#I feel like I ended this too abruptly but I didn’t want it to turn into a fanfic lmao

[superbreadsoul]

LEAVE ME BEHIND

Rafe Cameron x Reader

MDNI!!!

DISCLAIMER!: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters/show/movie mentioned in this story.

Warning: EXTREMELY TOXIC exes, heartbreak, open ended/bittersweet ending, Rafe is a bad boyfriend, Reader is DRUNK as fuck, Reader has a POTTY-MOUTH, Reader is a crybaby/ abusive (for that ONE time) , mentions alcohol abuse/murder, Reader might get on your nerves–i sincerely apologise for that–, cheating (i hate this, dont do this) , Porn with plot.

Read if you like to see Rafe beg. Read at your own risk. Seriously. This is real bad.

WORD COUNT: 22503 WORDS

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Y/N had always been aware that she wasn’t Rafe’s first love. That truth weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder that while he was her everything, she was merely a chapter in his story. It hurt like hell when the memories of their past would slip from his lips, eliciting laughter and a light in his blue eyes that hadn’t touched her in far too long. She cried herself to sleep in the quiet moments, yet she held strong, hiding her pain behind a brave façade. She didn’t want him to know how deeply the shadows of his past affected her.

One fateful evening at Rafe's party, her strength threatened to crumble completely. They had retreated to the terrace, surrounded by laughter and music, but that warmth was abruptly shattered. In the blink of an eye, Rafe stood up from the sofa, leaving her behind as he disappeared downstairs, swallowed by the chaotic crowd of people lost in drink and clouded senses. 

And then her heart froze. There he was, standing with her.

Sofia.

Rafe’s ex-girlfriend was an ethereal presence, her laughter dancing through the air, her smile radiant and infectious. Y/N stood there, feeling like a ghost in her own life, invisible and aching as she watched Rafe beam at Sofia like she was the only person in the world. The joy in his face was a knife twisting in Y/N’s already breakable heart, and in that moment, reality warped around her—she felt as though the world had collapsed, leaving nothing but a hollow pit where her heart had been.

Gripping her whiskey glass tightly, she downed the contents and inhaled sharply, shaking off the swirling fog of jealousy and sadness that threatened to overtake her. She pushed through the bodies, determination fueling her every step as she made her way toward them, each heartbeat echoing a painful reminder of her insecurity.

“Rafe!” she called out over the booming music, fighting against both the noise and the burgeoning panic within.

Rafe’s head turned, surprise flickering across his features as his eyes landed on her. They swept down to the glass in her hand, and for a moment, she saw something in his gaze—concern. But it was fleeting.

“Yeah? You alright?” he asked casually, his body still angled towards Sofia.

Y/N’s resolve quaked as she glanced at Sofia, the thin woman with an effortless grace. Feeling fat and out of place, Y/N swallowed hard. “I wanna go,” she said, her voice strained.

The moment the words left her lips, Rafe's demeanour shifted. He crossed his arms, annoyance blooming like a dark cloud. “What? You want to go home already?”

Sofia remained silent, her expression unreadable, as if this petty feud was merely an amusing spectacle to her. 

“Yes. I wanna go home. Let’s go,” Y/N insisted, desperation creeping into her tone.

Rafe studied her for a heartbeat, tension brewing in the air before he turned to Sofia with a tight smile. “I’ll text you later,” he said, the words bitter on Y/N's tongue. 

As Sofia departed, Rafe leaned in, placing a hand on her arm, a gesture meant to be comforting. “Let’s go home,” he murmured softly.

But all Y/N could think about were the words he had carelessly cast aside. “The fuck does that mean? You’ll text her later?” The frustration flowed out, raw and unfiltered.

Rafe flinched at her tone, brows knitting together in disbelief. “Goddamn… why can’t you just chill for once? There’s nothing going on between me and her.”

“Okay? Then why do you need to text her back?” The whiskey emboldened her, turning frustration into sharp urgency.

“Why do I need to text her back…” he echoed, annoyance edging his voice. He twisted the keys into the engine with a loud huff. “It’s none of your business. We’re friends. I should be able to have a normal conversation with her without being questioned!”

“What the fuck? How is that none of my business? You’re my fucking boyfriend, Rafe!” She pressed, incredulity mingling with her alcohol courage; she jabbed a finger into her chest, needing to reinforce her claim.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Goddammit, how drunk are you?”

Her voice turned fervent—slurred—, as she clung to her thoughts. “This is about you and who—what even is she? Sofia? Whatever—You can’t keep leaving me to talk with your ex. You can’t!”

Rafe looked like he might erupt from frustration as her words tumbled out, jumbled and frantic. “First of all, you’re being paranoid. I didn’t leave you to talk with her; you didn’t even let me explain. She is my friend. Just a friend.”

“Don’t you dare tell me she’s just a friend!” Y/N shot back, her hands tangling in her hair. “She’s your ex-girlfriend!”

“EX-girlfriend, Y/N. EX!” he repeated, exasperated. “Why can’t you understand this doesn’t matter anymore?”

He slowed the car slightly, the distance between them growing palpable. “I’m with you... not with her,” he said, frustration dripping from every word. “Why are you even concerned about this?”

Tears pooled in Y/N’s eyes, and the air shifted into something brittle and raw. “Because I—” She let go of her hair, mascara imbuing her cheeks with dark streaks. “I love you. And sometimes—sometimes I feel like you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe's heart stumbled in his chest as he absorbed Y/N's words, a stark revelation crackling in the air between them like a lightning bolt. The weight of her pain crashed over him, suffocating and starkly real. He despised the sight of her like this, broken and vulnerable, the glistening tears brimming in her eyes a torture he had never wished to witness. 

Desperate to escape the rising tension, Rafe swallowed hard and pulled the car to a stop on the side of the dimly lit road. The engine ticked softly in the heavy silence, each second stretching unbearably as the truth hung unspoken. Finally, he turned to her, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “Why would you think that…?”

Y/N let out a quiet sniffle, her head leaning back against the seat, the gentle thud a counterpoint to the turmoil swirling within her. “You don’t bring me flowers anymore,” she said, each word a painful reminder. “You used to do it every morning at the beginning, just to see me smile. You never used to touch your phone when we were together. You always told me I had your ‘undivided attention.’ And now, when I call you, you don’t even look up. You’re always texting and calling—but it’s not me.” Her voice broke, the final words slipping out with a vulnerability that tore at Rafe's heart.

Each of her statements pierced through him like shards of glass, a painful truth echoing in the silence. Guilt washed over him, seeping into every crevice of his being. She was right. Everything had shifted after a few months together. He had taken her presence for granted, convinced she would always be there. In his mind, their love didn't need nurturing; it was solid, a constant. 

He shook his head slowly, searching for something—anything—worthy to say, but the words eluded him. “I’m—I’m so…” The admission caught in his throat, his chest tightening around the confession. “I’m so sorry, N/N…” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you?” she replied, her voice fragile, almost breaking. In that moment, she began to peel at the skin around her nails, a habit borne of anxiety, fresh red lines marking her fingers as blood seeped through the fissures. 

“Of course I am…” Rafe responded quietly, instinctively reaching for her hand to stop her frantic movements. With tenderness, he brushed his thumb across the inflamed skin, feeling the warmth and pain radiating from her. “You’re right. I was an idiot. I got used to you just being there, and I thought that was enough. I stopped trying to show you how important you are to me, and that was a horrible thing to do.” 

His heart thundered in his chest as he pressed on, “But believe me, I still love you—just like I used to, if not more.” 

Her gaze held his, but pain still clouded her verdant eyes. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel that way, Rafe…” she whispered, tears shimmering on her lashes like tiny crystals.

The sight of her despair knotted in his gut. He hated that she was hurting—hated that it was because of him. His heart ached, every beat a reminder of his shortcomings. 

With a deep, shaky breath, Rafe leaned closer, his fingers tenderly grasping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. The depth of guilt reflected in his gaze was palpable, a shared sorrow bleeding into the space between them. “What can I do to make you believe me?” he murmured, vulnerability seeping into his tone.

After a long, drawn-out silence, Y/N nuzzled into his palm, her voice hoarse but unwavering. “Block her.” 

The words landed heavily, a command disguised as a plea, echoing in the stillness of the car. Rafe felt an internal battle surge within him. Blocking Sofia felt like a severing of old ties, a rejection of a past that still clung to him like a shadow. But then he looked at Y/N, saw the raw hope flickering behind her pain-stricken eyes, and the decision crystallised. 

Y/N’s expression softened, a glimmer of light breaking through the storm clouds of their turmoil. “I just need to know you’re choosing me,” she whispered, her hand resting against his, the warmth bridging the distance their struggles had created.

Rafe paused, the weight of Y/N’s words settling heavily in the car’s confined space. He hadn’t expected this at all. The idea of blocking Sofia taunted him, a spectre of his past that seemed impossible to banish, yet he knew deep down that he had to try. He had to understand Y/N's pain, to grasp the depth of her desire. With a slow, hesitant breath, he rubbed his thumb over her cheek, searching for a glimmer of hope in her pleading eyes. “Would this make you happy?” he murmured.

“No,” she whispered, her voice a sweet melody concealing the storm beneath, as she pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. Her eyes locked onto his, holding him captive.

Rafe swallowed hard, a mix of frustration and longing swirling in his chest. Stubbornness tugged at him, tempting him to argue, to dismiss her request as overreacting, yet the power of her gaze stilled him. Those big, expressive eyes had an unusual strength, compelling him to give in time and time again. 

He remained silent for a few moments, thoughts racing through his mind until he finally mustered the courage to ask, “And what would make you happy?”

“I want you—to never see her again.” The urgency in her words wrapped around him, her kiss stealing his breath and igniting a flicker of conflict within him.

Rafe's brow furrowed. Why did letting go of his ex-girlfriend gnaw at him so painfully? He was certain he loved Y/N more with every corner of his being, yet the shadows of his past loomed large, whispering doubts that he couldn’t fully shake.

He leaned closer, cupping her delicate face in his hands, their foreheads nearly touching. The warmth radiating from her skin enveloped him, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined a future free from his past. “I’ll block her…” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Y/N's reaction was immediate and unsettling. Her eyes darkened, locking onto his with an intensity that chilled him to the core. “That’s not what I asked.”

Rafe’s heart raced in his chest. The sharpness of her tone sent a shiver down his spine, igniting an unfamiliar heat within him. He found himself caught between fear and admiration for this fierce side of her. “What you’re asking me to do is… a lot…” he murmured, fighting against the rasp in his voice.

In an instant, Y/N grasped his jaw, her fingers digging in painfully as she scrutinised his face with a fierce glare. “I fucking gave you everything! You think Sofia can give you what I can? Huh? You think she can handle the truth about you? About the shit you pulled? All that blood on your hands that only I know about?” Her voice was a low, intense growl, each word a knife plunging deeper into the wounds they both carried.

“Dammit, N/N…” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tightly, feeling the conflicting sensations of pain and thrill wash over him. The grip on his jaw hurt, but it stirred something primal in him, a strange exhilaration that had been absent for so long. 

Initially taken aback by her ferocity, he felt anger swell inside him, a potent mix of indignation and adrenaline. He seized her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face with a force that surprised them both. In that moment, the familiar Rafe faded, revealing someone darker, someone more raw and unrefined—a reflection of the storm raging inside him.

“There he is,” Y/N whispered, a sick grin curving her lips, her gaze darting between his eyes. “There’s Rafe Cameron.” 

Her words hung in the air, threading through the chaos of their emotions. The familiar comfort of their love was nothing but a fragile illusion; the confrontation had peeled away the layers, exposing the raw edges of their hearts. In this unexpected standoff, he realised they were standing at a crossroads, the familiar path fading behind them while an unknown future beckoned, uncertain and fraught with danger.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rafe growled, his voice a reverberating thunder in the dimly lit room. He tightened his grip around her wrist, pulling her closer to him to prevent any more intimate gestures, a mix of confusion and fury swirling in his chest. He leaned in, eyes sharp and piercing, locking onto hers as if trying to strip away her bravado. “You can’t be making demands from me, baby,” he muttered lowly, his tone dripping with disdain. His hand slid from her wrist, fingers curling around her chin with a possessive strength that left no doubt about his intentions.

She smirked, unfazed by his aggression, her eyes glinting with a challenge as she replied, “She’s never seen this side of you. And she won’t be able to handle it.” 

Rafe narrowed his eyes, feeling the anger simmer just beneath the surface. He tightened his grip, his fingers pressing into her skin with a force that bordered on pain. “And you can?” He shot back, each word steeped in venom. 

Silence hung thickly between them, the air charged with tension as he bore down on her, his emotions a chaotic storm. She didn’t flinch; instead, she leaned in, a reckless smile playing on her lips, a wicked glimmer in her gaze. 

“Oh baby,” she purred, leaning toward him to trail her tongue across his cheek. The touch sent shockwaves through him, igniting a reckless energy he couldn’t fully suppress. “I’m the one who washed Peterkin’s blood off your hands. Remember?” The words were slurred but heavy, dripping with undeniable intimacy as she nipped at his skin, her breath hot against him.

At the mention of Peterkin, Rafe froze. A scowl twisted his face, the memory crashing over him like a wave; she had stayed by his side that night, battling against the bitter reality of the choices he made. She had been there, without questions, helping him scrub away the remnants of a life steeped in darkness. The fact that she wielded it like a weapon made his blood run cold.

With a sharp tug, he pulled her back, their faces inches apart, the tension crackling with unspoken words. “Don’t bring that up...” The warning came out in a whisper, as his breath ghosted against her lips.

“Or what, baby? You gonna hit me?” Her demeanour shifted, shifting from defiance to mockery, her droopy eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or you gonna fuck me?” The laughter that escaped her lips was both intoxicating and infuriating, a reckless bravado that made his heart race in frustration.

Rafe felt a torrent of emotions boil within him. Sure, she was drunk, her inhibitions lowered, but no one ever dared to speak to him like this. “Or I’m gonna leave,” he growled, forcing his voice to remain steady, even though he felt a tempest brewing inside.

Her smile faltered, eyes narrowing like daggers. “Oh yeah?” she asked, bitterness dripping from each word.

“Yeah...” he replied, refusing to yield, his grip unyielding on her chin as he continued, “I could just leave you here and go back to that fancy party. Have a great time. I could find me some chick to flirt with…” Each word was a calculated blow, designed to pierce through any facade of confidence she wore.

He watched her reaction closely, a mixture of satisfaction and guilt welling up inside him. He knew he was being cruel, pushing her buttons with the precision of a surgeon, but in her inebriated state, it was too easy to pull the strings and watch her unravel.

As anticipated, her expression soured, the alcohol stripping away the bravado as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You fucking asshole,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a cocktail of anger and hurt.

The words struck him hard, reverberating in the charged silence, and for a fleeting moment, he saw through the haze of his emotions. He was treading on dangerous ground, dancing around a precipice that threatened to swallow them both whole. But in that moment, anger drowned out everything else, and the walls they had built around their complicated relationship began to crumble under the weight of their truth.

Rafe held her gaze, unblinking, feeling the burning intensity of the moment wrap around them like a shroud. It felt like a fight worth having, a dangerous game of chess played with hearts instead of pawns. They were both wounded, entangled in a dance of blood and desire, standing at the edge of something raw and bleak, yet electric with possibility.

Rafe’s heart hardened into a stone as he fixed his gaze on her. She was a storm of tears and rage, and yet all he felt was the cold weight of justification. “You brought Peterkin into this,” he thought bitterly, punishing her with his silence. If she was going to cry, he didn’t care. It was what she deserved for making him listen to her ludicrous demands. For pushing him into a corner where he had to choose sides.

“Are you happy now?” He hoped she was drowning in her anguish. He wanted her to feel as defeated and frustrated as he did, to grasp the gravity of her impact on his life.

But the moment the tears began to slip down her cheeks, all resolve crumbled, replaced by raw fury. She shoved him, the force of her frustration breaking through her disorientation. She slapped him, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car like a gunshot. “Fucking—asshole—you fucking asshole—fucking—prick!” she screamed, each word a jagged knife cutting deeper.

Rafe didn’t flinch as she struck him again and again, each slap marked by her frustration and heartache. Instead, he absorbed the blows, the sharp pain a bittersweet reminder of the emotional turmoil they shared. As he sat there, he could see the tears pooling in her eyes, reflecting the fury within her. Hatred swirled within him, yet it mingled with something far more powerful—love. 

“Are you done yet?” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his voice slicing through her sobs.

She responded with a loud sob, pushing him back in his seat one last time, the anger finally bubbling to a climax. “—Fuck you!” Without a second thought, she undid her seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, her heart breaking into jagged pieces as she fell to her knees. Wobbly-legged, she stood up and started walking away, her heels clicking erratically on the pavement.

“Whoa, hold on!” Panic clawed at Rafe's insides as he jumped out of the car, chasing after her. No way was he letting her walk the streets alone like this, not in this state. He caught up to her swiftly, grabbing her hand and wrenching her around to face him. “Where the hell are you going?!” he roared, anger still bubbling under the surface.

“Get away from me!” she shouted back, shoving him weakly as her heel wobbled beneath her. “—you—you go ahead and go fuck someone else, Rafe!” The words cut deep, each one saturated with betrayal as tears streamed irrepressibly down her cheeks.

Stunned, Rafe staggered back, his hand falling away as she continued to express her pain. The darkness in his gaze turned more profound, the finality of her words settling like a dense fog around them. 

“Fine,” he retorted sharply, crossing his arms defensively. “Maybe I will.” 

Her expression morphed from anger to disbelief, her breath heavy, as if the weight of his words had knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled slightly but regained her balance, and Rafe felt his heart racing, torn between anger and an aching desire to pull her into his arms.

“You don’t mean that,” she said softly, vulnerability creeping into her voice, but Rafe could only watch, hardened by the atmosphere they had created. He could feel everything inside him at war as he wrestled with his desire to comfort her and his instinct to protect himself from further pain.

In his mind, scenarios played out at a thousand miles per hour. He imagined pulling her close, cradling her waist as he helped her step back into the car. He imagined undressing her slowly, taking off her heels so she could feel grounded again. But amidst fantasy thoughts, he held her gaze steady, fierce and unyielding.

Then she rushed forward, fueled by anger and hurt, and shoved him squarely in the chest. “Fuck you!” she sobbed, the sound reverberating through him.

The emotional distance felt insurmountable, yet the impulse to reach for her was almost irresistible. In the space between them, love and hurt collided, creating a crackling tension that threatened to ignite. Rafe felt himself tilting closer to the edge of surrender, where pride met vulnerability, waiting for the moment when the dam would break and everything would spill over. 

But for now, they stood locked in place, a standoff between emotions they couldn’t articulate, both unwilling to yield yet desperate for something they didn’t know how to name. The night stretched around them, a tapestry woven from pain, love, and fractured trust, waiting for one brave soul to take the first step toward healing or destruction.

Rafe stood in the fading light of the evening, a silent sentinel caught in the crossfire of their shattered relationship. The air around them was thick with tension as he watched her shove him, each push a desperate, futile attempt to rid herself of the pain that had wedged itself between them. Instinctively, he took a step back, allowing her to vent her frustration, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, a mask of stoicism over his anguished heart.

Each sob that escaped her felt like a dagger to his chest, each word that tore from her lips a reminder of their crumbling world. He kept his expression blank, a practised indifference, while inside, his heart shattered a little more with every shaky breath she took. 

“Fuck—you—” she spat, her weak slaps against his chest more a reflection of her helplessness than any real aggression, until at last she surrendered. She leaned against him, forehead pressed to the softness of his shirt, her breath hitching as she battled the storm within.

For a moment, Rafe was taken aback. She had broken, and now, in the quiet of their chaos, he felt the weight of her despair. As her body grew heavy against him, he exhaled deeply, the tension coiling in his muscles loosening just enough for him to allow a gentle touch. He placed one hand atop her head, not as a conqueror but as a confidant, trying to ease the disappointment that clung to them like a shroud.

“Please don’t leave me.” Her voice was barely a whisper, lodged in the crook of his neck. The sincerity struck him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something deep within him.

Rafe swallowed hard, the weight of her pleading words pulling him under. He fought against the urge to shatter in response. He desperately wanted to be strong, to stand firm against the tempest that threatened to pull them apart, yet it was nearly impossible to withstand the raw pain emanating from her.

His hand moved instinctively to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he lowered his face toward her neck. Lips brushed softly against her skin, the kisses light and featherlike, rich with unspoken assurances and regrets. Each delicate touch was a promise, an apology for the battle raging around and within them.

Her soft cry of relief sent tremors through him. She gasped, fingers entwining in the hair at his nape, pulling him ever closer. “Please, baby,” she murmured, a plea wrapped in vulnerability.

Time seemed suspended as Rafe enveloped her in his arms, holding her close while she wept, his lips tracing the line of her neck until he pulled back. He sought her eyes with his dark pools of frustration and residual love. Here they were, two souls fighting to stay connected in a world that felt determined to tear them apart.

“Let’s get you back to the car, baby.” His voice was quiet, almost regretful, the weight of his words settling heavily between them.

With those words, her expression shifted, and an invisible barrier seemed to form. The spark dimmed in her eyes, swallowed by the shadow of defeat. Rafe felt the weight of guilt choking him as he helped her slide into the truck, watching as she numbly fastened her seatbelt. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, but silence hung in the air, a thick, insurmountable void that neither dared to breach.

As they drove, Rafe’s mind churned with unresolved frustration. He could see how her spirit dimmed, the toll of their fight etching itself deeper into her features. And yet, anger coiled tightly in his chest like a spring, refusing to uncoil. He felt that he had wrecked it all, that she was slipping further away with every mile they travelled.

When the car finally came to a halt outside their shared house, Rafe got out and rounded the vehicle. He opened the passenger door, extending a hand in silence, inviting her to lean on him one last time. Her reluctance sent another stab of worry through him, but she took his hand, a fragile thread connecting them as he helped her out of the truck.

“Come on,” he said softly, but his tone lacked warmth, the chill of his emotions seeping through the cracks of his facade. As she stumbled in her heels, fumbling with the keys, Rafe felt the darkness creeping back into his heart. Each fumble was evidence of her distress, a reminder that they were both drowning beneath their anguish.

Without thinking, he stepped behind her, hands resting on her hips to steady her. A moment stretched into eternity before he quietly took the keys, unlocking the door with the ease of someone who had done it too many times before. He pushed it open and let her pass, watching her retreat into the hallway, her head hung low.

With her back turned, she stumbled into their bedroom, a retreat into a space once filled with love but now haunted by sorrow. Rafe's urge to follow her, to reclaim the passion they had shared, clawed at him. He wanted to pull her back, to envelop her in a wave of unrestrained intimacy to drown out the pain—but he remained rooted to the spot.

He swallowed his emotions and retreated to the living room. There, he sank onto the couch, his face pressing into his palms as if the very act could erase the turmoil in his heart. The silence of the apartment was deafening, a mirror to the chaos within him.

In that moment of solitude surrounded by echoes of their fractured relationship, Rafe was left grappling with the choices they had made and the love that remained tangled in the shadows. And as he sat there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, he knew this was only the beginning of the battle they both faced—the battle to reclaim what had once been whole.

The dim light of the room flickered softly, capturing the tension suspended in the air like a taut string ready to snap. She had shed her dress, her silhouette partially obscured by an open robe that cascaded around her figure like a gentle waterfall. The vulnerability of her state struck Rafe hard as he stood there, an unwilling spectator wrestling with his unruly emotions.

When the soft padding of her bare feet reached him, his heart thrummed an erratic beat. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of her—every curve, every lingering shadow framed by the gentle glow of the room. His gaze lingered, heavy and carnal, awakening something deep within him that had lain dormant, buried beneath layers of anger and hurt.

She moved closer, her fingertips brushing through his buzzed hair, sending jolts through his body with each tentative scratch against his scalp. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked, her voice a whisper, soft and inviting, laced with an undercurrent of anxiety.

Jesus Christ, he thought, exhaustion and desire battling within him. He swallowed hard, struggling to filter out his lust from the simmering annoyance that had threatened to consume him moments ago. She knew exactly how to distract him, how to drive him wild, even in the face of their heated words. 

He opened his eyes and allowed his gaze to travel up her body, finally locking onto hers. “What do you think?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with unintentional desire.

Her lips twisted into a soft smile, almost playful. “You know I’m pretty mad at you too, ya know?” She scratched at his head again, her touch a familiar blend of warmth and teasing, making his resolve falter.

“Yeah?” he muttered, giving in to her gentle caress as he leaned into it, his eyes fluttering shut once more. His fingers sought her hip, fingertips curling around the edge of her robe, a silent plea to pull her closer. “Why’s that, sweetheart?”

As if taking charge of the moment, she leaned forward, her stomach pressing against his face. “You really hurt me when you said those things, baby,” she admitted, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability as she watched him, parting her lips slightly, inviting.

Rafe could barely contain the groan that escaped him as her warmth enveloped him. The ache in his chest softened for a moment, and he surrendered to her, letting himself be consumed by her presence. “You hurt me too, sweetheart.” The words came out against the softness of her skin, a whispered confession that laid bare their raw connection.

“Yeah? I hurt you?” she coaxed, her voice gentle, teasing. The heat rising between them was electric.

Instead of answering, he bent to kiss her stomach—a slow, deliberate exploration of the warmth that radiated from her skin. His lips travelled from her belly button down to the edge of her panties, tasting her desire as humiliation and longing swirled together in the air between them.

“You have no idea how bad it hurt, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing, dragging his lips against the delicate fabric that separated them.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know I’m sorry. Don’t you?” Her voice was soothing, yet charged with an underlying tension that made his heart race. The pleasure of her whispers urged him on, fueled his insatiable hunger.

Rafe’s resolve wavered as he mumbled, “I don’t know if I do, sweetheart. You never said it.” His lips danced along her waistband, hovering at the precipice of temptation.

Her whimper was like a siren's call. “Fuck—Rafe…” she breathed, fingers curling into his shoulders, desperate for his touch. It was a sound that ignited the fire within him, driving him to the edge of control.

He couldn’t resist her any longer. His kisses transformed from gentle brushes to hungry demands, his tongue savouring the taste of her through the fabric of her panties. He gripped her hips, pulling her closer, drowning in the intoxicating rhythm of her pleasure.

As she threw her head back with a moan that rocked him to his core, Rafe felt her desperation seep into him, fueling his own need. “Rafe!” she cried, urging him onward as she rolled her hips against him.

Her moans echoed like music, songs of desire woven into the very fabric of the moment. Each sound twisted in his chest, fueling his own hunger as he lost himself in her rhythm. 

“Fuck!” she moaned, her body arching further into him as she lifted a leg onto the couch, granting him deeper access to her heat. 

“Stop moving, sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice strained, a raw edge betraying his attempts at restraint. But it was a losing battle.

“Please, baby…” The desperation in her whisper sent shockwaves through him, each plea unravelling his resolve thread by thread.

And then all at once, he surrendered. Frayed edges of anger burned away, replaced by a sheer lust that consumed him whole. He tugged her panties down with a swift, possessive motion, his mouth crashing against her skin, tasting her essence and relishing the soft shudder she gave in return.

But then suddenly, she pulled back, abandoning him, and Rafe's heart raced in confusion as he searched her eyes for an explanation. “Why’d you pull away?” he murmured, the huskiness of his voice reflecting his bewilderment, dark eyes wild with desire.

With a sultry grin, she sank to her knees, her hands scooting up the length of his thighs, sending an electrifying jolt through him. “Just trying to show you how sorry I am,” she purred, a playful glimmer in her gaze.

“Ah, Jesus Christ…” The words escaped Rafe in a low, ragged breath, a mix of anticipation and disbelief hanging in the air as he watched her—a vision of temptation—sink slowly to her knees. Time seemed to stretch as his eyes traced the curve of her body, lingering on the soft silhouette of her breasts spilling seductively from the open night robe. She was an intoxicating sight, her intent clear in the way she fixed her gaze upon him.

A deep, primal groan rumbled within him as her hands crept up his thighs, delicate yet possessive, each touch sending electric jolts through his body. Rafe’s muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, a cocktail of desire and restraint coursing through his veins, urging him to surrender to the mounting heat between them.

She kissed a path up his thighs, a teasing warmth that turned his breath into shallow gasps. The world outside faded into a distant memory; all that mattered was the two of them caught in this moment of unspoken need.

His belt felt like a weighty barrier to what they both craved—the need to close the distance that separated them. Rafe swallowed hard, his determination faltering as he felt her fingers deftly working the leather free. He lifted his hips instinctively, granting her permission, a silent plea for more. Each moment stretched out, a tantalising promise of what was to come, yet he fought to maintain control, feeling it slip away from him as he watched her.

Then, in a daring move that ignited the wildest part of him, she mouthed at the outline of him, tracing his arousal with the promise of pleasure, before finally releasing him from the confines of his pants. The sensation of her warm mouth enveloping him sent shockwaves through his body, each pulse of ecstasy igniting a raw hunger deep within.

His grip tightened in her hair, fingers curling into strands as he fought the urge to lose himself completely. The primal feeling of ownership surged through him, overwhelming and intoxicating. “Fuck, you’re so good,” he murmured, the admission torn from his lips as if it were a primal chant. 

With a surge of lustful dominance, he found his other hand threading back into her hair, guiding her movements, forcing her to take him deeper. The sensation sent his senses reeling, his hips instinctively jerking forward as he pushed himself further into her warmth, wanting to claim every inch of her. The muffled sounds of her moans reverberated against his skin, a siren call that stoked the flames of his desire.

Rafe lost himself in the rhythm, each thrust a testament to his frustration and lust—a fervent need to conquer her stubbornness, to turn their simmering tensions into this burning connection. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he growled, locking his eyes onto the tear-streaked canvas of her face.

The sight only fueled his desire further, each drop of vulnerability and submission reflected back at him a thrilling confirmation of their raw connection. It was a potent mixture of power and tenderness, and he craved it with every fibre of his being.

But just as the crescendo of pleasure threatened to burst from him, he couldn’t stop the urge to pull her away, needing to see her fully—a wild and untamed beauty caught in the storm of their desires. He kissed her roughly, tasting both her essence and the remnants of her submission, savouring the sweet agony that hung between them. 

In that moment, boundaries dissolved, and all that remained was the intoxicating connection they shared—the thrilling dance on the precipice of overwhelming desire. Together, they were everything and nothing, lost in a world where only they existed, where the lines between pleasure and pain blurred, leading them to the brink of ecstasy.

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

Rafe had no idea how they had wound up in this entangled embrace, lost in the shadows of the late evening. It felt surreal, almost as if he had stepped into a fantasy woven from the fabric of his deepest desires. Yet in this electrifying moment, he couldn’t afford to drift away into that dreamlike state; his attention was locked entirely on her.

He was on top of her, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, one of his legs nestled between her thighs while the other dangled precariously over the edge of the couch. The very air around them buzzed with an intensity that made the room seem smaller, the world outside a distant memory. His fingers dug into her hip as he held her right leg over his shoulder, grounding them both in their shared pleasure.

A soft, breathy moan escaped her lips, reverberating through him like a siren’s call. As he thrust into her roughly, her nails raked down his back, leaving fiery trails of sensation that sent a jolt of desire coursing through his veins. Rafe was becoming increasingly lost in the pleasure building within him, a potent force that threatened to consume him, making coherent thought nearly impossible. 

Her nails dug deeper into his skin, coaxing out a low, primal growl against the curve of her neck, the sound resonating like a raw confession. “Keep doing that, sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice thick with need, the air around them charged and electric.

“Fuck—don’t stop—” she whimpered, her plea spilling into his ear, her eyes gleaming with a mix of desperation and longing that sent shivers down his spine.

“Don’t stop, what?” Rafe whispered in return, a teasing edge to his tone as his hips slowed, savouring the moment, every heartbeat stretching the intensity. It was a familiar game for them—one he relished, one that drove him wild with both power and attraction. 

He knew he was being mean, pushing her just enough to make the tension thrum in the air between them. Each moment spent watching her struggle with the overwhelming desire to have him fully, to feel complete release—it drove him to the brink of madness. He wanted to see her at her most vulnerable, to hear her voice crack as she surrendered completely.

“Please! Please don’t stop!” she cried out, her wide eyes locked onto his, a shimmering mixture of desperation and dauntlessness as the band of tension within her continued to stretch taut, ready to snap. 

That earnest plea ignited something deep within him—it was both a challenge and an invitation. Her vulnerability was a tapestry woven with threads of longing that pulled at every longing instinct in him. He could feel the urgency in the way her body twitched beneath him, her need palpable and irresistible. 

Rafe’s breath quickened as he paused for just an instant, relishing her desperation, before diving back into the depths of their connection. There was no holding back now; the tension that had been building couldn’t be contained any longer. He thrust into her with renewed vigour, each movement a primal dance of shared need, a rhythm that echoed with the promise of release. 

Their world shrank to just the two of them, an intoxicating moment where nothing else mattered—no pasts intertwined or futures were uncertain, just the fierce heat they created together. The boundaries of their beings melded into each other, collapsing under the force of their passion.

In that engulfing haze, as she gasped and moaned beneath him, he pushed them both closer to the edge, where pleasure and surrender waited. He could feel her nearing her peak, the once-stretched band about to snap—a glorious release that promised to shatter them both and send them soaring into oblivion. Rafe wasn’t sure what would come next, but the journey to that ultimate climax was a ride he never wanted to end.

In that moment, Rafe felt the last threads of restraint snap. He was too far gone to care about the world outside, too consumed by her need and the intoxicating energy that enveloped them. His muscles tensed like a bowstring, taut and ready to release. Without breaking his rhythm, he lifted her leg from his shoulder, and with a firm grip, he repositioned it around his waist, feeling her skin beneath his fingers—a reminder of the closeness they shared.

As her legs tightened around him, she began to rock back and forth, surrendering completely to the rhythm between them. Each movement sent shockwaves through her body, and she cried out breathlessly, “Oh—oh! Shit! RAFE!” The sound of her voice, filled with unbridled lust, spiralled into the air, uncaring of neighbours or the world outside.

Rafe gritted his teeth, a growl rumbling deep within his chest as he pressed his face against her neck. The way she called his name—a raw, unfiltered plea—sent his self-control spiralling into oblivion. The weight of passion bore down on him until he could barely breathe. He pulled away slightly, locking his gaze onto hers, the intensity palpable between them. “Do that again, I’m so close.” he murmured, watching the way her pupils danced, dilated with want.

“Rafe!” She whispered hoarsely, her breath fanning across his face, a potent mix of desperation and affection evident in every quaver of her voice. 

At that moment, something primal snapped inside him. It was as if the world beyond their cocoon faded entirely, leaving only his aching desire for her. All of his frustrations, his hurt, evaporated as he focused solely on the beautiful woman in his arms. Igniting with a fierce need, he leaned down, capturing her lips with a rough, deep kiss that robbed them both of air. He poured everything into that moment, a wildness he could no longer contain, driving his hips into her with a relentless tempo.

Her cry against his lips was music to his ears, the brutal force of his desire pulling her deeper into the swell of pleasure. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” she gasped, a symphony of ecstasy that swallowed them both in its intensity.

He lost himself in her response, swallowing her cry with a deep, hungry moan as their mouths moved against one another, urgent and needy. His hands cradled her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her with fervour, desperately trying to gather all the pieces of her within him. 

But in that moment, still hunger gnawed at him, an insatiable craving that urged him to go deeper, to explore further. He pulled back slightly, depriving them both of just a breath, before capturing her lower lip between his teeth and biting it gently, a possessive yet tender gesture filled with the promise of more.

Every ounce of his being was consumed by her, the air thick with desire and longing. This wasn’t just a union of bodies; it was a raw exchange of souls, a moment that would bind them forever in the relentless tide of passion that swept through them. As he surrendered to that need, Rafe knew there was no going back, no restraint left between them—only the exhilarating plunge into a world that belonged to them alone.

“Rafe—I can’t—I can’t take it—” Her voice trembled, nuanced with both pleasure and desperation, as tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head and sobbed softly, her nails digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself as if that small contact could ground her.

“You can,” Rafe murmured against her lips, his breath hot with unyielding conviction. His arms wrapped around her body, holding her in place, his strength a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within her. He knew better than anyone: she could handle more than she thought possible. Even if every nerve in her body screamed to stop, he would be there to push her further.

“Fuck—Rafe—I—I can’t—” she cried out again, words barely escaping her lips as her eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the sensations threatening to consume her. The muscles in her thighs shook around his hips, a frantic testament to the struggle within.

“Sweetheart…” His voice was a whisper against her neck as he leaned in closer. “You can. Remember that time you took me all night when you were high? You can’t tell me you can’t take me like this when you’re sober.” 

A teasing edge coloured his words, a playful challenge that shattered the last remnants of her resistance. 

She sobbed at his insistence, each word reverberating through her, amplifying the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. Even in her nearly paralyzed state of ecstasy, her hips bucked instinctively, fueled by the memory of their past.

“Rafe…” Her voice was a breathy whisper, caught between surrender and confusion.

“There we go…” he murmured, a sly grin creeping onto his lips, sensing that she was teetering on a precipice of both despair and desire. 

With a deliberate control that both excited and scared her, Rafe began to pick up his pace again. He knew she was reaching her limits, but it was a limit he was determined to push further. His fingers dug deeper into her skin, holding her in place, a steady presence grounding her amidst the tempest of sensations. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t take it now,” he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “Don't you want to be a good girl for me, baby?”

In a haze of longing and exhaustion, she nodded desperately, her legs dangling in the air as she gazed up at him with eyes clouded by lust.

“Good girl.” His voice was laced with approval, a honeyed edge enveloping each word. He captured her lips once more, kissing her roughly and hungrily as his pace quickened, igniting a deeper passion that coursed through them both. Rafe’s body felt molten, every muscle straining at the edges of his control, a taut wire ready to snap.

As the heat of their shared intimacy enveloped them, she reached down, fingers grasping his ass, coaxing a shudder from him that sent ripples of pleasure up her spine. Rafe stilled for a moment, groaning loudly into her ear, surrendering to the high of their connection, his body shaking with intensity. 

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” she whispered against his lips as he felt himself teetering on the edge of his own release, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

Shit… He hadn’t expected the vulnerability behind her words. Especially not now. Not while he was still coming down from that intoxicating high, his entire body sensitive and alive. 

Rafe buried his face in the crook of her neck, each deep breath filled with warmth as he groaned, “...never leaving you…” His voice was strained, almost hoarse, the promise lingering heavily in the air, pumping into her to the brim.

“What was that?” Her grip tightened around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, insistent.

