroach on my territory,” Porter said. He pulled a file from his desk and tossed it across his desk. Isaac stood up and grabbed it, sitting down with it as he perused it.

“I’ve got the pigs covered. Cameras will go down while you’re moving it. I need an extra car. Take whoever you need to, but ensure that that package reaches its destination like it’s supposed to,” Porter said.

Fontaine nodded. They were dismissed. They got up, heading out of the office. Isaac handed Fontaine the folder. There was the list of names of who was on it, the police they bought off, the streets they were supposed to take.

Safely down in the front, Isaac tapped Fontaine’s shoulder. “He’s got us doing this shit like we’re back on the street running his drugs. C’mon man. You like being ordered around like this?”

Fontaine’s head swiveled around the club, at the work staff working to get the place ready for the night. There was no one looking their way. “Stop talking about that shit. Are you trynna get us killed? Whatever the hell you’re thinking, stop it. I don’t want any parts of it,” Fontaine said.

“I’m not the only one feeling like this. You say the word, ‘Taine, and we’ll follow you. A lot of us are tired of being under his thumb,” Isaac said. He looked at Fontaine and then snorted. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. You’re so busy buried in pussy, you forget why we signed up for this in the first place. So that no one could ever tell us what to do again.”

Fontaine shoved Isaac into the wall. “Keep her out of your fucking mouth,” Fontaine said. His mind was spinning, reeling. He knew that his head was so completely wrapped up into you that he let some things slide. Lost track of the day to day as he focused on the distribution of the drugs that Isaac ensured crossed customs. They worked as a team all this time. But now, it was like looking at a fun house mirror version of Isaac. It had his face and it spoke with his voice, but this was something different. Somebody possessed his friend.

“If you’re not going to join us, we’re moving without you. Tonight will be the last night that Porter Sommer runs this town,” Isaac said. He shoved Fontaine away and then left the building, leaving Fontaine to reluctantly follow after.

He felt sick. He felt like he needed to puke. How could he choose between them? Why was Isaac making him choose? If he ratted Isaac out, Porter was going to kill him. If he went along with Isaac, he’d be losing Porter and becoming an enemy of the Scarlets. Loyalty was everything to him.

He climbed in the car like a zombie, following Isaac, unsure of what to do. Why the fuck would he spring this on him tonight.

“Why are you doing this, Isaac?” Fontaine asked. He needed all of the facts before he could make his decision.

“I’m getting the life I’ve always deserved. I’ve done everything for that, nigga. Everything he fucking asked. And who does he choose to take his place, you?” Isaac snorted. “You’re head’s on backwards because of that girl. You’re not fit to lead any fucking body.”

Fontaine laughed, but it was harsh and quick. No mirth whatsoever. “I’m the one who pulled the triggers while you sat there and sobbed like a little bitch,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. This was some unbelievable shit. He had to think. He had to find a way to save Isaac’s dumb ass. He only wished he could find a way to save him and his relationship with Porter.

Sweat poured down your neck as you ran through rehearsal once more. The lead kept fucking up, doing her own thing instead of listening to the director. If he wasn’t so busy burying his dick in her, he’d see that she was a talentless hack.

Your ego would always get the better of you, as you groaned and turned around to walk to your starting point.

“Got a problem?” The lead, Christa, said and placed her hands on her hips. You turned around to see who the hell she was talking to. She was flanked by a few of the friends she made in the troupe, turning the gathered people into an “us” versus “them” situation.

You crossed your arms. “Yeah, learn the damn dance,” you said.

A few of the others laughed, but looked away when Christa leveled them with a stare. She walked closer, her long thin legs crossing the space in no time. She stopped before she got into your personal space.

“You always think you’re so funny,” she said.

“No, I just talk a lot of shit. And people happen to agree with me,” you said. You looked her up and down. She was a joke. All those looks and she couldn’t manage to learn something besides kicking her feet and smiling. And her singing was even fucking worse.

“You’re a joke. You think you could do any better?” She asked.

You smirked. “I know I can. Anytime you wanna be embarrassed, let me know,” you said.

“What the hell is going on?” The director, Arthur, climbed onto the stage. He shoved his way through the gathering crowd and stopped when he saw that it involved his sex toy and you. He looked between you, smacking his lips with an impatient huff.

“Get back to your positions, now,” he said.

“She just threatened to hurt me. She said she was going to break my legs before show time,” Christa said, leaning into Arthur. She was decidedly taller than the man, but managed to make herself seem like a victim. She hunched her shoulders and grabbed Arthur’s arm, looking at him.

Arthur sniffed in your direction. “I had heard about how difficult you were and I was reluctant to take you in. I knew you wouldn’t fit into our troupe but I was willing to give you a chance,” he said.

You reared back, looking from Christa to Arthur. “Are you fucking serious? You’re going to believe her lies? Not even ask if it’s true?” You asked.

The audacity of it all. Heat burrowed in your chest, pressure building with how angry you got. That white hot anger was coursing through you, bubbling under the surface. You were close to exploding like a volcano. Ready to knock all this shit over.

“Why would she lie about something like that? God, I should have listened when David said not to hire you. But the donation from your little boyfriend…”

“Wait, what?” You asked.

Christa’s face turned more smug, looking at you as she stood behind Arthur. “Tell her, baby,” she cooed in his ear.

Arthur folded his arms and sighed. “Fontaine made a donation to the theater to ensure that you’re happy here. I didn’t want to take the money but we needed it. But that does not mean that you can do whatever you want or threaten whoever you’d like,” he said.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Fontaine paid for you to be here? Tears stung your eyes but you refused to give these bastards the satisfaction. You held your head up high and squared your shoulders.

“If that’s the case, then fine. Believe whatever you want. This is a terrible play you chose, you’re a suck ass director, and no amount of pussy will help you become a better one. You’re always going to be several degrees separated from Broadway and with good reason,” you spat at Arthur. Fuck him and his racist bullshit. You didn’t need this.

Your anger bubbled over, chest heaving. Your eyes were itchy, but you willed the tears not to fall. Willed your tongue to speak true and strong. “And no amount of sucking dick is going to make you a better dancer or singer. This play is going to fail and I’m glad I’m out of here before opening night,” you said. You stormed past Arthur, catching the looks from other people.

Some were on your side, giving you thumbs up and smiles. Others were looking at you like you were crazy. Christa gaped at you while Arthur sputtered. You stopped near Arthur and looked at Christa on the other side of him.

“I hope her pussy was worth it. When my boyfriend gets done with this place, you’ll never work again. I’m pretty sure that donation came with terms you just violated,” you said.

Arthur turned wide eyes towards you. “Please don’t tell him. We can work something out. I can make you lead,” he said.

“Hey!” Christa said, smacking his shoulder. Arthur paid her no mind as a cruel smirk twisted your lips.

“I hope he buries you under this place so I can tap dance on your grave,” you whispered to him and then got off of the stage. You grabbed your dance bag, slung it over your shoulders, and then stormed out of the doors.

You let the tears fall. Big hiccuping sobs that made your chest ache. You thought…you thought you were finally on your way. You worked so hard this past year. Why would he do this? Why would he interfere in something you were adamant about doing on your own terms?

His betrayal was like a knife in your heart. Did he not believe in you? All this time, had he been lying? Pretending to be interested in your dancing? You believed everything he said up until now. But was that merely a ploy? What was his end game?

You didn’t know when you’d see him again. He texted you saying that he had something important to do tonight and now wasn’t sure if he’d see you after. He was going to try his hardest of course. Now, you weren’t so sure you wanted to see him. If you saw him right now, you were going to kill him.

You waited for the bus, stewing in how humiliated you felt. How someone like Christa could bypass all of your hard work by making some idiot feel good every night. It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be this fucking insidious.

You made it home in a blur of tears, your door swimming in front of your face. You sniffled, finally able to truly break down since you were at home. Free and clear, you closed the door behind you and then slid down the door, wracking cries shaking your shoulders.

Kimmy walked into the kitchen and spotted you, face buried in your hands. Your tears were hot, making your face scrunch up as you cried. Your mind screamed that Fontaine wouldn’t do something like this. Wouldn’t go against your wishes. Wouldn’t intervene when you told him countless times that it wouldn’t count unless you were able to do it yourself.

She crossed the room, asking what’s wrong, and pulling you into her arms. You cried on her shoulder and told her through hard tears of what happened. She stroked your back and then helped you off of the floor.

You had no clue what you were going to do to Fontaine the next time you saw him.

You stopped here and swiped at your tears. That was one of the first blows to your relationship with Fontaine. At the moment, it got lost in everything that followed. You weren’t able to tell Fontaine exactly how much it hurt you that he betrayed you in such a way.

Mr. Gates stopped the recorder and handed you some tissue. You blew your nose, apologizing for being gross.

“That’s quite alright. Tears do the soul some good,” he said.

You chuckled. “I don’t know about all that, Mr. Gates,” you said. You drank some water that he provided earlier. You looked down at the recorder. “Do you think he’ll listen to it? To any of it?”

Mr. Gates leaned back in his seat. His charcoal suit looked good on the old man. It reminded you of Fontaine, at how he started to look forward to wearing suits. To how dignified he liked looking.

“He will. If he wants to find you after,” he said.

“He might kill you for this,” you said.

Mr. Gates smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about me, young lady,” he said. He smiled patiently but still. You warned him of the risks of putting this in motion and he still helped you. You didn’t know how Fontaine was going to react to this tape. You only hoped he got to the end.

You took another sip of water and then swiped at your eyes. You nodded to Mr. Gates and he started the recorder again.

Fontaine blew warm air into his hands as he stood on the docks in San Pedro, waiting for the shipment to come in with Porter’s important package. Isaac had been silent next to him, standing as if the cold didn’t bother him at all.

Hours later, Fontaine was no closer to how he was going to protect both Isaac and Porter. There had to be something. This night couldn’t end how Isaac hoped. He was diving head first into something they wouldn’t be able to take back.

“Does it have to be tonight? Can you give me a few days?” Fontaine asked.

Isaac looked at Fontaine out of the corners of his eyes and rolled his shoulders. “Porter will be distracted tonight. All eyes are on this shipment. He has a skeleton crew over at the Lounge right now. We won’t get another chance like this,” Isaac said.

Fontaine cursed under his breath. A light flickered in the distance, signaling that their ship was finally coming in. They watched the little dot approach, getting bigger the closer it got.

“Dammit Isaac, this ain’t right,” Fontaine said.

Isaac shrugged. “Dog eat dog world, my nigga. If we don’t act now, we’re always gonna be under that fat fuck. He’s gonna order us around until he ninety, wanting us to wipe his ass. It’s time for the Scarlets to show some strength. Shayne’s bitch ass out there taunting us,” Isaac said.

Fontaine eyed the wild look in Isaac’s eyes. This was about more than getting from underneath Porter. Isaac had always been a hot head, reacting instead of taking his time to think things through. Porter could make Isaac feel inferior all he wanted, but Isaac just wanted this for himself. He wanted to be the one that the men took orders from.

Now their talks over the past few months made sense. Isaac had to be planning this for a long time. Had to cook this up with like-minded people. Plotting without Fontaine’s knowledge. Because he wasn’t sure which side Fontaine would fall on.

Fontaine grinded his teeth as the ship came in. Porter’s boys started unloading the drug shipment. It was a new drug Porter wanted to introduce. A longer high with worse symptoms on the come down. Fontaine looked around, feeling like it was a little too quiet.

There was an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t quite reach. He put his hand on his gun, looking around. Something didn’t fucking feel right. He nudged Isaac and jerked his head, made Isaac go to the other side of the truck to keep an eye on the shipment.

Fontaine glanced around, pulling his gun all the way out. He scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There were just the overhead lights, casting a harsh pale light over the boardwalk. The water rumbled beneath and there was a distant bell in the breeze. Mist rolled in off of the ocean but he still couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

The shot rang out and pinged next to his head. Fontaine ducked, calling out for everyone to look out. The shots continued, focusing on him by the sound of it. He ducked down, running behind the nearest docked boat.

He looked over the edge. There was a flash coming from the tree line. Fontaine aimed for it. He must have hit something because the flashes stopped, only to start coming from another point. There was yelling and gunshots rang out, going back and forth.

Fontaine cursed. He was too far away from the shipment. He wasn’t sure how far along they were or if everything was already packed up.

“Isaac!” Fontaine yelled.

“Good! We got everything!” Isaac called back.

“Get to the drop point!” Fontaine yelled out. He stood up and let off a few more shots, the gun heavy in his hand. Adrenaline rushed through him, making his hand shake but he had to focus.

“I’m not leaving you!” Isaac yelled.

“Fucking do it!” He yelled back. Metal pinged next to his head and he dropped down further. He needed to move. He ducked and ran, hoping against all hope that he’d make it. He ran towards the cars, ducking as bullets pinged all around him.

“You stupid fuck! I said go!” Fontaine yelled. He pointed his gun behind him, pointing towards the tree line and unloaded. Sirens sounded off in the distance. They needed to leave right this second.

Fontaine hopped into Isaac’s truck. Isaac started it, reversing and following the drive to the parking lot and then out of the docks. The trucks squealed down the streets, splitting up to confuse the people pursuing them.

Fontaine reloaded his gun, slamming his hand on the dash. “Fuck! I told you to fucking go,” he yelled at Isaac. Isaac blew past freshly turned red lights, honking at other cars as he got on the 405 freeway.

“I wasn’t leaving you!” Isaac yelled. He looked over at Fontaine. “You’re my brother, nigga.”