Damnit… The way she tightened her hold reminded him of the depth of their bond, making him tremble with an intensity that had nothing to do with their physical connection. He pulled his head away, lifting it to meet her gaze, his heavy-lidded eyes searching her face, mere inches apart now.

“I’m not leaving you. Ever,” he breathed, the words spoken softly yet firmly against her lips, a vow built on the foundations of intimacy they had forged together.

She smiled, a grin bursting forth with satisfaction. “Good. 'Cause you’re mine.” 

The room was thick with the heavy silence of lingering tension. Rafe lay sprawled on her breasts, his body utterly spent from their recent exertions. He glanced at her, frustration flaring in his chest, but all he could muster was a weary sigh that echoed like a sigh of defeat. God, you insufferable woman…, he thought, staring down at her, feeling the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him like a solid wall. 

He could feel her gaze piercing through the dim light, unrelenting, demanding a response that he simply didn’t have the energy to give. The corners of his lips twitched into a faint, disbelieving grimace. 

“What?” She asked in confusion, wondering how she managed to ruin his mood this time.

His deadpan expression seemed to suck the life out of her playful banter. Her smile, once bright and teasing, faltered under the weight of his indifference.

 “You’re still talking,” he mumbled with a fatigue-laden tone, rolling away from her—finally breaking free from the intimate confines of their close quarters. 

His body protested at the slightest movement, each joint aching as he shifted, a reminder of how tightly he had held himself through it all. Sweat clung to him like a second skin, and his breath was still ragged in his chest, refusing to be tamed. Was it the heat of the moment or just sheer tension? Either way, it rent his thoughts asunder like a fraying rope.

With another deep sigh, he collapsed onto his back beside her, flinging an arm over his eyes, desperate to escape the world for just a five-minute reprieve. 

“And?” she teased, her voice infusing the air with a playful challenge. “I thought you liked hearing my voice.”

He felt her presence beside him, the warmth radiating from her body still fresh in his memory. “I’m starting to question that right now,” He said bitterly, the exhaustion stinging his every nerve. “Can’t you shut up for five minutes? I’m tired.” His voice came out muffled and strained, the groan escaping his lips a testament to his weariness.

A scoff escaped her, rich with indignation. He could imagine the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder, an act habitual in moments like these. He felt her rise, the rustle of fabric breaking the spell of silence as she reached for her robe to drape over her sweat-slicked skin.

“Why do you talk to me like that, Rafe?” Her words slipped out softly, tinged with something deeper, something vulnerable that cut through the air like a shard of glass.

He turned slightly, catching the edge of her expression; the way her eyes searched his, desperate for a glimpse beneath the surface. In that moment, he understood that it was never just playful banter or teasing. She sought something more—answers, connection, clarity in a world shrouded in ambiguity. 

The tension in his chest tightened, a mix of exasperation and an undeniable appreciation for the depth of her soul. But he didn’t have the strength to unravel that knot, not now. Instead, he let silence take the lead, hoping that it would bridge the gap between their tangled hearts, even if just for a moment.

Ah, great. She’s being sensitive again, he thought, a bitterness tugging at the corners of his mind. With a resigned sigh, Rafe opened his eyes, forced to confront the fallout he desperately wanted to avoid. He didn’t want to engage in this conversation—not now, not when sleep was so painfully close yet so overwhelmingly out of reach.

“Like what?” he asked, the fatigue evident in his voice, watching her movements as she gracefully slipped on her robe. It was a sight that usually filled him with warmth, but now it felt like a dismissal, a retreat.

“Like you—like I’m nothing. No one to you.” Her words poured out, unguarded and quivering, as though she was straining against the weight of unarticulated emotions.

The growing darkness in Rafe’s gaze mirrored the frustration brewing within him, a tempest of emotions he was not well-equipped to navigate. His exhaustion morphed into annoyance as he realised that he couldn’t simply close his eyes and escape. No, now he had to confront this. 

“How am I talking to you like you’re nothing? How?” he repeated, his voice edged with irritation, the tiredness making his tone more cutting than he intended.

“You just fucked me and then asked me to shut up and leave you alone. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that, Rafe?” Her disbelief radiated from her, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“I’m not one of your little whores, Rafe. I’m your girlfriend!” The weight of her words hung heavily in the charged air, each syllable a jagged blade that carved deeper into his heart. 

Rafe stared back at her, but instead of the warmth he often felt upon seeing her, he was met with a rising pool of frustration. How could she always manage to pull him into these emotional whirlwinds? How could she navigate him into corners he desperately wished to avoid? It was infuriating yet somehow disarmingly effective. 

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, letting out a deep sigh, grappling with his thoughts. “I told you to shut up and leave me alone because I’m tired,” he replied, forcing himself to keep his voice steady, to remain patient, but the undertone of his annoyance seeped through. “I just want five minutes of silence so I can rest.”

The disbelief in her eyes cut deeper than any insult he could have hurled. Upset flickered across her features as she processed the disconnect between their realities, her heart sinking under the weight of unacknowledged feelings. He could see the hurt reflected back at him, a stark reminder that he was failing to grasp the depth of her vulnerability.

The room was heavy with unspoken words, the shadows of earlier emotions lurking in every corner. Rafe sat on the couch, wrestling with the growing tension that seemed to envelop the space. He watched as she stood before him, her expression a bittersweet mixture of disbelief and hurt. It was a look that twisted something deep within him, an echo of the connection they once shared, now frayed and worn from misunderstanding.

“Yeah. Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely loud enough to shatter the silence, but its resonance lingered, wrapping around her heart like a vice. She turned away, exhaustion pooling in her chest, and made her way back into their room, each step heavy with dejection.

Rafe cursed silently, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the couch, every bit of him resisting the urge to simply retreat into solitude. He didn’t want to delve into feelings or sift through the rubble of emotions tonight. All he desired was the comforting embrace of sleep, but now he had to follow her—of all things, fantastic.

He stepped into the bedroom, where she lay on her side of the bed, lost in her thoughts, the space between them thick with unspoken words. Rafe’s heart sank as he observed her, a mix of dejection and annoyance swirling within him. Why was it so hard to communicate? Why did every encounter feel like a minefield?

Moments passed in silence, the tension palpable, until he finally broke it. “Are you seriously upset right now?” His voice was weary, tinged with annoyance as he sought to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding.

“I’m not upset,” she whispered softly, the words a fragile shield against his scrutiny.

He stared at her for a few seconds, feeling frustration creep up his spine like icy fingers. Leaning back, he ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Bullshit. That’s your upset, moping tone.” He pushed himself off the edge of the bed, striding closer.

“I’m not moping,” she replied quietly, keeping her back turned, a wall of defensiveness built between them.

Rafe let out an exasperated grunt, settling himself on the edge of the bed next to her while deliberately maintaining a space between them. “Then what are you doing?” he asked, tiredness clouding his voice. He felt powerless to penetrate the veil of her silence.

“I’m sleeping,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, an attempt to ignore the turbulence between them.

Rafe rolled his eyes, a deep sigh escaping his lips. Frustrating. It felt as if she wanted to ignite a conflict, to keep the fire of their argument stoked instead of allowing it to die.

 “Cut the crap, sweetheart. You’re not asleep,” he retorted. “You’re upset because I told you to shut up for five minutes.”

“Oh? So you do know,” she shot back, her eyes fixed ahead as if refusing to acknowledge the storm raging within her.

“I’m not an idiot, okay? I can tell when you’re being moody and mopey and stuff.” His voice was sharper than he intended, but the truth left him raw. “I just don’t understand why you got so upset about it. I was tired, and I wanted to rest. Is it that big of a deal?”

Finally, her resolve slipped away as she turned to look at him, her gaze probing and unwavering. For a moment, their connection crackled with an intensity that bordered on something sacred yet shattered. He had to contain the urge to roll his eyes again; frustration twisted in his gut as he tried to make sense of everything unfolding.

His body longed for sleep, but his heart refused to surrender to oblivion while she lay there—a tangle of sadness, anger, and confusion. “Can’t you just get over it?” he asked tiredly, searching her eyes for a flicker of understanding.

A softness enveloped her expression as she smiled gently, a serene resolution washing over her. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek, her eyes trying desperately to memorise the contours of his face, the warmth radiating from her touch piercing through his armour. “Okay, baby,” she whispered softly, and in that moment, the air shifted, the tension momentarily dissipating.

Rafe felt his heart race, a pulse of warmth igniting within him at her gentle gesture. The subtle shift in her expression caught him off guard, and the tender timbre of her voice almost managed to chase away the shadows of exhaustion that had loomed over him.

“Are you being sarcastic?” he asked quietly, leaning into her touch, curiosity dancing in his eyes. 

“No,” she replied softly, shaking her head, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She sat up, propping herself against the headboard, her eyes a steady gaze that seemed to trace every contour of his face. “I mean it. You won’t have to deal with that anymore.”

As Rafe watched her move, confusion mingled with a flicker of hope in his eyes. What exactly was she trying to convey? The persistent doubts in his mind battled with the warmth he felt in her presence. He licked his dry lips, feeling a tightening in his chest as she stared at him with an intensity that dug deep into his very being.

“So we’re good?” he managed to ask, his voice rasping like gravel, desperation tinged with a fragile hope.

“Yeah, baby. We’re good,” she affirmed, a gentle nod accompanying her words. She kept her gaze trained on him, almost as if she were trying to imprint every detail into her memory, her thumb brushing delicately against his cheek.

Christ, She’s acting weird, Rafe thought to himself, unable to shake off the sense of urgency that accompanied her additional attention. It was as if she were both a comfort and an enigma, and that reality weighed heavy on him. He leaned against her hand again, lost in the depths of her gaze, wondering why she was looking at him as if he were a fragile treasure, one she feared might slip away.

“Stop saying it like that,” he whispered, a pleading tone breaking through as he struggled to articulate the subtleties of the moment. 

“Like what?” she asked softly, curiosity mingling with concern, her brows furrowing slightly. 

He found it difficult to frame his thoughts into words. It went beyond mere expression; it was a feeling that coursed through him. “I don't know. Like… like you’re never gonna see me again,” he replied, his voice nearly inaudible, each word laced with unguarded vulnerability as his eyes bore into hers.

She smiled softly in response, her eyes shimmering with mixed emotions that spanned from tenderness to a hint of melancholy. “Go to sleep, Rafe.” 

He let out a weary sigh, the weight of exhaustion crashing over him like waves against a jagged shore. Why did it have to feel like this? He did not relish the thought of confronting these emotions while she continued to look at him with such intensity. Too damn tired—his mind a jumble of emotions that felt foreign to him.

With a slight grimace, he leaned in to press a gentle yet firm kiss against her cheek. It was an instinctive gesture, but as he rolled onto his side, turning his back to her, he felt the sting of vulnerability burn through him. “Goodnight,” he muttered, the words trailing off as if they carried the weight of all that remained unsaid between them.

As she lay there, a pained smile tugging at her lips, she watched him—a solid back turned against her, the sound of his steady breathing marking the passage of time. She could almost hear the unvoiced thoughts swirling in his mind, and it twisted her heart. She waited for him to drift into sleep, wrestling with the silent ache that ached in the distance created by their unbridgeable emotional chasm. It was a bittersweet moment, one that would linger long after the lights went out, forever imprinted in her memory.

The night draped its heavy cloak over Rafe as sleep swept him away, exhaustion wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. Every muscle in his body, still sore from the intimacy they shared, felt heavy, and within moments, he was deep in slumber, breathing steadily as the world faded away.

Meanwhile, in the silence of the house, she moved like a ghost. Each action was deliberate and hushed as she packed her belongings, the soft sound of zippers and fabric whispering against the stillness. The bittersweet ache in her heart conflicted with the urgency of her decision. She slipped into her car, the engine’s low growl breaking the quiet, and drove away from the house that held both precious and painful memories.

Back inside, Rafe remained blissfully unaware of her departure, cocooned in the warmth of sleep until an hour had passed. Slowly, clarity seeped into his consciousness, dispelling the grogginess. He turned, instinctively reaching for her, craving her warmth beside him, only to find the sheets cold and empty. Confusion pierced through the drowsiness, and he blinked against the shadows of the room, the absence of her presence sending an icy shiver down his spine.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep. Silence echoed in response, deepening the pit of unease forming in his stomach. Throwing the covers aside, he climbed out of bed, frustration bubbling under the surface. With heavy steps, he opened the bedroom door and ventured into the darkness of the house.

“Baby?” he tried again, his voice rising in volume, infused with desperation. Each empty room he entered increased his confusion, every corner he peered into yielding only shadows. Jesus Christ… where was she?

Rafe's heart raced as he searched every nook, each room offering no trace of her. Panic began to weave its way through his mind, tightening its grip as he ran a frustrated hand through his tousled hair. The house felt emptier with each passing moment, the silence wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud.

Back at the entrance, he paused, scanning the area for any clue, any sign that she had been there. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. You’re not leaving me. You wouldn’t. But the truth weighed heavily on his chest; he felt it suffocating him, each second that passed churned his stomach around a pit of anxiety.

With renewed vigour, he ricocheted back through the house, tearing through spaces that had once felt like home. He looked under beds, behind chairs, everywhere his mind could conjure up—but the search was met with stark rejection. Just as hopelessness began to take root, something caught his eye on the kitchen counter.

A piece of paper. The familiarity of her handwriting ushered in a wave of dread as he approached it, heart pounding in his ears. The words were like daggers, piercing through the fog of confusion and anger:

 Goodbye, Rafe. I’ll keep your secrets.

He blinked in disbelief, reading it again, his mind struggling to process the reality of it. The world around him blurred as he clenched the paper, white-knuckled with rage and hurt. 

With a sudden, primal need to act, he crushed the note in his fist and hurled it to the floor, a torrent of curses spilling from his lips, silence mocked him in return. The ache in his chest twisted tightly under his rib cage; he wanted to run after you, but where? How could he start seeking someone he didn’t even know where to find? 

In desperation, he searched for his phone, turning the living room upside down in his frantic quest, but it eluded him. His gaze caught a clock on the wall—its steady ticking serving as a cruel reminder of time slipping away. It was a little past eight in the evening, and the impending darkness loomed ominously.

His heart sank further as the implications settled in. He felt like a man drowning, alone in the vast expanse of uncertainty, and the realisation struck him like a blow: 

You had chosen to leave.

He ran a hand down his face, the weight of his worry settling deep into his chest. His thoughts raced as he paced the room, desperate to figure out the best place to begin. He didn’t need a text. He didn’t need a voicemail. He needed her. He needed to hear her voice, to know she was safe.

Rafe’s mind churned with every worst-case scenario imaginable. She was out there, somewhere, and she was alone. That thought clawed at him, driving him nearly mad.

The phone rang once.

Then twice.

Three times.

Four.

No answer.

His heart sank further with each unanswered ring, frustration bubbling to the surface. He tossed the phone onto the couch, raking his hands through his hair. Where was she? Why wasn’t she picking up?

Meanwhile, she sat in her car, parked at the edge of the OBX bridge. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, indecision weighing heavily on her shoulders. She had been ready to leave, to cross that invisible line and never look back. But then, his face had crept into her thoughts. The memory of his voice, the way he looked at her—it was enough to give her pause.

Rafe sat down heavily on the couch, his foot tapping nervously against the floor. He picked up his phone and dialled her number again, his pulse pounding in his ears. This time, the line connected.

“Hello?” His voice came out rushed, uneven.

On the other end, she sighed softly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him close his eyes in relief. She had answered. She was there.

“…Hey,” he said, his voice gentler now, though still laced with a quiet desperation. “Where are you?”

Her silence on the other end was deafening. He leaned forward, gripping the phone as though sheer force could drag the words out of her.

“Are you safe?” he asked, quieter this time.

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, reluctant but real.

Rafe exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. She was safe. That was something. But not enough.

“Can you tell me where you’re safe, sweetheart?” His tone was soft but edged with the frustration he couldn’t quite hide.

She hesitated before answering, her voice carrying the weight of her conflict. “At the edge of OBX’s border.”

His eyes flew open, his chest tightening again. The border? Why the hell is she at the border?

“You haven’t crossed it, have you?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly under the strain of his emotions.

Her response was soft, hesitant. “I’m trying to.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, his grip on the phone tightening. She was so close to slipping away, and the thought made his stomach churn.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and steady, though desperation lingered beneath it. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

Her head rested against the seat as she closed her eyes, torn between the road ahead and the voice on the line. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy with everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

Rafe’s entire body went rigid at her words. The silence that followed was deafening, stretching between them like a chasm. He took a deep breath, trying to force down the emotions threatening to explode. His heart was a relentless drumbeat in his chest, each thud more painful than the last.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone as he took another breath, trying to rein himself in. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but laced with barely restrained intensity.

“Turn around,” he said, his tone firm, commanding.

Her response was a broken whisper, the kind of sound that could bring a man to his knees. “I can’t.”

Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, the pain in her voice cutting through him like a blade. His frustration melted away in an instant, replaced by an ache so deep it left him breathless.

Her sobs made his chest tighten. His fist clenched around the phone, the urge to pull her into his arms overwhelming him. But she wasn’t here—she was out there, slipping further away.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softening, desperation seeping into every word. “Please. Just turn around. Come back to me.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words shattering him. “I can’t come back. I can’t do it anymore—I can’t do this anymore.”

Rafe shot to his feet, emotions surging through him like a tidal wave—frustration, desperation, anger, and despair all colliding at once.

“Bullshit!” he barked into the phone, his voice raw with emotion. “You cannot leave me, do you understand me?!”

“Rafe, please—” she cried softly, her voice trembling.

“No!” he snapped, his anger flaring. “You listen to me!”

His voice cracked, his emotions taking over. He was done with the running, the silence, the walls she kept putting up. She couldn’t leave—not this time. He wouldn’t let her.

“You do NOT get to run away,” he growled, his tone harsh but desperate. “Not this time. Tell me why, sweetheart. Why do you keep doing this? Can you even give me a valid reason?!”

Her sobs grew louder, her voice breaking as she finally answered. “I can’t do this anymore, Rafe! You’re so mean to me!”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his throat.

“Mean?” he repeated, his voice dropping, almost disbelieving. “Mean, sweetheart? Is that what you think I am?”

He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the phone like a lifeline. He wished—needed—her to be standing in front of him. This distance, this separation, was unbearable.

“Goddamnit,” he growled. “I’m mean, I’m harsh, I’m an asshole. I’ll admit that. But are those really good enough excuses for you to leave me?”

Her response came through choked sobs, each word tearing at his heart. “You’re like that all the time now, Rafe. It hurts me so much when you treat me like that. The only time I feel like you love me is when you’re fucking me. And after that, it’s like you can’t stand me anymore.”

Her voice broke completely, the anguish pouring out. “I can’t… I can’t do it again.”

Rafe stood frozen, her words sinking in like stones, each one pulling him deeper into the abyss. He didn’t respond—not right away. He couldn’t. He had no idea how to fix this, how to pull her back from the edge when she was already so far gone.

And yet, he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. Not on her. Not on them.

The words hit him low, a blow that knocked the air out of his lungs. His shoulders tensed, and his entire body seemed to tremble with the force of his suppressed emotions. He gritted his teeth so hard it felt like they might crack, his fist tightening around the phone until his knuckles went white.

He hated it when she said things like that. Hated it even more because, deep down, he knew there was truth in her words. And that only made it hurt worse.

“That’s bullshit,” he muttered hoarsely, his throat raw. “You know I love you.”

Her voice came through the line, broken and fragile, a sharp contrast to his. “No, you don’t—”

“Yes, I DO!” he yelled, his frustration boiling over in a fiery burst.

The room felt too small, the air too thick. He couldn’t believe she thought that. Did he really seem so cold, so distant? He thought he had shown her—time and time again—how much she meant to him. And yet, here she was, doubting it, doubting him.

He dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing, to regain some semblance of control. He didn’t want to yell. He didn’t want to fight. But the thought of her walking away was unbearable.

“Please don’t yell at me, Rafe,” she said, her voice trembling as soft cries broke through.

Damnit.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of her tears, his chest tightening painfully. He hated himself for letting his anger slip, for making her cry when all he wanted was to hold her, to keep her close.

“God…” His voice cracked as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. Please don’t cry, okay? I’m not trying to fight with you.” His tone softened to a whisper, thick with desperation.

“I don’t want to fight with you either,” she said softly, sniffling on the other end.

Her words, though quiet, were a relief. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing just slightly.

“Then don’t leave me,” he said, his voice quieter now, pleading. “Don’t run away just because we get into stupid fights.”

Her sigh was audible, followed by the sound of another quiet sob. “You know it’s not just that.”

“I know that!” he snapped, frustration sparking again before he forced himself to rein it in.

He knew all the reasons why she was saying this—why she felt the way she did. He knew how cold he could be after their fights, how he sometimes treated her like she was just… there. A fleeting thing, instead of the person who mattered most.

And he hated himself for it.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, his voice raw and cracking. “I know I’ve been… distant. I know I’ve hurt you. But god, I can’t lose you. Not like this. Please, just—don’t go.”

The line was quiet for a moment, her soft cries the only sound he could hear. It was a sound that tore through him, leaving him feeling more helpless than ever.

“Rafe—”

Her voice was barely a whisper, a fragile plea breaking through the tension.

“No.” He cut her off immediately, his voice sharp and commanding. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to swallow the rising panic threatening to overtake him.

“Please,” he said, softer this time. His tone was strained, nearly cracking under the weight of his desperation. “Just listen to me. You know we can work on the other stuff, right? We can fix this. I know we can.”

She hesitated on the other end, her breath catching in her throat. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s not just you. It’s me. I’m—I’m messed up, Rafe. I’m too sensitive. I know I burden you, and I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For hitting you last night. I shouldn’t have—”

Her words dissolved into soft, broken sobs, each one slicing through him like a blade.

“You’re not a burden, sweetheart. You never have been,” he whispered, closing his eyes as if shutting out the world would make this moment easier.

But it didn’t.

The image of her last night, the flash of pain in her eyes before her hand struck him, replayed in his mind. And it hurt—not because she had hit him, but because of the anguish behind it.

“Do you really think I can’t handle you?” he asked, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion.

“It’s not about that,” she whispered after a moment. “You shouldn’t have to. I—I’m sorry, Rafe. I’d rather drive myself off this bridge than ever hurt you like that again.”

Her voice cracked with emotion, and the words hit him like a freight train.

“Stop talking like that!” he shouted, his voice cracking as he lost control. “Stop saying I’d be better off without you! You don’t get to decide that for me!”

There was a silence on the line, broken only by her soft, muffled sobs.

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I’ve decided to leave. Because we can’t keep doing this. We’re not—we don’t belong together, Rafe.”

His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. Her words were a dagger, twisting deeper with every syllable.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low and raw. His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white as his anger and pain swirled together.

“You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to say you love me one minute and then leave the next because things get hard. That’s not how this works!”

“Rafe—” she started, her voice shaking.

“No! Listen to me!” he nearly shouted, his desperation bubbling over.

He could feel himself unravelling, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t going to give up on them, not if he had anything to say about it.

“I love you!” he said, his voice loud and clear, his chest aching with the force of those three words.

The silence on the line stretched for a moment. He could hear her soft breaths, could imagine the way her tears clung to her lashes, her lip trembling.

He took advantage of the pause, his voice dropping to something softer, something raw.

“I love you, sweetheart. I really do. You’re not a burden. You don’t hurt me.” His voice cracked again, but he pressed on. “I don’t want you to leave. I can’t lose you.”

Her silence was deafening, but he could feel her wavering, the barriers she had built around herself beginning to crumble.

“I don’t care if we fight sometimes,” he continued, his voice steady now. “I don’t give a damn about the bad days. I still love you. That doesn’t change.”

Another soft breath escaped her, a sound so quiet he almost missed it. But it was there—an acknowledgment, a crack in her resolve.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t leave, okay?.”

The line was quiet, but he could feel it. She was still there. And for now, that was enough.

The question hung in the air, sharp and piercing, breaking the silence between them.

“If I come back,” she asked, her voice trembling but resolute, “will you never see Sofia again?”

He stiffened, his shoulders going rigid at her words. He had been expecting this—had known it was coming—but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the wall, biting the inside of his lip hard enough to taste blood. He couldn’t answer right away. The weight of her question pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting.

He didn’t want to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice low and measured.

“I won’t see her again without you knowing about it.”

The words left his mouth carefully, but he already knew they weren’t enough.

On the other end of the line, her heart sank. Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles white as the truth settled over her like a cold, suffocating blanket.

“Goodbye, Rafe,” she said, her tone hollow and final.

Before he could say another word, the line went dead.

He stared at the phone in his hand, his chest tightening as the realisation of what just happened hit him.

“Fuck!” he growled, the curse ripping from his throat as he hurled his phone against the wall. The sharp crack of plastic breaking filled the room, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the silence she left behind.

He stood there for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His fists clenched at his sides as he tried to compose himself, but the knot in his stomach only tightened.

She was gone.

She had actually done it.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if the motion could dispel the truth. “She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t leave me like that.”

But deep down, he knew she would.

She was driving now, crossing the border, her jaw set and her eyes blurred with tears. Her phone lay discarded in the passenger seat, and her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they ached.

No matter how much he said he loved her, no matter how many times he swore she was the only one, she couldn’t shake the shadow of Sofia.

Sofia—the name that haunted her, the specter that lingered in every kiss, every touch, every whispered promise.

She couldn’t live like this, always wondering, always feeling like the other woman.

And so she drove. Away from him, away from the pain, away from a love that felt more like a battlefield than a safe haven.

Back in the room, he sank to the floor, his back against the wall as the weight of her absence pressed down on him. He told himself she would cool off, that she’d change her mind and come back.

She had to.

But the hollow ache in his chest whispered otherwise.

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

4 YEARS LATER

A few years had passed since she left the Outer Banks, but now, she was back—not to stay, not to reconnect, but to sever one last tie to her past. Selling her family’s estate was a necessary step, one she hoped to take quietly. She had no intention of seeing him again.

Rafe didn’t know she was back. He had stopped searching for her long ago, though the ache of her absence had never fully faded. He told himself he’d moved on, convinced himself that looking for her only prolonged the pain.

Tonight, he was at a gallery opening—nothing more than an excuse to drink expensive champagne and network with a few clients. The crowd was pretentious, the art unremarkable, but it was better than sitting at home drowning in memories.

Across the room, she stood by a painting, her head tilted slightly as she studied the contrasting reds on the canvas. She held a champagne glass in one hand, her posture composed and professional.

Rafe spotted her from the bar, and everything inside him froze.

Even after all this time, even from behind, he knew it was her.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He stood there, gripping his drink, trying to process the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Anger. Longing. Pain. Relief.

He hadn’t expected to see her, but now that she was here, he couldn’t stay away.

Straightening his coat, Rafe made his way across the gallery, his footsteps steady but his heart racing.

She didn’t notice him at first, lost in thought as she stared at the painting. Her silhouette was still the same, though there was something different about her—an air of detachment, a shield he hadn’t seen before.

“Good color choice,” he said softly, stopping beside her.

Her entire body stiffened at the sound of his voice. Her grip on the champagne glass tightened, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

“I knew I’d run into you eventually,” he added, his tone casual, though his chest felt tight. “You’re back in town, huh?”

Her voice came out steady, though she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “I’m not staying.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, even though he had braced himself for something like this.

“Why are you here, then?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. “I’m here to sell my family’s estate.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. The thought of her leaving again, of her cutting ties to this place, made his stomach churn.

“Didn’t know you were selling,” he said, his tone laced with quiet bitterness.

“Well, I have no use for it anymore,” she replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “It’s just millions of dollars sitting there.”

He wanted to snap back, to say something that would shatter the cold distance between them, but he held himself back. Fighting wouldn’t bring her closer.

They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the gallery fading into the background. Finally, he broke the quiet.

“Where are you going after this?”

She hesitated, cursing herself for answering. “I’m staying here for a week. Then I’m leaving after the deal is done.”

The words were like a knife to his chest. She was giving him a time limit, a countdown to when she’d be gone again.

Rafe’s hands clenched at his sides as he stared at the painting in front of them, his mind racing. He couldn’t let her leave without saying what he hadn’t said years ago.

But he also knew she wasn’t ready to hear it—not yet.

Jesus. A week?

His heart twisted painfully at the thought. Just a week. She was only sticking around for a week.

He clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He felt an almost desperate need to keep the conversation going, to ask her more questions, as if somehow, the words might tether her to this place, to him.

“Moving where?” he asked quietly, the restraint in his voice barely holding back the storm beneath.

“Back home,” she said curtly, her tone detached and sharp.

The ache in his chest deepened. The word home felt like a knife twist. He longed for her to look at him, to give him some glimpse of the person he had known so well, loved so deeply. But she wouldn’t. She kept her eyes on the glass of champagne in her hand, refusing to meet his gaze.

His hands tensed, the frustration building. His jaw worked as he fought to contain the anger and hurt bubbling inside him.

“What, to your fiancé?” The bitterness in his voice spilled over before he could stop it.

She inhaled deeply, staring down at the shimmering liquid in her glass. She shook her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“That’s none of your business, Rafe,” she said, her tone cold, distant.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the name on her lips like a slap. Not in the way it used to be, with warmth or affection, but clipped, impersonal, like he was a stranger.

“None of my business?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, the trigger clear in his expression.

She was speaking to him as if the last four years hadn’t happened, as if they’d never meant anything at all.

His body turned fully toward her now, and he leaned in, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed, his presence demanding her attention.

“How about we take this outside?” His voice was low but heated, the edge sharp enough to cut.

She stiffened, her gaze darting away, her shoulders drawing inward. “Absolutely not,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, still refusing to look at him.

Rafe scoffed, his fists clenching by his sides. He muttered under his breath, the word Jesus barely audible but laden with exasperation.

His eyes flicked around the room, noticing how heads were beginning to turn, curious glances cast in their direction.

“Will you keep it down? People are starting to look,” she hissed, her voice sharp but low, her lips curving into a forced smile for the onlookers as she glanced around nervously.

“I don’t care,” he snapped back, his voice taut with irritation.

He straightened up, his hand moving on instinct, reaching out to grab her elbow, to pull her away from the crowd, away from the scrutiny.

But she jerked her arm away before he could touch her. Her sharp motion and the glare she shot him stung more than he cared to admit.

“What are you doing?” she said harshly, her voice tinged with embarrassment, her eyes darting around.

“Just—” Rafe bit out, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, to rein in the fire burning in his chest. He exhaled sharply, lowering his voice.

“Just come with me, okay? We’ve got like five dozen people staring at us right now.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. Loud-Mouth?” she hissed back, sarcasm dripping from her words.

She downed the rest of her champagne in one fluid motion, grabbed her purse, and stormed out, leaving him standing there.

Rafe’s jaw clenched as he watched her walk away. There it was—that fiery, stubborn, infuriatingly bratty side of her that he hated to admit he loved. He had missed it, damn it.

Without a second thought, he followed her, catching up quickly and grabbing her wrist.

“What the fuck? Let go of me!” she snapped, glaring at the back of his head as he pulled her through the corridor toward a more private space.

He ignored her protests, his grip firm but not harsh. His silence spoke volumes. He was too frustrated, too wound up to argue in the middle of a crowded exhibition.

They stopped in front of an unoccupied office, and Rafe pulled her inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

“What the fuck, Rafe? I thought we were going outside! Open the door!” Her voice was sharp, her breathing uneven as she backed away from him, her chest heaving.

“Not when we have half the damn room watching us like we’re on some daytime soap opera!” he snapped, his frustration spilling over.

He locked the door behind him with a sharp click, leaning against it for a moment before turning to face her.

Finally. Finally, he allowed himself to look at her—really look at her.

She took a step back, her breathing shaky, her heart pounding. She hadn’t seen those piercing blue eyes in four years, and now they pinned her in place, unrelenting and full of everything she was trying to avoid.

“Open the fucking door, Rafe,” she said, her voice trembling, the words softer, hoarser now.

Her hands clutched her purse tightly, and she felt the walls around her heart beginning to crack.

But Rafe stood firm, his gaze locked on hers. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, didn’t falter.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice low, steady.

The air between them was heavy, charged with the weight of years of longing, anger, and the things left unsaid. And for the first time in years, there was no escape.

The room was heavy with silence, yet the air between them buzzed like a live wire.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his pulse erratic as his eyes finally drank her in. She stood a few feet away, her back turned, leaning on the desk with her palms pressed flat against its surface. Her head hung low, the dark waves of her hair cascading down her back.

The years had changed her. Her hair was longer, her frame leaner, her movements more poised. She had grown more refined in the time they had spent apart.

But she was still her.

Still the same fiery, stubborn, maddeningly beautiful woman he had fallen for so completely four years ago. The woman who had consumed him, heart and soul.

He took a tentative step forward, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as if holding himself back. His instinct, the overwhelming need to reach out to her, threatened to overpower him.

Behind her, he could see the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders with each deep breath she took. The black fabric of her dress hugged her in all the ways he remembered, every curve seared into his memory.

His jaw tightened. His chest ached. God, he thought, she’s so close, but it’s not close enough.

She shifted slightly, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the desk.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, barely audible.

His heart clenched. He could see it—the way she was struggling to maintain her composure, to keep him at arm’s length. Her walls were high, and he hated them.

He stepped closer, each movement careful and deliberate. He didn’t want to scare her, didn’t want her to bolt. He was right behind her now, the faintest hint of her perfume wrapping around him like a memory he couldn’t shake.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to close the gap, to touch her, to pull her into his arms. He wanted it all back—the laughter, the fights, the mornings tangled in sheets, the nights spent whispering secrets only they knew.

Her voice broke the silence again, a whispered chant of frustration.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of everything was too much.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The tension, the distance, the ache. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of her arm. The contact sent a jolt through him, the briefest reminder of what it felt like to touch her.

But she flinched as though burned.

“Don’t.”

Her voice was sharp as she pushed his hand away, circling the desk with purpose. Now facing him, her hands settled on her hips, and her eyes locked onto his with a familiar fire.

He let his hand fall to his side, his fingers curling into a fist once more. Her defiance, her resistance, her damn stubbornness—it was maddening. And yet, it was what he had loved most about her.

Her gaze bore into him, unflinching.

“What do you want, Rafe?” she asked, her tone laced with exasperation and exhaustion.

He clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair as his frustration threatened to spill over. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask.

He wanted to demand answers. Why had she left? Why hadn’t she looked back? Why was she selling the estate?

He wanted to beg her to leave her fiancé, to come back to him, to give them another chance.

But the way she stood there, her voice cold and detached, as if his wants and feelings didn’t matter—as if he didn’t matter—it shattered something inside him.

He met her gaze, his voice hoarse and raw when he finally spoke.

“You.”

Her breath hitched, but her expression didn’t soften. Instead, she groaned, her hand lifting to press against her forehead.

“Jesus,” she muttered, her disbelief thick in the air.

And there it was again—the unbearable tension. Four years of silence, of pain, of everything left unsaid, now crowding the small space between them.

“What’s the matter?” he snapped back, defensiveness rising like a tide around him. “You asked, so I’m giving you an answer! You know what I want, Y/N. I want you to come back home. I want to wake up in my bed again. I want to argue with you, fight with you, drive each other crazy like we always did. I. Want. You.”

Her reaction was immediate, filled with a biting sarcasm that cut through the air. “It’s been four years since I left your ass in the dust, Rafe. Have some fucking dignity.” 

He stiffened at her words, the sting of rejection urging him to retaliate. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried?” he shot back, his temper igniting like dry paper in a flame. “Do you know how many other girls I slept with after you left? I lost count.” The raw honesty clawed at him; he hated that he was revealing so much, trying desperately to assert his own importance in her life.

“Oh! Fantastic news! Bravo, Rafe! What a stud!” she clapped mockingly, and her sarcasm was a slap that ignited his fury.

“Jesus—” he growled under his breath, hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. He hated how she could goad him so easily, how every word from her lips felt like a deliberate jab. And yet, there was an uncomfortable truth rattling in the back of his mind: he deserved it. “You think this is funny?” he spat, his voice escalating with each syllable. “You think I was just fine after you left? You just vanished for four goddamned years!”

“I knew it would hurt,” she replied, an unexpected softness mingling with the anger in his heart. “But it was for the best. I did both of us a favor, Rafe.”

“How the hell did you do us both a favor? By leaving me hanging? Giving me no closure? Not letting me see you for four years?” His voice was nearly hoarse from the strain. The rawness of his emotions pushed him to the edge, a storm of pain swirling in his chest.

Her gaze softened as she studied him, a look of genuine pity etched into her features. “I’m sorry it had to be that way,” she said gently.

He hated that she could speak so tenderly while they stood amidst the wreckage of their past. He didn’t want her pity; he wanted to fight, to argue, to reclaim some piece of what they once had. Yet, seeing her look at him with that mournful expression twisted a knife in his gut. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice steady but strained, eyes piercing into hers. 

“Say what?” she asked, confusion flickering across her face.

“That you missed me.” The words tore from him, heavily laden with desperation. Rafe knew he was being unreasonable, even childish, but he couldn’t stem the tide of longing. It felt desperate to ask, but the need swirled around him, suffocating and relentless. All he wanted was to hear her say it, to feel a glimmer of hope that their bond hadn’t faded entirely.

“Rafe—” She sighed deeply, rubbing her temples, as if the very act of addressing him was a burden too great to bear.

The air between them thickened with unspoken words, memories lingering like the scent of rain on dry ground. Here they were, trapped in a room that echoed with the ghosts of love and loss, each yearning for something just beyond reach. 

Rafe’s heart ached with the unfulfilled longing, mirroring the look in her eyes—one that promised both a past they had lost and a future uncertain. He stood across her, jaw tight and teeth gritted. He fixed her with a burning gaze, a mix of irritation and desperation swirling within him. 

“Don’t try to weasel your way out of this, sweetheart. Say. It.” His voice was low and biting, an attempt to inject intimidation into a situation that already felt unbearably charged. 

She regarded him with an unwavering expression that only deepened his frustration. What was she thinking? What lay behind that calm facade? How could she be so composed when he felt like a live wire, ready to snap?

She snapped back, her own irritation bubbling to the surface. "I’m not trying to weasel my way out of anything!"

“Then say it!” he shot back, the heat of his temper flaring once more. This was too much—he was exhausted just standing there, wrestling with an entire world of emotions and memories. He didn’t understand how she could remain so unflappable in the storm swirling around them. Her calmness only fueled his anger, a reminder that she wielded that power over him like a weapon.

“Fine! Fuck! I missed you, okay?” The words burst from her mouth, sharp and raw.

Her outburst hit him like a tidal wave—one of the most gratifying sensations he had ever experienced. It was a crack in her armor, a confirmation that beneath that stoic exterior, she was still human, still affected by him. He took a deep breath, internalizing his triumph, wanting to savor this moment.

“What happened to the ‘I did us both a favor?’” A sly smirk crept onto his lips, complicating the tension in the air.

She gaped at him, disbelief flashing in her eyes. "You can't be serious."

Rafe smirked again, feeling like he was finally making headway after what felt like an eternity of silence between them. Being stubborn was her forte, but he had honed his own sense of persistence through years of their shared history. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, wanting to provoke a reaction. “You still owe me one more thing, sweetheart.”

“I don’t owe you shit. An apology for the way I broke up with you? Yes. Other than that? No way.” She snapped back, moving around the room to keep a safe distance.

Watching her pace around the desk, he felt a surge of frustration mixed with longing. Each step she took away felt like a wound. God, he just wanted to hold her, to pull her close, to bury his face in her hair and inhale that sweet scent he had ached for over the years.

“The way you broke up with me?” he echoed, bitterness lacing his words as he took another step forward, closing the heightening gap between them.

She continued to circle the desk, maintaining her distance, the space becoming a barrier that pained him. “I always felt bad about it,” she confessed, her voice softer now. “It was a shitty thing to do. I should’ve done it face to face, but—I was afraid that I would change my mind.”

Rafe swallowed hard against the rush of emotions that surged through him. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the weight of regret pressing on her shoulders. “Yeah. It was shitty. Shitty is a mild word for what you did.” His tone remained sharp, even as he closed the gap once more, navigating the complex landscape of his feelings.

And then, she whispered the words he had longed to hear, “I’m sorry, Rafe. I really am.”

A softness enveloped the moment, sincerity radiating from her features as she circled the desk. A wave of raw emotion crashed over Rafe, his mind struggling to process the weight of her apology. Her eyes—those familiar, pleading eyes—were begging him to let it go, to move past the hurt that had festered between them. 

He longed to give in; he ached to release the stubborn grip he had on his anger. But, God, he needed to hear her say it. 

“Not good enough,” he muttered, halting abruptly in his tracks, his gaze and frustration fixed on her as she circled the desk, tantalizingly inching closer.

“What do you want me to do, Rafe? You want me to beg you? To get on my knees and apologize for making the right decision, even if it was in the shittiest way possible?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, frustration seeping through every word, and Rafe could almost see the tension radiating off her.

“Yeah, actually, that sounds perfect,” he shot back, sarcasm barely masking his irritation. 

This back and forth was exhausting. Their shared history weighed heavily on his heart, suffocating the feelings of anger in the moment. He could feel the tension pulling them taut, and he knew he wasn’t going to be the one to remain coldhearted. 

“Jesus, Rafe—” she groaned, shaking her head in disbelief.

He growled in response, frustration bubbling to the surface once more. This was getting ridiculous. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to take a deep breath, but even that felt too hard in her presence.

“I don’t know why I’m trying to argue with you. You are so goddamn—” he trailed off, searching for the right word that could encapsulate his turmoil.

“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms defiantly as she stared at down, unwavering.

“Infuriating,” he finished bluntly, each syllable tinged with exasperation. 

As he stood there, patience thinning like a fraying rope, Rafe couldn’t help but take stock of her—standing across the desk, arms crossed, defiance painted across her features. He felt a rush of anger mingling with something softer and more familiar, something that drew him closer instead of pushing him away.

He wanted to impulsively throw something, to break the remaining tension, but he stopped himself. Arguing with her seemed futile. Time to change tactics.

“That’s funny; I was about to say the same thing about you,” she retorted, flashing him a sarcastic smile that lit up her eyes. 

That was exactly the opening Rafe had been waiting for. A smirk danced on his lips, his gaze sharpening with a hint of challenge. 

“Yeah?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to mirror her defiance. “What else do you want to say about me huh?” 

“I think you’re stubborn, unbelievably arrogant, and obnoxious—” she began, frustration lacing her voice as she counted out his faults on her fingers, completely forgetting to maintain the distance she had fought so hard to keep.

“Mhm, keep going,” he muttered softly, faking genuine intrigue.

He should have felt angered by her tirade, but it was exhilarating instead. He didn’t care that her words were shots fired directly at him. All he could focus on were her eyes, her voice, the way she animatedly recounted her grievances against him—when she spoke, she always took the spotlight, and he was helplessly captivated.

“—you’re selfish and the most conceited Kook I’ve ever met, unbelievably anal about the smallest things possible—” As she continued her list, he noticed she was finally allowing the distance to shrink, unaware of the fact that he was moving closer, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

Rafe's heart thundered in his chest as she continued her passionate tirade, listing all the things she hated about him. Each word poured from her lips like molten lava, fierce and unyielding, yet it brought a surge of nostalgia that he couldn't shake off. God, he missed listening to her talk, even if it was a litany of grievances about him. Her voice, once a source of endless irritation, now struck him as intoxicating.

Unable to resist, a smirk curled at the corners of his mouth. He took a small step closer, reveling in the way she was so engrossed in her rant that she didn’t notice his approach at first.

“I mean you—” she groaned in frustration, suddenly halting her speech as she found herself staring up into his towering gaze.

In that moment, Rafe became acutely aware of how close they were, close enough for him to see the flecks of gold dancing in her hazel eyes. The intensity of her gaze sent a thrill racing down his spine, igniting something deep within him. He adored this—her words like fire, spinning around them as he toyed with her emotions, and standing close enough to breathe in the floral sweetness of her perfume.

His smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he leaned down slightly, drawn to her magnetic energy. Yet, she faltered, stuttering as she stepped back, only to bump against the desk behind her. Perhaps it was foolish, but the moment was intoxicating, and he smirked at her moment of surprise.

As she tried to regain her composure, he seized the opportunity. He stepped into her space, utilizing the very limited room between her body and the table, pushing himself closer until she was completely boxed in. There was something undeniably electric about her being trapped between him and the solid surface of the desk, her expression a mix of shock and indignation as he watched her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink.

“I—” She stammered. Just as she tried to find an escape, he swiftly moved behind her. His hands gripped her waist with a possessive tenderness as he pressed himself flush against her back. Rafe could feel the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat through their shared contact, and his breath hitched at the proximity. Her frustration filled the air like a palpable force as she struggled against him.

“Let me go, Rafe! This isn’t funny!” she snapped shakily, her voice lined with determination as she attempted to pry his arms from around her.

But he reveled in the challenge. He wrapped his arms tighter, pulling her closer against his chest in a way that felt both maddening and comforting. She could feel the strength of his body melding with hers, and it sent shivers racing up her spine. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her—so achingly familiar, so achingly missed.

“God, I missed you so much,” he growled against her skin, the words slipping out in a heated whisper.

A shudder coursed through her at his admission, eyes slamming shut as she fought against the overwhelming flood of emotion. “Rafe—please—” she pleaded, grit in her voice, desperation lacing her words.

“Please, what?” he countered, his voice a low rumble, almost teasing, as he savored the moment. He inhaled deeply again, immersing himself in the sweetness of her fragrance that lingered in the air. 

He could hardly believe this was happening. It was as if time had bent just to bring them together again in this heated, chaotic moment. He couldn’t deny that the tantalizing closeness sent a thrill shooting through his veins; he felt alive, solidifying the truth he’d fought so hard to deny.

In an impulsive motion, Rafe shifted his head, pressing his lips against the column of her neck just below her ear, letting them linger there for a tantalizing moment. The heat radiating from her skin was intoxicating, and he knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning of the tempest of feelings threatening to engulf them both.

“Don’t do this. Let go of me.” Her voice wavered, a mix of determination and uncertainty as she squirmed in his strong arms, but Rafe held her tighter.

“Why not?” he murmured against her skin, feeling the tremble of her body resonating through him. Each shiver ignited a deep-seated hunger he struggled to contain.

His hands moved deliberately, gliding slowly upward along her stomach, brushing delicately against her ribs before resting over her chest. The frenetic rhythm of her heart pounded beneath his palm, and he savored the feeling, the heat radiating between them.

“F-fuck—” she stuttered, overcome by the sensation of his touch. Her head dipped forward and her body instinctively bent, pressing her backside accidentally against him, awakening something primal within Rafe.

He growled in response, the sound low and possessive, before biting down delicately on the sensitive skin of her neck—a thrill of control surging within him. His hands gripped her waist with a fierceness that betrayed his desire, an unyielding need to pull her closer, to press her against him, to feel her warmth enveloping him.

Every fiber of his being felt like it was on fire. He was losing control, intoxicated by the moment, intoxicated by her. He let his teeth drag against her neck as he spoke, his voice a hoarse growl, laced with want. “Say you missed me.”

“Rafe—” she whined, the sound a desperate plea that spurred him further into madness. She squirmed back against him, as if trying to escape, but every movement only fueled his desire.

He felt himself unraveling, every ounce of restraint slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. One hand slid lower, fingers daringly slipping beneath the hem of her dress, inching toward the softness of her skin. He pressed closer, reveling in the heat that radiated off her.

“I said,” he reiterated, his tone hardening as he gripped a fistful of her hair, gently tugging until her head tilted back against his shoulder, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck. “Say it.”

“Fuck—Rafe—” she whimpered, her legs quaking as his fingers explored the forbidden territory beneath her dress. 

He tightened his hold, each breath becoming more labored. He was being pushy, demanding, and he didn’t care. The desperate need for her was growing, consuming him entirely. He was the obsessive, controlling Kook he had always been, but in that moment, he only cared about one thing.

“Come on, baby,” he urged again, his voice low and raw, heavily laced with urgency.

“I missed you,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes as the truth slipped free from her lips.

The moment those words met his ears, something unfurled within him, spreading warmth through his chest that coursed all the way to his soul. Relief washed over him, suffocating the chaos that had gripped him for so long.

His hand released her hair, moving tenderly to trail his fingers down her throat, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse beneath his touch. He let out a low moan, the deep breaths he took echoing through the quiet room, rapid and heavy.

“Say it again,” he demanded, longing for more of her confession, more of her heart laid bare.

“Rafe—” she sighed, a soft, hesitant whisper, as her ass pressed back against him again, and he could sense the conflict raging inside her.

There they were, caught in a tempest of emotions, where desire battled with logic—a delicate dance that threatened to tip the scales into chaos. Rafe felt the world narrow down to just the two of them, the space between them crackling with tension as everything else fell away. All that mattered was her, his need for her, and the truth that hung in the air between them, waiting to be unleashed.

A deep groan escaped Rafe's lips as she pressed against him, every shift of her body igniting a fire that he struggled to control. His arousal swelled with each desperate movement she made, the heat between them palpable, urging him to close the distance even further. He couldn’t help himself, instinctually moving his hips forward, grinding back against hers with a fervor that spoke volumes of his need.

“Say it again,” he gritted out, his voice thick with urgency, desperately longing to hear her soft, breathy confessions.

There was a part of him that recognized how selfish he sounded, pushing her like this, but he was consumed by the ache for her words, a craving that felt insatiable. He needed this, needed to know she felt the same way he did.

“F—fuck, I missed you, Rafe. Miss you—missed you so much—” she mumbled in a breathless rush, clearly lost in the haze of lust and his intoxicating touch. 

Each repetition of her confession had a visceral effect on him, nearly bringing him to tears. He leaned down, resting his forehead against her shoulder, biting the inside of his lip to suppress the tumult of emotions that surged through him. Her words finally broke through his defenses, igniting a desperate resolve within him.

Straightening up again, he pulled her close, hands settling on her thighs, his lips pressing against her neck with a ravenous need. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, the rawness of his desire laying bare the jagged edge of his longing.

Her body tensed at his words, her mouth falling open in surprise as her eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. “Fuck—no—no, I can’t—” she whined softly, a mixture of refusal and longing woven into her voice.

But he tightened his grip on her thighs, holding her impossibly closer, anchoring her to him. “Yes, you can,” he murmured, the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin as he brushed his lips against her neck. He could feel her heat radiating against him, and the flood of exhilaration urged him on, hands inching upward along the outside of her thighs, pushing her skirt higher.

“No, Rafe—” she protested weakly, grasping at his hands, squirming in his grasp. But he moved inexorably forward, his fingers urging her skirt until it was bunched around her hips, leaving her exposed.

His lips moved to her ear, moving closer to that fragile line between desire and desperation. “Stop me then,” he challenged softly, wrapping her in the intoxicating weight of his gaze.

“I’m engaged!” Panic surged within her, her breath hitching as she felt the cold air against her exposed lower half, the realization of vulnerability sending a shiver down her spine. 

At her reminder, Rafe's breath caught, his chest clenching as the reality of her engagement hit him. Yet, just as quickly, he brushed the thought aside, fueled by the undeniable chemistry that crackled between them. “Take off the ring then,” he countered, his voice smooth, brushing against her ear with delicate persistence.

She shuddered, the involuntary moan spilling from her lips as she squirmed in his unwavering grip, silently berating herself for wearing a thong that left little to the imagination. “Rafe—” was all she could manage, her voice a mix of desperation and reluctance.

In that moment, caught between duty and desire, their reality shifted, the world outside forgotten as they teetered on the edge of something infinitely intoxicating and profoundly reckless. The air between them was thick with temptation, where two hearts clamored for connection while the chains of logic threatened to pull them apart.

Rafe’s grip on her thighs tightened, a primal response to the sweet little moan that slipped from her lips. The sound reverberated through him, igniting a fire in his veins. He pressed harder against her, grinding forward, letting her feel the raw lust that consumed him. He knew he was being too demanding, too pushy, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he wanted was her—needed her.

“Take off the ring, baby. You still love me. You’ve missed me for four years. I know it.” His voice was a low, sultry whisper, heavy with longing as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear.

“Shit—” she gasped, eyes fluttering shut as an involuntary wave of desire washed over her, compelling her to grind back against him.

At her movement, Rafe let out a quiet groan, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge of his self-control. He moved his left hand up to her own, feeling the thin diamond band resting on her ring finger. A surge of frustration coursed through him—it was the symbol of a promise she had made, a life she had chosen. But right now, that ring felt like a barrier, one he was determined to dismantle.

Instead of removing it himself, he guided her hand upward to her mouth. “Take it off,” he repeated, his voice hoarse and deep, laced with an urgency that made her shiver.

With a hesitance that melted into a thrill, she opened her mouth, sucking her ring finger inside and wrapping her lips around the diamond ring. Slowly, he guided her, coaxing her movements as she pulled it off. His heart raced, eyes locked onto the sight of her mouth, so intimate and alluring, as she obliged his silent demand.

“Now throw it on the floor,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with unrestrained desire.

But she shook her head, the ring still nestled between her lips as she turned to face him, a mix of defiance and longing swirling in her eyes.

Rafe tilted his head, caught between frustration and fascination. His fingers found her chin, tilting it gently to force her gaze up to meet his. He could see the conflict waging within her, the way her lips parted slightly, a surrender hanging on the edge of her breath.

“Spit,” he commanded, his tone quiet yet resolute.

Yet again, she shook her head, stubbornness flaring in the depths of her gaze.

“I said spit,” he snapped, a darker edge to his voice. He released her chin, frustration boiling beneath the surface as he moved swiftly. His hand pressed forward, forcing his long fingers into her mouth, making her choke on them, reclaiming the ring from her mouth in one fluid motion before throwing it onto the floor, where it clattered loudly, a stark reminder of the reality they were trying to escape.

His gaze darkened as he watched her chest heave, her breaths growing heavier, lips wet and parted in a way that unraveled him completely.

As she panted up at him, the tension between them reached a boiling point, filled with unsaid words and unfulfilled desires. In that charged silence, where time seemed to stand still, they both recognized the precipice upon which they balanced—a moment fraught with consequence, desire, and the undeniable pull of longing that neither could resist any longer. The world around them faded, leaving only their breaths, their hearts, and the fiery connection that threatened to consume them whole.

Rafe lowered his head again, his lips grazing her ear once more, sending shivers down her spine. “Turn around,” he whispered breathlessly, the warmth of his breath wrapping around her like a secret promise.

She shivered at his command, slowly turning to face him, her heart thundering in her chest as she swallowed hard. The world around them faded, the noise from the outside dimming into a distant hum. 

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

A moment later, she found herself placing her cheek against the messy desk, gripping its edge tightly as their bodies moved in a rough, desperate rhythm, a primal dance fueled by emotion. The room was a chaotic disarray—papers strewn across the floor, supplies discarded carelessly, the small couch shoved against the wall, and a lamp lying broken, its light extinguished. It was an absolute mess, but Rafe couldn’t bring himself to care about any of it. In that moment, all he could think about was her—the reality of her body against his, and the stark, electric connection that pulsed between them.

With his hands firmly anchored on her hips, he pulled her back against him, feeling her warmth seep into him as his chest rose and fell in labored breaths.

“Rafe—Rafe—shit—” she moaned, the sound a beautiful symphony of need and longing as she instinctively reached behind to clutch at his arm, her legs shaking as she struggled to maintain her composure. 

He was close—too close. 

“Come here,” he gritted out, pulling her against his chest. 

Without hesitation, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, biting down roughly as he panted against her skin, a shudder running through him as he surrendered to the moment. The rush of sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming. For a second, he felt breathless, high on their shared connection, unable to calm the wild pounding of his heart.

With a loud groan, he shuddered against her, spilling in her, her arousal mixed with his dripping down his cock.

Yet a voice in his mind warned him. If he let go of her now, if he released the tight grip he had around her, she would slip away—just like she had before. So, he held on, anchoring her between himself and the desk, his hands roaming over her body, desperate to keep her close.

As she tapped on his thigh, a subtle signal for him to get off, his teeth clenched in frustration. But he ignored her silent plea, determined not to give in. 

Burying his face deeper into her neck, he inhaled her scent, a heady mix of familiarity and desire. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and chest, holding her against him as though she were his lifeline.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he murmured, the words laced with confusion and longing, a plea for understanding.

She swallowed hard, struggling to catch her breath against the tumult of emotions coursing through her. “I’m not doing anything—”

“You are.” His voice held an edge, a growl that reflected both frustration and need. He was angry—not just at her, but at the situation that kept pulling them apart despite the undeniable chemistry that tied them together.

“You can’t possibly tell me that you feel nothing for me,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers for the truth he desperately wanted to believe.

“Rafe—” 

With a soft sigh, she turned to face him, their eyes locking in a moment thick with unspoken words. The truths they had been avoiding hung heavy between them. She could feel the intensity, the unyielding heat of their connection, and for the first time, there was no chaos outside them—only the fragile clarity of what they both felt.

He kept his hands firmly wrapped around her, refusing to let go, the terror of loss gripping him like a vice. The thought of releasing her sent waves of panic crashing through him, a primal fear that the moment his fingers slipped away, she would turn and walk out of his life once more. Rafe's eyes bore into hers, fierce and desperate, revealing just how deeply the prospect of losing her again threatened to shatter him. 

He was terrified to let go, afraid that the moment he released her, she would vanish again, slipping away into the abyss that had separated them for four long years. His heart raced, each beat echoing the unspoken dread gnawing at him. 

Their gazes locked, his eyes reflecting a storm of fierce desperation. He had endured a hollow existence since she left, and the thought of losing her again felt like a death sentence.  “I do still care about you.” Her fingers gently caressed his cheek, a touch filled with warmth but tinged with regret. 

But then, as if a fragile bubble had burst, the weight of what they'd just shared crashed down upon them. “But what we just did—it was wrong. And I—I need to tell Ilgaz about it.” With that admission, she bit down on her lip, guilt washing over her features like a dark tide.

He leaned into her touch, desperate for comfort but feeling a tightness grow in his chest. “You seriously plan on telling your fiancé that you just cheated on him?” he spat, disbelief crashing upon his heart like a wave. The vulnerability and honesty she embodied felt like a double-edged sword in this moment.

“Of course I am. I can’t lie to him. He deserves the truth,” she replied softly, her honesty only intensifying his despair, her voice heavy with guilt. 

He should have expected her response; she had always been forthright, unwaveringly so. But the thought of her returning to Ilgaz, recounting their stolen moment, twisted in his gut like a knife. His hands tightened around her arms, unwilling to loosen his grip, bound by emotion and fear.

“Say you still love me,” he muttered, his voice rough like gravel, the plea escaping him before he could stop it.

“Why?” she asked cautiously, confusion knitting her brow. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Because I need to know,” he implored, surrendering to raw emotion. The grip on her arms tightened as if to pull her deeper into the gravity of his need. Four years had passed since they had been apart, four years spent in a fog of longing. He could feel the tension in his grip on her, an addict grasping his last fix after years of deprivation. 

Four years spent apart, and here they stood again, caught in this charged moment, their past alive in every breath they shared. 

The silence that followed was deafening, wrapping around them like an inescapable shroud. Her heart raced as the realization hit her—she had loved him fiercely once, and perhaps that love had never truly faded. But how could she risk everything by admitting that she still craved him, still felt the magnetic pull that defied logic?

Tears shimmered in her eyes, the swirl of emotions reflected back at him. “I care about you,” she finally confessed, her own voice unsteady. “But I can’t just run away from reality again. I owe it to Ilgaz to be honest.”

He felt the finality of her words crash over him, the bitter truth sinking in. Life could not be so simple; they had grown into different people, woven paths that no longer intersected. Yet, in that charged silence, he saw something behind her eyes: a flicker of the past, a memory of the love that had once flourished between them.

“But what if you can be honest with him,” he said slowly, searching for the right words, “and still choose what you truly want?” 

She hesitated, caught between loyalty and the undeniable pull of their shared connection. “What if I want both?” she whispered, the conflict rich in her voice.

“Then choose,” he said, his voice softening. “Choose what makes you happy. Maybe the truth doesn’t have to shatter everything.” 

A stillness enveloped them, each heart beating in the heavy silence. The city around them faded, leaving only the two of them standing at the precipice of a decision that could change everything. 

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer, their foreheads almost touching. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “I’ve missed us.” 

After a long moment, she nodded to herself, tears slipping down her cheeks, but now they shimmered with a sense of relief. “You’ve always been my first love. I can’t deny that,” she said, her voice trembling yet resolute. 

His eyes were dark, filled with a desperate intensity that caught her off guard. It was a frantic plea, a mixture of hope and despair that mirrored the internal chaos raging within her. “I’ve been trying to forget you,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But every moment I spend with you reminds me of what we had. It confuses me.”

He swallowed hard, the hope surging within him sparking a flicker of desire. “It confuses me too, but it’s real. This connection… It’s not something we can just wish away. You have to know that.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes as the truth of his words echoed within her. “But Ilgaz… What about him?” 

“Maybe we need to be honest with ourselves first before we decide what happens next,” he replied gently, his expression softened by understanding. The ruins of their past lingered heavily in the air between them, but so too did the potential for something new—something real and unfiltered.

She bit her lip, torn and trembling. “I don’t know if I can just walk away from him.”

“Then don’t,” he said, the steadiness in his tone offering her solace. “Take your time. But don’t let fear dictate your happiness. You deserve to know how you feel without guilt shadowing you.”

She winced, face twitching in guilt. “It's too late for that.”

Rafe nodded, pursing his lips as his eyes darted to her hair, his finger coming up to adjust a few fray pieces, “I know, baby.”

He watched as she fought an internal battle, emotions flashing across her face in rapid succession—confusion, longing, terror, and finally acceptance. In that moment, her heart and mind clashed as she confronted the truth she had buried for far too long. 

“I need to think,” she finally breathed, her voice trembling with the weight of her decision.

“Of course,” he replied, releasing his grip slowly, though a part of him wanted to hold on tightly and never let go. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

With one last glance laden with emotions too complex to unravel in the moment, she stepped away, the distance between them filled with possibilities yet to be explored. Each step away felt like an ache—a reminder of both what was lost and what could potentially be found.

But as she walked out the door, she felt something shift within her. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to embrace the uncertainty, to feel the weight of her choices without allowing guilt to hold her back. 

And he stood watching her go, a bittersweet smile on his lips, realizing that this moment—fragile yet potent—might lead to healing, to truth, and perhaps, to love again. The night stretched around him, open and endless, as he clung to the hope of what tomorrow might bring. They were two souls intertwined by fate, navigating a complex dance of honesty and desire, ready to discover if love could truly survive the wounds of the past.

The End.

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

second part

matt x reader

matt had fallen asleep, the soft hum of the tv filling the otherwise quiet room. the glow from the screen flickered across the walls, casting faint, shifting shadows. you weren’t sure where nick and chris had gone; they’d probably turned in for the night too. the house felt still, and in the silence, your thoughts grew louder. you sat on the couch, staring at your drawing, pencil in hand, though you hadn’t added a single stroke in what felt like hours. your mind kept drifting back to matt’s words, replaying them like a song stuck on repeat. 

it all felt... strange. surreal, even. was he serious? did he actually mean it? the possibility that matt could like you—truly like you—felt almost laughable. it didn’t make sense. it felt like a joke, some elaborate prank you weren’t in on. there was no way someone like matt found you attractive. you were certain of that. weren’t you? 

your gaze shifted to him. matt lay curled up on the other end of the couch, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. his hair fell messily across his face, covering his closed eyes, and he was cocooned in a white, fluffy blanket that looked warm and impossibly soft. he looked peaceful, far removed from the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside you. 

the truth was, you wanted to be in a relationship—longed for it, really. but as much as the thought excited you, it also terrified you. the idea of letting someone in, of being vulnerable, made your chest tighten. the timing felt wrong. you didn’t feel ready. and yet, the way matt’s words lingered in your mind made you wonder if you ever would be. 

the more you thought about it, the more the fear crept in. it started as a quiet unease, a small pit forming in your stomach. but the longer you sat there, the bigger it grew, swallowing your thoughts until it was all you could feel. the idea that matt could truly like you—really like you—felt overwhelming. what if it wasn’t real? what if it was? the questions spun faster and faster in your mind, tangling themselves into a knot you couldn’t untie. before long, even the comfort of his home felt suffocating, as though the walls themselves were closing in around you. 

you couldn’t stay. not like this. 

your heart raced as you stood up abruptly, grabbing your drawing and pencils with shaking hands. the room was still quiet except for the low drone of the tv, but your own thoughts were loud enough to drown it out. you were supposed to stay here for the night, but that plan was no longer an option. you needed to leave, to get out, to put some space between you and all of these feelings you weren’t ready to face. 

you tiptoed toward matt’s bedroom, careful not to make a sound. pushing the door open, you slipped inside. the room smelled faintly of him—clean and warm, like freshly laundered blankets—and the sight of it made your chest tighten further. you crossed to his desk and carefully placed your drawing on top, smoothing the edges before stepping back. for a moment, you hesitated, staring at the piece you’d worked so hard on. would he understand? would he be hurt? 

shaking the thoughts away, you reached for a piece of paper and a pen sitting nearby. the words came quickly, hurried but deliberate: 

“sorry i left, something came up x” 

you placed the note beside the drawing, the pen lingering in your hand for a second longer than necessary. then you set it down and stepped back, taking one last look at the room before quietly slipping out. as you walked toward the door, the weight in your chest eased just slightly. leaving didn’t feel good, but staying had felt impossible. 

with a quick motion, you slipped on your uggs, their soft lining instantly warming your feet. next came your favorite jacket, the one you loved more than anything, its familiar weight settling over your shoulders like a hug. it brought a small, fleeting sense of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the turmoil inside you. you walked into the kitchen, your steps quiet against the floor, and grabbed your bag from the counter. slinging it over your shoulder, you took a deep breath. you were ready to leave. or at least, you needed to be. 

you made your way toward the stairs, your heart pounding harder with every step. but just as you reached the top, you paused. something made you glance back at matt, still asleep on the couch. the sight of him stopped you in your tracks. his hair fell softly over his face, his body curled up under the fluffy white blanket. he looked so peaceful, so unguarded. 

a pang of guilt hit you, sharp and sudden. you felt bad for him, deeply and profoundly. he didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve you. 

he shouldn’t be in love with you. 

your throat tightened as the thought repeated in your mind, over and over like a mantra. matt deserved someone who could love him back the way he loved, fully and without hesitation. someone who wasn’t weighed down by overthinking, someone who didn’t sink into bad moods that came without warning. someone who didn’t fight a constant battle with anxiety that left them doubting themselves—and everyone else—at every turn. 

you knew matt didn’t care about any of that. you knew how much he cared for you, how deeply he loved you. he’d made it clear that none of your struggles scared him. but that didn’t matter, not to you. what mattered was that you couldn’t trust yourself not to hurt him. your flaws felt like landmines, and you couldn’t bear the thought of matt stepping on one and getting caught in the fallout. 

you stared at him a moment longer, your chest heavy, before turning back to the stairs. this was for the best, you told yourself. it had to be. 

your feet moved on autopilot as you descended, your bag thumping lightly against your side. the front door came into view, and without hesitating, you opened it. the cool night air rushed in, biting at your cheeks and pulling at your hair. you stepped out into the darkness, the door clicking softly shut behind you. 

and just like that, you were gone. 

𝜗𝜚

the morning after you left, matt woke up in his bed with a faint sense that something was off. the house was too quiet, the usual hum of morning activity nowhere to be found. for a moment, he chalked it up to grogginess, yawning as he shuffled to the kitchen. then he noticed your absence—no signs of you anywhere. 

he figured you must have left early, maybe to run an errand or take care of something you forgot to mention. when he spotted your drawing and the note on his desk, he shrugged it off. it wasn’t like you to leave abruptly, but life happened sometimes. “something came up,” your note had said, and that was good enough for him. at least, for now. 

the first day passed, and matt didn’t think much about it. he assumed you’d check in, send a quick text to let him know you got home safely. but as the hours stretched on, the absence of a message started to feel strange. 

by the second day, his confidence that everything was fine began to waver. 

by the third day, the knot in his stomach had grown tighter. he tried to ignore it, telling himself you were probably busy or just needed space. but the silence was deafening, and the longer it stretched on, the harder it became to stay calm. 

he texted you a few times: 

matt: "hey, hope everything’s okay" 

matt: "just checking in, let me know when you can" 

matt: "you good? starting to get worried now" 

each message went unanswered, and with every passing hour, his anxiety grew. he scrolled through your social media, looking for any signs of activity, but there was nothing. no posts, no updates. just silence. 

by the fourth day, matt couldn’t take it anymore. his mind raced with possibilities. had he done something wrong? were you hurt? did you decide you didn’t want to see him anymore and couldn’t bring yourself to say it? he felt sick at the thought. 

he paced around his house, your note still sitting on his desk where he’d left it. picking it up, he reread it for the hundredth time, trying to decipher some hidden meaning in your words. 

finally, he grabbed his keys and jacket. he wasn’t going to wait any longer. he needed answers. 

he needed to see you. 

a/n... hiiiiii here's the second part, not sure if i like this tho... tell me what u guys are thinking abt it

ᯓ TAGS: @strnilolover

© PPLEASEXANNY

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[keeryhours]

please please please - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! Hopper! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie is no stranger to the Hawkins legal system. It’s no surprise to anyone when he’s dragged in in cuffs again, but it is unexpected when someone catches his eye - the police chief’s daughter.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, a little bit of sub!eddie, delinquent!eddie, talk of drugs, weed use

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N:

I’ve been stuck in the worst writing slump! So glad to finally finish something I feel good about and share with you guys :)

—

You spent most days after school sitting around the Hawkins police station, working on your homework until your dad was ready to take you both home. You weren’t the biggest fan of sitting in the empty house alone, and waiting for him here beat having to walk home since you still didn’t have a car.

You sat at an empty desk, chin in your hand as you tapped the pencil against your paper. The gentle chatter of the station filled your ears. You were bored, tired of fighting with your math homework, wishing you could be off with your friends instead of here.

The sound of the door opening abruptly caught your attention, your eyes moving to the source of the noise. Officer Callahan came in, leading a man in cuffs. A man - as if you ever could have mistaken Eddie Munson. The ‘Freak’ of Hawkins High. With his tall, lanky build, his mess of curly hair, and his metalhead attire, he was hard to miss.

Your dad stepped out of his office, a hand running over his mustache with a sigh. “What are you doing in my station again, Munson? Didn’t you and I have a good talk?”

“Just missed ya so much, Hop,” Eddie quipped back with a grin, looking much too cheerful for his current predicament.

“Caught him trespassing at the old factory,” Officer Callahan supplied, holding onto Eddie by the back of his jacket.

“Drugs?” Jim Hopper asked.

“Just half a joint,” Callahan answered.

Hopper let out another deep sigh. “I’m trying to work with you here, Eddie. This is your fifth arrest this school year alone. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you ending up behind bars for years of your life.”

Eddie shook his head with a grin, curls bouncing wildly. “I hear ya, Hop. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Evidently I do,” Hopper muttered. “How about this? You can spend the night here with us tonight, and you can think about whether that’s how you want to spend your life.” He claps Eddie on the shoulder hard before he’s turning to walk back into his office.

Officer Callahan leads Eddie through the station, Eddie smiling at the other officers as they pass like they’re on a first name basis, which they probably are. When his eyes meet yours, his grin grows even wider. He has a beautiful smile, which is something you’re just now noticing for the first time. He’s really hot in general, you realize. Only when your heart starts beating out of your chest at his attention. He shoots you a flirty wink as he passes, and then Callahan is roughly taking him back to the cells.

You think about Eddie for the rest of the day. Even when your dad comes out, pulling on his coat and says it’s time to head home. Even when you’re riding home in the passenger seat of the police vehicle, Hopper trying to make conversation about your day. When you sit down and eat dinner together. And especially as you’re laying in bed in the silence of the night.

You’re leaving school 2 days later, walking through the parking lot with your backpack slung over your shoulder when you’re stopped by a voice.

“Hey, Hopper!”

You turned at the sound, eyebrows raising at the sight of Eddie Munson walking towards you. “Weird to say that name and not be talking about your dad,” Eddie laughed when he reached you, a hand running through his curls.

You looked at him, confused why he was talking to you in the first place. “Uh, can I help you?”

Eddie gave you that big smile, bowing his head to you. “I was hoping you might do me the honors of spending the afternoon with me.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Me? Why?”

“Why not?” Eddie laughed, and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful of a smile he had again. “You seem cool. I want to get to know you better.”

That was how you found yourself in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, watching his long fingers rolling up a joint. Some kind of metal blasted from the car’s speakers, some band you definitely weren’t familiar with. Your stomach was in knots as you watched him deftly roll the paper.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked as Eddie finished up, realizing you’d run out of time to stall.

“‘Course it’s okay,” Eddie laughed, running his tongue along the paper. You watched intently as his long tongue poked out to trail along the seam of the joint. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“My dad…”

Eddie waved you off before you even finished your sentence. “Hop’s never gonna know. Calm down.” He produced a lighter from his pocket and handed you both with a flourish. “M’lady.”

You took them from him cautiously, as if they might explode in your hand. You looked over the foreign object. You were pretty sure you knew which side to light.

Your inspection was interrupted by Eddie’s chuckling. “You really haven’t done this before, huh?”

Your eyes met his and you blushed, casting your gaze downwards. “No. I’ve never smoked anything.”

“Ooh, a good girl,” Eddie teased, reaching forward to pluck the joint from your fingers. “I’ll get it started for you, baby.”

Your cheeks heated even more at the pet name, but you watched as Eddie placed the joint between his lips (you were correct about which side gets lit, at least) and flicked the lighter, bringing it to his face. The flame caught evenly, burning perfectly as Eddie breathed in a long drag. Once he’d taken two big puffs, he handed it back to you.

You took it from him with shaking hands. You brought it to your lips and breathed in just like you’d watched Eddie do - only to feel like your throat was on fire and start coughing your lungs out.

Eddie laughed hard, reaching to grab you a bottle of water. “It’s okay. Just try again. You don’t have to take a huge hit.”

Once your coughing fit had ended and you’d wiped the tears off your face, gratefully accepting the water bottle and taking a big sip, you worked up the courage to try again. You breathed in slower this time, following the instructions Eddie was giving you. This time you were able to get the smoke into your lungs and hold it there, letting it out in a shaking breath before you started coughing again.

“Atta girl!” Eddie praised, taking the joint back from you and bringing it back to his own mouth. “You’re a natural. Knew you’d like it.”

It didn’t take long before you began to feel it. The music sounded so good you just had to sway along, and everything Eddie said was so funny. Time felt like it moved in slow motion and life looked like you were watching a movie.

“Enjoying yourself?” Eddie asked, making himself nice and comfortable in the back of the van. His long legs were spread out before him, crossed at the ankles while his hands rested intertwined on his stomach.

You nodded, a dopey smile on your face. “Yeah, I’m…having a great time,” you said before falling into a fit of giggles.

Eddie laughed along with you. “Yeah, looks like it.” He looked you over, like he was admiring every part of your body. “I knew I could get you to loosen up.”

His music sounded heavenly in your ears now. You were so warm and cozy, you could have stayed here all night. You spent most of the night there with Eddie, just talking and laughing about any and everything. You realized it had been a long time since you’d laughed so hard and felt so free.

Eddie drove you home, thankfully early enough that you beat your dad there. Your head still felt fuzzy but you weren’t as blasted as you had been.

“Thanks,” you said shyly as you climbed out of the van. “For the ride home and the, uh…weed.”

Eddie gave you that huge grin again. “Any time, sweetheart.”

You spent yet another night with your thoughts full of Eddie. He was actually a cool person. But you knew your dad would never approve of that friendship, or what you had been up to tonight.

Hopper came home with pizzas in hand. You were relieved, since you’d had the munchies for hours and the snacks you and Eddie had devoured in the back of the van had long since worn off. He looked at you suspiciously when you laughed far too hard at his cheesy dad jokes, but didn’t question you.

You and Eddie were fast friends after that. Spending just about every day after school together, getting high, exploring abandoned buildings you weren’t supposed to be at, sitting in on Corroded Coffin band practice and Hellfire Club meetings. You had become near inseparable, something that was strange to his friends when he first brought you around, but now you were like a package deal. Where Eddie went, you were sure to follow, and vice versa.

Eddie continued having his run-ins with the Hawkins police, including your father. It seemed he was just incapable of staying out of trouble. He got bored, and once that boredom hit, he was sure to be off doing something stupid to entertain himself, no matter how you put your foot down or begged him not to.

You could hardly even be surprised when you were home one night and Hopper walked in, looking pissed as hell and grumbling under his breath as he slid off his jacket.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, brows furrowed. You hadn’t seen him come home this worked up very often.