Fontaine growled and hit the dash again, looking behind him for anyone pursuing them. They seemed to be okay now. There were always cars on the 405 freeway, but this time of night didn’t lend itself to many cars. Isaac easily floored it, speeding along the freeway and as far away from the scene as possible.

Isaac blew past Hawthorne, continuing on the freeway. “Where are you going?” Fontaine asked.

“It’s time we finished this. I’m sorry, but I need you on this one. I won’t make it if you don’t help me,” he said.

“Turn the car around, Isaac,” Fontaine said.

Isaac shook his head, gripping the steering wheel harder. He said nothing more as they traveled, the sound of the road the only thing keeping them company. Fear gripped Fontaine’s heart the closer they got to downtown, switching to the 110 for the rest of the way.

Fontaine’s fingers turned numb as they got closer to the Lounge. “Isaac, you don’t need to do this,” Fontaine said.

“Yes, I do. Sick of that motherfucker laughing at us, man. Living large on the fucking money we made for him. While we run around hustling for every dollar we got,” he said. He shook his head. “Shit ain’t right, ‘Taine, and you know that.”

“We have more than we could ever spend, Isaac. This ain’t it,” Fontaine said.

“It’s him or me, ‘Taine,” he said. He pulled around the back of the Lounge. The place was busy, music spilling out onto the street through the open door.

Fontaine’s heart jumped as Isaac made his way inside. Fontaine looked at the other guards, the other men who swore to follow Porter. Because they were close to Porter, they were not impeded as they went through the backstage area, moved around fluttering dancers and haphazard stage hands.

They crossed the main room, behind important business men and the clueless average person who wanted to see a good show. Isaac made a beeline for Porter’s office. Fontaine grabbed his arm.

“Don’t do this shit,” Fontaine pleaded one last time. Isaac looked at him, nothing but determination in his eyes. He shrugged off Fontaine.

“Stay here, Fontaine. It’ll be okay,” he said.

He turned and went up the stairs to Porter's office. Fontaine flirted with the idea of letting Isaac go. Of letting Porter kill Isaac and spend his time explaining that he had no idea. No clue. Spent his time proving his loyalty by rooting out anyone loyal to Isaac and killing them too. Buying his innocence with the blood of his friends.

One person. Or the lives of many. The bloodbath that would ensue. The infighting. The betrayal. Not being able to trust the next person. But he couldn’t lose his friend either. Couldn’t stand by and let his friend do something stupid.

He took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he heard yelling and arguing. When he entered the office, Isaac had his gun pointed at Porter.

“The fuck is this, Fontaine? You in on this shit too?” Porter asked and then dug into his steak. Blood seeped out of the steak as he cut into it and Fontaine’s stomach turned. Porter acted like he wasn’t in mortal danger.

“I wasn’t in this shit,” Fontaine said. He looked to Isaac. “Put that shit down!”

Isaac’s hand trembled as he looked at Porter. He shook violently as he stared at the big man. “I did everything for you, you sick fuck,” Isaac said.

Porter chuckled. “It’s always some ungrateful mu’fucka like you. Someone who looks at what I got and forgets why I’m sitting in this chair, and your ass is on the street. You remember when I found you? Covered in your own shit, sleeping underneath a trash can lid?” Porter laughed around a bite of steak and potatoes.

Isaac’s grip tightened on the silver beretta, pointed right at Porter’s head. “You were a punk ass kid then, with your little hand out every time you wanted something. But ‘Taine? Heh. Fontaine got something you can’t teach. He’s got a ruthlessness you’ll never possess,” Porter said.

“All you do is pit us together. Like we’re some fucked up version of Cain and Abel, playing some fucked up game in your head,” Isaac said.

“I needed to see which one of you had enough balls to take my place. ‘Taine will make a wonderful boss. You? Heh. I’ll be surprised your nappy headed ass makes it out of here alive,” Porter said.

Isaac stepped forward, gripping the gun with both hands. “Issac, no!” Fontaine yelled, stepping closer. Isaac swung the gun towards Fontaine.

“Stay there and don’t interfere, ‘Taine!” Isaac yelled.

This was like a nightmare. He was watching his best friend fall apart. And he hadn’t been here. Hadn’t listened, not truly. He would never regret a single moment he spent with you, but he did feel shame about letting Isaac slip through the cracks.

“Fucking Mr. Perfect. You always get everything don’t you? You get the job, the money, the girl. All of it.”

Fontaine held up his hands, trying to placate Isaac. “Isaac, we’re boys. What the fuck?” He asked.

Isaac wiped the sweat off of his brow on his forearm. He was shaking, blinking too much, and swinging the gun between Fontaine and Porter. “You’ve been by my side all this time. You’re telling me your ass has been jealous of me? Like whatever is mine isn’t already yours? If you needed money…”

Isaac laughed, spit flying from his mouth. “Needed money! The shit I needed would’ve robbed the world blind.”

Fontaine cursed. “You back on that gambling shit?” Fontaine cursed some more, disappointment bleeding through his tone. He was there the last time Isaac got into a giant hole. The people he owed money to were threatening to break his kneecaps if Isaac didn’t pay up. Fontaine helped Isaac get clean, taking him to meetings when he could. When did he slip?

“Who do you owe money to, Isaac?” Fontaine asked, dreading the answer.

“I thought if I went to Shayne’s hall, I wouldn’t be recognized. I had been feeling lucky,” Isaac said.

Fontaine cursed again. “Feeling lucky. You can’t fucking gamble, nigga!” Fontaine yelled. Isaac had the worst luck. Constantly going for the longshot. There was no strategy. He just had a burning need to keep going because he could hit at any moment. A broken clock had to be right twice a day but not Isaac. It was nothing but a rash of losses. The rare time he did win, he used it as an excuse that his luck was turning around.

Porter laughed. “Fucking addict. You went to Shayne? To our biggest enemy? You’re lucky they didn’t shoot your ass when you first walked into the hall,” Porter said and laughed. He shifted in his seat.

“Isaac, damn,” Fontaine said.

“I’m in too deep, ‘Taine. He said to get square, I had to kill Porter. Or he’ll kill my family,” Isaac said. He turned pleading eyes to Fontaine. To his brother. Fontaine didn’t know what to do.

He’d failed. He failed his best friend. He didn’t see any of this. Had no earthly clue. He looked at Porter who squinted at Isaac. He moved his hand while Isaac was busy looking at Fontaine.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Isaac said. Sounding small. Sounding like the little kid who had his back on the streets.

Porter lifted his hand. Fontaine grabbed his gun and shot Porter to protect Isaac. Music thumped down below. The office was soundproof, so that Porter could still do business while he watched the dance routines below. Watched the money rake in.

Isaac turned his body, aiming his gun at Porter. Porter was slumped over his desk, blood pooling and mixing with the blood of the steak. Isaac sighed, heavy gulps of air loud in the room. He turned wide eyes to Fontaine.

“‘Taine, thank you,” Isaac said, wiping his eyes. He lowered his gun and looked between Fontaine and Porter’s dead body. “Thank you.”

Fontaine sniffed and looked at his gun, at the wisps of smoke escaping. Isaac was thanking him for killing the first man who ever gave a damn about him. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat and lifted his gun and squeezed the trigger.

Isaac’s shocked face was horrific as the bullet went neat through his forehead. He crumpled to the floor, blood pooling onto the dark carpet.

The keening whine in Fontaine’s ears was actually coming from himself. He watched the blood seep into the floor as his best friend was dead. Dead by his own hands. He shivered, freezing cold all of a sudden.

He lowered his hand to his side and looked around the office. The blood spatter. The two bodies. He had no clue how he was going to explain this shit. No clue how he was going to clean it up.

He stood there for a while, crying. He hadn’t cried since he was on the streets, crying for something to eat and not understanding why someone wouldn’t help a starving kid. He knew he was on his own when his mom retreated further into herself and didn’t give a shit if her sons ate. He knew then that he would always be on his own and would always have to fend for himself.

His thoughts turned to you. That you’d know what to do somehow, even though this wasn’t your world. He’d greedily brought you in, wanting you for himself. Believing that you were owed to him like some stupid prize from all of the hard work he put in. He was so damn selfish.

And selfish still because he didn’t want to give you up. Now that Isaac was gone, dead, you were all he had left in this world. Would you judge him for this? Would this be your final straw?

He promised never to lie to you but he’d never been tempted before now. He didn’t want you to stop looking at him like he mattered. Like you loved him. He didn’t want you to stop loving him for being a monster.

He took a deep breath, committing to what he had to do next. He used his phone to alert whoever was on duty that Porter was dead and Isaac was the one who did it.

You cried yourself to sleep. You woke up with a deep sense that something wasn’t right. You lifted up in bed. Kimmy was asleep in her bed behind you, at your request not to leave you alone. You felt groggy and terrible, achy all over. Your face was puffy and sore. You hated crying, but you did feel slightly better about it.

You weren’t a stranger to having your dreams dashed yet again. You would find a way through it. After you got done beating Fontaine’s ass.

You got out of bed and checked on her son. He was sleeping soundly in his toddler bed, chubby fingers pressed close to his mouth. You closed the door and then headed to the kitchen. You turned on the light above the stove so you had enough light to see by.

You warmed up some tea, pulling the hot kettle off of the base as it clicked when done. You poured the steaming water in your cup, still feeling like shit. You needed a shower. You were gross and you wanted to wash today off of your hands.

You blew on the mug and moved to sit at the kitchen table when there was a knock on the door. You stood back up, padding over to the door. The only person who would dare swing by right now would be Fontaine. He was lucky that Kimmy’s son was here, otherwise you’d wake up the whole neighborhood with your screaming.

You looked out of the peephole just in case. Fontaine stood there, leaning against the door frame with his head held low. He grew his hair out even more, telling you that he was thinking about growing locs.

You opened the door and quietly opened the door. The rare cool air hit your exposed legs in your nightgown as you stared at Fontaine. He lifted his head when you opened the door. The speech you prepared died on your tongue as you took in the haunted look in his eyes.

He was still wearing the blue suit he wore earlier, much more disheveled and blood spattered on him. His face fell when he looked into your eyes. He grabbed you and pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply.

“‘Taine, what’s wrong?” You asked.

He held on more and you maneuvered underneath him to close the door behind him. You stood there, taking on the majority of his weight as he sobbed on your shoulder. It was scary seeing Fontaine cry on your shoulder. Whatever it was, it made your own fear rise the longer he quietly sobbed.

You pulled him into the living room and made him sit down. You grabbed the whiskey bottle from the pantry, bringing it to the living room with a shot glass. You poured Fontaine a glass. He drank three before he calmed down enough to start telling you what happened.

He wouldn’t look you in the eye as he spoke. You grabbed his hand and squeezed as he recounted everything that took place when he left your house. How Isaac had been acting differently, more distant. Lying more often. Fontaine blamed himself for not seeing the signs. For not checking in on his friend.

“Someone else’s habit is not your fault. Isaac was intentionally keeping it from you. Because he knew that you would make him stop,” you said.

Fontaine shook his head. “It was my job to take care of him. I promised I would,” he said.

You scooted closer to Fontaine on the couch. You snuggled into his side and kissed his cheek. “You did everything you could, baby. Isaac made his choice. He had plenty of chances to ask for your help,” you said.

“I shot my best friend, sweetheart. I don’t know how to live with that,” he said.

You wanted to ease his pain. The way you felt betrayed earlier paled in comparison to Fontaine killing his best friend. This was not how you thought today would end up. You and Fontaine were supposed to be at the top of your game.

He would still get an earful, but it wouldn’t be right now. You helped Fontaine to his feet and walked him to your room. You stripped him of his shoes and clothes, tucking him into bed. You slipped in behind him and held him while he cried himself to sleep.

You yawned, getting sleepier as you remembered all of those emotions as if it were fresh in your mind. That night had been rough. The subsequent nights that followed were rough. The transition of the Scarlets to Fontaine’s control was bad all around.

Some refused to believe Fontaine’s version of events. But since there were only three people in the room, two now dead, they had no choice but to follow Fontaine. They called him Kingkiller behind his back but he never let them know it fazed him. He let them believe the myth so that they wouldn’t try to test him like Isaac tried to do to Porter.

Your mind drifted thinking of that time. Even as you recount everything, you weren’t sure where it started. Was it when he asked you to be his girlfriend? When he took you on all of those dates? When he kissed you at the fair? Was it when you bumped into him outside of the theater, facing another rejection? Another door in your face. Another person believing that you were nothing but scum under their shoe.

Whenever it was, it started you down this dark path. Facing your imminent death with dread in your belly. You hated the waiting part. Hated that all you could do was sit here and count the days. Sit here and get your affairs in order. Move around your money, getting your family together.

You wanted to have everything taken care of. So that when you left this world, you left it better than when you entered it. That you touched enough people’s hearts, lived as wildly as you could, lived as freely as you could. That somewhere deep down, Fontaine wouldn’t hate you when you were gone.

Whew! There's always more! The Secret Tyrone Files | Part 1

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year ago

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this is us ~ jjk | epilogue

✨ title: this is us | complete (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap, best friend’s brother ✨ playlist | ✨if you haven’t read the prequel to this, please do so here! :) ✨ a/n: hi my TIU darlings. we have finally come to the conclusion of this story. 1.5 years later. it's crazy to think about. anywho, i've done my best to research IVF treatments and outcomes, so don't come for me if something is inaccurate (i tried!!!) ✨ a/n 2: remember we have our little TIU celebration!! which I'll make a post about on Friday, which will include some fun things for you. i hope you'll join in on the fun. lastly, thank you so much to everyone who has followed this little story from the beginning. i owe y'all so much!!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

epilogue ~ us | wc: 5.9k

warnings: minor language, the pacing is fast so bear with me!, mentions of ~ fertility treatments (IVF) + needles + low sp*rm motility, some sad thoughts, a game reference to the tv show (This Is Us--iykyk), note: IVF cycles are typically around 2 months, oc jokes about unaliving jk bc he got her preggo, descriptions of labor (err--if you don't wanna read it, then just skip it??), idk I think that's it in terms of warnings lol--if I miss any, kindly let me know

~ Six Months Later ~

Two percent.