Hopper turned towards you, eyes softening as he took in his daughter’s face, not wanting to take his frustration out on you. He sighed again. “It’s that Munson kid. Caught him doing a deal and he ran. Had to put a warrant out for him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but your mouth nearly dropped. You reined it in, however, since your dad isn’t even supposed to know you know Eddie at all. “Wow,” is all you can think to offer.

Hopper began heading towards his bedroom to shower and change before dinner. “I have tried and tried to help that boy,” he muttered, seemingly only to himself. “But he just doesn’t want the damn help.”

Eddie was on your mind as usual that night, but this time it was worry. You tossed and turned in bed once you laid down. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

Ping. Ping.

The sound of something hitting your window jolted your attention in that direction. Sure enough, the sound came again, accompanied by a pebble smacking against the glass.

You climbed out of bed in your pajamas, feeling nervous as you approached the window. You pushed it open, leaning your head outside.

“Eddie?”

Sure enough, the metalhead stood beneath your window, looking more disheveled than usual. He gave you a big smile. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair…”

You rolled your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice as low as possible. Because really, how dumb is he to show up to the police chief’s house when there’s a warrant out for his arrest?

“Needed to see you,” Eddie said simply with a shrug of his shoulders. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, eyebrows raised high.

“Does it matter?” Eddie smiled.

You debated on it. You knew this was a terrible idea. But hell, it was more fun than being in your room alone. You held up a finger telling him to give you a minute before you slipped back into the room and threw on a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie over the t-shirt you were sleeping in. Socks and sneakers on your feet and then you were climbing out your window for the first time ever, falling to the ground safely with Eddie’s assistance. His hands lingered on your hips once you were on the ground, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

Eddie had parked his van around the block. The two of you walked together in mostly silence, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves. Once you were safely in the van it felt like you could breathe again. Eddie cranked his music up, and took off.

“Are we fugitives now?” you teased, nighttime breeze blowing through the open window and whipping your hair around your face.

“Just me,” Eddie laughed. You laughed too, even though nothing about the situation was funny, really.

Eddie pulled the van to a stop on a back road, a spot hidden from prying eyes. “I thought we could sit here and just hang out,” Eddie explained as he saw you taking in your surroundings. “Maybe smoke a little, listen to music, whatever you want.”

That’s how you ended up in the back of the van again, a common hangout for the two of you. A joint shared between you and good music playing through the car’s speakers, you were both feeling amazing. You sat next to him, leaned against his shoulder as you enjoyed each other’s company.

“I always thought you were so pretty, you know.”

The words caught you so off guard you suspected you’d imagined them. But you turn to Eddie and he’s looking right at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. Like he’s nervous.

“Y-you did?” is all you’re able to respond.

Eddie smiled softly. “Yeah, of course.” His hand comes up to cup your cheek gently. “I still do. You are pretty. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. You knew you had to be red as a tomato right now, and you hoped the dim lighting in the van was enough to hide it from Eddie’s searching eyes. You knew you needed to say something, but you couldn’t make the words come out of your mouth.

Eddie brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. He was looking at you so intensely now, it made your heart beat out of your chest. He calls your name, and it sounds more beautiful on his tongue than you’ve ever heard it.

“I like you,” he said, looking right into your eyes. “I really like you. You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. And you’re hot, funny, smart. The whole package.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Eddie’s mouth, and you were pretty sure the weed was making your brain work in slow motion. But he wasn’t laughing at his own joke, or saying he didn’t mean it. He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to say something, anything, back.

“I…” you began, quickly realizing your throat was extremely dry. Eddie handed you a water bottle with a chuckle, and you took it gratefully. Once the water had soothed your throat (and given you a second to stall), you had enough courage to turn back to him. “I…I like you, too.”

Eddie’s face lit up at your words. “Yeah? You do?”

He was so cute, like an excited puppy. It was so easy to forget that this guy saw the police station as a second home and had a warrant out for his arrest that very moment. You briefly wondered if being here with him put yourself in any legal trouble, but you also didn’t really care. “Yeah. I really do.”

Eddie’s hand remained on your cheek, thumb rubbing softly over your skin. He brought his other hand to your other cheek, and then he was pulling you in. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you let him pull you until his lips were on yours.

Kissing Eddie felt more natural than you ever could have thought. It felt like you had always been doing this, his lips so familiar to you it was like you knew exactly what to do to drive him wild. Or maybe that was just the effect you had on him.

Eddie’s hands began to wander as you kissed him back deeply, leaving your face to trail up your thigh and to your hips, rubbing your sides over your hoodie.

He reached for the hem of your hoodie and quickly pulled it over your head. You were left in the thin pajama shirt, no bra underneath. You prayed he couldn’t see your nipples through your shirt, but with the way he was staring, you suspected he could.

“So hot,” Eddie moaned, his large hands reaching out to grasp your breasts over your shirt. Chills spread through your body as his fingers trailed over your hard nipples, and he moaned again. He groped at your tits for a while until he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled your shirt over your head, hands going straight back to your now-bare breasts. He leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, his fingers still working the other.

The sensation caught you off guard and you gasped, a hand involuntarily shooting up to grab ahold of Eddie’s curls and accidentally pulling, which made him groan against your skin. Moans spilled from your mouth as he ran his tongue over your nipple, circling around it before puckering his lips around it and sucking. You arched your back into his mouth, wanting more, more of this feeling Eddie was providing that was making you feel like you had died and gone to heaven.

Eddie switched sides, wrapping his hot mouth against your other nipple as he attended to the other with his fingers, rubbing and pinching. The wetness left on your now exposed nipple made the cool air even more noticable against the sensitive bud. Your head leaned back against the wall of the van as Eddie worshiped your tits, his jeans growing uncomfortably tight. He palmed himself, desperate for some relief on his aching cock.

He pulled off your nipple with a pop and moved back to your lips, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and licking everywhere he could reach, kissing you hungrily, filthily. You were both moaning into each other’s mouths, tongues tangled together, trading heavy breaths between you. You could feel your clit throbbing, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so turned on.

“I’m so hard for you,” Eddie moaned against you, biting down on your bottom lip harshly. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan, making Eddie chuckle darkly.

“Can I…feel?” you asked, feeling shy.

Eddie groaned at the question, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “God, baby, you don’t even have to ask.”

Nervous, you reached over towards the bulge in his jeans. It looked intimidating enough from here. The second your palm pressed against it Eddie let out a desperate sounding groan, pushing his hips up against your hand even harder. You could feel that he was absolutely rock hard. It surprised you how hard he was, and you briefly thought he had to be uncomfortable trapped in there. He had too many clothes on, anyway.

You tugged on his shirt, wanting it out of the way. Eddie smirked at you, picking up the hint immediately as he shrugged his leather jacket off his shoulders before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You took in his bare chest in front of you, the pale skin now exposed to you. You rubbed your fingers over his belly and chest, feeling every part of him you could reach. Eddie just let you, head leaning back against the wall as he enjoyed your touch.

“Feels good, baby,” he breathed, eyes closed. He looked so pretty like this, you thought.

You trailed your hands lower, down to the bit of hair leading beneath his jeans. Eddie’s eyes shot open to look at you when your fingertips brushed there. Your hand moved lower, rubbing over his hard on over his jeans again, earning another delicious groan from his lips.

“You seem uncomfortable in here…” you said teasingly as you rubbed him.

He looked up at you, the expression in his eyes nearly pained. “Yeah…I am,” he said, voice quiet and gruff.

“I could help you with that…” you said, giving him a squeeze that dragged an even more delicious sound from him. “If you want me to.”

“Yes, god yes, please,” Eddie begged, sounding as desperate as he felt. “Please touch me, baby.”

You hadn’t realized you would like the sound of him begging, but you absolutely do. Your hands moved to his belt, working open his buckle. Eddie watched you work, big brown eyes focused on your lithe hands undoing his belt before moving to the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Wait-“ Eddie said, causing you to halt your movements immediately and look up at him, concerned. He smiled at you sheepishly. “Can you take yours off first? Wanna enjoy the view.”

You rolled your eyes at the dopey grin on his face, but obliged. You gave him a little show as you wiggled your hips, pushing the denim down your body until you kicked it away. Eddie’s eyes never left you once.

Left in only your panties now, you moved back to Eddie, fingers hooking onto the waistband of his jeans. He lifted his hips off the ground as you pulled them down for him. He was left in nothing but his boxers, your eyes immediately drawn to the very, very large tent in them.

“You look like you need some attention,” you teased.

It took everything in Eddie to resist wrapping his own hand around his cock, pulsing and aching and neglected, but he wanted you to be the one to touch him. “Yeah, uh…could definitely use some,” Eddie said, his cheeks flushing pink. Cute.

You watched him as you leaned forward, licking against the tip of his cock over his boxers.

Eddie shuddered, a shaky groan leaving his lips. “Don’t tease me sweetheart, please,” he begged. You could see his dick twitch beneath the material.

As much fun as you were having, you decided to take mercy on him. Eddie lifted his hips again for you to pull his boxers down, his girth slapping against his abdomen. Your eyes widened at it - long, hard, and needy. Tip red and leaking, cock twitching as he looked at you looking at him.

You wrapped a hand around his base, drawing a hiss from Eddie. You started stroking him slowly, thumb running over his tip and smearing his precum along his length. Eddie groaned, resisting the urge to buck his hips up for more. “God, baby,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes closed.

“Feel good?” you asked him, eyes darting between your hand moving along his beautiful cock, and his beautiful face, contorted in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned, eyes opening to look into your face. “Faster, sweetheart, please.”

You sped up your movements, jerking him faster. You reached your free hand down to grasp his balls, making Eddie whimper. “Fuck, please, your mouth, babe…”

You didn’t think you could deny anything he asked of you right now. You got yourself comfortable on your knees in front of him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his tip. Swirling your tongue around the head, flicking over the slit and tasting him. Eddie’s hand shot up to grab your hair, his thighs trembling beneath your hands. You sunk your head down his length, determined to take as much of him as possible. You gagged about halfway down, already feeling like you were taking so much.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his voice strained and fist shaking against the back of your head. “You can take all of me. Open that pretty mouth nice and wide for me.”

You moaned around him at his dirty words, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his hips bucked up into your mouth. “Shit! Sorry!” Eddie exclaimed as you came off him quickly, gagging and coughing.

“It’s okay,” you said, wiping the tears from your face once you were breathing normally again. You wrapped your lips around him again and sunk down, opening your jaw as wide as you could. Tears started falling again once you had taken almost all of him, and you nearly gave up, if not for the sinful noises Eddie was making as you took him deeper and deeper. When you finally felt your nose pressed against the brown curls at his base, you felt accomplished. You hummed around him, pleased with your work.

Eddie, however, was hanging on by a thread.

“Shit, shit!” he hissed, fist clenched in your hair and whole body shaking at the feeling of his entire cock buried down your throat. He knew you probably couldn’t breathe, so he only held you there for a few glorious seconds before he let go, resting his hand on your head instead of forcing it.

You began to bob your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could every time. Eddie moaned wantonly above you, fingers brushing through your hair affectionately as you gave him the best head of his life. “God, baby, that’s…fucking incredible, shit…”

You pop off of his cock and move down to lick at his balls, sucking them into your mouth which makes Eddie’s moans go higher. You take his length back in your mouth and suck him messily, saliva dripping down onto his thighs. Neither of you cared. It caught you by surprise when Eddie pulled on your hair, pulling you off of him entirely. You looked at him confused.

“I was about to bust down your throat, babe,” Eddie laughed, completely breathless. “And I wanna fuck that cute little pussy first.”

Eddie pushed you against the floor of the van as he crawled over you, long curls reaching down to tickle your face. You giggled, which Eddie loved, and he dipped his head, shaking it to tickle you with his hair even more.

He dipped his head lower to press kisses to your neck. He started slow, placing kisses across the skin, before he started nipping at your pulse point, biting and sucking the sensitive spot. The feeling drove you crazy, and you arched into him, turning your head to give him full access. Eddie absolutely devoured your skin, moaning as he left dark love bites to remember him by.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of your panties, fingers tracing through your glistening folds. “So wet for me…” Eddie mumbled against your ear, sending chills through your body. He held his hand up to show your wetness covering his long fingers, before sticking them in his mouth and sucking them clean with a groan. “And so sweet.”

Eddie was on his knees between your legs before you even realized what was happening, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties as he slowly began to peel them off your body and down your smooth legs.

He placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs apart, eyes drinking in your pussy spread out before him, all for him. “God…” he muttered to himself, and his cock kicked up with anticipation.

“Want you, Eddie,” you begged him, as he was taking far too long just to stare. You couldn’t really blame him, though, as your eyes lingered on his body a little too long, too.

Eddie smirked at you. “Yeah? Want my cock, sweetheart?” he teased, leaning forward to trail his lips along your jaw.

“Please,” you begged him, pushing your hips up against him, his cock sliding against your slick folds. Eddie groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he rocked his hips against you more.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asked, lifting your legs around his waist and rubbing his cockhead against your throbbing clit, lining himself up at your entrance. “‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

“Please, please,” you begged again, writhing beneath him, so desperate to feel Eddie inside you. You felt your pussy clenching around nothing, your mind running with thoughts of what it will feel like to have all of him.

Eddie needed no further encouragement. He began to push in, groaning as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was intense but also incredible. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock. You grabbed onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he stretched you more and more with every thick inch. Your brow was furrowed, eyes closed tight as he finally bottomed out, keeping himself still despite his every instinct to absolutely ruin you.

“You okay, baby?” Eddie asked, eyes intently on your face. You opened your eyes, letting out a shaky exhale. The pain was starting to fade as you got used to his girth.

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “You can move.”

He pulled his hips back, slowly drawing out of you. Despite the pain you had felt, being empty was worse. You wanted nothing more than for him to fill you again. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long.

Eddie set a steady pace, thrusting into you slowly yet powerfully. You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust, each push inside of you pressing right up against something that felt absolutely incredible. Your body trembled beneath him as Eddie leaned over you, rolling his hips into yours again and again.

“Shit, you’re so tight, baby,” Eddie muttered against your cheek as he pressed deep inside you, causing you to cry out at the intense pressure against your bundle of nerves. “Taking me so well. You’re so good for me.”

You moaned at his praise, wanting to be a good girl for him. “Faster, Eddie, please,” you whined.

With the permission he’d been waiting for, Eddie sped up his hips, fucking into you harder and faster. The van was rocking, windows fogged up, the obscene sound of your skin slapping together and loud, uninhibited moans filling the space and tuning out the music.

Eddie buried his face in your neck, loud whines coming from his pretty lips. You never imagined he could make the noises he was currently making, and it made your clit throb even harder, your pussy clenching tightly around his length.

“So good baby, perfect little cunt,” Eddie rasped out, sounding like he was utterly lost in the feeling of you. He began to babble, mind lost to the pleasure. “That’s my good girl, taking my fat cock like that. Letting me spread her wide and take what’s mine. Filthy little slut, all for me, fuck, so fucking tight and wet, pussy’s perfect.”

All you could do was hold onto his strong shoulders, desperate for some sort of lifeline as he fucked you stupid. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as he began to move even faster, hips snapping into you brutally now as Eddie sets a relentless pace. Desperate moans spilled from your lips uncontrollably. Eddie’s free hand gripped onto your thigh tightly as he rutted into you, his other arm holding all his weight above you.

“So…so good, Eddie, feels so good, you’re so deep, s’big, can’t take it…” you find yourself rambling without a single coherent thought in your brain.

“You can take it, sweetheart, you are taking it, taking me so good,” Eddie encouraged. He bit down on your shoulder, and you cried out, squeezing around him. You felt something building deep inside you, growing rapidly with every move of Eddie’s hips.

“Eddie…’m close…” you whined, and he moaned against your neck.

“Pretty girl, my girl. I want you to come all over my cock,” Eddie begged, hips pistoning into you at a rapid pace. He let go of your thigh and moved his free hand between your bodies instead, pressing down on your swollen clit and rubbing circles against it. “Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

The moans leaving your lips were so whiny, desperate sounding and loud, you hardly even recognized them as coming from you. You didn’t even know you were making noises at all. Eddie shoved you right off the edge, and your release hit hard. You tightened your legs around his waist as you arched beneath him, hips bucking up to meet his movements as you moaned his name over and over again. Eddie pressed his lips onto yours hard, swallowing your moans as he licked into your mouth again, his own moans growing in intensity now.

“Fuck…shit, sweetheart, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m almost there, keep squeezing me just like that, Christ,” Eddie babbled as his thrusts turned quicker, frantic and sloppy with no rhythm as he desperately chased his release. He pumped into you roughly a couple more times before he stilled with a cry, painting your walls with his seed deep inside. He pumped his hips slowly through the last of his orgasm, making sure you got every last drop.

Your bodies were wrapped around one another as you came down from your highs, both trembling and trying to catch your breath. Once Eddie had composed himself enough he began placing kisses all over your neck, up to your cheek until he eventually reached your lips, where he placed a sweet, lingering kiss.

Eddie rolled off of you, not bothering to go farther than the floor of the van next to you. He reached for his cigarettes and pulled one out, placing it between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filled the van, and you scrunched up your nose at the smell.

“That was fucking incredible,” Eddie laughed, breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Yeah. It was.”

Eddie draws circles onto the skin of your belly with his free hand as he drags on his cigarette. “Maybe…you should be my girl.”

Your gaze shot to his face, your eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled, brushing some of your sweaty hair out of your face. “You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. I love spending time with you.” A smirk grew across his face. “Perfect pussy, too.”

You smacked him on the arm, making Eddie laugh. “You’re such a perv.”

“I just can’t help myself around you.” Eddie looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen in his life. A revelation. A goddess.

You sighed, noticing the time on the van’s radio. “Shit. I probably need to get back home before dad realizes I’m gone.”

Eddie sighed heavily, too, as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Yeah. I’ll drive you back.” He didn’t want to see the night end, but he knew you were right. He began to pull his clothes back on as you did the same.

The whole ride home, you thought about Eddie. Not just the incredible night you’d shared, or that he’s your boyfriend now, but thoughts of the warrant creep back into your mind, interrupting the happier thoughts. “What’s going to happen?”

You didn’t have to explain what you were referring to. “I’ll, uh, have to do some time,” he said, like the only thing he was sorry about was that it was hurting you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You nodded, feeling like tears were going to spill from your eyes at any moment. You had just found this amazing, beautiful thing that made you so happy, and now it was going to be taken away. Locked away.

Eddie reached over and held your hand in his. He gave it a comforting squeeze. “It won’t be long though, promise. You’ll wait for me on the outside, yeah?” he asked, teasing grin on his face.

You mustered up a smile in return. “‘Course I will. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you.”

Eddie smiled at that, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of your knuckles. “I don’t deserve you.”

He stopped the van a safe distance from your house again. After a goodbye kiss that turned into an accidental makeout session, Eddie walked you back to your window.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease as you prepare to sneak back into your bedroom.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist. “Always.” He kissed you again, and just like every time he’s kissed you, you melt right into it. It could have turned into another makeout session if it wasn’t for your dad’s bedroom light turning on, snapping you back to reality.

“Be safe, Eddie,” you told him, kissing him one last time.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he said. He lifted you up to help you reach the window easier and you climbed back inside, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

You turned back to the window when you stood. Eddie gave you a wink, smirk on his face, before he turned and disappeared back into the darkness.

That night as you laid in bed you could still feel him all over you. Tingles all over your body everywhere he touched. You would never be the same, you felt.

Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

[lurochar]

Love Potioned

Alastor has been affected by a love potion. Or has he?

Warnings: Nothing? I don't think

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

"Are you okay? We found the–”

“We are fine, Charlotte,” Alastor hisses and Charlie takes a step back in shock at the pure venomous tone directed towards her. “Now, if you do not mind…”

‘Fuck off’ was crystal clear and not even need to be said.

Charlie weakly raised her hand, turning her attention to what – or rather who – was currently being tightly held on Alastor’s lap against his front.

A very uncomfortable and dazed you.

Charlie was about to say something, opening her mouth, but you seemed to notice her and you shook your head as best you could with Alastor currently nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

‘Just go for now.’ You mouthed to Charlie and she winced. ‘With Alastor how he is right now, he might hurt even you.’

“But…” Charlie sighed, finally turning away when you kept frantically gesturing to her to do so. She glanced back, still in disbelief that Alastor had been affected so badly he was openly doing this in the lobby for anyone to see. She brought her phone out, deeming it safer to just text it to you.

I think I found the antidote

~♡♡~

“Alastor.”

You shivered as his tongue found your throat, licking the sensitive skin with long enthusiastic strokes while his clawed hands slid up and down your waist, as if they couldn't settle their position.

“Alastor.”

His ears twitched and it seems you got his attention this time around. He pulled back very reluctantly to see what you wanted, tightening his grip on you so you couldn’t move away. “Yes, Darling? I will be of any service to you.”

You stared wide-eyed at his lovedrunk expression, completely blown away by the heart-shaped pupils. 

How Alastor got dosed by a love potion, no one knew and he wasn't telling either.

Why you were the one Alastor zoomed in on for his affections was another mystery for the ages and, once more, he wasn't saying anything.

It was utterly bizarre to have the Radio Demon, who laughed at the very notion of ‘love’, to be abruptly all touchy-feely, constantly whispering sweet nothings in your ears, and growling at anyone who he deemed too close to your personal space.

“You didn't need to snap at Charlie like that.” You sigh, causing Alastor’s smile to twitch on one side

(HEHADTOENDHISTASTEOFYOURDELECTABLESKINTOTALKABOUTCHARLIE?!?!?!)

“She's just trying to help. I'm sure somewhere in your brain, you want this to be over.” You blink when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, not seeing Alastor’s eyes darken at your words when you reach for your phone.

(Want this to end?!?!)

You gasp in surprise when a tentacle snatches the phone from your hands before you have the chance to read the text from Charlie. “What are you doing, Alastor?! You better not break that! It isn't VoxTek!”

Alastor’s grin darkens into something that immediately puts you on edge once he reads whatever Charlie had sent you. “An antidote?” He says out loud and you inhale sharply before giving him an excited look.

“You can go back to normal! That's great! Isn't that what you want?” You smile encouragingly at him.

A dark laugh escapes Alastor and you instantly feel cold.

“Darling, what I don't think you realize,” you cringe when you hear that disturbing cracking noise when Alastor’s head snaps towards you too quickly, “is that I've been ‘back to normal’ for quite a while now.”

You watch in a silent horror as his heart-shaped pupils reform back to his normal-shaped ones on his own accord and you take a small step back. “Why…?”

“Hmm, Darling, don't pretend as if you didn’t enjoy my attention. I could smell it.” Alastor took a predatory step forward. “I admit, in the very beginning, I was under the effects of a love potion… that I took myself.”

“What…?”

Alastor let out a breath of frustration. “I was… unsure of how to go about it. I have no experience in this… area.”

You gaped at him. “You couldn’t just ask me out on a date like a normal guy?!”

“Would you have accepted a night out in Cannibal Town?” Alastor’s brow rose, almost huffing when your face paled at the thought.

“There are other places to eat. Even your little bayou would've been nice.” You rub your head. “Well, as long as you cook the deer.” You added with a mumble.

“Well, I shall remember such a simple thing for next time then.” Alastor straightens, but you can see that his ears drop ever so slightly. “Perhaps I did go a little too far in this endeavor.”

You stare at him blankly. “Yes. Yes, you did. And I won't go anywhere with you until you apologize to Charlie.”

Alastor closes his eyes. “I suppose I deserve that much.” His eyes pop back open. “But afterwards, Darling?” He takes in your own teasing smile with fervour.

“I guess we'll see after that.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers seeing their future S/O for the first time

Part 2

Including: Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire, Jesse Cromeans, Michael Myers & Thomas Hewitt

Warnings: Swearing, (Brief mention) Attempted Sexual Assault, Violence, Mention of Voyeurism, Mentions of death, slashers being slashers. This page is 18+ Minors do not interact.

A/N: AAAND here is part 2! Hope you guys enjoy this first piece. Believe me there are many more to come. Feel free to send requests through!

Billy Lenz:

· Billy was excited about the new tenant in the house, it had been a while since he had any fun. He had been waiting for you to move in since he heard about it. He listened to you all day, moving your stuff around, there were other people too, movers he assumed. All day he listened to your voice and couldn’t wait until he could hear it on the other end of the phone.

· He had spent the day thinking of all the dirty things he wanted to tell you, all the ways he wanted you to scream for him. Of course, he had worked himself up, he waited until not long after midnight and decided to venture into the house. Poking around silently in your things while you slept. It wasn’t until he snuck into the living room did he realise that you were laying on the lounge. He froze not sure if you were asleep or not, luckily for him you were. He crept closer, watching your face. “Pretty, so pretty,” he mumbled to himself over and over again, along with a few other profanities.

· You moved slightly at the sound of his voice, repositioning yourself when he noticed your top slip open slightly revealing some of the bra you wore underneath. Billy could barely contain his ramblings at this, his mumbling getting louder as he pawed himself through his pants. You stirred again and he raced back to the attic as quietly as he could to finish what he had started downstairs. Yes, Billy was definitely excited about his new tenant.

Brahms Heelshire:

· Brahms had to admit, he was hesitant about getting a ‘nanny’. He didn’t trust people and he didn’t want to be left alone. He knew you would be there soon and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t slightly excited. The knock at the door had him rushing through the walls to one of his hiding spots closest to the entrance. As the door opened he was surprised to say the least, you were younger than he imagined and way hotter. He would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine how he would be able to watch you during your stay, see you in bed, in the bath, some might find it shameful but Brahms was getting excited just thinking about it.

· After listening to you speak to his parents he had decided you would fit nicely into his routine. They had introduced you to the doll and he was surprised to see how at ease you seemed interacting with it. You didn’t stare at them like they were crazy, you were kind and acknowledged the doll as if it was Brahms himself. It made him feel seen, as silly as that sounds.

· Brahms had to admit, he wasn’t sure about getting a nanny at first, but seeing you speaking to the doll and imagining all the ways he was going to keep you on your toes sparked something in him. He found himself more excited than he had been in a long time.

Jesse Cromeans:

· Jesse wasn’t exactly excited to meet his new assistant, his last one had been the definition of incompetent. Jesse was a busy man, he didn’t need to be held up by another useless member of staff, he already had enough of those. The knocking on his door broke him out of his train of thought, “Sorry to interrupt sir,” he didn’t turn around or acknowledge there was a presence in his office, “I just wanted to introduce your new assistant Y/N,” he took his time before turning the chair around and what he saw definitely surprised him.

· He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been you. You seemed so soft and small, innocent in a way, he noticed the way you looked away when he had been staring too long. Jesse stood abruptly, which he noticed seemed to startle you as your eyes met his once again. You didn’t miss the small tilt of his head as his eyes scanned you before holding out his hand towards you.

· He took in your meek demeanour as you approached him and took his hand in your own, you didn’t seem afraid but definitely hesitant, which he could understand. He also noticed the moment you seemed to realise you hadn’t spoken yet, you had stopped shaking hands but neither of you had let go as you looked up at him and spoke, “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” Jesse didn’t miss the stir inside him when you called him that, looking up at him with your bright innocent eyes, “I’m incredibly excited for the opportunity to work for you.” Oh yes, Jesse was a busy man but he was sure he would be finding time to make sure you enjoyed your new position.

Michael Myers:

· Michael was bored. He had that itch that snuck upon him some nights, as he roamed the streets looking for his next kill. It had been almost a week since his last and the buzz hadn’t lasted very long. He had followed a pair of men into a park, they were loud and definitely had been drinking. Drunks make for an easy target, he stayed far enough back that he couldn’t see them but could still hear them so he knew he was on the right path.

· “Well what do we have here,” Michael stopped when he heard one of the men speak, “Shouldn’t be out here alone,” the other man said. “Just leave me alone,” he heard a third voice, a softer voice. Michael moved forward to be able to see what was happening. He stood by a corner just in time to see one of the men grab your arm as you tried to push past them, “Slow down honey, we can take you home if you want.” You pushed him and told them to leave you alone again. The man backhanded you, knocking you down to the ground and the other one crouched down to hold you down.

· Michael wasn’t sure why but something about you made him falter, you seemed so small yet watching you try to fight these men off like you had a chance made him feel something. He wasn’t sure what it was, he wasn’t used to feeling anything but something told him to stop the men. Before you could even scream you heard the man that was still standing groan out in pain and looked up to see a large knife sticking through his chest. “What the fuck,” the other man yelled lunging at Michael, he took care of him quickly. Once both bodies were on the ground he stood there looming over you, he wasn’t sure whether he was going to kill you yet. If it was anyone else they would already be dead, but something about you made him hesitate. You looked up at him and neither of you dared to be the first to move, you broke the silence, “You… you saved me.” Michael just tilted his head, he wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He needed to think, he needed to get away from here. How had a regular night of killing turned into this? Yes, Michael had been bored, but you seemed like someone who would change that.

Thomas Hewitt:

· The heat was especially unkind to Thomas today, he had been called down to help Luda at the service stop. Of course, he never minded helping his mama but the heat in the shop was stifling. He was grabbing some of the last boxes from the store room when he heard the bell on the front door chime. “Oh, look at you dear, my goodness you're all grown up.” Thomas relaxed when he realised his mama knew who was in the store, he had figured it was the new family that had moved in. Luda had told him about an old friend of hers who had moved back with her daughter. She seemed especially excited when she spoke about introducing him to you.

· “Evening Miss Luda, mama wanted me to bring you these.” You say handing over the basket, “Oh goodness, its been years since I’ve had one of your mamas pies.” she checked the contents before replacing the lid, turning back to you she remembered you hadn’t met her son yet. “Tommy, come out here, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.” Thomas hesitated before letting out a gruff sigh and walking back into the store. He walked towards you both but kept his eyes to the ground, he didn’t need to see the look of horror on your face when you found out Luda had a monster for a son.

· “This is my boy Thomas,” Luda introduced him, Thomas was expecting you to hide away from him or brush off the introduction all together, but instead he heard your timid voice as you held out your hand, “It’s nice to finally meet you Thomas, I’m sure you’ve heard as much about me as I have you.” He finally looked up then to find the most beautiful pair of eyes he had seen staring straight up at him expectantly, no fear in sight. He seemed taken aback, not expecting you to be so pretty and certainly not expecting you to be so kind. Before he could think any longer he noticed the slight blush across your cheeks and realised you still had your hand out.

· He hesitantly reached out, not sure if he was more afraid of spooking you or himself. Thomas gently took your hand in his before giving it a soft shake. You didn’t know how someone as large and strong looking as him could have such a soft touch. You were both still holding the others hand and staring at each other when Luda broke you out of your trance. “Well now that you’ve finally met, why don’t you and your mama join us for dinner?” Luda suggested. You and Thomas finally broke your gaze and you quickly composed yourself agreeing. You turned back to Thomas, “Well it was lovely meeting you Thomas, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” You smiled at him before turning back towards the door. He felt the blush on his face warming up and realised the Texas heat wasn’t the only thing that’s making him sweat.

[wolvietxt]

𝓢AFE IN 𝓨OUR 𝓐RMS !

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : angst, hurt / comfort, heavy insecurities, reader lowk takes a beating, kidnapping, fluff, reader’s insecurities stem from natasha, happy ending wc : 4.9k a/n : writing this felt like a fever dream i’ve literally never written anything so quick

you tried not to think about it too much, really, you did. but it was hard not to notice the way natasha lit up a room just by walking into it, the effortless confidence she wore like a second skin. she was a force of nature, all sharp edges and deadly grace, the kind of woman who turned heads wherever she went. and then there was you - stumbling over your words, always feeling like you were playing catch-up, never quite able to shake the feeling that you were a few steps behind everyone else.

natasha was everything you weren’t, and on some days, it felt like she was everything bucky could ever want. they had a bond that went back decades, something forged in blood and shadows, a history that was impossible to compete with. you knew they were just friends, but that didn’t stop the creeping insecurities that gnawed at you whenever you saw them together. the way bucky would smile, a rare, genuine smile, when she cracked a joke, or the way he’d lean in close to whisper something that made her laugh.

you tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. after all, bucky was with you, not her. he chose you. but there were days when that choice felt like a fluke, like you were just a placeholder for someone better. it didn’t help that natasha seemed to be everywhere - on missions, during training sessions, even at casual gatherings at the compound. she was a constant reminder of everything you felt you could never be.

and bucky, sweet as he was, had no idea. he was the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, at least when it came to you. he was always looking out for you, making sure you were okay, doing his best to squash any fears you had before they could take root. 

“hey, stop that,” he’d say whenever he caught you staring at your reflection, tugging at your clothes like you could somehow reshape yourself into someone you weren’t. he’d come up behind you, wrapping those strong arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “you’re perfect. just as you are.”

and for a while, you’d believe him. it was hard not to when he was looking at you like you hung the moon, like you were the only thing in his world that made sense. he’d pepper kisses along your jawline, whispering sweet nothings until you were giggling and squirming in his hold, your insecurities momentarily forgotten.

but lately, those moments were fewer and farther between. bucky was busy, always being pulled in a dozen different directions with missions and briefings and god knows what else. you tried to be understanding, tried not to let it bother you when he’d come home late, exhausted and distracted, his mind still miles away even when he was sitting right next to you.

“sorry, doll,” he’d mutter, brushing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the shower or falling face-first into bed. “it’s just been a long day.”

you knew it wasn’t his fault. he was doing his best, trying to balance everything. but it was hard not to feel like you were slipping through the cracks, like you were becoming an afterthought in his increasingly chaotic life. the doubts, once small and manageable, were growing louder, harder to ignore.

and then there were the whispers. 

it started small, just the occasional passing comment from the other agents - “nat and bucky make such a great team” or “you know, they’ve got years of history together.” you’d laugh it off, forcing a smile even as your heart twisted painfully in your chest. 

but it was hard to keep the smile in place when you overheard the hushed conversations in the hallways, the ones that stopped abruptly whenever you walked by. 

“i’m just saying, if i had to choose between her and natasha…” 

“oh, come on, it’s not even a contest.” 

“poor girl. she doesn’t stand a chance.”

you knew it was petty, letting other people’s opinions get to you. but it was like a thousand tiny cuts, each one adding to the weight already pressing down on you. you tried to talk to bucky about it once, stumbling over your words, trying to explain how you felt without sounding like you were accusing him of anything.

“it’s just… sometimes i feel like i’m not enough,” you’d confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “like you could do better. like you deserve someone who - ”

“hey, hey, stop that,” he cut you off, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling. “you’re more than enough, baby. you’re everything to me, okay? don’t you dare think otherwise.”

and for a moment, it helped. the way he looked at you, eyes so full of love and sincerity, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were worth it. but the doubts never truly went away. they were always there, lurking in the back of your mind, waiting for the next opportunity to rear their ugly heads.

the breaking point came one night after a mission. it was supposed to be a simple extraction, but things went sideways, leaving bucky and natasha stuck behind enemy lines for days. no communication, no updates - just radio silence that left you pacing the floors of your apartment, sick with worry.

when they finally made it back, bruised and exhausted but alive, you’d barely been able to hold back your tears. you’d thrown yourself into bucky’s arms, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“i’m okay, doll. we’re okay,” he kept repeating, but you couldn’t shake the image of him and natasha, side by side, fighting their way out of whatever hellhole they’d been trapped in. they made the perfect team, a well-oiled machine, and where did that leave you? 

the insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury came rushing back, stronger than ever. and this time, they brought friends - ugly, vicious thoughts that whispered cruel things in the dead of night.

what if he only stayed with you out of pity? what if he wished you were more like her? what if, deep down, he regretted choosing you?

you did your best to hide it, plastering on a smile whenever bucky was around. but he could tell something was off, even if he didn’t quite know what. he tried to coax it out of you, tried to make you laugh, but it was like a wall had gone up between you, one you couldn’t seem to break down.

“are you okay?” he asked one night, his voice tinged with that soft concern that always made your heart ache. “you’ve been… distant lately.”

“i’m fine, buck.” you lied, avoiding his gaze. “just tired.”

“you’ve been tired a lot lately,” he pointed out, his brow furrowing. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

“yeah, i know,” you muttered, forcing a smile. “i’m good, buck. promise.”

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms. you curled into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, but it did little to soothe the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to tell him, to pour out all the fears that were eating you alive. but what good would it do? it would only make you seem clingy, needy, and the last thing you wanted was to drive him away.

so you kept it all locked up, burying the insecurities deeper until they were practically choking you. and that’s when the nightmares started - vivid, gut-wrenching dreams of bucky walking away, of him choosing natasha over you, leaving you in the dust without a second glance.

you’d wake up gasping, tears streaming down your face, but you never told him. you couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking you were weak, that you were doubting him. 

but the cracks were starting to show, no matter how hard you tried to hide them. bucky could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, but he didn’t know how to fix it. he just held you tighter, kissed you longer, hoping it would be enough to chase away whatever demons were haunting you.

but it wasn’t enough. not this time.

 it happened on a friday, the kind of day that started off unremarkable and ended with everything falling apart. you’d been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe ordering takeout and curling up with a good book while waiting for bucky to come back from his latest mission. he’d promised it was a quick one, nothing too dangerous, just an intel-gathering job that would have him back before midnight.

you should have known better. things rarely went according to plan when it came to the avengers’ line of work. but you’d let yourself relax, lulled into a false sense of security by the thought of a quiet night in. you were in the middle of deciding between thai or pizza when it all went wrong.

the first sign was the knock at your door. you weren’t expecting anyone, but you figured it might be one of the neighbors, maybe asking to borrow something or returning the package that got delivered to their apartment by mistake. you didn’t think twice before unlocking it, didn’t even look through the peephole.

big mistake.

the door burst open, slamming into you with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. you stumbled back, dazed, and that’s when you saw them - three men, all dressed in black tactical gear, their faces hidden behind masks. panic flared in your chest, but before you could even think to scream, one of them was on you, clamping a hand over your mouth while the other pinned your arms to your sides.

you fought, kicking and writhing, but it was no use. they were bigger, stronger, and they had the element of surprise on their side. something cold and metal pressed against your neck - a needle. you barely registered the sting before everything went dark.

when you came to, your head was pounding, your mouth dry as sandpaper. it took a moment for the world to come into focus, and when it did, you wished it hadn’t. you were in a dimly lit room, concrete walls and a single flickering bulb overhead. the air was damp and musty, the scent of mildew making your stomach churn.

your wrists were bound behind you, ropes digging into your skin, and your ankles were similarly tied to the legs of the chair you were sitting in. every part of you ached, from the bruises forming on your ribs to the throbbing in your temples. you blinked against the haze, trying to remember how you’d gotten here, but it all came flooding back in bits and pieces - the masked men, the needle, the suffocating darkness.

“look who’s finally awake.”

the voice was cold, mocking, and it sent a shiver down your spine. you turned your head to see one of your captors leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. he was tall, built like a tank, with a scar running down the side of his face. behind him, another man paced back and forth, the metallic clink of his boots echoing in the small space.

“who are you?” you managed to croak out, your throat raw.

the man ignored your question, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to you. “you know, this could’ve been a lot easier,” he said, crouching down so he was eye level with you. “we didn’t want to take you. we were after someone else. but i guess you’ll have to do.”

your heart skipped a beat. “what are you talking about?”

“we wanted the winter soldier,” he replied, his grin widening. “but he’s gotten soft. too many friends, too many ties. makes it hard to get to him. so we figured, why not take someone he cares about? see if that old killer instinct kicks back in.”

fear lanced through you, sharp and sudden. they were using you as bait. your mind raced, a thousand horrible scenarios flashing before your eyes. bucky would come for you, of course he would. but the thought of him turning back into the winter soldier, of all that progress undone because of you - it was almost too much to bear.

“he won’t come,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. “you’re wasting your time.”

but the man just laughed, like you’d told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “oh, sweetheart, i think we both know that’s not true. but just in case… let’s give him a little motivation.”

without warning, he swung his fist into your side, hard enough to knock the wind out of you. pain exploded in your ribs, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry. you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. but the hits kept coming, each one worse than the last, until you were gasping for breath, stars dancing in your vision.

“you really think he cares?” the other man sneered, circling you like a predator. “if he did, he’d be here by now. maybe we should’ve taken the black widow instead. bet he’d come running for her.”

the words cut deep, reopening the wounds you’d tried so hard to close. you knew it was a lie, just another tactic to break you, but it still stung. the doubts you’d buried resurfaced, louder and crueller than ever. what if they were right? what if bucky didn’t care as much as you thought? what if he was already too late?

you closed your eyes, trying to block out their taunts, but the darkness was worse. it was like being trapped in your own mind, the insecurities feeding off the pain, growing stronger with every second that ticked by.

“face it,” the man whispered in your ear, his breath hot and rancid. “you’re just a means to an end. he’s not coming for you. no one is.”

meanwhile, miles away, bucky was losing his mind. he’d known something was wrong the moment he’d come back to the apartment and found the door ajar, the lock busted. his heart had dropped into his stomach, a cold dread settling over him as he stepped inside, calling your name.

but there was no answer, just the eerie silence of an empty home. the place was in disarray - furniture overturned, shards of glass scattered across the floor, the faint scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. and then he saw it: your phone, discarded on the ground, the screen cracked.

“no, no, no,” he muttered, a sense of panic clawing at his throat. he’d grabbed the device, trying to call you, but it went straight to voicemail. every second that passed felt like an eternity, the fear tightening around his chest like a vise.

he didn’t waste any time. within minutes, he was on the phone with sam, his voice raw and desperate as he explained what had happened. “she’s gone, sam. they took her.”

“we’ll find her, buck,” sam had promised, his tone steady even as tension crept in. “we’ll get her back.”

but bucky was already on the move, the old instincts kicking in as he pulled every string, called in every favour he had. he tore through the city like a man possessed, following every lead, every whisper, but it was like chasing shadows. 

“dammit!” he snarled, slamming his fist into the dashboard of his car, the metal denting under the force. he could feel himself slipping, the old rage bubbling up, threatening to consume him. but he couldn’t afford to lose control. not now. not when you were counting on him.

he had to find you. he had to get to you before it was too late.

you didn’t know how long you’d been there, time blurring into a painful haze of darkness and agony. every inch of you hurt, from the bruises blooming across your skin to the raw, chafed skin around your wrists where you’d tried to pull free. the taunts never stopped, a constant barrage of words designed to break you down, to make you doubt everything.

“he’s forgotten about you,” one of the men said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “he’s probably with the redhead right now. why would he bother with damaged goods like you?”

you were so tired, so damn tired. every bone in your body ached, and it was getting harder to stay awake, to keep fighting. but you couldn’t give up, not yet. because somewhere, deep down, you still believed in him. you still believed he’d come.

and then, just when you were starting to think you’d never see him again, you heard it - a distant crash, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. hope, fragile and fleeting, sparked in your chest. you struggled to lift your head, blinking against the pain.

“bucky…?”

the world around you was a blur of pain and exhaustion, your captors’ cruel words echoing in your mind like a broken record. the room was spinning, the edges of your vision growing dark as your strength waned. you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on, the fight draining out of you with each passing second. 

but then - there was a sound. faint at first, barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears, but it grew louder, more distinct. the unmistakable roar of gunfire, the heavy thud of boots against concrete. something inside you stirred, a flicker of hope that you hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime. 

“bucky…” you whispered, the name slipping from your cracked lips like a prayer. 

the door to the room you were trapped in exploded inward with a deafening crash, sending shards of wood flying. you flinched, your heart lurching in your chest, but then you saw him - bucky barnes, standing there like an angel, his face a mask of fury. 

his blue eyes were wild, searching, locking onto yours the moment he saw you slumped in the chair. “baby,” he breathed, his voice breaking on the single word. he was at your side in an instant, his metal arm slicing through the ropes that bound you, freeing you from your restraints. 

you tried to speak, tried to reach out to him, but your body was too weak, too battered. your vision blurred, and you swayed, only for bucky to catch you, pulling you into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the violence still crackling in the air around him. 

“i’m here, i’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. he cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over the bruise blooming on your cheek, his touch achingly tender. “look at me, sweetheart. open those pretty eyes for me, okay?” 

you tried, but everything hurt. every inch of you was screaming in pain, your body barely holding itself together after the relentless beating you’d endured. 

“they - they said…” you choked out, tears spilling down your cheeks. “they said you wouldn’t come… that you’d never come for me like you would for natasha.” 

the words shattered something in bucky, his jaw clenching, his eyes darkening with a pain that matched your own. “don’t you ever think that,” he said fiercely, his voice a low growl. “you are everything to me. no one - no one - comes close to what you mean to me.” 

you wanted to believe him, but the doubts still lingered, the echoes of your captors’ taunts ringing in your ears. they’d broken something inside you, something that bucky was desperately trying to piece back together with every gentle touch, every whispered word. 

he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i was tearing this city apart looking for you. i’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby.” 

but there was no more time for words, not when the sound of approaching footsteps signalled the arrival of more enemies. bucky’s eyes hardened, the winter soldier slipping into place as he gently laid you down on the floor, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. 

“stay here, okay? just for a minute,” he said, his voice steady now, controlled. “i’m gonna take care of this.” 

you nodded weakly, your body trembling as you watched him stand, turning to face the oncoming threat. he was a force of nature, moving with a deadly grace that took your breath away, every movement precise and lethal. 

you tried to stay awake, tried to focus on the sight of him, but your body was shutting down, the pain too much to bear. you could hear the sounds of battle, the screams and gunfire, but it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. 

when you came to again, it was quiet. the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the world was holding its breath. you blinked, your vision clearing slowly, and the first thing you saw was bucky kneeling beside you, his face streaked with blood and sweat. 

“you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. “you’re safe now.” 

you tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit you, and bucky was there, his arms steady around you, holding you close. “easy, easy,” he said, his hand gently brushing through your hair. “i’ve got you.” 

you leaned into him, your body shaking, and for a moment, all you could do was breathe him in, the familiar scent of leather and metal grounding you in a way nothing else could. 

“you came for me,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. 

“of course i did,” he said, his voice fierce and raw. “i’ll always come for you.” 

but even as he held you, you couldn’t shake the lingering doubts, the fears that had taken root deep inside you. “why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. “why would you… when you could have natasha? she’s… she’s perfect, bucky. she’s everything i’m not.” 

his grip tightened on you, his hands trembling slightly. “don’t say that,” he said, his voice low and desperate. “you’re not a consolation prize. you’re not second to anyone. nat’s a good friend, but she’s not you. no one could ever be you.” 

the tears came then, hot and fast, and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that had been building inside you for what felt like forever. bucky held you through it, his arms strong and steady, his whispers a lifeline in the darkness. 

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. “i’m so sorry, bucky.” 

he shook his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your cheek, like he couldn’t stop himself. “no, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m the one who’s sorry. i should have done more to make you feel safe, to make you feel loved.” 

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, to really see him, and what you saw there took your breath away. it was love, pure and unfiltered, shining in his blue eyes, his gaze locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered. 

“you… you really mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

“damn right, i do,” he said, his lips curving into a small, soft smile. “you’re everything to me. nothing and no one could ever change that.” 

he kissed you then, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every promise, into that kiss. and for the first time in what felt like forever, the doubts started to fade, the fears quieting into nothingness. 

bucky didn’t leave your side after that, not even for a moment. he carried you out of that hellhole, his arms strong and sure around you, and when you were finally safe, finally back in the comfort of your shared apartment, he stayed with you, tending to your wounds with a tenderness that made your heart ache. 

“i’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he said, his voice low and fierce as he wrapped a bandage around your wrist. “not ever.” 

“i think i’d be okay with that,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

he looked up at you then, his eyes softening, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of warmth, of hope. “i love you,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession, like something he’d been holding back for far too long. 

your breath hitched, tears welling in your eyes. “i love you too, bucky,” you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. “i always have.” 

he kissed you again, soft and sweet, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was okay. because you had him, and he had you, and that was all that mattered. 

🌀 two weeks later… 

the rain outside was a gentle lull, a soft patter against the windows that filled the quiet of your shared bedroom. the storm had come out of nowhere, blanketing the city in a soft gray, but inside, wrapped up in bucky's arms, everything was warm and bright. 

you were lying on his chest, your fingers tracing absent patterns over the smooth lines of his metal arm, marvelling at the way it glinted even in the dim light. his other arm was draped over your waist, holding you close, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go even for a second. 

“you know,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest, “i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this.” 

“tired of what?” you asked, your voice soft, a little teasing. 

“this,” he said, squeezing you just a bit tighter. “having you here. being able to hold you like this.” 

a smile tugged at your lips, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the blankets cocooning you both. it was moments like this, the simple, quiet ones, that made all the darkness, all the doubts, feel like a distant memory. 

“i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of it either,” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. 

his eyes were that perfect shade of blue, soft and warm as they watched you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “good,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” 

you laughed, a light, breathy sound that made his smile widen, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. 

there had been a time, not so long ago, when you would have doubted this, doubted him. when you would have let the fears, the insecurities, creep in and convince you that this, that he, was too good to be true. but now, lying here in his arms, it all felt so silly, so far away. 

“you know,” you said softly, your fingers still tracing those gentle patterns on his arm, “i used to wonder… why you’d want me. i used to think i wasn’t enough.” 

his brow furrowed, the faintest hint of sadness clouding his eyes. “don’t ever think that,” he said, his voice low and serious. “you’re more than enough for me, doll. you’re everything.” 

you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “i believe you,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him, soft and slow. 

he sighed into the kiss, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you there like he never wanted to let go. when you finally pulled away, he was looking at you with that same look he always did, like you were the most precious thing in his world. 

“i’m glad you do,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “because i’m gonna spend every day proving it to you.” 

“you already have,” you said, resting your forehead against his. “you always do.” 

he hummed, a soft, content sound, and then he was rolling over, pulling you with him so that you were both lying on your sides, face to face. 

“good,” he said, his voice a low whisper in the quiet room. “because i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. you’re stuck with me.” 

you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “sounds like a dream come true,” you teased, your smile widening when he leaned in to steal another kiss. 

“damn right, it is,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that playful light you loved so much. 

and as he held you there, the storm raging outside but nothing but warmth and love between you, you knew that he meant it. all those old fears, those insecurities - they were nothing compared to the love he showed you, every single day, in every single way. 

because this was real, he was real, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. 

🌀 bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[81sainz]

11:34PM ★ M. VERSTAPPEN

★ PAIRING: secretboyfriend!max x female!reader

★ GENRE: secret relationship, NSFW

★ WORD COUNT: 880

★ SUMMARY: you’re usually good at keeping your hands off of your secret boyfriend in front of a crowd, that is until a few drinks makes you insatiable.

★ WARNINGS: oh boy…alcohol consumption (but no one is drunk), making out, tongue kissing, dirty talk, oral (m. receiving), cum eating/swallowing, descriptions of spit, bathroom sex, descriptions of max’s dick, and uhhh think that is all!

★ AUTHORS NOTE: just a little something for the girlies here…hope we’re feeling good about this vegas gp weekend! Im nervous like every race weekend. lol. but I do have a new set of lando nails to be patriotic 🏁 btw idk if the ending is abrupt I did nawttt want the scene to keep going lol I said CUT!! but hope you enjoy babes.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Max could hardly catch his breath as he kissed you, his tongue tasting slightly of gin and tonic. “Someone’s going to catch us.”

You and max had been secretly seeing each other; not telling any of your friends in your close knit group. Everything always went according to plan, you both never gave off the vibe that there was something more than just a good friendship.

Until now, at a house party with a large attendance you thought it would be easy to stay away from each other. Both of you promised not to have too many drinks to not slip up and say or do something that they shouldn’t.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself and dragged Max into the nearest bathroom that you could find apart from the crowd.

“Nobody saw me.” You answered abruptly, gasping when his large hand squeezed your bare thigh after propping you up onto the countertop to be level with him. “I needed you…”

Max’s hips jolted forwards when you reached down to feel his bulge in his jeans, taking note that he already had somewhat of an erection.

“Fuck…” Max sighed at the feeling of your touch.

“Can you make sure the door is locked?” You spoke the moment that your fingers landed on his Hermes belt buckle.

“What? Yeah.” Max was clearly in another world as you broke the silence as he turned partially to make sure the door was in fact locked.

Before he could even look back at you, you were already getting to work undoing his belt.

“Finish for me?” You asked; max nodding in agreement to whatever you had asked of him. You quickly hopped off of the bathroom counter and got on your knees in front of him.

“My god…” Max spoke, finishing lowering his pants and underwear for you as you waited for him.

You shushed him. “Don’t be loud.” The music outside was far too loud for anything to be heard, but you didn’t trust anybody to not get curious and put their ear to the door.

Any sign of protest was gone once Max felt your tongue against the tip of his cock; making him suck in a harsh breath.

“Stick out your tongue.” Max suddenly spoke, and you did what he said. He gripped the base of his cock, smacking the tip against your tongue. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, you know that?”

You smirked, replacing his hand with yours as you stroked his length with whatever lubricant the saliva from your tongue offered; spitting on it when it seemed like not enough.

Max usually had good stamina, but this time you hoped you’d break him before anybody realized the two of you might be missing together.

You wrapped your lips around his tip; hollowing your cheeks to suck him in your mouth just the way that he liked.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, but you pushed further until your nose nearly touched the patch of stubble near the base of his cock. Hearing a grunt from Max, you pulled back slightly to fuck your throat with his cock.

“Oh my fucking god.” Max spoke, trying so hard not to moan as he leaned his head back.

You pulled off of him, and he looked back down at you just in time to see a thick string of saliva attached to his cock to your mouth. He whimpered slightly when you stroked his length again, giving proper attention to his tip that was super sensitive by now.

“Fuck, keep doing that…” The way Max’s voice sounded had you wanting to stop everything, pull up your dress and have him rail you into tomorrow on the bathroom counter.

“God, I love your cock.” You spoke finally, after releasing his cockhead from your lips with a lewd pop.

“Yeah? Gonna let me cum in your mouth?” Max was almost taunting you, because he knew you wouldn’t say no.

“Please, please.” You whined before Max quickly leaned down to grab your jaw, making you sit up onto your knees higher. He kissed you sloppily as he was stroking himself with his free hand.

His breathing was getting erratic, and you opened your mouth; sticking out your tongue for him to finish in your mouth as he pleased.

“Fuck.” Max swore under his breath as he tried to be as quiet as possible, all while trying to steady his breathing.

You eventually got up off of the floor with Max’s help before he fixed his clothes.

“Does my makeup look okay?” You looked at yourself in the mirror before looking to Max.

“Well uh not really.” Max laughed before fixing some of your smeared lipgloss.

“No, don’t tell me that!” You looked back into the mirror, not wanting to make it obvious what you were doing. “That’ll be embarrassing if someone points it out.”

Max turned you to face him. “Listen. I’ll find the girls, and tell them I’m taking you home.” His speech was paused by him kissing you quickly, then he was whispering. “And then you sneak out and meet me at my car, okay?”

You tried not to laugh because somehow even Max trying to whisper wasn’t that quiet. “Okay, be quick please.”

[prythianpages]

Out of My Head | Azriel x Reader

Azriel x Reader x Eris | Your father, the Night Court’s astrologer, is called to Velaris and you tag along with the hopes of catching a glimpse of Azriel, the one you’re madly in love with. The opportunity for Azriel to show you around comes up and you take it, unaware that things are about to become messy…

warning: this was meant to be cute & short to show your relationship with Az but it ended up being 5,685 words oops lol, some angst, rhys kinda being an asshole again

a/n: Eris does make an appearance in this if you look closely 🤭 I tried to write this fic off as a stand alone so it's still easy to follow but if you need more context, here is the masterlist.

Meeting Azriel had felt like fate, as if the stars and his shadows themselves had conspired to cross your paths. Becoming his friend had been a choice. But falling in love with him? That was out of your control, like being swept away by a tide you hadn’t noticed rising. 

Now, you were drowning and happy to drown. To let the flood of him consume you entirely. Every time you’d see him, even from afar, it’d fill your chest with a feeling you couldn’t explain, your heart leaping at the mere thought of catching his gaze.

You welcomed the flood of emotions, let it carry you to depths you’d never dared to explore. Your heart was so irrevocably his, you had no desire to find the surface.

So when Rhysand had invited your father to Velaris to discuss his first born’s birth chart, you insisted on coming along. It had taken days of pleading to wear down his resolve, but you had done it. Manifested it, rather, with the help of the moonwater you kept hidden beneath your bed.

Seeing Azriel was not guaranteed, as you were unsure if he’d even be in Velaris. But that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go. Leaving behind the harshness of the Court of Nightmares, even for a short while, was reward enough. And if fortune smiled upon you, perhaps your father would let you assist with the reading, just this once.

Your father had never quite embraced your desire to follow in his footsteps.  The way he’d look at both you and your brother with that disappointed gleam in his eyes stung. He had always hoped you would stay at home and learn the ways of a “perfect,” traditional Night Court wife, much like your mother. His dreams of a successor rested squarely on your brother’s shoulders, not yours. But much to his dismay and your relief, your brother had chosen to become a warrior in Keir’s army.

Everything you knew of astrology, you’d learned by sneaking into his sessions, stealing glances at his star charts, or losing yourself in the dusty books of the Night Court’s observatory. That cold, stone-walled tower had become your sanctuary—your only glimpse of the night sky.

Though still in the Night Court, the air in Velaris was different. It felt cleaner, lighter. Freer. A wonderful contrast to the oppressive weight of the Court of Nightmares. You took a deep breath, savoring the rare glimpse of the day sky from the High Lord’s impressive townhouse, your father having just winnowed you both.

The sun felt so warm and soothing against your skin. Too caught up in the beauty of the daytime sky, you didn’t notice when your father abruptly stopped. You walked straight into him, sending the heavy box and stack of books in your arms tumbling to the ground.

A hiss of disapproval escaped your father as he turned to scowl at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, quickly dropping to your knees to gather the scattered items.

“I should’ve left you at home,” he said with an exhausted sigh.

"But who then would assist you in bearing the weight of all these books, given the state of your back? Rest assured, my arms are more than capable,” you said with a huff as you slowly rose back to your feet, arms overwhelmed with the weight of your father’s things. “I shall gladly bear the burden for you, father."

“Clearly.” Your father said dryly, his gaze pointedly lingering on the dented corner of one of the boxes.

You winced at his tone, grateful his back was turned to you again. The door to the High Lord’s and High Lady’s house opened, the former being the one to greet you. Even Rhysand was different here. His violet eyes gleamed warmly, free of the cruelty he wore like armor in the Court of Nightmares. The smile he sent you both softened some of the tension knotting your chest.

 “Damus, Y/n,” he greeted. “I appreciate you both coming all this way.”

Rhysand gestured for you to follow him. This was not your first time in Velaris but it was your first time meeting Rhysand in a private residence of his here. You couldn’t hold back the small gasp that escaped you as you marveled at the beauty around. Paintings, no doubt crafted by the hands of your High Lady, adorned the wall and there was light. So much light and warmth in this house. It truly felt like a home. No stone walls, no darkness, no cold.

There was a flutter in your chest when you felt something cool and velvet-like brush against your legs. You instinctively glanced down, though the books obstructed your view. And when you looked back up, there it was–that giddy leap in your heart.

Azriel immediately rose from the couch he had been seated on, his hazel eyes meeting yours before they dropped to the weight in your arms. With a few swift steps, he was in front of you, plucking the boxes and books from your grip as though they weighed nothing. You exhaled softly, your thanks barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.

Azriel smiled, shadows curling gently around him as he shifted closer. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming along today,” he murmured.

“Neither was I,” you admitted, turning your head toward him as you continued to walk. “But I’m glad I did.”

“So am I,” Azriel said.

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze. Azriel was glad you were here. Perhaps, even waiting for you, hoping for you to show up. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps it was proof of what you’d always suspected—that the bond you felt pulling you toward him wasn’t one-sided. A spark of vindication flared as you imagined Eris sneering at you from some dark corner of your mind. If only he were here to witness this moment. To see just how wrong he’d been.

Azriel did like you and it was only a matter of time before it evolved into something more.

You frowned, shaking the thought away. Why were you even thinking about Eris? And since when did proving anything to him matter?

“Y/n.” Your father’s sharp tone dragged you back to reality. “The books.”

“Oh,” you breathed, glancing at Azriel, who still held them. Before you could speak, your father’s gaze darkened as he realized the task you were supposed to handle had been passed off.

Azriel’s jaw tightened but he said nothing as he handed the books and boxes over.

You moved to follow your father into the study, but he blocked your path, his glare cutting through you. “Stay here and don’t cause trouble,” he said before the door shut with a resounding thud.

You flinched, staring at the closed door. “Sweet Cauldron,” you muttered under your breath, “did Mercury retrograde move into his mood?”

A shadow curled around your wrist, the soft caress of it soothing the sting of your father’s dismissal. The corner of your lips lifted slightly. Azriel had told you once how the shadows came to him during a time of unbearable darkness, offering comfort when nothing else could. They showed him that darkness wasn’t inherently wicked, that it could hold its own kind of solace and strength.

Azriel had also told you that his shadows didn’t approach others. At least not like this, so openly and friendly. To them, you were one of the few exceptions, having met them before you properly acquainted yourself with their master.

You often wondered why. Did they sense the sorrow you tried to bury beneath and conceal? The longing that seeped into your soul–longing not just for their master but for freedom, for a life beyond the suffocating confines of the Court of Nightmares?

Your gaze lifted, finding Azriel’s attention focused on the tendril wrapped around your wrist. His hazel eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful, as if trying to decipher a mystery.

“Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

Azriel blinked, his attention falling back to you, gaze softening. The siphons on his leathers caught the light and your eye. You followed the movement of his arms as he slid his hands into the pocket of his leathers and wondered what they’d look like in casual clothing. And how far did those tattoos stretch, the ones that peeked above his collar and disappeared into those leathers? 

“We could go for a walk?”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “A walk?”

Azriel sauntered closer to you and a tingly sensation bubbled up in your stomach. “It’s a beautiful day outside and I would hate for you to waste it in here.”

“But my father…”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Azriel replied with a small, sly grin that felt almost boyish, his shadows dancing around him. He then gestured toward the door to Rhysand’s study, where some of his shadows had already slithered beneath the gap, lying in wait.  “Your father will be in there for a while. And besides, I did promise you I’d show you around, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip in contemplation, gaze flickering between the door and Azriel. This was what you’d wanted, been hoping for, wasn’t it? A chance to see Azriel, and now here he was, offering you his time. Your heart leaped at the opportunity, already screaming yes.

But your mind wasn’t so easily swayed. What if your father needed you? Wouldn’t this be your perfect chance to prove your worth, to show him how capable you were? Then again, the way he had dismissed you earlier, slamming the door in your face, made it clear he wasn’t expecting or even wanting your help…

“Only if you’d like, of course,” Azriel added, his tone soft. He must’ve sensed your troubled thoughts. “I can always keep you company here instead.”

The flutter in your chest returned with full force. Azriel seemed to really want to spend time with you. Alone. And as much as you admired the beauty of the High Lord’s house, the promise of fresh air, open skies, and Azriel’s company was too tempting to resist.

You found yourself nodding, your heart overriding your head. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

**

Velaris continued to take your breath away. 

Children darted between market stalls, their faces alight with pure delight as they chased one another without fear. So incredibly and unbelievably different to the cold silence and rigid rules of propriety in Hewn City. Here, no one glanced over their shoulder with suspicion or hurried along with their head bowed.

The people of Velaris moved freely. Kindness radiated from strangers who greeted one another warmly, who paused to chat in the bustling markets or helped an elder carry their bags. Artists lined the streets, painting the city’s beauty on canvas while musicians filled the air with beautiful melodies.

Azriel led you through the city, showing you as many places he could. He took you to a small bakery first, where he swore the best chocolate croissants were made. Then, to a cafe that sold a variety of appetizing teas. You drank it all in, committing the wonders of Velaris to memory.

As you walked along a bridge, the river’s gentle current caught your eye. It was broad daylight yet, the water glimmered like liquid starlight. You paused, resting against the bridge’s railings. Azriel moved to stand beside you, tucking in his wings so they wouldn’t bump against you. 

You couldn’t help but think how unfair life could be. For a place such as Hewn City to exist at the same time as this one. Both of the same court, yet so divided. And why had you been born in the wrong one? 

Azriel picked up on the way your expression had fallen. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said and at the way Azriel’s eyes watched you closely, you knew he was not convinced. You let out a soft sigh, relenting.  

“It’s just…I thought places like this only existed in my dreams,” you glanced down at your hands. “And now, I just can’t help but dread my attendance at the next Court of Nightmare’s ball even more…when I could be here instead, watching the stars from the City of Starlight itself..free of any worry, any burdens.”

Azriel frowned at the hidden implication of your words.

A dark tendril fluttered toward you, brushing the hair that had fallen back behind your ear. Another softly brushed against your face and wiped a stray tear away. More went to you, wrapping around your hands, seeking to give you comfort and you honestly weren’t sure if it was of their own will or Azriel’s.

Their comfort brought you back to the fateful night you first met them. You’d known of them–of the Night Court’s shadowsinger, at least–long before you actually knew them. The same way you had known Cassian was the Night Court’s leading general and Morrigan, the court overseer.

**

Things had changed after the events under the mountain. High Lord Rhysand had gathered the Court of Nightmares council, a tense meeting filled with bitter accusations thrown across the room. Keir and a few other noble lords, including your father, sat around the table, each one arguing fiercely over who did what under Amarantha’s rule.

As the heated exchange unfolded, your father’s loyalty was questioned, and the words left you unsettled. You had nearly spilled wine over one of the lords in your discomfort, hands trembling as you failed to properly grip the chalice.

But then, a dark shape emerged from the shadows, winding its way around your wrist like a silent guardian. The shadow stayed there, curling around you in such a way that was strangely comforting.

You had snuck glances at the shadowsinger then. 

Azriel stood just behind Rhysand, his face a stoic mask. His attention was elsewhere, either unaware or pretending to be, of the shadow that had strayed from him and wrapped around you.

A break was called. And then, Keir, always the one to provoke, threw an insult at your father. You had no control over your tongue, the words slipping from you without thought. It was in defense of your family but speaking out of turn was a dangerous thing for a female to do. Especially in this court. 

And though you had done it in your father’s defense, he did not return the favor. His face twisted in a mixture of disgust and disapproval, making you feel smaller than you ever had.

Keir’s face reddened with rage and as he glared at you, the shadow around your wrist tightened. Azriel’s eyes flashed, a cold, sharp stare locking onto Keir. It was the closest thing to protection anyone had offered you in this ruthless court. It left you stunned and wide-eyed. 

You had been quickly dismissed by your father then. The weight of your court’s cruelty pressed down on you, suffocating. You fled, finding an empty room, locking yourself away in a cold, lonely corner of the building.

And then the tears came. You didn’t even notice the darkness that had formed around you, so accustomed to the shadows yourself. But this wasn’t the same darkness. This one was… different. Comforting. Protective.

You could only stare at them in awe, one hand reaching upwards to touch the shadows.

But when the door creaked open, your hand fell back to your side. Fear had risen in your throat as your gaze shot to the tall figure in the doorway. You shifted backwards, your back hitting the stone wall behind you, fearing the worst. It was the shadowsinger. And he had come to punish you on behalf of your father.

But he did no such thing.

His eyes swept over the shadows surrounding you—his shadows. The mask of indifference he always wore slipped for just a moment. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, shock flashing in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, sending the shadows a look that had them slithering back to him, albeit reluctantly. “If they’ve scared you. They don’t normally do this…are you alright?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes. “You’re not going to punish me?”

His brow furrowed deeper, confusion crossing his face. “Punish you? For what?”

There was a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a soft exhale. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. His shadows swirled around him, some curling around his ear, whispering to him. Whatever they whispered to him had his expression softening.

“If anyone needs punishment, it’s Keir. For having the nerve to talk to you like that.”

Azriel took your silence as an invitation. He lowered himself, slowly, attentive to the way your breath hitched. Finding no resistance from you, he flared his wings slightly to allow him to settle on the floor across from you. His boots brushed against your shoes, and he gave a quiet apology. Others had done much worse and yet, no one had ever apologized to you.

“I’m Azriel,” he told you with a small smile, quickly adjusting himself to the cramped space. “You’ve met my shadows. Though I control them, they don’t always listen. Sometimes, they follow their own will. I really hope they didn’t frighten you.”

You were still frozen in disbelief, but in that moment, something inside you shifted. A spark of hope—a spark you hadn’t known existed in the Court of Nightmares, didn’t know could exist.  

“They didn’t. They’re nice,” you admitted quietly, gaze following the movement of his shadows. Your eyes then met Azriel’s, surprised at the warmth you saw in them.

And then slowly, you felt your body relax. “I’m y/n…”

**

A shadow wrapped itself around your wrist, squeezing you gently, pulling you from your thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one from that night.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured sheepishly, the same way he always did when his shadows caught him off guard.  “They really like you.”

The shadow unraveled from your wrist, slowly and reluctantly. It returned to Azriel, the others that had begun to surround you doing the same.

“S’okay,” you shrugged, though a small wave of disappointment settled over you at the thought of his shadows acting on their own will and not his. “I like them too. My little friends, they keep me company during those dreaded court events. Them and Eris, though the latter isn’t exactly one I welcome…”

Azriel’s body tensed at the mention of the Autumn male.

“But it’s strange,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Azriel this. “Despite all the insults he throws my way, he’s somehow kinder than all the other males at court. Maybe Autumn males are–”

“Please, don’t ever pair Eris and the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence,” Azriel interjected, his tone filled with disbelief. “You have to be careful around him, Y/n. I don’t know why he gravitates toward you…” Your heart stuttered in your chest and Azriel's gaze hardened. “But he’s not to be trusted. If he continues to bother you…”

Was that… jealousy? The thought made your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady.

“He’s fine,” you said, your voice a little too casual. Azriel went still, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. You felt the heat rise in your neck, and you hastily added, “I mean—it's fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to,” Azriel insisted. He turned to face you fully, and your stomach fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I can handle him for you.”  

Azriel’s presence alone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing you. It sure kept Keir from lashing back at you all those years ago and the handsy, sickening males away from you during court events. You knew he would handle Eris without hesitation. So you should’ve said yes, and accepted his offer. 

But, as the words settled on your tongue, you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted him to.

However strange and uncomfortable your encounters with Eris often were, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled at you despite his sharp words and caustic demeanor. It was almost like a game, a dance of sorts, and you found yourself drawn to it. To him, more than you cared to admit.

A small part of you wanted to continue this twisted back-and-forth with him. He was not a welcome companion but one whose absence would, much to your denial or disbelief, go noticed. The way he challenged you, made your pulse quicken, even when you didn’t want it to. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long, and how he always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin…

No. You didn’t want Azriel to step in. Not yet. Not while this strange curiosity about Eris still simmered beneath your skin. 

“I can handle it,” you murmured, though the words felt more like a reassurance to yourself than to him. Your gaze trailed after the fae strolling along the river’s edge. Before Azriel could protest, you turned to him with a smile, changing the conversation. “Can we walk along the shore?”

The Sidra river was even lovelier up-close. With the sun beginning to set, the sky blushed in hues of pinks and oranges and you felt as if you were walking through a dream. A dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Azriel walked quietly beside you, the tension from earlier gone.

You breathed in deeply, reveling in the sweet mixture of fresh air and Azriel’s scent. The sound of water rippling against the shore was just as soothing as the early evening breeze. Your gaze fell on a rock ahead, its smooth surface glimmering in the fading light, and you quickly bent down to pick it up. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, watching as the stone sparkled like starlight cupped in your hand.

“It’s a rock,” Azriel said drily.

You couldn’t help but grin, lifting the rock to show him. “It’s not just any rock,” you corrected him. “It’s a rock from Velaris. It’ll make a perfect addition to my growing collection of–”

“Rocks,” Azriel finished for you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

He knew about your rock collection. Of course, he knew. How could he not? Azriel had been the one to enable it. It had started as a joke, a silly request from you when he had mentioned visiting Spring. You had asked for a souvenir, half expecting him to politely decline.  

"What could you possibly want from Spring?" he had asked. “A rock?”

And out of all the things you could’ve chosen, you had simply nodded your head. “Sure.”

The way he had returned from his mission, slipping a smooth rock from his leathers and placing it in your hand, had been so unexpected, so sweet. You’d gasped, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He had remembered. 

And when he mentioned going to Winter Court next, you had shyly grinned at him, asking for another “souvenir.” What had started as an innocent collection had become something far more significant to you. Azriel didn’t know but that rock from Spring was the first gift you had ever received in years–decades, almost.

You treasured those silly rocks, keeping them lined up neatly on your dresser. You even painted them with little designs—daisies on the rock from Spring, a tiny shell on the one from Summer, and snowflakes on the one from Winter.

“This may actually finish my collection,” you mused, slipping the rock into the pocket of your skirts, your smile soft.

“I thought I had brought you one already?”

“Must’ve slipped your mind,” you replied with a playful shrug of your shoulders.

Azriel’s expression shifts into one of mock seriousness. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing his head before his voice turned teasing. “What will I bring you now, then? I’ll be flying out to Dawn next week. You sure you don’t want another rock from there? Or perhaps, this time, a jar of dirt?”

You rolled your eyes, the motion automatic but immediately followed by a sharp pang in your chest as your heart seemed to freeze. A lady, especially one from your court, rolling her eyes at a male? No matter how familiar you could be with a male, a gesture such as this was dangerous and unforgiving.

But Azriel only chuckled, his gaze warm and unbothered. Relief rushed through you, leaving you momentarily breathless, though you tried to play it off with a dry tone. “Ha,” you said, your thoughts already drifting to other possibilities. “But, if you are going to Dawn…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows raising slightly as his lips curved. “Go on.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a feather…”

His dark brows furrowed in confusion, and you felt your heart beat louder in your chest. “A feather?” he repeated.

You shrugged again, trying to look casual about it. “A feather from a swan from Dawn. They’re native to the court and mate for life, you know. Some see them as a symbol for love and fidelity. I’d like a feather so that I can add it to my Aphrodite altar.”

“I see.” Azriel’s gaze had turned thoughtful, clearly processing the information. There was a brief pause, and you held your breath, suddenly aware of how ridiculous your request might sound…

 “Y/n, are you… practicing witchcraft?”

You react almost too quickly, it’s suspicious. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head with a small laugh. Even though you had sought out the help of a witch not too long ago, something you’d probably take to the grave with you, given the failed results. Or the fact that this feather would be an offering given with intent to Aphrodite for luck and blessings in love…

”Well, not exactly, I just–it’s a…”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Azriel mused with a chuckle, saving you from whatever disaster of an excuse you could come up with. The sound of his laughter was like a release, the tension in your shoulders easing. “If it’s a Swan’s feather you want, then I’ll make sure I bring one to you.”

There was something in his tone, the certainty in which he said the words, that had warmth pooling in your stomach. It was the kind of warmth that spread quickly, making your whole body feel lighter and creeping up into your chest. 

You turned to look at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Your feet faltered as the rush of emotions made you dizzy. You barely noticed the uneven ground beneath you, and before you could regain your balance, you felt yourself tipping forward. Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you steady against him.

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his touch, gaze falling to where his hand rested on your arm. Slowly, your gaze trailed upwards. Azriel’s gaze was soft, his eyes searching yours in that way that made your heart race. 

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Of course.”

You were both so close now, you could feel the heat of his breath. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The sound of the river faded, replaced by the pounding of your heart. His free hand brushed against yours, a touch that sent a spark skittering across your skin.

And then, it happened.

A sharp, sudden tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t the pleasant flutter you’d grown accustomed to in Azriel’s presence. No, this was something else entirely. A pull, intense and demanding, like an unseen thread yanking you backward. You gasped, flinching out of Azriel’s grip, who immediately let you go when he felt your resistance.

Your hand flew to your chest. Azriel’s brows furrowed in concern and his shadows stirred anxiously, circling you as if they could shield you from whatever had caused your distress. “Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know,” you murmured, your fingers pressing against the spot where the ache had settled, desperate to soothe the inexplicable burning. “But I think I’m fine now. ”

You weren’t sure if you were reassuring him or yourself. But you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to Azriel with an uncertain smile.

He took a hesitant step closer, hand hovering over your shoulder. “Are you sure? I can take you to a healer–”

“No,” you immediately shook your head, eyes widening. Calling for a healer meant risking your father finding out you had not heeded to his order of staying put, of you not causing trouble. You’d rather suffer the consequences of whatever sickness had suddenly struck you than be left to deal with your father’s reproach.

“I’m okay. Could we–could we head back now?”

**

Azriel's pov

Worry continued to brew in Azriel’s mind as he watched you settle onto an armchair, hand still rubbing at your chest. His shadows twitched restlessly, curling tighter around him. You had always been easy to read but he found himself struggling to decipher the distant look in your eyes. You hadn’t even looked his way once since he winnowed you both back to the townhouse.

He parted his lips, ready to urge you to see a healer, despite your earlier protest. But a shadow curled itself around his ear and he made himself busy with the book in his hand instead.