The IVF success rate for women ages 35 to 37, and you were smack dab in the middle. Well, you haven't turned 36 yet.

Your face was buried in your hands as you repeated the number. You sat back, turning to Jungkook. “The success rate is 2%. Two!”

He looked just as disappointed after the two of you spoke to the third fertility specialist within a few months, but Jungkook was always optimistic. “It’s better than zero.”

You groaned, leaning over and burying your face in your hands again. He rubbed in circular motions up and down your back. Your eyes began to well up, tears on the verge of falling.

“I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but this fucking sucks.” Everywhere you went, the outcome was the same. There was nothing hopeful about the situation.

Jungkook massaged the back of your neck. He muttered softly, ‘Hey.’ He stood, holding your hand, making you stand with him. He pulled you in for a hug. His body warmth radiates as he embraces you. “We’re gonna be part of that 2% success rate.”

You pressed your ear to his chest. His heartbeat is steady. Bum. Bum. It begins to calm your own.

You don’t want to say your thoughts, but your mouth is faster than your brain. “But what if we’re not?” Your heart speeds back up.

Jungkook immediately withdraws from you, grabbing your shoulders and making you square up with him. “Okay—time to play ‘worst case scenario.’ Go.”

The two of you started this little game, taking turns saying all the bad things you’re thinking. With no judgment, no censorship—saying aloud your fears takes away the power they hold, according to your therapist.

“We get pregnant and lose the baby.”

It was a scenario you already had in the past.

“We try all four cycles and don’t get pregnant,” Jungkook says.

“We exhaust every option, spend all our money, go broke, have to move in with Yuna and Namjoon, and still don’t get pregnant.”

Jungkook blinks. There’s no show of emotion on his face. He closes the distance between you, cupping your face. “Or—we keep trying, get pregnant, and have a baby.”

You gaze into those doe eyes you love so much. You couldn’t do this without him and the hope and support he brings. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

The corners of his mouth curved up, “Sorry baby, you can’t get rid of me so easily.”

“Baby?”

“I mean—wifey.”

You chuckled, teasing him at his own game. “Can we go home and veg out?” All you wanted was a bowl of ice cream and your comfort movie.

“You’re not giving up on me, are you?” Jungkook raises his eyebrow.

“Just for tonight, okay?” You give a small smile. “Then tomorrow morning, I’ll put on my brave face.”

“Deal.”

“Hmm, which one do you think Hyunie and Taehyung would like?” You tilted your head, debating between the mylar helium balloons. One said ‘Hello baby’ with zoo animals, and the other said ‘Sweet baby girl.’

Who knew picking out balloons would be so hard?

“I like the ‘Sweet baby girl’ one, and here,” Jungkook points to a cloud-shaped balloon, “Get this one too.”

The two of you walked hand in hand down the hall, ready to greet the happy parents. Hyunie was in early labor for a day and a half before active labor started. She texted, saying it was the longest few days of her life.

“This will be us soon,” Jungkook says before approaching their hospital room.

You flashed a thin smile. “I hope so.”

When you walked in, Hyunie happily ate a jello dessert, and Taehyung was passed out on what looked like an uncomfortable chair. His hand is gripping the bassinet where baby Hani is all bundled up in a swaddle blanket and beanie with a gigantic bow–almost bigger than her.

Hyunie grins when she sees you, and Jungkook brings her index finger to her lips, mouthing ‘shh,’ and points to her sleeping babies.

You walk to Hyunie’s bedside, and Jungkook goes to Taehyung’s.

“Hi, Mama,” you say, leaning to hug her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing much better after this jello–just the energy boost I needed.”

“Aw–good! Now, I will ditch you and steal your baby for a moment.”

Hyunie giggles. “Be my guest!”

You stroll over to Jungkook as he’s standing in front of the bassinet, facing Hani. You wrap your arm around his waist, placing your head against his chest, focusing on his heartbeat.

“She’s so tiny,” he points out.

“Are you going to hold her?”

“What if I break her?”

You pinch his belly. “You’re not going to break her. Just be extra careful and support her neck and body.”

Jungkook didn’t have the luxury of being around when Indie was a baby, but he’ll get some practice in with baby Hani.

He took a deep breath and shook off his nerves. He stepped closer to the bassinet, his left hand cradled underneath Hani’s neck, and then you muttered to take his right hand underneath her bottom. He gently lifts her from the bassinet, trying to shift her head closer into the crook of his arm.

Hani begins to stir and squirm in his arms, but you reassure him that it’ll be okay. “Gently rock her, and she’ll settle.”

“How are you so good at this?” He looks at you before focusing on Hani again.

You giggle. “Well, I have a pretty good record as an Auntie.”

“You’re going to be a great mom,” he says, kissing your cheek. “Me as a dad? That’s a different story.”

“It’ll take practice, Kook. We can’t be so hard on ourselves already.”

“Mm, you’re right.”

Jungkook feels a kick against his leg. It was Taehyung probably having an intense dream.

“I’m up! I didn’t fall asleep!” Taehyung hollers, immediately sitting up.

All of you blink at the newly tired dad and start laughing. This would hopefully be you and Jungkook soon. Tired and delusional with a baby in your arms.

The white walls and tiled floors were becoming familiar to you and Jungkook. You slowly turned to your husband, who was hunched over, holding the bridge of his nose. It was your turn to comfort him.

You focused on the small spider crawling down the wall, sucking in your lips, trying your best not to laugh.

He turned to you, pouting. “Don’t laugh.”

You raised your eyebrows, lips still sucked in, shaking your head. “Do you see me laughing?”

“You’re laughing on the inside. I know it.”

Your hands rubbed his shoulders, rocking him back and forth. “Kook–it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He leaned back, head against the wall. “I was,” he paused, “nervous.”

“Mmhm,” you nodded. “I bet that’s the reason.”

Jungkook groaned, stomping his feet, burying his face in his hands.

On the inside, you were chuckling just a bit. You knew how much he prided himself in how much he could come. He’d always point it out, especially after you two started trying for a baby.

Like how he’d always comfort you, you gave him tickle scratches along his spine, letting him know it’d be okay.

“I’m sure you’re not the only man who has a high sperm count but has low motility.”

He pops back up. “I need to see my little men under a microscope. Whoever the lab tech is must be wrong.”

“Kook—” you stressed. “I did a lot of research, and they say men with high sperm count and low motility can still have kids.”

He lets out a deep breath. “I know. I’m just being a big baby.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to you. “See, I don’t need a baby—I have one right here,” you teased, patting his cheek as he pouted again. “I’m kidding. I want a little human with your eyes and cute nose.” You reached to bite his nose gently, and he chuckled, going for a kiss.

“Worst case scenario?” he asks.

You tilted your head, thinking about the infinite possibilities, but the two of you always came up with the same outcomes. “How about the best-case scenario?”

Jungkook hums.

“We get pregnant and have a baby.”

He perks up. “We have two babies.”

You blink at your starry-eyed hubby, holding out your hand in defense. “Okay–let’s just try to have one first.”

You hissed, closing your eyes when the sharp needle pierced your flesh. Thankfully, it was the last day of injections. Jungkook was always a champ when it came to these shots.

He set the syringe down, grabbing a piece of gauze to apply pressure on the wound. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. This was round two of your IVF cycle. The first cycle was tough–you were mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. Your mood was constantly changing. You were bloated, fatigued—you name it, you had it.

Even Bam could tell something was happening. He was on alert, guarding your every move. He was the spitting personality of Jungkook.

Bam was lying outside the bathroom door, waiting for the two of you to finish. As soon as you walk out, his head perks up, and he stands to his feet, following you to the bed. Jungkook drapes the duvet over you and hands you the TV remote. Bamie looks at you with his doe eyes, practically asking if he could come to snuggle with you.

“Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to get onto the bed, and he does without hesitation. You wouldn’t mind Bamie snuggles today.

Jungkook sits on the bed’s edge. He inches closer, stroking your cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home today?”

You shake your head no. “I’ll be fine. I have Bamie.”

He gives a small smile. “I’ll only be there a couple of hours, then I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything or want me to pick up dinner, okay?”

You hummed, kissing him before turning on the TV. Bamie looks at the two of you, then turns his attention to the screen.

Jungkook stands by the door, saying goodbye. He closes it, his hand lingering on the knob. He wants to stay and snuggle with you and Bam all day, but he also has to network to be a candidate for this new job.

“Okay, Bam. What should we watch?” You look over, and his eyes are already closed, making you chuckle. “Can’t hang, huh, bud?” You ruffle his floppy ears.

You’re unsure what you’re in the mood for.

Thriller/Suspense. Nope.

Romance. Nope.

Action. Maybe.

The trailer started playing for Bullet Train. You’re not a huge fan of Brad Pitt, but you could digest his acting when you felt like it. Sure, why not? There was nothing else to do.

It was strange how you found yourself in Ladybug, Brad Pitt’s character. It’s not like you’re an assassin, but you were privy to misfortunes.

You stopped yourself and shook the notion off. No. This round of IVF was going to work. The trigger shot, the egg retrieval, and the transfer would be successful. Everything will work out. Your fate was not like Ladybug; instead, you’d be lucky.

~ Two Weeks Later ~

As you had anticipated, everything went smoothly with the rest of cycle two. And today was the big day: finding out if it worked.

Unfortunately, the only mishap was that Jungkook’s interview was at the same time as your appointment. He was so close to skipping it, but you threatened him with divorce and no sex if he didn’t go.

You had already come in two days earlier to give a blood sample and were confused about why you had to come in again so suddenly.

Maybe you should take it as a good sign, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up for fear that it wouldn’t be a positive outcome—you’d just expect the unexpected. If it happens—great. If it doesn’t, then you’d keep trying.

Two knocks on the door before it became ajar, and your doctor stuck their head in.

“Hello, hello,” they chirped, opening the door wider as they stepped in.

You sat in the chair against the wall, and they rolled out a stool, sitting before you. You’re anxious. You wished they’d spit it out already.

“Let me start with some good news,” they say, and you listen intently. “There is detection of hCG in your body.”

Your eyes scan their face for the bad news.

“And the not-so-bad news is, we’ll need you to come in every day for the next 8-10 days so we can monitor your levels.”

Your mouth is open, but no words or even thoughts are forming. Again, you didn’t want to celebrate too early.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” you ask, twiddling with your thumbs, your heart ready to burst with joy.

The doctor smiles. “It’s a good sign.”

You suck in your lips and suppress a smile. Your skin is warming up, and you only want to call Jungkook and tell him the good news.

But the little voice in your head was like a broken record, ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

“Today, we’ll monitor your levels, and as I said previously, we’d like you to come in every day until we feel like your levels are steady.”

You nodded in agreement.

The real question was, would you tell Jungkook or just wait? He’d want to know, right?

You had gone in every day to test your levels, and each time they increased, your heart would leap when you were given the results.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, weary of your frequent daily outings, but you told him you just needed fresh air and time to yourself, and there was nothing he needed to worry about.

You felt guilty for keeping it from him. He’s your husband, after all. In your mind, it would soften the devastation if this embryo transfer didn’t work. At least you would have had time to process it and then help Jungkook, and then the both of you wouldn’t be a mess simultaneously like the first go-around.

“Congratulations.”

You clutched onto the baby photo album against your chest as you turned around to find a sales clerk. “Oh–um, thank you.”

“Is there anything I can help you find?”

You shook your head no. This was so new that you didn’t know where to begin. “I’m just looking, thank you.”

She smiled warmly. “Well, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask,” she said before walking away.

The only thing you could think of was if Jungkook would be upset at you for waiting so long to tell him.

You took a moment to breathe before entering the apartment. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re greeted by Bam, who sniffs your bag. You kneeled before him, placing a kiss on his face.

“Where’s Jungkookie?” you whispered, ruffling his ears. Bam licks your face before leading you to him.

He’s sitting on the couch, legs crossed on the coffee table as you sit beside him. You reach over to kiss him.

“Did you have a nice little outing?” he asked, setting the remote down. Bam lays down by both your feet.

You hummed. “I got you a little present.”

His lips thinned, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Just–open it.”

Jungkook removes the tissue paper and takes a photo album with a note attached. “Looks like I’ll get to call you a new name…” he reads confusedly.

At the end of the note is an arrow. He flips open the album to see the word ‘daddy’ written at the top of the page and a black and white ultrasound photo.

“Is this–is this what I think it is?” He slowly turned to you, his eyes glistening.

You nod, suppressing your smile, and a tear runs down your cheek. “We’re pregnant.”

Jungkook closes his eyes and breathes out a deep sigh. “Is this why you’ve been going out so much?”

“Please don’t be mad at me. I just–I didn’t want us to be disappointed again. I wanted us to have a win, and last time was devastating cause I feel like it's always hard to come by wins–well, for me, at least. Then your whole low motility thing made you sad. When they called me to come in again, I didn't want to get my hopes up in case we didn't get pregnant, and then they kept calling me. Of course, I became more hopeful and hated that I was more hopeful, and then I felt guilty for keeping this from you, and now we're pregnant and finally have some space to breathe.”

You finished your rambling and were too busy to notice Jungkook grinning from ear to ear.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head no.

Jungkook holds your hands. "Baby, I'm not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” You thought he’d be furious.