The door to Rhysand’s study opened. Azriel’s shadows whispered to him as they noted the way you had stiffened the moment your father stepped out and forced a smile onto your face. He was always unsettled by your father’s indifference to you, his grip on the book he held tightening.

"Let’s go home."

Lord Damus’s voice was detached as he dumped the books in his arm into yours. Azriel noticed immediately that it was a smaller load than what you had arrived with, but that did little to ease him as you winced under the weight.

He moved instinctively to help you, but the harsh stare Rhysand shot at him from across the room made him pause. Azriel blinked, momentarily stunned by the anger that flashed in Rhysand’s eyes.

"Thank you for your time, Lord Damus. I wish you both a safe trip back," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and composed, contrasting the look he had sent Azriel.

Lord Damus bowed in respect and you did the same. Albeit, with a struggle, given all the weight in your arms. Some of Azriel’s shadows darted toward you, hiding within the shadows of the sitting room. They settled underneath the books you carried, helping you silently. And at the way your arms eased, so did Azriel’s.

It was short lived because as soon as you and your father disappeared, Rhysand turned back to him.

“My office. Now.”

Rhysand’s tone left no room for questioning or contemplating. Azriel’s shadows hissed at the sharpness but the shadowsinger yielded to his High Lord’s command. As he entered the office, the faint traces of Feyre and Nyx’s scent lingered in the air, but neither was there now. 

“Did something happen?” Azriel asked, senses on high alert.

Rhysand leaned against the front of his desk, his gaze locking onto Azriel. "I didn’t think I’d have to ask this twice, but... are you out of your mind?"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, speaking in tongues. He let out a sound, a mix of disbelief, defensiveness, and the all-too-familiar hint of rage that had been waiting just beneath the surface. Not again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Rhysand’s humorless chuckle cut through the air. “Oh, trust me, I wish I was.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. 

“I can’t believe you would be so careless as to sneak her out of here when…”

“Her father has no clue,” Azriel shot back, trying to defend the choice, though even he knew it wasn’t enough.

“I bet your scent still lingers on her,” Rhysand snapped. “Do you know how dangerous that could be? For an unwed lady of her status to be caught alone with another male, to smell like another male? It could ruin her. I don’t know what you’re intentions are with her but Y/n is in love with you—”

“I know.” Azriel cut in sharply.

Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his voice hardening into ice. “So you do know. What’s your game here, Az? Because all I can think and worry about is how it will end for her.”

Before Azriel could respond, Rhysand’s voice rang out again, cutting through the growing tension like a blade.

“You will stay away from her.”

The words hit Azriel like a slap, his body going rigid as the words seemed to echo in his mind.  Because this was not his brother talking to him. It was his High Lord. His shadows were seething, reflecting the storm brewing inside. How had it come to this…again? The same damn warning, as though Azriel couldn’t be trusted to make his own decisions. 

First, it was Mor. Then, it was Elain. And now you.

Unbelievable. His lips twisted into a humorless, bitter smile then. “Should I just ask you for a roster of females I’m allowed to be with? It would save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Rhysand breathed in sharply, barely able to restrain his vexation. “And I pray to the Mother I won’t have to say it for a third time...”

Azriel’s shadows froze mid-whisper. The room grew quiet and unnervingly still. His wings twitched, as if they too, braced themselves. Because he already knew what was coming. 

But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall. Heck, I’ll offer to pay for it this time.”

And the words stung just as sharply as they had the first time.

“Just stay away from y/n.”

[series masterlist]

A/n: I had fun writing this <3 and I hope you can understand a bit more of why reader is madly in love with Az. I mean, who isn't? lol But does he like her back or simply like the idea of someone being in love with him for a change…😈

series tag list: @kaitttttttt , @nebarious , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @justyouraveragekleemain , @tothestarsandwhateverend ,

@ratgirl2020 , @myromanempiree , @vanserrasimp , @itsswritten, @acourtofbatboydreams

@imjustagirl713, @paleidiot, @scarsandallaz, @marina468

@utterlyhopeful-fics, @bia-wayne-west

if you asked to be put on the tag-list and don't see your username, please remind me!

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[ellecdc]

Wolfstar x bookworm!reader

What about reader, Regulus and Barty have their own little chaotic book club and Wolfstar often have to go in search of reader as Barty happens to enjoy switching the location of said meetings.

Wolfstar Sirius, ends up dragging reader away for cuddles and reader ends up reading to them, running her fingers through Sirius's hair as he needs extra affection

Hope this inspires you, I hope you feel better soon, sending all my optimism your way 🫶

you guys really came through with the cutest wolfstar requests - thank you and I owe you my life

poly!wolfstar x bookworm!reader who has a book club with Regulus and Barty...much to Sirius' chagrin

CW: fem!reader, Sirius being a sucky baby, Barty being a shit disturber, Regulus being exhausted, Remus being there for the drama

Remus didn’t bother looking up from his book at the sound of his dorm room door slamming open unceremoniously followed by the sound of Quidditch equipment falling in a heap on the ground because he didn’t need to; it had Sirius written all over it.

Not only would Prongs never treat his equipment with such disrespect and disregard, but he also always came back from practice far too excitedly.

“Fucking hells, Prongs is working us hard.” Sirius grumbled as he fell face first spread-eagle onto his bed. 

“Rough.” Remus gruffed back, knowing better than to try to say anything even remotely supportive of James’ coaching methods, but also not feeling particularly sorry for his boyfriend, seeing as he actively chooses to be on the Gryffindor team every year.

“Where’s our dolly?” Sirius mumbled into his bedding. 

Remus failed to smother a smirk as he flipped a page in his book. “Reading.”

Sirius’ head popped up at that as he looked at Remus bemusedly. “Then why isn’t she here reading with you?”

“Because she’s reading with her book club.”

Remus’ response was met with a small bout of silence.

A very small bout.

“Why aren’t you in the book club?”

Remus finally let his book fall to his lap in order to consider Sirius. “Because I’m not reading the same book as they are.”

“Who’s they?”

“Sirius.” Remus warned.

“Remus.” Sirius returned without hesitation. 

The two boys stared insistently at the other; Remus fighting the urge to laugh at how petulant Sirius looked with his hair still all windswept and falling out of the bun he’d thrown it in for practice. 

“Who’s they?” Sirius repeated with faux casualty. 

“Regulus and Junior.”

All faux casualty was thrown out the window as Sirius slammed his hands onto his bed and sat up on his knees quickly. “You’re sodding kidding me!” 

“‘Fraid not, Pads.” Remus offered as he turned to look back down at his book.

Sirius was having none of that as he accio’d Remus’ book into his hand.

“You let her leave with Regulus and Junior!?”

“What do you mean let, Pads? I’m not her keeper.” Remus scolded. Sirius looked like he really wanted to argue with that point, but also knew better. 

“Well…this is just not right at all!” 

“What makes it wrong, Sirius? That she’s not here to cuddle you?” Remus asked flatly. 

“Yes!” He shouted in exasperation as he headed towards the dorm room door, and whilst Remus found his boyfriend quite exhausting right now, he couldn’t pass up the show this was guaranteed to provide. 

Any tension that dissipated from Sirius’ shoulders as he spotted you in the library quickly returned when he also spotted his younger brother and his brother’s best friend sitting along with you. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and snapped his book shut abruptly knowing full well that Sirius’ temper tantrum was about to force their book club to a close, but Barty simply smirked at the promise of some drama. 

“Sorry, but I’m afraid this book club is closed; we’ve already hit our quota for Black’s.” Barty jeered as Sirius approached your table.

“Sod off, Junior.” He grumbled quietly.

“Hi Siri! How was your practice?” You asked cheerfully; Remus almost laughed at the way most of Sirius’ ire melted away at the question.

“Long.” He pouted, causing you to coo in sympathy.

“James working you too hard?” You asked tenderly, taking his first two fingers into your hand from where his hand was dangling dejectedly beside you. 

“Oh cry me a sodding river, Black.” Barty scoffed. “Now would you skedaddle please? We’re trying to have a tantalising discussion on the ins and outs of the literary masterpiece Alice in Wonderland.”

Remus couldn't restrain the laugh that bubbled out of him at that. “Are you guys actually reading Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes.” Regulus sneered defensively. 

“Treasure thought I’d love it.” Barty explained haughtily. “And she was right.”

“I don’t give a thestral’s arse what you’re reading, Junior; I want my girlfriend back!” Sirius barked, earning him shushes from surrounding students. 

Barty looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the verbal sparring that was no doubt growing to near physical sparring levels when Regulus rolled his eyes and stood. “Barty, please; I really don’t feel like fielding one of my brother’s meltdowns.”

“Maybe I feel like fielding one of your brother’s meltdowns; did you ever think about that, Regulus? Salazar, you Black’s are so selfish.” He spat with vitriol; and though he continued berating his friend, he did in fact collect his book and his notes and stand from the table, continuing to jeer at Regulus as they exited the library. 

“I’m sorry we interrupted your book club, lovebug.” Remus placated as you turned to consider your two boyfriends. 

“I’m not!” Sirius argued quickly. “I wanted my post-practice cuddles.” He pouted, the end of his sentence trailing off as Remus noted the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

Your face softened as you looked at Sirius with equal parts love and teasing. “I’m terribly sorry, Siri.” 

“Well…thank you.” He mumbled. 

“Come on then.” Remus offered with a laugh, patting Sirius on the bum roughly. “Let’s go for our post-practice cuddles then.”

You stood from the table, accepting Remus’ hand as you did.

“No, none for Moony.” Sirius whined petulantly, causing Remus to scoff indignantly. 

“Why not!?”

“You have not been sympathetic nor helpful in the slightest to my plight.”

“I came with you to fetch her!” Remus defended. 

“No.” Sirius started, throwing him a glare that held little to no malice. “You came to watch me argue with Junior and Reg.”

“Same thing.” Remus muttered quietly, earning him another glare from Sirius.

You squeezed Remus’ hand twice as you bumped your elbow into Sirius’ side, encouraging him to throw an arm over your shoulders. “What book would you like to read, Sirius?” You asked him sweetly. 

And that’s how Remus found himself laying on his bed alone as you and Sirius laid in his bed; Sirius’ head propped on your chest as you read from the beginning of Alice in Wonderland and played with his hair the way he liked equally in his human and animagus form. And Remus couldn’t find it in him to be particularly perturbed when the two of you looked so sodding sweet.

[arieslost]

home to you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

word count: 2,978

warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your sunburn is peeling.

Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.

“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.

“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”

“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You think he doesn’t feel the same way.

When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.

So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.

He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.

“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”

Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”

“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”

“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”

You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”

“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.

“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”

“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.

He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.

You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”

His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”

You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”

“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”

“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”

“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Osc.”

You hang up first.

“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.

You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.

Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.

Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.

Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.

“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.

“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.

Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??

“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.

“Always here for you, mate.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I don’t care.”

That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”

He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.

She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.

“It’s about-”

“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.

“You do?”

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“It never did.”

She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”

She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.

The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.

“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”

Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.

He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.

He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.

“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”

“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.

You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.

He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”

I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.

“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”

“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”

“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.

“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”

You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.

“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”

You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”

“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.

You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.

“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”

You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”

“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”

You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”

You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.

“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”

“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”

“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.

“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”

“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”

“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.

The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.

It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.

The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.

“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.

“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.

“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.

note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @niallerswolf @fangirl-dot-com @hood-jabi @vellicora @k-pevensie28 @cami26cami @arian-directioner @vildetry06 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld

[obbystars]

It’s You!

Synopsis: Despite everything, it’s still you.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not / Sebastian and Reader live together / Connected to my previous fic, Drown in the Deep, but this can be read as a standalone / Cigarettes cause it’s canon Sebastian smokes, up to you if reader also smokes / Fluff + Comfort / Reader has read Sebastian’s document, but nothing too specific is mentioned from it

(UNDERTALE REFERENCE RAHHH anyway another fic where I’m playing/experimenting with Sebastian’s character. I’m trying to find something that clicks, y’know? You’ll probably expect me to be writing him for a bit until my fixation decides to latch onto something else.)

Credit: Dividers by @cafekitsune

The moment you felt the empty space beside you, you felt wide awake. You’re not sure how long he’s been gone for, but that part doesn’t really matter. You threw off the blanket and got up, almost immediately feeling a shiver run down your spine. It’s cold.

You began to search through the house, quietly opening doors and listening if you could hear movement. Not in the bathroom, not in the living room, not in the dining room or the kitchen… You grabbed a snack while in there just in case. You checked everywhere inside the house. He’s definitely outside then, probably smoking. You grabbed a sweater and made your way to the back door.

Hearing the door open, Sebastian turns to you with a cigarette still in his hand.

“Oh, hey,”

You tilted your head with a smile, “Hey. You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, turning away as he said that, “I’m fine, just can’t sleep,”

You hum as you walked to him and gently lay your head on his shoulder. He didn’t react at first, but you feel him lean onto you as well. He eventually relaxes.

“Let me guess. Nightmare?”

“You could say that,”

“You wanna tell me about it?”

He shrugged, “Not really,”

Sebastian wasn’t one to talk about certain things much like this, so you didn’t question it any further. You pulled out the snack you grabbed earlier and held it up to him.

“Care for a trade?” You smirked, shaking the bag.

He smiles a little as you held out your other hand for his cigarette. Once you feel him place it in your hand, you let him have the snack. It was mostly quiet once he started eating. Silent moments like this were nice. It makes you feel sleepy sometimes and you could very much fall asleep right here on his shoulder. Unfortunately, the wind picked up and it started to get a bit cold. Both of you shivered.

You gently patted his arm, “You ready to go back inside?”

There was a brief silence between the two of you before he nods, “Yeah,”

Sebastian leans off of you as you do the same. Just as you turned around to head inside, he tugs on the sweater.

“Wanna return my sweater?”

“You’ll get it back in the morning, it’s mine now,” you smile.

He rolled his eyes as he followed you inside. You kept the swearer on when you two got to bed. You crawled in on your side and held out your arms to Sebastian as he got in. He laid his head over yours while you got yourself comfortable on top of him.

“Hey Seb, you know what we should do?”

Sebastian doesn’t take his eyes off the ceiling, “What?”

“We should go to an aquarium some time,”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Fish are cool. Plus, I figured it’d be a fun and cool little date, y’know?”

He lets out a laugh, “I’m getting the feeling that’s not all,”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff. He wasn’t wrong about that, so you continued.

“Yeah, cause you didn’t want to come with me back in college because of your business major. The same one you switched out of,”

“Okay, now that’s just unfair!” Sebastian abruptly sits up, pushing you off of him, “It’s not my fault the damn class was boring!”

He pinches your cheek and pulls on it, causing you to wince, “You didn’t even end up going anyway because of your own classes!” He adds.

“Oww! Hey!”

He lets go of you and lays back down, facing you. He closed his eyes for a moment before sighing, “Sooo… Where’s this aquarium?”

You smiled and reached for your phone to check the location. Hopefully that window to go is somewhere in your lives as there’s time and money to worry about. It was a bit expensive and a little far. One day, and maybe if there’s another opportunity, you could invite his brother and sister to come along. You don’t see them much anyway so that could be a great opportunity.

Once you were done talking about it, you put your phone back where it was. You were about to close your eyes, but Sebastian still has something to say.

“It’s funny that you brought up the aquarium, actually. My dream had to do with the ocean,”

You looked at him, “Really?”

“Yeah, it was cold, dark… I don’t remember it hurting. I don’t think I was drowning either,”

“Woahh… That’s kinda cool,” you reached your hand over and started playing with his hair, “Kinda makes me want to go diving now,”

“What’s with you and your sudden interest in the ocean?”

“When you think about it, there’s a bunch of stuff down there we haven’t discovered yet because we don’t have what it takes to go further down. It’d be so cool to see and learn about it. Of course, I’d be happy to see a sea turtle and maybe swim with one,”

“Kinda sounds like you love fish more than me,” he scoffs.

“Not true!” You then paused for a moment, totally not thinking about it, “But if you were a fish, I’d still love you,”

“How reassuring,” the sarcasm in his voice is clear.

You pouted, “Shush. It’s because I’ll know it’s you. Now let me braid your hair until I’m too sleepy,”

He lets out a sigh as he moves closer, “Fine,”

Sebastian ended up falling asleep rather quickly as you worked, and you didn’t take too long to fall asleep afterwards.

Your eyes snapped open with a gasp. You feel cold. You’re not sure what it was, but you remember seeing a dark creature with multiple white eyes staring at you through a locker. It was ramming into the door, trying to get you out. It had human teeth and its face looked like it was melting. That was the last thing you remember as the locker doors finally gave out and you couldn’t hold it shut anymore.

Your heart was pounding against your chest. You feel something move underneath you and quickly remember where you were and who you were with. You pushed yourself to sit up and looked at Sebastian who was still asleep. His tail had coiled around you, almost acting like a bed if it weren’t for the scales. You’re reminded of the current situation you’re stuck in and it doesn’t help to calm your heart. You’re still stuck in this abandoned facility with no way out unless you leave his hideout to retrieve the crystal like Urbanshade requested.

You sighed, lying back down and facing him this time. Your hand reached over to move some of his hair away from his face so that his third eye is visible to you. Perhaps playing with his hair to get you to fall asleep was more of a habit now. You nudged yourself a bit closer to him and started to make a small braid.

Sebastian had quickly woken up due to feeling something gently tugging on his hair, but seeing you so focused, he stayed quiet and watched you. Part of him wanted to know just how long it’ll take for you to notice him watching you. You were being careful as you weren’t aware he wasn’t already awake.

He’s become such a light sleeper ever since his stay here. The smallest noise and movement could wake him up, but it was like a lifesaver as the dangers persisted. It didn’t help that Urbanshade is going to kill him without hesitation the moment they see him.

Your hands are shaking and you’re struggling more than usual. It might be because you’re still shaken up by your nightmare of getting killed mixed with the problem you’re currently in, but it did feel a little too real. It felt like you used all of your strength to hold the locker closed. You can’t exactly feel your legs either, like that was the first thing that monster had consumed. The image of it was still in your head. A million eyes staring at you through the locker from inside its mouth, its face seemingly melting away and the scream it let out once it grabbed you.

Your hands stopped, the shaking becoming more evident. A blue scaled hand takes hold of your small hands. You blinked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and looked at Sebastian.

“O-Oh, uh…” your voice trembled, “How long were you awake?”

“Long enough,” he says, “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

You looked down and tried to pull your hands out of his, but he only held tighter, “Just a nightmare…”

“Well, whatever it was certainly frightened you to this extent. What was it about?”

“I was still here, somewhere in this facility. The lights flickered and I heard a distant voice getting louder, and then it suddenly screamed as it saw me entering a locker,” he lets go of your hands at this point, “It kept ramming into it, trying to open it or knock me out of it. When it finally managed to open it, its face looked so… disturbing. There were so many eyes in its mouth, a-and…”

You’re not sure how to describe it, or maybe the memory of the nightmare is fading at this very moment. But you still feel it.

He props himself up on one of his hands, using his extra limb to pull you closer, “Ohhh, you had a dream about that thing? Yeahh, dying to that isn’t really pleasant. Won’t get into the details, you probably get the idea of it anyway considering what you’ve seen,”

You say nothing in response to that. Is that what the last person you were with felt? You can’t imagine just how painful it would’ve been had it spotted you inside the other room. All that was left was the beat up locker and a pool of blood. You don’t remember hearing them scream either, but perhaps it was drowned out by the sound of the monster. You didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Sebastian lays back down so you can continue with what you were doing, but instead, he feels your hands come back to his and gently holds it. He watches you for a bit, trying to figure out what you’re trying to do now. You traced your fingers against the scales, almost fascinated by it. You were being oh so gentle with him.

“Y’know, any sane person would be cautious whenever they see a tall fish with the features of an angler fish and razor sharp teeth,” he suddenly comments, “But you? Didn’t anyone ever tell you curiosity kills the cat?”

“It’s because I know it’s you, Sebastian,” you held his hand tighter, “Just because you look like this now doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Does it make me upset knowing why now? Of course I’m upset…and angry, too. Had it been me instead, I think I would’ve done the same after everything they did. You must’ve been in so much pain too,”

He doesn’t respond to that and only stares at you. You didn’t seem to mind as you eventually move on to compare your hand sizes, and his is significantly larger. When he was still just a human, your hand sizes weren’t all that different. Now, he can hold both of your hands in one of his. He could crush your head if he so wanted to.

You sighed, continuing, “The day they gave you the death penalty, I… I think I gave up. I knew I was going to lose you so maybe in a sense, I died too. There were so many days and nights where I struggled to even get up and struggled to even go back to sleep. Every single morning was just a painful reminder for me that I wouldn’t be seeing you again,”

You gave up. A part of you had already died.

“I guess this “job” was just another way of me not having to wake up anymore. It’s silly, I know… But isn’t it kind of funny? I came here because I thought this could be my chance to see you again in death, and here you are. You’re still alive, and that’s all I cared about,” you smiled, “Maybe a little different, but… Still alive, and still you,”

His eyes widened slightly. That stupid line again. Sebastian looks away with a hiss and you can feel his tail shift beneath you.

“Go back to sleep, [name],” he sighs, “You’re gonna need the rest,”

By the way, I am aware Sebastian isn’t THAT big when you take away the tail part, but look…

Big hand… Also there was this post that I found while making this so

Also not really proud of this one but oh well

[iiping]

kaveh snapping at alhaitham for buying another ugly wood carving… except he forgot it was his birthday 👀

read my short fic on twitter here or see more below! 🫶

—

“This looks absolutely nothing like me!” Kaveh snaps at the rough-out Aranara carving that suddenly shows up one morning, looking so blonde and angry.

Alhaitham comes out of his room at this moment and walks over to their common shelf where the architect stands.

Kaveh has a meeting with a particularly frustrating client today and he’s feeling so anxious that he cannot help but snaps at Alhaitham too, “How many times do I have to tell you not to bring ugly wood carvings into our home!?”

Alhaitham looks at Kaveh, his lips tightens. Something unfathomable flashes across his eyes and disappears just as suddenly.

“Do whatever you want with it then,” Alhaitham says finally after an awkward silence. Then he grabs his key from the shelf and turns his back to walk towards the front door without saying another word.

Kaveh looks at him leaving the house in puzzlement. It is not a rare occasion to see the Scribe not bothering to argue with him but Alhaitham never walks away after saying only one sentence before. He looks as if he’s angry or even…pouting? Kaveh is not sure if that word can describe Alhaitham.

Maybe Kaveh did something wrong? He gasps at the thought.

Is it because the smell of the cream soup he made yesterday was too strong? Or maybe it was the fact that the house is now so messy because he’s in the middle of tidying up things? Or maybe he moved or touched some books he wasn’t supposed to?

Kaveh ends up thinking for the whole day. He even spaces out during the client’s meeting and almost drops the model when he tries to present his plan.

He thinks and thinks but nothing comes to his mind. They have been on unusually pretty good terms lately, so he cannot think of something recent that might have made Alhaitham upset.

Kaveh is so deep in thought he almost bumps into Collei on the way home.

“Ah! Sorry!” Kaveh exclaims then realizes who it is, “Collei! I didn’t know you were in town today!”

Somehow, the trainee Forest Ranger looks shocked to see him. She quickly picks up something that fell to the ground when they bumped into each other earlier. Kaveh catches a glimpse of a small green box with yellow ribbon before Collei swiftly hides it behind her back.

“It’s so good to see you! Wanna grab something to eat?” Kaveh asks, ignoring her suspicious behavior. He’s not ready to go home just yet, not when he still hasn’t figured out what he did wrong.

“Uh, sorry I have somewhere to be today,” Collei replies nervously, avoiding to meeting his eyes, “If you will excuse me, I really need to get going.”

Then she takes off before he can say another word.

Kaveh ruffles his hair in confusion. What is going on today?

After wandering around aimlessly for a while, he decides that he has no other place to go except the good old Lambad’s Tavern.

He sits down at a table and orders a drink even though it’s merely 5PM.

“Hey, Kaveh!” Lambad shouts his name from behind the counter, “That one’s on the house! Happy Birthday!”

Oh. Shit.

A realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

“How could I forget!” he cries, standing up abruptly, “It is my birthday!”

He tells Lambad that he’ll take a raincheck on that glass of wine before leaving the tavern. Kaveh rushes home as fast as he can and finds Alhaitham standing in front of the shelf with the Aranara carving on one hand and a bag on another.

Alhaitham raises his eyebrows when he sees Kaveh practically flying from the front door.

“No, wait—-“ Kaveh tries to catch his breath, “D-don’t throw that away!”

“Oh?” Alhaitham puts down the Aranara and turns to face the architect. “Seems like you finally remember something.”

“Sorry for what I said this morning,” Kaveh blurts out, “I know it sounds like an excuse but that client’s project kept me frustrated all night and I shouldn’t have taken it on you.”

Alhaitham looks at him silently.

“Alright, alright,” Kaveh puts two hands in the air, “I apologize for calling it ugly.”

The Scribe lets out a chuckle right this second. It is clear that he does not intend put up any fights with Kaveh on his birthday.

Alhaitham hands him the Aranara in question and asks, “Will you also stop calling my other wood carvings ugly?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kaveh replies with a beaming smile. His eyes light up as he takes the wooden figure in his hands.

Alhaitham gives him birthday presents every year but they are usually books or drafting tools. This is the first time Kaveh has received something custom-made. Well, from anyone, really.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me this morning,” he mumbles, feeling the rough wood under his fingers. “Sure, it looks a bit cruder than that one in your bedroom which I kind of like, but the more you look at it, the mor—- Hey!”

“I changed my mind,” Alhaitham announces with a straight face, the Aranara is now back to his hand. “I’m taking it back.”

Kaveh blinks.

“What did you just say!?” he raises his voice.

“I don’t see any reasons why it should be in the possession of someone who doesn’t appreciate it,” he replies simply while putting the wooden figure in the bag, then starts to walk to the entrance hall.

“How do you know I don’t appreciate it!?” Kaveh follows him, trying so hard not to yell at his back, “This is ridiculous! You just gave it to me literally a second ago!”

That does not make Alhaitham slow down one bit. In the heat of the moment, Kaveh charges at him without thinking.

Next thing he knows, they are both on the floor with Alhaitham being beneath him. He quickly snatches the bag from the Scribe’s hand and sits up.

“Ha!” Kaveh exclaims, raising it in the air in victory. “You cannot walk away from me this time! Don’t you know that it’s rude to take back what you have given!?”

When there isn’t any response, Kaveh glances down, only to see that Alhaitham is covering his face laughing.

Kaveh looks at this scene in disbelief.

“Were you just teasing me!?” he asks with a high-pitched voice, “Oh my god, who are you? What have you done to my Alhaitham?”

“I couldn’t help,” he is still laughing, “You should’ve seen your face.”

It’s extremely rare for Kaveh to see a silly side of Alhaitham, let alone seeing him laughing like this. Kaveh stares dazedly at him, completely forgetting why he was mad in the first place.

“You can have the Aranara,” Alhaitham says with a smile, “Will you get off me now? Although I don’t really mind—-”

Kaveh interrupts this sentence with a cough, just realizing what a dangerous position they are in. He shifts to move out of the way, but at this moment, a small piece of paper falls of the bag and lands on Alhaitham’s chest.

The Scribe’s eyes widen as he moves to reach for it, but Kaveh is quicker.

Seeing what’s on there, he is speechless.

Alhaitham covers his face again, but his ears are turning visibly red. The worse thing is, Kaveh can also feel his face burning too.

“You carved this,” he asks softly, “for me?”

After a while, Alhaitham admits with a sigh, “Yes.”

Kaveh is dumbfounded. He assumed that it was merely a commission. Never has he ever thought Alhaitham would go that far to do something like this for him.

“That’s why you’ve been coming home late for the past week!” Kaveh just remembers how unusual it was when he said that he needed to work overtime.

“You knowing this wasn’t part of the plan, I was too careless.” he says flatly and decides to pull himself up, unintentionally getting closer to Kaveh. “Now it’s good time for you to forget you have seen that workshop receipt.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kaveh pokes his chest, “This Aranara is now worth a million mora to me.”

“You have just burdened yourself with a new enormous debt then” Alhaitham teases.

“Hey!”

“I think wood craving has grown on me.” Alhaitham smiles, “So I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with these ugly figurines for now.”

“Come on, they are not that ugly,” Kaveh chuckles, “But we do need to set up a proper corner for them so they don’t disrupt the current aesthetic.”

The Scribe can’t help but roll his eyes at this comment.

“Seriously though, thank you” Kaveh softly touches his shoulder and looks directly into his eyes, “It’s the first time someone did something so special for me. I will always treasure it.”

The Scribe stares back at him and without a warning, Alhaitham pulls him into his arms and whispers to his hair, “Happy Birthday, Kaveh.”

After that, Collei, along with Cyno and Tighnari, burst open their front door right when they are still hugging in the hallway. Kaveh’s face turns as red as a tomato as Alhaitham helps him up on his feet.

The night cannot be more perfect. The house is filled with the smell of good food, laughers and joy. His most favorite dishes are laid out on the table and the gifts are waiting for him to open. Wine never tastes better and even Cyno’s jokes are funnier than usual.

Kaveh watches as everyone starts to eat and cheerfully discuss about what games they are going to play tonight. His heart aches a bit thinking of how much he does not want to ever lose this; his friends, his happiness, his home.

And when his eyes accidentally meet with Alhaitham’s, he cannot help but wonder, would things turn out differently if he hadn’t met the Scribe at the tavern that night where he had taken Kaveh in?

He tries harder now to stay happy, to actually listen to some of Alhaitham’s advice, the sensible ones at least.

“Don’t burden yourself with something unnecessary from the past and from the future”, he would say.

So instead of dwelling on the past regrets and unknown future, Kaveh thinks he is ready now to find comfort in the present happiness.

(END)

[bellatrixscurls]

two ghosts | part 1

pov : lily rejects james many times, until he finally gives up. but y/n and sirius are there for him, in more ways than one.

warnings : smut (next part), mentions of ex!bully!james, fluff (it probably sucks cus i only know how to write smut), sub jamie if you squint, pet names, established relationship between reader and sirius. please lmk if there are more! <3

part two

“I’m telling you, sweetheart. It’s nothing your pretty cunt can’t fix” Sirius winks at you, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth, causing you to roll your eyes. He obviously notices, as he is sat across from you, and smirks.

Remus is eyeing you both suspiciously, and clears his throat. “I can think of more situations you,” he looks at you and you blush slightly in embarrassment, “cannot fix. So what is it now?”

Sirius giggles like a little kid, and you shake your head, your cheeks way too red by now. “I think Prongs needs some.. relief. Poor thing is so crabby these days, and it’s all because of that stupid mudblood.”

“Sirius!” you shriek, kicking his foot under the table. “Okay, alright! I was just looking for something bad to say about her.”

Remus rolls his eyes and Peter places his fork down, blue eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly interested. “What do you mean by relief? I mean, he’s been refusing to tell me what’s wrong and yes, he is acting a bit strange, but I can’t think of anything that could help him. Unless you want to get him a date with Evans, which is not an option.”

Peter’s speech leaves all of you speechless. You’ve looked at the situation as more of a joke, not realising how sweet Jamie turned to grumpy, fussy James. “I mean, not that I would want to get him a date with that one” Sirius scoffs, his hands raising in surrender as you and Remus glare at him.

“And why would that be, Sirius?” you find it’s your turn to tease him, to which he scoffs again, giving you an wide-eyed look when he spots James approaching the ton of you.

His head is a mess of curls that bounce furiously as he walks messily, his eyes are bigger than usual and his face seems to scream ‘I’m tired!’. His clothes, surprisingly, are not wrinkled. Well, it’s a surprise to anyone but you, cus you are the one who prepared them for him the night before.

“Morning” his voice is thick with sleep, barely gazing at you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side only for a few seconds. “Thank you for taking care of me” he says softly, obviously referring to his robe, shirt and trousers.

Your eyebrows shoot up, clearly surprised by the little gesture, and the guys seem to be as surprised, if not more than you are. “No bother, Jamie.”

The atmosphere in the common room is tense, and you all can sense it. Even James.

“You can talk to me, you know” he scoffs, slightly annoyed as he looks up for merely a second, eyeing Sirius, and his face somehow softens.

Sirius looks at him sadly. “We are worried about you, we don’t want you to lose yourself just because some red-headed chick doesn’t want you.”

And then, you all know that he screwed up.

James stands up abruptly, and looks down at Sirius, his usually gentle blue eyes now a few shades darker. “She’s not- You don’t know what it feels like, Sirius” he calls him by his first name, not Pads, and not Siri, and you can see Sirius’ face soften and his bottom lip jutting out just slightly. “You’ve found Y/n a long time ago, and even before you didn’t have a problem with girls ever refusing you. You don’t know how it feels.”

You all fall silent, your hand coming up to gently rub at his back, his head leaning into your neck as he nuzzles against your skin. “We just want our Jamie back, honey. I promise you so many other people in this school want you for you.”

“You promise?” he looks at you with those doe eyes that always make you melt.

“I do. And maybe it’s best that you didn’t get with Lily, who knows what would’ve happened. I promise there is someone there for you.”

By the end of your speech, you can only hear James hum softly as you continue to rub his back. A few minutes pass by, and Remus whispers to you, letting you know that James is sleeping. And so you sit more comfortably against the sofa, allowing yourself to rest for a little bit as well.

♥︎

Shifting pulls you from your deep slumber only a few hours later, and you find your arms empty, no trace of James anywhere. You sigh softly as you move to stand up, taking the blanket, that you were not aware was there, with you.

“Sweetheart, you’re awake” Sirius beams when you stand up, and you almost have a heart attack when you hear his voice, being pulled away from your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, lazily dragging yourself and finally throwing yourself into his arms, the boy taking that as a sign to sit down, with you still in his arms. “I missed you” you smile into his chest, engulfed by his intoxicating scent. He smells like he always does, but to you, it’s much more than that.

“Me too, sweetheart” he kisses your forehead, his eyes closing and so do yours.

But little do you know, James is watching the two of you the entire time, and his heart drops and swells at the same time. He wants that, but he is glad that his best friends have it.

♥︎

The next day, you walk with Sirius, hand in hand, towards your Herbology class. He is telling you about his new partner in partner in Potions when you spot James leaning against the wall, talking to Lily.

“Siri, he’s doing it again” you pout, looking up at your boyfriend as he looks in their direction, his eyes darkening at the sight.

“Oh fuck” he swears under his breath, and you frown. “I can’t hear him cry for the entire night again, breaks my heart” he gulps and you brush your hand against his cheek gently, making him look st you.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe he is okay now” you try to reason with him and he seems to soften for a moment, not long though, cus James is messily walking away from Lily, his eyes red and lips puffy. You look back at him, his eyes not once leaving yours as he walks away, heading towards the Gryffindor Tower.

“Yeah, he seems pretty content” Sirius scoffs to himself, running one of his hands through his hair as the other holds your waist.

“Bring him to my dorm” you tell him, your eyes widening before you continue. “I- I mean, both of you. We can take care of him, make sure he doesn’t feel alone and maybe forgets what happened for the night.”

Sirius looks at you like you are his Moon, the one who always brightens his path when it gets dark. I mean, he’s told you that before.

“You are a genius!”

♥︎

After classes, you went to find James, but found him in the worst situation you thought possible.

He is with Lily. Meanwhile the red-head is reading her book on the sofa, James is knelt in front of her, gently tugging at her delicate arm, but she pays him no mind. “Lily, I just- please, just a date, just one” he whispers softly, not wanting to disturb her more than he already does.

She rolls her eyes, and sighs. “James, I don’t know how many times to tell you that I’m not interested” she says sadly, and you can see his bottom lip quivering. “I don’t.. you were mean to my friends, James. Mean to me. For a very long time, and even though it was long before you liked me, I can’t” she finally confesses, cupping his cheek with her palm.

Your eyes widen and so do James’.

He lets out a soft ‘oh’ and quickly wipes his tears, baby blue eyes blinking in shock. He didn’t know.

“Oh okay... Okay then, that’s fine” he nods frantically, slowly standing up from his knees and brushing his hands over his robe. “I’m sorry, Lily” you see him pout slightly before he practically runs away.

You wait until Lily stands up and finally follow James upstairs, not wanting to make it seen like you were eavesdropping. You were, but.

Knocking gently on the door, you are met with a muffled and small ‘yes?’

“Jamie, it’s Y/n” you lean your head against the door, your eyes closing as you listen to the shuffling in the room.

Moments later, he opens the door and your shoulders drop when you see his state. He hasn’t been himself for weeks now, but he has never looked this way until now. He looks a mess, and his bed is the same.

“Darling” you frown slightly, not touching him because you don’t know if that’s okay yet. “D’you wanna go to my dorm? You can stay with me tonight, Siri will be there too.”

You try to soothe him, explaining that you will listen to him as much as he needs, but when he hears ‘your dorm’ and ‘Siri’, his ears perk up and he starts nodding fervently, grabbing his blanket and shutting the door behind him.

You give him a small smile before you guide him to your dorm, where your boyfriend is waiting for you. He probably doesn’t expect you to manage to get James to come, so his eyes widen a little bit when he sees him, but he clears his throat and stands up from your couch, greeting you. Sirius’ arms snake around your waist as he gives you a sweet peck on the lips, before he moves to James.

The bespectacled boy’s back is glued to the door, sitting there timidly as he tries not to look at you both, but he fails miserably. “Hi there, Prongsie” Sirius teases him and James smiles a genuine smile, his eyes closing as Sirius brings him into his arms, the long-haired’s boy scent just as intoxicating as it is to you.

“Do you want to talk to us, babe? Tell us what happened?” you quip as you take James’ hand in yours and you usher him to sit on your perfectly made bed, the sheets soft beneath him.

He looks up at you, then at Sirius, and sighs softly. “I used to be a bully” he confesses, as if it is a secret, “And ‘s why she doesn’t like me... Lily.”

Sirius’ grimace is more than present on his face. He remembers those times, up until third year, when he met you. You’ve changed him, and them, for that matter. James has always been a sweet boy, but he used to think that he was superior to the others. Not now, though.

“That was way too long ago, though. We were kids” Sirius whispers defeatedly, he knows that’s not an excuse.

“I was terrible” James says and a sob catches in his throat. Your heart almost breaks and then you understand what Sirius meant when he said that James crying made his own heart break. “I regret that, I don’t want to ever do that again.”

You pout, inching your hand closer to his as you slowly caress it, your eyes moving from him to your boyfriend. “It’s been age, Jamie” Sirius speaks softly, “you have changed, that’s not you anymore. Sure, you cannot erase your past, but you cannot let it define you either. That’s. not. you.”