He shook his head, placing his hand on your belly, gently rubbing it. “A little human is growing inside of you.”

You look down, then back up at him. “Wanna see the video?”

Jungkook flashes a smile and nods. You pull out your phone, scrolling to the ultrasound video you recorded. It plays, then zooms into the monitor. The tech points out the moving blob in the corner, and the sound of whooshing and thumping can be heard.

Just as listening to Jungkook’s heartbeat was always reassuring for you, hearing your baby’s heartbeat became another. It was proof that the baby did exist. It’s real. It’s not a figment of your imagination.

The video was on a loop, and you hadn’t realized you were still smiling at the screen. Jungkook holds your chin with his thumb and index finger, making you turn to him. “We did it.”

You hum. “We did.”

Week 20

(Five Months Pregnant)

To say you haven’t been worried sick since you found out you were pregnant would be a lie. You even bought a fetal monitor and made Jungkook figure out how to use it. You did everything by the book because you didn’t want anything to go wrong.

And searching the internet for what could be wrong with you didn’t help. It gave you more concern than anything.

Today was a big day.

You didn’t know if the flutters in your belly were the baby or because you were nervous. Maybe both.

Jungkook sat beside you on the bed, holding your hand–gripping actually.

You tapped him, telling him to let go.

“Sorry–I’m just nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” you chuckle. “At least you don’t have a full bladder. I hate this part of pregnancy.” Having a full bladder encourages better sound energy, says your internet search, and having a baby in your belly and a pea-sized bladder was a recipe for disaster.

The sonographer comes in and greets you both. She preps you, squeezing the cold gel onto your belly and moving the small electronic device from side to side.

This is the first time Jungkook has seen an ultrasound live. You hold out your hand, and he squeezes it. Both of you are glued to the screen.

“I’m going to do some measurements of the baby, and would you guys like to know the sex of the baby?”

The two of you look at each other and answer simultaneously, “Yes.”

She chuckles lightly, “Noted.”

She continues clicking her mouse, pointing out the features of your baby. “Here’s the baby’s heart.” She moves the device to a different section of your stomach. “Oh—they’re waving. See their little hand?”

You and Jungkook lean forward, squinting at the screen.

“It’s so tiny,” you pout and look at Jungkook.

“And now she has the hiccups. Can you feel it, mama?”

You both turn to each other. “She?”

“Congratulations, you’re having a little girl.”

Jungkook cups your face and kisses you. He pulls away, smiling and giggling. “Oh man—I’m gonna be outnumbered,” he jokes.

“Good—we’ll put you in your place so you can treat us like queens.”

He grins. “Always.”

Week 37

(Nine Months Pregnant)

“Hubby!”

You hear Jungkook yelling, ‘Yeah’ from the other room.

“I can’t reach the remote!” You tried for 5 minutes before calling out to Jungkook.

“Be right there!”

“And bring me pickles!”

Typically, you didn’t care about pickles, but this baby girl wanted pickles, specifically from the jar, during this pregnancy.

“‘Kay!”

A few moments later, Jungkook shows up with a jar of pickles and sets it on the nightstand. “You know you can download the TV app on your phone, so that way, you don’t need the remote.”

“Yeah, but that would require me to reach for my phone too.” Which was right next to the remote.

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled, handing you the remote. “How are my girls doing, hmm?” He plopped on the bed, gently laying his head on your belly.

“I need this baby to come out. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.”

Everything hurts—your back, your neck, your legs. And not to mention, your feet would swell if you didn’t take a walk around the block with Bam. You couldn’t even sleep on your back anymore, and if you accidentally woke up lying on your back, this humongous basketball stomach would ache like no tomorrow.

“Just a few more weeks, then she’ll be here.”

“Don’t you dare get me pregnant again!” you joked.

Now you understand what Yuna and Hyunie went through. Were you a one-and-done type of person? It sounded reasonable right now.

Jungkook propped himself on his elbows. “And what if our baby girl gets lonely? She’ll need a sibling.”

You grabbed the jar of pickles, attempted to open it, and then gave it to Jungkook to do the honors. “Nope—that’s why we have Bamie. He’s great entertainment for all the kiddos,” you reasoned.

Bam looks up when he hears his name but goes right back to ignoring the two of you.

He chuckled. “We’ll reevaluate once we get this whole parenting thing under wraps.”

You groaned after biting into the crisp and juicy pickle. “Nuh-uh,” you mumbled, wiping the juice down your chin. “Having your baby has limited my food options for nine months—that’s too long for me to go without sushi and cold-cut sandwiches.”

“You don’t even like cold-cut sandwiches.” Jungkook narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips at your ridiculousness.

“Yeah—but what if I wanted one? Then I don’t have that option, now do I?”

“I love you, you crazy, beautiful woman.”

“I love you too.”

“Tell you what…”

You’re about to grab another pickle from the jar. “Hmm?”

“I’ll sneak in sushi for your first meal after we have the baby.”

Your eyes widened, and you set the jar back down on the nightstand, then turned back to him. “Don’t let your mom find out. She will riot if my first meal isn’t seaweed soup.”

“I’m sure she’ll be distracted by the baby that she won’t even notice.”

“As long as I get sushi, I’ll be happy.”

“Jeon Jungkook—“ You gripped the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m going to kill you for doing this to me.” You’re delusional, and you’ve been in labor for too long.

Everything happened so quickly that you didn’t even have time to process it. Your water didn’t break like it does in TV shows or films. You woke up in the middle of the night with intense cramps, thinking you pulled a muscle. You hadn’t woken up Jungkook in case it was a false alarm, but after timing your contractions on your app—it was ‘go’ time. When you arrived at the hospital, got checked in, and saw the doctor, you were already 7cm dilated, and there wouldn’t be enough time to get an epidural. So—you were doing this au natural.

He gulps. “You got this—I believe in you.”

You sigh, throwing your head back against the pillow. You’ve been pushing for an hour, and nothing has progressed. Everyone keeps telling you, ‘You’re doing great,’ but you don’t feel like it. Your hair is stuck to your face because you’ve been sweating profusely. All those mom influencers you’ve seen on TikTok and Instagram were all liars. How did they look so cute while giving birth?

“Kook—you have to do this for me. You have to push out this baby. I can’t do it.” You don’t even bother to look at him. Instead, you focus on breathing because you can feel another contraction coming.

Jungkook chuckles lightly and stands, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “You know, if I could do it, I would.”

“I know—I’m—I’m so tired.”

He cups your face. “Just focus on me. On our baby girl, and nothing else. Okay? That’s all that matters right now.”

The doctor looks at the monitor. “Okay, are you ready to push again?”

You’re scared–scared you can’t do this.

And you’ve been through a lot of shit in your life, so you thought you’ve always been tough and could handle anything, and at this point, you were testing your limits.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, mentally telling yourself, ‘You got this.’

“Okay, mama. You have to push as hard as you can.”

You can feel the tension building and know it’s time to do your best. Jungkook is helping you hold your leg back while you hold the other. There’s a burning sensation; everything feels so tight as you push.

“You’re doing great, Mom. I can see the baby’s head.”

Jungkook stops to peer at what the doctor’s seeing. He sucks in his lips. He wants to say something but stops himself.

“Come on–keep going. Keep pushing. Her head is almost out.”

You groan loudly and grip your legs as you push with all your might. And finally, there’s some relief in the tension that was building.

“You did it, mom. The head is out.”

Jungkook looks again. “Oh–this is so weird.” He tilts his head. He’s in awe and bemused by everything pregnancy and labor-related.

“Kook–you’re not helping!”

He clears his throat. “I mean, baby–she’s so beautiful.”

“What does she look like?” you ask, resting quickly against the pillow.

“Really red,” he says, “but she has cute, chubby cheeks.”

“She does?”

He nods and looks back at you.

“Alright, mama. The hardest part is getting the shoulders out, but the rest is a breeze once it's out. You got this.”

You sit up again, holding onto your legs. The doctor rechecks the monitor to assess when the next contraction is coming.

“Let’s have this baby,” she says.

Jungkook lets go of your leg to kiss your cheek and reassure you. “I love you.”

You nod, gripping your legs back further into your chest. And when the doctor says, ‘push,’ you hold back a wail, pushing with everything you have.

The doctor encourages you to keep pushing and says how close she is to almost being out. It seems like the longest few minutes of your life, but when you finally hear the small cry of your baby girl, it’s like you find the missing piece of the puzzle, and it fits perfectly into the big picture.

“Do you want to cut the cord?” The doctor asks Jungkook. He nods in response and takes the scissors, cutting the umbilical cord.

Your baby girl is taken by a few nurses to get cleaned up, and Jungkook turns his attention to you.

“I knew you could do it, baby.” He kisses you before attending to a request of one of the nurses.

Honestly, everything was a blur. From the time you began feeling contractions in the middle of the night until now. It didn’t seem real. It’s almost like a dream. But alas, Jungkook places your baby girl into your arms, and all's right with the world.

Her little hands. Her little nose. Those chubby cheeks. Her pouty little lips. She’s perfect.

Everything you could’ve asked for and more.

“Meet Jeon Iseul,” Jungkook says to his mom.

His mom coos at her granddaughter. “Oh, my goodness. Look at how precious she is. I must be the luckiest grandma in the world.”

Jungkook passes Iseul to his mom and cradles her as she walks to your bedside. She leans over. “Psst–I brought some sushi for you.” You smile and hold in a giggle. “But first, seaweed soup, then sushi.”

You nod in agreement.

Your mother-in-law sits in a chair nearby, gazing at her granddaughter. Jungkook sits on the bed as you two watch them.

“Pinch me,” Jungkook says.

And you never miss an opportunity to pinch his nipple. He flinches, muttering an ‘ow.’

“You said to pinch you.”

“Yeah, but not there,” he leans closer, “and not in front of my mom.”

You giggle. “Sorry, I can’t help it. You were asking for it.” You scoot closer to Jungkook, wrapping your arm around him, and he reciprocates. “It feels like it took forever to get here, hmm?”

He hums. “Yeah, but it was worth it, right?” He leans in, kissing your forehead. “And goddamn, baby—”

You perk up in confusion.

“I have so much respect for you.”

“What? Why?”

“You pushed out a 7-pound baby and still look so good after it.”

“Shut up. I look and feel gross. I desperately need to shower.”

“No–this is the look of a woman who can do anything. I’d never want to mess with you,” he teases.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We’re in this together, right?”

“Forever and ever,” you say.

Throughout the day, you and your little family had visits from friends. Indie and Hani met their newest little best friend and were obsessed with her, wanting to give her hugs and kisses and pretend to play.

After Mama Jeon made sure you drank your seaweed soup, Jungkook said he’d walk her out and made sure she got to her taxi.

There was a moment of stillness. One you didn’t get to have yet with Iseul. You held her in your arms, scanning over her little features again like you had been doing all day. Her little face was crinkling, forming a frown and then a smile. She squirmed as you lightly stroked her cheek.

As you continued to fawn over your little one, you couldn’t help but think about how much you loved her already. You didn’t even know her personality or what kind of person she’d become, but in your heart, you knew that wouldn’t stop you from wanting to give her the world. Give her everything you didn’t have. Protect her at all costs. Shield her as best as possible and give her the resources, love, and advice to grow up to be anything she wants. You’d do anything for her.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your daze. You look up to see the most unexpected person. Someone you hadn’t seen in a few years. Your mother.

She stands at the door, waiting for you to tell her it’s okay to come in, but you don’t say anything. You’re stunned she’s even here. You cradle Iseul closer to you, wanting to protect her with every ounce of your body.

Your mom clears her throat and holds up a bag. “I, um–I brought you some seaweed soup.”

Now, you’re wondering how she even knew. Maybe Jungkook’s mom was still in contact? You know for sure it wasn’t Jungkook.

You’re silent, unable to form any words. What does she even want from you? To be involved with you and your daughter’s life? And now, of all times?

She walks in, setting the bag of food down on a table. She doesn’t come any closer. You can see her eyeing you, then Iseul.

And again, your first instinct is to protect Iseul from any harm.

“I wanted to come here and apologize.” She looks down at her folded hands, then back at you. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t a good mother nor a nice person to you or your father, and I’m not expecting you to let me into your life or your baby’s–”

“That’s not happening–” you stress, cutting her off.

She purses her lips and nods. “Understood.”

“Anything else?”

She shakes her head no. “I wish you, Jungkook, and the baby all the best.”

Your mother leaves quickly without saying anything else. You feel like an absolute ass, but you need to set boundaries for her and yourself. She made her choice not to be in your life. She doesn’t get to choose when she can come and go as she pleases. That’s not how it works.

Iseul begins to stir. You rock and shush her while in your arms. Tears are welling up, threatening to fall.

“Well, you’re not crying alone if your baby is crying too.”

You look up to see Min Yoongi. You wipe away the tears pooling in the corner and sniffle as he approaches you.

Clearing your throat, you ask, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you in the middle of filming?”

He sets a gift bag in an empty chair before returning his attention to you. “I came to visit my girlfriend, then heard from Taehyung and Hyunie that you had your baby.”

You give him a look. “Girlfriend?”

He smiles, scratching his temple. “Yeah–Minji, your friend. We hit it off at your engagement party.”

You suppress your grin. “Well, thank you for stopping by to say hi to us. I’m glad you didn’t forget about me.”

Yoongi laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I could forget you.”

You scan him from head to toe. He carries himself differently. It was weird to see him happy, but you were glad he found someone who made him radiate golden rays of sunshine instead of his Grumpy Grandpa persona.