James looks up at him with hope, and Sirius grins widely. “Look at you, you are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. So pretty as well” Sirius’ tatted hand cups James’ soft, pale cheek and the younger boy melts against his skin. “Yeah?” he breathes, batting his eyelashes at Sirius, who nods proudly.

But when Sirius notices that James’ hand is moving up his thigh, he removes his hand from his hand from his cheek and stands up, walking towards a smaller chest of drawers, where you keep his clean clothes for when he comes over.

James’ breath hitches and tears start pooling at his eyes. He tries to be quiet, but you are still beside him and hear it. “What is it, sweet boy?” you ask, frowning.

He just shakes his head, burying his face into your soft pillow. “M sorry” he sobs, his tears most definitely soaking your pillow.

“Sorry?” you ask and he hums, still not looking at you. “Tried to touch Siri” he admits, “you have.. you’ve just been so good to me, I-”

“Oh, love, I’m not upset with you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to touch Siri?” you joke and he giggles softly, lifting his head from the pillow.

“Okay I’m back and I got you my shirt and this pair of boxers, I hope they fit you- Hey, why are you crying?”

─

next part will probably be just a little bit of fluff and smut, but i thought i’d share this little thought with you guys. i will write the other fic ideas soon, please bear with me <3.

[writtenwhalien]

jump then fall (into you) | part 2

banner by the talented @jimilter​ 💖

pairing ↠ jungkook x reader

genre ↠ cruise AU, fake dating AU, best friends to lovers AU | fluff, angst, smut

word count ↠ 52k (pt 2. 14k)

18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, drinking, sexual content: foreplay, oral m. and f., protected sex etc.

summary ↠ bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

note. i hope you're enjoying! ☺️ don't forget to interact please + here's a few songs that inspired me and this story (more at the end too!): photograph — ed sheeran i think i fell in love today — kelsea bellerini where are you now — lost frequencies & calum scott 3:15 (breathe) — russ words — alesso & zara larsson jump then fall — taylor swift

part 2

🍉 note. while I have your attention, I would like to divert it to those in palestine as israel commits war crimes against them. Innocent men, women and children are being tortured, degraded, displaced and murdered endlessly — it is a genocide and we are all complicit if we do nothing.

as a minimum, please donate to legitimate organisations + boycott the big 3 — starbucks, disney and mcdonald’s — as well as others. feel free to message me for more information and/or donation links, thank you <3 🇵🇸

You know what he wants you to say, but as you feel his fingers around yo, all you can think of is how wrong they feel — they’re not as long as the ones you’re most familiar with, not as calloused on the palms  or soft from the back. Every moment with Jungkook from the past few weeks buzzes through your mind and it all starts to make sense – you’ve always known Jungkook makes you happy but you never thought about why…

Looking up at Lawrence, you nod slowly. “Yes,” you say, softening the words in the hopes it softens the blow.

It’s a quiet confession, not only because you’re pretending to date Jungkook, but because now you’re no longer sure if your heart is open to anyone else besides him.

Lawrence smiles, releasing a small breath he’d been holding. “I had to ask,” he chuckles.

You’re sure his cheeks are turning pink but with the dim lighting, you can’t be sure. 

Lips pursing, you nod.

There’s another moment of hesitation from him, then he kisses your cheek once before stepping back. 

“I’m glad I asked though, I’d probably regret it forever if I didn’t,” he adds, eyes gleaming as they look over your face. 

You manage to smile despite feeling bad and a little awkward now — it’s not every day someone confesses to your face like this. “It’s okay, I get it.” 

Just while your mind races to find an excuse to leave now, Lawrence’s gaze shifts to behind your shoulder and his eyes suddenly widen, face going somewhat pale. You turn around, eyes following his line of sight and when you see who’s standing there, you’re sure your expression mirrors Lawrence’s. 

Jungkook and Alias stand more than a few feet away by the staircase towards the upper decks, but it’s not hard to see their expressions from here. 

Alias purses his lips and looks at Jungkook before he shifts his weight awkwardly. But it’s Jungkook you’re focused on. His expression is blank and he just stares at Lawrence and you.

How long has he been standing there? Why isn’t he doing anything? And why do you only now realise how close you and Lawrence are still standing while holding hands too? 

You let go, stepping back abruptly too but you know it doesn’t make a difference. 

Jungkook's lips curl into a curt yet polite smile before he turns and disappears around the corner. 

What the hell is happening? 

Jungkook and you aren’t even dating for real for this to be a problem so why on earth does it feel like you’ve actually done something so wrong?

The guilty feeling in your chest grows as you stand still, still looking upon where he was.

“I’m so sorry,” Lawrence apologises immediately. “I can go talk to him, it was all my fault.”

“No it’s fine,” you shake your head, managing a smile. “I should talk to him, don’t worry.” 

He nods and you walk away before he can say anything else.

“Walk with me?” you say as you approach Alias. 

He nods, falling into stride beside you. “What was that about?” he asks, nodding back in the direction of Lawrence.

“Um, he told me he likes me, or at least did,” you wince. 

“Ah, that explains it.”

You shoot him a look. “That explains what?”

Alias hesitates. “Well, he looked like he was about to kiss you.”

Oh gosh. “But he wasn’t!” you exclaim in a hushed whisper. “I wouldn’t do that!” 

“I know!” Alias exclaims too, “But it still didn’t look good. I’m assuming that’s why Jungkook just left.”

“You think he’s upset by it?”

“Well what else could it be?”

Sighing, you slow down. 

Alias looks at you confused. “What’s wrong?”

“What am I doing?” you ask rhetorically, thinking out loud.

Raising his brows, Alias points down the corridor. “Finding your boyfriend to explain what’s happening?” he says almost sarcastically. 

“But that’s just it, he’s not actually my boyfriend so why did he walk off? And why do I feel bad about it?” You feel like you sound a bit helpless but at this moment you don’t actually care, at least not with Alias. 

It’s confusing — first you find yourself having all these weird moments with Jungkook, then Lawrence tells you he likes you only for you to realise that maybe you actually do like Jungkook, and now Jungkook walking off like this…

Could he actually be upset by this?

Alias’s expression softens and he places his hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. “I think you know why.”

You frown, lips pouting. “What are you trying to say?”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a hug. “I’m not saying anything. You’re figuring this out on your own.” He pulls back and takes your arm in his as he walks slowly down the corridor again. “Now, what are you going to say to Jungkook?”

His question is met with silence, but he doesn’t push any further as you take the time to think. 

You’re well aware of what Alias is trying to say to you but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to acknowledge it — more like you don’t know how to acknowledge it. 

Maybe you do like him? Or maybe you’re just confused? It could definitely just be lust, or even just loneliness as it has been a long time since you’ve last been with anyone. Or maybe all the pretending has gotten to your head? — that’s definitely a plausible reason for the way you’re feeling. 

Although, it really doesn’t feel like it. There’s a reason pretending to date Jungkook comes so easily to you. Being with him is natural to you because you’ve always felt like you belong together; now you realise you’ve been feeling that romantically not just platonically. Having been so close to him for so many years has created a safety blanket around you, one that you can’t imagine living without and most definitely can’t ever replace. Even the thought of coming on this trip without him felt so wrong. There must be a reason why it doesn’t feel surprising to you that at some point, your feelings crossed the line from friends to something more.

“I don’t know,” you groan quietly. “This is so weird, what does someone say in this situation?”

Alias actually takes a moment to consider this. “Actually,” he starts, pulling on your arm to stop walking. “You need to be sure of how you feel before you say anything.”

He’s right.

“Take some time,” Alias says. “Maybe just address what happened with Lawrence for now?”

You nod. “Okay, I’ll just tell him what happened.”

“Yeah, do that,” Alias nods too. He looks down the corridor but makes no move to walk any further with you. 

Your cabin is only a few doors away so you hug him goodbye, and after he wishes you good luck, you make your way towards it.

Clearing your mind, you focus on the simple goal for now. Just let Jungkook know that there’s nothing between Lawrence and you — what he saw isn’t what it looked like. 

Tapping into your room, you feel your heart race a little faster as your nerves rise. Jungkook isn’t anywhere in the cabin but you can hear water running in the bathroom. 

Taking a deep breath, you mentally scold yourself to get it together. Some of your clothes from earlier in the day are still scattered on the bed so you decide to at least clear these away while you wait. 

It isn’t long until you hear the lock clicking and Jungkook walks out of the bathroom. 

You look up to see him patting his face dry with a towel. He’s already dressed for bed and you note that he’s wearing a top this time. 

When he sees you, his face shows no surprise or even much emotion at all. He simply nods and averts his gaze almost immediately. “Hey,” he says, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. 

“Hey,” you respond quietly while keeping your eyes on him. 

He walks over to the bed and starts picking up some of his own mess. If the situation were any different, you wouldn’t really think anything was wrong by the way Jungkook is acting. But you know Jungkook. 

For starters, he never folds his clothes neatly before putting them away. He usually just roughly puts them together and hides them away somewhere, yet here he is, laying out a shirt and folding the sleeves with much focus.

“Um, Jungkook…?”

He looks up immediately. “Yeah?” There’s no irritation or anger or anything else in his expression. Just the usual concern you’re used to seeing on his face whenever you call him. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, feeling stupid as soon as you ask it. 

“Yeah, of course,” he answers, shrugging as he resumes folding his clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good.”

Turning away to put your clothes in the drawer, you frown to yourself. You know he knows why you’re asking — him walking off like that wasn’t normal and now him acting like nothing’s happened…

“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “You and Lawrence…”

There it is. You turn to face him again. He’s still looking down as he folds his clothes but you don’t need to see his face to know he’s not looking forward to the answer. 

“You like each other?” His voice is steady but you can hear the quiet reservations that come with it. 

“No,” you answer immediately. 

He pauses for a second and you expect him to say something, but he doesn’t. He only nods and carries on putting his clothes away. 

You tell him everything. “We bumped into each other during the game because I was kind of confused about where to go after me and you split up. We just started talking and it came up that I used to have a crush on him way back in high school, and as we spoke…” you watch Jungkook carefully, still unable to see his face as he stays looking down, “… he just ended up telling me how he used to have a crush on me when we were growing up and it apparently never really went away.” 

It’s now that Jungkook finally looks up. He has a small smile on his face — not a smirk, not anything to show you it’s anything other than a genuine smile despite it not being his usual smile that meets his eyes.

“So Lawrence likes you then.” He says it more surely, as though he’s just reaffirming a fact rather than asking a question. 

You hesitate. “Well, yes, he does but he knows I don’t like him.”

As his smile fades a little, Jungkook raises a brow. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you say, feeling something heavy begin to weigh down your chest. 

Jungkook considers this. His gaze is steady as he looks at you from across the room, looking for any clue that might suggest otherwise to him. 

The longer he stares, the more you feel the weight on your chest. You don’t like this — you don’t like that Jungkook could even think for a minute that you like anyone else. Since high school, you haven’t had any real feelings for anyone and as Lawrence made you realise, it’s all because of Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” your voice comes out coarse and quiet. 

He looks away, jaw shifting as he now chooses to roughly fold his clothes together. Then — 

“I think we should stop the whole dating thing, it was my fault so I’ll tell whoever I need to tomorrow.” He says it clearly and decisively. “I don’t wanna hold you back, you should give Lawrence a chance.”

With a scoff, your brows knit together and you frown at him. “I just told you, I don’t like him.” 

“He was your high school crush for years, you’ve always wanted this.”

He says it so nonchalantly now and it makes you angry because you know just moments ago he was upset because of this. Sure, he didn’t say anything, but Jungkook is your best friend and you know him more than anyone else. 

“Well not anymore!” you blurt. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Jungkook looks at you and immediately you can recognise the small signs of him feeling hurt but he does well to disguise it as best as he can. “I saw how you looked at him that night, Y/N. It was pretty clear how smitten you were, anyone could see it.”

Immediately, you’re confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Cartagena,” he responds, almost despondent. “You came out of the venue together and it was clear from your face that you were over the moon to have him there.”

Now you remember… and devastatingly enough, you realise Jungkook isn’t wrong. You remember how you felt when you initially bumped into him — it was a childish kind of excitement when seeing your crush but that’s all it was. Seeing him just brought back memories and that small part of you came out because it had been so long but since then you know there’s been nothing. 

Jungkook, however, wouldn’t know that. You realise that you must’ve looked how he’s describing and gosh, you can’t even imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed. 

Before you can ever try to find the words to explain how you feel, a knock sounds at the door. 

Jungkook is the one who answers it since you’re still too caught up in your thoughts. 

You even remember how you’d stupidly been flirting with him right in front of Jungkook, you pretty much called him ‘tall, handsome and mysterious’ when you were supposed to be “dating” Jungkook– 

“Lawrence.”

You turn immediately at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. Sure enough, Lawrence is standing there in the doorway looking exactly as he was when you left him. 

“Uh, hey,” he says, nodding awkwardly as he glances between Jungkook and you. 

You just stare at him blankly. This really doesn’t help you right now. 

“Hey,” Jungkook says with a smile, resorting to his usual politeness. “What’s up?”

Lawrence hesitates, still glancing between you both. “Sorry, I was thinking about whether or not I should come but I figured the sooner the better… uh…” he looks down, clearly feeling bad. “I just had to apologise, I told Y/N about how I felt and that was inappropriate and stupid of me when she’s with y—“

“We’re not together.”

Lawrence looks up and at the same time, your eyes snap to Jungkook. 

If you thought him saying that was harsh, the blank way in which he says it hurts even more. 

“We never were,” Jungkook says. “Y/N just agreed to help me out by pretending to be my girlfriend because my ex is on this trip.” 

Lawrence’s face changes from confusion to surprise to realisation within a few seconds. But you’re not looking at him. 

Your focus is solely on Jungkook. You can’t clearly describe what emotions you’re feeling. There’s a bit of everything — it hurts, that’s for sure, but you’re also angry at him for so rashly telling Lawrence and you can’t help but feel betrayed. 

Pretending to date Jungkook has been nothing but easy for you and these past few days have taught you it’s because there’s probably a huge part of you that wants this. For Jungkook to just end it so suddenly makes you feel like he doesn’t want you the same way you want him. 

You wonder if it’s naive to think he wants you back, but you do. Alex has told you countless times, heck all the Cirillo siblings have made a remark or something about Jungkook and you at least once every time you’ve met. Even Lawrence has seen it apparently. Though, none of this necessarily means it’s true. 

With the silence in the room, Jungkook looks at you. He holds little emotion in his face but the way his lips are pursed tightly tells you he’s holding back something. 

“Uh,” Lawrence glances between you both, “I’m gonna go. Sorry again for everything,” he adds in a mutter. He closes the door as he leaves and you’re left alone with Jungkook. 

“Why would you do that?” you ask as soon as the door clicks. 

“Because he likes you. I’m not gonna stand in the way of that.”

Your expression falters. Fuck, it’s been a long time since you last wanted to cry but you’ll be damned if you let him see you. Steeling yourself, your jaw clenches.

Despite your best efforts, of course, Jungkook still notices. His own steely expression softens and he almost says something but then stops. For a second, you think he might apologise and even tell you something you want to hear. But he doesn’t. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Jungkook asks softly.

There’s a hundred other things he could do but he chose this — even after you’ve told him how you feel about Lawrence. 

“Fine,” you flare. “Tell everyone.” Without another glance at him, you walk past him to the bathroom and slam the door shut. 

It’s only after a quick shower and some much needed TLC, that you come out of the bathroom. 

Truthfully, you didn’t expect Jungkook to still be in the cabin, but it doesn’t make the feeling in your chest go away when you see he’s not there. 

There’s so many questions going round and round in your head that it hurts. You trudge across the room, slipping into the bed and finding solace with the comfort of your silk sheets that still smell of Jungkook. 

Everything Alex said to you at the start of this trip keeps replaying in your mind — you want it to be true, and sure most of the time it feels true too. But with the way this past hour has gone, you can’t help but doubt it. 

If Jungkook really liked you, he wouldn’t have told Lawrence the truth, would he? It doesn’t make sense, why would he? He should’ve wanted to have kept it up the same way you do. Pretending to date Jungkook is as close as you’re getting to the real thing and that’s something that you’re sure that you want. 

Now though, you don’t even have that. 

It’s not exactly something you can blame Jungkook for. There was no reason for him to keep it up, especially if you haven’t told him why you want to. 

Maybe you should tell him now though?

No. That’s too scary. Sure, you want him to know, but the idea of him not feeling the same way is way worse than anything else. Plus, what if he starts to feel uncomfortable around you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he felt that way. 

Releasing a heavy sigh, you sink further into the bed and close your eyes. 

You shouldn’t say or do anything else until things go back to normal. That’s the best thing to do. 

With your mind made up, you try to fall asleep but it proves to be more difficult than normal. With every minute that passes, you wonder where Jungkook is and what he’s doing. It’s only been 15 minutes but you’re already deciding whether or not you should message him. 

It’s always been like this with Jungkook — your arguments never usually last longer than a day and most times you settle them straight away. 

This feels different. 

The sound of the door clicking open simultaneously relaxes you and raises your heart rate. 

As Jungkook makes his way across the room, your heart decides to do all kinds of acrobatics. Inwardly, you curse at yourself for not realising your feelings sooner. 

You can hear the sound of his shirt being pulled off as he changes into his pyjamas. A moment later, he’s carefully moving the covers back on his side of the bed as he gets in slowly so as not to wake you. 

Moments pass in silence and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then…

“Y/N?” His voice is barely above a whisper and just like that, your heart jumps again. 

Instead of responding, you turn around to lie on your back. As you lower your hands to your side, you accidentally brush his hand. Reflexively, you move your hand to rest on your stomach instead. 

Noticing this, Jungkook turns to look at you. You’re sure he can’t see you very well in the dark but with the white of the ship’s exterior safety lights coming in from the gaps in the shutters, it’s still easy to see fairly well. 

For a brief moment, he doesn’t say anything and you don’t turn to look at him. Then, he looks back up at the ceiling too. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding deflated.

It hurts you to know he’s feeling bad about something that isn’t even his fault. If it wasn’t for the way you’re feeling, you wouldn’t care about him telling Lawrence and you wouldn’t have argued with him for him to be apologising now.

“It’s okay,” you respond quietly, finding it too hard to find the words to say anything else.

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking you, especially since I made you do it in the first place. This whole thing was stupid, I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” you mumble as his last words play over in your head – this whole thing was stupid. “It was Alex.” Does he really think it was stupid? It never felt stupid to you, it just felt right. 

“Yeah, but it’s because of me it happened and I could've stopped it.”

“I didn’t mind…” 

You feel lame saying it because the real reason you didn’t mind is because it was the closest you’d get to dating Jungkook, but you say it because you don’t want him to feel bad about any of it.

“I know,” he says softly in understanding. “I think it’s just best to tell everyone it wasn’t real.”

You haven’t experienced anything like this before – there’s a heavy feeling in your chest trying to fight its way out. It’s causing the lump in your throat and you can’t tell if you want to cry or just tell him the truth right here, right now. 

But you don’t. “Okay,” is all you say.

He must hear something in your voice – he’s attuned to every frequency of yours and the emotion that comes with it, just as you are with him. You know how sad you sounded just then and undoubtedly he’s picked up on it.

He looks at you, trying to analyse your features in the dark. Then, his hand moves and you feel his palm closing around yours, pulling your hand between your bodies to rest on the bed with your fingers intertwined. “Again, I’m sorry.”

You’re looking at him too now. Have his hands always felt this warm? Have they always fit into your own so perfectly? 

“I know, it’s okay,” you answer, still fighting that feeling in your chest.

His brows knit together. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Gently, he squeezes your hand and his features relax.

That feeling in your throat pushes harder and you realise you want to tell him. Maybe it’s because it’s dark right now it seems easier to let the truth out, almost as though it’ll stay a secret in the dark. 

“Also,” he says, voice suddenly softer, “for what it’s worth, I think Lawrence is an amazing guy.”

All other thoughts come to a halt in your mind and you swallow hard. “Why are you saying that?” 

Jungkook looks back up at the ceiling and when he talks, it’s a little quieter than before. “Just, I know how you used to feel about him and if he feels this way about you now, well, it could be good for you,” he adds with a shrug. 

You’re unable to mask the frustration in your voice.  “I already told you,” you say, “I’m not  interested in him.”

Jungkook looks at you again with his brows furrowed in concern. “I know…” he hesitates with a sigh, “I just…” 

“Forget it,” you mutter, pulling your hand free from his. “I’m going to sleep.” 

Jungkook says nothing as you roll over with your back to him, and you say nothing else either. 

The feeling in your chest has subsided but it’s been replaced with another feeling, more like an ache which you’re determined to sleep away. 

It feels almost impossible as your thoughts stream endlessly through your mind, each and every one about Jungkook and the words that you’ve left unsaid. But somehow, at some point, the thoughts slip away as the weariness of the day takes over and you finally fall asleep. 

It’s hot. 

Jungkook pushes you hard against the wall, his thigh parting your legs as he grabs your waist tight. His breaths are heavy as his nose skims your neck, teasing you before he settles in the sweet spot behind your ear. 

You’re just about managing to hold yourself up though if it weren’t for his grip on you, you’re sure your knees would give way. 

There’s barely any material separating you from his thigh and you’re desperate for some friction down there. With your arms around his neck, you rock yourself against him to find some much needed relief. 

You’re moaning and Jungkook chuckles, a sweet deep sound that makes you want more, and he gives it to you as his hand slips between your legs.

Gosh it’s hot.

It is hot. 

That’s the first thing that your barely conscious mind picks up on. 

It’s the middle of summer–you don’t know why you can feel the weight of the blanket on you. You dimly remember getting under it when you got into bed but normally you always stick a leg out or something before going to sleep. 

You try to move your leg now to push it past the covers and out into the cool air, but it doesn’t budge. 

Something is in the way. 

Still half asleep, you try again as you think it’s just the covers tucked under your leg — only now you realise that’s not the cover, it’s another leg and it’s not yours…

You didn’t realise something was missing when you were falling asleep a few hours ago. Why would you? You were completely preoccupied with other things to have remembered it. 

It’s now that you come to your senses and realise what’s happened — you forgot the pillow. 

You forgot the pillow as a physical boundary between Jungkook and you, and now the exact thing you wanted to avoid is happening. 

Jungkook’s warmth surrounds you from everywhere. His breath is gentle and quiet by your neck, his chest close to your back and his legs are somehow tangled with yours. His arm is draped over your frame, hand resting comfortably by your stomach. 

What’s most obvious to you though, is your ass tucked comfortably against him, no doubt right against his crotch. 

Fuck. This is simultaneously a dream and a nightmare. It feels so good to be this close but you know it’s so wrong, especially after the actual dream you just had which given your situation now, explains why you’re still feeling so needy down south. 

You try to shift slightly again but it doesn’t work — Jungkook sighs softly in his sleep, leg moving to rest on top of yours. 

Great. Now you’re actually stuck like this. 

Eyes closing, you try to think of what to do but as you run it through your mind, you come to the conclusion to stay exactly as you are. 

How bad can it be? With the sun shining through the cracks in the blind, you can tell it’s probably 10 am so all you have to do is pretend to fall asleep again, Jungkook will wake up very soon, he’ll realise and then he’ll just move away. Then it’ll be as though nothing ever happened. 

Besides, it really does feel so good to have him holding you like this. Sure, Jungkook hugs you a lot and in general is pretty affectionate with you but this. Having him softly breathing down your neck as he sleeps comfortably with you in his arms — it’s a feeling that satisfies something you never knew you needed. 

The only problem is it’s more than a little difficult to fall asleep when you can feel the hard outline of his little friend down there. Fuck, life is really testing you right now and it really doesn’t help that your pyjama bottoms are silk so you can feel a lot more of him than expected. 

Groaning internally, you try to scoot away once more but it doesn’t work. Not only that, you actually didn’t just groan internally but out loud. You almost clap your hand over your mouth when you feel Jungkook shift behind you once before going still again. 

Except this time, you can’t feel his warm breath on you for a second… then it comes back, but this time it’s different. You’ve spent enough of your lifetime with Jungkook to know that he breathes heavily when he sleeps and right now, he’s no longer asleep. 

You’re not quite sure what comes over you, maybe it’s the heat getting to your head, or maybe you’re emboldened by the fact that Jungkook is awake and he hasn’t moved away from you… ever so slightly, you push your hips back against Jungkook’s crotch. 

A sharp intake of breath from behind you confirms exactly what you wanted to know. 

You do it again and this time, Jungkook reciprocates in kind. You can feel him even better now and the hard outline of his dick pushing against you makes you let out the softest whine, barely audible but with Jungkook so close to you, there’s no doubt he heard you. 

Fuck. You feel almost dizzy and you’re certain that you’re not thinking clearly right now – this is Jungkook, your best friend… you try to remind yourself of that as you wait for him to do something more, but the only thing that repeats in your head is this is Jungkook. Jungkook, the man you love and adore so much and right now you can only think enough to know that whatever is happening right now, you want it. 

With bated breath, you wait for what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, then Jungkook’s hand slides from across your stomach to hold your hip.

“Y/N?” 

His sleepy voice so close sends a swirl of excitement through you. 

“Yes?” you answer in a breathy murmur.

“I…,” he whispers, barely audible. His hand slides up your side, stopping below your breast. 

You can tell he’s hesitating to move further so without hesitation, you roll your hips against him which elicits small moans of pleasure from both of you and in response, Jungkook’s hand begins to move again and you’re anticipating the feeling of his strong hands grabbing on to you where you want them so bad–

Knock knock knock knock knock. “Sleepy heads, what time do you call this?!”

– Only to be interrupted by the one and only Alias. 

Immediately, Jungkook withdraws and moves faster than you can even process. He’s out of bed and throwing on the closest hoodie just as you turn around, still catching on from whatever the hell just happened. Despite the dark lighting in the room, you can tell he’s flustered from the look on his face but goddamn he looks so cute with his messed hair and you could not be more annoyed about being interrupted right now. 

He pauses, turning towards you and just as your eyes meet, there’s the loud knocking again followed by Alias yelling whatever it is he’s saying. 

You’re more focused on how Jungkook is looking at you to comprehend anything else. In this split second, he looks like he has a thousand things to say but not a single thing comes out of his mouth except…

“I’m sorry.” He says it so fast that in the seconds it takes you to realise what he just said, he’s already at the door letting Alias in. 

“You’re not even dressed,” Alias says the second the door opens and he sees Jungkook. “And you’re not even up,” he says as he sees you. Shaking his head, he walks over to the blinds, completely unaware of the tension that is still heavy in the room between Jungkook and you. 

You glance at Jungkook again to see him looking at the floor but it’s as though he can sense your eyes on him because he looks up and your eyes meet for the second time. You’re sure your expression must mirror his – flustered, somewhat guilty, but mostly just confused. 

You know why you’re confused – in the last few days you’ve come to the realisation that your feelings for your best friend are more than just platonic and this happening makes you wonder what the hell Jungkook is thinking… is he feeling the same way as you? God, you can only hope… Or is he repulsed by what he’s just done and is completely regretting it now?

“Honestly, Y/N, I’m actually surprised that I’m up before you,” Alias continues as he rolls up the blinds. “You’re usually the responsible one. And Jungkook, you know we were supposed to meet at nine, it’s almost 11 now and we’ll be arriving tomorrow morning and we were supposed to meet with Alex this morning to go through the plans for the weekend, did you forget—?“ Alias pauses mid sentence, turning to look at you with a frown. 

For a second, you think he’s caught on to everything, but thankfully, it’s not that. 

“Why do I sound like my parents?” He shudders, looking at Jungkook too. “I must be getting old.”

Both Jungkook and you laugh, albeit awkwardly. This, however, doesn’t go unnoticed by Alias. His frown changes to something more curious as he looks between you. 

You expect him to say something about it but he doesn’t. 

“Well, Jungkook, he’s still waiting to speak with you, he’s already briefed the other guys.”

“Right,” Jungkook nods, now avoiding your gaze as he grabs his clothes. “I’ll just get ready, I won’t be long.”

“Cool,” Alias says, taking a seat in the armchair by the window. “I’ll wait for you then.”

As soon as Jungkook has disappeared into the bathroom, Alias turns to you. “Did you tell him?” he asks immediately.

Still slightly befuddled, you frown. “Huh?”

“Last night, you said you weren’t gonna say anything about how you feel but why are you both acting so different?”

“Oh.” All of last night comes back to you in an instant. Lawrence confessing, your conversation with Alias and everything else that happened with Jungkook after. “No, I didn’t,” you pause, brows knitting even further together before you look at Alias. “But I think he might know anyway.”

Alias’s brows shoot upwards. “What makes you think that?”

Because he was just feeling me up in bed and if you hadn’t walked in it seemed like it would have gone further. Well, you absolutely can’t say that. 

“I don’t know.” 

Frowning, Alias moves to sit at the end of the bed. “Are you okay?” He reaches forward and puts a hand on your knee.

“Yeah,” you nood, smiling as you take his hand to reassure him. You’re sure you must look like a bit of a mess, not only have you just gotten up but your mind and pulse is racing from what just happened with Jungkook – whatever it was. “Could you just give us a minute though?” 

“Sure,” Alias answers, getting up right away. “Just text me if you need anything,” he says. “I’ll be waiting on the deck for you guys.” He stops by the door, turning around. “But Alex is still waiting for Jungkook too.”

“We won’t be long,” you reassure him with a smile.

He nods once more before leaving the room. 

You’re left with only the noise of your thoughts and the shower running in the bathroom. You can feel your pulse racing as you push the covers back and get out of bed. It still feels so hot in here so you find the AC controller and blast the cool air to help calm yourself down as you try to process what just happened.

What did just happen? Were you and Jungkook really about to do something? Just thinking of it sends butterflies swirling down south but they’re quickly sent off track when you ask yourself what on earth it means?

You know why you were okay with it all happening… if you didn’t have feelings for him, you would never have let it happen, but you do, so you didn’t stop it. Is it the same for Jungkook? The idea of Jungkook liking you is far from foreign – Alex has always been trying to tell you but you just never believed it… this, however, has you in two minds. 

Or, there’s also the other more plausible reason. Jungkook woke up and realised his hard dick was enjoying the fact that there was another warm female body in such close vicinity to him so naturally, he made his move and you didn’t object so he went along with it. You’ve had your own small share of experiences with friends who you ended up doing more with without any feelings involved and so has Jungkook, maybe he just thought that’s what this was…  God, even just the thought of that hurts. 

The bathroom door clicks open and your head snaps up.

Jungkook walks out still scruffing his hair dry with a towel. He’s dressed casually for the day but he still looks as good as ever to you. He pauses after a few steps when he sees Alias has gone and slowly, he lowers the towel and looks at you. 

You feel small because you’re so unsure of where you stand with him right now. Pressing your palms with your fingers, you try to relax and think clearly but it’s hard when your heart is pounding in your chest and wants nothing more than for him to confess he has the same feelings as you do.

Still, as you look at Jungkook, it seems like he feels small too. His fingers are squeezing the towel as he switches it between his hands and he hesitates, starting to say something before he stops. 

You so badly want to say something, anything, but you have no idea what. How do you start? Can we talk about what just happened? Did you like it? Do you like me? Because I like you, a lot. Gosh, if only it was that damn easy. 

“Um,” Jungkook starts but looks away from you. “I’m sorry about what happened…” He loosely points to the bed.

Startled, you just stand there for a moment. He’s sorry?… “You’re sorry?” you repeat.

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“So, you weren’t thinking about what you were doing…?” you echo, starting to feel like a stupid parrot. He regrets it, of course he does.

Jungkook blinks, somewhat confused but you don’t blame him. You’re asking for clarification for selfish reasons – you need to know if he thinks what just happened was a mistake because it was far from a mistake for you. 

“No…” Jungkook hesitates, his face rounding as he looks at you. You’re sure he can tell you’re upset by what he’s saying. “Were you?” he asks.

“No.” It’s not a lie – you really weren’t thinking about what was happening, just that you enjoyed it. 

As soon as you say it, you’re sure you see Jungkook deflate. Did he want me to say yes? No, that doesn’t make sense, he said no first. 

“Right, yeah.” He clears his throat as he fiddles with the towel again. “I’m sorry it happened, I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He says it with such sincerity that your chest tightens.

“I didn’t feel uncomfortable.” The words come out before you can even stop them but you want him to know that, you’d hate for him to feel bad about something like this when it’s far from his fault that you let it happen just because you like him and wanted it to be something more.

Jungkook’s expression is the same as before, eyes rounding and there’s that barely-there pout to his lips as he asks, “You didn’t?” 

“No, I didn’t.” Shit, what are you saying, Y/N? You can hear the blood rushing through your ears and you start to feel sick. “But… it wasn’t supposed to happen?” You mean for it to come out as a question but you have no clue if it did.

“I, no,” Jungkook clears his throat again and he nods. “It was just a mistake then, it won’t happen again.” Now he looks away from you completely as he goes and puts the towel into the laundry basket.

Suddenly, you feel yourself on the verge of breaking. How can he be so composed right now when you feel like you simultaneously want to shout at him to tell him how much he means to you, and cry endlessly because–does he really not feel anything for you?

“Alias is waiting for you upstairs,” you say, walking past him to go into the bathroom. “I’ll meet you later.”

You leave no time for him to respond but just before you close the door, you catch a glimpse of his confused doe eyes and just like that, your heart sinks again.

“Could it really be?” your dad pretends to rub his eyes, blinking a few times as his face morphs into a grin. “Our daughter is here to grace us with her presence, I don’t believe it.”

Your mom laughs, gently patting your hand as you sit down between them. 

“Ha-ha, very funny dad,” you deadpan, throwing him a grumpy look.

“I’m only kidding, honey. I’m just glad you’ve decided to join us for lunch.”

“Of course,” you shrug. “I’ll even make your plates, what do you want?”

Your dad throws your mom a look. “Our princess is spoiling us today.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you head over to the buffet table to prepare two plates for your parents with everything you know they like. Just as you turn back to return to your table, you catch Jungkook watching you from across the balcony.

He’s on a table with Alex, Sophia and a few others. Meeting your gaze, he gives a small smile before looking away. Gosh you never knew a smile could hurt so much. 

Ignoring the pang in your chest, you return to your parents and slump into the seat.

“Where’s yours?” your dad asks, already reaching for a sandwich. 

“I’m not that hungry,” you mumble, taking a strawberry and biting into it. 

Not so slyly, your parents exchange glances. They choose to say nothing for the moment, making small talk as they enjoy their lunch. 

Once your dad is on his second cup of coffee, your mum takes your hand and squeezes gently. Looking up, you take comfort in the smile you see on her face. You know that both your parents are aware that there’s something on your mind – it’s why you’ve chosen to sit silently in their company while they have their own light hearted conversation. You also know that their advice is usually unparalleled to anyone else’s and right now, you could really do with some of their wise words.

“Is there anything you want to eat, honey?” your mom asks.

“The fruit is fine,” you answer quietly.

In response, your dad piles all the fruit into the plate in front of you while your mother gently continues probing.

“You’ve lost your appetite then… that usually happens for a reason, hm?”

You don’t say anything and she continues. 

“Would it have anything to do with Jungkook?”

The rounded eyes you give your mom must give it away immediately as she lets out a small sigh.

“How could you tell?” you ask. 

“He came down ten minutes before you,” your dad answers, “he normally always waits for you. Not to mention the funny look you gave each other just a little while ago.”

Sighing, you slump further into your seat. “We got into an argument last night,” you admit, feeling like a five year old again. 

It seems so stupid to say out loud, especially because you don’t think you can bring yourself to reveal the real reason the argument feels as bad as it does – the reason being your feelings for him – but you don��t really care about feeling like a kid when it’s your parents. They’re the only people you can be this vulnerable with and at times like this, you want their comfort and company the most. You would love to tell them the whole story but there’s no way you’re telling them what just happened this morning so you go with everything else.

“It wouldn’t be the first,” your mom says, still holding your hand as she takes it into her lap.

“No, but this felt different…”

Your mom hums, gently playing with the bracelet on your wrist. Neither she nor your dad say anything, waiting for you to continue on your own.

Closing your eyes, you let out part of the truth. “Lawrence told me he likes me.”

Your mom’s fingers pause briefly before she continues twisting the charms between her fingers. Looking up, you catch your parents exchanging glances, most definitely surprised but they’re subtle about it. 

“He told me last night and I made it clear it wouldn’t work… but I think it looked different to Jungkook and he just kept telling me I should give Lawrence a chance even though I told him I don’t want to.”

“That’s what you argued about?” your dad asks. 

“Mhm.” 

“Lawrence telling you that…” your dad pauses momentarily before continuing, “how did it make you feel?” 

“It was weird,” you admit. “I used to have a big crush on him.” 

“Oh, we know,” your mom says with a smile. 

Despite it being in the past, it still feels so embarrassing — you were such a wide eyed 16 year old with a fat school crush that even your parents noticed. 

“But I don’t now,” you mumble, cheeks warming as you keep your head lowered. “I told him that and I guess I felt kinda bad too. It’s been a while since we left school.”

Your father hums in agreement. “That’s a long time to like someone,” he says, head cocking as he looks at you knowingly. 

“I know.” 

Squeezing your hand, your mom takes over. “And what about Jungkook?”

“Well, when I told him, he was insisting I should give it a try.”

“That doesn’t seem like such a bad thing to suggest,” your dad shrugs. “I’d say the same thing, after all, you said it yourself that you liked him before and Lawrence is a good guy.”

“Yeah but I don’t now,” you reiterate. “I thought Jungkook would know that.”

“You’ve been single since you left college, Y/N, there’s absolutely no reason for him to think your heart is elsewhere…” he pauses, patting your leg, “unless you tell him.”

“Huh?” You look at your dad but he’s already looked away, a smirk on his face as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

“I, what would I…?” you sputter, looking at your mom and seeing the smile on her face, you fall quiet. 

So much for trying to keep this a secret — if your parents know then you wonder if anyone else knows. Although, of course no one else knows you as much as your parents and here they are telling you to tell Jungkook how you really feel but it’s still so nerve wracking to you. 

There’s so many times you can think of that would make you think he likes you as much as you like him, but then there‘s also that voice of reason in your head that tells you you’re reading into it too much. Jungkook doesn’t like you romantically as much as you wish he would. 

Chin lifting, you get up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, “but thanks for the chat,” you smile, giving a quick kiss on the cheek to both of them. 

“Darling, you’ll regret it if you don’t,” your dad says as you’re walking off. 

“No idea what you mean,” you call out with an airy wave of your hand. 

Walking across the length of the deck, you steal a glance in the direction of Jungkook only to see he’s no longer there. Looking around, you can’t see him anywhere. Resigned, you find an empty table that’s out of sight from everyone you know and slump into the chair to be alone with your thoughts. 

No one knows you better than your parents, not even Jungkook and if they’re telling you to tell him then you can’t argue that there’s a big part of you that agrees and even wants to tell him.  How would it feel to have Jungkook as yours? Sure, you have him more than anyone else right now — you share everything together, the good stuff, the bad stuff, and all the days in between… 

It’s something you’ll forever be grateful for because if you can’t have all of Jungkook then you’ll take the little things whenever you can. Still though, you know it’s not the same when all you are to him is a best friend; his response to what happened this morning completely confirmed that to you. In some ways, it hurts more than anything else knowing that as his best friend, you’ll be there when he eventually does find someone to call his own and fuck, even just the thought of that hurts like a bitch. 

Who knows if you’d even still be friends when that happens? It’s only natural that he and whoever he chooses would become closer than ever and you’ll just be that childhood friend considered to be like a sister…

“You’re moping.”

Turning around, you see Alex standing with his hands on his hips. 

“And you’re interrupting,” you grumble, slumping back into the seat.

“Nope, come on, I’m not having this,” he says, coming right behind you and holding your head to look up at him. “The wedding is in three days and you are not going to spend it like this.”

“I’ll be fine for the wedding, I promise.”

Narrowing his eyes, Alex lets go and sits down next to you. “What about tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night is Thalia’s hen night and Alex’s stag night. The cruise will arrive at Porto Cheli around dawn tomorrow and most guests will be escorted to various villas rented out by the Cirillo’s. Meanwhile, you and a few close others, including Jungkook, will be arriving at the Cirillo family home. A grand estate which given its enormous size, will accommodate the tradition of keeping the bride and groom parties separate until the wedding on Saturday afternoon.

Thalia has never been much of a party-goer so she’s choosing to keep things simple with a fine dining evening although you’re sure Sophia has planned for strippers and booze to appear at some point during the night. 

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat, plastering on a smile.

“I know you can fake it for everyone else but I actually want you to have a good time, Y/N,” he says, putting his arm around you.

Your smile turns into a genuine one. “I will, of course I will, it’s your wedding weekend and I’m so happy for you.”

Alex grins. “Thanks, I know you are.” He lets go and turns his chair to face you. “But I also know that you’re not talking to Jungkook right now, which means both of you will be moping until you make up.”

Of course he knows, you think. Well, he doesn’t know about this morning and you don’t know if you can bring yourself to tell him, it feels rather embarrassing for you. “Alias told you?”

“He told Sophia, she told Thalia and Thalia told me,” Alex shrugs.

It’s not like you expected it to stay a secret between your friends. Whenever Jungkook and you aren’t talking, it’s usually pretty obvious to everyone around you, especially your friends. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Alex offers.

“Not really.” Talking to your parents was enough and you already know what Alex is going to say. “You probably think I should just be completely honest about how I feel, right?”

Alex shrugs again. “Yeah, although he should’ve been upfront about it first.”

Surprised, you look up at him and he continues.

“I know I've been telling you for ages that he’s whipped for you, but this kind of proves it, don’t you think?” Alex glances at you, eyes creasing in the corners as he hides a smug smirk. “There’s only one reason he reacted to Lawrence the way he did.”

It makes sense, but it also doesn’t – Jungkook purely could’ve been pushing you to be with Lawrence as a friend who just wants to see you happy. You’d hate to think it’s for the former reason, only to realise you’ve terribly misinterpreted the situation and end up stupidly admitting your feelings to Jungkook when he cares for you only as a friend. “It doesn’t really,” you say, trying harder to convince yourself than Alex. “I mean, he probably just didn’t want me to waste the opportunity.”

“Ha!” Alex scoffs. “Waste the opportunity.” He gives you a look. “Come on, Y/N, why are you fighting every reason that you have to try?”

“It’s not a reason,” you counter. “We’ve gotten into one argument and I don’t think me saying I have feelings for him will change anything–”

“So you do.”

“What?” 

You look back at Alex and see his eyes wide and he’s not even hiding his smile anymore. 

“You do like him,” he repeats.

“I, what…?” Suddenly, you realise you just said it out loud. Opening your mouth, you’re about to try to cover it up somehow but it’s too late.

“I knew it,” Alex laughs, seeming way too ecstatic considering how shit you feel. “This is gold, Y/N, this is it, I’ve always known Jungkook liked you but you liking him too, it’s perfect!”

“Shh,” you hush him suddenly, grabbing his hands as you look around in a panic. “Alex shut up, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“The whole world should know, Y/N,” he laughs happily again. Looking at you, he cups your face in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long, you need to tell him, Y/N, please!”

The thought of telling Jungkook is terrifying to you, even more so now that Alex is saying it out loud and someone could possibly hear. 

With your expression split between worry and confusion, Alex’s smile fades a little but not completely. “Y/N, this is good, what’s wrong?”

For the first time, you let yourself say the truth out loud. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Alex sighs, his smile softening. “There’s only one way you’ll find out.

Now it’s you who scoffs, pulling away from him. “Yeah, right.”

“I am right,” he insists.

Sighing, you look at him. It’s so hard to hear Alex tell you that Jungkook likes you when youc an only think otherwise after this morning… “Something happened,” you start, watching Alex carefully.

For a second he still smiles but when he sees the worry lining your face, his expression mirrors yours as his smile fades. “Okay… you wanna talk about it?”

You quickly glance around to make sure no one can hear. “You promise you won’t tell anyone,” you say, “not even Alias or Sophia or Tha–” you cut yourself off. Asking Alex not to tell his soon to be wife is like asking him to cut off his hand, you already know that since he couldn’t even keep Sophia’s birthday present to her secret. “Fine, only Thalia.”

“Appreciate it,” Alex nods.

“Mhm, well…” You tell him briefly what happened this morning, sparing him the details but telling him every word of what was spoken after and he listens carefully, not interrupting you once. 

You chose to tell Alex because he’s the one who has always been so sure of Jungkook’s feelings for you, not Alias, nor Sophia, or even Thalia. Sure, the others have hinted at it but only Alex has ever paid attention to everything between Jungkook and you so if anyone knows the whole story and can give you the best advice, it’s him. So, it feels a little alarming to you when once you’re done, he still doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, he purses his lips, grimacing before he finally speaks. “Honestly, that’s a bit confusing. If there ever was a way to confess, this was the perfect window to do it.”

For what feels like the umpteenth time today, your heart sinks. “That’s what I thought.”

“But,” Alex says very surely, taking your hand, “it doesn’t change every single other thing he’s ever done to show he likes you, and let’s be real, he’s probably just worried that you won’t feel the same.”

It’s what you want to hear but it’s still so hard to accept it because what if it’s not true and you make a fool of yourself in front of Jungkook.

“I wish that were true,” you mumble. “But I don’t think I can keep holding onto hope when it hurts like this.”

Alex squeezes your hand. “Y/N, we know Jungkook, he doesn’t exactly play with anyone’s feelings and I absolutely don’t think he would start something physical with you unless he was feeling it emotionally too.”

“I know, but what if it’s just because he was horny.” You’re still mumbling, cheeks going warm as you say it. 

“Look, I think there’s a lot of guys who would sleep with their best friends if they had the chance,” Alex says, “but Jungkook isn’t one of them, he never has been.”

Thinking about it, you realise he’s right. Jungkook wouldn’t. There’s been way more chances in the past for him to have done things with you and you’re pretty sure there’s even been times where you drunkenly made a few moves on him but he never did anything himself.

“Still, I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Alex says encouragingly, “how long have I been telling you he likes you? I haven’t been saying it for no reason.”

“But you have no concrete proof either.”

“Just take a chance, be brave and then you’ll see I was right,” Alex says, raising a brow.

Glancing at him, you chuckle. “This is coming from the guy who had to get drunk to say I love you to the love of his life for the first time.”

Alex smiles and leans back in his seat as he gestures around him. “It worked didn’t it? Look at me now.”

Well, he got you there. Plus, you can’t deny the big part of you that believes it. Jungkook and your friendship does feel more than friends sometimes and you know it’s not all in your head. This morning seemed to confirm that too.

Narrowing your eyes at Alex, you turn away to face the horizon. “Don’t say anything to anyone, but I’ll think about it.”

“Yes,” Alex laughs, hugging you. “I’ll keep my mouth shut,” he says, sounding so excited. “You won’t regret this.”

Laughing, you pull him into your side. “You could start now, half the deck can hear you.”

“Sorry,” he grins, squeezing you. 

Maybe he’s right, maybe you won’t regret it. 

Jungkook comes to a stop at the end of the balcony to watch the sun set behind the sea. It’s been a long day with Alex asking his groomsmen to assist him in all things wedding related and then Alias needed help sorting out the entertainment for tomorrow.

Jungkook hasn’t seen you since lunch. He went back to the cabin while you had lunch with your parents since he didn’t want to make it awkward for you when you eventually came up to finish packing and since then he hasn’t seen you as you’ve been with the girls all day. 

Truthfully, after this morning, he doesn’t think he can bear to see you just yet. He feels like a coward. Not only has he probably ruined his friendship with you, but he also can’t help but feel like he’s hurt you. You looked so timid as you stood across the cabin from him and a part of him felt like you wanted him to say something other than what he said. If only he was 100% sure it’s what you wanted, Jungkoook would shout it for the whole world to hear, but what if it’s not and he really does ruin everything between you. Besides, you called it a mistake. That’s all Jungkook can remind himself of as it takes everything in him not to tell you he wishes that there was something more between you.

“Why the long face, Kookie?”

The voice comes from behind him but Jungkook doesn’t have to be looking to know who it is. 

Valentina appears beside him and leans on the balcony too. She doesn’t even look at him but just watches the horizon ahead as Jungkook was. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”

Jungkook frowns. Of course that’s the first thing she would think of. “Not really,” he mutters. 

As much as he wishes it was paradise between you and him, it wasn’t, none of it was real

and what he finds worse is that he couldn’t even keep up a fake relationship with you – he completely blew it.

“So what then? They didn’t have your favourite bagel for breakfast this morning?” She laughs lightly. 

However, Jungkook internally scowls. It’s annoying that she actually knows him rather well despite the finer details of their ‘relationship’. “No offence, Val, but I really just wanna be alone right now.” 

There’s harsher things he could’ve said, particularly naming her as the least desirable companion right now, but even without that, Valentina seems to get the message from his tone alone. 

The humour in her expression disappears leaving only a small poignant smile. 

Not expecting such a quick retreat from her, Jungkook immediately regrets his harsh tone but at the same time, he really is not in the mood for Valentina and her usual antics today. 

She doesn’t move an inch though. With a small sigh she turns and faces the horizon just as Jungkook was. 

Jungkook does the same; although he’d rather be left alone, he’s definitely not about to make it known again, especially since he now feels a bit bad.

“It’s always been her, hasn’t it?”

For a moment, Jungkook is completely thrown. Multiple thoughts run through his head – What? Valentina knows? How long has she known? Was it from when he was with her? Was he really always in love with you even while he was seeing other people? That must make him a complete dick, right? Has he always made it so painfully obvious that he’s in love with you?

His hesitation seems to give Valentina the answer she was looking for.

She glances at him and smiles before looking away again. “I’m not surprised really, I knew it from when I first met you, I guess it’s my fault for putting us both through everything we went through, it was damned from the start.”

“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook says, the guilt festering.

Valentina just shrugs. “It’s over now, no reason to care.” She says it meaninglessly but Jungkook can only hope she means it.

“So why the long face then?” she repeats, looking at him. “She’s yours, go be with her.”

“It’s not that simple.” 

Valentina laughs, bumping her shoulder into him. “Yeah, you’re right. Pretending to date someone you’re secretly in love with is never simple.”

For the second time, Jungkook looks at her stunned. “How did you…?”

She shrugs, still sporting an amused smile. “I know you think I’m stupid, Jungkook, just a head in the clouds rich bitch like everyone else does, but I’ve gotten this far, haven’t I?”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook corrects her immediately. Sure, Valentina has her unbearable moments and more often than not, she plays dumb and innocent, but Jungkook knows that she’s more than that. “I wouldn’t have dated you if I thought that.”

“Don’t worry, Kookie, you don’t have to try to make me feel better, I really couldn’t care less about it. Now, back to the main issue here, you need to grow a pair and tell Y/N how you feel about her,” she says bluntly.

She’s not wrong, Jungkook thinks. “It’s just not that simple,” he sighs, turning away from her. It feels odd to be having this conversation with Valentina and despite her honesty just now, he doesn’t really feel like opening up to her.

“What’s complicated about it? You like her and she likes you.”

“We don’t know that.”

“You honestly think she doesn’t like you?” she asks, sounding surprised.

Hesitating, Jungkook eventually shrugs. “Sometimes I think so…” It’s true, sometimes Jungkook really feels so sure that you feel the same way, but then something always happens that changes things. He thinks of Lawrence – you liked him for so long and although Jungkook doesn’t know the extent of it, you always had this schoolgirl crush on him, even whilst you were with Alex. “But I don’t think she does.”

Valentina looks at Jungkook like he’s stupid and he’s vaguely reminded of why they never worked out. “Well, you can keep thinking that but it’s kind of obvious she does.”

Saying nothing, Jungkook looks out at the horizon again, leaning his forearms into the balcony. The sun is almost fully set marking the last day of the cruise. They’ll soon be arriving at Porto Cheli and it’ll be even harder to spend time with you once the bride and groom parties are separated. He wants to talk to you and to make things okay between you again, but he knows that he’s upset you and although it’s confusing him, he wants to give you space. 

Valentina sighs, nudging him. “Just talk to her, you don’t want to regret it later on,” she says, straightening up as her usual flamboyance returns. “You know if it doesn’t work out, I’ll always be here for you Kookie pie,” she almost coos, making Jungkook laugh and cringe at the same time. As ditzy as she may act sometimes, Valentina is more smart than Jungkook ever gave her credit for.

She grins, winking at him before she waltzes off like the conversation never happened.

The cabin is dark when you finally return to your room. It’s well past midnight and you expect Jungkook to be here but as your eyes quickly adjust, you can see the room is empty. As you walk in further, you see his suitcase standing packed and ready in the corner of the room. 

Deflating, you trudge over to your own open suitcase on one side of the room. You’re only half packed and you’d hoped Jungkook would still have his to do too so you’d have a chance to maybe talk to him, but it seems he’s already done it while you were busy with the girls. You wonder if he avoided you on purpose.

Pushing this thought quickly out of your head, you press shuffle on your ‘summer ‘23’ playlist in an attempt to cheer yourself up while you finish packing. It doesn’t really work but you at least keep your mind free from running rampant, instead singing along to some of your favourite tunes with no regards for your cabin neighbours, one of whom is Valentina and you’re more than certain she’s not in her cabin because you last saw her walking out of the premium lounge with a tall, handsome stranger whose face you couldn’t see and they went into an elevator going to the cabins on the other side of the ship, barely waiting to let the door close before locking lips.

Must be nice, you think sourly before shaking your head. Not cute, Y/N, you scold yourself. Although you don’t blame yourself for having negative thoughts since you are on the short end of an unrequited love story with your best friend, you’d still rather not be bitter.

Almost three hours later, you’ve packed everything, showered and are already dressed ready for the arrival at Porto Cheli soon. You’ve chosen a simple outfit, a sky blue linen co-ord with jewellery to match. Slipping into the comfiest sandals you own, you move your suitcase next to the door and grab your phone before heading out of the room. It’s almost 5am so there’s around an hour left until the ship docks at the port, marking the end of the cruise and the start of the busy wedding weekend. Most of you took a nap during the day, so deciding you wouldn’t sleep tonight, they all agreed to meet one last time on the cruise.

Despite everything that’s happened with Jungkook and the dampener it’s put on your mood, you’re still excited to celebrate Alex’s wedding. Not only is he dear to you, but you’re celebrating his marriage with so many of the people you love the most, making this whole trip special. It would be perfect if you could end it by fixing what’s happened with Jungkook but you feel like you’ve already made yourself so vulnerable to him and nothing came out of it.

It’s quiet and dark in the hallways as you make your way out to the pool on the top deck. It reminds you of the nights you were sneaking out with Jungkook to meet the other guys for whatever stupid stuff you were getting up to. It makes you miss him now and you subconsciously walk a little faster in anticipation of seeing him now as you all gather for the last time.

You can hear your friends before you see them and you smile at the sound of Alias’ laughter as you climb the steps to the deck. You’re certain any patrolling staff would have heard and they’re either being nice enough to let you all off, or Alias tipped them enough to keep quiet. 

There’s a bunch of familiar faces hanging around all together, all friends of either Alex, Thalia, Sophia or Alias. You smile at a few as you make your way over to Sophia, Thalia and a few others. 

The girls greet you warmly as you approach and Sophia hands you a drink as soon as you arrive. You take it and immediately take a sip. You weren’t planning on having anything to drink but one won’t hurt. There’s an excited buzz in the air, the same you felt on the first day of cruise but this feels special. The sun is rising on the horizon and you’re here with almost all of your best friends. Almost all of your best friends. Jungkook still isn’t here but you try not to focus on it and just have a good time with your friends. 

It works, so much so that you’re mid laughter when a familiar face joins the deck and makes their way over to you, but you don’t quite realise until he pats your shoulder as the conversation progresses. 

Turning around, your smile falters but doesn’t disappear. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey.” Lawrence looks nervous, an emotion you’re not used to seeing on him.

You also weren’t actually expecting to see him but you’re glad he’s here. Throughout everything, he’s still a friend and you’d hate to lose that relationship with him.

“How are you?” You ask, smile widening. You haven’t seen him since that night and you’d hate to think he’s been avoiding you when it’s the last thing you’d want.

“Good, thanks,” he nods. He seems to suddenly relax at your warm response. He glances at the group behind you and you turn too. No one is paying either of you any attention but Lawrence still asks for privacy. “Do you think we could talk?” he asks tentatively. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Of course,” you nod, following him as he turns right away and walks to the furthest side of the deck where it’s quietest. 

You stop when he does, taking a seat on the bench beside him. It’s easy to see he’s nervous as he glances around quickly before looking down at the drink in his hand. You want to say something to make him feel better but you don’t want to interrupt whatever it is he wants to say.

“How have you, uh, how have you been?” He looks up, holding eye contact for barely a second before looking away again.

“Good,” you answer. It’s not the truth but he doesn’t need to know that.

He nods and takes a sip of his drink. You do the same and you’ve just swallowed when he speaks again.

“I‘m sorry for pulling you away from your friends, I just wanted to talk to you tonight before all the wedding stuff starts and I didn’t know if I’d get a chance.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You lean in a little so he looks at you and smile. “You’re my friend too though,” you say, feeling the need to remind him.

His smile mirrors yours and he nods. “I kinda messed it up though…”

You know this is of course what he wanted to talk to you about and although you don’t think it needs to change anything between you, you know yourself how easily feelings can change a friendship. Not only that, but he deserves an explanation from you too since you did have feelings for him for a good chunk of your teen years and later, plus your conversation ended before it was supposed to that night when Alias and Jungkook appeared.

“Not really,” you shrug. “I think it’s just how we deal with it now, no?” 

“Yeah, if you’re okay with that,” he agrees. “I’d like to.”

“Of course I am. And I’m sorry too by the way.” 

Lawrence looks confused and you don’t wait for him to say anything before continuing.

“I think it must have been confusing for you to be on the receiving end of my feelings for you while we were in college and maybe I even subconsciously made it seem like it after too.”

“Ah,” Lawrence purses his lips. “Well I didn’t really know.”

“I know, you said that before but I still feel like I need to say it. There may have been a few times I was coming off as more than friendly and that was wrong of me.”

Lawrence’s silence serves as an answer.

“So yeah, I’m sorry too. I hope we can go back to how things were,” you say hesitantly.

“It might be hard,” Lawrence responds honestly. 

“I know…” your voice feels small. You know all too well how feelings can change a friendship. “But we’ll try?” You look at him and smile hopefully.

He nods. “Of course.” 

You’re content with that. Of course you don’t know the extent of his feelings for you so you hope it won’t be hard for him to move on – after all, the two of you mostly ever met up at family functions and dinners of the same sort. It’s rare for Lawrence to have joined any of the outings with your friends. It was never his fault since his parents have always pushed for him to do more for their company, especially since he was an only child. It’s something that’s always made you more grateful for your own parents and their completely laid back and caring approach to your career, even all throughout school. The only thing they ever pushed for was your grades but they kept up that same effort in all areas of your life, even your extracurriculars. Sure, sometimes when you were growing up you felt the pressure but you always felt supported by them no matter what the final result was.

Lawrence has experienced the opposite of you to say it simply, and you’re sure that given time, he’ll find the right person for him as he prioritises himself.

“Thanks for talking to me though,” you say, “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Lawrence says, taking another sip. “At least now I don’t have to avoid you all weekend long.”

You laugh, agreeing with him and soon enough, the conversation continues although it doesn’t last longer than ten minutes with Lawrence excusing himself.

You stay seated at the bench as he leaves. You didn’t realise you were concerned about your relationship with Lawrence but the relief and content you’re feeling now tells you as much. You’re glad you’ve cleared everything up with him, now if only you could get yourself to do the same with Jungkook.

Glancing around, you realise that he still hasn’t appeared. He definitely would have known about it so you wonder why he hasn’t turned up. Finishing your drink, you get up and head over to where Alias is sitting with his friends Kelce and Dillon.

“Hey, Y/N,” they all say in unison when you come and sit beside them at the pool. They’re definitely a little tipsy and you don’t need to see the cans beside them to know that. Their goofy smiles say it all.

“Hey guys,” you chuckle, patting Kelce’s shoulder. “Um, have you guys seen Jungkook anywhere?” 

Alias immediately frowns but it’s Dillon who answers. “We were with him a while ago at the lounge.” He looks at the other guys. “When was that? A couple of hours ago?”

Kelce looks at his phone. “Yeah, it was around one.”

You went past the lounge at the same time, that’s when you saw Valentina leaving with that guy… for a split second, your mind goes there – could it have been him? – No. Absolutely no. The idea is absurd. You feel stupid for even thinking that.

“You haven’t seen him since then, Y/N?” Alias asks.

“No.” You ignore the seed of concern that settles in your stomach. You’re certain he’s not with Valentina, but where is he? 

“We were gonna leave the lounge together but he stayed for another drink,” Alias tells you, seeming to share the same concern as you. “He seemed like he wanted to be alone so we left him.”

“Oh.” It’s not like Jungkook to drink alone – if he does, he’s usually upset about something. “Well, thanks for telling me,” you mutter, getting up and leaving the group.

Alias, however, gets up with you. “Hey,” he says, taking your arm. “You want me to find him?” He looks you over and you’re sure the concern in his expression isn’t solely for Jungkook.

“Um…” you hesitate. You don’t want to seem like a clingy best friend, especially not after what happened between you, but if Jungkook is drinking alone then he’s not feeling okay and you would normally be there for him. This time you feel like you can’t be, but Alias can. However, you don’t want to ask Alias to spend his night away from his friends and family.

Looking at him, you smile. “No, it’s okay. I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”

Alias doesn’t seem convinced. “But then he would be here.”

He’s right. “Or maybe he was tired and went back to the cabin?”

“You just said you haven’t seen him since we did.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you shake your head. “I haven’t.”

Sighing, Alias pulls out his phone. “I’ll try calling him but if he doesn’t get back to me in ten minutes we’ll go look for him.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Let me know if he replies,” you say, thanking him too before going back to some of the girls. 

You’re not listening much to their conversation although you try to get involved to take your mind off of Jungkook. 

It isn’t until you receive a text from Alias with a screenshot that your nerves are put to rest. 

[3:01] Me: hey man where r u?

[3:13] JK: hey sorry bro, I knocked out on the balcony.

[3:13] Me: oh okay, it’s all good just wanted to know where u were. Join us now? We’re at the top pool deck. 

[3.15] JK: I’m just gonna check all my luggage is packed first. Will join later.

[3:15] Me: cool see u. 

So he’s fine, he just fell asleep. You still want to see him but you know that’s not going to happen unless you go down to the cabin room and you don’t want to seem clingy so you don’t. Instead, you turn your attention back to the conversation the girls are having and feel the excitement for the weekend to come.

Jungkook doesn’t get drunk often and he had no plans of doing so the last night of the cruise either, and he most definitely did not expect to get drunk with your father of all people…

“You coming Jungkook?”

Looking up from his drink, Jungkook shook his head. “Nah, I’m just gonna hang here for a bit,” he said with a smile so as not to raise suspicions from the already watchful eye of Alias. 

Still, Alias frowned. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, I still got a headache.”

“Alright, well text me if you need anything,” Alias said as he, Kelce and Dillon got up. 

“Get well soon,” Kelce said as they took their leave.

“Join us later, yeah?” Dillon added.  

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

He watched as they walked out, trying to find the same excitement in him for the wedding as they’re feeling but his head was full of other thoughts. 

Sighing, he looked down at this drink again. It’s true that he had a headache. He even chose not to have anything alcoholic, opting for a mocktail from the extensive drinks menu available at the lounge. He’s not sure where it came from but he thought it’s most likely just because he couldn’t stop his brain from thinking and the lack of sleep didn’t help either. 

Truthfully, he knew he was just moping. He knew what he had to do and he knew it before his conversation with Valentina. Although, the fact that she said it too just made Jungkook more aware of the truth. 

The line between friendship and something more had always been blurry for Jungkook and the past few days only made him more sure of it — he’s in love with you and he always has been for as long as he can remember. 

Every time the thought crossed Jungkook’s mind, it triggered the questions that come with it. How do I tell her? Does she feel the same way? She’ll hate me. What if she hates me? I shouldn’t do that to her? What’s worse, is that now  it had come to the point that being with you was almost painful – not knowing if he could have more with you when all he had to do was confront his feelings, swallow his pride and be honest with you. Even if you didn’t feel the same, it was the point at which he realised he would rather you hate him for admitting his feelings and ruining your friendship, than stay quiet and never know if he can have what he’s always wanted with you.

That said, it still felt so hard to do – he had a lot to lose.

Head lowered, Jungkook tried to figure out the best way to do this when he heard a familiar laugh somewhere behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Valentina walking with a tall, handsome man beside her. Jungkook had seen him around a few times but he wasn’t sure if he was a part of the wedding party. Whoever he was, he sure knew how to make Valentina laugh; she was laughing as he put his arm around her and she raised her hand to hold his fingers loosely when she looked towards the bar. Making eye contact with Jungkook, she stopped and tilted her head.

Jungkook just smiled awkwardly and turned back around. He didn’t want to seem like he was staring even though that was what he was doing but for no bad reason – he liked to see Valentina happy. Despite her shortcomings, deep down she always had good intentions for the most part and making her happy was something Jungkook couldn’t do. However, he would’ve been lying if he said seeing her like that didn’t hurt – not because he was jealous of her, but because everyone around him seemed to be having such good luck in their love lives (whether there’s feelings attached or not) and here he was, unable to find the words to tell his best friend he loves her. It sucked.

“And what are you doing here, may I ask?”

Hearing Valentina’s voice so close to him all of a sudden startled Jungkook. He looked up, eyes wide. She stood with one hand on the bar and the other on her hip. 

“Uh, just getting a drink.”

Valentina rolled her eyes. “I spoke to you less than 12 hours ago, Jungkook, do you not remember anything?”

“I do,” he replied, glancing across at her date who seemed super unbothered as he waited for her a short distance away.

“Then why are you here?”

“I just needed to think some things over.”

“Like what?”

“Just things,” Jungkook said, feeling somewhat intimidated by how serious she was right now.

“You know you’re just wasting time,” she said matter-of-factly.

“She’s with everyone else right now, I don’t want to ruin her evening,” Jungkook says defensively.

“I really don’t think anything you say or do could ruin her evening.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Well, yeah but you’re not doing anything about it so how is that any better?”

She wasn’t wrong but Jungkook was convinced he needed to give you time. “I’m just not ready yet,” he sighed.

Valentina sighed too. “Fine,” she shrugged and turned back towards her date. “But you don’t need to think, Jungkook, you just need to do what needs to be done,” she added with a wave of her hand.

He knew she was right but why did it feel so hard?! 

Getting the attention of the bartender, he ordered a much needed drink, downing it all almost as soon as it came before ordering a second. At least he wasn’t a light weight. He knew this wouldn’t help his headache but it wasn’t like he was helping himself at all by sitting here and thinking endlessly. Endless thoughts of what could go right and wrong trailed through his mind, leaving him conflicted as he accepted that he wouldn’t disturb your night with this.

Halfway through his drink, someone came and took a seat at the stool beside him despite there  being space elsewhere. Looking across, he was more than surprised to see the last person he would’ve expected to see here.

Lawrence only acknowledged Jungkook with a nod before ordering his own drink. 

A multitude of emotions went through Jungkook at this particular moment starting with wanting to punch Lawrence in his perfect face, to feeling sorry for himself for being forced into this situation, then feeling sorry for Lawrence because he knew that he got the short end of the stick – at least Jungkook still has a strong friendship with you —  and oddly, gratefulness because Jungkook knows what he needs to do now and without Lawrence, he wouldn’t have been forced into it and who knows how long he would’ve gone without telling you the truth (though he had yet to do it). 

Saying nothing himself, Jungkook took another sip of his drink.

Lawrence, however, started a conversation. “You not joining the others?”

“Nah,” Jungkook answered quietly. He gave no reason but he didn’t need to. 

Lawrence nodded in understanding but said nothing else. His drink arrived and he stayed seated, sipping quietly beside Jungkook. 

Jungkook really didn’t care for conversation. He came to the bar for some peace and quiet so initiating a conversation is the last thing he wanted to do.

With all that said, Jungkook’s curiosity got the better of him. 

“What about you?” He asked without even turning his head. “You’re not gonna head up there?” 

Lawrence shook his head. “I’ll head up a bit later”

Jungkook nodded, wondering if Lawrence would see you while he was there. He could ask him but that would open the doors to another conversation which he didn’t really want to have.  

Lawrence didn’t owe him any apology since you’re not really his girlfriend. He did seem to cross a line considering he didn’t know that at the time, but there was no reason for him to say it now. 

Just when Jungkook took another sip of his drink, Lawrence put his glass down and looked toward Jungkook, sincerely. 

“Hey, man, I’m really sorry for what I did.”

Although he harboured some slight resentment towards Lawrence for what happened, it immediately seemed to melt away in that moment. Their friendship extended well beyond the past few days and Jungkook has never been the type to hold a grudge, especially not when the other person is genuine. 

“It’s cool,” he responded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did.”

Jungkook only had to glance at Lawrence to see he looked guilty and felt bad about it. “I was selfish and I wanted to tell Y/N how I felt. I guess there was a part of me that wished she wasn’t with you and that was completely fucked up.” 

“She’s not with me though.” 

It came out slightly harsher than intended, carrying the weight of Jungkook’s own feelings. Lawrence went quiet and Jungkook continued, resigned.

“Honestly I’d say you’ve got a pretty good shot with her, I’d go for it if I were you.”

“Why don’t you?” Lawnrence asked simply, without any curiosity or even peaked interest. His voice held more of a genuine want to help. 

“What?”

“Why don’t you just go for it?”

Jungkook shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“No offence Lawrence, but how would you know?”… Now that did come out slightly harsher than intended. “The last time you even saw us was probably at Sophia’s graduation and even then you were gonna way before the night ended.”

Completely understanding, Lawrence backed up. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jungkook cooled off. “I’m sorry too.  That came out wrong.”

“It’s alright.” Lawrence sat back in his chair, swirled his drink before taking three long sips to empty the glass. 

“It doesn’t change anything though,” he said, getting up from his stool. “There’s a point at which you can pass friendship and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with treading beyond that line.” He put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just do it carefully.”

Jungkook stared at Lawrence but Lawrence didn’t linger. 

“Anyway, like I said, I’m sorry for everything.”

Jungkook watched as he walked away, the words swimming in his befuddled mind.

Lawrence was right. There was a line and Jungkook knew he was straddling that fine line and perhaps now it was too late to step back. Instead, he should be brave and put everything out on that line. It was easy enough to think with liquid courage flowing through him, that and the fact that you weren’t here right now. But maybe he should have taken advantage of the fact that he was feeling more confident now, he should find you, he found himself thinking. He should tell you he’s in love with you and then whatever happens next will happen. He can’t control that and right now there’s already a strain on the relationship that can only be fixed by the truth. 

He should do it, he thought. The thought built up more and more, ushering Jungkook as he pushed himself off the bar stool—

“Where you going, son? I just got here.”

A firm band on Jungkook’s shoulder pushed him back down, contrasting the loving tone with which he was spoken to. 

Your dad took the seat which was previously occupied by Lawrence and Jungkook could only stare for a moment as he called the bartender and ordered two drinks. If it was anyone else, Jungkook would’ve apologised and excused himself to carry out his plan of finding you, but with your dad it was simply not the case. 

“You like a gin and tonic right?” He asked, after ordering. 

Jungkook wasn’t particularly fond of it but he nodded. “Yeah, thanks. “

“How come you’re not with the others?”

Jungkook shrugged, hoping that your dad wouldn’t be able to tell he’d already had a couple to drink. “I just wasn’t feeling it.”

“And Y/N?”

Despite being the only thing on his mind for a while, the mention of you still threw him. “Huh?”

“Is she with the others?” Your dad asked coolly, reaching for some peanuts from the bowl in front of them.

“Yeah, I think so,” Jungkook answered as nonchalantly as he could. 

The bartender arrived with their drinks and your dad took his and sipped slowly in silence. 

Jungkoon was not uncomfortable around your dad, not in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to have grown rather close to him over the years and appreciated the almost father-son bond they shared. Having spent much time with your family, there wasn’t much he had yet to experience when it came to your dad, but this was something different. He’d never been sat at a bar, just the two of them making small talk over drinks. 

Jungkook knew your dad well enough to know that that wasn’t the purpose of this. Your dad is just breaking the ice to another conversation… but what? Surely it had to be about you and that was the only reason Jungkook found his palms unusually sweaty.

After what must’ve been at least twenty more minutes of small talk about the weather and football, Jungkook had emptied his second glass. 

Your dad laughed. “I forgot you can take your liquor, huh?” 

Before Jungkook could even respond, another drink had been ordered for him and Jungkook willed himself to drink this one slower, wary that he was already more than a few drinks in now though he was grateful that your dad was good at keeping up 

“So, what’s the real reason you’re not with the others?” Your dad asked, his own drink replaced with another as well. 

Jungkook shrugged and answered honestly. “Just not in the mood to socialise. I think I’d be a bit of a Debby downer so I’d rather sit this one out.”

“That’s selfless of you.”

“Not really, kind of selfish actually.”

Your dad nodded. “A bit of both then.”

Much to Jungkook’s surprise, your dad emptied his glass faster than Jungkook had and didn’t hesitate to order another. 

“Anything else for you?” he asked Jungkook. 

“Uh, sure.” Jungkook wasn’t sure why he said yes but he did, ordering a whiskey instead.

Your dad pulled his phone out and sighed, muttering an apology about a work issue and Jungkook nodded, not minding in the slightest. But the issue must have been resolved quickly because he put the phone away only moments later. 

“It almost feels wrong to be drinking with you,” your dad said. 

“Why?” Jungkook asked, taking the smallest sip from his glass. “Because I’m younger than you?”

“Partly. I’ve known you since you were so young, it’s hard to believe how much you’ve grown up.” Your dad smiled. “Y/N too.”

Jungkook smiled. “It has been a long time.” He thought back to the first day he first met your dad and you. He was a shy kid, hiding behind his mom and at the time, you were pretty shy at the time too. It was your mom who encouraged you to ask Jungkook if he wanted to read a book with you. He looked at his own mom for reassurance before shyly agreeing and following you to the reading corner in your playroom.  By the end of the night your affinity for him had grown and that was the simple start to your long friendship with more ups and downs than Jungkook could count.

“But at the same time it feels like nothing.”

Your dad raised his glass. “Exactly,” he said, with an agreeing nod of his head. “A lifetime and nothing, both at once. I sometimes wish I could go back.”

“To when we were young?”

“Further back if I could,” he smiled. “Maybe a few years before Y/N was born. Just before I got married.”

“Why then? Jungkook asked, curious. He’d known your dad for so many years and they’d had plenty of conversations about serious stuff and more light hearted stuff, but this was different. He’d not spoken much about his relationship witn your mother, especially not when partially intoxicated. And while Jungkook had seen plenty of the love they shared, he’d not heard much about it except from you.

“When I first met Y/N’s mother—gosh,” he sighed contentedly as though reliving the moment. “She was like no one else I’d ever met. She still is,” he added with a gentle chuckle. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend my days with. I’d give everything I have to be with her. Every minute of every hour, always.”

The smile on your dads face grew, as did Jungkook’s. 

“We were young when we got married, you know?”

Jungkook nodded. “I know. 24 right?”

He nodded, the corners of his lips turning up further into a proud smile. “I didn’t want to waste another day without the promise of having her by my side. My friends said I was mad, too young.”

Jungkook shakes his head, knowing how it felt to not want to be apart from someone he loved so dearly. “I don’t think you were mad at all. You were in love.” 

Your dad turned, now masking the smile that was on his face as he looked at Jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eye that Jungkook hadn’t seen before. “You know it when you feel it. There’s no mistaking it.”

Jungkook knew that now. He felt it more than ever with you now. But more pressingly, Jungkook realised – your dad knew. 

If it weren’t for the drinks he’d had, Jungkook might have felt embarrassed.

In quiet admittance, Jungkook sighed. “I know.”

Your dad smiled. “You shouldn’t let this time get away from you, Jungkook. You’re young with a life to live. Do it with love and without regrets. 

Jungkook nodded, feeling a tumultuous swirl of emotions inside. “I will,” he said, feeling more certain now than he had before, but he knew his head wasn’t in the right place to do this. First he ought to sober up… 

There was a gentle pat on his back from your dad. “Good.” He flagged the bartender down for what felt like too many times to Jungkook. “But first another drink with me.”

“Sure.” Jungkook felt his words slur slightly. Then the cogs in his brain which were turning a little slower raised a question in his mind. his eyes narrowed and he turned to your dad. “Wait, is this a test?”

Your dad laughed. “I’ve always liked you Jungkook.”

“Me too.” Jungkook smiled though he still looked wary. 

“Good.” Your dad returned the smile with even more fondness. “And no, it’s not a test. Let’s drink.”

So Jungkook stayed.

note. how are you finding it? :) let me know xoxoxo link for part 3 here

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