“Hey baby–sorry, I got caught up with my mom,” Jungkook says as he enters the room. “Oh–hey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi flashes a thin smile and a slight nod. “Well, that’s my cue.”

“No, no, stay,” Jungkook argues.

“I would, but I have to head out. Congratulations. She’s beautiful,” Yoongi remarks, patting Jungkook on the back before closing the door behind him.

Jungkook sits beside you and Iseul. “Did I miss a lot? I wasn’t gone for that long.”

You chuckle lightly. “You missed my mom too.”

His eyes widen and his mouth is wide open in astonishment. “I–are you okay?”

You shrug. “Yeah–better now that you’re here.”

“She didn’t say anything, did she?”

“We won’t worry about that right now,” you say.

All you wanted to focus on was you, Jungkook, Iseul, and the new chapter you’d all encounter together. You understood that parenthood and motherhood would bring new challenges and new fears, but as long as you and Jungkook fiercely loved one another and continued to fight for each other and protect Iseul, that was enough for you.

Your first morning at home as a family. The sun scantily peeking through the curtains, and the light whistling of snores from Jungkook. And, of course, Iseul, the newest addition, sleeping next to you in a bassinet. Bam is always close by, always on guard, ready to protect all of you, especially Iseul.

You were on your side, gazing at the man you loved.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, his eyes still closed.

“I’m fondly gazing.”

“It’s creepy,” he teases, peeking an eye open.

“I can leave,” you threaten, shifting out from under the covers, but Jungkook pulls you back against his chest.

"Nuh-uh, you're stuck with me, remember?" He kisses your shoulder.

You turn to lie on your back, staring at the ceiling.

"Everything okay?" Jungkook asks, entwining his hand with yours.

You hum, gazing over at him and Iseul, fast asleep.

It's more than okay.

It's perfect.

This.

You. Him. Iseul. Bam.

Us.

TIU Celebration - podcast episode, character asks, AMA, drabbles

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n

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seenoversundown · 2 months ago

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Amongst The Stars: Chapter Eight

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC)Warnings: Craig, pining, general feelings of self doubt, guilt Word Count: 4.4k Summary: Josh has always loved love, and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: Sorry this is so late! I had a crazy day at work. But, here we are. I am not gonna lie to you, I don’t love this chapter. Not because of the content, or because I’m unhappy with it. But, I don’t love it because I know what happens next :) Again, forgive any weird formatting. Desktop Tumblr hates Josh, you heard it here first, folks!

“Hold you in my arms, I just wanted to hold you in my arms” Starlight - Muse

Being this excited about getting my things from Craig’s house feels wrong. I threw a years-long relationship away. I should be at least a little bit upset, but I can’t find it in myself to care. My only regret is that Willa can’t be here with me to help pack. She had some work thing and couldn’t get out of it since everything moved so quickly. I wasn’t anticipating Josh being so willing to help, but I had to jump on the chance when it was offered. It has been an absolute pain in my ass not having access to my clothes or my entire stock of art supplies. I haven’t even had my sketchbook. It was the one thing I meant to grab before heading to Willa’s house, but I managed to forget it. Before I get too into my feelings about it, my phone buzzes, and I know it’s Josh. I grab my canvas bag and head out the door without even pulling it out to check.

When he notices me hit the bottom step, he scrambles out of the truck and walks around to the passenger’s side.

“Hello, dear,” he gives me a shy smile as he opens the door. “Do you treat all your guests this way?” I laugh, jumping up and settling into the seat. He leans against the door, watching as I buckle myself in.

“Only the ones I like,” he winks, shutting the door before I can say anything else.

Why is that attractive? Get it together; he’s just helping you move.

He walks back around to the driver’s side and hops in. “I really appreciate this, you know.” “It’s nothing. Friends help each other out.” Right, right. Friends.

“Wanna put the address in?” he asks, handing me his phone.

I’m slightly taken aback; Craig would have rather died than hand me his phone for anything. I opened Apple Maps and typed in my old address before returning the phone to him. He fiddles around with the music app for a moment before putting the truck in reverse.

“I hope you’re okay with pop music,” he looks at me from the corner of his eye, “It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine.”

I smile as the opening notes to “Feather” filter through the stereo.

“Perfectly fine by me. Your song choice is weirdly appropriate,” I laugh.

“What do you mean?” “This song played in my car as I left Hobby Lobby the first day we met. My ex begged me to turn it off. I should have taken it as an omen.”

He barks out a laugh, and I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just that’s the first day I ever heard this song. It came on shuffle when I went home, and I immediately fell in love with it. Added it to the playlist at my brother’s bar and everything just to piss people off.” I can’t help the wide smile that makes its way to my face.

“Hell of a coincidence.”

“Indeed it is.”

We continue our ride in comfortable silence, letting the GPS guide us toward my old life with Craig. The end of my old life with Craig. Joy swells in my chest at the very thought of being completely done.

Josh enters the apartment complex's parking lot and parks in the first free spot he sees. He shuts his car off, and his eyes soften as he looks at me. “I’m ready whenever you are. We’ve got all day, so if you need a minute to prepare yourself, take it.”

My heart squeezes.

Josh continually amazes me with the care he shows those around him.

“I really appreciate that,” I say, patting the hand he placed on the center console between us. “But I’m ready. I want to be done.”

He nods, unbuckles his seatbelt, and practically sprints out of the car to get my door for me. “You are entirely too sweet,” I laugh, unbuckling my seatbelt and taking his hand as he helps me down. “Nah, I just try to be a gentleman when possible.”

Why is that attractive?

I internally shake myself. I don’t need to have these thoughts about Josh. He’s a friend who is doing me a simple favor. Even if he was into it, I can’t start a new relationship immediately after leaving Craig. How would I know it’s real and not some weird rebound situation?

I couldn’t do that to Josh or me.

“Get stuck in your head again?” Josh squeezes my hand to pull me out of my spiral.

“Mmm, yeah. Thank you.”

“Well, no time like the present.” Josh moves a hand to my lower back to guide me toward the apartment.

Just another show of how caring he is.

“I’ll warn you, Craig can be absolutely terrible. Just ignore whatever he may have to say to you.”

He flashes me an easy smile. “Oh, I’m not worried about him one bit. I’m here to help you, so let him act however he wants.”

“If you say so,” I suck in a deep breath, then begin the slow ascent to the apartment.

“I’m sorry that you kind of have to help me pack, too,” I fold my three-hundredth worn-out band tee and place it in the cardboard box in front of me. “The breakup happened so fast that I couldn’t pack anything before leaving.”

“Quinn, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m happy to be here? If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t. So, please stop apologizing.”

I shake my head and roll my bottom lip through my teeth.

“What's up?” Josh asks.

“Nothing; you're just so different from what I'm used to.”

“Well, hopefully, I can continue to surprise you.”

“Oh,” I giggle, “I am certain you will.”

Josh grabs the full box from me and tapes it up before scribbling “Shirts” on it and setting it aside. “I’ll take a load of boxes down to the truck in just a minute.”

Our conversation is interrupted by a minor crash outside the bedroom door. I roll my eyes. Of course, he’s throwing stuff again. Why couldn't he just stay out of our way? I immediately turn to apologize to Josh; it's not fair that he’s being subjected to Craig’s moods. But I notice that he’s walking toward the door.

“Hey, Josh..”

He ignores my warning and opens the bedroom door.

“Hey man, can you keep it down? We’re trying to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, but we can’t do that if you're throwing shit around and distracting us.”

I creep up behind Josh, peering over his shoulders at Craig. I know I shouldn't press this, but I have to see the look on his face when Josh calls him out. I see a faint look of recognition cross Craig’s face. That’s strange.

Craig didn’t initially spot us when we came in. I assume he was in the bathroom, but he definitely doesn’t look happy to see us now. His face contorted in rage, and I grabbed Josh’s arm, preparing for whatever he was going to say. I brace myself, knowing how Craig can be, and I can only hope that Josh is ready to face it as well.

“This is real fucking nice, Quinn,” Craig bypasses Josh altogether, shifting his head to make eye contact with me. “What?” “It’s real nice that you bring the dude you’ve been cheating on me with over here to help you move out. What’s he gonna do, pack all your shit up into his truck, and y’all are gonna move in together like some kind of–” He cuts himself off. “Some kind of what?” Josh straightens his back and speaks directly to Craig.

“Some kind of. Some kind of U-HAUL LESBIANS??” I burst out in an ill-timed fit of giggles at the sheer absurdity of it all. My giggles cause Josh to chuckle, and I see Craig’s face go beet red at the perceived slight against him. “You do realize that to be ‘U-haul lesbians,’ both of us would have to be women?” Josh says between bouts of laughter. “And neither of us are.” Recognizing that Craig has limited patience, I decided to try to smooth things over before Craig could try to hit Josh. “Also, not sure if you forgot, I’m moving in with Willa.” Craig opens and closes his mouth a few times. “As friends,” I add in to stop his floundering. I see Josh roll his eyes at my addition, clearly understanding what an absolute moron Craig can be.

Sometimes, I daydream about what my life would be like if I never got involved with Craig. Would I be happy? Would I have met Josh organically? Would we be together? That’s ridiculous, Quinn. Why would you even be worried about that? He is your friend and nothing more. I scrub one hand down my face, trying to will those thoughts away. It’s too soon; my heart is still, for some reason, vaguely battered by the messy breakup with Craig. Though, at this point, I don’t know if my heart is battered because of Craig or because of the years I wasted with him.

“It was lovely to see you, Greg. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Josh punctuates his point by slamming the door in Craig’s face. I let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Josh. You didn’t have to send him away. I could have done that.” “It’s no trouble, darling,” he says, placing a hand on my back and rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. “I think you’ve dealt with him enough.”

I lean into his touch, accepting his small comfort before quickly remembering myself and pulling back. “Let’s just get this done and get out of here.” “Whatever you need, darling.”

That small sentence, whatever you need, darling, may be the death of me. This behavior comes naturally to Josh; it’s plain to see. He was born to be a light in the world, and he is slowly proving that to me over, and over, and over again. I only wish I could accept his light without feeling some type of misguided guilt. I owe Craig nothing, so why is he still dictating my feelings? Why is he still hindering the way I interact with other people? I pull myself out of my thoughts and begin surveying the room.

“We really don’t have much left. I’m choosing to be the bigger person and leaving him the furniture because I don’t want him to have anything.” “Mm,” Josh adds a noncommittal noise to let me know he’s still listening. “What?” “You’re just a better person than I am.” I scoff, practically begging him to explain himself. He is sunshine incarnate, there is no way I am a better person than he is. “Well, if I were you, I’d be removing every single thing I paid for from this house. I’d tell him to figure it out.” I let out a small chuckle. “Oh, I could never do that; that’s horrible. He can’t get ahead, should he ever get his shit together, if I start him off on his own with nothing.” “See, you’re a better person than me. In my eyes, he made his bed, and he can lie in it,” he crosses his arms over his chest, “Or.. not. But, you know what I mean.”

His tough facade cracks as he starts laughing, which sends me over the edge. I fall into his side as we dissolve into a fit of giggles, and I feel his arm wrap around my shoulder, pulling me closer. I lean my head against his shoulder, trying to reel in my laughter. I shift my head to look at his face, taking in how his eyes crinkle up and his dimples are on full display. The laughter dies on my lips as I take in his pearly white smile and his plush, pink lips. I pull back from him like I’ve been burned. Too close for comfort, get it together. I watch as the smile drops from his face, and he clears his throat, walking over to the boxes we set in the corner.

“Well, I’m going to take these down to the truck,” he pats the top box on the stack. “I, uh, I can help with that.” “No, no! Please finish up here, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Uh, okay..”

I watch as he heaves the first box and opens the bedroom door, revealing Craig eavesdropping.

“Oh, hey, man.” “I just wanted to talk to Quinn for a minute.” Josh turns to me to gauge my level of comfort. Just another way he’s perfect. Stop that. I meet his eye and slightly nod. He huffs a small breath out of his nose as his face falls, just a hare.

“Of course,” Josh steps aside and lets Craig enter the room.

Once Josh exits the room, Craig stands in front of me, picking at his cuticles. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he refuses to look at me. I give him a sad look, knowing that he is in denial and will not take well to the rest of this conversation.

“You know that I do, Craig,” I start, gently patting his arm. “No, I really don’t,” He flinches away from me, and my heart cracks a little bit more. “How can you not? We have done nothing but argue for the past few weeks,” I pause, “Actually, it’s been longer than that, and you know it.” He scoffs, refusing to meet my eyes and instead choosing to look around the now sparsely decorated room we once shared. “So, you’re just taking everything?” “I’m leaving the furniture. But, yeah. Pretty much everything else. I either made or bought all the decor. So..” “I’m supposed to just look at white walls?” “Look, Craig. What is this? What are you trying to do?” He kicks his foot against the rug that our - his - bed sits on top of. “I’m trying to stop you from making the worst mistake of your life,” his eyes, filled with determination, whip up to mine. “You’re trying to what?” “You heard me, Quinn. We love each other, and you’re throwing it all away.” I want to roll my eyes all the way back in my head, but instead, I fix Craig with a tight-lipped smile. “I think that you should be quiet now, Craig.” “Why? Are you starting to realize I’m right, and you don’t want to think about it too hard?” “No, Craig. I’m starting to get mad.”

I turn away from him, trying to calm myself down. I look at the bare walls of our bedroom, expecting to feel some form of loss, but instead, I just feel determined. I know in my blood and very bones that I am making the right choice. I let my determined anger lead my actions.

“You’re getting mad?” “YES, CRAIG,” I shout, “I’m ANGRY. I’m furious that you keep putting me through this shit. I have given you everything, and you still don’t think it’s enough. It’s never been enough for you, and it will never be enough.” “It’s always been enough, Quinn.” “Well, you’ve never shown that, and I cannot keep begging you to,” I hang my head and sigh, “I will not keep begging you. I don’t want to keep begging you to. So, we have nothing left to say to each other. This is done, there’s no salvaging it.” Craig flinches as if I’ve slapped him, and I may as well have. He’s always been less than stellar - understatement of the century - at handling his emotions, so I know that that statement likely felt like a physical blow in his mind.

“What do you mean there’s no salvaging it?” He says as he takes a step closer to me, clenching his fist. I step back, but the tension in the room deflates as the bedroom door flies open, revealing Josh and his windswept curls. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him: Craig, with his fist held tight, creeping toward me. “They said what they said, Craig,” Josh interjects. “Didn’t ask you, Josh.”

Wait a minute, I didn’t introduce them. Craig knows the name Josh, but they’ve never met. The wheels start turning in my head as I look between them. They’re caught in a stalemate, staring each other down.

“I wasn’t aware you knew each other..” Craig looks at Josh, then me, his face morphing into something cruel. “Oh, you didn’t tell her?” I roll my eyes at Craig’s slip-up, knowing he only does it to hurt me. “No, I didn’t tell them. We don’t exactly talk about you.” “So, you talk often, then?” “I’d say so, but never about you.” A lie.

I quickly turn and head toward the boxes stacked in the corner. As I move to pick one up, Josh rushes to my side. “What are you doing? I can help,” he says, placing his hand on my wrist. “The testosterone is so high in here, I can smell it. I don’t really care to be around it, so I’m taking my stuff to your truck.”

He looks properly chastised, opening and closing his mouth, trying to formulate an apology. I’m not sure if I care to hear an apology right now. From either of them. They’ve been keeping secrets from me and bickering like old maids about it. I couldn’t really care one way or the other for an apology or an explanation. I just want to get my things and go. Josh nods his head and uses his thumb to rub a soothing circle along the inside of my wrist. I struggle to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine. I meet his eyes and let a small smile creep to my face. He pulls his hand back from my wrist and gives me a shy smile in return.

“Are you kidding?” Craig practically shouts, breaking the peaceful moment between Josh and me.

I clear my throat, fixing him with a glare. “I don’t think you’re the one who gets to ask questions right now. I actually think you, both of you, owe me an explanation.” My annoyance bubbles to the surface again. I can’t believe Josh kept this from me. Craig, yes. Josh? My stomach feels slimy at the thought. It feels wrong that my new friend would keep secrets from me when I’ve been an open book to him. If I ignore the amount of misplaced pining I've done over him. It’s not pining; it’s normal to think about your friends. “Quinn, believe me,” Josh starts, “I didn’t want to keep this from you. But, I figured it would hurt you more than help you to know that Craig came to see me at Hobby Lobby.” My eyes slide from Josh over to Craig and I cock an eyebrow, asking him to continue. “Uh, yeah. I did.” “And he came into my brother’s bar,” Josh adds, hoping that being honest now will save him from my ire. Craig looks over at him and rolls his eyes. “Telling Quinn all your secrets isn’t going to make her like you.” “I don’t care if they like me, they deserve honesty.” “You didn’t seem to think so when you told me not to mention it.”

Did Josh really decide to keep this secret? I could see Craig, but it just hurts worse knowing that Josh chose this. Would Craig have told me if Josh hadn’t sworn him to secrecy? Thoughts rattle around in my head as I try to keep the hurt from flashing across my face. I slowly blink a few times. Am I taking this too hard? No, Quinn – You are allowed to feel your feelings. Yeah, well why does it feel so annoying then? Pulling myself out of my internal struggle, I lock eyes with Craig. “Elaborate. Right now,” I huff.

I listen in stunned silence as it tumbles out of Craig’s mouth that he basically stalked Josh and harassed him at work and again - allegedly by accident, though I’m not sure if I believe that - at the tavern that his brother owns. I can’t help the shock that shows on my face as he elaborates on the fact that he talked down on me and Josh came to my defense. I glance over to Josh, while Craig finishes his story, allowing my eyes to trace over his features. I catalog the slope of his nose, and the spot I know a dimple pops out in when he smiles. I can’t really be mad at him, I think as my eyes get caught on the shape of his top lip, He’s too cute to be mad at. I shake my head, dispelling the thought. I should be angry with Josh. He may not have sought Craig out, but he certainly kept it a secret from me when he had ample time to tell me.

“This is insane, you know that right?” I look between Josh and Craig, ensuring that they realize I am talking to both of them, “In what world would you think that keeping this secret from me was a good idea?”

I see the regret immediately flash across Josh’s face, Craig following shortly behind.

“You’re right, Quinn,” Josh Starts, “I should have told you, but I didn’t want to get in the middle of your relationship.”

“Littlelateforthat,” Craig huffs under his breath, causing me to roll my eyes.

I turn to Craig, raising an eyebrow, “Well, do you have anything to add.”

Craig simply shakes his head and leaves the room, putting an end to our conversation. I sigh, turning away from Josh and moving to pick up my final few boxes.

“Whatever’s left in here is staying,” I say in a clipped tone, hoisting a box into my arms. I’m annoyed with Josh. I’m annoyed at the fact that I’m not more annoyed. It hurts that Josh didn’t tell me, but it hurts more knowing that it doesn’t matter. I was going to break up with Craig regardless. Hell, Portland’s a small town, they likely would have met each other eventually. But that should have been on my terms. And it shouldn’t have been a secret. “That’s fine,” Josh responds and picks up the last two boxes, following me down to his truck.

The drive back to mine and Willa’s apartment is frosty to say the least. Josh has kept his metaphorical tail between his legs since the confrontation with Craig earlier. The only sounds that pass between us are the sounds of the radio and the occasional GPS direction.

When we get back to my apartment, he wordlessly puts his truck in park and jumps out to open my door for me. We carry each box up to the apartment and into my (new) bedroom in complete and utter silence. When Josh has dropped the final box on the floor of my room, he finally heaves out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t want to keep it a secret.” He ducks his head, picking at his cuticles.

“I believe you, it was just a shock.” He looks up at me with the most hopeful look in his eyes and I crack. I can’t stay mad at him. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course, Josh,” I smile, “But, I really should get started on unpacking.”

Josh nods his head, “Need help?”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you, but I’ll walk you out.”

We make small talk all the way to the door, and I open it to usher him outside.

“I really appreciate your help today. I couldn’t have done it without you, truly.”

He gives me one of his dimple-popping smiles and pulls me in for a hug.

“Anything for you, dear,” he whispers into my ear, crushing me against him.

It would be so easy to just… before I can rethink it, I turn my head and capture his lips with mine. It lasts just a second, a ghost of a kiss, before I pull back. What the fuck have I done? I quickly put a little bit of distance between us, taking in Josh’s wide eyes. “I’m so–” before I can finish my apology, Josh closes the distance between us and presses his lips against mine. I let out a small gasp and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sucking my top lip between his. My hands completely of their own volition wind their way into his unruly curls. He lets out a small Mmph at the feeling. His hands find my hips and pull me closer against him as his tongue traces against my lips, begging for entry. As if he’s searching for any possible way to get closer, closer, closer.

Who am I to deny him?

I sigh, giving him what he wants, and our tongues tangle together.

I lightly tug at his hair and he lets out an almost growl as he lets his hands gently, tentatively, roam my body.

His right hand trails up my back before coming to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me closer, closer, closer.

He backs me against the wall next to the door and pulls his lips from mine, before moving to kiss down my neck.

“Fuck,” I hiss as his teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot.

No. But actually, FUCK.

“Josh,” I start.

“Mm,” He ignores me, continuing to press open-mouthed kisses and nips along my heated flesh.

What am I doing?

I shove him away from me.

“What the fuck is this?” I say more to myself than Josh.

“You need to go. I need you to leave immediately.”

“I, uh, I,” He stammers.

“No! Leave. Now! And please, just… don’t contact me. Clearly we’ve done enough.”

I watch as he nods his head and leaves.

Was Craig right? Is Josh the reason our relationship went to shit? Am I the one in the wrong?

I can’t stop the guilt and thoughts from swirling through my head as I spend the rest of the night settling into my new home.

I let the guilt eat at me even hours later, as I tuck myself under my comforter and ignore Willa’s frantic knocks on my door.

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ahundredtimesover · 2 years ago

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Belong (3.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, oral, penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 7.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Oceans Apart by Secret Nation; Let it Go by James Bay; Already Gone by Sleeping At Last; All I Want by Kodaline || Playlist 🎶

A/N: This one’s a pretty hard one. Please take care and reach out to anyone if it gets too much. So Far Away and Snooze would be good companions for this chapter as well.

7 years ago

You stand in front of the mirror and gaze at the woman looking back at you. Donned in a blush dress, pearl earrings, and a cream-colored scarf as a headband on your hair, you think you look pretty great. Elegant is a word you could use; you always took after your mom’s style and people described her as such. Some of your instructors think the same, but all that matters is what one specific man thinks.

Your phone beeps to tell you he’s arrived, so you grab your bags and head out the door.

“Going out again?” Your father’s voice stops you, but you sense only curiosity in his tone.

“Yup, and I’m sleeping over at Tae’s,” you lie; he’s the perfect alibi, really. “Bye!”

You turn away and skip outside, towards the car that’s parked across the street. Routinely, Yoongi drives away immediately in case your father decides to check who’s picking you up, and it’s on the first stoplight right as you exit your neighborhood that you turn to the man next to you and kiss his cheek.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you smile.

Yoongi’s eyes trace your face and your body as he smiles back. “Happy anniversary, jagi. You look really beautiful.”

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Your boyfriend usually compliments you when his head’s buried in your neck since he tends to get shy, so when he says those words while he gazes at you, you can’t help but feel flustered, an effect he just has on you.

It’s been a year since you both admitted your feelings for each other and you get to celebrate that today with a stay-in movie afternoon and dinner at the restaurant where he took you on that first fancy date.

Yoongi says he was supposed to cook for you for lunch but decided instead to go to the cafe you went to after that spin-the-bottle make-out session.

“It’s where it all started,” he says as he pulls up at the place.

“Where it started was actually Jungkook’s apartment,” you correct him.

“Technically, it started in the gym where we had our game,” he counters.

“Right. Where you got hit by the ball because you were so smitten by me,” you tease.

“Yah,” he pouts. “You have broken my trust because you told Taehyung about that.”

“It makes me giddy, I couldn’t help it,” you giggle.

You go through lunch with your usual stories and banter and then head to his apartment, which looks much cozier than you remember it being 2 days ago when you were last here. There’s a vase with marigolds on the dining table, throw pillows on the floor, and comfy blankets on his tiny couch. There’s even a popcorn machine and mood lights that he got for the occasion.

“Baby, what’s all this?” You smile, pulling him close.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he shrugs. “Just thought I’d clean up a bit.”

“It’s perfect,” you say, embracing him for a deep kiss.

You make yourself comfortable on the couch as you curl into him. You finally decide your choice of movie to be Love and Other Drugs, which makes you bawl your eyes out, and that’s followed by Yoongi’s choice of Love and Basketball, which makes him quite emotional.

Once you’ve both sorted your feelings out and kissed until you ran out of breath, you head to the restaurant for dinner and eat something fancier than what you had the last time. When Yoongi asks for the bill, the server informs him that one Mr. Min has settled it.

“My dad?” He wonders out loud.

“Yes,” the server replies. “We just called him as instructed and it’s all been paid for. He wishes both of you a happy anniversary.”

Yoongi smiles to himself and sends a message to his old man. A simple thank you would do even if there’s more for him to say.

“That’s so sweet,” you gush. “I’ll visit him tomorrow and give him the biggest hug. I just love how supportive he is.”

Yoongi agrees and thinks of the times his dad let him off work early or not at all to be with you when you’d visit or when he’d go to Seoul for you. He remembers the small smiles and words of encouragement when you’re mentioned. He remembers all the ways his dad has shown that he’s happy for his son who’s found someone who loves him the way you do. Yet even then, there’s a bit of sadness at the thought.

“He’s like that with my brother and his girlfriend, too,” Yoongi shares. “I think he’s just happy that we get to have a relationship like this, you know? Maybe it reminds him of what he lost. He constantly tells us not to screw it up.”

His mom grew up at a farm and worked hard at their family’s business. But she always dreamed of the big city life as a career woman and always wanted to be somewhere at the center of things. She wanted the fast pace and glitz and glamor and little luxuries that she couldn’t have here. She put those desires on hold when she met his dad; fell in love immediately and made a life here that seemed to override whatever dreams she had.

He did his best - worked extremely hard at the shop, built her a house she wanted, took her to Seoul regularly for the thrill she sought. She did his best, too - returned his love and affection, took care of the family they created, and stayed every time he asked her to, even if she wanted more. He didn’t want to let go of his life here. Neither did he want to lose her, but he eventually did, after the last time he asked her to stay and she said she no longer couldn’t.

Yoongi doesn’t know why his dad didn’t do more, but then again, he thinks he shouldn’t have asked her to stay that first time. If she wanted him at the end of it all, then losing her temporarily would’ve been better than trapping her in this life where she wasn’t completely happy. Being with someone while dreaming of another - better - life just isn’t sustainable, and Yoongi wishes he was old enough to tell that to his old man.

“Well, if we’re adding to your dad’s joy, then that's wonderful,” you say. “At least we’re not the only ones happy.”

You finish the sumptuous meal and head back to Yoongi’s apartment to continue the celebration. There’s a gift you want to give, you say, and he says that so does he.

You sit on the floor with him and retrieve the Yamazaki whiskey from your bag to his confusion then delight, saying that you snuck it out of your dad’s liquor cabinet and it’s one of many.

“This isn’t the gift though,” you say, as he pours each of you a glass. “This is.”

He opens the box that you hand him and softly smiles. He stares at it for a while before feeling the material, smelling it, and then unfolding it.

It’s the vintage Allen Iverson jersey he said he’s been saving up for, and you’re glad that your few months’ salary from acting and being the assistant to the production assistant of the show you did an extra for were enough to afford this. The way his fingers trace the threading and the hem tells you he likes it.

“I love it when you talk about basketball even if I don’t always understand it,” you smile. “I hope you keep sharing it with me.”

“Thank you, jagi,” he whispers, feeling like there’s more to say that he can’t find words for, so he kisses you tenderly instead. He knows he’ll be wearing this as often as possible. “Now, I went a bit personal with my gift,” he says, placing a box on your lap.

You excitedly open it to find a floral silk scarf that looks incredibly elegant, and you squeal in joy at how pretty it looks.

“Baby, this is so beautiful. I’ve been looking for something like this.”

“Good,” he giggles. “There’s one more thing, though.”

You remove wrapping paper and see a notebook underneath. The cover looks pretty ordinary, but you feel the tears form once you flip through the pages.

It’s like his diary for the past year, with as little as one-sentence entries to as long as a whole page.

We watched A Moment to Remember for the 5th time and she cried again. Wish I got to hug her

She fell asleep on video call and talked in her sleep. Cute

She spent our whole drive to Busan talking. Some stories she’s told me already but it’s okay. I can listen to her talk everyday and not get bored

I arrived at her apartment late and she was upset with me even though she kept denying it. I knew because she didn’t kiss me until the second hour. But I should’ve kissed her sooner

She rushed from her filming to get to my graduation on time. I wish I knew the right words to express how much it meant to me. I’ll always remember it

I told her I love her first and she giggled. Yah, I couldn’t stop smiling!

You use the notebook to cover your tear-stained face; you’re ugly crying by now and you’re too shy to show him, but he’s why you’re like this in the first place.

“Jagi, that gift is supposed to make you laugh because it’s cringey,” he says, pulling your arm so he could see you. “Is it really that embarrassing?”

“What are you saying?” You cry some more. “It’s the sweetest thing ever. Baby, you don’t tell me these things.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “I get shy and weirded out so I just write them down. Being away from you is hard and I don’t know if I get to express enough when we’re apart and even when you’re here, so… yeah.”

“Baby, you express enough in other ways,” you assure him. “But this is so, so special. I will read this everyday and imagine it in your voice and your soft, shy smile.”

Yoongi groans. “Just don’t show Taehyung, okay? That’s a super-secret, for-your-eyes-only, once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

You laugh at the way he pouts, and it prompts you to position yourself on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You won’t be doing this for our second anniversary?” You ask.

“Well, my plan is to say more this time,” he mumbles, “and not just write them. I… I know you need to hear the words, too.”

“However you want to say them is however I need to know them,” you respond, kissing him deeply. “You love me, that’s what matters. Whether I hear it or read it, as long as I feel it,” you continue.

You nibble his lip as the tension starts to build. With desire in your eyes, you kiss his cheek down to his jaw. “And I really wanna feel it.”

The words affect Yoongi immediately, and he pushes against your clothed cunt to tease. “Well, do you feel it?”

You giggle your yes in his ear, a sweet sound he likes hearing no matter how turned on he is.

Yoongi lays you on the floor, ensuring there’s a blanket to rest your head on. Propped up on one arm, he kisses you, soft and teasing the way he likes, while he unbuttons your dress. He cups your cheek like he always does, his thumb detouring to your mouth for you to suck gently, and his dick throbs at the sight. But he pushes on - pulling down your bra, flicking your nipple, and smirking when your back arches already when he hasn’t even done that much yet.

His fingers reach your sopping cunt and they play you like his favorite game - skillfully, confidently, revealing that cockiness that only comes out when he does something he knows he’s good at.

You smile through the pleasure, pulling him for a kiss in between your moans. You try to reach for his dick, mumbling how you want it in your mouth so he switches positions, kneeling to your side to be swallowed by you while still pleasuring you with his hand.

The sounds you make are obscene while he maintains his groans and hushed curses. He just wants to ingrain this image in his mind to remind him of how perfect you are for each other. The way you make each other feel isn’t something that can be replicated. Even with barely any words, he knows that you know how he feels, especially once he shifts again to enter inside you now, letting you feel how hard you’ve made him.

It’s slow but intentional at first. He wants it intimate, with him hovering over you and kissing down your jaw. But as your moans intensify, so does his pleasure, so he gets on his knees and pulls your legs apart, giving him the perfect angle to thrust into you roughly.

“Fuck, baby, ye—” you keen. “Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.”

Yoongi doesn’t. He lets himself get lost in the feel and sound of you, gripping your waist as he pushes deeper and deeper. Your shaking legs signal that it’s close to too much, and with a few flicks of your nub, you come crashing, and at your pleas for him to come with you, he crashes as well.

He lays next to your side and pulls you in his arms.

“Oh, baby. You’re such a freaky romantic,” you tease, cupping his cheek this time and planting a soft kiss on his lips.

His look softens. “Day 1, year 2. We came so hard and then she giggled and kissed me,” he narrates, causing you to laugh again. “She’s so adorable when she looks so soft. I love her so much.”

Summer ends too soon for you. By the middle of it, there were less of the lazy days at Yoongi’s apartment and more of the cafe runs before his training with a developmental team. It’s the usual next step, as the draft for the professional teams is still a few months from now, and this is where players get scouted. It’s basically their time to show the big league what they’re made of; the media hypes the players up as well and that adds to the anticipation of their eventual debut on the national stage.

Your support for Yoongi didn’t waver. Once he passed the tryout for the best team in the area, he spent a lot of time on the court. You’d wake up to an empty bed next to you because he’s off to morning training; some afternoons were spent in another city where the game was being held. But whenever he was back at home with you, it was all cuddles and kisses and inside stories and excitement from him.

There’s this joy he has whenever he plays. It’s not as obvious because unlike his teammates, Yoongi doesn’t react much. But since you watch him and not really the game, you notice how he always looks around the court before every match. You see the tiniest of smiles whenever he makes a shot or a good pass. You feel his focus when he’s seated on the bench, watching his teammates and then whispering something to them after.

He was their college team’s captain not because he was the most vocal, but because he was the most observant. He knew every team member’s individual strengths and highlighted those, and this time was no different. He always said he’s a student of the game and would spend entire days just watching play-by-plays and analyses.

But you enjoyed every day you got to watch him train or play. You snuck in a smirk or two when you’d caught his attention, and he took his revenge by gazing at you after a made-shot until you felt hot all over. He really is a confident one when he’s on the court.

You left in tears as you did the year before. You knew it was gonna be harder this time - he’d be more focused with training and getting drafted while you’d be in your final year of university. But you promised you’d still see each other as much as you could and you stayed true to that.

Months pass and though less frequent and shorter, the visits continue. So do the regular calls and texts, even if your exhaustion shows more and his frustration over losses hits harder. But the care and love remain.

He assures you of being fully with you after he gets drafted - wherever that may be; he said he hopes he’ll be based in Seoul - and you assure him the same after you graduate. The life you never even thought you’d want is slowly shaping up. You imagine the nice house in the big city and days of his basketball games and your movies. You imagine the mornings and evenings together, all the talks and the lovemaking, and all the hurt from your past being let go.

It was all good until it wasn’t. All it took was one bad fall, a broken kneecap, and a shattered dream to change everything.

6.5 years ago

The bell over the door rings, signaling a customer, and Yoongi smiles at the sight of you entering.

“Hey,” you greet, kissing him as you walk behind the counter, careful not to hit his casted knee. “I’m sorry I’m late. The agents took a while to inform us on who got the extras for this series. Couldn’t leave until then. Are you okay?”

“Did you get a role?” He asks, wanting to know how you are instead of him constantly saying how he’s been, which is pretty much the same this past week.

It’s been 3 months since the injury. He got a steal and went for a fast break, got inadvertently hit by an opponent, and then fell on his knee. It was a serious one, he’d been told; it would require weeks of bed rest and more of physical therapy. The mental side of it wasn’t something the doctor warned him about, though, and Yoongi thinks it’s been the worst.

He spent \days in bed with nothing to do, wishing he was on the court to train and play as draft day neared. He had this crazy thought that he’d still make it on time, but when his coach visited one day and told him bluntly - as Yoongi requested - that no professional teams are willing to contract an injured player, he felt his life crash down. It didn’t help to learn that the Seoul Thunders planned on signing him; that would’ve been the perfect path for him so he could be with you.

He moved back with his dad, a knot forming in his heart every time because Yoongi doesn’t like being taken care of, especially when as an adult, he feels like it’s his job to watch over his old man.

He loathed himself for not being there for you, too. Agencies usually start getting senior acting students, and you got rejected from your first 4 choices. You tried to mask your dejection during your video calls, asking instead how he’s been doing. He shrugged things off, saying he was okay, the same thing you were doing, and he felt that both of you were just trying to protect the other, or even yourselves, knowing that the comfort you both badly needed wasn’t an arm’s reach away.

When you finally got that call from a small agency, which you became ecstatic about after learning that they really seemed to care about their talents, he celebrated with you through the screen. He felt you play it down, though, and he knew you didn’t want him to feel bad. The restrained smiles hurt him more than he could say, though, and he wanted badly to just see your joy again.

“I got a role, just a small one,” you smile now. “And you, Mr., why are you out of the house? Being in a cast and cleared to move doesn’t mean you should be doing it all day.”

Your crossed arms and pouty face endears him, and he can’t help but chuckle.

“I’ve been stuck in my old room for months, jagi. I’m sick of the bed and staring at the NBA posters on my wall and all the awards I’ve won,” he says, his voice and his face falling. “It’s… it’s not a good place to be.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, kissing his hand.

The front door opens and Mr. Min enters, who’s just as surprised to see his son manning the shop.

“What are you doing here!” He scolds. “You’re supposed to be resting at home!”

“I’m trying to get the business going so we could earn and pay for my medical bills,” Yoongi answers, his face hardening now at the reminder of the sacrifices of his dad just so he could get the best care.

The developmental team and the insurance could only cover so much. Jungkook and Namjoon even gathered their friends to raise funds just to help, and much as Yoongi didn’t want to accept it, he knew rejecting the offer would bury his dad further in debt.

“That isn’t your job, son,” Mr. Min counters. “It’s mine.”

“It is, after I made that fast break knowing I’d get fouled. It was unnecessary. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s a play you’ve done so many times before. You wouldn’t have known how it would end. There’s no one to blame for this,” his dad huffs.

You can tell this conversation has happened before, and as you look at Yoongi’s dejected eyes, you know that he’s feeling much more than he’s been telling you, and you curse at yourself for being too tired and preoccupied to see behind his smiles.

“I just…” he starts, then shakes his head. “I just wanna do something else that isn’t lying down and feeling sorry for myself. I need to be productive. I’m just sitting here on the counter; I can stay here while you work on some pieces.”

“Fine,” his dad sighs. “But you’re off by 5.”

You stay with Yoongi until then, talking about how your days have been. He insists you tell him stories and you do, indulging him for now. Mr. Min drives both of you to their house and prepares dinner, and you notice that as time passes, Yoongi gets more quiet.

You remember the date and your heart breaks for him even more.

“Mr. Min, I’m sorry to ask but is it okay if I stay with Yoongi tonight?” You say, as you help him clean up in the kitchen. “It’s draft night and I don’t want him to be alone.”

The man stops his movements and glances at his son whose eyes that have lost the life in them stare at the ceiling. As a father, there’s no such pain like this. He thought that witnessing his sons lose their playfulness after he couldn’t get their mother to stay was hard enough, but it wasn’t as painful as seeing his child lose his drive and passion over a crushed dream. He knows there’s not much he can do but you do, so he agrees.

“Of course, my dear,” he smiles sadly. “Thank you for being patient with him. I know it hasn’t always been easy.”

“It’s all I can do,” you hum. “I just wish he doesn’t keep all the pain to himself.”

“I remind him that he shouldn’t, but it’s something he just does,” Mr. Min sighs. “Just give him some more time.”

“I will,” you nod, walking back to your boyfriend who smiles faintly when you say you’ll be staying the night.

You watch a rom-com and curl into him the entire time, laughing against his chest, intertwining your fingers with his, and nuzzling his neck to give him some form of comfort and distraction from what’s going on in some hall in Seoul. Wrapped in his arms as you prepare to sleep, you whisper words of love and encouragement, relaying what his dad had told you - that it isn’t the end, that he’s too young to think it is, that he has time after he recovers, and that he’ll be back strong soon enough.

Yoongi hums, kissing your forehead to tell you that he appreciates your positivity, that he wants to believe in your words, that your love has been the only light during these past 3 months of darkness. He lets your soft breaths sing him to sleep and he kisses you again - in apology this time, for keeping all his pain from you, for letting you see him suffer, for not loving you as he should, and for thinking that despite all the support you’re giving him, he’s not quite sure how to get through all this.

6 years ago

The pain from a broken dream is something that’s hard to comprehend. You tried to understand it once, when your mom told you about her own injury that had her retire from ballet early. It wasn’t just the physical pain, she said; the way the heart and soul hurt is indescribable. It wasn’t as simple as trying again after recovering; the fear of a re-injury is paralyzing, the missed opportunities are haunting, and the unwanted encouragement was jarring.

“It crushes something inside of you and you’re just lost,” she told you.

You think about her words as you look around Yoongi’s room, void of the love for the sport that used to burst out of him. You’ve just arrived from Seoul after a day of celebrations after your graduation yesterday, a milestone that your boyfriend wasn’t a part of because he hadn’t been feeling well; he’ll celebrate with you back home where it’s just the both of you, he’d said, not feeling like he’s ready to be around other people.

He's been feeling that since the injury, you sigh to yourself. Even after he removed the cast and could walk and run again, you two have barely gone out of the house every time you’ve visited, which is almost every week. Never mind the auditions you missed and the late nights; you had to go see him every time because he couldn’t, and you’re not sure if he was more upset that he’s not able to go to you, or that you were the one who had to see him every time. You can’t really tell; Yoongi hasn’t been open and expressive in a while.

The walls are now bare, with tape markings from the posters that were once displayed. There’s a trash bag next to his bin, and you find all his trophies and medals thrown inside. You fold the clothes on his bed and put them in his cabinet, finding that all his school and NBA jerseys are messily placed at the back, including the Allen Iverson one that you gifted him over a year ago, the one he once wore almost everyday.

“You don’t need to do that,” he hums, closing his closet door. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” You bravely ask. “Are you?”

“I don’t know how else I can answer that differently from the way I did last week, or the week before that, and before that,” he says too dryly. “You ask every time and I answer the same way.”

Yoongi watches your eyes lose their sparkle that was already faint in the first place. It’s been like that for a while. He supposes it’s the exhaustion from having to take the long trip every weekend to see him; once, you even came here for just a day because you learned he had a breakdown and wouldn’t stop crying. He doesn’t tell you that it still happens every few days, knowing that it would worry you even more.

You’re also probably just tired of having to deal with him - of missing out on the little things that he used to pick up so easily, of not telling you much about his empty, monotonous days, of not initiating or barely returning your affection. He can’t blame you, and though he knows of the extent of your love that would weather all this for and with him, he also knows you don’t deserve this broken version of the man who’s been unable to love you the way you’ve been needing him to.

It wasn’t always like this. He was optimistic at one point, but the hope of getting back on the court slowly faded when the healing process took longer than expected, as the presence of his friends and family became too suffocating, as the love he once had for the sport turned into fear.

He was cleared to move around and do light physical activities the other day and he decided to head to his favorite court at the park for a shoot around. Everything was unfamiliar. The feel of the ball in his hand didn’t feel the same, the movement of his legs were off, the open space made him claustrophobic.

But he pushed through. He tried to take shots but would freeze whenever he had to jump. It’s like he couldn’t move, and that’s when he knew that the fear had taken over - he’s afraid he’s no longer the same, that he’ll get injured again, that the sport he committed himself to no longer has space in its world for him.

The breakdown wasn’t intense like the first few times. It was silent but heavy, controlling his limbs to go back to his house, rip the posters from his wall, throw all his trophies in a trash bag, and hide everything else that reminded him of basketball. He slept well that night, thinking that it’s how it is to let go of a dream, but he woke up the next day feeling all the pain and fear and regret and sadness over something he’d lost, and all he wanted was to be able to hold you.

But he’s hurting you and he knows it, and he doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t know how all the broken parts of him could comfort and love you when he’s hurting himself. He doesn’t know how his broken dream could support you. You loved him for his passion, for his kindness, for the way he looked at life; he doesn’t know what’s left after all of those have gone.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really know what to say,” he continues after the tense silence. “But you’re here and we’re celebrating your graduation. This is all about you. I had food delivered. It should arrive soon, let’s go.”

“Okay,” you whisper, turning away and walking ahead.

He sees you try to engage but your smile fades quickly. You feel distant at night when you don’t curl into his body like you normally do and he knows why, as he sees through the light from outside - you’re crying in your sleep, and for the first time, he doesn’t think he’s enough to make all your hurt go away.

The next few weeks fly by in a blur. After the trip back home where you tried to celebrate your graduation with Yoongi, only to feel helpless at not being able to comfort him like you used to, you’re unable to visit until the next month. The roles you’ve been trying to scoop up just to get exposure and build networks have been taking much of your time, including the hostess job at a restaurant that you decided to take just so you could pay the bills.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind though; he doesn’t look for you the way he used to. You’re unsure if it’s the time spent apart, if it’s him getting tired with this arrangement, or if it’s that part of him that’s still suffering that’s why your relationship is suffering, too.

Much as you want to just confront him about how everything’s affected the both of you, he doesn’t seem to be open. He’s detached most times, disinterested in what’s going on in either of your lives, and just drained of energy. It’s hurting you more than you’d like to admit because this can't possibly be more difficult for you than it is for him.

So you keep it all in - how you miss his smile and his kisses, how you wish he could let you share his pain, how you want to just pause your life in Seoul so you could be with him until he’s better, until he’s able to love himself again, until he can love you again the way he used to.

You cry on the morning that his dad calls to tell you that he’d found Yoongi at 3AM, asleep in his car that was parked near the court where he used to play. Mr. Min had been so worried and drove around town to find his son who wasn’t picking up his phone, and Yoongi had only muttered an apology and barely spoke after they got home.

You take the first train you could back to Daegu, rushing to his room once you arrive. You hug him tightly, tempted to express all your anger and disappointment and apology and desperation over how things have been for him and for both of you.

“Talk to me,” you beg, looking at him with tears in your eyes. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. It’s been hard tiptoeing around you, guessing what you’re feeling and not knowing how to comfort you. Let me know how I can help.”

Yoongi merely looks away, seeming as if even as you plead for him to let you in, he just doesn’t want to.

The silence is deafening; it never felt this heavy, this scary, nor this painful.

“How did it get so hard to love you?” You finally cry out, feeling your heart burst out of your chest at the words that have been swimming in your head.

You never thought it would ever get this bad. You know he needs you and you’re willing to be there even if there’s so little of you to give, but the distance has gotten too much; no matter how hard you reach your hand, he’s just not willing to take it.

“Then stop,” he says pointedly, surprising you. “You’re not the only one having a hard time.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He does, in ways he can’t explain. Maybe in ways you won’t ever understand. It’s hard to love someone when he knows he’s lost himself; it’s not easy to believe he still deserves you when he can’t give you everything you deserve.

“It’s hard but you still do. You still love me, I know it,” you argue.

Yoongi looks away. That’s how you know you’re right. It’s in the longing in his eyes that he doesn’t want you to see. His quivering lips tell you he’s holding back, that there’s more of that pain in the rubble of the dream that was once so strong and so real.

“This hasn’t been working out,” he says, a thought you’d only let live in your head for fear that voicing it out would signal that you’re giving up on a love that’s meant the world to you. “It’s a miracle we even made it this long after what happened. I had plans for us - playing for a team, living with you, sustaining us… But all that’s gone down the drain and I can’t… I can’t keep living like this - being so far from you, worrying about you worrying about me, waiting for the day that I’ll get over myself just so I could give you a fraction of what you give me. The distance has just made everything so fucking hard.”

“So ask me to stay,” you tell him, walking towards him so he could see in your eyes how serious you are, that you’re willing to give things up for him so you could love him better, so that could make him heal faster. “Let me stay here with you. Let me be with you.”

Yoongi gazes back at you and so many memories flood his mind.

He remembers the first time. The first conversation he’d overheard when his dad asked his mother to stay. And how she did.

He remembers the second time and the third.

He remembers how the joy was fleeting, and how miserable she looked days later, like something was missing. Like the people in the home they built stopped being enough.

And he remembers the last time - the last time his dad asked her to stay, and how for the first time, she said no, and she took her bags and walked out the door. Yoongi remembers the tears in her eyes and her whispered apology, but that she looked like something he’d never seen until that day. That day, she looked free.

“I can’t ask you that,” he says in a hushed tone as he looks away, like the words aren’t his, like the words hurt just as much. “I can’t ask you to stay. I won’t let you.”

“But you’re here. I belong where you are.”

“Not here. You never belonged here.”

“If you think that pretending you don’t want me anymore will convince me that you don’t, then you’re wrong. I know that’s not true. Just ask me to stay. I need to hear that you want me to stay.”

“I’m not pretending. I do want you. So much. But so will the rest of the world, and that’s what you deserve,” he answers. “There’s nothing for you here, ___. One day, I’ll stop being enough and it will be too late.”

“You don’t know that,” you insist.

“I do.”

“I’m not your mother, Yoongi. And you’re not your dad.”

“Exactly. You dream of something more than just living in the big city. You dream of something you can and you will achieve because you’re destined for it. You’re not her. And I’m not him. Because I’d never ask you to give up anything to keep you here.”

“Then come with me,” you plead. “Seoul is big enough for the both of us.”

“It is. But you’ll be bigger,” he says, cupping your cheek now. “You belong there while I… I have my own broken dreams that I need to piece back together. And I can only do that here. I won’t let them hurt you like they’re hurting me. I can’t love you right with the broken parts of me. So please, ___. Don’t stay. You and I both know you won’t be happy here.”

You remember your mom’s words as she described what emptiness felt like after she stopped dancing. Not only did she lose her capability but she lost her drive, too; she lost herself in the pain of it all. And that haunted her. It was like a ghost that she let live with her even after you and your sisters came along, and you all had to suffer because she forced herself to be okay and love the people around her even if everything else hurt.

You’ll never know what it feels like but you understand. And so you concede, dropping your head to rest on his chest and hugging him as you sob.

“I’m so sorry, jagi,” he whispers in your ear. “I thought I was strong enough for this but I’m not. What’s left of me just can’t… it just can’t love you the same way anymore.”

You hold onto him tighter in response, not able to say just how much it hurts, but that you’ll suffer through it on your own and let him go like he wants.

Maybe this is what he needs. And loving him the way you do, maybe giving him up is how you could love him even more.

5 years ago

The start of spring usually brings with it new beginnings, with the colors coming back and the sun shining a lot brighter this time. You’re finally able to take a day off from your hostess job at the restaurant after working there for 6 days, with your last acting gig having wrapped up just last week. It’s still tough starting out, and while your extra role had you in ⅔ of the season’s episodes, it’s still nowhere near the break you badly need.

You’re looking forward to today though, as Jungkook and Namjoon promised to treat you to a fancy lunch after their game against each other; they were drafted by the Seoul and Incheon developmental basketball teams respectively, in time for the draft in a few months. You’ve seen them at least 3 times since they both moved out of Daegu, and every time has been full of laughter, with both of them asking to be set up with your actor friends.

The topic of Yoong still comes up, with you asking how he’s been doing. He’s been fine, they say. He showed up at their graduation and joined the celebration after they got drafted. It’s a far cry to how their captain was not long ago - distant, angry, and completely rid of anything that reminded him of the sport.

Both men show up at the restaurant with their usual smiles, and after ordering so much food that you wouldn’t have been able to afford, you have your usual chat - about life back in Daegu, about your friends, and about basketball.

“And Yoongi?” You ask. “Is he still doing okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you repeatedly before nodding and downing his soda. “Uh-uh,” he hums.

He doesn’t follow it up and instead nudges Namjoon, who adds that yes, their captain is doing better; they visited him the other month after they both went home for the weekend.

You eye both men as they hyper focus on their food and try to change the subject.

“You’re both terrible liars, you know that, right?” You frown at them. “I know we’ve been broken up a while but I’d still appreciate it if you told me how he’s really doing. Is… is he feeling down again? Did something happen? Is it his dad?”

“No. Yoongi’s, uh,” Namjoon sighs. “He’s doing really well, ___. He’s just…”

“Namjoon,” you huff, “you’re scaring me.”

“He has a girlfriend,” Jungkook blurts, earning him a shove from his friend.

“You could’ve softened the blow,” Namjoon groans.

“You were stuttering,” Jungkook argues. He turns to you and gives you a sad look. “It’s… it’s been going for like, a few months. She’s a local musician and she’s nice. She seems to be treating him well. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, nothing to apologize for,” you smile, meaning it. “As long as he’s doing okay, though, right? And I’m really glad that he is.”

The men sigh in relief, perhaps thinking you’d take the news worse than this.

You try to maintain your composure and control the tears that are about to fall as the meal goes on, a skill you’re close to mastering. You’ve wanted nothing more than for Yoongi to heal and feel alive again and he seems to be; maybe finding someone who could be there for him physically and emotionally was what he really needed. Clearly, that wasn’t you. And clearly, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize that. You have no doubt that your breakup hurt him, but you also didn’t think he’d move on from it like this and this soon, considering how it ended.

Hoseok, your agent, calls and cuts your lunch short, as he says he got to book you a walk-in audition for a supporting role in a mini-series, with the directors wanting someone new and having a certain innocent, youthful look about them.

You bid your friends goodbye, with them hugging you a little more tightly than earlier, saying that they wish you all the happiness in the world and that maybe, this audition will get you closer to what you’ve always wanted.

You wait a few hours for your turn to audition, reining in all your emotions so you could translate it during your few minutes of time in front of the panel. You’re not sure if it’s the best thing for your heart that the scene is one where you’re watching the man you want to be with be with someone else, but after you put in your all and notice the small smile of one of the woman in front of you, you think that maybe allowing yourself to be this vulnerable wasn’t so bad.

Hoseok treats you to a late dinner and tells you that it seemed like you did well. Maybe the payoff to the hurt from today will materialize one day, maybe it won’t. But nothing changes the way your heart breaks at the thought of Yoongi moving on.

You cry yourself to bed and decide that it’s time for you to move on, too. You wake up the next morning and tear the photo of the both of you that’s still on your bedside.

What’s left of you has nothing left for him, too. You hope you’ll get over this soon enough.

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